#it’s been in for a half hour now and I wanna do at least another 20 min with the dye in just to make sure it all sticks and looks as good as
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Guess who's sick! 😬
#it is I 🤒#came out of nowhere yesterday#was a bit tired throughout the day but not more than normal#and then in the evening I could suddenly feel myself getting worse by the minute#throat hurts which makes swallowing and yawning super fun 😣#skin randomly gets super sensitive bordering on painful#thought I might get a good amount of sleep last night but instead lay away until somewhere past 7 am#had four blankets but was still cold af#body temperature rose to a light fever of over 38°C somewhere in the middle of the night#everything hurt#the neck was the worst but also had an awful headache (might be at least partially connected to the neck pain though)#had to pee what felt like every 30 minutes but was probably 'only' every hour or so#which did not help with the not being able to fall asleep situation#felt like I'd been hit by a bus#finally fell asleep somewhere between 7 and 7:30 am and slept for 4 hours#felt a little bit better but still exhausted and my throat still hurt like a bitch#it's evening again and I'm tired but head's also a mess and I'm scared of having another night like the last one...#finished loading my dishwasher about half an hour ago so I could run it because I'd run out of clean pretty much everything#0/10 do not recommend#feel like I ran a marathon with zero preparation#almost toppled over from the exertion#glad the thing's running now so I won't have to do that again for a bit#just wanna sleep#neck's starting to hurt again#might have to take another ibuprofen#helped a little this morning#hungry but feeling a little sick at the thought of eating#tea's getting cold again#gotta refill my hot water bottle cause it's effing freezing in here; maybe get another blanket too#nothing's comfortable my pillow feels like concrete to my head and I'm annoyingly restless while exhausted to my core
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Took an indica edible right after leaving the bowling alley (45 min ride) and then dyed my hair (took an hour and a half to put the dye in) and then smoked a bowl and now I’m so exhausted and tired and melty body-y but I have to let my hair sit and then wash it out tonight so I’ve gotta stay awake and it helps that I can’t lean on anything but also all I wanna do is lay down on my back with my head in the pillow
#so much dye in my hairrrrr#it’s been in for a half hour now and I wanna do at least another 20 min with the dye in just to make sure it all sticks and looks as good as#possible bc some shades I used different stuff than normal (I think just the green and orange weren’t manic panic but they’re something I’ve#used before a remember liking so hopefully it comes out good when I wash it)
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Beyond The Play
college!Art x college!Reader
summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.
word count: 3.8k
rating: mature/explicit/18+
warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!
a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!
“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.
“Shut up.”
“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.
You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester.
But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.
You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love.
Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player.
But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.
“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”
Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more.
“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.
“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”
She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.
“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.
“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”
“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”
The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.
“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”
Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing.
“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”
“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”
“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”
“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”
“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows.
“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”
“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin.
You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.
“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”
“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.
Art frowns, confused.
“But we were—”
“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”
Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear.
“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”
You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”
“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”
“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”
“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”
Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.
His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up.
“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs.
Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other.
“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”
“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”
“You should stay.”
You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.
A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.
“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”
“I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.
“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”
You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him.
“Okay,” you agree.
“Bathroom’s right there.”
You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.
When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.
“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”
“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”
“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”
“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”
Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.
“I mean only—”
“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.
“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”
Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes.
“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.
“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.
He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.
“What?”
“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”
“What is it?”
“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.
“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”
“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”
Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that.
“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”
“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”
“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.
“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”
“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.
Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.
“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.
You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure.
“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.
You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him.
Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.
Oh, Art.
He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.
A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly.
“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”
You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.
“Art wake up!”
Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him.
“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes.
“Art.”
“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”
“Art…”
“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”
“Art!”
His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps.
“Get back up here,” you tell him.
Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.
“Now?”
“Yes, right now.”
Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.
“I’m sorry—”
“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”
Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”
The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.
“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”
Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission.
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”
“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.
“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone.
You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt.
“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.
“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”
You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits.
“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest.
Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop.
“Art.”
He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered.
He’s too pretty.
You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field.
You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.
You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again.
“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.
His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center.
“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.
“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs.
Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.
“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance.
He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.
Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.
“That feel good?”
“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”
“Yeah?”
Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers.
“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”
“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”
His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.
“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”
You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.
“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”
Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself.
“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer.
He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit.
“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.
“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.
Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.
“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.
“You okay?”
“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes.
Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth.
“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”
“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”
This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”
Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.
“What’d you tell her?”
The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.
“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”
“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”
“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”
“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure.
The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch.
“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”
You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air.
You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.
“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest.
You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”
“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”
Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.
“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”
You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.
“It’s true,” he says with a smile.
“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”
“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”
You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.
“Me too.”
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#art donaldson smut#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson#challengers x reader#challengers#challengers fanfiction#challengers smut#challengers fic#challengers film#challengers movie#challengers 2024#challengers x you#art donaldson x you#art donaldson challengers#challengers imagine#art donaldson fic#art donaldson imagine#tashi x reader#mike faist#mike faist smut#challengers fanfic
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prompt: forced throuple au; Ghost decides that you and Johnny are his (part 6; ghoap x reader) masterlist
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Johnny cleans up the lamp in the morning.
He might as well, being on second watch and all. Ghost wakes him up at the ass crack of dawn with a gentle kick to the ribs (gentle for him) before rolling over on the couch and going right to sleep. It’s routine for them to fall into sleep like rocks sinking in water, but the waking up is never quite as graceful. Johnny snorts awake and whips his head around sharply from side to side before confirming that he’s just in his girlfriend’s apartment and the asshole that woke him up is just his ornery lieutenant.
“I better not hear any fuckin’ jabber,” is all Ghost says before closing his eyes. Johnny chews his lip to keep the grin off of his face.
He tries to keep it down after that. For the first couple of hours, he sits up against the wall and scrolls on his phone. That keeps him occupied until any lingering exhaustion is flushed from his veins.
There’s a broom and dustpan in a small closet in the kitchen where his girl also keeps the garbage bags and compost bin that he uses to sweep up the mess, and he tries to make as little noise as possible while he cleans up. The glass makes a tinkling sound as it’s swept up though, just loud enough that it inevitably wakes his girl up.
She comes creeping out of her room late into the morning, the shop not due to open for another hour or two. The late weekend opening hours mean she usually gets to sleep in.
Weeks back, it used to be something that Johnny got to do with her as well, cuddled until she’d suddenly pull away, then waking up to her swallowing his cock, peeking under the bedsheets to find her pretty head bobbing up and down his length. Groaning and palming her head to press her lips down to the base, eyes rolling back at the sound of her gagging around his length, the base of his dick a mess of come and drool.
In the present day though, she clears her throat. Johnny blinks and refocuses on her.
Her eyes flit to Ghost’s still form on the couch and when they dart back to Johnny, he raises a finger to his lips. Let the man rest. It’s the least Johnny can do for him after he dragged him back to his girl’s place to make amends. She hazards another cautious glance at Ghost—his lieutenant lies still as a statue on the couch, motionless like he isn’t even breathing—before pursing her lips, displeased.
In the light of day, his previous anger feels cleansed. He understands now. They’ve gone about this all wrong, topsy-turvy. He’s been chasing his own tail and making a mess of things for far too long now, but Ghost’s voice is clear in his head now. It settles him.
So when his girl goes to open her mouth, maybe thinking that she can whisper softly enough so as not to wake Ghost up, he steps forward quickly and covers her mouth.
She squawks behind his hand. Again, he shakes his head. Any sound would be too loud for the man slumbering on her couch.
Johnny can feel her swallow behind his palm and it almost makes him salivate. His fingers twitch on her cheeks like he might press them into the soft skin and make her lips pout.
“Not here,” he murmurs, almost mouthing the words.
He waits until she nods before removing his hand. Then he leaves to go dump the dustpan filled with glass into the trash.
She corners him in the bathroom after that and it’s all he can do not to come in his pants. It’s not his fault he’s been trigger happy since Ghost tugged them off on the sparring mats and came on his stomach; he’s been pent up since the last time he saw her. There’s still flakes of dried come on his belly. He only half resists lifting his shirt to look. If his girl knew, she’d be mortified.
He wonders if she’d be more upset that he let Ghost beat off on him or that he didn’t clean up his mess.
Johnny lets the bird guide him to the toilet, letting her shove him down onto the lid.
“Ah, hen, ye really wanna do this now?” he teases, spreading his legs and wrapping his hands around her waist to reel her in, slipping up her shirt at the same time.
He almost moans when she slaps him across the face, biting his lip when she gasps right after, surprised at her own actions. “Oh—fuck—I’m so sorry—”
He clicks his tongue, lips curling up into an impish grin. “Dinnae worry, baby. ‘M tougher than I look.”
It’s a small mercy that she’s too agitated to really look him over because if she were to direct her gaze even slightly south, she’d find Johnny’s shaft straining against his fly, hard enough to pound nails the second her hand touched his face. He swallows a groan and his fingers tighten, sinking deeper into her flesh.
“I didn’t mean to—Jesus, it doesn’t matter.” He loves that when she gets frustrated, her bottom lip juts out. It makes him want to sink his teeth into it. “When your…boss or whatever…wakes up, can you please take him and leave?”
“Leave?” Johnny repeats, blinking up at her innocently.
“Yes. Leave,” she says, stressing the word. He hums and strokes his thumb over the soft skin of her stomach, pleased that she hasn’t yet told him to take his hands off her. Sweet little bird. “We kissed and made up. That’s what you came for, right? So the two of you can get going once he wakes up.”
“No breakfast?”
She looks distinctly unimpressed. “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”
“Aye, I ken, baby,” Johnny croons, pulling her in closer, smiling when she squeaks and braces her hands on his shoulders, his face almost cradled between her breasts. He turns his head to kiss one, mouth lingering over the cotton of her shirt, tempted almost to bite and rip it. “It’s jus’ that…seems an awful like the second Simon and I take off, you’re jus’ gonna go right back to cold shouldering me. Sure you’re nae jus’ putting on a little show for me now?”
Her fingers grip him by the fabric of his shirt. “Johnny—” She yelps when he bites the inside of her breast, snarling when she tries to pull away. “Okay, okay, okay, I got it—”
“That’s right,” he says with a content sigh, pulling back just the slightest bit. “You’re nae going anywhere. Not until we’ve talked this out, nice and civil.”
When she stares down at him, wide-eyed, like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, it’s a rush like he’s never experienced. He feels right in the flow of things now, his head on straight for once.
“What’s there to talk about?” she mumbles, and he almost melts. “I’m not mad anymore.”
“Nae mad? Then why’re ye trying to kick us out?”
“Because I’m busy, Johnny,” she snaps. “The shop’s opening in an hour and I don’t have time to babysit the two of you.”
“Ye willnae even notice we’re here, hen, I promise. Fuck, I’ll even help ye out—make some deliveries, go shake anyone down that still owes ye—”
“I don’t shake down my customers, Johnny—”
“Whatever ye need, baby.” He drags his palms up her sides, pulling up her shirt with his hands. Her tits pop out like ripe fruit dangling in front of his mouth, puffy nipples begging to be sucked on. “Simon and I will be right here. Ye can use us however ye want.”
He stares at her nipple while saying that, unconsciously leaning forward until his lips graze her skin and his tongue pokes out. She doesn’t budge, just curses under her breath and lets him rub his tongue over her beaded nipple, shaking in his hold. Johnny bets if he pulled down those little sleep shorts of hers, he’d find a wet little cunt begging for a fat cock to fill her up.
It’d take nothing for him to pull them down and give her what she’s asking for. The love of his life is tucked away beneath a layer of flimsy cotton and begging for him to give her some love and affection. Johnny hasn’t kissed her in God knows how long—a week? Two? He’d probably find her swollen and aching beneath her shorts; could get her to come just by dragging two fingers up the seam of her.
He knows what Ghost would say though, so he drags his teeth over her nipple just for the pleasure of feeling her flinch and then pulls back. The bird blinks down at him with hazy eyes when he helps readjust her shirt, pulling it back down to cover her gorgeous tits, a damp spot on her shirt over the nipple he just had in his mouth.
“We’re not going to…?” she asks, letting the question dangle in midair. She says it without thinking—clearly, because the second it dawns on her that she just asked if they were going to fuck in the bathroom with Johnny sitting on the toilet, she looks horrified with herself. It’s beyond endearing.
“No’ with Simon in the other room, baby. Wouldnae be fair for him to have to listen in.”
He doesn’t tell her that fairness in this case doesn’t mean cruel. It means that it wouldn’t be possible.
Still, he needs to shoo her out of the bathroom to tug one out into the toilet bowl. Johnny would be half tempted to jerk off onto her mirror just to leave his mark where she could see, but he has some manners.
He gives himself a nice, leisurely tug with the help of his girl’s expensive hand lotion. It’s not as viscous as the lube in the gallon tub on his nightstand back at the barracks, but it’s a good substitute; makes his hand glide nicely over his shaft. If he closes his eyes, it even smells like her, like it’s his girl giving him a morning reach around, and part of Johnny wonders whether he was too quick to kick her out of the bathroom. Ghost wouldn’t begrudge him a quick and dirty jerk.
The thought dissolves the longer his hand flies over his dick though. Hard to think about anything outside the present moment when his hand is braced against the wall and his orgasm barrelling towards him. When he comes, it’s with a deep, shuddering grunt, not even bothering to muffle the sound. He hopes his girl hears him from the other room. He hopes it makes her squirm and ache.
When he comes out of the bathroom, another voice takes him by surprise.
“Johnny. You’re on breakfast.”
Ghost’s voice is gruff in the early morning hours, abrupt. Rarely could it be classified as gentle, but it’s like chert rattling in a leather bag after hours of disuse. Especially since it comes out of nowhere, the man asleep one moment and awake the next. Johnny’s worked with him long enough to not flinch at the sudden sound of his voice, but his girl hasn’t; she yelps when his voice comes unbidden from the couch, big body suddenly upright like he’s been awake the whole time.
He’s no cook, but Johnny can rustle up eggs and bacon like any other self-respecting serviceman. On deployment, they used to rotate cooking duty every night, no one skilled enough to take over the post permanently. Still, Johnny eyes Ghost worriedly when he takes a seat across from the bird at her little kitchen table. It’s not a table meant for two grown men, just a small wooden thing with four chairs, only enough for one on each side. It means that Ghost’s knees knock against hers when he takes the chair across from her, forcing her to curl up into herself, tucking her legs under the chair.
He stares her down. Menacing eyes. Not the kind of man you want sitting across from you, no matter the circumstances. It makes Johnny anxious to turn his back on them when he has to crack the eggs into the pan, checking over his shoulder religiously. The whites go crispy at the edges before he remembers to flip them over.
“You work downstairs in the flower shop,” Ghost says bluntly, breaking the silence. His first words to Bird all morning. Not a question.
“…Yes,” Bird answers gingerly. Her palms are clamped over her knees, sweating likely. “I own it.”
“Since when?” He doesn’t blink before firing off another question.
“Um…two years.”
“Where’d you work before?”
“In…in London. I was a shopgirl there though—”
“Where’s your family from then?”
It goes on that way for a time, an interrogation with no rhyme or reason. Even Johnny has to wonder at Ghost’s intentions—knows that there’s no shot that Ghost hasn’t already done a background check on her. Why interrogate the bird then? Why rattle off question after question in such quick succession? Why make her tremble and look down at the tabletop and stutter out her answers and fidget under his stare—
He notices Ghost’s hand slip beneath the table to grip his length, spreading his legs to help readjust.
Ah. Mean bastard. Of course he’d get off on making her squirm.
The bacon burns. Johnny can’t help it. He listens attentively to her clear voice—softer in the morning hours, still sleep-laden and flowery—whispering out her life’s story, dick getting hard behind the kitchen island. He bites his lip to hold back a moan when she trips over her words. Thrusts forward to rub his bulge against the underside of the island when she chews on her lip, relieving some of the pressure. It drives him mad that there’s a wet cunt going unsatisfied just a few feet away.
Ghost shoots him a sharp look as if he can hear his thoughts. “Johnny.”
He turns around to flip the burner off.
#there are like 2 more parts to come btw - it's not done yet. im just doing 2k chunks#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#ghoap x reader#ghost/soap/reader#soap x reader#soap x you#soap/reader
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Heyyyy can you do a Hotch x reader where readers just kinda been down all day but doesn’t wanna tell Hotch because she’s kinda used to being the badass with all her walls up? And hotch kinda pulls her to the side and forces it out of her 😊😊
thank you for requesting!! fem, 1.2k
Hotch has dark hair. He’s an older guy but he’s yet to grey, hair like the strands are soaked with coal pitch, even darker under the office lights. He braces his hand on the desk and ducks toward Spencer’s computer screen, pointing at a corner with patience.
“This one,” Hotch says.
“Why would they organise it like this?” Spencer asks, his voice bordering incredulous.
“I’m not sure. You’ll remember where this is?”
“Do you usually have to tell me more than once?” Spencer says lightly.
“Ask your licence to carry.”
You’d laugh, his wit quick and poor Spencer a good sport, but your head feels heavy with a forming upset. Like your mind has turned to thick porridge. You woke up on the wrong side of the bed, but you don’t feel angry, more magnificently empty. Nothing is touching beyond your surface level.
“Thank you, sir,” Spencer says.
You ignore the weight of a gaze on you while you click through your emails, prioritising what needs to be answered before the end of the day, the end of the week, and the end of the month as Hotch taught you to. You double click an email chain from a consult you’d been assigned from out of state and reread your response, nervous that your lack of confidence today might have shone through blunt wording. Hotch is looped into the chain —he can correct any glaring errors should you have made them.
“Hey,” Hotch says when you don’t look up. He doesn’t use your name, and he doesn’t need to. “I’d like to talk to you. Let’s go up to my office.”
“Can I have a half hour to work through my emails?” you ask apologetically.
“I’d prefer we talk now. Any overdue reply can be blamed on me,” he says.
The way he talks is natural to him but perhaps strange if it were another person, with another disposition. You know Hotch to be both gentle and stern at once. His tone leaves little room for debate, but it reassures you to hear the measured cadence of each word without rush. The openness of his expression is similarly comforting, and though he doesn’t know it —you would never own up to feeling this way, verbally or physically— you’d quite like to be comforted by him. Even if he takes you to the office to reprimand you, you’ll at least have been near him for long enough to forget your odd aching.
Hotch doesn’t walk until you do, taking each step by side until he gets to the office, where he opens the door to encourage you in.
You drift a few feet inward, shoes soft on clean, crisp carpeting. Hotch closes the door, where he stands momentarily, silence held.
“Everything okay?” you ask.
Hotch pulls out one of the two black chairs in front of his desk and gestures for you to sit. “Everything’s okay,” he says, standing back to give you space to sit, his hand moving to rest on the back of the chair as you sit. It whines as you shift to see him. “With me, everything’s okay. How about you?”
“Everything’s fine with me.”
You’d pad your explanation out if you didn’t think he was about to tell you what you’re in the brig for. No one likes a nervous Nelly.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
You glance at his hand behind you and he moves it swiftly. “Hotch?” you ask tentatively.
“I’ve noticed you aren’t yourself today.”
“I’m completely myself.”
“It’s not like you to stare into space.” He frowns. “I want to sit down because I don’t like towering over you, but I don’t want you to internalise this as a meeting.”
“You’re not towering over me, Hotch.
His frown doesn’t ebb. “…We each have our own unique levy to carry the weight of, I know that. But it’s not… nice, to see you like this. I’d like to know what’s wrong.”
Again, no nonsense and reassuring at once.
Maybe he is towering a little. You avert your gaze from his, feeling uncharacteristically meek for a weak moment.
“I think I woke up mixed up,” you confess eventually, picking at a stray thread on your skirt until the tips of your fingers burn. “Like, nothing happened to upset me, but I…”
“You do feel upset.”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“You’re not sure why?”
“Not really. I think that–” You lick your lips nervously, not finding the right words, wanting to be vulnerable and simultaneously reluctant to show him anything he might not like. “I think it’s lots of smaller things and they’re layering on top of each other. Do you get that?”
“All the time. Though usually my way of dealing with it is less pleasant for others.” He looks down at you steadily. “And yours,” —he aims enough fondness at you to stop your heart— “is self-contained. But I don't want you to think you’re walking through life unseen.”
“Unseen,” you repeat.
He stands very still. “Can I touch your face?” he asks quietly.
You don’t know why he’d ask, but you say, “Yes, please.”
“Please,” he says. You’re repeating each other. The air in the room feels thicker as he lifts his hand to your cheek and cups it gently. “When you’re upset, I notice. I can’t help but notice.” Your face lists into his palm slowly, worried he’ll move, but he holds you and he watches you with care. “Is there anything I can do to make it all feel better?”
“I don’t think so.”
He rubs your cheek with his thumb. “No?”
You close your eyes. “No,” you say, matching his volume.
“I don’t know what to do now,” he murmurs.
“Sorry, I’m okay,” you say, asking yourself to move away from his touch, but unable to force it, “I’m gonna…”
It’s a boundary crossed, but you and Hotch are good at that. He’s constantly treating you with more sweetness than a boss should show toward his employee, and you eat it up despite every instinct in you that says you shouldn’t. So you won’t tell him you’ve had a bad day until he asks, and even then, you have nothing permanent to offer him for fixing, and still he’ll hold your face and make it feel ordinary. Like he’s touched you a hundred times, something about it feels right, and real. Your cheek feels softer under his tracing thumb. You could fall asleep in his hands.
“How can I make you feel better?” he asks again.
“It’s not that bad.”
“But what can I do?”
You want to ask for a hug, but even the idea of it is too much to think about. Miss Independent admitting she needs more than this? When it’s already more than you should have?
Profilers profile, and somehow you give yourself away.
“Come on,” he says softly.
He hugs you. His hand falls from your face to your shoulder, wrapping behind it, encompassing you in a strong arm as he bends down to embrace you fully.
“I wish you’d ask for more,” he says, his free arm slinking between your arm and side, hand to your back, encouraging you to hug him back.
You don’t know what to do with your arms. Each movement feels stilted, but Hotch makes up for it. He hugs you without inhibition, like he’s wanted to do it for a long, long time.
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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187. spencer reid (18+)
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
summary: you're dealing with a dumb, whiny boy and you are wondering where your boy genius went.
warnings: 18+, sub!spencer & dom!reader, dumbification, whining, whimpering, overstimulation, handjob, orgasm denial, begging..you know the rest ;)
a/n: this is a result of too much ai spencer tiktok edits....wrote in a rush on my phone late at night but that's how fanfiction are meant to be written. enjoy angels <3 requests are open if anyone want to drop by!
“okay spencer, this is an easy one. can you answer it for me baby?" you pause expectantly, and it takes him a while, but spencer only mewls in response, frustrated. "what states are next to louisiana?”
you see spencer’s eyebrows slowly pent up in thought but then he immediately gives up in lieu of letting out another pathetic moan, bucking up uselessly to your fingers. “answer the question baby," you prod sweetly, kissing your words into his cheek.
“i-hnfgg…” he pants breathlessly, eyes shut tight and when they flutter open, they are round with plead. “please, it hurts so bad, please let me cum i—“
you let go of his cock entirely and he whines, trying to shuffle closer so that you would touch him. in response you move away further, smirk at your lips. “be a good boy for me and i will.”
“i am being a good boy for you!” spencer whines, his eyes blown with need and watering, body writhing pathetically against the sheets. his dick is flushed an angry red and you know he’s only several strokes away from coming undone, being so closely attuned to your boy. “i’m being good i—“ his words hitched in his throat as you gently caress only the tip of his cock, teasing.
“the good boy i remember is super smart,” you slide up to him, pressing a leering kiss on his jaw. “the guy has an iq of 187. can you believe that? how rare is that?”
spencer doesn’t answer, his pleas and whines soft and stuck in his throat as he keeps trying to buck up his hips to get more of your touch, but with no avail. “hm? how rare is it spence?”
“i don’t know!” he cries, tears leaking and wetting his pretty lashes. “i—please it hurts so bad, just please let me cum i’ll do anything, please!”
“answer me and i’ll let you cum baby boy,” you say smoothly, removing your hand from him (which elicited a very impatient groan) to spit on your palm before going back again, moving your hand up and down his shaft deliberately slow. you know it drives him crazy, even crazier than he is right now and you soak in the satisfaction of it. “how many people has your kind of genius spence? hm?" you add encouragingly. "get this one right for me and i’ll let you cum baby.”
“i…uhh….” he's slow, and even slower with your hand working and overstimulating his already-sensitive cock. “one out of every hundred million people. 1000 who ever lived,” he finally decides to peel open his eyes again, searching your face for any hint of approval. as a response you flick up your wrist quickly and he nods his head back, an obscene and needy moan coming out of his mouth.
“and the states surrounding louisiana?”
his head snaps back immediately and stares at you in betrayal, like a kid being scammed out of his cookie, completely flustered and debauched. “you said one question!”
“i changed my mind baby,” you soothe, pressing an apology kiss in the corner of his mouth. “the faster you are the faster you get to cum. do you want to cum honey?”
“yes! yes i wanna cum so bad,” he cries, hands coming up to rest lightly at your waist and you can feel the tremble in them. the heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach has been there for at least half an hour now and you’ve just been toying with it, reliving it then bringing the pressure back. now he’s an absolute mess, curly hair sprayed on the pillow and stuck to his forehead, his pretty, delicate face ruined with tear stains, but it just makes him prettier. he’s completely at your mercy, writhing and whimpering and begging you to do something about his looming orgasm and you denying him of it.
“then answer the question baby boy,” you murmur encouragingly in his ear, fingers still teasing him. he’s so sensitive and overstimulated to the point that a single touch can make his entire body jump, so you are careful. too much and he might actually loose it, and you both know this. “you remember it, right spence?” you press, "the question?"
“hnngg,” he whimpers when you start biting on the lobe of his ear, grabbing and squeezing onto the sheets for dear life. “umm…arkansas and… i-i don’t know,” he admits shamefully, then desperately tries to make up for it. “but i got the first one! you said if i get it i could cum. i’ve been such a good boy for you, just this one time, please!” he begs, not in control of what he says anymore and it shows. he’s completely delirious and fucked stupid, and you take pity on him.
“aww, my sweet boy,” you coo sweetly, running your fingers through his messy mop of hair and pulling it away from his face for him. “i’m sorry angel, but if you can’t get it right, you don’t get to cum,” you whisper faux apologetically in his ear. you see when spencer’s eyes widen with horror, and the tears begins to fall freely.
“please,” he begs, his fingers pleadingly reaching out to try to touch you, convince you to change your mind. it’s a foolish and naive attempt, and he knows it too but can’t help taking his chances. he’s desperate for anything. “please, i’ll be so good for you. i’ll be your best boy. i promise. i swear. it hurts so bad y/n please, i cant take it—“
“fine,” you give in, only because you know for a fact that he can't last any longer. really, you're surprised he's managed to make it this long so far; you had already planned his punishment in your mind. your boy deserves his reward.
you speed up your movements and the sounds coming out of his mouth becomes wanton, sobs becomes louder and his whines a pitch higher and he’s strung high like a violin string, ready to snap. “cum for me, pretty boy.”
at your command his body gives out obediently, thick strings of cum spitting out of his cock, painting your hand and his hips, coating at his thighs. he twitches and his thighs tremble weakly as small blurts of cum starts to collect at the tip of his cock and you kiss him during all of it as he cries against your lips. he pants hard, and when you accidentally swipe a finger over him, he whines painfully and inches out the way, sore. when it’s over, he collapses into you, spent.
“thank you,” he says, sounding genuinely grateful, his voice muffled and his face buried in your shoulder. you laugh, fingers smoothing out the mess of his hair, pulling his head back and pressing kisses all over his face. spencer needs the aftercare, especially after being edged on for so long, needs the love and the assurance and the cuddles afterwards. "i love you."
"and i you," you say, smiling when he whines predictably, unsatisfied.
"you gotta say the whole thing," he says, looking mildly upset, lips jutting out and giving you the fattest, most foul and adorable pout, eyes big and searching.
"'m sorry," you weave your fingers with his, and he presses a kiss against your knuckles. "i love you."
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid oneshot#dr spencer reid#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid#criminal minds fandom#criminal minds fanfiction#mgg#matthew gray gubler#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you#spencer reid smut#sub spencer reid#sub!spencer#my works
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Disenchanted 6
Male Reader x Karina
Tags: 2k, cheating, creampie, cuckold, daddy kink
The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.
It was well past 2am before Karina and I finished our marathon sex session. The ravishing woman having run out of energy, just letting me lazily pump her cunt with the last of my load for the evening.
It was a surprise that Jaewook was still asleep throughout the ordeal, given the fact that Karina and I really didn’t hold back, I even held her face against his thigh at one point, while railing her from behind, the slaps of flesh distorted by Jaewook’s snores.
I left an exhausted looking Karina to get some much needed sleep, lying face down next to her husband, covering her silky naked form with the sheets before closing the bedroom door behind me. There was an ache in my legs as I slowly descended the wooden stairs. I must have emptied at least five loads inside her that night, my sack was still reeling from the demands I put on it, my cock slowly getting accustomed to not being snugly sheathed within Karina’s tight body.
Opening the doors and slipping into the early morning air sent a ripple of energy spiraling through my senses. My eyes perking up suddenly at the rush of cold wind now billowing all around me as I retired back inside my homely lodge just in time before the heavens opened up with rain coming splashing down on the wooden roof. In many respects, tonight had been more extreme than the Yeonjun, Hajoon affair, it was with her husband, one she shunned for most of the night. Not that Jaewook caught on at first, but I had a feeling he was starting to connect the dots, the longer the three of us fucked. It was the little things, like the eye contact she gave me while we made love, not the same if any when it came to her husband. It was almost like he was, as she described Yeonjun and Hajoon before, a prop. It would not be too long till that final blow would be dealt, to my knowledge we were going to tell Jaewook in a few hours, not knowing what the best time to spill the beans was, if ever. Little did I know the blow would be dealt far sooner than expected and in the most brutal fashion imagined.
—
“Hey...can I come in?” Karina said, amidst the increasingly loud pitter patter of the rain outside.
I must have fallen asleep, checking my watch it was now half five in the morning with the birds already chirping outside.
“Hey...sure...come in.” I replied, getting up and ushering a soaking Karina in.
She was drenched, wearing nothing but a white bra and matching underwear, as she strolled into my posh glamping abode, a wicked smile strewn across her face.
“Karina, you are soaked...” I said, wrapping a towel around her and bringing her into the warmth by the fireplace.
“More than you know.” She chimed back, looking at me with those deep brown eyes of hers.
I felt like she wanted to tell me something, something important, there was a level of excitement emanating from her that I could not quite pinpoint.
“So...I had a talk with Jaewook” Karina said, “it’s over...” with finality, running her hands along my arm.
“Um...what...I thought we were going to do it tog...” I started.
“It’s better this way.” She replied with a smile.
“How...did he take it?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Not good at first, there were tears, his tears that is and then anger, then tears again. I left him in the bedroom to think it through, but I am pretty sure he has passed out again.” Karina said.
“Wow...so...” I replied.
“So...I guess that’s that...” Karina said, closing the gap.
“I’m yours...” She followed up.
“Seriously Karina, you wanna fool around after such a big decision has bee...” I started again, before getting interrupted by a kiss.
Her soft lips melded with mine, as if we were made for one another, the warmth of the fire stoking our bodies as I pulled her closer for a deeper embrace.
“You know...we were meant to do this together right?” I said, staring at her beautiful face.
“Guess...I’ve been a bad girl...” Karina replied, placing her hands on my chest.
“You know what happens to bad girls right?” I replied, catching onto the sudden erotic turn of events.
“What’s that?” She said, biting down hard on my lip as I felt her hands roam into my pants and grab harshly at my sack.
“They get...punished...” I replied, moaning at her touch while simultaneously man handling her to the bed.
“Wait...” Karina said.
“Film it...” She followed up with a cheeky grin.
I walked over to the side table, propping up my phone and pressing record, making sure the lens captured everything. This was to be our second video, and I wanted it to be hotter than the last.
“Ass across my lap, young lady.” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Karina presented her pert derriere to me.
“You ready?” I asked, palms already about to strike.
She looked at me, over her shoulder, in anticipation, sucking down on my thumb from my free hand.
“Don’t hold back...be rough with me...Daddy.” Karina said, seductively, before tensing her rear for me in quiet trepidation.
I drove down with full force, not holding back as I connected with Karina’s ass cheeks, the ripple effect causing a loud slapping noise to ring off the walls.
“Ahhhhh...Daddy...” Karina wailed.
“You like that?” I replied, coming down harder this time, slapping her rear while squeezing her red raw flesh under my hands.
“Yes...AHHH...harder...ahhhh.” Karina screamed, her rear now getting battered from my slaps.
Karina started whimpering with each subsequent smack, her body trembling under my grasp, till the brunette turned around over her shoulder, eyes watering slightly at the force of my strikes.
“Fuckkk...fuck me now.” Karina said breathlessly.
I was lost in the moment, my hand still shaking after smacking her ass red raw, staring down at Karina’s tight body, I slipped out of my boxers and rammed myself as far as I could into her married cunt. My tip piercing her silky folds with ease as I split the mother of three open with my cock, my crown roughly smashing up against her cervix with a thud as I bottomed her out. Karina felt different this time, kinkier in her requests as if the ante had been dialed up a few more notches as she pushed back onto my deep hard thrusts. Her walls sucking my shaft off as I drilled her mercilessly into the mattress, adding a few more slaps to her ass each time I pumped her cunt with more of my dick.
“Pull...my hair...” Karina said between moans, sucking on my fingers as I pried her mouth open with one hand and yanked on her hair with another.
It was the roughest we had ever been, but she loved it, arching her back to allow me to penetrate her pussy to the fullest, filling her pink chamber with my meat as I stuffed her unfaithful cunt with cock.
“Ughhh…Minho...yes...fuck...dadddyyyy...” Karina moaned, her eyes locked on the camera as I railed her in the prone position.
It was just in that moment that the front door swung open. her husband Jaewook standing a few feet away from us, a look of horror on his face. He could not comprehend what he was seeing, words failing him as he just watched, slack jawed as Karina and I stared back at him.
“Moree...give me more...” Karina demanded.
We were too far gone, not giving a shit about other people’s feelings at this point, we just needed to get off.
“You like that?” I asked, spanking her rear.
“Uhhh...yes...just...like...that...daddy.” She replied, biting her lips.
“Better than your husbands?” I asked, through gritted teeth as I fucked more of my straining cock into her tight pussy.
She raised her head, looking Jaewook deep in his tearful eyes as I penetrated her cunt.
“Worlds...better...” She replied with little remorse, pushing back on me as I flipped her over onto her back.
“Spread your legs baby.” I said, rubbing furiously at her throbbing clitoris.
She complied, parting her bronze thighs for me as I pierced her folds with my dick once more. I could sense her eyes ever so often glance over at a frozen Jaewook, his face not showing anger or sadness anymore, but acceptance as I spread his wife’s legs wider, spearing her cunt with deep rupturing strokes.
Karina’s cries of pleasure were mounting, her body was shaking as the brunette hung her head of the side of the bed, allowing me to plough into her marital pussy over and over again, ripping through her pussy with a hunger what needed to be satiated. My cock irrigating her womb of air, the more meat I fucked into her, forcing it out in a hurry, causing a highly erotic farting noise to ring out from between her legs.
I slipped my fingers into her mouth, pumping my dick deeper into her womb, feeling the warmth of her cunt urging me for release as we locked eyes.
“I want to feel you cum...” Karina moaned.
“Wai...” Jaewook spoke, his voice feeble in the distance.
We ignored his plea, locked in our own mating ritual as Karina pushed her hips towards me with each thrust, goading me into seeding her pussy.
“Fuck a baby into me...” Karina whispered, into my ear, loud enough for the killer blow to be heard by Jaewook.
It was enough to set us both off as I fucked my cock deep into Karina’s cunt, exploding at the tip as my pent up sperm peppered her cervix, leaking into her uterus as I injected her twitching womb with my thick milk.
“Ughhhh...baby...fill me...fill...me...up.” Karina groaned.
Her own orgasm triggering as I pumped her pussy fill of cum, my seed dribbling out the sides off her slit as I felt a rush of fresh fluids rush against my cock. She was gushing, the mix of my seed and her juices now coalesced as I force fed her married pussy more of my meat and sperm, right in front of her husband. I felt wave after wave of my cum, pump into her luscious cunt, spurt after spurt painting her insides in my sticky white milk.
Karina was dripping from the rear, as I finally stopped twitching inside her. The slickness of her womb bore the fruits of our labor as her gushing ceased, the stickiness smeared all over her inner thighs, dripping down her red raw ass cheeks as she got up and lay beside me in a huff. We stared at each other for a long moment, forgetting our unwanted guest for a few seconds as his sobs started again. Looking over, Karina purposely strode over to him, still leaking her womanly fluids form her slippery well fucked pussy.
“Jaewook...it’s over.” She said firmly, before turning to me wearing a smile on her face.
I looked at her, amazed and slightly shocked at the brutality of it all. Everything was caught on camera, the sex, the moans, the spanking, the lot. Rolling her hips on my lap while Jaewook took a last look at his wife, she turned to me, taking my tongue between her lips and sucking me firmly.
“Now...fuck me till I pass out...” Karina said, slipping my spent cock back into her freshly claimed cunt.
In that moment, she belonged to me, and she knew it, presenting her body to me for me to claim, claim her mind, body and soul, Karina was mine.
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felix would def rub your clit through your panties until you cum 💕 he’s such a tease :/
Yeshewouldyeshewouldyeshewould.
He'll do it at the most crude times as well. Most recently, being a party, the two of you had gone to.
You'd been sitting on his lap, your knees bent over his spread thighs. Your head rests against his shoulder as you fade in and out of consciousness, having been at the party for a little over two hours or so.
Felix can sense your tiredness as he massages the soft base of your neck, taking occasional sips from his glass cup of burboun while talking amongst his friends.
Every now and then, he tries to include you in the conversation, shrugging his shoulder against you or bouncing his knees to get you to wake up some.
"Whatcha' think about that, baby?" He'd ask, fully aware you weren't engaged at all.
"Hm?" You rub at one of your eyes, meeting his baby blues before letting yourself relax back into his hold.
At least another half hour passes before you've woken yourself up out of your tired state in annoyance.
You just wanted to go home and sleep, and all Felix seemed to want to do was talk until the damn birds were chirping and the sun was up.
"Lex," you tug at his baby blue polo.
He only hums, not bothering to turn towards you admist his conversation.
"Lex," you try again, pulling at his arm this time. "I wanna go back to the dorms. I'm tired."
"I-in a minute, hon." He gently waves at you before returning to the conversation.
The disregard for you sends another wave of annoyance through you.
Maneuvering yourself out of his hold, you stand and begin to take step – knowing Felix wouldn't let you walk back through the quad in the dark.
Almost immediately as you're standing, you're being pulled back by his hand on your forearm.
The conversation has shifted over to one of Felix's other friends.
When you fall back into the couch, Felix leans down to whisper in your ear.
"Behave."
"I wanna go–"
"Cut it out." He cuts you off with a quick swipe to your cunt through your leggings.
The pressure pulls a gasp from you, and one of his friends turns to look over at the two of you before engaging in the conversation again.
You go to speak, cut off by Felix pressing the heel of his palm against your heat and thumbing his fingers over your soaked folds through the leggings of your fabric as he joins into the conversation again.
Over the next ten or so minutes, he brings you to and from the edge over and over until you're visibly panting beside him into his arm.
"D'awh," Felix coos, "you gettin' tired?" He whispers low enough for you to hear.
You nod into his arm.
"Use your words." His voice deepens again.
"Please, I wanna cum." You sob through a choked whisper.
"Why should I let you? You've been acting like a spoiled brat this whole night." He flicks his thumb to apply pressure on your clit and you jolt.
"I've been being good, I have!" You cry into his shoulder.
Felix doesn't say anything for a moment, opting to circle his fingers over your soaked heat again and up to your clit.
"Cum fr'me then."
White hot heat sends shivers down your arms and legs as you come undone – biting at the freckled skin of his arm as he continues to circle your clit.
You grab at his wrist, halting his movements.
Chatter between the group continues before Felix takes a deep sigh and pats your thigh as he stands up.
"Well, it's gettin' late guys, and I gotta get her back to the dorms." He smiles as he helps you up on wobbly legs.
Nobody seems to notice your behavior as anything other than tired and work to make room for the two of you to exit the party.
As you both walk outside and he lands a slap to your ass.
"Don't try getting smart with me." He adds when you turn to him in shock, rubbing at your cheek to ease the sting. "If you behave tonight, I might give you something tomorrow."
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Ghost is shocked by your immunity to being tased.
I received an ask from an anon for this story. Unfortunately, either Tumblr ate it, or I accidentally deleted it; I can’t be sure because I trust neither of us. Gladly, I remember the gist of it. I hope that anon sees it. (Sorry, anon, and thank you for the ask.)
———————————————————————
You push open the workshop door, and notice a curated display of taser gear spread across the table for today’s training session. Ghost, your lieutenant and trainer for the day, occupies a corner, busy with extracting all sorts of stuff—taser guns, pulses, stun batons—from bags and placing them on the table. He catches the sound of your entrance and turns halfway to face you.
“You’re early,” he mutters under his breath.
“I just couldn’t wait, Lieutenant,” you reply sarcastically.
He huffs. “We’ll see about that once training’s over.”
You approach the table, and look at the equipment. You reach out and grasp a taser gun. It looks exactly like a pistol but bulkier and has yellow elements to distinguish it from firearms.
“Could you please remind me how this baby works?” you ask.
He turns his entire body towards you and contemplates your question. Although the training session is just half an hour away, and he doesn’t technically need to explain anything, you’re his weak spot. So he leaves the gear in the bag, walks towards you, and begins to give you a detailed explanation.
It almost feels like a private session, but you have ulterior motives—you’ve already been through a similar class in the past and are eager to skip this one. Despite your repeated attempts to convey this to Ghost, he remained adamant that this course would be a refresher for you and, thus, necessary.
“Once you have a clear shot, you press the trigger.” He concludes.
“Like this?” you ask, directing the taser towards your right foot and squeezing the trigger. It stings, but your previous training has taught you how to get used to the feeling and handle the pain better. Or at least make it look that way.
Your poor lieutenant stands speechless as he looks at the now-fired taser gun. He slowly looks down, where his shocked eyes trace the two wires extending from the device, connecting to your foot.
“What the fuck did you do?” he shouts, gesturing towards your leg.
“Jeez, Lt., you seem stunned,” you comment.
“Are you having a laugh, soldier?” He scolds you with as much authority as he has left from what he just experienced. He drops to the ground, working to remove the wires from your foot. He stands up, alternating his gaze between the device and your leg. Finally, he turns to you.
“How come you’re not in pain?” he asks, confused.
You shrug, unaffected, and pick up another taser from the table. “Maybe the first one was defective; let’s give this one a go,” you suggest, aiming at your other foot and firing.
“Are you out of your mind, Y/N?” he screams in a high-pitched voice and kneels again to retrieve the second taser from your foot.
“Come on, Lt., it’s not as bad as it seems!” You reassure him with a grin, seizing a third taser from the table. This time, you point it at Ghost’s leg. “Wanna see?”
He lifts his knee and gathers his arms close to his body. He looks like a pitcher, ready to throw the ball in a baseball match.
“No, no, thank you very much”, he protests.
“Sure?” You ask and aim at his other leg on the ground.
“Absolutely certain, you maniac,” he says, switching legs. “How far are you willing to go to skip this class?!”
“Not too far,” you reply with a smile, “as far as these two wires go when they get propelled from the taser gun.”
“Cut it out!”
To his relief, the rest of the team enters the room, and Ghost instantly transitions into his authoritative persona. He places both feet on the ground, protrudes his chest, and places both hands on his waist. He clears his throat.
“Take your positions, everyone,” he commands, “everyone except for you, Y/N.”
“Why am I excluded, Lieutenant?” you ask with a pout and a playful wink. “Is it because I’m unfazed?”
“Nah, soldier,” he replies and walks behind you to tidy the wires from the already-shot taser guns, “it’s because you’re a live wire—always keeping me on my toes.”
———————————————————————
#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x y/n#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x gn!reader#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n#simon riley#call of duty#modern warfare 2#cod mwii#cod ghost#ghost call of duty#ghost cod mw2#cod mw2 fanfic#ghost cod mwii#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon ghost riley fic
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kisses and braids.
summary: you braid central cee’s hair, but he seems to be a bit too distracted.
pairs: girlfriendreader x boyfriendcee
genre: fluff + making out?
word count: 1.2k
a/n: idk about u but something about braiding a mans hair just does it for me. 😩
“oakley, if you don’t stop moving i swear your braids won’t turn out right.” you complained as he leaned over to pick up something that he managed to drop on the floor, a smile only grew on his lips amused at your annoyance.
central cee and you were seated in the bedroom of your apartment as he found himself comfortable upon the floor, rested on a pillow within your legs whilst you were seated upon your bed.
it was a random time within the evening when the idea of braids came across his mind and of course he turned to you, pleading for you to braid his hair.
and now here you were, braiding his hair into cornrows and having been doing so for the past hour or so, only getting to about half of his head.
one thing about central cee is that he had a lot of hair, but for some reason despite your advice, he always decided to keep it underneath something.
“shit, does it have to be this tight?” he asks you as his tattooed hand comes to rest upon his newly braided hair, you giggled at his silliness.
“baby i’m sorry, but if you want them to look good for longer they can’t be loose.” you insist to him and he sighs, staring off towards the television in your room.
“i just wanna look good for my show this saturday.” he mumbles as he opens a packet of whatever it is that he decides to eat, eyes glued onto the screen.
you pick out a comb and part his head, pulling apart his hair as you do so. “you always look good, “ you start causing an adorable smile to grow on his lips, “why don’t you just keep your hair out once in a while?” you ask him.
he shrugs his shoulders, “i guess it’s too much work innit, at least now there’ll be something done to it.” he insists, implying towards the braids you do.
you pull off of his head and lean back checking out your job so far, unable to see the front you sigh. “can you like turn this way?” you ask him.
you tilt your head towards him to get a better view of the job you’ve done so far. the two of you make eye contact with one one another and a smile grows upon his lips.
“what’s funny?” you ask him confused, comb in other hand. he smiles brightly and adorably, “nah nothing, you just look cute when you’re focused.”
you roll your eyes upon hearing his words and it only makes him laugh, “shut up.” you mumble. “it’s real cute.” he continues.
the room fell quiet and you turned your focus back onto braiding as neat as you possibly could do so, you were on the final braid luckily so it wasn’t a hard job.
cench was too busy eating upon on the crisps within his hands as he found himself interested in whatever it was that he was watching, one thing about the two of you is although you might not talk a lot with each other, something about the quiet company is comforting.
his hand came to playfully hit against your leg in a rhythmic form, the sudden feeling wasn’t annoying but comforting knowing the way he would be playful with you.
“why are you hitting my leg now?” you ask him, slightly moving after each hit of his hand, he doesn’t stop instead continuing on not uttering an explanation causing you to let out a stressed sigh. "alright i guess you want to be annoying." you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
your hands focus on finish the braid, your hands interwinding his hair between one another as you approach the end, trying to finish it as fast as you possibly can, and when you do you sit back and glance at the finished product.
cench remains seated for a moment, filling his mouth, when he doesn't feel your hands on his hair he turns around to look towards you, eyes wide and hopeful, you beam.
"are we done?" he blinks and you nod your head, he exhales tired yet excitedly whilst you lean over, wrapping your arms around his shoulders pulling him into a hug from behind, he eases into your embrace.
"i'm tired." you yawn as you rest your hands for a short moment, "get some rest." you insists and you refuse, shaking you head.
as soon as you lean back he gets up from the floor, stretching for a short moment and you watch him do so. you take the chance to get up from the bed as well, standing beside him.
"wanna see how it looks?" you manage to say through a yawn, he only looks towards you with thankful eyes, pulling you into his arms.
you almost squeal at the sudden affection, his arms rest against your lower back as he holds you close, his eyes studying yours noticing how you pretend to wish to pull away from him.
"i asked you if you wanted to see your hair, not if you wanted to kiss me." you tell him and he tiredly laughs, arms still holding around onto you. "i don't care, why can't i be close with my girl?"
his head comes to teasingly rest against your shoulder and you giggle as you find a comfort in wrapping your arms over his own, you feel him pecker a few lips onto your skin and since your ticklish a few laughs manage escape through your lips.
"stop." you manage to say through your laughter a hand gently holding onto your head, but he only continues holding you close, you feel his lips form a grin against the skin of your neck.
as soon as he pulls apart you meet eye contact once again, you don't utter a word instead your smile lingers upon your lips and one mirrors upon his own. you lean in, your lips meeting his and he doesn't hesitate to kiss you back.
you kiss one another a passionate moment, enjoying the feeling. the sound of your lips against one another sounds throughout the silence and the comfort of your bedroom. you forget about everything, instead you're focused about spending this moment with the man who you truly love.
you pull away from the kiss when you feel it begin to grow a little too heated, feeling the tingles and sparks that flow throughout your body. playfully you push him away from you, his arms widen and his mouth drops jokingly confused yet enjoying the act.
"we need to stop there." you tell him warningly, it almost as if he knows the affect you have on him since he doesn't complain and you know that he knows.
"alright." he simply says.
nothing but love fills his eyes and it's almost as if you always catch yourself smiling whenever you're with him. "i love you." you say.
he remains quiet for a good moment, realising he's about to catch himself saying something he never thought he would, you watch him expectantly watching how his lips agape to utter the words, just when he's about to he buries his head into his hands.
"i love you too."
#cench#central cee#central cee imagines#central cee smut#central cee x reader#central cee x you#centralceeedit#central cee x y/n#central cee fluff
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HIHII hope you are doing well!!!
I have a request but if you're not comfortable writing it's completely fine too!!
Anyways~ can you write something with University professor geto x top student reader??? They have a lot of sexual tension and geto continuously targets the reader in his lectures only for her to storm into his office after a test in which he didn't give her the marks she deserved just so he could piss her off and eventually leading them to blow off some steam together hehe-
HEJSJSH ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU HAVE A GREAT REST OF THE DAY��💗
-��
I GOT THAT DUMB D*CK !
a/n: hi cherry 2! saying 2 because i already have another cherry anon, thank u for waiting for this btw sorry this took so long omggg!!! i wanna make it similar to the short blurb i did here, but ill leave out reader being a camgirl! a lot of lore talk, just a warning
wc: 8k (sigh ....)
warnings: so much lore lol sorry, no beta we die like men, age gap (32 / 24), professor!geto, fem!reader, geto is also a cam worker, masturbation (both f and m), toy use during f! masturbation (vibrator), fantasising, pet names, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, oral (m receiving, f receives briefly at the end), dumbification (ig?) face-fucking, deep-throating, spitting in mouth, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, cum eating, implied multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut
no one could really pinpoint the reason why professor geto had picked on you, called you out so much, and why you entertained the incessant questions. it was unbecoming of a prof., he knew, it was never smart to favour one person (negatively, in this case) in a room of bright students who could read between the lines. but he just feels himself so drawn to your furrowed eyebrows and words laced with venom, because at the end of the day, he can see that you aren’t all talk.
you challenge his views and you do it in a way that catches him off-guard. you propose insane arguments that you willingly would die at the grave just to find evidence for; or it could just be because he was staring too much at the way your mouth moved and your eyes expressed everything to pay attention to your words, finding that you were just too beautiful to be chasing a linguistics degree.
this was another thing: geto suguru could possibly have anyone he wanted. he was fine. shoulders pulled back in proper posture, hair either tied up fully or just halfway, and always, always wearing shirts with sleeves that reach his wrist. to that, everyone could see just how bulked the man was, top looking too tight all the time.
geto knew he was fine, too, because on top of (and before) being a professor, he found that he could get a good amount of money by just streaming — camera propped below his neck and obviously tight button-up shirt discarded to reveal his tattooed body, while he has his legs spread and the thirsty, horny comments flooding in on the platform. it’s been a norm by now, started from his uni days where he needed some extra money to support his fees and living necessities.
one year turned into two, two years turned into stagnancy during his third and fourth years (save for a few occasional streams), and up came a little funny graduation stream suggested by his best friend. geto had spent a good half ’n hour talking about his time in university and thanking his viewers, changing up the setting almost immediately by showing hard he was.
[uzum4kisl0ver]: YEAAAH we’re getting to the good stuff, thank u for feeding us so well these few years uzumaki-san!!
[minstash96]: Congrats on graduating Uzumaki-san!! I rmb joining during your third year and found out from everyone u were getting busier </3 but Im glad youre back again!!!
[g_bigdick_s]: fellas is it gay to support your best friend’s graduation jerking off stream
the flood of “yes”’s replying to gojo made the streamer laugh, thankful that his best friend had listened a little and at least changed gojobigdicksatoru to just his “G.S.” initials to avoid people finding his LinkedIn. from there, geto had gotten into the true nature of his stream easily, fishing out his cock to stroke and loving the sounds of tips coming in, the name of his alias Uzumaki continually commented. since then, it’s become a side hustle — finishing his masters, training to become a professor, it’s all natural to him, taking even further steps to make sure he isn’t found out.
exactly, he could have anyone he wanted — a fan from his streaming account, or one of satoru’s regular fwb’s but instead he finds himself drawn to someone else, you, the second year student in his bilingualism and multilingualism module that he has no trouble teaching despite his freshly employed status.
at the start of the week, the gods decided thought it would be funny to delay the campus bus that would take you to the english department for a consultation session with your professor. you couldn’t focus in lectures due to bad cramps, you were behind on your non-major related courses, the bad luck just seemed to seep into one day after another. you had woken up late, putting on a terrible outfit that no one really cared about, except your professor who just had a smirk on his face.
“if you notice, runes were created as they were spoken — spelt as they are said which almost look like ‘pictographs’,” prof. geto switches to the next slide with the runes and their meanings alongside a jumble of symbols that send the whole class into hysterics, “can anyone sound out the phonetics of these runes to me? hint: even though i said they look like pictographs, the first rune is definitely not an E.”
he was known for asking questions during lectures, pleased with anyone that would even try because he knew how quiet lecture theatres could get. he was exactly like that in university, too, letting satoru take all the attention due to the many unknown people in the same room. now, he found that asking the questions was a little entertaining, seeing the way students look back down at their laptops and avoid eye contact. but he doesn’t need to do anything and his body is already turnt towards you. he’s not even pointing physically, which he thinks he’s done a good job of restraining himself.
ᛊᛃᚨᚾᛖᛚ
“the words and names should be as they sound — so ‘s’ or ᛊ should translate into a ‘c’ since they didn’t have a C back then and it’s the closest sound to C. ᛃ can’t be ‘h’ because of the usage of H in hagl . . its pronunciation is different and plus, we’ll spell it how we say it, so maybe it’s ‘j’?” you mutter to yourself, an urge to answer the quickest, always. you aren’t sure where this streak came from, but you’ve been smart always, “sja . . it either can be chanel or channel since there’s a rule you can’t use the same rune twice in succession . .”
professor geto already knows you’d be the first to answer, raising your hand even without looking since you were still calculating the other four letters which you put together fairly quickly.
you take the safest route, “chanel, with one N.”
geto clicks his tongue and sucks in a breathe, “so close, miss (y/n), but it’s because i cheated a little on my part.” you can feel your blood boil and the grimaces of other students when he switches to the next slide and there’s a little grin on his face. it says — ‘there is no distinction between capital and small runes, nor can you use the same rune twice continually.’
“you are right, partially, but i did want to drive home the point,” which he’s sure you already know. “that words with two N’s or L’s or whatever, would only show up in the runic language as only one character.” your face morphs into something of annoyance and the grin on professor geto’s face only widens — that defiant, headstrong nature is something he loved, but the grin drops a little when he imagines something . . out of the classroom. his pants tighten.
you mirror him, clicking your tongue and reluctantly taking down the note in your documents before sinking into your chair — not even chō, you friend, could find the proper words to comfort you. you spend the rest of the lecture, sulking, unwillingly answering his incessant questions with a scowl on your face and a headache forming.
this never stops—
“miss (y/n)?” one-on-one meetings were the bane of your existence, but it was the only way to connect with your professors properly — here, geto calls you to talk about your latest essay where you were the last on the roster. by then, everyone has filed out with nobara waiting for you just outside the classroom.
“don’t have to call my name, i’m the only one here.” you mutter under your breath, and geto feels a little annoying today.
“what was that?”
“nothing—”
he hums, scooting his chair closer once you sit, and while you find the gesture a little weird, you’re overcome with just how good he smells and it only fuels your hatred more. it’s no fair that he’s so . .
“miss (y/n).” you sigh with an apology, frankly not ready to hear how he’d be attacking your essay. it was written on a rushed timeline, you didn’t cite your sources properly, you knew some criticism was warranted as much as you didn’t like to hear it from your professor’s mouth.
“. . you do know you can’t just rely on your brain, right?” geto speaks softly and you feel your heart flutter at his tone. he points to the places where you forget your in-text citations.
“but professor, information about syntax and phonetics just comes like second nature . .” you mumble, ignoring how he closes his eyes and hisses, “and all the sources on the internet say different things.”
“then just find a reliable one.”
you tsk, taking the paper from him and flipping to the next page, “well, i did one here.” the paper makes a sound when you press your finger into it, aware of how close you are. from here you can feel the heat radiating off his body, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together.
“too long ago, needs to be within five years.” geto’s lying through his teeth.
“no, it does not!” you pull back and look at him incredulously. ah, the feeling’s gone, “not in language related papers, at least!”
“but that claim was from the 2000’s, miss (y/n), for all we know it could’ve been resolved by then.”
“then why didn’t you say anything about chō’s scholar article from the 1990’s?” you’re standing up, now, furrowed eyebrows depicting the very thing you feel: confusion, agitation at being treated like this. given you weren’t in the best condition when you wrote this essay, but you still gave it your all.
“her argument was about the interconnectedness between the romance languages — yours,” he punctuates while leaning back in his chair. you don’t like how your eyes flit down to his lap, but you’re forced to look up when he stands up too, “is about the use of ciphers in comparison to an immature language developed on the internet that created in the 2019s. any scholar claim before that would be void.”
your blood boils just like that day. alas, he had a good point, but like always, the gentle slit of his eyes and the all-knowing smile didn’t match the bullying he was laying on you and you despise it.
even! even, as you notice how there’s probably less than a inch between your faces as you puff out your chest to look more intimidating and yet geto suguru towers over you. and even when your heart beats loudly in your ears, feeling his hot breath fan over your own face while you don’t miss how he licks his lips and glances down to yours not-so-secretly.
you swallow at the silence, until there’s the annoying notification of his Outlook cutting the tension and soon you’re snatching the essay from him, walking to where your bag is. although you want to let your anger overflow, all you say is a tame, “noted. thanks, prof” with a glare, eye twitching.
you made sure to slam the classroom door with shaky hands . .
. . but you’re not very good at capping your rage. “i swear to god! he better fucking check his mirror and admire himself because soon i’m going to beat him up so bad that everyone can’t recognise him.” geto’s lips turn up in a small smirk at your flared expression he just witnessed — he just loves your dirty mouth and he finds himself thinking of it more and more often.
chō only can tut, “so you find him attractive?”
“what? how the hell did you infer that from my rant?” you scoff, shoving her to the side, not aware that your whispered outburst is heard as he’s packing up. he simply enjoys looking at you walk away through the glass slit of the door, hips swaying unknowingly.
“bad news, guys,” geto, or rather Uzumaki, sighs on screen, adjusting so the lens of the camera rested just below his collarbones. easily, his chat fills up with a mixture of horny comments and genuine questions, chuckling to himself as he unbuttons his shirt. he feels more like a sinner at this point, suddenly flustered with the confession he’s about to make.
“i think i’ve taken quite a liking to someone,” geto hums, hands going to his trousers to palm his bulge. he had to get home immediately after that, cancelling his meetings for the day. with a single text to gojo, the white-haired man was excited to hear everything about this new person, thankful that his best friend will finally not be alone.
[g_bigdick_s]: TELL US! TELL US!!!! TELL US!
but professor geto is lost instantly, imagining you as he massages his erection. thinking about your anger transforming into pleasure, into obedience for him as he forces your mouth down on his cock. oh . . how’d your mouth and hands feel, how’d your pussy feel.
geto groans, already removing his dick from the constraints, and pumping it to full length. he doesn’t even talk much, only the endless comments and tips reminding him he was still on live. spitting on his hand, he wraps his hand around himself again, thumbing the tip and hoping it’d be your tongue swirling around it.
what would you look like on your knees, taking each inch of his cock down your throat? would he be able to wipe the defiance off your face? would he be able to fuck his smart student, dumb?
“you need a good destress, woman,” chō suggests over the phone, voice a bit uneven due to it being stuck in between her shoulder and ear, “go on camstar or something, i’m sure you’ll find something hot there.”
“chō, i am not going on a porn streaming website! i’ll very much settle for my smut fics, thank you.”
“boo, don’t you get bored? i get that normal adult industry videos are super inaccurate but . . when was the last time you’ve watched an unfiltered, unedited jerk off vid? that’s the hottest.”
you scoff, “yeah, like you would know, miss complain-whenever-you-get-dick-pics.”
“that’s because it’s unsolicited! plus all the men who send me pics have ugly dicks. if anything i’m more open to get unsolicited pussy pics rather than consensual dick pics at this point.” your friend nonchalantly says, spreading her fingers to look at her manicured nails, “but anyway, prof geto is on your ass too much lately. maybe he wants to get in your pants?”
you don’t recoil at the suggestion as much as you expect to and you’re puzzled at that — “please never say that again.” just as you’re saying this, you’re typing in camstar.org even though you told yourself not to but deep down, you know that you’ve been craving more than just twitter links and porn with plot stories. on the front page, you’re seeing a video thumbnail of a guy with a fairly big . . feature, countless tattoos lining his body while you can catch a faint glimpse of his long hair in the dark room — it’s the only one that draws you in, other streams merging into a blur.
chō’s voice fades off when you notice just how popular the stream is, cursor hovering over the title (“just a ramblefap, need to release some tension”) almost tempting you to click.
“okay, will get back to you,” succumbing to your needs, you shamelessly grab your vibrator just as she cheers into the phone. you can hear that’s my girl! on the other side as you stifle a smile, bidding a goodbye before you settle into bed. from there, you do what you always do: relax for a few, slow your breathing, get yourself wet a little—
click.
The stream you have attempted to view has ended a minute ago. We apologise for the inconvenience caused. View more livestreams below:
you shove the vibrator under your pillow and bury your head into it, screaming.
“i mentioned in yesterday’s lecture that Latin evolved from the dialects of the Italic peoples of ancient Italy, or Latium, a region in central western Italy. over time, Latin absorbed elements from other languages, such as Etruscan and Greek, and it became the main language of the western Mediterranean.” professor geto rambled on in classic geto fashion — it was his passion that made him so easy to listen to, as with the many enamoured girls with googly eyes and the guys who wish they could carry themselves the way geto did.
you’d say the same thing: his love for his subject of study made him attractive — charming even — as much as you didn’t want to admit to your friend, but you’d be more open with your attraction like everyone is if he wasn’t—
[9:52am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] so fucking annoying and cocky and picking on me all the time!!!!!! im soooo sick of him im so serious omfg ....
but today, he’s looking less at you and more at other students, or even marvelling at the terrible paint job of the classroom as he goes from slide to slide. he talks about the derivation in which French separates from Latin, borrowing similar spellings and meanings from the old language while separating the way they are spoken.
“French is the most divergent of the romance languages because of strong Gallic and Frankish influences. The Celtic Gauls spoke a language similar to Old Dutch but adopted Latin as the Romans invaded Gaul.” you don’t even have to look at him to get him thinking of lewd things, spiralling into his fantasies ever since last night. geto is a little fatigued, too, having lost sleep over his fucking student which he just can’t help bothering. excitement at having you in class before is now turning into dread with every week that passes, and this week is just one instance.
“uh— i-i know you guys aren’t well-versed in either, but with your knowledge of both languages,” geto pulls at his tie. he feels hot, “discuss with your tutorial groups, the differences between the two and list down examples. just come up with one difference, but preferably name a few instances.”
[10:01am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] wish u were here im so bored 😭😭 profs acting so weird today tho
[10:01am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] is he looking hot and bothered, nervous ??? like he wants to cry? im tellin you he wants you fr
of course she’d come out of her sickness-induced sleep just to bother you about him having the hots for you.
[10:02am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] you’re so ... i swear pls shut up he may want me but i do NOT want him
[10:03am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] not even while you were just ranting about how his side profile looked a little too good in lecture yesterday?? anyway i hope you’ll be able to get that nut tn 🙏🏼 that guy on camstar sounded hot asf
[10:04am, (y/n) -> chō 💟] ikr i cant believe i got cockblocked by a fuckin livestream ending 💀 thank you fr i need it atp
“any progress here?” he comes out behind you and you slam the phone so hard you give the both of you a scare while your other friends exchange giggles with each other. what you don’t know, is how his arm is positioned upon the back of your chair and his whole body hovers just beside yours. you’re threatened to look, but you know if you do, you’d be falling deeper into the pit that you promised yourself not to fall into.
“yup, we’re just discussing things about how in terms of grammar, French has conjugation but almost no declension. but— uh, it rather uses word order to express some of the intricacies that Latin expresses through word endings.”
you can see geto nod from your peripheral, “good. good answer, any examples to show me?”
your friends nod towards you since you’re usually the one with all the information about different languages. they aren’t foreign to the way geto keeps calling on you to answer him, too, so you shouldn’t have any problem with this, right?
wrong. you’re stuttering through your answer, turning your head finally and being met with the sight of prof geto looking down on you like a deer caught in headlights. you think that being in lecture theatres, sitting near to the back and your hatred in general has desensitised you to the beauty of your professor, because being under him like this makes your core pulse uncomfortably and your voice shaky.
“. . hm? what was that?”
“i was uhm— saying how— uh,” the way geto nods at you makes you more nervous, painting you as someone who someone who had all bark and no bite, but the other knows very well that you had a nasty bite. you’re smart and witty, pretty, hot as fuck, and if anything, it’s taking everything in geto not to bend you over and show you your place in this very classroom in front of everyone, too.
“little lady got nothin’ for me today?” geto purses his lips and lets his teasing side take over, an easy-going smile taking over his features that you just want to kiss and slap off at the same time. wait.
“i didn’t get enough sleep because i was too busy trying to rewrite the damn essay you said i had outdated and missing sources for,” you speak through gritted teeth, feeling a mixture of arousal and pure rage for the man hovering over you.
geto juts his lip out in a pout, face getting dangerously close to yours and challenging you. he just hopes your two friends won’t say anything, “well, darling, if you picked an easier topic to argue about, you wouldn’t be doing that, would you?”
“well, sorry i’m always trying to outdo myself. are you, professor geto? what with your boring suits and black and white slide designs?”
you click your tongue and turn back to your phone to pull up your chat with chō while geto takes a deep breath, desperately hoping the hard-on wouldn’t show through his slacks. your other two friends only giggle even more at the exchange, because for the rest of the class, professor geto is on edge, unable to teach coherently.
[11:17pm, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] YOU DID WHAAAAATTTTT...???? GIRL YOU SAID THAT???!!!!!!
[11:18pm, (y/n) -> chō 💟] bro what if i get expelled.. i shouldnt have but he was pissing me off so much... i did put an apology in the end tho
by then, you’ve already submitted your rewritten essay, putting in a short note at the end for your behaviour in class. although you don’t take it back, you’re still trying to play it safe especially with how much you paid to get into university. you scroll along camstar, bored out of your mind and hoping to find something as compelling as the inked guy from last week, but nothing really draws you in. until you’re refreshing the page, and just like the previous time, the popularity of that same bulking guy seems to push his video to the top.
and finally, before you’re clicking into the video, you check out his profile: in his early thirties, started this account when he was 24 and in university. you smack your lips at that — he’s been doing this for almost ten years? that’s dedication. in curiosity, you scroll down his account, seeing the progression of which this guy built up his figure and tattoos that litter his body. he’s kept the same format, camera showing his body chest down until you’re lazy to scroll more, a little disappointed in not being able to find any indication of his face.
you think that maybe you saw a glimpse of that wrist tattoo that matched the tattoo on your professor’s wrist, but you could just be imagining things.
“alright guys . .” the man on the screen huffs, clothes already discarded to get straight to the point, and you’re recording a small snippet of the same guy you told chō about. “had a rough day today.”
the onslaught of comments going i can make u feel better!!! Take ur anger out on me Uzumaki-san makes you sputter and laugh, sending that video first before you’re taking another. your attention is stolen for a moment, seeing chō react with emojis to your video message (“let’s see what emails i got today, huh?”), but the structure of sentences that the man speaks soon brings you out of jollity and into shock.
“how cute, an essay sent straight to my email.” geto wants to do anything but look at emails right now, but ever since he’s gotten your rewritten assignment, it’s all he’s wanted to check out if it wasn’t for the many meetings and errands he had to run today. “yadda yadda . . oh?”
“i’m sorry for today’s lesson,” purposely pausing to leave out his name, geto continues on, “i shouldn’t have reacted in that way no matter the situation.” a smirk forms on his face while your body fills with dread. in your panic, you pull up your own document whilst catching all of this on camera, tracking each word as the man on camstar.org continues to say out your apology word by word.
and then bit by bit, you’re making out how the man behind the camera might, just might be your linguistics professor. the broad shoulders, the jawline, the long hair, the manspread . .
but even with your heightened combination of excitement and revelation, you don’t click away, blindly sending the video to your friend and then shamefully digging under your pillow to grab your vibrator.
“teaching people is so difficult sometimes, guys,” he grunts, pulling down his underwear and revealing his already hard cock. he lets out a shaky sigh as he wraps a hand around his shaft, “you usually get the people who won’t do any work, the ones who are absent half the time — usually they go hand in hand.”
professor geto laughs and you twitch at the lovely sound. “but . . there’s this one girl . . in my classes— f-fuck.”
you’re entranced, watching your professor masturbate in front of thousands of people who possibly didn’t know a thing about this man while you try to get your jaw off the floor, “who is entirely different from these categories.”
“she’s smart,” geto groans out and you watch transfixed as he starts to pump himself, hips grinding up into his palm, “she’s so smart that i’d want to get to know her one day and just talk about anything.”
“s-she’s so fucking attractive, too, you guys won’t even— oh goddd . .” you feel like you’re being watched, so you’re careful with how you’re putting your vibrator to your core and once you start it, the moan that leaves you lines up with geto’s deeper groans. it turns you on so damn much.
with his head tilted back, he’s long gone as he moves his hands faster and faster, the slick noises of his pre-cum and spit mixing in together — geto only wishes he could act on his desires once the course was over, but knows you’ll probably be mortified at the prospect. at least here, he can imagine that it’s your mouth or cunt doing all the work.
“s-shitttt . .” the professor sounds out, hissing when he thumbs his tip and even more pre comes spilling out and while you watch, you’re hypnotised by the beautiful moans in its perfect cadence and the thickness of his cock. by now his chest is heaving and he’s holding onto his bedsheets so tight you wish it was your thighs.
“i want to fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head and get her dumb on my cock,” geto whines, hips fully bucking up now while you press your vibrator deeper into your clit. you’re left wondering how his mouth would feel, to shut him up by pressing him into your cunt until he can’t breathe, soak his stupid fucking suits, “want to hear her moan my name.”
you whimper at all the things professor geto swears he wants to do to you, grinding into your hand while he speeds up as well. he doesn’t speak, simply stroking himself as he thighs tense up and he squeezes his shaft with head full of visions of you in terribly lewd positions, making disgusting sounds, and all for him. it isn’t long before geto cums with a loud drawn out moan, shooting his cum onto his torso with a sigh before taking a sticky hand to his lips, licking it off — “i’d want to see my cum dripping out of her one day.”
that sends a chill down to your core, biting your pillow before you release softly all over your hand and vibrator; you spend the rest of the night watching professor geto’s other videos.
[12:32am, chō 💟 -> (y/n)] oh. OH..........
“i should’ve just taken an off-day today, i do not want to get back our results.” chō rubs at her eyes and temples, wanting anything to do with the return of test marks, but unfortunately it was the week after midterms and it was inevitable, “don’t need to ask you though, you’re probably not worried at all.”
“trust me, i am,” you bite the inside of your cheek. it’s been at least . . two weeks after that whole debacle, and despite your intense vents with your friend and the continuous picking on by prof. geto, nothing out of the blue was happening. except, maybe, your growing physical need for your professor and your simultaneous, increasing hatred for him.
“it’s only midterms — you don’t need to worry too much since it doesn’t contain a high percentage. what you should be focusing on are your finals. we’ll work on your shortcomings and mistakes here so you guys will do the best when the time comes.”
and when professor geto comes around to hand you your test, all you do is glare up through your lids, taking it from him before feeling your whole world crumble.
“a B+?!” your mouth gapes open at the blatant 65/100 mark that glares back at you. you know that you would’ve gotten anything but a 65, willing yourself to study harder and harder just to rub it in his pretty little face that you weren’t falling behind in his class. at this point it’s got to be personal, so soon, you’re packing up your things angrily with the intent to storm his office after your other classes.
it’s late in the afternoon when you finally finish your other tutorials on a short fuse, him clearly getting ready to head home by the darkness of his office when you shove your way through the door.
professor geto is sat in a laid-back position, tie hung on the hooks installed in the office and a few buttons are unbuttoned, revealing the very familiar tattoos you’ve become acquainted with.
“to who do i owe the pleasure?”
“cut the crap, prof.,” you scowl, using your foot to slam the office door close. despite the late nights being buried in your sheets, you won’t let yourself be treated like this, “i deserved anything but a 65 on midterms.”
geto tilts his head, sitting up and gesturing out to you; you realise he wants to see your test paper.
“ah!” with a finger, he makes a show of finding for your obvious mistakes which was minimal — but the way he marks obnoxiously tells you everything you need to know, “here. your comprehension of the similarities between Latin and Ancient Greek was too surface level, you didn’t explain why—”
“i. did!” you press down into the paper like the first time, leaning over his table and reading out the exact answer you wrote just a few days ago, “here, since your blind ass wants to act like i wasn’t answering the question.” you push yourself into his desk more, eyes levelled with his. you dare him to say something smart.
“well, your explanation of the six cases in Latin left out the locative, the last one, and there were some problems in the conjugation that the test asked of you.”
“bullshit. show me, if you’re so confident.”
professor geto knows he’s hit a dead-end. he was telling lies, full of it, but he’s enjoying every second of the anger that translates into your features, of the growl in your voice. he leans back further the more you close in on him.
“nothing, right? so tell me, do you hate me that much?”
geto simply laughs, crossing his arms and reminiscing on the many nights he’s spent doing anything but.
“quite the opposite, sweetheart.” the name catches you off-guard for a moment, but your sour face returns soon enough.
“then what the fuck do you think you’re doing, picking endlessly on a student?”
your professor sits forward, prompting you to cower back. you think it’d be good to bring up whatever he’s got going on on camstar.org but you’ll wait to a good moment before you say anything about your trump card, until geto snaps you out of your stupor by towering over you. the sheer difference makes you swallow.
“because i like seeing you flared up and angry and mad.” professor geto surprises you with each second, the nonchalance in which he said it, the stupid, attractive smirk on his face. now’s the time.
you compose yourself, thinking of the best way to phrase this, “you know you’re not entirely safe, either, you know. i could report you with the frequency in which you’re picking on me.”
you point a finger to his chest, thinking you could get him to lay off immediately with this as much as you were hoping he wouldn’t. the attention was unwarranted but not entirely . . terrible, “that wouldn’t look so good on your record, right, Uzumaki-san?”
you relish in the surprise that seeps into geto’s pretty features but it’s a short-lived victory when he goes back into a relaxed state, expression neutral — “so you know.”
“know . . what?” your professor pulls away and walks around his desk, finally in close proximity to you like he’s always wished.
“how badly i want you.” he whispers, but doesn’t go past that, rather letting you figure everything out for yourself.
“‘. . fuck her silly, fuck all of those stupid facts out of her head’, right?” you mumble softly, not admitting to even chō that you had watched that livestream over and over enough to memorise the few sentences. geto wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer, faces so close that you could just shut him up.
“go on.”
“you want me to go dumb on your cock,” professor geto mutters a correct which undeniably sends a thrill to your core.
“you want to hear me to moan your name.” “—want to hear her moan my name.”
a small smile spreads across his face (even if you left out the most important thing) as he finishes his own sentence with you, eyes clouded over with lust and your scent and he’s positive he can smell your soaked panties from here if he tries hard enough.
“that’s right.”
“sooo . .” by god, you fucking hated the man, but seeing someone stroke their cock to just the thought of you — how could you pass off such a good opportunity? “do you prefer professor geto, or suguru?”
geto groans at his first name usage, setting you on his desk and presses himself into you at the sound of papers flying to the floor, stationary falling to the ground. he can only hope no one walks in. he’s fully hard, loving how your legs naturally spread for him.
“whatever you want, baby.” and after, it’s all history with the way geto crashes his lips into yours, letting you pull at his jacket and shirt, practically ripping open the buttons to see his tattoos that you’re begging to see. slowly, he lets you trace them while he kisses down your neck, roughly pulling your sweater off of you. you have the cutest tits, packaged nicely in your bra which he has no trouble taking off. there’s a small sound that escapes his mouth when he unclasps your bra and your breasts come falling out.
“didn’t tell me you had such a nice pair . .” you giggle.
“yeah, like i would straight up tell my professor that.” with a hand, your hand follows the ink of his dragon that wraps around his body and torso, right down to his happy trail, “but i mean, you get the honour of seeing it now.”
with a squeeze to his bulge, you whisper, “maybe i’ll let you fuck them next time.”
geto lets out a little moan, “fucking minx,” before he latches his mouth onto your nipple, kneading the other greedily. a soft moan leaves your mouth as you knead his erection, a culmination of your combined groans in the quiet office. soon he’s giving attention to the other, a hand trailing down into your panties where he rubs your clit to test the waters, and he smiles into your skin at the way your hand falters and your head hangs forward.
“p-professor . .” it’s clear geto can’t wait, because he pushes a finger into you easily with how dripping wet you are, panties showing a dark patch of your juices. “s— so thick—”
“i know, baby, gotta stretch you out,” a soft pop! is heard as he comes off your nipple before he meets your lips in a sloppy kiss. he shoves his tongue into your mouth the moment he pushes a second finger in and he swallows your moans, letting you feel around his body to dig your nails in — it was just too damn much.
“so— suguru, your f-fingers, they’re so—” even with your protests, your hips grind up against his thick fingers that are pumping in and out of you, taking every last piece of fire in you as you succumb completely.
“what, miss (y/n)?” geto memorises the exact way all your previous blazing words are reduced to mere mewls and whimpers, alongside your pleas for more, more, more.
“i need something—” you whine when he pushes all the way inside, stretching your cunt so well as you clench around him like a vice and sucking him in, “i wanna make you feel good—”
you get at least a little resolve in the time it took you to say that, drunkenly unbuckling his belt before pulling his cock out. his tip is positively leaking, fingers curling instinctively in your pussy and your moans mingle together again.
“c’mon, prof, please?” geto tuts, reluctantly removing his fingers from your cunt which he wish he could spend more of his time in, but gives in to you as you switch positions, pushing him against his own desk. from there you’re going to your knees, marvelling at the cock you’ve watched on your very own screen.
“better than you imagined?”
you roll your eyes, “shut up or i’m blue-balling you.”
geto exhales forcefully, cut off when you put your mouth gently over his tip. you suckle on it like a pacifier, swirling your tongue around the mushroom head and looking up at him through your lashes; the sight is heavenly. the hair from his bun had fallen out, framing his pleasure-filled face, and the veins on his arms pop out so much from how harshly he’s grabbing the wood.
“f-fuck, baby . .” his words are lost once you start bobbing your head, encasing his shaft deep in your mouth as you suck and lick and slobber over his thick cock, using your hands to stroke the places you can’t reach. a choked moan weasels itself out of geto when one of your hands deviate to play with his balls, squeezing lightly at the sack while you continue to lick the underside of his length.
“take me like a slut, don’t you?” geto says breathlessly, fingers going through your hair to gather the strands into a makeshift ponytail, cradling your head to guide your mouth, but he soon starts to thrust into your waiting mouth.
“want me to fuck your dirty whore mouth?” your professor asks and you hate how much it turns you on as he brings you off to let you breathe for a moment. you stick out your tongue, big doe eyes just pleading to be used as your hands anchor themselves down to his belt loops.
“y—yes, prof., give me everything you got,” geto hums, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he taps your tongue with his tip, cock so heavy and thick it makes you whine a little before he shoves it in without warning. the moan that rumbles deep in your throat sends vibrations up his body and he starts a pace immediately.
“that’s it, that’s it—” you breathe through your nose as geto face fucks you, two hands covering the back of your head as he thrusts into your throat. your mouth’s just so damn warm and tight it has geto groaning non-stop while your eyes start to well up with tears. he uses you like a cocksleeve, abusing your throat each time his tip meets with it.
“fuuuckk— yes, yes, your throat’s so—” geto tilts his head back when he buries his cock in you, the deepest he’s ever been and your nose meets with his pubes, the smell of his musk and sweat making your eyes roll back in pleasure. suguru is all grunts before moving again, the gagging, gawking noises filling the small space.
“mmhm— mmf!” you moan around his length, trying your best to move your tongue along the underside of his cock. a hand goes down to quell the growing need of your cunt, slipping a finger or two in.
“dirty girl just can’t think straight when she has a— s-shit— cock in her, huh?”
you hum in agreement, eyes fluttering when you feel his tip twitch in your mouth and geto spills right into your throat with a long moan. your lids flutter close, taking as much cum as you can before coming off with a deep breath. strings of his cum and your saliva connect you to his cock, the lewdness of it all showing clearly in how sloppily you sucked your professor off.
“open.” and you show your tongue still full of his cum, taking the opportunity to lean down to let a ball of spit fall from his mouth. it drops painfully slow to your tongue, closing it only when you hear the rasp of swallow, “good girl.”
“think i’ve kept you waiting for too long, need to be in you,” geto brings you up by your upper arms, propping you up nicely onto his desk where you already start to leak into the wood, “do you want me to be in you?”
“only if you promise to stop picking on me, prof.,” you pout. really, a changed girl once you get some cock, huh?
“but you’re too cute not to bother, baby.” your pout deepens and geto feels a tug on his heart. oh, you were too adorable, knowing you’d kill him the next time he mentions this. he hopes they’ll be a next time.
“i mean it, suguru,” you murmur as he uses his tip to play with your juices, smearing it around your cunt. “treat me like a proper person.”
“can i at least treat you like a slut behind closed doors?”
you bit your lip, he’s asking for a next time, and who are you to reject him?
“whatever you want, professor,” you wiggle your hips along his cock, hoping for some friction which he grants to you with no problem, “use me. treat me like your cum dump.”
geto hisses at your tightness and your words as he bottoms out in you. he’s had your pussy once and already cannot get enough of you, moaning each time he moves in and out of your cunt. your walls hug him so snugly, sucking his cock in endlessly.
“baby, baby, baaaby . . your pussy’s so fuckin’— good—” he grunts into your ears, hips starting to thrust slowly into you. he swears he can see you in your tummy, asking you to look down, “look at how deep i am in you, sweetheart.”
you moan at just how big he was as you glance down, but you’re more focused on the way your pussy spreads for him, the cute veins on his length as he moves in you. you’re leaking so much that it’s effortlessly, the way he rams into you.
“sugu— suguru . . mmfuck—” geto groans upon feeling you rub your clit, your own hips bucking needily into his own as your juices start to drip down his balls. this was everything that he hoped would happen; your features morphed into pleasure, you descending into stupidity just from some dick, feeling your pussy, finally.
“hear yourself?” your professor proposes the question and you’re confused for a moment until he slows down and you whine at the sudden change, brought to attention just how soaking you were. the soft shlick, shlick, shlick sounds take your breath away, as with the translucent sheen of your juices coating his cock.
there, your professor resumes his pace, “hear how fuckin’ sloppy this pussy is for me. listen to her,” your senses are all overwhelmed: by how he hits all your sweet spots, the sweat on your back, your fast-beating heart and you let out a mangled whimper, “yesss . . that’s what i like to hear.”
geto smirks at how you can’t even answer, picking up his pace into a regular one. with his cock buried deep in you, you have no choice but to let your body move with his thrusts, jerking each time his balls meet your ass noisily.
“is this what the little lady needed? just some professor cock to get her to not be so damn uptight!”
“y—yessss . .” you’re delirious, “yesyesyes, suguru!” you squeal when he holds your legs up and pushes your legs into your chest, tongue lolling out at the deepness that he was in you.
“fucking slut,” geto mumbled, hips turning sloppy with fatigue taking over, but your cunt was just too good to stop, “where d’you want me to cum, baby?” he knows you’ll answer how he wants you to, especially after watching his livestream—
“i-inside— inside, pleaseplease,” the circles on your clit are messy, now, chasing your high more than ever, but your pussy is grasping onto him like a vice, prompting groans deep from his throat. “want your cum dripping out of me, prof—”
those words alone has geto shooting his load with a strangled grunt, switching to shallow, quick thrusts to pump you full of his cum. it comes out in hot, thick spurts, filling your insides more and more until it spills out the sides and you follow soon after, whole body convulsing from the intense orgasm you can’t stop shaking violently.
“take it— that’s it, attagirl,” he whines out, stroking his length to make sure you’re getting every last drop out of him, “take all my cum . .”
geto is sure he’s getting old by the way he feels lightheaded, having had to hold onto the edge of the table for a minute — but in that 60 seconds you’ve stumbled off the table and laid your chest over it, perking your ass up where your pussy continues to leak hot, white cum.
your professor takes one good look at your ass, hands going up to knead at them and spreads your cheeks. with his tongue, he eats his cum out of you, making your jerk at the sensitivity.
“oops, i’ve cleaned you up of my cum — guess i gotta give you a couple more loads,” geto props a leg up, eating you out, “it’s only right since my brightest student has suffered so much at my hands . .”
tagging @arminsumi @shidouryusm @suguruplsr @crysugu @slttygeto @suget @sonarspace @marimogf @hannzai <3 ok gn
#kinda hate how this turned out goodnight loooooool#luna u sending in that ask made me think of this song LMFAOOO and i rlly didnt know what title to use so i just... dumb dick i guess LMAOAO#asks#🍒 anon 2#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#getou suguru#geto smut#geto x reader#jjk geto#geto x you#getou smut#getou suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#geto suguru x reader#suguru smut#suguru geto smut#suguru geto x reader#jjk thirsts#jjk headcanons#jujutsu kaisen geto#geto suguru#getou x reader#suguru geto#getou x you#suguru x reader
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ma’am you mentioned slipping a guard a wad of cash for a quick closet fuck in your story so like…how often did prison toji have to bribe the guards? 😅
prison boyfriend toji series linked here <3
content: semi-public, intimidation, mentions of incarceration, facials
custodial wing at 11:30
that’s what he’d whispered to you before you parted during your day visit, hand reaching under the hem of your shirt to trace shapes into the curve of your spine.
you didn’t need to ask questions knowing how often the two of you pulled this off. if the state wouldn’t grant you two conjugal visits on account of you not being married.. then you’d just have to make your own.
getting started wasn’t a challenge in the slightest knowing entry-level guards melted like putty once a little stipend was involved. money was everything in this system, and toji had left you a lot of money.
once every two months was the deal. frequent enough that you’d both get your fill of each other outside supervised visits, but not so often as to draw suspicion.
naturally, you make a beeline to your destination as soon visiting hours come to a close, mumbling something about needing the bathroom to a clearly peeved officer at the front desk.
toji comes into view just at the end of the hall, facing away from you. you realize his body is obstructing another person as you you near, bits of their conversation floating in and out.
“you really should be in your cell fushiguro...”
“just wait till’ she gets here before you do something stupid.. christ.”
you pause just beside toji, peering over at the navy blue-clad stranger in front of you.
“where’s..” you trail off, eyes flitting between the two men. great, your regular officer wasn’t on duty today. a fucking warning might have been nice.
the new guard is probably half your boyfriend’s size—and age, not a firm bone in his body by the looks of it. if he did, you figure toji would already be in solitary for sneaking out of his cell. your shoulders relax at the realization. at least this guy wasn’t a threat.
the inmate shoots you a knowing smile, sly as ever despite the high-stakes situation. you quickly move to rustle through your pockets at the sight of his outstretched palm, placing a wad of cash in his hand.
“why don’t we give our pal a little gift, hm?” toji coos, holding the money up between two fingers and shaking it like a dog treat. “wanna give me an hour with my girl?”
the guard frowns, looking around cautiously.
“we’re not really supposed to take bribes…”
the fake smile on toji’s face falters. “fuck does that mean?” he says in disbelief.
“well honestly, it means that i’m going to have to report this.” the younger man says, reaching for his walkie-talkie to alert the rest of the security team.
“are you stupid?” toji seethes. sizing the smaller man up. regret instantly washes over the the guard’s face, eyes blowing impossibly wide as he’s backed up against the wall.
“no sir— I mean— i’m sorry!” a tattooed fist slams against the concrete, dangerously close to his face.
“i could kill you right now. could snap your neck and keep you in that closet over there,” he whispers, jutting his thumb behind him. you know there’s no real intent behind his words, toji simply wasn’t that cruel.
the paralyzed guard cowers at the threat, taking the two of you by surprise as a wet spot grows on the front of his pants. gross.
“you gonna piss your pants every time a real man speaks to you? huh?” he barks, laughing at the younger man’s misfortune.
“no no no please,” the guard babbles, motioning toward the closet. “i’ll keep watch i promise, i— i don’t even need the money i’m sorry.”
“good cause you weren’t getting it,” toji sneers, pocketing the cash before picking you up bridal style.
“that was mean,” you whisper, oddly impressed at the inmate’s intimidation skills.
“yeah? you like when i’m mean?” he mutters jokingly, hands already squeezing the curve of your ass from where his palms are holding your body up. the contact makes you shudder, sending bolts of electricity right to your core.
you loved seeing him like this, as sick as it was. possessive, short-tempered, commanding. it all made your knees weak.
you find yourself propped up against the door of the closet moments later, held up by his hands as he wastes no time, leaning in to mouth at the curve of your neck.
the way he maneuvers you without so much as a sigh only stokes the flames deep in your core. toji’s strength was something to behold, an absolute marvel.
the closet is dim, lit by a pull-string bulb older than the two of you combined. you’re so close that you don’t know where your body ends and his starts, making it seem like there’s not enough air for the both of you.
you reach down with one hand, keeping the other on his shoulder for balance. deft fingers work up the scratchy fabric of his brown uniform, exposing his abs with a hum.
fuck, he was getting bigger, muscles chiseling deeper and deeper as each day went by. the barest hint of black ink peeks just under the hem of his shirt, grabbing your attention for just a moment.
“lift it up angel,” he rasps, mouth still working at the thin skin of your collarbones. purple blood vessels bloom under his lips, the trail of hickeys growing larger by the minute.
the inmate helps you strip his upper half, lips detaching from your body with a sly smile.
“toji, oh my god,” you gasp, running a careful hand over the barely healed tattoo.
“didn’t want you to see till’ it was finished,” he explains, grinding the hard length of his cock against your clothed core.
toji hadn’t taken his shirt off the last two times you’d snuck off together, opting fuck you through three orgasms with his pants around his knees, showing off the barest hint of his happy trail.
you figured it was for the sake of saving time, a precautionary measure in case your situation was compromised. naturally, there was a much deeper reason behind it.
delicate swirled letters brand your name across his ribs, etched into tanned skin amid a background of black and grey mist. the skin around the edge is still pink and delicate. blushed by the spike of a needle over, and over, and over.
god.. how did he even get this done? and so well at that? the things he manages to achieve even while serving time never fail to blow you away.
you hadn’t even realized he’d stopped grinding into you, his palm just barely cradling your face.
“you okay?” he says it so gently, like you’ll break.
“it’s perfect,” you tell him, basking in the shy smile he gives you. scarred lips finally meet yours, setting you down on the floor of the closet to shimmy your skirt down. toji pulls away with an audible hum, tapping the inside of your calf to get you to open your legs wider.
the inmate wastes no time, hooking a thumb under the fabric covering your heat, and pulling your panties to the side. you feel his hulking body drop to a knee in the dim light, running thick hands up the soft skin of your calves before pressing a gentle kiss to your clit.
“beautiful,” he whispers, though the stars that dance across your vision keep you wondering if he’s talking about you, or your pussy.
and then your thoughts come to a screeching halt as a warm, dexterous tongue licks up the length of your slit. the noise he makes is obscene, desperate, groaning low in his chest as he tastes you for the first time in months.
you nearly forgot how good it feels to be taken like this, struggling to maintain your balance as toji laps at your hole, two hands settling on your knees should they decide to buckle.
“tastes so fucking good,”
he says it directly into your heat, shooting vibrations straight into your core. warm velvet sneaks up to lap at your sensitive bud, tracing hot, wet circles in the spot that matters most.
you peek down just enough to see him free his cock from his boxers. two fingers swipe through your heat, using your slick to ease the slide of his hand along his shaft.
it’s filthy, the way he’s always been so readily able to shift how he acts around you. cold, unforgiving hands turning into warm fingers that bring you nothing but pleasure.
you’re the only one who sees him like this— who will ever see him like this. on his knees in the back of a cramped closet, making love to your cunt like a man starved.
the feeling of your approaching high rips you from your thoughts, hands tangling into his mess of raven hair.
“gonna cum,” you whine, pushing at his forehead to get his face away from your clit. the tiniest bit of relief floods your core as he pulls away, his mouth and chin dripping with slick.
“turn around.”
you haven’t even fully pressed yourself against the door before the blunt head of his cock is sliding into your entrance, filling you to the brim in one fluid motion.
toji takes a second to palm at the flesh of your ass, humming in appreciation as you adjust to his size.
“please,” you groan, “please just fuck me toji, please.”
the inmate pauses, slipping a hand under the hem of your shirt to play with your tits.
“should i?” he whispers, groaning as you clench down on his length.
frustrated, you push your hips back into his shaft, swallowing him over and over while harsh pants ring out behind you. large hands squeeze around your waist to stall your movements, giving him space to rut into you like you need.
the feeling is seismic, explosive. sending you right over the edge and into the abyss as black streaks over your vision. you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good before, taking deep, thorough gulps of air as you’re humped and rutted into against the fragile wood of the closet door.
large fingers wrap around your wrist and pin your arm behind you as you reach down to toy with yourself.
“like this,” he tells you. the implications clear as day.
cum on his cock or don’t cum at all.
and cum you do, shuddering as you flood yourself between your legs. his pace doesn’t let up for a single second, bucking up into that special spot over and over.
“knees,” he commands, tone as urgent as ever. “fuck, get on your knees.”
you don’t have to be told twice, sinking to the floor to face him as he pulls out of you.
“open baby, open up for me.” the noise his hand makes while her jerks himself off is absolutely debilitating.
you tiredly rest your cheek just under the jut of his hip bone, pressing soft kisses under the far edge of his tattoo. the aftershocks of your high leave you breathless as thick spurts of seed cover the left half of your face.
toji takes you by the face and holds you in front of him, fingers squishing your lips into a pout as he paints your face with the last of his load.
“there we go, there we go, eat it for me,” he pants from above you, chest heaving from the force of his orgasm. you gather as much as you can with your tongue, letting him thumb the rest into your mouth.
“beautiful,” he says, letting you clean off his fingers with your tongue. and this time you’re sure that he’s talking about you, his girl. his everything.
taglist ! 🏷️
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#adah’s asks#prison bf! toji#prison bf!toji#prisoner bf toji#toji x reader smut#toji x fem reader#toji x fem reader smut#fushiguro toji x reader#jjk toji#toji headcanons#jujutsu kaisen toji#toji zenin#toji imagine#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#zenin toji#toji x reader#toji drabbles#toji#toji smut#jujustsu kaisen
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NERVOUSLY IN LOVE || mark lee
PAIRING: mark x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 5.2k
GENRE(S): smut, fluff, established relationship
SUMMARY: despite his very obvious sexual attraction towards you, your boyfriend keeps holding himself back from sleeping with you. OR the three times you want to fuck mark lee and the one time you do.
WARNINGS: SMUT [unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), praise, big dick mark, a little dumbification] mark is down bad
happy birthday @mrkis i hope you like this small gift <3 i love you so much bestie
You and Mark Lee are in love with each other.
That much is obvious to everyone around you. Ever since you started dating a few months back, you’ve been all over one another — holding hands, hugging and, on some occasions, even making out behind the university building in broad daylight.
This suits you just fine. You love seeing Mark’s cheeks tint pink when your hand wanders under his shirt, or when you’re all alone in his apartment and he has to bite his lip to not let out a moan as you reposition yourself in his lap.
Just like you’re doing right now.
“Y/N…” Mark’s voice is slightly strained as he grips your waist tighter, head falling back onto the couch. You’ve been sitting in his lap, with your thighs on either side of him, for at least half an hour now — first just hugging him, then kissing his jaw as he played with your hair, and now moving onto something more fun. Namely wriggling around in his lap under the disguise of having to readjust yourself.
“Mmm?” you hum absentmindedly, letting your lips fan over his neck. He shivers and you smile to yourself at the goosebumps forming on his skin.
He opens his mouth to say something, but you kiss him instead, swallowing up the moan he lets out when you not-so-subtly roll your hips against his. You and him have gone this far multiple times – made out and rubbed against each other until your panties are ruined and his cock is painfully hard – but you’ve never done anything past that. But with the way he’s growing hard from underneath you, you think that maybe today is the day.
You pull away from the kiss to bury your face in his neck and palm him through his jeans. He groans at that, hips bucking up involuntarily. The sound causes more wetness to pool between your legs and you rub against him – at least until you hear him say your name again, this time more seriously. You look up at his face, his lip pulled between his teeth and the slight panic in his eyes.
“Donghyuck and Renjun…” he finally says, tapping his fingers against your thigh. “They’re coming home soon.”
You tilt your head to the side, brows furrowing. “I know.”
“No, like, seriously, they’ll be here soon.”
Mark’s shaky voice catches you off guard, because he seems genuinely stressed. His cheeks are flushed, and he’s gripping your thighs like his life depends on it. A big contrast to the way his hard cock is poking your thigh.
“You said they’re coming eight,” you pout down on him, fiddling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants. “It’s only seven.”
“Yeah, but like, sometimes they come earlier and I don’t want them to see us like this, ’cause, you know–”
“Alright,” You raise an eyebrow at the way he swallows hard, eyes looking everywhere but at you, but listen to him nevertheless. “Okay.”
He sighs in what sounds like relief as you climb off his lap and plop onto the couch by his side. It’s weird, how he’s acting, you think, but if he’s really just scared of being caught then you suppose it won’t kill you to wait a little longer to have him. You’ve already waited four months, after all.
“Wanna watch a movie?” He asks, a spark of guilt in his eyes. You nod, cuddling into his side with a soft smile.
“Sure.”
Still, his bobbing thigh makes you wonder whether there’s something more to this whole thing than he lets on.
—
The second time you try fucking Mark Lee is a week later.
It’s not like you’re obsessed or anything, but the makeout sessions that keep getting longer and longer are driving you absolutely insane, and so it’s only natural that when you come home to find him sprawled out on the couch, looking so irresistible, you really want him to fuck you. Even if he’s all sweaty from the dance practice he attended earlier. Or maybe especially if he’s sweaty from that practice.
“Hey,” you greet him upon entering the living room. “Did you just get back?”
He looks up at you, corners of his eyes creasing as he grins. His eyes seem a little tired, but they light up in excitement nevertheless. “Yeah, they let me off earlier today.”
“That’s nice,” you say. “You always come home so tired. You should rest more.”
“And you should come cuddle me, I’m cold.”
You smile at his grabby hands, taking off your coat to go join him on the couch. His hair is littered with sweat, so there’s no way he’s actually cold, but you enjoy the feeling of his arms wrapping around your middle as he pulls you close, so you let it slide. Especially since you’ve been dying to see him all day, too.
He nuzzles into your neck when you thread your fingers through his hair, a soft sigh meeting the skin of your throat as he leans into your touch. You like being this close to him — one of his thighs between your legs and his hands resting on your waist, playing with the hem of your shirt. Unsure of whether or not to slip under the fabric and touch your bare skin. You wish he’d do that, but he’s shy — always has been — and so you wait patiently, gently massaging his scalp with your fingers.
“I missed you today,” he sighs as you tug at his hair softly. “I always miss you.”
“I missed you, too, Markie.”
He smiles and presses his lips against your neck in a featherlight kiss that forms goosebumps on your skin. You don’t pull away, and so he kisses you again — this time fully resting his mouth on your skin, tongue swiping over it and teeth scraping against it. It makes your eyes flutter shut, head instinctively leaning back to grant him better access.
He takes his time and you let him, feeling pressure build up in your lower stomach as you wonder whether this will result in him dragging you to the bedroom. You hope it will, and so does the throb forming between your legs.
Mark leaves a trail of kisses down your neck, hands slowly making their way under your shirt, causing you to smile. Subconsciously, you lift your hips off the couch so your clothed pussy can rub against the slowly growing bulge in his pants, and a small whine escapes past your lips. Mark groans at that, the sound turning into a soft moan when you tug at his hair. Breathing heavily, he ruts against you, fingers digging into the flesh on your hips.
“Mark…” you moan into his ear.
The way he bites down on your shoulder to muffle the noises coming out of his mouth makes you smile hazily. This is it, you think, there’s no way he’ll walk away without getting his dick wet now. You know him well enough to understand just from the way he’s breathing onto your neck that he’s about to completely lose control.
And you want him to. So badly that you rub your soaked panties over his thigh to get some friction and urge him back into action.
And it works for a while — his moans mixed with yours as he grabs at your thighs and rubs against you frantically. You meet him halfway, strengthening the groans leaving his mouth. It feels good, so good you swear you could’ve cum from just this, but you want him – all of him – and so you halt your needy movements so you can bring your hands to the waistband of his pants.
But before you can even do anything, Mark’s hand grabs your wrist, making you look up in surprise.
“You know what, I actually have an assignment I need to finish.”
You blink once, then twice, and a couple more times until you register his words. “What?
“I just remembered, sorry.” He looks to the left, nibbling on his bottom lip. You can tell he’s lying, but why? You furrow your brows, but Mark still looks somewhere else than your face, like he’s afraid to meet your gaze. “It’s due tomorrow, so I really should finish it.”
He finally looks at you, hesitation in his eyes as he untangles himself from you and rises up from his seat. The bulge in his pants is still more than obvious, hair a mess, and eyes wide. Still, he runs a hand through the locks to fix them a little and clears his throat, as if to signalize he’s about to leave.
“But what about…” you trail off, eyes moving down to look at his dick poking through his sweats and then trailing back up again. “Don’t you want me to help you out?”
“It’s fine, I’ll just… Take care of it myself.”
“Are you sure?”
He gulps, nodding, and you let him leave with a small smile sent his way, even though you’re confused and aroused to no end.
Once he’s gone to his room, you fall back onto the couch, sighing. None of this makes any sense. He’s obviously horny, and the two of you have been dating for months already, showing intimacy in so many ways. So why is he so hesitant when it comes to fucking you?
Is he insecure? No way. You’ve showered with him and there’s absolutely nothing about him he should be ashamed of. If anything, he should be dying to show off ever since you told him you think his cock is big.
It’s obvious he wants this just as much as you do, so what the fuck is going on?
—
Twenty three hours and seventeen minutes later, you decide it’s time to finally get to the bottom of this.
It’s Saturday, and only a few hours ago Renjun and Hyuck went on some sort of trip together, announcing they’ll be away the whole weekend. Which grants you an amazing opportunity to talk to Mark. (And preferably fuck him, too, but that comes second. That’s what you repeat in your head as you walk into his room, finding him sprawled out on the bed. Looking really fuckable, you think, but that’s just a simple observation).
“Renjun and Hyuck just left,” you tell him, closing the door behind you as you walk over to the bed.
He grins, putting his arm around you and pulling you close. “Finally.”
You have to say you agree — though you’re not so sure whether the reasons for your contentments are the same. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter when you lie your head on Mark’s shoulder and he puts on one of those romance movies you once told him you wanted to watch. He smells like he’s fresh out the shower and his arms are warm around your waist, fingers circling the skin on your hip slowly.
The movie is good, and soon, you forget all about your plans of talking to Mark. To your defense, he is really distracting. With his soft laugh that resonates through the room whenever something funny comes up on the screen, and his intoxicating scent, it’s easy to lose all sense of reality. You cuddle into his side and your fingers tap against his thigh — first to the tune of the movie, later just because you like feeling his skin under your fingertips.
It’s not before your fingers mindlessly squeeze his thigh when you jump at some point during the movie that Mark gives a sign of discomfort, groaning quietly.
“You okay?” you ask immediately, worried.
He nods. “Yeah, just a little stale from practice.”
You frown. When is this boy not overworked? Biting your lip, you rise from your spot on the bed, earning a confused look from Mark. You don’t say anything, just climb to sit on your knees behind him and place your hands on his shoulders. He turns his head to look at you, lips adorably pressed out in a pout.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you a massage. Just relax.”
He is, in fact, very tense, so it takes you some time to figure out where to press to relieve him of the tension, but once you do, he leans into your touch, groaning in satisfaction. You smile a little to yourself when he turns his head back to the TV, letting you do yours. It’s not like you’re a professional or anything, but the soft groans and whines he lets out when you dig your fingers into his muscles make you believe you might actually be pretty good at this.
“Does it feel good?”
Mark hums in agreement, and in return, you press a little harder on his shoulders. He groans and throws his head back to rest on your chest, something turning in your stomach when you feel his weight on your tits. Suddenly you’re very aware of him and his presence, and maybe it translates to your movements, because it has Mark turning around to face you.
“What are you thinking about?”
“You,” you tell him truthfully. “You look really handsome today.”
“Only today?”
You roll your eyes as he pulls you into his lap, pouting.
“Always,” you admit finally, giving him a short kiss.
Or, at least it’s supposed to be a short kiss, but Mark decides to grab your cheeks and pull you flush against him. His lips are soft against your own, his warm tongue slipping inside your mouth when you open it to let out a small moan. He smiles into the kiss, hands caressing your waist, and so do you.
You try your best to ignore the slowly growing bulge in his pants when you reposition yourself in his lap, you really do, but when you move your leg just a little and he moans into your mouth, you can’t. And so you pull away from the kiss, heart thumping in your chest at the sight of his lips swollen and cheeks warm.
“You know, I was thinking,” you draw small circles on his shoulder. “Since Hyuck and Renjun are away and we have the apartment to ourselves…”
You trail off, a little embarrassed, and watch his face intently. His gaze drops down to your body resting on his — first your legs, bare where your shorts have slid up, then up to your cleavage where it rests for a little longer than usual.
He clears his throat. “Uh, actually, I have this paper–”
It doesn’t sound convincing at all, and so you cut him off.
“Mark.” you say and he responds with a small yeah? that has you sighing. “We need to talk about this.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but decides against it, instead resting his head against the headboard on his bed, looking up at you in defeat.
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
You wonder whether you should get off his lap, but his hands don’t move from their spot on your waist, so you stay. Your fingers rest on his shoulders, just barely grazing his neck as you look at him.
“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, a little hesitantly. Maybe you shouldn’t be bringing this up? But from the way Mark’s urging you to continue talking with his gaze, you decide it’s better to just spit it out. “Do you not… Do you not wanna sleep with me?”
His expression changes momentarily — brows furrowing and mouth falling open.
“What? No! I mean, yes,” he groans at the way he’s stumbling over his words, one of his hands leaving your skin so he can rub the back of his neck nervously. “I mean, I want to fuck you.”
Your breath catches in your throat at his words. It’s not like Mark’s a saint or anything, but you’ve never heard him saying something like that so directly. Something stirs up in your stomach and stays there no matter how much you wish it’d disappear. And you do wish it would dissappear because right now you’re supposed to be having a serious conversation with Mark, not getting turned on by him saying he wants to fuck you.
“Jesus christ, that sounded so bad,” Mark groans and you giggle.
“I don’t think it did,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the part about his words having an embarrassingly strong effect on you. “But if that’s not the problem, then what is?”
“It’s just like,” he sighs, looking for the right words, and his hands squeeze your waist a little tighter.
You wish he wouldn’t be so focused on what he’s about to say, because in that concentration, he pays no attention to his own fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, lifting it up an inch or two so he can touch your bare skin. Which again is making you lose focus.
Thankfully, he brings you back to reality five seconds later as he clears his throat, looking to the side.
“I just… You’re so perfect and hot and I’m scared that if I do fuck you, I’m gonna like, fucking lose it. And just screw everything up.”
You stay silent for a moment, gazing down on him as his fingers move higher up your shirt. You’re not sure whether he’s doing it on purpose or not, but it’s distracting nevertheless.
“So what you’re saying is…” you furrow your brows. “You’re scared that you’ll shoot your load too quickly?”
“When you put it like that, it sounds embarrassing,” Mark groans, burying his head in the crook of your neck. His breath tickles your skin and you giggle softly, leaning into his touch. “But yes.”
You breathe out in something resembling relief. Thank god this is it. You were so worried something serious was going on, all the while he was stressing about cumming too fast. Why he’d even think you care about that, you don’t know. It’s so ridiculous you start laughing, earning yourself a slap on the thigh by Mark.
“What are you laughing at?”
“You,” you poke his reddening cheeks. “You seriously think I care about how long you last?”
He thinks for a while, then tries, “Yeah?”
You shake your head with a smile.
“Well, I don’t. It’s kind of mean to deprive me of seeing your dick just because of that, don’t you think?”
You watch as heat flows to Mark’s cheeks, his hands grabbing your thighs tightly. “I-it is?”
“Mhm,” you lean forward to press your lips against his neck ever so slightly. “Very mean.”
Mark feels himself twitch in his pants and he hopes to god you don’t feel it from where you’re seated in his lap. Maybe it’s a stupid wish, because he doubts anything can go unnoticed when two people are at such a close proximity, but he decides to ignore it, instead pulling you even closer, hands pushing your shorts up to reveal your upper thighs. He bites his lip, squeezing your legs so you rub against him when he rolls his hips into yours.
“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, then,” his voice is hoarse in your ear and you clench around nothing, walls fluttering in excitement.
You nod eagerly and he smiles, hands finding their way to your waist again so he can pull your shirt over your head. The rest of your clothes quickly follow, leaving you completely naked in his lap, goosebumps forming on your skin as his eyes rake over your body.
He tongues his cheek subconsciously, hands sliding up your body painfully slowly — first running over your thighs, then hips and stomach, until they reach your tits. You hold back a moan when he runs his thumb over your nipple before pinching it softly, watching as your legs rub together at the sensation. Desperately, you push your chest out against his hand, letting out a satisfied sigh when he wraps his hand around your breast, squeezing it.
“Fuck, Mark,” you say as one of his hands push down on your hips, pressing your leaking pussy down on his clothed cock. “Please do something.”
“So needy,” he muses, and you whimper when he grabs your waist and lies you down on the bed so your back is pressed against the mattress.
He’s still fully clothed, you realize, but you don’t really get to do anything about it before he ruts his hips against you, his sweats rubbing against your cunt and spreading your arousal across it. You hear him groan softly, and then you feel his finger graze your clit ever so slightly, making your whole body jolt in surprise. He chuckles, spreading your legs and watching as your breath turns uneven when he rubs your clit and runs his fingers through your folds leisurely.
“So fucking wet,” he clicks his tongue. “Is it all for me, baby?”
“Yes, just for you,” you breathe out, bucking your hips up into his hand. “Please touch me, Markie, please.”
He groans, and has to close his eyes not to cum right then and there, from the sight of you sprawled out on the bed, begging him for more. This is going to be a lot harder than he thought. But he’s got something to prove, and to do that, he can’t exactly cum in his pants. So he takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again.
You buck your hips again, and this time, he listens to you, starting to rub his finger against your clit. He smiles, using his other hands to play with your tits, squeezing them as he pleases. You feel so vulnerable, so on display, but the way he’s playing with you only serves to intensify the throb between your legs. A small whimper leaves your mouth when he moves his fingers from your clit to slip inside of you with ease, your walls stretching around them.
“Feel nice?” he asks, and you only nod, spreading your legs wider.
He pushes his fingers in and out of you like it’s something he’s done a million times before, lewd sounds of his movements filling the room. You can only try to muffle your moans and fail miserably, letting whimpers of his name leave your mouth.
Mark must like that, because not even a moment later, he’s leaning down between your legs and using the hands that were fondling with your tits to hold you down against the mattress. You almost feel like crying when his tongue touches your clit, his digits rubbing all the right places inside of you. He sucks and licks your pussy, fingers curling to hit that one spot that makes you grab at his hair and tug.
Your reaction only makes him groan into your pussy, the vibrations making your legs try to close around his head. But he keeps them wide open, sucking on your clit, repeatedly hitting the right spots.
“Yeah? You like this?” he pulls away to ask you after a particularly loud moan of his name.
“Y-yes,” you whimper out, tears pricking your eyes at how he’s no longer touching you. “Don’t stop, Markie, please.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mumbles into your cunt before diving back in, finding the spot that makes your toes curl immediately.
The tension in your lower stomach is building up, the whimpers that leave your lips sounding more and more broken. Mark senses you’re close from the way your hips stutter in their way to buck up into his face, and adds a third finger to fill you up. You clench around him as the knot inside you comes untied, your legs shaking as he licks and sucks on your sensitive clit, fucking you through the orgasm with his fingers deep in your pussy.
You can only whimper as you come down from your high, tears streaming down your cheeks when Mark licks off all your arousal. Smile on his face and cock poking through his sweats, he sits up and takes you into his arms, letting you climb onto his lap again.
“Was it good, baby?” he asks you when you’re seated, like he doesn’t see the way your thighs are shaking.
“Yes,” you tell him and press your lips against his.
He kisses you back right away, pulling you flush against his chest. You can taste yourself on his tongue, but you don’t really mind, instead focusing on keeping him as close as possible. Your hips roll into his on their own, your cunt throbbing in need for him again the moment you feel his hard cock pressed against you. He sighs into your mouth at the slight relief, and you slide your hand down to palm him through his sweats.
You’re both content with that for a while — making out with your hand pressing against his cock. But after a while, when the throb between your legs is starting to become unbearable, you pull away from the kiss to untie his sweatpants and slide them down along with his boxers to pool down by his ankles. He exhales at that, cock standing proudly against his stomach when you wrap your hand around it.
“Can I…” you look at him, squeezing your fingers around him so hips buck upwards and he lets out a soft moan. “Can I ride you?”
His mouth falls slightly open, but he closes it again as fast as he can gather his thoughts. It’s admittedly a little hard with your hand wrapped around his cock, but he manages to look a little less flustered and gather the courage to press the palm of his hand to your clit.
“Baby wants to ride my cock?”
You can only manage a mewl and a nod of your head, but thankfully Mark doesn’t ask for a verbal response. He lifts your hips a little, positioning the tip of his cock at your entrance and you whine at him when he spends too much time coating his dick with your slick. He only smiles apologetically at you, squeezing your hip as he pushes you down on his cock.
He’s only halfway in when you grip his shoulders, whimpering.
“You okay?” he asks worriedly, stopping to check on you.
“S-so big…”
You feel him twitch from where he’s halfway buried in your cunt, and it makes your walls flutter around him. It’s good, but you need more, and so you wiggle your hips, try to readjust yourself to fit all of him inside. Mark’s patient with you, hands busy fiddling with your tits, fingertips ghosting over your nipples and eyelids heavy.
You have to bite your lip to muffle the cry threatening to escape your mouth when you finally sink down on his cock fully. He’s big — so big it makes your head spin, pussy clenching around him and your nails digging into his arms.
“Fuck,” Mark groans, leaning his head against the headboard. “I’m so in love with you, you know that?”
“I’m in love with you, too,” you giggle, but your laughter turns into a moan when Mark thrusts up into your cunt without warning.
He looks at you expectantly and so you tighten your grip on his shoulders, lifting your hips before sinking down on him again. It feels so good, and so you do it again and again, until you’re bouncing on his cock with your tits in his face. He starts pressing kisses against your nipples, and it only spurs you on further, your thighs lifting you off of him then letting you slam your hips against his.
You feel so full, fucking yourself on his cock like this, and soon all you can do is push your chest out against his lips and moan his name. God, you’re glad Renjun and Donghyuck aren’t here, because you wouldn’t have been able to keep quiet even if you wanted with the way Mark’s dick is hitting all the right spots with every bounce of your hips.
But even if you love how it feels, your legs were already shaking after your first orgasm, and now that you feel your second one approaching, the burn in your thighs is much more apparent. You try your best, you really do, but no matter how hungry you are for his cock, you’re forced to slow down when your thighs threaten to give out from underneath you.
“Come on, you wanted to ride me, right?” Mark coos at your whines, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Where did your eagerness go, baby?”
“But I’m tired, Markie,” you whimper, feeling so upset you almost want to cry. “Please. Need your cock.”
And who is he to deny you what you want when you’re asking so nicely?
You outright scream his name when he grabs your hips and rolls them into his own. He starts off slow, but even when he’s careful, his cock reaches places deep inside you and makes your eyes roll to the back of your head from the fullness. Mark doesn’t seem to mind, though, his dick twitching inside of you when he makes the mistake of looking at your fucked out expression. Proving to you that he can last long is being pushed further and further to the back of his mind, though, because with how well you’re taking him, he doesn’t think he can hold up much longer.
“Markie,” your head falls to the crook of his neck when he starts thrusting into you from below, your cries muffled by his skin. “Feels so good, Markie.”
“I know, baby, I know.”
His thrusts are deep and calculated, and you swear you can feel him in your stomach at some point. It’s so good you wish he’d never stop, but the coil in your stomach is tightening, a sense of rapture approaching, and so all you can do is cling onto him for dear life as he fucks you on his cock. He’s close too, twitching inside of you while he brings his fingers to rub sloppy circles on your puffy clit.
Desperate to reach your high, you start bouncing up and down again, your slick forming a ring of white around the base of his cock as your cunt clenches around him repeatedly.
You cum first, with his fingers on your clit and his lips sucking marks into your neck, your whole body shaking as he fucks you through it only reach his high a few seconds later. He groans against your throat, a soft whine of your name, and then he’s shooting his cum deep inside of you as his hands tremble around your waist.
It takes a moment for both of you to regain your steady breathing, and when you do, Mark pulls out of you and helps you lie down on the mattress. You pull him in for a hug, which he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around you, allowing you to bathe in his scent.
For a while, you just lie there quietly, wrapped up in each other’s limbs. It’s comfortable, just like it always is with Mark.
“You were wrong,” you say finally, breaking the silence.
He furrows his brows, looking down on you. “Wrong about what?”
“About not lasting long enough,” you poke his chest. “I’m pretty sure it was long enough if my whole body is sore.”
You see Mark’s cheeks tint pink for a moment before he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck, hiding.
“Aw, are you shy?” you laugh and he pulls away to send you a stern look.
“Shut up, Y/N.”
And then he pulls you in for a kiss.
THANK YOU TO @wuahae FOR THE IDEA FOR THIS FIC ILY
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𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙨
[ gn!reader ] "practice it, even once a week," it even works with sleep—especially you have something motivating you. based off of this classic reddit post. wc: 1521
AN: not at all proofread my apologies lol
There have been a couple of changes in your life since the first month that Jason moved in with you.
For one, the little trinkets that were scattered everywhere seemed to be a little more neater, a little more lined up. You’ll find that your small figures were playing out a scene. You don’t know why they’re like that, but Jason seems to know.
Your apartment’s been plenty more storage-efficient. This was largely to help Jason store his expansive collection of books, but it helped you, too. The drawers, shelves, and cabinets the two of you have thrifted and renovated together make it seem more to both of your liking—rather than it just being yours.
Above these small things, though, you two seem to always never have enough time with each other, even after the move.
Needless to say, time isn’t always in your favor when you’re vigilant or with the Red Hood. Date nights are suddenly postponed or canceled, patrols keep him until the early hours of the morning, and—at worst—missions have you two apart from one another for weeks, maybe even months.
This makes you two take pleasure in the small things. Whatever little thing you two can keep to yourselves, whatever fragment of time is offered to you two, you will selfishly hold onto. It's the only thing you can ever hold onto.
That’s why you always hold onto Saturdays. You can wake up as late as you want and still know that he’s probably there. You’d find him cleaning his guns, cozied on the couch reading a book, watching a cheesy romcom, or cooking you breakfast. That’s how it's always been when you spent time at each other’s apartments, and the same thing has happened until now.
That’s your first thought as you wake—or, well first few thoughts. Checking the time on your phone, you see it’s 11 AM. Earlier than your usual time of waking, but you should still probably get up.
There isn’t much noise ringing through your ears, save for a few footsteps you heard through the ajar room of your bedroom. Still a little drowsy, you made your way to the bathroom to tidy yourself up.
After rinsing your face with soap and getting the grime out of the crevices of your skin, you grabbed your toothbrush and pumped your toothpaste on it. As you brushed your teeth, though, your mind better register a faint humming—no, singing—from down the hallway.
Well, it can’t be anyone else, no?
After freshening yourself up, you go to your living room only to be greeted by tranced Jason—fixated on his slightly worn copy of All The Lovers in the Night. There’s some old dad rock music playing softly by him. You stand there, leaning against the edge of the hallway, before your presence is acknowledged.
“Good morning,” he greeted, using a random receipt he had to bookmark his page before the book aside. “You’re up early.”
“I know.” You hummed, finding a place beside him on the couch and giving him a good morning kiss on the cheek.
You find him smiling at the action, ruffling your hair and pulling you closer by the waist. “Are you up for any particular reason? Miss me?”
“Mmh, sure.” You grab his coffee perched on the table and take a sip. “Ew.”
He laughs. “What do you mean ‘ew’? Baby, that’s always how I’ve made my coffee.”
“I know, I know,” you rolled your eyes. “I thought that was gonna be the new three-in-one packet we got.”
“I don’t like three-in-one,” he hums. “Or at least I’m not in the mood for it.”
“Guess I’ll have to brew a cup for myself. I really wanna try it out.”
“Can I have a sip?” He asked, leaning into your shoulder.
“No.” You half-jokingly replied, snaking your hand up his hair to ruffle it.
“Come on.”
“Let’s see.”
And so that’s how Saturdays would go for you two. Jason would usually start his day at 7, 6, and sometimes even 5 AM, depending on how hectic his workload was. He’d freshen up, brew some coffee, and then usually get to his work.
If he did work, he always took a short breather between 10 to 11, usually spending the time to read. If he didn’t, he’d spend the morning cleaning the apartment or making breakfast.
You find yourself stirring awake. What time is it? It feels too early to be up right now.
You check the time on your phone. 10:42. Never mind.
You stretched out, basking in the sun that escapes through the fabric and small gaps of the translucent curtains. You blink a few times before deciding it's time to get up and freshen up. Grabbing a change of clothes, you head to your bathroom.
As you continued your morning routine, you could hear music ringing softly throughout the apartment. Along with that, you hear Jason singing along to it. With that, you open the door a little wider while you brush your teeth.
Before you can even process that your feet are carrying you outside the bathroom, Jason’s already greeting your presence in the dining area. “Good morning,” You wave in return. “You want anything for breakfast?”
You shake your head in reply and find your place beside him by the table, reading a book. You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to follow whatever he’s reading. The fast reader he is, he flips the page before you can even get a full sentence in.
In the corner of his eye, he can still see how drowsy you were. He checks in. “Are you okay?”
“Mhm,” you hummed. “Still a little sleepy.”
“You know, you can still go to bed if you want. I’m not sure why you’re up earlier than usual.” He pouted, craning his head to look at you. “You’re not pushing yourself for whatever reason, right?”
“No, I just…woke up,” you reply dryly. “Like I woke up and thought, ‘might as well,’ you know?”
“Okay, okay,” he smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead. “You want a coffee?”
“Mmm, sure.”
“Alright,” he nods, kissing your forehead before getting up to heat up some water. “The three-in-one?”
“Yes, please.”
Maybe it's your way of saying that you miss him. Between the night patrols and days-to-months-long missions that he goes on, you find yourself waking up a little earlier. 11 AM turns into 10 AM turns into even 9 and 8 AM on the weekends.
It’s 7:51 AM. Last night may have been hectic, but you got some sleep in. A few weeks ago, you would’ve slept in and woke up at 1 PM, but god doesn’t grant you enough time to hit your napping time and spending-time-with-Jason quotas. You have to sacrifice one, and your body knows which one you’re choosing.
“Morning, babe,” Jason greets from the kitchen, cooking up a breakfast for the two of you.
He doesn’t tease you any more about waking up so early. In fact, he doesn’t even push you to go back to bed anymore. He knows it only really makes you feel bad for getting some sleep. He’s more than picked up these changes in the morning and accommodates you to his schedule with ease.
You feel more than love. You feel his affection wholeheartedly. It’s almost overwhelming, but you figure you’re never getting enough of it anyway.
“Hello…” You mumble from behind him, sliding your hands up his chest. You smell the spicy scent of seasoning from his cooking. ”Missed you.”
“Missed you too.” He smiles, pulling you to his side.
You stand in silence for a bit, too sleepy to continue the conversation sensibly and letting only the sound of the searing pan fill the room.
Yet you start. “Are you doing anything or going anywhere today?”
“No, not really,” he answers. “Why? You wanna do something?”
“No, not really,” you copy his tone, not really implying any sort of mocking. “I just wanna spend time with you.”
He laughs a little. “Clingy.”
“Thanks,” you roll your eyes. “Do you need help with anything?”
“Hmm,” he pauses for a split second to think. “Set the table for me, won’t ya? I’m almost done.”
“Alright.”
Warmth is the first thing you feel. A great, weighted warmth encasing you in your sleep. It wasn’t too early, as you felt the bright rays of the sun shine down and pierce through your closed eyes. Clearly, Jason should be more than awake by now.
Eyes closed, you whisper to the big bear of a man holding on to you for dear life. “Mmh, what time is it?”
Nothing from him in return. You lay a few kisses on his arm, hoping to wake him up, even a little.
“Love?” You hummed, reaching out for your phone to check the time. Your phone’s brightness blinds you, but as long as you can sleep in peace after this, you’re fine. “It’s 7:32. Shouldn’t you be up by now?”
You hear him mumble a few things, mostly incoherent, but you can at least make out his little, “Mmh, five more minutes.”
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My Shifting Story That Keeps Me Motivated To This Day
Well hello again! I think it is time I share my own "almost" success story. I know a lot of you might not be interested in reading about my ALMOST success. But trust me... the more I tink about my own story the more I realize how silly it was of me to procrastinate actually doing it for so long. It's almost funny. But let's get into it, shall we?
As I have already mentioned it in my previous posts (please do read them if you haven't already to fill in any blanks that you may or may not have). I have been at a very dark place at that time. And I didn't wanna live the way that I had for as long as I could remember, because I simply wasn't happy.. with my life or my family. And I felt like I was a good kid. And I was! So when I discovered the subliminal world.. I saw it as my escape and a way to finally become happy. And that's when the subliminal "Wake up in your desired family" came into picture.
Like I mentioned before, there were only a couple success stories under that subliminal, but at that time our community was even smaller compared to what it is now. And those 10 - 14k views was more than enough for me to believe that it was a real deal. It's a bit funny to think about it now because these days we tend to pick subliminals that has thousands and thousands and thousands of views? Am I right? :) That's how we decide whether the subliminal works or not.
Anyways.. back to my storytime. I have already mentioned in another post of mine that those success stories that I did see all said the same thing. That for them to start feeling the results it took them a couple months. And if you remember as well as I do. Back then everyone set a limiting belief that for a subliminal message to start working you need to listen to it for at least 21 days. Even tho that wasn't true, I didn't know much about shifting so I believed it. And I also wasn't desperate enough, so since the stories told me it took THEM 1 - 2 months, I figured it'd take me the exact amount of time. And I thought it was nothing compared to the future I was gonna have.
So all that I did for those couple months was listen to that subliminal at least 1 hour a day and sometimes if I could overnight with the idea that I could wake up in my desired family any given moment. Pay attention to that. I didn't set a deadline or put pressure on myself for doing anything wrong. I just listened and knew it was going to happen. When exactly? No idea. How exactly? Not a clue, but I didn't care. Because knowing less was actually more of a blessing than I thought. I had no limiting beliefs. All it did was awaken my inner child and that whole journey felt magical to me and I really looked foward to my results.
Probably a month passed by when I started getting tired around the same time, every single day so I'd take naps. At a time a half an hour nap was more than enough to make me feel rested and I'd get in the state of being awake yet asleep at the same time. You know what I am talking about. The state during which it feels like you are in and out of sleep. When the sounds feel like they are far far away and then they dissapear. It almost sounds like I was close to tapping in the void state, no? :)
So whenever I'd feel tired I'd just have one earbud in my ear and lay in whatever comfortable position I wanted to lay in. It usually was on my side. And I had no intention to shift because I KNEW it was gonna happen either way. So I'd lay down and just have myself doze off listening to my playlist (I had a couple boosters too but then I'd just loop the main subliminal). And then I started feeling unusual sensations and feelings I have never felt before. All I did was just lay there and day dream about how I was gonna wake up in my desired room and I tried imagining it in detail. How I was gonna walk out of my room and see my best friends that I was going to shift there with. And literally all I did was just loop that scene because it made me happy :')
I keep rambling haha I'm sorry. Back to what happened. I was probably a month in when I started to get tired and naking naps around the same time and suddenly my naps were different? I would just mind my own business, think about my future when suddenly I would feel this insanely strong sensation that I was being lifted off of my bed and that my body was turning and flying somewhere?? But because I didn't know exactly what it was it'd freak me out and my body would flinch. That's when I'd recover the feeling of my body back and it felt like I'd literally fall back into my bed. And I mean LITERALLY get slammed back into my body. And this wasn't a one time thing. Same thing kept happening every single day for like 2 weeks (until I got insecure and shifted my focus somehwere else as I've mentioned in another post). What's funny is that I didn't even realize what was happening. I was just like "Oh? That's a new feeling" I was just curious and wanted for it to keep happening so I could understand it better. I only realized what it was when it stopped happening all together and for that I blame myself.
But you know what? It's okay. I've learnt so much since then. And it's insane how all I did every day was look for other success stories to convince myself that this was real. When I had my own very real success story. I KNOW all fo this is real because I experienced it. And I am done looking for a confirmation from other people. I know the truth and that's enough. And you should too. You don't need any of these methods. All you need is to do whatever makes you feel comfortable and happy and that you know works for YOU. Cause what actually matters is that YOU KNOW is gonna work for you. That's all that ANY of us really need.
I know this is a lot, but if you actually read this I hope it helped and made you realize something... anything really. Be your own success story and make your dreams come true.
I believe soon you will hear about my own final success story:) Goodbye for now. Next post will be more about my fairy companion. Do look forward to that!
Much love,
Foxy ♡🦊
#loassumption#reality shifting#shifting#shifting community#shifting motivation#void state#void state success#shifting blog#the void#void#manifesting#manifestation#success story#shifters#shiftblr#updates#law of assumption#loa tumblr#loa blog#loa#master manifestor#subliminals
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WANNA BE YOUR DOG
Chapter Four
Cagefighter!Logan Howlett x Reader
Chapters | Masterlist
cw: suggestive
You don’t sleep. You lie under the covers, hyper-aware of the man on the other side of the wall. In your restless mind, last night’s event plays over and over and over again.
The two of you had broken apart after those few blissful seconds to blink stupidly at each other. The only thing able to snap you out of your trance was an icy gust of wind making your whole body shudder, at which Logan said hurriedly, “We should go inside.”
An awkward goodnight and that was it; your doors clicking shut simultaneously. Did that mean he regrets it? Do you regret it? You groan into your pillow wishing only to sleep, sleep, sleep.
–
Logan goes to work early and comes back in the mid-afternoon. In the evening, you take the bus to the bar; he drives there later. As you ward off nasty men all night, there’s a deep dread weighing you down inside at the thought of yet another excruciating ride home.
The second he starts up the van, he turns on the radio. The Rolling Stones’ Wild Horses fills the empty silence in place of conversation.
“I like this song,” you say meekly.
“Yeah,” he grunts, “Stones are great.”
Another awkward goodnight. And that’s all you said to each other today.
–
After another day passes, you don’t know whether to cry or scream. You can’t meet his eyes and now he can’t meet yours either. You’re wound up so tightly that you fear what will happen to you when you unravel. Sat on the couch, you remain as far away from Logan as you can manage without making it apparent you’re trying to put space between you, bouncing your knee. The house is dark and the TV glaringly bright, causing your eyes to water, but you keep on staring straight at it.
Logan, however, is staring straight at you.
“Are you okay?” he asks after nearly half an hour of hesitation.
That’s all it took.
“No, Logan, I’m not okay,” you snap. “After we – the other night – and then you just don’t say anything to me! For fuck’s sake, it’s been radiosilence from you for two nights! You could at least tell me you regretted kissing me-”
“Regretted?” he echoes, brows furrowed.
“Why else would you ignore me?” you shout.
Logan stands, abandoning his beer on the side table. “I don’t regret shit. I thought you were the one who regretted it, since you haven’t been able to look me in the face since.”
You leap to your feet. “I was embarr-”
“Do you regret it?”
The question makes you pause. Logan waits, staring you down with such an intensity it should make you want to run – but you don’t, you step closer, recalling his taste, his touch…
“No.” You answer.
His expression softens as he processes this new information. “Then…why are we fighting?”
“I don’t know,” you breathe, the both of you inching tentatively closer. You take in his face as the light from the screen flickers across his features: he’s handsome in a classically rugged way, so much so it makes your heart swell against your ribcage. He gently settles his hands on your waist and you peer up at him nervously. “Will you kiss me?”
His lips collide with yours the second the words leave your mouth, his arms engulfing you as you loop yours around his neck. It’s pure passion. The slightest whimper escapes the back of your throat, causing him to bite down on your bottom lip. Your hands immediately make their way up into his hair.
You break for air, gasping and panting, and he takes the opportunity to pull you back down onto the couch, settling in his lap. He begins to descend down your neck: starting along your jaw, then down the column of your throat, and settling at the base, kissing and suckling. Your hands find purchase again in his hair. You gasp when he finds a sensitive spot, and he sucks a mark there before attacking your lips again eagerly. Heat is pooling in your lower abdomen, and your hips twitch, a subtle half-grind that Logan picks up on straight away. He bucks up into you and presses your hips down to meet him in a grind that makes you stutter out a startled moan. Your bodies move just like that as you kiss each other feverishly.
When you pull away from his face, his pupils large with lust, gazing dreamily into yours – you realise what you’re doing.
“Wait, Logan – wait,” you pant.
He stops immediately, studying your face with a terrified expression. “Are you okay? I can stop.”
You giggle airily, feeling a little light-headed. “I’m fine, Lo, I just don’t want to jump into things.” You see him exhale with relief, wrapping his arms around your middle to hold you closer. “After everything with my last boyfriend…”
“I understand.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “We’ll take it slow, sweetheart, no rush at all.”
–
The next week was tentative. You tested the waters first, giving him a kiss on the cheek before he left for work in the morning. Then he put his arm around you when you watched TV together; you pressed your arm against his as he washed while you dried the dishes; he put his hand on your knee when driving home the previous night.
Although he could never admit it to himself, Logan is absolutely terrified. You’re such a sweet thing – delicate and lovely next to him. Like glass. He worries that if he were to hold you too tight you’d shatter into a million little reflective pieces.
Sore from swinging an axe all day, he drives home, recalling how he once lived so coldly in this van when it dawns on him that there’s no going back. Your warmth sustains him now. A rare smile lifts his lips at the thought of your big eyes and pretty face greeting him at the door.
The saccharine fantasy is instantly crushed like a bug by the scene that awaits him inside. He sees you standing in the living room, a girl he doesn’t recognise crying on your shoulder. Something sinister seizes in his gut when he sees the distant, anxious look in your eyes as you half-heartedly pet her hair.
“Who’s this?”
–
At first, you’d simply stared, dumbfounded, when Alice appeared at your door.
“He kicked me out and I have nowhere to go,” she’d wept, and, in spite of everything, you stepped aside to usher her into the home you once shared.
You tried hard to forget how familiar it sounded when she explained how he’d found someone else and left her in his dust. There was a heaviness in your bones when you brought her into your embrace.
“You can sleep on the couch.” you sighed.
–
“Why did you let her in?”
Your bedroom door clicked shut behind Logan as you slump on the bed with blushing cheeks. He must think I’m such a loser.
You let out a shaky breath, “We were friends for years, practically sisters, I couldn’t just… say no.”
He snorts, and tears prick at your waterline. “Some sister.”
Your lower lip trembles. You bow your head so that he can’t see you try to blink back the tears – but it’s no use.
“Hey, I just mean…” he stoops down and takes your chin in his hand. “She hurt you. She could hurt you again.”
“I know, but…” you sigh. “It’s worth giving her a second chance.”
An unreadable look flickers over his face; he swallows hard before murmuring, “If that’s what you want.”
a/n: so sorry this took so long!!
@viviannagiorgini @maximumchilddreamland @vinaluvsu @policedeer @curlies-world @twinky-wink @willow-t @nobrihere @marshymallo @jasmines-greentea @pink-jello-fish @unlikelygalaxygiver @yakbuttersoup
#logan howlett x reader#wolverine x reader#logan howlett#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut#wolverine x you#smut#wannabeyourdog#wbyd
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