#not sure if this counts as flashing but it's toeing the line

[copia]

PAPA EMERITUS IV WILL BE HAUNTING CINEMAS IN TWO WEEKS

[tonycries]

Everybody Knows That I'm a Good Girl, Officers...

Synopsis. You don’t know what’s faster - how fast you were speeding down the highway, or how fast you’re on your knees for the hot officers that just so happen to pull you over.

Pairing. Officer! Gojo Satoru x Reader x Officer! Toji Fushiguro

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, police! au, unprotected, being pulled over, thréesome, eiffel tower, oral (female + male receiving), manhandling, dynamics, cúmplay, marking, they lowkey make it a competition, implied dp, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.0k

A/N. I don’t condone actually speeding y’all.

You were screwed. Completely and utterly screwed.

“Shit shit shit-” you hiss, eyes flitting to the flashing red and blue lights in your rearview mirror, sirens blaring behind you. The engine roared, pavement a blur beneath your tires - a stupid, spur-of-the-moment decision. You knew you were pushing your luck with your late night speeding, fueled by an empty highway and even emptier adrenaline. 

And, well, it seems like your little thrill-seeking caught up with you, quite literally, as you hastily pull over on the side of the road. Heart sinking when the police car parks right behind you - the final nail in your coffin. 

You heave out a steadying breath, trying to get your thoughts in order long enough to come up with an even slightly believable explanation. Why did you think this was a good idea, again?

Tap! Tap! Tap! 

Shit, in the heat of the moment you’d barely heard the heavy footsteps in the distance. Immediately snapping your head up to look at-

Oh.

Whatever flimsy excuse dies in your throat with just one glance at the officer knocking at your glass - the unfairly hot officer. Your face burns as you urgently roll down the window - partly out of necessity, and partly because you really wanted to see him better. Those snowy white locks, and- shit was that a dimple at the corner of the sly little smile curling his lips?

Twinkling gaze locked with yours, he rests an arm against the roof of the car - and you almost have to look away, your looming speeding ticket being the last thing on your mind at the way his arms flex so enticingly. Leaning down to smirk, “Ya have any idea how fast you were going, sweetheart?”

His voice was playful, and deep enough that it takes a second for you to find yours. Swallowing thickly, you bat your lashes innocently up at him, “Sorry, officer. I have no idea.” 

“Fast enough that’s for sure,” he huffs out a laugh, eyeing the way you squirm embarrassedly in your seat, “C’mon, license n’ registration, now.”

Fumbling through your glove compartment, heat rushes down your spine when his fingertips happen just brush against yours as you hand over the documents. While he looks them over, you take the moment to read his badge - Gojo. 

“Officer Gojo-”

“Satoru, m’not one for formalities.”

“Officer Satoru,” you press, words laced with just the right amount of flirtation. “I’m terribly sorry, I promise I didn’t know the speed limit.” And if it were any other moment then you’d be almost embarrassed at how you were fawning over him - but, well, one look at him and how could you resist?

“M’sure.” Not when he dips his head infinitely closer, hot breath fanning your face. Close - too close. And especially not when he mutters lowly, “Out.”

Which is how you found yourself strutting down the highway in a straight line, trying your very best not to tumble under the pressure of a looming Satoru.

“Keep walkin’.” And by God he was enjoying this a bit too much. Leaning against your car, arms crossed, and watching your every move. Stare so intense that a stupid little part of you couldn’t help but wonder whether his eyes lingered on you a bit too long to check for signs of drunkenness or something else. 

“Well,” Satoru’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts, whirling around to catch him sweeping you one last time from head to toe. “Seems you’re not under the influence.” And you’ve barely let a smug smile make its way onto your face before he’s plowing on, “But m’still gonna have to write you up for speeding.”

“Oh come on.” you drag out, slightly whiny yet not desperate - at least, not yet. Leaning ever-so-slightly closer to him, making sure that the tight top you wore lets him see a perfect view of your breasts. “I really didn’t know.”

Eyes flickering down. Once. Twice. 

Success. 

But Satoru only raises his brows, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms over his chest. And by the twinkle of amusement in his gaze, you knew the smug bastard was doing this on purpose. “There are consequences for breaking the law, y’know~ Even for pretty lil’ things like you.”

Inching forward, “Can’t I just be let off with a warning, please?”

“And what makes you think you deserve one?”

Something hot, and prickly coils in your stomach at his tone. “Oh I dunno…” you trail off, so close now that there was only a hair’s breadth between your two. You could feel the heat of his body at this proximity, and it was making your head spin. “I’m sure I can convince you I do.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, grinning, “Not me, pretty girl.” And you’ve barely registered the words before the police car door slams again, and he’s nodding his head somewhere behind you. “He’s the one that’ll be writing your ticket.”

Oh? Oh, shit. 

Heart stopping, you whirl around to meet a matching, sly little smirk. “Meet, Toji, sweetheart. My patrol partner, of sorts.”

And in the dim lighting, you could make out how unfairly handsome he was. A bit older, uniform hugging him so sinfully tight - all dark hair and rugged, dangerous authority as he skims over your license. “Your superior.” the rough baritone of the newcomer’s voice sent shocks right down to your core. 

“Semantics.”

“What’ve we got here?” Toji asks, tilting his head, unabashedly drinking in the sight of you just as his colleague did. “Skipping out on your duties again, brat?”

“Of course not. Just that this one,” Satoru starts. And your skin burns at the way he addresses you, words dripping with a mean little tone as if you were nothing but a plaything, “Says she didn’t know the speed limit, and wants to get off easy.”

“‘Get off easy’, huh?” Toji hums thoughtfully. “Don’t know if we can do that, doll.”

“Mhm, the old man’s right for once. Can’t put our jobs at risk, y’know?”

But oh you’d never be fooled by their little act, you catch the way their eyes meet, a silent understanding stirring between the two. You bite your lips coyly, holding back a smirk as you unhurriedly reach out to pull Toji in by his collar. His knee between your legs, your back falling against Satoru’s front, strong arms steadying you by the shoulders. “Are you sure?”

You could feel his heartbeat quickening, as was the latter’s, toned chest rumbling at the way his partner grits out a hoarse, “Positive.” Shit, they make it so easy. 

Sandwiched between both men now, you whisper - low enough that they have to strain their heads closer to hear, “But I promise I’ll be a good girl, officers.”

Toji’s lips are on you before you know it - so hot and just as messy as you thought the man would be. One hand around your throat, squeezing lightly as he licks at the seam of your mouth. Such a desperate clash of lips and saliva as he bullies his tongue inside to intertwine with yours.

He tastes almost minty, with the slight taste of something so intoxicating that you don’t even realize you’re pushing down on Satoru, grinding in mindless little motions. At least, not until he’s gripping tightly at your hips, shifting your ass ever-so-slightly to graze against his swollen cock. 

That makes you gasp and pull apart, tiny strings of saliva snapping as you look behind at Satoru. Feeling him, so big, so hot behind you - even through his uniform. 

“Is that-”

“Shh, focus on what you’re doing, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly. Breath ghosting your ear as a hand comes up to squish your cheeks together, forcing you to face forward. “Wouldn’t wanna make my dear supervisor here mad, huh?”

And it takes everything in you to take your mind off of how massive Satoru felt underneath you. Damp, and throbbing behind you, a wet little patch right where his angry tip was. 

The only thing that actually snaps you out of your little reverie is Toji’s voice, husky, and dangerously sweet. “I gotta say, m’feeling left out.” he sighs mockingly, fingers tightening around your throat. “And after I’m the one supposed to be writing you up? How rude.” 

You meet his eyes, half-lidded and looking at you hungrily. He liked this - seeing you all breathless and needy, so eager to please.

“M-m’sorry-” you squirm in their iron grasp.

“Now now, ‘sorry’ won’t always cut it.” Toji gives a soft, playful little smack to your ass, before addressing the other man. “Whaddaya say we do about that, brat?” 

You look up at Satoru pleadingly, only to be met with a dark chuckle. Shit, if anything, you thought that he would be the nicer of the two - but that stupid little illusion falls apart with every word that falls from his lips. And oh how he enjoyed watching your slow, dawning realization that no you weren’t going to get mercy from either of them. “Guess we should teach her some manners, huh?”

“I dunno…I don’t think her slutty lil’ pussy will learn, though.”

That felt like a slap to the face - one that had your dripping cunt quivering in- fear? Anticipation? You really couldn’t give a fuck right now, not when they’re talking over you like you’re some object. Not when Toji’s shoving his knee deeper in-between your thighs, rocking your hips lightly. You whine, “P-please. I want to.”

“Want to what? C’mon now, use your words like a big girl.” It’s Satoru now, teasing you as you hesitate in giving into what you really want. 

Your voice cracks pathetically, at the embarrassing admission. Being stuck between these two men way too much for you to handle. “I want…” 

“Say it, sweetheart.”

“Wan’ to be fucked by you both. Have you teach me some m-manners.”

And then it happens. 

Your back hits the cushion before you even realize what’s happening, sinking into your car backseat as the two officers shut the door behind you. Satoru sits on one side, while Toji pushes down the front seats on the other. Cramped, heady - and exactly where you wanted to be right now. 

Shit, when did they even open the car door? You don’t have half the mind to wonder, because neither of them waste any time. Immediately groping your tits - your waist - your thighs, everywhere and anywhere they could reach. 

Satoru’s kissing you now - drinking you in like you were his favorite taste. And you just think he might be yours, so sweet, like those cheap lollipops you saw at convenience stores. Drinking in your breathless gasps as Toji begins unbuttoning your top, letting it fall to God-knows-where and-

“Fuuuck.” he lets out a low whistle, “Kid, look at this.”

With an almost-pained grunt, Satoru’s pulling away. Eyes widening as he takes in the sight of you - braless, and exposed so shamefully for the both of them, of course. “No bra?” he mutters raspily. “Always knew you were a lil’ slut, doll.” But you knew by the way his breath hitches that he liked it. 

And Toji did too, if the way his fingers danced along your hardened nipples was anything to go by. “What did I tell you? Bet she’s got such a naughty pussy, too.”

Your head is spinning, both from his words and the way Satoru’s claiming your lips once again. Murmuring into your mouth, “Only one way to find out.”

And that’s all that is said before they’re all but ripping your skirt off your hips. The poor, flimsy fabric nothing against the two men that were now looking at your drenched panties in pure awe. 

In fact, Toji drops to his knees onto the car interior, face to face with your pretty pussy. Greedily drinking in the way your slick beads out so sloppily,  the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. Gaze heated enough that you’re embarrassed. 

“Ah ah-” Satoru tuts, seeing the way your bare thighs were trying to close - not letting yourself have even some semblance of dignity. “You said you’d be a good girl f’us, isn’t that right, old man?”

“Mhm, s’what she said.”

Shit, you can do nothing but have your legs wrestled open, Satoru’s fingers sliding so delicately underneath your panties. “You heard him, pretty.” Index sliding up and down, up and down up and- grazing your swollen folds, all the way from your base, stopping just below your throbbing clit. Tease. “So why don’t we let officer Toji here get a good look at how wet your pretty lil’ cunt is?”

Neither man waits for your answer - of course, they don’t.

Rip! 

Several things happen at once, you barely have the time to react before Satoru’s holding your panties in his fist, tattered and soaked with your slick. Your mouth drops open in disbelief as he dangles it like a badge of honor, holding it up, up, up, only to breathe in your scent obscenely. “Fuck, you even smell like the perfect angel.”

Toji - taking the opportunity - dives face-first into your pussy. Groaning at the taste - you were so sweet, so addictive on his tongue. Licking lazily up your swollen folds, letting your sweet sweet juices get all over his face as he buries himself nose-deep. 

“Oh!” you gasp, fisting his locks in your hands, “Shit shit shit-” Toji was in eating you out, exactly as he was with kissing - sloppy. Unabashed. Letting his tongue move so messily all over your cunt, while his colleague held you still. Letting him devour you as he pleased. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, sweetheart.” Satoru whispers into your ear, every cute lil’ whine of yours going straight to his painfully hard cock. 

And, well, Satoru can’t just sit here and watch Toji have you all to himself, now. Can he? Which is why he begins playing with your sensitive nipples. Twirling his hot tongue around one, rolling the other between his fingers.

Drunk off your moans and the way you’re so overstimulated by both men. Unable to decide between where your body wants to focus on - grinding down on Toji’s relentless mouth or leaning towards Satoru’s. And it’s driving you mad. 

“Hngh- fuck- Feel’s good.” you whine, bucking your hips wildly.

“Yeah? Ya like this?” Toji speaks first, words muffled around your clit. Sucking and rolling his tongue harshly across it. Over and over. Strangely in time with the quick, maddening little circles that Satoru licks around your nipples. 

Being ruined like this from both ends was way too much - so you can only nod deliriously. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. Letting Toji throw your legs over his shoulders, looking so fucking gorgeous in-between your legs like he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Brows furrowing in bliss as he tilts his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Shit.” Lapping even faster at your pussy. “Could get used to this.”

And let it be known that Gojo Satoru was a jealous man, because he pulls away from your tits with a lewd pop! Grunting sulkily, “Move over. Wan’ taste her cute pussy, too.”

Either Toji doesn’t hear him over the lewd little squelches coming from down below, or he ignores it - probably the latter. Continuing to make out with your cunt so messily. 

But Satoru was nothing if not persistent, snaking down a hand to gather your slick on his fingertips. Immediately shoving them in his mouth and oh- You watch blearily as his eyes roll to the back of his head, sucking his fingers clean like a man possessed. 

“Oh- fuck.” his mouth drops into a soft oh! Leaning forward like he wanted to kiss you senseless, only to halt and shuffle off the carseat. Because he wanted to make out with your cunt more. Dropping to the ground beside Toji, Satoru gives him a minute shove, “Move. M’not letting you be the only one to taste this heavenly pussy.”

“Hah- ya think you can eat her out the way she deserves, brat?” Licking at your inner thigh, “Lemme show you how a real man does it.”

“Watch and learn, old man.” Both men push your legs as far apart as they’d go, spreading you so shamefully for them. You reel from the stretch and the sinful sight below you. 

Because immediately, they’re making out hungrily with your cunt together. Sloppily and needy - tongues bumping into each other, intertwining, burying their faces between your legs as they eat you out like a little competition. Satoru’s licking up and down your slit, pooling your slick on his tongue, while Toji’s wrapping his pretty lips around your ravaged clit. 

“Sh-shit. Satoru- Toji. Ah! M’so close.” you squirm as they moan into your wet cunt, the vibrations sending white-hot pleasure running up your spine. Drinking in your little whimpers like they were addicted. 

“Like this?” Satoru groans. “Feels good being eaten out by the both of us?”

The car fills with your breathy moans, and it’s hard to speak with the way they’re alternating between flicking your clit and squeezing your tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you out, thrusting at a frenzied pace - you don’t even know who is who at this point. Just getting off with a needy, “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes- Feels s’good!”

“Like being our little whore, doll?”

Maybe it was Toji’s words - so filthy even when he was calling out to you sweetly. Or maybe it was the way Satoru was grinding his jaw as he plunges his soft tongue deeper into your plushy walls. Probably it was how they both looked at you - like you were their last meal. 

Because you’re cumming, and cumming so messily all over their mouths. “Shit. S’too much. Ah-”

And neither man stops - almost like it was difficult to part. Letting you drag your sloppy pussy incoherently all over while they continue to flick and dip their tongues. Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation.

“Heh, you’re gonna make her cry.” Satoru grins, as he finally parts. Your slick glossing so prettily all over the bottom half of his face - and his partner wasn’t any better. Rising from in-between your thighs looking very decidedly not sorry for eating you out till you cry. 

You watch, speechless, as Toji swipes a thumb over his lips, watching in wonder the way it becomes sticky with your juices. “Could get used to this all over m’face, right?”

“Mhm.” the other man hums, absentmindedly fumbling with his shirt. Revealing smooth, milky skin - he was so deliciously sculpted, all toned muscled and a slutty waist that made your mouth water. Shit, he was a masterpiece. 

But Satoru - that impatient bastard - doesn’t even give you the time to admire the entirety of him before he’s unbuckling his belt. “Though I think she’d look better with something else.”

You gasp as he pulls down his pants, tugging just enough that his swollen cock springs out. Absolutely massive and such an angry red, weeping tip dripping all the way down his length. He was so long - the type of long that had you knowing that won’t be walking properly tomorrow. 

“How crude.” Toji titters, but shit how he loved the way you seemed so cockdrunk from the mere sight of Satoru’s dick. It almost made some tiny part of him jealous. 

“Whatever, dibs on her cunt,” Satoru grunts, one hand moving to toy so messily with your dripping entrance. Pointedly ignoring the heated glare thrown his way by Toji, and the way he begins rolling your clit between two fingers. Almost like a little standoff - with you stuck in the middle. 

Toji breaks first, “M’your superior, I should be the one to fuck her pretty pussy.”

“Aw come on.” the other man whines, and it would almost be comical if it wasn’t for the way his long fingers were massaging your hot core. “Think of it as a ah- learning experience. After all, who knows whether you’d hurt yourself trynna fuck her the way I can.”

“You mouthy little-”

“Now, pretty girl, let’s see if y’can walk the talk.”

And oh you should’ve known better than to think you’d be stuffed inside the backseat of a car with two police officers without them throwing you around like a rag doll. 

Immediately, Toji’s manhandling you, fingers digging into your waist as he pushes you on all fours. Lining his aching bulge right in front of your soppy mouth, saliva seeping into his pants. 

Well, there was no use wearing soiled clothing, right? You watch, cunt clenching in anticipation as he shoves down his pants in record speed. 

Oh, the universe was playing a joke on you - because Toji was just as big. If a bit thicker where Satoru was longer. Prominent veins glistening in the dim light, precum dripping all the way down to the maintained tufts of black at his base.

Shit, your eyes flit between the intimidatingly big cocks. One in front of you, grazing his fat tip across your lips, and the other positioned right over your sloppy entrance. You weren’t going to make it out alive. 

“Having second thoughts?” Toji scoffs, edging his hips closer. Greedily taking in how fucking pretty you looked with his precum glossing your mouth, messy and dripping down to your chin. “Wan’ tap out?”

You barely even have to your head “no” - because Satoru’s answering for you. Spreading your pussy lips with his thumb, taking one, long look before chuckling, “Course not. Y’should see the way her needy cunt is sucking my thumb up.”

“Well then. Guess we’ll get to the real fun.”

With that, Toji’s stuffing himself into your mouth. A low hiss leaving the back of his throat as you take him so well, lips bulging around his thick cock. Tonguing at the sensitive slit in a way that makes him lose his mind. 

Not even giving your a proper warning as he pushes in inch by fucking inch, watching you choke and gag around him. Not stopping till he’s got your nose pressed all the way against his toned pelvis. “Shit, relax yer throat. Fuck, ah- just like that, doll.”

And if you thought he was mean then you weren’t prepared for Satoru at all - not with the way he was immediately squeezing his thick head into your snug cunt. Head thrown back as your heavenly walls can’t decide between pushing him out or milking the fucking soul out of him. 

“S’tight, fuckin’ love this pussy.” Satoru gasps, jaw clenched, trying not to just fuck recklessly into your cunt until you’re drunk on his cock. But God is it difficult to keep his sanity when all he gets in response from you is a choked, wet gurgles. Body bowing into both of theirs as you desperately try to relax both your throat and your cunt. 

“Gonna stand around waitin’ or am I gonna have to ruin her pretty pussy for you?” Toji taunts, voice strained as he begins thrusting in quick, harsh strokes into your hot mouth. “Talked big, huh, kid?”

“Fuck off.”

And Satoru’s never one to lag behind. After all, he did graduate at the top of his batch at the academy - he can’t lose face in front of you or his annoying superior either. 

So he tightens his grip on your hips, hard enough that he’s pretty sure it bruises. Pushing down on your spine to arch your back deeper onto his cock.  “I dunno.” he drawls, “What do you think, sweetheart? Want me to fuck into this tight lil’ pussy? Ruin you on my cock?” 

Of course, the only response he gets is a low, wet moan. Luckily, both men understand it as a loud, resounding “yes”. 

“Awww, look at her- hah- Cock-drunk little slut can’t even speak.” It’s the last thing that spills out of Satoru’s mouth before he’s pushing past that tight ring of resistance. No care or concern for your poor pussy because shit his thoughts were too mangled with how heavenly you felt around him. 

“You got this, pretty.” he whispers, fucking into you in small, shallow little thrusts just to fit himself inside you. “Take me all like the good girl you are.”

And oh were you such a good girl for him - Satoru thinks he could almost cum on the spot as he finally bottoms out. Sucking up his cock so fucking sinfully as his heavy balls smacking your ass, already so wet with your slick and his precum. 

“There ya are.” Toji hums, the image of you choking on his cock while you struggle to take Satoru’s making his head absolutely spin. He can’t stop himself from leaning down and kissing hotly down your spine, making you buck and gag deeper around his dick. In the haze of it all, he catches Satoru’s amused gaze. Spitting out, “What?”

“Softie.”

“Oh, shut up. You can’t even handle her pussy.”

And Satoru took that personally, because he’s reeling his hips back, back, back - all the way till his angry, weeping tip just kissed you sloppy holes. “M’gonna show you, softie.” Body moving before his mind, he starts fucking into your pretty cunt recklessly. Hands groping all over your body possessively, hips moving in rough, harsh thrusts fueled by pure need and the urge to ruin you. Over and over-

Toji only smiles at the little show, your garbled whines every time Satoru hits your poor cervix going straight to his cock - quite literally. And if he angled his head just right, he could see the way your cute cunt was stretching obscenely. Barely-lucidly, he wonders whether your throat would bulge around his just as much. 

He taps your cheek, signaling you to blink those pretty eyes so tearily up at him. Balls squeezing painfully, he really can’t help but pump his cock into you faster, matching Satoru’s merciless cadence - ruining you from both sloppy holes. “Sorry, doll. Gotta big ego, so we can’t be outdone, now, can we?”

And then it’s like something snaps because suddenly every movement becomes sloppier, more erratic. Toji’s got a hand around your throat, feeling each thrust as he ruins your gorgeous face. Abs flexing each time he drags your lips on his cock up and down up and down up and- like some toy.

Satoru wasn’t any nicer either - becoming so fucking messy as he fucks you from behind like he was claiming his win. Faster, sloppier. 

Biting his lip at the way your ass jiggles each time his hips snap into yours. Pulling you back by the hair to bounce you like some little slut from both ends. And, maybe if you were in any better state of mind you’d have said something about the way they were using you like their favorite fucktoy - but right now you were so close. Dangerously close. It was too much. 

And they probably feel it because suddenly Toji’s leaning down, murmuring hotly against your ear, “S- fuck. Ngh- Close?”

“Fuck, I can feel it too.” Satoru voices from behind, so hoarse with desire, “Suckin’ me up so hah- t-tight it’s almost hard to fuck her.” It’s his cue to reach down deftly and start toying with your ravaged clit, still so sensitive and sore from before. Drawing erratic little circles on it, pinching with his fingers. 

You’re letting out throaty, muffled moans of their names, making Toji’s hips stutter. Holding you still as his aching balls smack your ass. “Hngh- shit. Keep doin’ that, brat, this one here loves it.” 

“What did I tell ya? S’like this pussy’s made f’me.”

And if they couldn’t feel it then they certainly could see it. They could see the way you were getting messier, pussy dripping all over the carseat now. Mascara running down your face, saliva and precum trailing down your chin. Honestly, it was fucking hard to look at you without cumming right there, too. Because you looked completely and utterly fucked out. So close that it was almost painful. 

Maybe that’s why both men speed up their pace impossibly, no reason or rhyme. You feel a wolfish bite on your exposed neck - Satoru - fingers frenzied on your clit, thrusts stemming from such a carnal, depraved part of him. Falling out of sync with Toji as they get so sloppy with the goal to get you off - and get you off so hard that you can’t think about anything but them, them, them-

“Cum, doll.”

This orgasm is more obscene than the last. Far more. Because you honestly don’t even realize you’re cumming, not until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes and feeling Satoru and Toji slamming harshly into you. Once. Twice. Before spilling into you in unison. 

And it’s so much that you don’t even know if you can take it. 

Toji’s salty on your tongue, pumping thick, hot ropes of tongue into your mouth. Pulling out purposefully like the smug bastard he is to see his seed all messy and dribbling down your face. While Satoru’s much the opposite, keeping his twitching cock stuffed into your tight pussy while he paints your walls white. Not letting you waste a single drop.

But oh he didn’t mind when you finally pull yourself off of Toji’s dick. Cum smearing so sloppily all over your face, and shit he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier. 

And Satoru really doesn’t mind when you look back and pull him into a kiss - Toji, too. If you can even call it that, a messy clash of teeth and tongue and cum. So much of it. Swirling and sucking on your tongue, bumping into each other. Just pure fucking filth. 

It gets Satoru’s dick so hard and throbbing all over again at how obscene it all was. Some weird little part of him is almost disappointed as Toji breaks the kiss - but not for long. Because his superior shifts, splaying himself out beneath you, while he pulls your limp body on top. 

Ah. Great minds really do think alike, he thinks as Toji drags his tip lazily all over your cunt. Pooling your juices on his fat head, grazing your poor, abused clit to where your sloppy pussy was quivering and still stuffed full of Satoru’s cock. Well, not like you didn’t have room for one more. Right?

It’s all you can do to babble deliriously, “W-wha-”

“Shhh, doll. We’ll take care of it.”

“After all, sweetheart, you did say you’d be our good girl…”

A/N. This got taken down the first time I posted it LMAO. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[notlongtolove]

the cup holds the tea

it hits you all at once and you’re out of the booth in a flash, spencer right behind you. you’ve barely made it to the sidewalk when the drinks betray you—straight onto spencer’s shoes. the world blurs, and all you can think, mortified, is that you’ve just broken one of the cardinal rules of dating.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: bau!reader has too much to drink and its up to bf!spencer to get her home. and brief mentions of puke... oh reader...

word count: 3k

note: well personally i don't know if i could ever love someone enough where i would lay on my bed in my 'outside clothes' but good on you spence! once i slipped and fell in someone's puke and cried all the way home.

a line: They’ve seen Spencer look at a thousand things with fascination—books, theories, puzzles, statistics. But this? This is something else entirely.

It is a kind of love, is it not? How the cup holds the tea, How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare, How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes Or toes. How soles of feet know Where they’re supposed to be. - pat schneider

The room hangs on your words, the perfect moment of suspense stretched like a tightrope. You let it linger, savoring the pause.

“And they ate every last drop of it!”

The punchline lands, and laughter spills out around the table, loud and easy. You beam. Spencer watches you, his gaze warm, almost reverent. He’s always known you had this gift—how you could spin a story, command a room. If he weren’t so completely in love with you, he might’ve envied it. No amount of books or degrees could teach him your knack for recounting stories with such flair, or your ability to whip up comebacks at speeds that leave even Derek speechless.

Spencer’s lucky, and he knows it. His eyes trace the curve of your smile as you sip from your glass, your third—or fourth? He’s lost count. He notices you’re not wincing at its taste anymore and well, you know what they say when the drinks start to taste like water. The fact that you’re tearing up at something Garcia’s showing you—a sloth video, from what he can tell, doesn’t ease his worries in the slightest either. He's not entirely sure what Emily has been ordering for the table but whatever it is, it’s clearly doing its job.

It’s one of those rare nights out, the kind where the team sets work aside and pretends, for a few hours, that the weight of the world isn’t on their shoulders. Rossi had insisted, his treat he said, but Spencer suspects it was just an excuse for the team to watch you two loosen up, to let your guard down. A carefully orchestrated opportunity for the team to see something they hardly ever got to see. They’ve seen you two in the field, sharp and focused, in sync like clockwork. But tonight it's the way you lean into Spencer’s side without realizing it, the way Spencer gently moves your glass out of harm’s way when you gesture too wildly. This is a glimpse of something sacred, something rare.

It’d only been about a month since you and Spencer had made it official. Everyone saw it coming long before you did, but that didn’t stop the teasing once the news broke. They could barely pick their jaws up from off the floor even tonight when Spencer had his hand resting lightly on your waist, steadying you through the crowd as you laughed yourself breathless, stumbling. At work, you both keep it professional, steering clear of anything that might make Hotch raise an eyebrow. But the dim light of the bar is ever so tempting. The bar is full of loud laughter and clinking glasses and you just can’t help but take Spencer's hand into yours, fingers laced without hesitation. 

Spencer catches the way Derek’s eyes light up at the sight, the subtle nudge he gives Emily. He knows they’re going to bring this up later, probably all week.

But he doesn’t move his hand. He doesn’t let go.

The booth is packed tight as you’re all wedged together, shoulders brushing. Everyone’s smiling, unwinding in a way you rarely allow yourselves to, laughter bouncing in overlapping bursts. Spencer sits nursing his water, content to observe. His eyes are drawn back to you over and over, catching on the way your eyes crinkle when you laugh and the animated gestures you make as you speak.

“C’mon, pretty boy, live a little,” Derek teases, “Just one drink.”

Spencer gives a sheepish smile, waving it off. “I’m fine,” he says, eyes flicking over to you once more.

He can’t keep his eyes off you tonight, it seems. You’re laughing, and It’s unmistakable, the adoration in his gaze, something so un-Spencer-like that makes Derek smile.

He knows Spencer’s not one to drink. You, on the other hand, seem a little too eager, maybe encouraged by Emily’s coaxing, and you’re already on your next drink, cheeks bright and eyes sparkling. You lean into Garcia’s cheers, your glass lifted high. Your laughter is bright and unrestrained, pulling everyone else along with it.

Spencer considers saying something when you're giggling a little more than usual, laughing too hard at a joke that doesn't warrant it. But he knows how you’d take it. You’d wave him off with that familiar insistence, the same as always. It wasn't like you couldn't hold your own, Spencer knows that. You’d held your own at Rossi’s birthday last year just fine, outlasting nearly everyone—everyone except Rossi of course. And that’s probably why he’d already taken his leave tonight, not wanting to get caught in the tail end of whatever chaos this night will inevitably bring.

But that was then and now— Well, it’s different now. Now, the role of boyfriend sits heavier on his shoulders, a title he’s all too happy to hold. And tonight, it’s a card he’s all too happy to play. It gives him leverage, an edge that makes him feel like he has a little more room to step in without you pulling the I don’t need anyone to take care of me speech. 

Spencer sees his opening as lean back into his side a little too comfortably. “Here,” he murmurs, pressing his glass into your hand. “Drink this.”

He hopes you’re just tipsy enough not to ask too many questions, as long as it’s something from the bar. For a moment, it seems like it works—you sit up, eyeing the glass cautiously, then take it from him with slow deliberation.

Almost there, he thinks.

You peer into the glass, squinting at the clear liquid, then give it a small sniff. Spencer’s heart sinks as your expression shifts.

“This is water,” you say, suspiciously.

“Yes, it is,” he admits.

Your brow furrows, the faintest pout tugging at your lips. “I’m drinking vodka.”

“And now you’re drinking water.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, and I’d rather not carry you out of here tonight,” he says softly, the faintest flush colouring his cheeks.

You look up at him, unimpressed, but he stays firm. “Just drink the water, sweetheart,” he says quietly, his voice barely cutting through the noise.

He braces himself for your resistance. Instead, you huff, give him a pointed glare, and drink it. He watches as you sip, your nose scrunching at the lack of a bite. Spencer lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

The night winds on, the team louder than usual, swept up in Derek’s overly dramatic retelling of the prank war that once took over the bullpen. But you’re quieter, Spencer notices, the drinks maybe finally settling in a little too fast. Your smile slower, your laughter softer, head resting on his shoulder now and again. 

And then, suddenly, you’re not looking so well. It hits you all at once. The queasy welling in your stomach, the cold sweat prickling your skin. You’re out of the booth in a flash, Spencer right behind you as you stumble toward the door, your hand clamped over your mouth. 

You’ve barely made it to the sidewalk when the drinks betray you—straight onto Spencer’s shoes. The world blurs, and all you can think, mortified, is that you’ve just broken one of the cardinal rules of dating.

Of all people it had to be Spencer—germ-conscious, always-prepared Spencer—your lovely boyfriend who at this moment you’re not sure you can ever look in the eyes again Spencer. 

You don’t have to look up to see the team’s reaction as they round the corner, wide-eyed as they process what just happened. Derek’s mouth falls open in disbelief, Emily stares in shock, and Garcia whispers a dramatic, “Oh, no…”

They’re frozen. Because Spencer—Spencer, who uses hand sanitizer like it’s an extension of his arm, Spencer who’s the first to scrunch his nose at anything remotely messy—has just had his shoes christened in the worst way. You know they’re waiting for Spencer’s reaction, the tense recoil, the carefully contained grimace.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, Spencer pauses, takes a measured breath, and steps closer to you, his hands steady on your shoulders. “Hey,” he asks, voice low and soothing as he crouches to meet your gaze. “Sweetheart, you okay?” He brushes your hair away from your face, his touch careful and kind.

“Spence—” you mumble, your voice cracking with embarrassment. Your hands fly to cover your face. “I’m so sorry. Your shoes—oh my God, your shoes—”

Spencer shakes his head, a quiet laugh escaping as he crouches to steady you. His voice is impossibly gentle, calm in a way that eases the edges of your shame. “It’s fine. They’re just shoes,” he says softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your flushed face. “Let’s get you home, okay?” 

You nod, eyes shut, clearly mortified but he doesn’t let you dwell on it. He takes your hand, his grip firm but gentle. For a brief moment, Spencer contemplates asking the bartender for a glass of water to rinse off the mess, but he glances at you—your slightly swaying frame, the way your head droops just a little—and decides against it.

Getting you home safely takes precedence over everything else. Shoes can wait. You can’t.

Emily’s mouth falls open slightly as she watches, “Did Reid just…?” she murmurs, half to herself, as Derek gapes beside her. “Didn’t think the kid had it in him,” Derek says, shaking his head, a grin slowly spreading. Garcia sniffs, dramatically dabbing at her eyes. “I knew he loved her, but this? This is another level.” she says letting out a dreamy sigh. 

They linger, watching as Spencer guides you steadily toward the car with careful patience. He helps you in, crouching to fasten your seatbelt. You’re still mumbling apologies, your voice thick with embarrassment, but Spencer doesn’t falter. Instead, he shrugs off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders even as the mess on his shoes remains. There’s not even a hint of disgust on his face—if anything, he’s focused, caring, murmuring words of reassurance as he tucks his jacket around you. His hand lingers on yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a silent promise that nothing about this has shaken him. 

“I’m so sorry, Spence,” you whisper again, your voice small and heavy with guilt. “I ruined your shoes. And your jacket. And—”

“It’s fine. You’re fine. Besides, I was planning to throw them out anyway.”

You shake your head weakly, your tone petulant even through your embarrassment. “Nooo, don’t throw them out because of me.”

His lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do you suggest I do with them, angel?”

“I’ll wash them,” you declare, your words slow and sleepy.

Spencer raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “You’ll wash them?”

“Mhmm,” you murmur, already halfway to drifting off against the seat.

“How about we get you home first and then worry about the shoes, okay?” he says gently.

“’Kay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as sleep begins to take hold.

Spencer stands, glancing back at the bar where the team is gathered. They’re not even pretending to hide their stares anymore, and he knows he’s going to hear about this for weeks. He raises a hand in a small, sheepish wave before climbing into the driver’s seat.

Derek shakes his head, laughing softly. “He’s gone,” he says, his voice carrying just enough awe to balance the humor. “Kid’s completely gone.”

Emily doesn’t need to ask what he means. Neither does Garcia. Because they’ve seen Spencer look at a thousand things with fascination—books, theories, puzzles, statistics. But this?

This is something else entirely.

The ride home is quiet, save for the occasional slurred apology from you. Spencer reassures you with the same soft patience each time, his hand steady on the wheel and his gaze flickering to you every so often, checking to make sure you’re okay. By the time he gets you home, your protests have faded, replaced by the heavy pull of exhaustion.

His arm remains firm around your waist, steadying you as he helps you inside, careful and methodical in the way he moves. He guides you to the bathroom, where you try to freshen up, fumbling with the faucet and splashing water on your face. Spencer steps in without hesitation and takes over when your movements falter. His touch is featherlight, but there’s no mistaking the care in every movement. The closeness makes your cheeks flush, though whether it’s from lingering embarrassment or something else entirely, you’re too tired to decipher.

“You don’t have to,” you murmur, your words sluggish but sincere.

“Of course I do,” he replies, his voice light but firm. “I want to.” 

He guides you to the bedroom with careful steps, his hand steady on the small of your back. Once there, he sets a glass of water on the nightstand, the gentle clink breaking the quiet.

“Drink,” he coaxes softly, his tone patient but firm.

You take the glass without protest, sipping obediently. Spencer watches, a small smile tugging at his lips. He considers making a playful comment about how quickly you’re drinking it now—so much easier than earlier—but he decides against it.

You’ve been through enough tonight, he thinks.

When he finally tucks you into bed, you’re too tired to resist. You mumble something incoherent, your hand brushing his as he leans in. Spencer pauses, his gaze lingering on your face—peaceful now, the traces of the evening’s mishaps melting away. He presses a light kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for just a moment longer than necessary.

Spencer steps out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough to hear you if you call out. He lingers in the hallway for a moment, his shoulders sagging slightly now that the night’s adrenaline has begun to wane. He glances down at his shoes—still damp and stained. With a resigned sigh, he makes his way to the kitchen, grabbing a plastic bag. He slips the shoes inside, tying the bag tightly before heading outside. The cold air bites at his skin as he steps toward the dumpster behind his building.

He stands there for a moment, holding the bag. The sight of the shoes, oddly enough, makes him smile. It’s ridiculous, he knows. They’re just shoes. Ruined, stained, completely unsalvageable. But they’re also a reminder of tonight—a reminder of how he’d taken care of you, how you’d let him take care of you. 

With a soft thud, the bag lands in the dumpster. Spencer dusts off his hands, turning back toward the building. When Spencer steps back into his apartment, the soft hum of the heater greets him, a gentle reminder of the warmth waiting inside. And there you are, standing in his shirt in the doorway of his bedroom. Spencer thinks it's a sight he'll never get tired of.

There's a pout tugging at your lips. “Where’d you go?” you ask, your voice thick with sleep and just a hint of a whine.

“Had to throw out the shoes angel,” he says as he steps into the kitchen to wash his hands.

Your gasp is exaggerated like he’s just committed an unspeakable betrayal. “I thought I told you I’d wash them!” you exclaim, your voice rising. 

“And I thought I tucked you into bed,” Spencer counters, his laugh soft and full of affection. “Why are you out of bed sweetheart?”

You shuffle closer, blinking up at him with drowsy eyes. “Missed you,” you say simply, your earlier outrage regarding the shoes already forgotten. “Wanna cuddle.”

Spencer’s expression softens, but he gestures to his clothes. “I’m dirty,” he reminds you gently, “Outside clothes, remember?”

“Change then,” you reply stubbornly, tugging at his sleeve as though that’s the simplest solution in the world.

“I need to shower first,” he says, his voice patient as he begins to guide you back toward the bedroom.

“I didn’t shower either,” you argue, leaning heavily into his side as though that somehow strengthens your case.

“Because you’re drunk,” he replies with a small smile.

“Am not,” you insist, though your tone is far from convincing.

“Wanna tell that to my shoes?” Spencer teases, raising a brow.

You ignore him, brushing past his comment with a huff. “You’ll take too long,” you complain, your bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you too,” he replies, his voice tinged with amusement as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then cuddle,” you plead, your tone slipping into that sing-song quality you know he can’t resist. “Pleaseee”

Spencer hesitates, the logical part of him warring with the sight of you—soft, vulnerable, and looking at him like he hung the stars. He knows you’re usually the enforcer of the outside-clothes rule, a stickler for order when sober. But right now, you’re anything but sober, and he can’t find it in himself to deny you.

“Pleaseee,” you say again, drawing out the word for emphasis, “I’ll buy you new shoes,” your eyes wide and imploring.

He knows you probably will.

“Enough about the shoes,” Spencer rolls his eyes fighting back a smirk, “Just help me change the sheets tomorrow,” he relents, his voice warm with affection.

He knows you probably won’t. But he lets you drag him toward the bed anyways.

You beam, looping your arms around his waist in triumph. “Knew you wouldn’t say no,” you mumble into his chest.

Spencer laughs softly as you settle against him, burying your face in his chest with a soft, muffled sigh. He feels his heart swell in a way he can’t quite put into words. He’s never been one for mess—for dirt, grime, or anything out of place. Heck, he hadn't even wanted to shake your hand the first time he met you. It’s in his nature to keep things neat, orderly, clean. But now, with you?

His shoes could be ruined, his clothes crumpled, and the night an absolute whirlwind. And still, all he can think about is how peaceful you look now, your eyelids fluttering shut as sleep starts to claim you.

Spencer presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles along your back.

For you and only you, he thinks, he’d make an exception every time.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While (5)

Summary: Terry and Patrice enjoy each other with the promise of bright future.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 4.9k

Part: 5 of 5

Warnings: Smut (18+), NSFW

A/N: Thanks so much for joining me on this ride. I hope the journey turns out to be worth it.

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four.

“Uh, my name is Terry, I’m from North Carolina, and I wanna dedicate this one to my lady over there in the orange dress. You look good, girl.” 

“Oh no.”

“Sing your song, baby!”

A mix of encouragement and admiration at Terry’s public display of affection rang out in a poorly lit karaoke bar in the French Quarter. Liquor, good food, and good people were the perfect mix for a good time with the vestiges of Summer break rapidly slipping away. Terry stood on stage with a goofy grin and low eyes, pointing everyone toward his favorite audience member. 

Patrice had never been so embarrassed in her life. When she’d dared him to do something crazy on the last night of their spontaneous vacation, she thought he’d finally get that tattoo of her name on his ribs like he promised way back when. Singing in front of a crowd of rowdy strangers wasn’t on her bingo card.

Her hands covered her mouth to muffle her near-uncontrollable laughter. 

Terry couldn’t sing. At least not well enough to give a tipsy rendition of Patrice’s favorite Usher record. She still remembered forcing Terry to listen to Raymond v. Raymond over and over again in her cramped bedroom, many times not getting past Track 3 without gushing over how she hoped to marry the R&B heartthrob one day. Terry secretly carried a deep disdain for Usher up until his mid-20s, but couldn’t dodge the memories any time “There Goes My Baby” would play and take him right back to that cramped bedroom with his dream girl. 

He started just as Patrice expected. Though he knew the words like the back of his hand, his pitchy tenor was a far cry from the vocals needed to properly serenade an audience. He didn’t care though. As long as he could pull a belly laugh from Patrice he’d make a fool of himself in public every time. 

Between the second verse and bridge, Terry decided to take his antics up a notch. He abandoned the stage to make a beeline for Patrice with the mic in hand for a personal show. She was sure to play into the bit with playful hoops and fake screams between giggles. When he was close enough to touch, she pretended to fangirl like she was front row at one of Usher’s Vegas shows. 

“Baby, lovin’ you feels better than everything, anything. Put it on my heart, you gon’ get a ring,” he sang, spontaneously remixing the lyrics so far off-key that, if not for the levity of the ordeal, he’d surely offend every music lover in a 50-mile radius. “And I promise, our time away didn’t change my love.” 

Completely enamored with the absurdity of the moment, Patrice ran her fingertips across Terry’s abdomen underneath his shirt like a crazed fan and winked. Terry acknowledged the dangerous line she was toeing by flashing her a flirtatious grin to match the seductive sparkle in his eyes. 

Their connection overrode Terry’s awful singing performance enough for the crowd to show support through an assortment of cheers and supportive hollers only a city full of spirited Black people could provide. 

Always the perfect gentleman, Terry bid Patrice farewell for a moment with a peck on the cheek before returning to the stage to cap a truly unexpected performance and receive thunderous applause. 

“Oooo-weee. That’s your man, love? I’m talking official official?” The middle-aged tourist’s question and her thick accent interrupted Patrice’s daydreaming while she watched Terry’s every move with part of her bottom lip caught by her top row of teeth. 

“Yeah,” she answered, finally tearing her gaze away to acknowledge the woman while fiddling with the opal necklace he’d gifted her at dinner. It was the necklace symbolizing their first real date and the end of their friends only arrangement. “That’s him. Ain’t he somethin’?” 

“Somethin’ ain’t the word. I might need to head on up to North Carolina and get me one of them. My God today!” 

“He’s got a cute little single friend out in Percyville if you down with our Asian brothers. Former Marine too.” 

“You got a picture?” 

The two women fell into conversation about Ken’s availability while Patrice waited for Terry to rejoin her side. He soon returned with two shots of tequila in hand and a smile fighting to be freed from behind his poker face. 

“What was that about,” he asked, nodding at the woman who’d begun to show her friends photos of her potential beau as he placed a shot in front of Patrice.

“Might’ve gotten Ken somebody to take him out of the streets. You know he like ‘em thick and fine.” 

“I taught my boy a few things.” He used the hand closest to Patrice to breach the split in her dress and grip her inner thigh. He maintained contact, waiting for her to get shy and shoo him away. 

But she didn’t. She met his show of dominance with one of her own and crossed her legs to keep him in place, keeping him close to the pulse at her center. Two could play the secret foreplay game.

“What’s that about,” she asked, pointing at his gift of top-shelf reposado and ignoring the flutter in her stomach once he began rubbing slow circles on the top of her thigh with his thumb.

He smirked. “A little something to toast with.” 

“Oooh. What’re we celebrating?” 

“Being free, being together, and…” He lifted his shot glass, prompting Patrice to follow suit. 

“And what, TJ! C’mon!” 

“And…I got the job.” He followed his surprise by taking his shot, finishing with a quiet laugh while watching Patrice sit in unblinking shock. He squeezed her thigh again. “Don’t let me drink alone now. Bottoms up.” 

Shock gave way to a soft squeal and tiny, animated hand claps before Patrice took her gulp of tequila. Excitement had her rushing to swallow so that she could pull Terry into a series of quick kisses across his face. 

“I’m proud of you,” she complimented against his lips. “Tell me about it.” 

She stole another kiss to taste the remnants of buffalo sauce and alcohol on Terry’s tongue. He let her explore uninhibited until she’d had enough. If she wanted to put on a show, he’d be a willing participant. Even more so in the privacy of the Airbnb that belonged them to until sunrise.

The sexual tension had reached a tipping point and the clock was ticking. Images of her body beneath his were starting to be the only thoughts Terry could concoct.

Terry’s face was completely flushed, usually even caramel skin now red from lust and one too many drinks. A slow, tipsy grin put all his teeth on display before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“We can talk about that later. Can we get out of here right now, though.” 

“Yeah? Why?” 

Patrice assumed they were having a good time with at least one more stop on their self-guided nightlife tour. His eagerness to abandon plans was uncharacteristic. 

Terry continued to smile then leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I really wanna make you cum tonight. You been waiting too long.”

A shiver hit Patrice’s spine as she tried to maintain some level of composure in a room full of people. Terry easily pushed her thighs open to free his hand, being sure to brush against her lower lips with the tips of his fingers. 

Terry didn’t need to speak when he stood to pull her chair back from the table. Patrice allowed him to tug her to her feet and out of the bar, waving goodbye to her new friend who gave her a congratulatory thumbs up. 

However, any morsel of confidence she had while they made out like teenagers in the backseat of a taxi had waned once they reached their dwelling for the night and the reality of their situation set in. 

Their first time together was her first time. She was young with too many influences in her ear telling her that the only way to make a man love her was through her body. No matter how many times Terry assured her that they could spend that truly imporable hour of alone time in her hotel room catching up, she insisted that they test the boundaries of their affection. 

Now, with history repeating itself, she couldn’t help but feel a deep pit of nervousness and uncertainty growing in her belly. 

Patrice stood in the bathroom mirror, tussling with her hair that had gone from pressed roots to a mess of frizz and curled ends. She suddenly hated the way her cotton slip dress fit and how the lace bra and panty set seemed to bunch in all the wrong places. The only thing she wanted to do was look like the woman of his dreams, but her confidence was waning with every second she spent judging her appearance while Terry waited patiently in the bedroom. Frustration was building and bringing the sting of fresh tears to her eyes.

On the other side of the door, Terry spent his time adjusting and readjusting the pillows on the bed. His bare back and shoulders glistened under the soft, warm light emanating from the floor lamp across the room, partially from the heat, but mostly from sheer nervousness. 

“What the fuck are you doing,” he whispered to himself, suddenly embarrassed. 

Terry forced himself to take a seat at the edge of the bed to calm his nerves. The last time he’d been on the brink of having her in this way, he was a young man with no clue how to love a woman. Now, all he wanted to do was prove that he’d earn every morsel of her trust back if she let him. 

He never told Patrice that their first time was his first time. He was scared out of his mind, wanting to give in to his fantasies but afraid to send the wrong impression. The memory of that summer afternoon never left him. But, it was time to start anew with a title and the promise of a different result on the horizon.

Taking a deep breath, Terry wiped his sweaty palms against the soft fabric of his briefs and sighed. 

“You okay in there,” he called out, concerned as the minutes ticked by with no communication. “I don’t wanna rush you. Just checking in. Tell me to leave you alone if I’m doing too much.” 

“I’m okay. One second. I’m fixin’ my hair.”

“Take your time. I’m sure you look…”

The soft sound of the door opening stopped Terry mid-sentence. Patrice stepped out, one foot in front of the other, until she was past the threshold and under his doting gaze. 

“...gorgeous,” he finished, the word coming out in one breath. “You are absolutely gorgeous, Treece.” 

Patrice had decided on a bun on top of her head with tendrils in the front and back that couldn’t quite reach the rest of her hair. She’d traded her light makeup for a bare face still glowing from her nighttime skin routine. Her slip dress clung and dipped in all the right places without the lace from her lingerie interrupting the smooth fabric. She looked at him through long lashes, her expression reading as the same timid girl from all those years ago.

Terry stood to his full height in reverence of her breathtaking form. The most skilled artists and creators from around the world couldn’t have dreamt of a more captivating marvel in his opinion. She was the pinnacle of beauty. 

Patrice watched him draw closer, her head slowly tilting up as he began to dwarf her with his stature. He reached out to trace her jaw before lightly gripping her chin between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey, yourself.”

Goofy smiles and giggles followed their awkward introduction to ease the anxious energy in the room.

“Is Terrence James Richmond nervous behind little ol’ me,” she teased with a tickle to his sides. 

“I got a few butterflies, I’m not gon’ lie,” he laughed. “Just wanna make you happy, is all.” 

“I was gonna say the same to you.” 

“You have no idea how happy you make me.” 

His voice came in just above a whisper, nearly drowned out by the chirping of crickets outside. 

Their noses brushed against each other as Patrice stood on her tip-toes to rest her arms around his neck. Her fingers traced circles at his nape, making the hair all over his body stand at attention. 

A tentative peck connected their lips and gave way to more needy, hungry kisses that transformed them into eager teenagers making out for the thrill of physical contact. 

Euphoria wasn’t enough to explain Terry’s headspace. He was high off every kiss, lick, and bite Patrice allowed. He couldn’t get close enough. It wasn’t sufficient to pull her closer with a firm grasp on her ass. He needed to taste her, to be consumed by her, to consume her in every way possible. 

“Put me to work. Tell me what you need,” he whispered, breathless as blood began to rush south from the slight pain of Patrice’s fingernails digging into his shoulder blades. 

“You. Fold me, bend me, flip me, I don’t care. I just need you.” 

Patrice was far beyond playing coy. She’d drop to her knees and beg at his feet if he asked. Whatever she had to do to feel him from the inside was on the table. 

Terry didn’t make Patrice go to extremes for his affection. He preferred to acknowledge her request by carefully sliding the straps of her dress down her shoulders and arms. 

He watched her skin become more and more exposed with intense focus, taking note of the way her nipples seemed to salute him once they met the bedroom air. He acknowledged both of them with a soft caress that earned a whimper from Patrice as she watched him handle her with care.

Never in her life had been methodically unwrapped like a present on Christmas morning. Her heartbeat had gone below her waist, throbbing in an almost painful cry for her lover’s attention. Terry kept her yearning at bay with a slow kiss while he pushed her garment past her hips and to the floor. 

Patrice disrobed him with an equal measure of care, offering quick kisses across the expanse of his chest while she slid her hand past his Calvin Klein waistband. Round, doe eyes looked back up at him to catch the precise moment when Terry’s eyelids blinked closed from the sensation of her fingertips brushing past his sensitive tip. 

Her soft palms worked his shaft - up and down, up and down - until his member was proud and bobbing from the weight of itself without something keeping it at bay. 

Fearing what might happen if he let her continue, Terry pulled her back to his body for sensual openmouthed kisses on her full lips. The soft smack of their lips and tongues created perfect harmonies in the still room, communicating more desire than either of them could effectively vocalize. 

The intensity began to rise at exponential rates, sending them in a clumsy frenzy to the bed for somewhere stable to fully experience one another. Terry’s back hit the cool cotton sheets first with Patrice collapsing on top with a surprised yelp that made them both laugh.

“Don’t fight it,” Terry instructed, pushing a stray piece of hair from her face while he stared up at her lovingly. “Let go. I got you.”

His reassurance made her heart do a backflip on the way to its new home between her legs. She needed him in the worst way.

Terry leaned up to kiss her lips once, twice, and once more to linger. His fingertips traced a blazing path from her waist to the bottom of her ass to partially push her forward in a silent plea to kiss her where he missed her most. 

“Let me taste you. Is that okay?” 

Something about the way he asked for permission with eyes those stormy eyes robbed Patrice of her ability to respond with words. He prompted her to move forward again with a soft tap on her backside, finally convincing her to lift her hips and scoot toward his face. 

Cautiously, she hovered above his mouth with thick thighs flanking either side of his head. 

He moved slow with sweet kisses and lazy licks to mix spit with her wetness in a one-sided love song to his favorite girl. He was effortlessly sexy, combining broad strokes of his tongue between her lips with expertly timed sucks at her clit to elicit filthy words that fueled his best oral performance yet.

He ignored every plea for mercy and her cries for a break to compose herself. There was only one objective. Two if he were lucky to push her into a water show for the ages. 

Animalistic instinct had them trading moans in time with each other, fully in throws of passion. Every grind against his nose and call of his name made Terry want to show her the full extent of his skill. 

His face glistened beneath her with his eyes still low but open enough to get the full visual of her undoing.

“Terry, that is - oh…shit.” 

Full sentences became senseless babble as she clamped her eyes shut to brace for that familiar feeling pooling in the pit of her belly. Patrice struggled to maintain focus on herself while Terry enjoyed his new favorite meal. 

The velvety smoothness of his tongue took broad passes from her entrance to her clit, stopping every so often to chase wetness that had escaped to her thighs. He wanted every drop and then some. 

His moans and groans as he feasted vibrated against her most sensitive spots, turning her mind into television static. Seeing her unravel with every soft suckle at her clit and agonizingly slow, broad lick across her swollen lips drove him to near-obsessive levels of lust. 

Her chest heaved in a fight to keep her heart rate level as his efforts to make her cum for the first time became more targeted. 

“Fuck, baby” she moaned, finally taking a look down to watch the master in his element. “Look at you. You gon’ make me cum, huh?”

Terry seemed to smile at her admiration. If he could get her to talk back, her eventual undoing when all was said and done would be that much more satisfying. 

Taking her challenge, he began to push her to her limit. She was putty in his mouth as he brought her closer and closer to the edge, soft sucking turning into a talented tongue making moans devolve into nonsensical utterings until she was squirming for release while his arms kept her locked in place for a wild ride.

Almost there. Almost there. Then a brief pause to start from the top. More lazy passes and passionate kisses to rev her up to the point of delirium and practically screaming to finish. 

Just when she thought she may have to threaten him on the third revolution of his torture, he delivered on his promise from the bar. 

Colors emitted smells. Sounds became vivid pictures across her eyes. She could taste the stars as she erupted in a way she’d never done before. The prickle of his facial hair on sensitive skin felt like shockwaves on her skin. 

“Oh fuuuuck! Yesyesyes!” 

Her hips jerked without her permission, taking Terry’s face on the ride of his life. He kept up through it all with no objections. If death came from her thighs cutting him off from the oxygen needed to breathe he’d wear death like a badge of honor in the afterlife.

Another string of expletives fell from her lips in tandem with Terry’s muffled groan as she gripped the sheets below her for dear life. This was Heaven. She was sure of it. 

Terry took one last deep inhale with his nose pressed against her pussy before kissing along the warm skin of Patrice’s inner thigh while she came down. She caressed what she could reach of his head in appreciation and beckoned him to release his suction on her pussy. 

She rushed to get back to his lips to taste herself on his mouth and he welcomed her with open arms. 

Kissing. Grinding. Skin-to-skin friction. None of it was enough for Terry. He desperately needed to be inside her to satisfy the near-painful stiffness he was experiencing. 

His attempt to flip Patrice on her back was futile once she pressed her weight into his legs to keep him in place. He roughly nipped at her shoulder before trying again with the same result. 

“C’mon,” he pleaded, almost begging for the go-ahead to fill her to the hilt in one smooth motion.

Still, she denied him pleasure. Patrice shifted to straddle his waist, slowly dragging her hands up and down his torso while his stomach clenched from the warmth of her core on his body. 

“Lay back,” she breathed out, partially lifting her hips to reposition herself on top of his length. He hissed at the sensation of her gingerly dragging her wet, warm entrance against his shaft. “I’mma handle this one. Relax, baby.” 

If there was a thought to be had, Terry couldn’t piece it together to save his life once Patrice completely enveloped him inside her slick walls. His jaw tightened then fell slack once she began to work her magic. A slow bounce and grind combination in his lap kept her breast rolling in a lewd show with Terry as the lucky winner of a front row ticket. 

Patrice kept her head thrown back like a cowgirl, feeling perspiration gather on her forehead while he gave him all she had. His hands giving her firm smacks on the hip and ass acted as a round of applause each time she buried him deep and pulled back up with expert precision. 

Her right hand slid from its spot on his chest to his throat for a barely there squeeze just as a quiet gasp made her aware of another incoming orgasm. 

The feel of her thumb gripping his esophagus made Terry expel a sound that he wasn’t aware he could make, somewhere between a whimper and a growl awakening each of his senses. 

The sight brought him the beautiful visual of her eyes shut tightly in concentration while she glowed like a heavenly body from the lamp’s light. Her hair had slipped out of its bun, leaving a lion’s mane of coils to toss wildly in the wind. 

Smell brought with it the earthy scent of sweat and the lingering musk of her pussy. A smell that could awaken a deep longing in him in even the direst circumstances. If he could bottle it and wear it as fragrance, he’d do so proudly just to have her with him at all times.

Hearing pulled in the sound of their skin slapping together in time with the intermingling moans in the room. He’d never been so loud before, so unabashedly in the moment with another woman. He cursed, called her name, and praised her with equal ferocity. 

Touch was satisfied by the handful of ass he used to ease the stress on her thighs while she bucked wilder than ever before. 

Something akin to a growl erupted from his throat as he strained to hold back release. “You doing so good for me, baby. You know I love you right?” 

“Yes!” she cried out, hips starting to sputter out of control with Terry gently stretching her on every stroke. 

He wrapped his arms around her waist tighter as he fucked into her in search of their shared release. She sagged forward for the ride, her brain turning into mush while her mouth hung open with no sounds.

“Good.” His voice came through clenched teeth. “Because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.” 

She put up no resistance as he paused his pounding to flip her onto her back with a dancer's grace. Having her laid out beneath him, body open, leaking, and waiting for him was as exciting as the first time. He was reinvigorated. Any onset of sore muscles and tired hips was gone the moment she keened for his attention. 

Terry’s eyes were blown wide with excitement while he decided where to put his mouth first. He quickly settled on one of her legs, slowly lifting it by the ankle to lick and kiss the birthmark by her Achilles. His tongue traced an invisible map past her heel, to her pedicured toes, and back to her calf before closing his lips to cap his display of affection. He propped the leg on his shoulder and then pressed forward to bring his chest down over hers. 

Patrice’s small mewls from the burning in her hamstrings became caught in Terry’s mouth as searched her mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. Her whining grew louder still once his tip pressed past her entrance.

“You can take it,” he affirmed, pushing deeper. “I know you can. I’m so proud of you.”

Affirmations and appreciative pecks across her face overrode aching muscles. She wanted, needed, to please him. 

They released content sighs in tandem once they were pelvis to pelvis. A snug fit made every long stroke intoxicating as Terry set an even pace. 

The repeated squeak of the bed added to their symphony of sounds growing more rabid by the second. They were off to the races on the way to an explosive finish line. 

Terry was relentless as he kept her in place for a proper and precise fuck that reached all the way to her heart. She’d begun thinking up baby names and nursery themes when he split his attention between earth-shattering penetration and the addition of his thoughtful stimulation of her clit to cover all bases. She was just along for the ride and hoping that she could keep her volume at a reasonable level when the inevitable took over. 

Patrice was the first to cum just as Terry intended. Her back arched off the bed in near levitation while she called his full name and the Lord’s to the ceiling.

“That’s what I like, beautiful. Give me everything.” 

He smiled down at his work, obsessed with the sight and sounds of her much-deserved orgasm. She couldn’t hold back if she wanted to. Wetness coated both of them as her hips circled to feel him fill her to the brim while a rush of endorphins flowed through her nervous system.

At the crest of her wave is where he came undone. 

The involuntary clinching sent Terry into a tailspin of frenetic strokes and broken sentences with his face tucked firmly into Patrice’s neck. She comforted him through it all, speaking directly into the shell of his ear and punctuating every few words with a soft kiss. 

“I wanna do this for the rest of our lives. Don’t you want that, baby?” Terry forwent a verbal answer in favor of a short grunt as his pace became erratic. “Fill me up. Let’s try for that son you used to tell me about.” 

“Fuck, Treece.” 

“Maybe we’ll name him after you. He’ll have my eyes and your smile, hm. Think you can do that for me tonight. I know you wanna cum. Do it for me, baby. Go ahead.” 

The magic words. He came with a gruff groan and a slew of profane words that would otherwise be offensive to any outside of the bubble they’d created in those walls. His toes cramped, eyelids clamped shut, and ears rang while every breath came out shaky and labored. Patrice joined him throughout the ride until he returned to the Earth’s atmosphere. 

Neither of them moved, preferring to hear the other’s steady in and out while their chests rose and fell together. 

“One year,” Terry started, keeping his attention focused on bringing Patrice’s ring finger to his lips as he lay on her chest. 

She paused the imaginary circles she was drawing on his shoulders and looked down at him. “One year what?” 

“Gimme a year and you’ll be coming down the aisle or standing in front of the judge, whichever one you want. Where you wanna honeymoon?” 

“Mmm, how about Puerto Rico?” 

“Done. Summer wedding?”

“Early fall.” 

“10-4.” 

“Yeah,” Patrice questioned, giggling. “And what else? What’s next?” 

 “Making our parents grandparents, hopefully. I’m trynna be an honest man. Take me out the streets, please!” 

Patrice’s cackle at Terry’s antic invited him to join at full volume. “An honest man, huh? I can do that for you. I’ll make an honest man out of Terrence Richmond, no problem. It’s the least I could do.��� 

“Mhmm.” Regaining some strength in his body, Terry kissed his way from her chest to her mouth, only stopping when he had her arching into him for more contact. He spoke with his nose pressed to hers. “Patrice Nicole Richmond. Sounds good, right?” 

“Sounds perfect.” 

Terry hummed his approval, preferring to get back to the worship he had planned from the moment they set off to New Orleans.

Every second in their lives, together and apart, had brought them to a new beginning that neither of them could’ve imagined. If tonight was day one of forever, they vowed before each other and God to make it glorious one day at a time. 

Terry had lost a lot. Money, family, himself. But under the white glow of a full moon and the touch of the one he cherished most, he’d gained so much more. Something he’d been searching for without the word to call it by its name until he got back to her front step one afternoon.

Love.

----

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[dearsnow]

TAKE A BITE

- your best friends challenge you to bring the hottest guy at the bar home, and you can’t manage to say no. (jake “hangman” seresin x fem!reader, random original female characters for plot purposes, ⚠️ alcohol, 18+!! adult content, p in v, jake being a sweetheart for once, I’M BEGGING PLEASE BE 18)

word count: 3,033

a/n - dipping my toe into the adult writing scene for once 😚 i have no idea if this is good or not bc my only experience is one commission i did a long time ago and a half-finished fic from a year ago, so i hope it’s satisfactory. jake is also an unexpected visitor but everyone has their moments <3

“So…” Kaiya drawls, drawing along the rim of her condensation-covered glass, “because no one here seems to want to put themselves out there,” there’s a pointed glance at you, “I propose a challenge.”

Sandy squints at her suspiciously. Kaiya always comes up with the most outrageous schemes, usually drawing in you and the rest of your friend group. “What are you thinking?” She asks.

Kaiya’s manicured nail taps on the table. “We each pick a guy, one that individual thinks is the hottest at the bar— first come first serve, of course. And then we take them home. Anyone that’s successful gets next week’s drinks paid for by the rest of us.”

You roll your eyes. She’s a looker, for sure, which is likely the only reason she proposed something like this. She could get with any guy in a hundred mile radius with her luscious black curls and babydoll cheeks. “Are you sure you aren’t just doing this because you don’t want to pay for yourself?”

Kaiya puts one hand to her mouth, eyes widened in comical horror. “I would never! I just want what’s best for my dear friends.” She exclaims, batting her eyes. Sandy laughs in her own charming way. Sandy is cute, sweet. She’d also have no problem taking her pick.

“I want that one.” Kaiya says, pointing at a tall man with shortly cropped curls. From the looks of it, he’s exactly her type; confident, quick-witted, and evidently skilled as he nails a dart throw.

Sandy pretends to squint around the bar before throwing a thumb over her freckled shoulder. “Buzz cut. I like that in a man.” You peer around her, taking in a nice-looking guy with tanned skin.

“And you?” Kaiya asks, reaching out to thumb at the strap of your top. Her small look of concern makes you remember why you’re her friend in the first place.

She’s always looking out for you, always finding opportunities for you to shine when she is so obviously the star. After you broke up with your boyfriend for some unsavory reasons, she resumed her role as your rock. Even now, she wants you to get over what’s in the past. You curse yourself for even considering that she was being selfish.

You look around the crowded bar, eyes scanning over heaps of mildly attractive Navy and civilian men. You’re about to just pick the closest one before your gaze stops on a person who almost immediately takes your breath away. He’s exactly, exactly what you pictured your dream guy to look like.

Kaiya follows your line of sight and smiles. “Let’s get them, tigers.”

“Alright,” You say, standing as your chair creaks from under you, “I’ll take a bite.”

You lean against the cool counter of the bar, smiling at the bartender. The man you picked out has a beer in his hand and a certain swagger in how he scopes out the room. “Could I have one of those, please?” You ask the woman behind the bar, looking pointedly at the guy. She looks at you with a knowing smile, handing you the drink.

“You have good taste.” Your pick says, his voice heavy with a drawl. His green eyes glance down at the drink in your hand, then up to your face. You swear you almost see him lick his lips.

“So do you.” You respond simply. “What’s your name?”

“Jake, but if one of those idiots asks, it’s Hangman.” He nods over to a group of men by the pool table. In a passing flash, you notice the two your friends picked out mingling. How could this one squad have so many attractive people? “I saw you with your friends a bit ago. I have to say, though, you’re more my type. Not that they aren’t nice girls.”

You take a sip of your drink, eyebrows quirked. His arms are basically bulging out of his Navy attire, and you struggle to keep your eyes off of them. Decidedly, you try teasing him, pushing the boundaries of flirting. “You’re my type too. More than the one with the mustache, but he’s not so bad.”

His smile crinkles his eyes, and you think you might swoon. This is good, you tell yourself. It feels good. It’s a bit awkward, with just the slightest bit of tension, but you’re warming up; you just got out of a relationship for god’s sake.

“Trust me, sugar, however good you think he is, I’m better.” He punctuates his sentence with a wink.

You’re drop dead gorgeous, he thinks. Jake meets gorgeous women every day, but not one has made his heart beat just as fast. When you smile up at him through your lashes, he’s done for. Locked, loaded, and done for.

“You’re that confident, hm?” You muse, setting your beer down on the counter. It took a great deal of complacency to not throw yourself at him and wrap yourself in his large hands. He swipes a bead of water off of your bottle, and you think all sorts of things. His fingers dripping, his face hot and sweaty, his hair messed up… you almost melt at the idea. “I think you’re going to have to prove it.”

He holds an arm out to you, and you graciously accept. “I’ll prove it in a million ways, pretty girl. Dance with me and see for yourself.”

Jake leads you to a small area by the jukebox. His palms skim over your waist, pulling you closer but still leaving you aching for more. A song starts playing, one you don’t recognize, but he seems to know exactly how to move to it.

If you’re being totally honest, he’s a really good dancer. And it’s so hot, unbearably so. He doesn’t step on your feet, and he leads your every step without being overpowering. Every song, you seem to get closer and closer until your chest is basically pressed right up against his, and he can still move gracefully.

“How’s this for proof?” He whispers, lips grazing over the shell of your ear. “Rooster’s got moves, but he isn’t half as good as me.”

You push back on his chest gently, raising your eyebrows. “Now I’m starting to think this is just a ploy to get him jealous. Does mustache man get on your nerves that much?” You grin as he takes your hands in his. He rolls his eyes.

“I got the cutest girl in the room all to myself. Who wouldn’t be jealous? The only ploy here is the one where I try and get you to come home with me.”

Your teeth find purchase in your bottom lip, trying to hide your ever-growing smile. You might be getting free drinks more than once. “Buy me a drink and we’ll see how that works out.”

To his credit, Jake seems completely okay with getting to know you before heading out. The conversation is engaging, studded with flirting and genuine curiosity. It’s like he’s hanging on to every word you say, truly attempting to form any sort of connection. Most guys wouldn’t make this effort for a one night stand, especially not someone who looks like they could have a new one every night.

To say he’s beyond saving is an understatement in Jake’s opinion. With every second that goes by, you’re sounding more and more like his dream girl. You like his beer, his favorite place to eat, and you share a few of his hobbies. It’s like a match made in heaven.

As the night progresses, guilt starts eating at the hem of your shirt. The drinks are running low, and the sky is growing dim, and the opportunity to fulfill your challenge is opening up more with every second that ticks by. Do you really want this amazing guy to be a bet?

He stands to leave, offering a hand to help you slip off your bar stool. “Shall we?”

Your hesitation makes him falter just a bit. Jake would be okay with waiting, if he was being honest. Yeah, he’s been semi hard the entire time you ran your finger up and down your drink absentmindedly, but he could take you out on a real date first. One where you stare at him with those pretty eyes and smile your captivating smile.

The feeling takes over as you take in his willingness. “I have something to admit.” You murmur, almost too quiet to pick up over the din of the bar. Luckily for you, he has great hearing.

“Lay it on me, sweet thing. I can take it.” He grins. Your hands find the edges of your shorts and play with the little string on the seam that you’ve been meaning to cut for a few days now.

“I made a stupid agreement with my friends that if I took home the guy I thought was the hottest at the bar, then they’d pay for my drinks next time.” You blurt out. His eyes widen slightly, sending a pang of anxiety through you, before his lips curl up into a smile.

He takes your arms and wraps them around his shoulders, spinning you towards the entrance of the bar. “Well, we wouldn’t want a nice girl like you to pay for her own drinks, huh?”

You arrive at your small house and fumble with the lock while Jake presses hot kisses to your neck. You’re biting back a whimper as the door finally swings open, walking short, hurried steps into the bedroom. His hands are all over you, burning like fire. They’re gripping at your shirt, your waist, the column of your throat, your upper thigh— anywhere he can get ahold of. You pull off your shirt as the back of your knees hit the soft mattress.

Before you can blink, Jake has taken off his shirt too, and his hands are kneading the bottom of your breasts, beneath your lacy bra. “You sure?” He asks. You nod vigorously, unhooking your straps with your fingers, but he just looks down disapprovingly. “With your words, baby.”

“Yes.” You breathe. With that confirmation, he wastes no time.

Your clothes are tossed to some unknown corner of your room. You couldn’t care less about where they ended up, not when Jake is running his fingers over your hardening nipples.

He ghosts over them with just enough pressure to get you cursing. He’s hardly done anything and you can still feel a wetness gathering between your legs. When he moves up, taking your left nipple in his mouth, his bare thigh pressing between yours, a gasp escapes your mouth.

“That good?” He asks. His low voice sends vibrations up your chest, and you utter a quiet confirmation. He pays some attention to your other breast as you practically grind against his thigh, desperate for any sort of friction where you need it most.

He gives you a playful sigh, looking down at your writhing body. You look gorgeous, and knowing that his slight touches are enough to make you squirm is the ego boost of the century. Your eyelashes give a slight flutter at his next words. “Patience. I’ll give you what you want eventually, don’t worry.” His hand slips down and squeezes your thigh encouragingly.

“Now, Jake, please.” You almost whine. It’s embarrassing how well he seems to figure out your body. Even now, he’s kissing his way down your neck, finding every place that heightens your growing arousal. You hook your legs around his waist and rest your arms on the sides of his neck. “I want what I want now.”

It’s amazing how quickly your words travel to his dick. Jake’s roaringly hard, and you can feel it pressing against your inner thigh. You rub your legs up and down, teasing, drawing the most beautiful groan out of his open mouth. You’re going to be the death of him, he thinks.

“You drive a hard bargain, darlin’, and I’m not one to refuse.”

His hands travel down your body, taking time to caress your sides and send shivers up your spine. When he finally reaches the puddle under you, he quirks his eyebrows. “That excited?”

You roll your eyes at him, even though all he can see is the slightest movement of your face. “Get on with it, cowboy.”

He chuckles and places a small kiss on your hipbone. “Yes ma’am.”

He slips one finger inside you, pulling a soft noise from your swollen lips. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts. “Might take you a bit to get used to me.” He curls the finger gently, and you see stars as it brushes up against the spot inside of you that you can’t reach yourself. He’s bigger, stronger, longer, wider. A second finger joins the first, the digits stretching you deliciously.

A pressure begins to build in your stomach as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles. Ah, fuck, he knows what he’s doing. Your hips buck up slightly on top of your mattress, pressing your core into the palm of his hand. “Please.” You squeak.

He frowns, but his pupils are blown up in pure ecstasy. “Well excuse me for trying to give you a good time.” His free hand moves to pinch the curve of your ass lightly. You sit up fully and trail your nails down his back, reveling in the shiver it draws from him. With one smooth motion, you take his cock in your hand and give him a small stroke that has him jolting in his place.

“We can both have a good time if you would put on a condom and fuck me already.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop and consider how needy they sound. They seem to work, though, as he smirks at you and guides your hand up and down his length.

“I’m guessing your dresser drawer is ready for stuff like this?” He asks. You feel your face grow warmer at exactly how right he is as you slide the drawer open and grab one. “Ah, you’ve even got my size. What a responsible girl you are.” His voice comes out as a half laugh, and you try to stifle your own laughter with the palm of your hand.

“I like to be prepared.”

“Might as well throw the smaller ones away after tonight. You’ll only want mine when I’m done with you.” He’s so cocky it’s funny instead of off-putting. You hand him the condom and he rolls it over himself. He has a right to be cocky, you think, with a body like that. All taut muscle and chest hair. When he brings his hand up to the back of your neck to lower you down on your bed, your heart gives a mighty flutter.

“Prove it.” You say, for the second time that night. He gives you a look that says he’s going to prove it more than once, over and over until you’re begging him to keep proving it, then a bit more after that.

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel his tip pressing into your warm entrance. As he pushes forwards slowly, teasingly, you’re suddenly aware of just how big he is. Bigger than anyone you’ve ever felt, and despite how wet you’ve become, it’s a lot to handle. You wince as his length stretches you, waiting for the feeling to shift from uncomfortable to ungodly good.

“You bit off more than you can chew, didn’t you?” Jake teases. “We can stop if you want, just say the word.”

Your steady voice challenges him as you try to pull it together. “Keep going. I can take it.”

He doesn’t know how, but Jake gets impossibly harder. He indulges you, though, leaving small kisses on your cheeks to distract you from the pinching pain. Once he’s completely bottomed out, you breathe a sigh of relief. Then, of course, you notice that it feels good. Really good.

He’s pressed right up against a spot that has you seeing stars, and when he moves, slowly at first, the drag forces a moan from deep in your throat. You feel so full, so complete. His pace picks up, and you close your eyes.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good.” He praises, voice strained. The movement of his hips is delicious. Smooth, quick, deep. When his fingers find his way to your clit, you almost finish right then and there.

You’re panting, breath coming out in hot waves against the nape of Jake’s neck. He shivers at the feeling, pressing closer to you to soak in more of that warmth. “Jake, I’m- I’m gonna…” you trail off, closing your mouth as another whimper tries to sneak out.

“Go for it, sweetness. Let me hear that pretty voice.”

With one, two, three more strokes, you feel the knot within you beginning to unravel. Your nails rake down his sides, one of his hands is gripping your waist and the other is firmly attached to your bundle of nerves, and his mouth is suddenly on yours, muffling your noises. It’s overwhelming. With one sharp gasp, you clench down hard and come undone.

Jake follows soon after as he pulls out with a groan. The sound falls heavily on your blissed-out ears.

You sit up, taking his face in your hand. “You’ve proved it. Oh, and I’m officially tonight’s lucky winner.” You say with a beaming smile. He scoffs lightly.

“You were a winner the minute you stepped into that bar.” He winks at you as your hand moves down to rest on his collarbone. “Just let me join in on your winnings when you cash out.”

“In your dreams, cowboy. The most you’ll get is a beer or two before my friends take their cards away.”

He blows a little air out of the side of his mouth before collapsing onto your bed like he owns it, pulling you into his arms. “I’ll take what I can get if it means I can see you again.”

You sigh happily, snuggling into his chest. “Is that a promise?”

“Sure is. The Hard Deck, next Friday. Bring your friends and we’ll figure it out from there.”

Taglist: @seitmai

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Every Light

Summary: The reader is driving along a long stretch of highway when a mysterious stranger on a motorcycle shows up and decides to have some fun with her...

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, implied smut

A/N: This fic takes place post 15x20 (with some canon fixes adjustments). Also, we all know (including Jensen) Every Light is 100% Dean coded, right?

____________

Your fingers tapped against the wheel with one hand, your other hand hung out the window of your car, dancing in the wind. Music blasted through the speakers of your SUV, Ramblin’ Man pouring out as you drove down the long stretch of quiet highway on the bright summer day. The barren Texas flatlands stretched for miles before you, not a single car in sight.

You let your foot go heavy on the pedal, racing across the plains, the warm wind nice across your cheeks. Driving all day from Phoenix to Austin wasn’t exactly fun, but you were in a good mood. A great mood. One of those rare moments of peace and serenity where you just felt still and whole.

You happy little bubble popped when you drove past a crossroads, a slick black motorcycle turning onto the highway behind you. Fuck. It was probably a cop. You’d been making good time too.

You sighed as it came up on you fast, tension rising in your bones as you waited for a siren, lights, something. 

The motorcycle pulled up on your side, crossing the dotted yellow line and keeping pace with you. You turned your head, getting a better view of the bike. Okay, definitely not a police officer. Not unless Texas shelled out for jet black racing bikes with no markings. The rider was in head to toe sleek black leather, tight against his body with padding built in you were sure of. You couldn’t see past his black as night tinted visor. He, and it was most definitely a he based on those shoulders, turned his head toward you before raising his hand, giving you a wave.

You raised your eyebrows behind your aviators. The rider gripped the handlebars again, starting to weave his bike left and right ever so slightly before he straightened again. You tilted your head when he lifted his right hand and signed a simple gesture. 

“Hi.”

Okay…what were the odds some crazed person knew sign language? Probably lower than average and if worst came to worst, you’d just gun it until you hit a town.

You waved back to him, the man sitting up more and returning it. Then he was leaning back even more, popping a wheelie. Your heart skipped as he tore down the highway besides you, only setting the bike down when you flailed your arm for him to get it down on the ground. He finally did so, pointing at himself and looking around when you frowned at him.

“Behave down there!” You shouted out the window, even though he’d never hear it. He simply kept driving next to you, playing as he did so, doing something even more reckless each time he got you to laugh or smile.

But eventually you were coming up on a town and the roads were about to get busier. He made a quick gesture with his hand before taking off ahead of you, getting in front of you in your lane and disappearing down the road.

“Boys,” you mumbled, trying not to think of the last thing he’d signed.

“I had fun, sweetheart. Let’s do it again sometime.”

Six Hours Later

You’d wearily made it to Austin and after a quick shower at your hotel, you headed out to grab dinner at a local bar. 

“Hi,” said a handsome man when he took a seat next to you at the crowded bar top. 

“Hi,” you said politely, returning your gaze to scanning the menu. The stranger's eyes lingered though, your head turning slightly to find a smile on his face. “Can I help you?”

“No, just funny running into you again today.” You raised an eyebrow, the man chuckling. “You do that a lot, don’t you?”

“I’ve never met you before in my life.”

“Darn it,” he said, feigning a sigh. “Here I thought I made an impression. Did I not do enough wheelies?” Then he signed, “Sweetheart,” with his hand, flashing you a wink.

Your eyes went wide, the man smirking. “You! That was completely reckless.”

“So was going a hundred down the highway, rebel,” he teased. He turned his body to face you, smiling hard. “You’re telling me I wasn’t the best part of your day?”

“You’re a menace,” you said, picking up your drink.

“And that wasn’t a denial.” He waved down the bartender, pointing at your drink and holding up two fingers. “So. You like me better as the silent mysterious type with a helmet over my face?”

You rolled your eyes, taking the new drink. “It takes more than a pretty face to win me over, babe.”

“How about a ride on it?” You blinked. 

“A ride on your…” you swallowed, the man chuckling.

“My bike. Although you are more than welcome to ride anything of mine you like,” he said. You scoffed, ignoring the fact you hadn’t been with anyone in far, far too long and here was a man handsome as sin offering himself up to you. “Alright. I pushed too far. My apologies.”

“…Why do you know sign language?” you asked.

“My sister in law is deaf. I actually just became an uncle,” he said with a proud smile. “I had to finish up some work before heading back home for good. I’m going be a firefighter actually.”

He looked so…boyish for a moment that you smiled at his genuine pride.

“Good for you,” you said. “I’m just passing through myself. My old friend just had a baby up north.”

“So what’s to stop you from cutting loose tonight? I’ll even pay for dinner like a proper gentleman.” You glanced away, the man tilting his head when your eyes darted back. “I promise to be as well or badly behaved as you want.”

You looked him up and down, the man still sporting those boots and padded pants. 

Oh fuck it. 

“I ain’t getting on the back of that bike without a helmet.” His grin turned devilish, even when you held up a finger. “Calm down, big boy. Let’s see how you last through dinner.”

“You holding on tight?” asked Dean nearly two hours later when you were on the outskirts of the city. Only Dean. Tonight was a one time thing and that meant no last names, no histories, just plain old fun.

“Yeah, why?” you asked when he chuckled beneath you.

“Cause I’m gonna blow your mind, sweetheart.” He revved the engine and took off like a bat out of hell, going faster and faster, so fast your heart was in your throat. “Here we go!”

“What are you-“ You screeched when he popped a wheelie with you on the back, setting it down after only a few seconds. “Dean!”

“More you say?” Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Morning,” mumbled Dean, a kiss pressed against your temple. You groggily opened your eyes, the clock flashing that it was ten. You felt him pull the sheets up over your bare back, Dean running a hand over your head. “Wake up beautiful. You need a shower before you check out.”

“Yeah,” you yawned, sitting up in bed, watching him dress. He smirked as you openly eyed his body, Dean cupping your cheeks in his hands when he finished. “One night, right?”

“You deserve better than me, Y/N. You’ll find him someday. Until then though, just know you are the best I’ve ever had.”

“You say that to all the girls,” you laughed, Dean smiling.

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” he said, kissing you once more. “Careful driving today.”

“You too. And don’t flirt with girls like that anymore. You’ll kill yourself on that bike.”

“Only flirt with you, got it,” he said. You playfully punched his arm, Dean letting your hands linger one last moment before pulling away. “In a another life, sweetheart.”

“Bye, Dean.”

You hadn’t planned on getting such a late start to the day but your night with Dean had been worth it. In a way, you wished you’d forced the issue and gotten his number at the very least. Sure, the motorcycle ride and sex were great but he was good company, funny and silly but something grounded to him that let you know you were safe with him. Eileen was always on you about living a life more outside of hunting and now that you’d officially retired, you were about to start living it more.

Including telling her all about your wonderful hookup.

You pulled up outside a house in Lawrence in the suburbs just after seven, barely up the front steps before the front door opened and Eileen hopped out, pulling you into a big hug.

“I missed you too,” you laughed, giving her a big squeeze, holding on tight. While you’d talked, you hadn’t been able to see her in person since she came back from the dead and this reunion was long overdue. “Come on, let me see the baby.”

“He just went down for bedtime. But he will happily see you in the morning,” she said, taking your hand and dragging you inside. “We just got the grill going out back.”

“Good. I’m starving and miss your burgers,” you said, letting her have another round of hugs with you. “Well if I can’t see the babe yet, you gotta let me meet your husband.”

“You know he has a brother that’s single,” she grinned, taking you through the house and to the back deck where a very tall man worked over a grill. “Sam! Y/N’s finally here!”

“Well it’s about time,” he said, picking you up in a hug. He smiled gently as he set you down. “I’m so happy Eileen has a friend in town.”

“Maybe you guys can give me advice on how the whole retirement thing works. I’ve just been traveling around aimlessly the past few months,” you said, taking a beer when Eileen offered it.

“You’ll figure it out,” said Sam, the rumble of an engine on the street out front echoing through the yard. 

“That’ll be his very single brother,” said Eileen. You rolled your eyes. “Oh come on, he hunted too! You guys would so get along now that you’re both retired.”

“I’ve dated other hunters and it never worked out, thank you very much,” you said.

“You’re lucky I managed to grab the last bag of franks,” said an all too familiar voice. You spun around, Dean, your Dean from last night, standing right in front of you wearing jeans and a white plain t-shirt. He dropped the package of hot dogs, both of you staring at the other. 

“I told you he was good looking!” joked Eileen.

“You?” asked Dean.

“You’re Dean fucking Winchester?” you asked, raising your eyebrows.

“You’re Y/N Y/L/N, Eileen’s bestie?” You both nodded, Sam picking up the package and looking at you both like you were nuts.

“Uh, do you two know each other?” asked Sam.

“Some would say intimately,” said Dean. 

“We’ll be right back,” you said, grabbing his bicep, ignoring the strength in it as you dragged him down the steps and around the corner of the house. You stared at him, Dean running a hand through his hair. “I thought you were a fireman!”

“I’m about to start my training. I was in Phoenix, cleaning up one last job but…someone had already fixed the sigils,” he mumbled. “You?”

“Yes, me,” you said, closing your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “I worked out of Washington mostly. Eileen asked if I would clean up a sigil on my way down here. I-I’m staying here for a bit to help with the baby while I find a place in town.”

“So you’re that friend of hers…” he trailed off, eyes darting around your face. His lips parted but no words escaped them. An unpleasant crack tore through your heart. Gone was the happy go lucky flirt from twelve hours ago. Instead a man filled with horrors beyond imagination stood before you, a desperation in his eyes that made your skin crawl. 

“You were wrong back at the hotel.” He shook off whatever thoughts were running through his mind, confusion entering the forefront of his mind. “This morning you said I deserved better than you.”

“You do,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m-”

“Dean Winchester. I’ve heard about you. We all have,” you said softly, taking one of his hands in yours. He swallowed, closing his eyes. “You deserve the world and I’m not just saying that because of last night. You more than did your part.”

“I’m not the guy from last night. I am severely fucked up-”

“Oh get in line, Winchester.” He blinked rapidly, brows furrowing. “You think you’re the only one with daddy issues and who’s died and seen the shit hunters do? No, you’re not. There’s plenty of us who have. I retired because of you. I retried because Eileen told me her friends the Winchesters saved us all and I could quit. I should quit. She told me to live my life. So you and me? We’re going to live our lives as fucked up as we are. And last night…fuck, I had fun. You had fun. I forgot about the nightmares and I think you did too. You think Eileen and your brother aren’t as screwed up as us? Of course they are but they aren’t scared to do the hard thing and move on. So why not us too? It doesn’t have to be together but-”

“Shut up,” he said, slamming his lips to yours. It was hard, rough. Something possessive underneath the surface that had you sucking in air when he pulled back, tugging your bottom lip along the way. 

“Kissing me won’t make me shut up, Winchester,” you breathed, Dean ghosting over your lips, cradling a hand against the back of your neck to keep you close. “We aren’t strangers anymore. You want more, you got to give me more.”

“You want a visitors pass to the insane asylum in my head?” he laughed dryly.

“Visitor pass? Honey, I live there, just a different ward is all.” He flashed his eyes open, green orbs hesitant. “I ain’t doing this out of the goodness of my heart. I’m screwed up too and you’re going to have to give as good as you get. I need that. You need that. So either walk away if you just want to be friends-”

“Odds are this crashes and burns,” he said. Your hands slid to his cheeks, smirking up at him. “What?”

“Good thing I got my own firefighter then.” He raised an eyebrow, smiling when you tilted your chin up. “Stealing my moves?”

“Just remembered you were warned, sweetheart.”

“We’re going to work on that self-talk.” You tiled your chin further, Dean meeting your mouth, a smile in it. For the first time in a long time, in years, you let yourself think about a future and what that looked like. Dean pulled away slowly when Sam called for you both, his thumb brushing your chin.

“I’m sure I’ll get the hang of it with some help,” he murmured, trailing his knuckles down your arm, stopping at your hand to lace your fingers together.

Yeah, the future was looking a little brighter these days.

_________________

[7ndipity]

“Are You Confident?”

fwb!Jungkook x Plus Size Reader

Summary: The one where you get fed up with Jungkook’s teasing and decide to take him up on his offer.

Word Count: just under 1.7k

Warnings: +18 mdni, smut. oral(m. receiving), swearing, Jk starts out fuckboy-ish but turns subby, slight dom reader, reader’s referred to as Noona, not proofread

A/N: This idea has been sitting in my drafts since early December, but I finally managed to finish part one! This is sort of a prequel to this drabble, so if you can read it too if you liked this one. I’ll also be posting part two and a masterlist(hopefully)later this week, so lmk what you think!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

If you had to choose a favorite place in the whole world, you would choose Jungkook’s apartment without a thought. Not your own apartment, not you favorite shop, not even the dream vacation you’d been planning and saving up for forever, just being tucked into the corner of Jungkook’s couch, Bam curled up next to you, his massive head resting in your lap, subtly begging for pets as you vented to his owner about your most recent dating fiasco.

The guy one of your friends had set you up with had seemed nice enough at first, but as dinner progressed, things had progressively gone downhill.

“Did he least pay for dinner?” Jungkook asked, sprawled on the opposite end of the couch.

“I’d assume so, I walked out before the bill even came.” You replied, taking a long drink from your glass.

“Why do you even bother with dating anyway? You said before you hated it.” He asked.

“I’ve told you, I’m… lonely.” You said pointedly, avoiding his eyes.

He squinted at you, understanding suddenly flashing across his face.

“Ah, so you just need to get laid?” He asked, sitting back with a smirk as your face flushed with color. “Why didn’t you just say so? I could help you with that.”

“Ugh, shut up.” You groaned, getting up and heading to the kitchen.

“I’m serious.” He said, following you. “It’s better than fucking some random asshole.”

This type of conversation was a recurring thing in your friendship. Jungkook loved to tease you, and with a relationship that had grown as close as yours had, he had plenty of opportunities.

Your friends often joked that the two of you should just date already with the way you acted with each other, often toeing the line between what was typically considered okay for ‘just friends’. You’d slept in the same bed more times than you could count(a fact that had made Taehyung nearly choke on his drink when he’d found out), you’d even kissed at his friend's New Years Eve party after a few too many drinks and a similar conversation to the one you were currently having, lamenting about not having someone to kiss at midnight.

You didn’t know what had possessed you to do it, all you could remember was hearing the countdown and leaning in, connecting your lips with his for the briefest moment, only for him to quickly chase after yours when you had started to pull away.

Neither of you had brought it up afterwards, but the memory of it was permanently seared into your mind; the feel of his lips moving against yours, the way his hands had gently gripped your waist-

You shook your head, redirecting your attention back to the current moment, trying to ignore Jungkook as he leaned against the counter next to you.

“Look, if you don’t want to, that’s totally fine, I’m just offering a possible solution to your problem,” He said, shrugging as he grinned at you. “You know, if you’re really desperate.”

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. When's the last time you even went on a date again?”

Your words had the desired effect on him, turning his expression sour.

“That’s different, I’ve been… busy.” He said grudgingly.

“Uh-huh, sure.” You grinned triumphantly.

“I mean it though,” He said. “If that’s really all you’re after, I’d be glad to help.”

You blinked at him in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” He shrugged. “I mean, like you said, it’s not like I've got anything going either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, just two friends helping each other out.”

“That is, if you think you can handle me.” He added with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes, letting out an irritated laugh. “Please, I could handle you.”

“Are you confident?” He asked, quirking a brow at you.

“Yes.” You answered immediately, catching both him and yourself off guard as you stared him down.

Your words weren’t entirely true, you weren’t all that confident when it came to things like this, but Jungkook had a way of triggering your stubborn streak, whether it was with that cocky smile he always threw your way or the domineering tone he like to tease you with, something about him made you suddenly brave and willing to challenge anything he said.

Normally, that was part of what made your friendship fun, the two of you constantly bickering and at odds with each other, but this was much different than arguing over where to get dinner or what to watch on tv.

You were chest to chest now, able to feel his heart pounding surprisingly fast as he stared down at you.

“Prove it.” He said, his tone having lost its teasing edge as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your mouth.

That was all it took to make you break.

You closed the gap between the two of you, pushing him back against the wall as your lips clashed.

This wasn’t at all like the first time you’d kissed, there was no hesitancy or tender playfulness, it was hot and rushed and needy, full of tongue and teeth.

You were aware of a voice in the back of your head frantically screaming at you, something about how this was terrible idea and could ruin things between you and Jungkook completely, but you really couldn’t bring yourself to care as his warm hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as his tongue fought with yours for dominance. He tasted sharp and sweet like the wine you had brought, his skin hot under your fingertips as your hands slipped from his shoulders to tangle in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands and earning a low grunt from him.

His grip on your hips tightened before sliding down to grope your ass, grinding you against the growing bulge in his pants.

A surprised squeak left you, making him chuckle against your lips as you mentally cursed yourself. You were not about to let him have the upper hand, not this quickly.

You slipped a hand down between you to palm him over his pants, squeezing just enough to cause what sounded very much like a moan to you to release from his throat, though you knew he’d tried to deny it.

Just as suddenly as you’d begun, you pulled away, making his eyes snap open in confusion.

“What are you-?” He panted, stopping in shock as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“I’m helping you out.” You said simply, undoing his belt as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Is that okay?”

He nodded, breathing unsteadily.

“I need words, Sweetie.” You said, making him flush at the petname as you fiddled with his zipper. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“I want it,” He quickly blurted, giving up control with surprising ease as he stared down at you, eyes black with need. “I-I want your mouth, please.”

“Good boy.” You tugged his jeans down, revealing the prominent tent in his boxers, a small wet patch on the material showing just how eager he was.

“These are cute.” You commented, toying with the waistband before letting it snap back against his skin, making him jump slightly. “Purple looks good on you.”

“Noona, please.” He whined in frustration, his head falling back against the wall as his hips twitched forward involuntarily.

“Fine, since you’re asking so politely.” You pulled his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, hanging heavy in front of your face.

He was slightly bigger than you expected, the tip flushed deep red and leaking precum as you took him in your hand, making him shudder.

“Mm, should’ve known, even your cock’s pretty.” You mused, leaning in to give it a cursory lick, sucking the tip into your mouth for a moment before pulling back, leaving a few kisses along the underside of his length as you glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.

He was staring down at you slack-jawed, his breaths coming out in uneven pants as you pumped him with your hand.

He already looked slightly fucked out and you’d barely done anything to him yet, giving you a massive surge of confidence as you held eye contact with him, gathering as much spit as you could in your mouth before letting it dribble down over his twitching length.

“Fuck.” He muttered under his breath, squiming slightly.

Still holding his gaze, you took him fully into your mouth, sinking down as far as you could go.

“Fuck!” He gasped, his head falling back against the wall with a thump as you pulled back, swirling your tongue around him teasingly before sinking down again, letting him hit the back of your throat and holding him there for a moment before pulling off.

You quickly found your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down on him and using your hands on what wouldn’t fit in your mouth.

He let out a low whine, fists clenched so tight against his thighs his knuckles had gone white.

Noticing this, you used your free hand to guide his to your head, letting him tangle his fingers in your hair and giving him something to ground himself with.

All too soon, you felt him beginning to tense, his grip on your head tightening as his thighs started to shake.

“Fuck, ‘m gonna cum.” He whimpered. “Where do you want me to-?”

You only answer to him taking him and deeper and swallowing around him, making him cry out as his hip bucked forward, fucking your face as he chased his release.

“Shit, Y/n, I-” His words were choked off with a groan as he came, cumming down your throat in hot spurts.

He slumped back against the wall, breathing hard as you slowly pulled off of him, making a point to meet his eyes again as you swallowed.

“Shit, Y/n,” He said weakly as you stood back up. “That was-”

You cut him off with another kiss, feeling him twitch against your leg as he tasted himself on your tongue.

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @ldysmfrst

[tipsynight0]

Anatomy of affection

Parings - eyeless Jack x female reader

Word count - 1.1k

TRIGGER WARNINGS - medical procedures, surgery, graphic descriptions of blood and organs, use of paralytics, body horror, gore, blood, cannibalism, descriptions of anatomy and dissection.

Summary - (y/n) is giving Jack a snack.

Author's Note: Not sure why I enjoyed writing this so much, but explaining it to my boyfriend and watching him look at me like I'm the freakiest thing he's ever seen was... interesting. Anyway, if you're squeamish about organs or cannibalism, maybe skip this one! <3

The cold metal table pressed unyieldingly against (Y/N)'s back, its chill seeping through her skin, heightening her awareness of her immobility. She lay paralyzed, her gaze locked on her lover, Jack, who moved with deliberate, practiced grace across the dimly lit room. The acrid scent of alcohol hung thick in the air, a hasty attempt at sterilization given his scarce supplies. Beside an operating tray, Jack's hands skimmed over his instruments, lingering briefly before selecting each one, his fingers brushing the tools with an expert's familiarity. He listened intently to the rhythmic pulse in (Y/N)'s neck, sensing her heart beating faster.

He leaned close, his calloused fingers tracing a gentle path over her stomach, claws lightly grazing her skin. "Don't worry," he murmured, his voice soft yet intense, "I know what I’m doing." Despite herself, (Y/N) let out a nervous laugh, nodding ever so slightly. She attempted to wiggle her toes, flex her hands—anything—but her body remained numb, just as Jack had planned with the precise dose of vecuronium. This moment was one they'd prepared for, an experience she had willingly chosen.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she took in her surroundings—the familiar concrete walls lined with shelves of carefully arranged medical supplies and the slight glint of tools on the nearby tray. Jack seemed engrossed in his setup, double-checking every item with a meticulousness she recognized and loved. He finally pulled off his mask, revealing his grey skin and the unmistakable gleam in his eyes. One of his many tongues darted out to moisten his lips, a glint of hunger flashing across his face. She watched, captivated, as he inspected the monitor, satisfied that her vitals remained steady. Just in case, he had an Ambu bag at the ready, a trophy from one of their nighttime scavenging trips to abandoned clinics. They had both invested in this, carefully planning each aspect of this night.

Jack leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, lingering briefly before he grasped his scalpel. "Alright, baby," he said with a smile that, despite its toothy sharpness, held a tenderness she trusted, "it’s time." His hand moved to her face, cupping it gently. His surgical gloves snapped into place, and his fingers began to trace a path down her abdomen, a silent promise of care. When he made the first incision, (Y/N) could only assume it had happened; her body remained numb, yet she could sense his excitement. Jack’s tongue flicked out, practically salivating as he worked, pausing only to press gauze to the incision and lap up the blood with reverence.

"Everything going good down there?" (Y/N) asked, her voice wavering but full of curiosity.

Jack nodded, casting her a reassuring glance. "Yes, darling. You’re doing great." For a rare moment, a look of genuine expression crossed his face—a mix of pride and fascination.

"Did you enjoy being a medical student?" she asked quietly, trying to break the silence that seemed to press down on them.

He chuckled softly, the sound rolling through the room as he continued to focus on removing layers of fat and tissue with precise, careful cuts. "It was… fine," he murmured, his brow furrowing as he concentrated. "I just wanted to help people." For a moment, his mind drifted to those less careful procedures he'd performed in the past, crude and impersonal compared to this. This was different; this was for her. Every detail mattered, every movement was intentional. She was his priority, and he’d take hours to ensure her recovery.

The procedure continued, his hands working methodically as he navigated around muscles, vessels, and organs. With skilled precision, he reached the ureter and blood vessels before finally removing the kidney. Holding it up triumphantly, he allowed himself a brief, reverent pause, admiring its color and texture. (Y/N) felt a shiver race up her spine, offering him a shy, almost giddy smile.

"It’s beautiful," he breathed, his voice filled with admiration. "The scent is… intoxicating." He placed the kidney into a basin of ice, his attention undivided as he resumed his work. The following hours passed in quiet conversation and careful stitching. His words were soothing, his lips occasionally grazing her forehead as he worked his way through the final sutures. "Almost done, darling," he whispered, his voice rich with affection.

At last, with a sigh of satisfaction, Jack pulled off his gloves, his fingers finding her face as he leaned down, pressing soft kisses along her cheeks, forehead, and neck. "Alright, alright, go eat," she laughed, flushed from his touch.

Jack sighed, nodding, but his gaze shifted to the basin, where her kidney lay on ice. Slowly, he lifted it, placing it in a pristine white bowl, adding a dash of salt and pepper. Seated near her, he picked up his scalpel and fork, slicing through the jelly-like texture. She watched, utterly fascinated as he lifted the fork, inhaling deeply, savoring the scent of iron and freshness. This was not just any organ—it was hers, a part of her.

He tilted his head back slightly, letting the first bite linger on his tongue, savoring it fully. A low, appreciative groan escaped him. "You taste… perfect," he whispered, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

(Y/N) bit her lip, captivated by his enjoyment, as he tried to maintain some semblance of decorum while eating but couldn’t help himself. Each bite was savored as though he were tasting something divine. Once finished, he leaned over her, his tongues intertwining with hers, the taste of iron and warmth flooding her senses. She gripped his sweater, pulling him closer.

Pulling back, he whispered, "I love you," his hands cradling her face as he pressed his forehead against hers. "Don’t worry; I’m going to take good care of you for the next few weeks."

[blueicequeen19]

Hint

Warnings: unprotected car creampie, oral, face fucking, hate fucking with JJ, Kook mean girl

I roll my eyes as I cross the parking lot to my Mercedes. This Pogue could not take a fucking hint. His constant flirting was on my last nerve. Sure he was cute but he was a Pogue. I had guys lining up to fuck me. I could have any guy I wanted so why waste time on this loser?

“Stop following me.” I snap, hitting the unlock button on my key fob. Why did I park at the back of the damn parking lot?

“You’ve been drinking. At least let me drive you home. Or my home.” The smile in his voice is clear and I shake my head just as I stumble in my heels over another fucking piece of gravel.

“Fuck.” I stop, reaching down to kick off these monstrosities when he’s suddenly crouching in front of me, crowding my space as he lifts my foot and starts to unfasten the straps.

“Are you always this annoying?” I grumble, using one hand on his shoulder to balance myself. The hand on my ankle is hot against my skin as he finally works the strap free and gently sits my foot down.

“Usually.” He peeks up at my under his messy blonde hair, flashing a panty dropping smile as he switches to the other foot.

“At least you’re honest.”

“Not used to that?”

“You don’t know me at all so don’t assume anything.” God he gets under my skin so badly but he doesn’t seem phased as he chuckles before raising to his full height, towering over me and dangerously close.

“I know enough.” His voice is lower, seductive even as his playful blue eyes rake down my body and back up.

“You know what’s on the outside. You don’t know what’s on the inside.” I blurt in frustration, shoving his chest but he doesn’t even budge. His lips curl into a taunting smirk.

“I want to be inside you. Does that count?” My jaw drops in surprise. This Pogue was so bold. I scoff, attempting to shove past him but pain shoots up through my feet from the gravel. It’s so sudden that I barely comprehend him scooping me in his arms until we’re moving towards my car again.

“I didn’t need your help.” I grumble, my heels dangling from one hand as I wrap the other around his neck.

“A simple thank you would suffice.”

“Oh so you’re not going to use this as a way to gain a sexual favor?” I narrowed my eyes at him as a bright smile formed across his face, his boots crunching along the gravel.

“I won’t say no to a blow job.”

“I can’t stand you.”

“You can sit on my face if you don’t feel like standing.” A laugh burst from me and I quickly looked away, his smile practically blinding as we came up on my car.

“You can put me down now.” I muttered awkwardly as he pulled the drivers door open.

“Eager to get home?” He lowered me so that my toes rested on his boots, keeping me from hurting my feet. The move felt intimate with how tightly our bodies were pressed together and I struggled to maintain eye contact.

“Why do you care? This is never going to happen.” I snap, his eyes widening for a moment before he schools his features. Anger I could deal with. Anything soft was off the table.

“I’m not going to sleep with you. Not just because you’re a filthy Pogue but because you’re probably some vanilla pretty boy and that’s not my thing. You probably like sweet words and taking your time but I like to be fucked. So take the hint.” My heart races with my outburst, my cheeks red with anger but I can’t help the sudden panic from the look in his eyes. He looked pissed but also wanted to eat me alive. Like he wanted to give me exactly what I said I wanted.

“Take the hint, huh?” His voice is low in warning, raising the hair on my neck like I’m being stalked by a predator. Suddenly he jerks open my passenger door and shoves me in the back seat by the back of my neck.

“What the—.” The door shuts and he’s manhandling me onto my knees, yanking my dress up to bare myself to him.

“You want to be fucked? I’ll show you how we Pogues like to fuck.” I nearly moan at his words, my body already on board with whatever he has planned. His fingers cup my sex, teasing my folds over my thong before yanking it down my thighs.

“Don’t you dare.” I gasp, still hanging on to the need for this to be all his idea. He slaps my pussy, making me squeal in pain and surprise.

“Open up for me, princess.” He slaps my thighs wider apart, the flesh of his cock suddenly between my thighs and making my eyes bug out. He was fucking huge.

“So goddamn wet for a Kook Princess.” JJ taunts, rubbing his cock through my slit. Every pass over my clit made me shudder, begging to be filled. I open my mouth to do just that when he shoves his way inside, making me moan loudly as my head drops down on the leather seats.

“Shit. You better be quiet or one of your friends will find you getting fucked by a filthy Pogue.” JJ’s words are strained as his fingers bite into my hips and he starts to move. I can’t control the whimpers and mewls that leave me. He delivers on his promise, fucking me hard and fast. I don’t even have to demand more because he keeps up with everything my body wants without instruction.

“So hot and tight.” JJ groans, yanking me back into every hard thrust of his hips as the car rocks. His cock was so hard and deep. I could barely think or breathe until I hear a giggle in the distance. I try to jerk away but he shoves me back down, holding me in place. His pace lessens so the car doesn’t rock but he doesn’t stop fucking me as he looks around.

“Grab the door.”

“Who— is it? We have to stop.” My words come out on a whimper, my body wound so tight as I do as he says.

“Guess you’re not the only one getting fucked by a Pogue tonight.” JJ chuckles darkly, shoving me flat onto the seat and coming down on top of me. My hair is twisted in his fist as his lips find my neck. I try to listen to determine if I know the identity of the other couple but I can’t hear over the sound of JJ panting in my ear and his pelvis slamming against my ass.

“Here?” A girl hisses too close to my car for liking and I instantly recognize the voice as my two-faced Pogue hating best friend.

“Fuck, I love having you under me. Not so mouthy now, are ya?”

I hear a thump and JJ chuckles in my ear, rolling his hips so he hits that sweet spot deep inside me. I bite back a mewl, turning my head and slamming my mouth to his without even thinking. If I thought fucking him was insane then kissing was even worse. His tongue demands entrance into my mouth and I can’t stop the orgasm that barrels forward. His hand is over my mouth in the next moment, silencing me as he fucks me into the seat until I’m trembling for relief.

“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to be fucked?” I fight the urge to roll my eyes at him as I reach back to dig my nails into his thigh, with shorts still around his legs.

“Who is she fucking?” I demand in a whisper, shaking his hand off my mouth.

“Doesn’t matter.”

A cry of pleasure echos outside the car and JJ’s pace picks up. I can tell by his breathing that he’s close. He’s already lasted a lot longer than I expected.

“J—.” His nickname is a plea on my lips, the sensitivity being too much. The leather against my nipples. His weight on top of mine. His husky breathing in my ear.

“I like the thought of you driving home with me inside you. Then every time you drive this car you’ll be reminded of this. How your mouth begged for relief but your body demanded more. I can feel how close you are.” His vulgar words had my inner walls clenching, my eyes squeezing shut as pleasure pulsed through me. My hips lift on their own, aching for him to reach deeper.

“I didn’t say you could cum inside me.” I growl, fighting off the orgasm that threatens to rip through me and give us away. JJ’s hand dips between my thighs to press on my clit and a choked sound leaves me as my body detonates.

“I didn’t ask.” He whispers as I cum hard, my body jerking beneath his as I bite my own arm to keep from screaming my release. A deep, sexy moan echos in my ear as he finishes inside me, fucking me slow and deep until we’re both spent and fighting to catch our breath. The windows have fogged and I can feel his sweat on my back. Minutes pass and I don’t hear the couple outside anymore so I motion for him to let me up.

“This isn’t ever happening again.” I declare, looking along the floorboard for my panties. I don’t find them and I level him with a glare as he relaxes back against the seat, his legs spread and cock still hard. I fight hard not to stare at the cum stains along his shaft.

“If you say so.” His eyes are dark as he watches me, a sexy smirk on his lips. Like someone who was awfully proud of their accomplishments. The after effects of bliss make it hard to cling to my anger, especially with him looking at me the way he is.

“Clean up your mess and I’ll go.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

“I heard you. I was just giving you a chance to rethink what you just said.”

A beat of tense silence stretches between us, our eyes never wavering from each others even as his cum drips out of me and onto the leather seats.

“Here, I’ll show you.” JJ lunges, wrapping his hand in my hair and yanking me over his lap. His free hand holds his hard cock firmly as he presses my head down until the smooth tip meets my lips. I grit my teeth, refusing to open but the hand in my hair tightens painfully, nearly ripping the strands out so I reluctantly open, letting him hit the back of my throat. I gag loudly, attempting to pull back but he holds me firmly, a hand sliding between my legs to stroke my slick slit. I want to shake my head or tell him I can’t take anymore but he refuses to let me up as he fucks my throat.

“More tongue, less teeth. Relax your throat.” I’m tempted to bite down, wishing I could tell him I know how to give a damn blow job. It wouldn’t be so bad if he’d stop treating me like I don’t need to breathe. But goddamn the pulsing between my legs is almost agonizing. I feel on fire.

I move my tongue so it’s dragging up and down his shaft and I feel his body tighten as he hisses through his teeth.

“That’s it.” JJ groans, his fingers relaxing slightly in my hair as I start to move with him. The hand between my legs starts to move quicker against my clit, my legs shaking as I try to finish him before he finishes me. I hum around his shaft, tears blurring my eyes as every nerve ending starts to feel on fire.

“I’m cumming.” His head hits the seat as he holds my head down, shooting down my throat as my own body is thrown into oblivion. I can barely swallow as stars line my vision and my body shakes uncontrollably. The lack of oxygen didn’t help.

Finally, he releases the hold on my hair and I slide into the floorboard on my knees, makeup burning my eyes as I look up at him. My throat was raw and my pussy was on fire but I’d never felt more sated. JJ looked as satisfied as I felt as he slowly zipped his shorts back up and wiped sweat from his brow.

“I hate you.” My voice is hoarse and I desperately needed water. I also needed to know who my best friend was fucking right outside my car.

“But you love how I felt inside you.”

“You didn’t wear a condom.”

“Hopefully you’re on something.”

“Hopefully you don’t have something.”

JJ smirks as he leans forward on his knees, eyeing me like we didn’t just have amazing orgasms together.

“I guess next time I need to fuck you harder. Take care of all that attitude.” I narrow my eyes at him until his hand is suddenly around my throat and he’s pulling me into a sizzling kiss. I moan into his mouth, twisting my fingers in his hair as our tongues collide. I’d never been a fan of kissing but his mouth was otherworldly. I kiss him harder, feeling the slight stubble along his upper lip. I nearly whimper when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting our lips.

“Next time I’m eating that tight fucking pussy until you cum all over my face. Then I’m going to tie you up and play with you until you make an absolute mess. After that I’m gonna lay back and watch as you use me to get yourself off. You’ll use me however you want me while I don’t lift a finger.” JJ kisses me again as my insides turned molten, a cocky smirk pulling at his lips.

“I’ll see you later, princess.”

Then the car door opens and is slammed in my face as I try to figure out what the fuck just happened.

[jintaka-hane]

Asked by: @i-am-vita ¡Feliz año nuevo! <3

[Masterlist] Kiss your blorbo on New Year’s Eve

MIHAWK

Img clock src

Summary: There is only one night when you have enough courage to do something completely out of place: kiss your mentor. Word count: 650 Warning: All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

Your white silk nightgown billows behind you as you hurry barefoot down the long, dark corridor, rushing past worn tapestries of forgotten lineages hanging on the walls. What you’re about to do is completely out of line. But it’ll only be for a moment, and surely, by morning, it will all be forgotten.

Leaving behind large windows shrouded by heavy, tattered velvet curtains, you place your hand on the banister of the staircase leading to the main tower. Your reflection flashes for a brief moment in a gilded baroque-framed mirror, and with your heart pounding in your chest, you begin to ascend toward your mentor's room.

Breathing in short gasps, you reach the final step and spot the massive dark oak door at the end of the corridor leading to Mihawk’s quarters. It’s tall and arched at the top, restored to perfection, likely by the swordsman himself. As your eyes linger on the black wrought iron reinforcements and the intricate designs of the hinges, the enormous gothic clock in the corridor begins to chime. You flinch, and clenching your fist tightly, you raise it into the air, swallowing hard before knocking gently with your knuckles.

Tap, tap, tap

On the other side of the door, there is absolute silence, but you know your mentor is an extraordinarily quiet man. So, patiently, you wait for the room’s occupant to answer, trying to steady your racing heartbeat with deep, calm breaths. Your bare feet feel cold against the marble floor, and you lift one to rub it against your calf. With the tips of your fingers, you adjust the neckline of your nightgown, wondering if you should knock again when the refined iron handle of the door turns with a heavy click.

The massive door opens, and Dracule Mihawk’s piercing amber eyes meet yours, unblinking. If he is surprised to see you, he doesn’t show it, remaining the reserved and stoic man he is.

"Yes?" his velvety voice says, just as the clock finishes its final chime.

“Sir, it’s…” Your gaze falls on his slightly tousled hair, and the realization that you may have woken him causes your confidence to falter. But you quickly compose yourself, determined to complete your mission. “It’s midnight.”

Mihawk stares at you as he calmly rolls up the sleeves of his white, ruffled nightshirt, then glances at the clock on the wall.

“That's correct, thank you” he says, speaking in the same soft tone but devoid of any emotion. “Anything else?”

"Yes," you reply quickly, your heart hammering inside your ribcage as you step closer to him. Feeling the weight of his piercing gaze on you, your hands tremble before seizing the ruffles of his shirt. Then, rising onto your tiptoes, you press a soft kiss to his tightly closed lips. "Happy New Year, sir."

Mihawk shows no visible reaction, though you catch a glimpse of his fists clenching at his sides, his hawk-like eyes straining to avoid scanning you from head to toe.

“That was completely out of place, Miss,” he finally says, chastising you in the same tone he would use to correct a poor fencing move. But you don't care. All you feel in your body is the adrenaline of finally kissing your mentor. Quickly pivoting on your bare heels, you rush to leave the place as swiftly as you arrived, unable to suppress the triumphant smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.

Mihawk’s sharp eyes follow the billowing of your white nightgown as you walk away. Once you vanish from his sight, he steps into his room, closing the massive door behind him and leaning back against it, one hand running over his face. His fingers pause over his lips for a moment, recalling the soft touch of yours, before he exhales long and deeply.

You were definitely going to be the end of him.

........................................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀᴛ ᴄʟᴜᴍꜱɪʟʏ ꜱʜᴏᴡꜱ ᴀꜰꜰᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies. Not proofread.

Emma: "Prince Kagari's birthday is today?"

Townswoman: "Yes, it's become a tradition for the whole town to celebrate."

Emma: "So that's why it's so lively today."

(I had no idea it was Kagari's birthday.)

The townspeople were particularly excited, and the sweet smell of dorayaki filled the air from every direction.

Townswoman: "You should celebrate Prince Kagari too."

Townswoman: "I'm sure he'd be thrilled if someone as special as you sent him good wishes."

A woman I'd gotten to know since coming to Kogyoku flashed me a cheerful smile and gave me a gentle push.

Townswoman: "If you're having trouble picking a gift, I'll help you out!"

Emma: "Thanks, but since it's a special occasion, I'd like to come up with something myself."

(This feels kind of weirdly pressuring. Or is it just me?)

Satisfied with my response, the woman cheerfully left after offering a few words of encouragement.

(Kagari's helped me more times than I can count since I got to Kogyoku. Whether or not I'm special to him, I can't just ignore his birthday now that I know about it.)

(Alright.)

(Wait, what's this ridiculously long line?!)

When I packed my gift and made my way to the castle, I found the square completely packed with people who had come to celebrate Kagari.

(Swordsmen, nobles, commoners—wow, that's a huge crowd.)

At the front of the line, a striking figure with red hair caught my eye.

He was expressionless, silently receiving greetings and tributes one after another.

(Prince Kagari looks completely detached, like it has nothing to do with him. He doesn't seem happy at all.)

I stood on my toes to get a better look, and our eyes met.

(Did he just catch me staring? He's always quick to notice when someone's looking at him.)

I looked away and took cover by a nearby cherry blossom tree.

(What should I do? It's going to be difficult to celebrate with this many people around.)

(I really wanted to celebrate on his actual birthday, but maybe I should come back tomorrow. Wait, what?)

When I glanced back, Prince Kagari was gone.

Instead, his attendant was standing there, and despite not being the prince, people were still offering celebratory words and gifts.

It was a weird sight.

Kagari: "You're wide open, Princess."

(!?)

I turned toward the voice, and a hand suddenly covered my mouth.

Before I could react, he pulled me into the shadows beneath the tree, my back gently pressed against the trunk.

Emma: "Mmph!"

(When did he even get behind me?!)

I struggled, but he effortlessly pinned me against the tree, his face now dangerously close to mine.

For a second, I thought my heart would stop.

Kagari: "Will you behave?"

I nodded frantically, and only then did he finally let go of my mouth.

But the distance between us didn't change. He placed his hands on the tree, keeping me trapped.

(Calm down, Emma.)

(He's probably just staying this close to avoid being seen by others.)

I instinctively lowered my voice, careful not to let my breath brush against him.

Emma: "Why are you here?"

Kagari: "I saw you."

Emma: "So you came to see me?"

Kagari: "You called me."

(Is that how he saw it?)

A mix of guilt and a strange, fluttering warmth settled in my chest.

Kagari: "If you were planning to stand in line, you should give up."

Kagari: "That line won't die down until nightfall."

Emma: "That long…?"

Kagari: "And at night, there's a banquet. It'll go on until dawn."

(Spending an entire day celebrating… The Yaksha of Kogyoku really goes all out.)

I was impressed, but his expression remained blank as always.

He gazed at the never-ending line of people as if it had nothing to do with him, his detached demeanor unfitting for someone being celebrated.

(I feel like Kagari doesn't care much about his birthday.)

(What if he finds it annoying that I came?)

Kagari: "So? Why are you here?"

I instinctively looked away.

Emma: "I was just curious since there are so many people."

(I can't bring myself to say I also came to celebrate.)

I hid the bag with the present behind my back.

Kagari was silent for a while.

An awkward silence fell between us, making the noise around us feel distant.

(I hid it, but I wonder if he noticed.)

But Kagari didn't say anything more about it and just grabbed my arm.

Kagari: "Princess, will you come with me?"

Emma: "Huh? W-Wait, Prince Kagari?"

He stealthily led me toward the castle, barely giving me a choice. Once inside, he unceremoniously shoved me into a room before disappearing and returning with a large basket.

Kagari: "First, put this on."

Emma: "A hakama?"

Kagari: "Next, wrap this around your face."

Emma: "A scarf?"

Kagari: "Lastly, wear this at your waist."

Emma: "A… sword!?"

Kagari: "Tie your hair into a single ponytail."

Emma: "Um…?"

(Why are we suddenly having a dress-up session?)

I accepted each item as he handed them to me, tilting my head in confusion. But then, without hesitation, he picked up the hakama and reached for my clothes.

Kagari: "If you don't know how to wear it, I'll help."

Emma: "N-No! I got this!"

(I have no idea what's going on, but this can't possibly be bad, right?)

[libraryofolive]

talk

featuring: Salaryman!Nanami Kento x fem!reader

genre: SMUT, pwp so 18+ MDNI

word count: 717

synopsis: You are Nanami's new worker, and he is now finding it so hard to keep his strict separation of business and pleasure because of you.

Like this? You can find my smaus here and my drabbles and other fiics here!

Do you also have a request? You can find my rules for requesting here!

part two

If you had asked Nanami Kento’s colleagues to describe him in one word, most would say professional. He kept things polite, but refused to let his personal life mix with his professional one. Sometimes, when a co-worker’s questions got to be a little too nosy, his replies could border on curt - he was the mysterious, attractive co-worker that no one could crack. He came to the office to do his job, and that was all. He was not there to make friends, and definitely not to find a romantic partner. Sure, some may call him robotic, but he always brushed that off, forever remaining professional.

But when you started working with him, that façade started teetering, constantly on the verge of crumbling when you would flash him that pretty smile of yours, or when he heard your laugh - God, your laugh drove him insane. He wondered how far he would go to pull that pretty noise from between your lips.

Before long, laughter wasn’t the only sound he wanted to draw out of you. You were alluring, the way those pencil skirts hugged your figure, showing off the shape of your thighs and the plush of your belly. Those legs of yours, elongated by those kitten heels you strut around in, full of confidence and charm. And those shirts you wear - fuck, those shirts. The way the buttons sometimes pulled against the curve of your breasts, accentuating them in a way Nanami found it hard to pull his eyes from.

He hated himself for it, the way he pictured you when he was all alone in the dark of his bedroom. He’d lie there, fisting his cock at the though of how those thighs of yours would feel wrapped around his waist as he took you there in his office. The way your heels would dig into his back, bringing him impossibly closer to you as he entered you, skirt hiked up and panties haphazardly pulled to the side. The way he would kiss you - it would be sloppy, oh so sloppy, the both of you too wrapped up in your lust to care about any sort of technique. When he pulled away to see how your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a loud moan escaping you, a line of spit still connected your mouths. You would be loud, too loud, and he would occupy your pretty mouth with two of his fingers, you sucking on them without needing to be told.

Or perhaps those thighs would be squeezing the sides head as you sat on his desk, him kneeling in front of you, eating you out like a man starved. If you suffocated him in this position he would die a happy man, the tantalising taste of you on his tongue. The way he would alternate between suckling on your clit and tongue fucking you - your cries of pleasure only urging him to bring you closer and closer to a toe-curling orgasm. Maybe he’d be jerking himself off at the same time, bringing you both to your highs as you grasped his blonde locks between your fingers, tugging harshly. The pain would only serve to heighten his pleasure as you cried out, “Please- sir, please, please let me cum! I need- I need it sir, please!” Of course, this time he’d let you release, muttering a ‘good girl’ into your sweet pussy as your cum painted his face and his own painted his hand.

He always came quickly - embarrassingly quickly - at his lewd thoughts of you. But the real torment was when they would infiltrate his mind as he stood in front of you - you were complaining to him about the latest workload your joint boss had assigned you, and he was thinking about how pretty your mouth would look wrapped around his dick. Trying not to let what he was thinking affect his exterior, Nanami kept his words calm and attempted to think of anything other than his latest fantasy. But Nanami Kento was a professional, so he would keep his words just that out of fear that you would find out just how he was imagining you - even if, not that he knew, you often imagined him in the exact same way.

[bitumz]

Title: Lay that rifle down

Pairing: Cooper Howard / Lucy MacLean Word count: 4.5k+

Rated: E [explicit sexual content, gun play, dom/sub undertones, cannibalistic tendencies]

gif credit: @kaorym ❤️

~~~~~

“Ten caps says you can’t teach me something about a rifle that I don’t already know.” Lucy sent over her raised arm.

And Cooper took it as the bait it was. 

“Aight Annie Oakley, target practice ain’t got shit on the real thing.” He sneered with a tip of his head. “You ever have to pull a repeater on a rabid herd of radroaches crawlin’ at your feet down there in that squeaky-clean sealed-up vault of yours?” Cooper asked, and Lucy only looked over at him as if the thought was foul. “Or how bout a pack a’ radhounds foamin’ at the maw for a mouthful of that hot blooded complacency all over your fuckin’ face... Didn’t think so.” He bit. “And keep that goddamned elbow up ‘fore it gets knocked from its socket.” He reminded again through his teeth, and she couldn't be sure if he meant from the kick of the stock or his hands-on training approach.

Three empty cans of Cram hung from twine on a tree branch twenty yards out and Lucy squinted at them down the barrel of Cooper’s sawed off. Their light ammo was running low, as was their luck, a bandit encampment separating them from their most recent diversion, a bounty that would earn them enough caps to not have to worry about bullets or supplies for the next few months if lady luck got her shit together. 

“No, no radroaches down there, thank goodness.” Lucy answered. “But there was those few raiders that one time. And the bandits back in Nipton... The deathclaw that nearly knocked your head off.” She preened. “They all moved pretty quick. I think Annie would be proud.”

Cooper snorted at that, ambling down range to run his gloved hand lazily across the cans, sending them swaying side to side. Stepped safely out of the way.

“Raiders…” he still pondered the first of her list. The one that still stung the most when she thought on it too long. “Moldaver’s golden fuckin’ ticket huh... What was his name again?” Cooper asked, eyes thinning in a derisive show of thought. Like he’d actually forgotten, though the tightly drawn bow of his shoulders said otherwise, pent up exertion waiting to be freed in one way or another. Lucy shifted on her toes in the sand. “Monty, right?” He sent her a withering grin from beneath the shadow of his hat. “Imagine how much more effective buckshot woulda been.”

Lucy glared back, took aim, and fired, the hollowed rounds free of shrapnel, (waste not, want not Cooper would say) but striking the trio of moving cans in repeat, near-perfect precision all the same. A sense of pride swelled in her chest as they spun wild from their twine, right alongside the burning memories of being betrayed and choked and stabbed in the gut… She looked over to find Cooper again, closer now, watching near her side. 

“I slashed his throat, you know.” Lucy reminded him with a smile of her own, and as always it flashed something bright and hot in his usually carefully disinterested hazel eyes.

“Oh I know.” Cooper nodded. “But your first mistake was lettin’ him close enough to have to.”

With the warning he attempted to reset the stage, gloved hands reaching out to grasp for anything vital, another repeated lesson in reading between the lines of people's bullshit. And they had earned her a few bruises here and there as she’d grown stronger and quicker and improved till he’d deemed it unnecessary to pull his punches, just as she’d begun drawing a bit of blood of her own.

But Lucy had always been a fast learner long before the wasteland. Now, with the push of her heel against the dirt she dodged back and spun whole-bodily to put the barrel of his rifle between them, pointing it an inch away from the hastily sewn button over the center of his chest. 

“He was a liar.” Lucy said simply. “Fucked me and wanted a quick out... Like most men, come to think of it.”

And Cooper chucked low, gloved palms up in a short lived impasse. Raised his stormy expression toward the sky. “Most men, like the poor souls weren’t trapped in there with you.” He finished the roll of his eyes and met hers again. Smirked a fiery thing. “Or related to ya.”

Lucy took the jabs in stride.

“This again? Really? Right now?” She asked, adjusting the butt of the shotgun more securely into the divot of her shoulder. “Not like I had many options down there. Still don’t sadly…”

“And yet?” Cooper bid with the lift of his browline, hat shifting the slightest bit higher on his forehead and letting the sun play brighter along the deep hollows of his face. And he took the final, daring step that put him flush against the jagged metal of the muzzle. Sent her a warning look across it that burned deep in her belly as if it were his own finger on the trigger. Stared at her as if he awaited something even more gutting in her answer. 

And she knew him well enough now that she could give him that.

“Well if this is you actually asking, I’ve dealt with my fair share of assholes, sure. Down there and up here... But with Monty,” she breathed out, sugar sweet and disgustingly indulgent. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life.” 

Then she reached out over the barrel of the rifle, flicked the brim of his hat up another inch higher across his brow just to be a bitch. And at her teasing smile he growled.

Cooper snatched the gun from her hold single handedly, slinging it down in the dirt beside them so hard it kicked up dust. Grabbed her by the knot of the vaultsuit at her waist and yanked her in close, looming that few inches over her that sped her heart in her chest and weakened her knees every single time without fail.

“You sure you really wanna tug on that thread right now girl?” Cooper hissed, chemical-laced breath washing hot across her face in a smell she was coming to relate to painful, invigorating pleasure if she played her cards just right. Because the hands she was dealt could change at a single slip of the tongue, but she was getting more and more secure in her ability to read the table. “Cause it’s been a rough few weeks,” he drawled, “and them prissy vault assholes ain't got shit on me.” 

As if she needed reminding of just how full of it he actually was. He was heavy handed and a downright son of a bitch when the occasion called, but the only lasting marks he left on her skin these days were asked for in gasped breaths and pleading little cries. He'd done nothing during their ample downtime but raise her up to the harsh standards of the wasteland, training her muscles and sharpening her mind and she'd felt more alive in the last few months than she’d ever had in her entire life.

“Technically he wasn't a vault dweller.” She corrected with a small shrug. Squared her shoulders. “But ya, I’m sure.” Lucy nodded in challenge.

And Cooper stared her down just long enough to raise the small hairs at the back of her neck…

Then his rough hands were everywhere all at once, ripping her suit the rest of the way down her hips with one to let it pool at her feet. He bit the middle fingertip of his glove over the other to free it from his scarred skin. And as always his right trigger finger shined paler up at her, nearly completely healed now in a line near his knuckle where two became one. It skimmed up her stomach alongside his others, under her dirtied tank top, gripping the sensitive flesh there and squeezing as she steadied herself against his shoulders to kick her fallen suit to the side.

And Cooper watched the small act with something like veneration in his eyes. 

It emboldened her enough to reach into his own cover, small hands slipping beneath the lapels of his ragged duster to try and push it down from his shoulders. But her wrists were caught in his ensnaring hold before she could make any real progress. 

“Leave it alone,” he snarled, shoving her back and away from him with such a force that she tumbled down onto her ass in the sand, grains scratching against the strips of bare skin that her underwear didn’t cover, but the new angle did something even rawer to her insides as she looked back up at him, standing tall above, chest heaving in an inevitable anger that she found she wanted to siphon out of him like blood, in the very same way he’d done her all those months ago in the hazy heat of the desert. Kicking and screaming and fighting until all the trauma he’d piled on and on atop the already shaky foundation was free of her skin and torn right back into his. And it was a damn enticing thought.

“There she is.” He said unmoving, in that way that pushed her further, as if he knew her better than she knew herself. And that could only be true if she allowed it. 

So she pressed her weight up onto her elbows. Carefully schooled her expression. Sharpened the words in her mind just as Cooper would his bowie.

“You know, I vaguely remember Monty saying something similar to me as I rode him into the mattress.” Lucy said, looking past him to the safety of the tree line. “The first time.” She added pointedly. 

And Cooper’s laugh slithered in the humid air above.

“You sure are a funny little thing, I’ll give ya that.” He said down at her, the lilt of his accent at odds with the glare. “All talk and no substance.” He goaded, tongue darting out to swipe at his chapped bottom lip. Then a sudden thought burned quick and troubling in his eyes. “Unless you care to prove it?”

For a while neither moved, Lucy only returning his malice back up to him as he thought something over in his mind. It thinned in his eyes like her patience.

Then all at once it clicked, Cooper bending forward to retrieve his rifle from the dirt. He shoved it barrel-first into the loose sand between her legs, so sudden and so close to the apex of her thighs that she nearly flinched back to protect her own anatomy…

“Let’s see it then cowgirl.” He taunted, taking a step back and watching her as if she were a puzzle he was bound to solve, whether the pieces fit in place or not. A game to be mastered to completion. One she’d started playing first this time around.

And she would never again back down from a challenge out of fear. Not ever one from him.

“Okey dokey.” Lucy said, paired with the sweet curve of her lips that she knew, together, bit him right in the ass. 

Her hands only shook the faintest bit as she wrapped them around the barrel, using it as an anchor to draw herself the small distance forward it took to have it flush against the gusset of her underwear. The metal itself was warm to the touch, near burning under the tips of her fingers from such recent use, but it sat just right against the heat already building between her legs at the way his shell shocked eyes ate up her every move. 

She held them with her own as she drew into mind the memory of those show girls she’d seen on an old holotape beneath Chet’s mattress. Dressed in clinging silk and dolled up beautifully as they danced around and clung onto tall metal polls like they were lovers. Lucy tried to mimic, making an experimental roll with her hips against the cylinder, firm pressure pushing against all the right places as it parted her folds and met her clit through the thin material of her panties. But the real pleasure came from the look it left on Cooper’s face. 

Lucy moaned a low sound and his boots shifted in the sand before her.

“That’s all it takes huh?” He drawled, his gritty, flustered voice brewing even more pressure deep in her gut than the contact itself. “Fuckin’ get it then.”

She rolled her hips again, arching her lower back and drawing the stock closer to her chest in the dancelike chase of her own pleasure, rocking her cunt against the hard barrel more like a cowboy would his saddle in those old westerns than the painted ladies she’d set out to mirror originally… And then she looked right up into Cooper’s gaping eyes.

“Like this?” Lucy asked him in a breathless gasp, straight teeth flashing harsh in the sun as she drew in a breath through them.

“Just like that.” He growled back, bared hand tugging slow at his remaining glove before both fell to the pair of buckles at his waist. 

And the methodical way he undid the clasp of his holster while still watching on had Lucy’s thighs tightening shut around metal in anticipation, sliding slicker against the friction. She’d been lying when she told him Monty was the best lay she’d ever had but she found that it was almost always in her own best interest to give Cooper new and ever changing goals to focus on. He was an excellent student when given the proper time and motivation to study the material, just as she herself had been during all those pivotal pubescent years in the company of only a Radiation King television set and her own two hands. 

But she was very much a woman now, her body screaming it at her so as her movements grew quicker and sloppy, her hands drawing the rifle against herself in pulses as she rolled her hips forward faster in chase, the pressure building and building low in her groin, throbbing but empty and wanting. 

“Cooper please.” Lucy begged in a shaky breath, though she couldn't pin down exactly what for. She sought out his eyes for the answers. 

“Nu uh.” Cooper denied in a breathy exhale, flicking his pistol barrel up at her a pair of times in vague acknowledgement. “You started it. Fuckin’ finish it.” He bit and the frustration it lit in her chest rekindled her efforts.

If he wanted her to finish then she fucking would. 

Lucy reached down to pull her panties aside, soft curls lacing around her fingers as she unceremoniously dipped a mismatched pair between her folds and into the slick of her arousal, earning a low, satisfying rumble from Cooper’s chest that had her walls clenching tighter around them. She rolled her wrist in the familiar pattern that’d earned her many a decent night sleep. Looked down as she fucked herself on her fingers, gun still standing tall from the dirt between her legs like some last little bit of modesty between her and the eyes that looked on as if they were trying to swallow her whole. She tried to imagine his mostly-own, thicker digits pushing into her. His own thumb circling rough over her clit. And under his careful study, she’d never been more turned on in her life.

“That how Monty touched ya?” Cooper slithered down to her like a curse, breaking the spell and stirring her up further all at once. He stepped aside to fall languorously into a crouch near her knee to better see the show. “All soft and sweet-like. A proper little lady.” He growled.

And Lucy gasped a laugh up at the blue sky, falling to her back as her muscles tensed to a near excruciating tautness at his goading, the attempt only exposing another of his weaknesses and twisting tighter the coil low in her own gut. “He didn’t touch me at all actually.” She confessed, fingers squelching obscenely as she quickened her pace at the reminder. “Made me do all the work myself. Just like this.” She accused up at him with the bend of her neck. “Had more fun fighting him honestly...”

A quick breath huffed from Cooper's nasal cavity. 

“Mm,” he nodded. “Figures.” He drawled, eyes trailing down her body with a dangerous edge thinning his lips. Then he aimed his pistol passively at the dampening sand between her legs, a crazed glint sparking in his eyes that she’d only ever seen in ghouls gone rabid. “Well I got another gun here if ya need it.” He offered.

And the rush of adrenaline at the implication alone was what finally sent her falling over the edge, back arching over the ground, thighs quivering and clenching closed so hard around her own hand that the rifle between them toppled sideways right into Cooper’s waiting hold. 

“That’s it, darlin’,” he praised, steadying himself over her against it like a crutch, honey gold eyes raking over every inch of her exposed, trembling skin. The peaks of her breasts teasing through her thin tank top. Her slowing fingers between her legs as she brought herself back down. “Monty ain’t got shit on those greedy little hands huh?”

And she knew he was talking but the words wouldn’t register right in her pleasure deafened ears. Overstimulated and still unsatisfied in equal measure for the taste of oblivion she could never quite reach on her own anymore. 

“Cooper…” Lucy breathed, strained and gasping in the throes of her waning orgasm. “Cooper please - please…”

He grew tense near her side, that practiced mask of indifference slipping a bit at her honest to god begging. 

“Cooper what?” He asked, almost sweet, in itself an unnerving thing. 

And Lucy let her legs spread back open wide. Slowly traced her pleasure drenched fingers up to the bare midriff of her pale stomach. Dipped them beneath the fraying hem of her panties.

“Please don’t make me do this alone again...” 

Then her underwear joined in the pile of her vaultsuit, Cooper ripping them off her himself as he gave in with a deep throated snarl. He shoved the rifle out of the way in the process, in the rush of kneeling between her legs. Dropped his pistol to the dirt at her side.

“Always so fuckin’ needy,” he bit out in a pant, parting her folds with a single bared hand and pressing his face down between them without so much as preamble. He licked a hot stripe up the damp seam of her, watching her face as it screwed up in pleasure toward the sky, hips pressing harder against his mouth on instinct alone. He held them down against the earth. “This what you wanted sweetheart? A monster like me to do it for ya?” He drew back just enough to ask, pressing the first two fingers of his right hand deep inside her so quick and rough that instead of denying the moniker aloud, she could only moan the breath from her mouth. "Let me fuckin' hear it." Cooper growled, then dragged out more of that answering sound with the seal of his coarse lips around her clit.

Lucy basked in the burning stretch, her walls deliciously taut as he curled his fingers forward inside her, deep against a spot that had the coil low in her belly already flaming burning hot again with a practiced expertise that continued to put the few experiences she had before him to shame. His mouth trailed away from her center, leaving sharp toothed bites across the hinge of her leg, down deeper into the muscled meat of her thigh, every bit one of the foaming-mouthed radhounds he'd often warned her about. Taking her apart and consuming the ruin piece by tender piece.

Lucy hissed air from between her teeth as his jaw set tighter and tighter each time. She reached a hand down, attempting to gently guide him back in the right direction instead of his distracted path to somewhere beneath her skin. The rough curve of his cheekbone was hot beneath her touch for only a second before he tore himself away.

“Hands off,” Cooper ordered, looking up at her through his lashes, lips damp and swollen and so very touchable. “Or I'll stop.”

“That's not fair.” Lucy said, drawing back against the dirt and squirming against the slowing pulse of his fingers because she wasn't sure she could handle it if he followed through with that particular threat. “You touch me all the time.”

“Life ain't fair.” Cooper promised with a dark flair of his eyes. “You'll see.” 

Then he hooked a forearm around her thigh to drag her closer to him across the ground and began to eat her proper, wet, obscene sounds filling the air as his tongue laved in quick swipes over her swelling clit and his fingers scissored in upward strokes to meet them in tandem. And though the mid day sun burned hot against her sweat-slicked skin, Lucy saw fucking stars above, dancing and flashing before her eyes in bright bursts of gold and royal blue.

“Fuck,” Lucy swore in a throaty groan and Cooper's tongue faltered once mid motion. “Just like that.” She gasped, hands falling palms up against the ground on either side of her head as he worked her higher and higher into the throes of something like madness, spine already tingling and muscles twitching from the over sensitivity still lingering on from her first small taste of pleasure…

This second orgasm crested slow, swelling over her in heavy waves as Cooper carried her unceasingly through it, continuing his relentless worship of her cunt with a single minded focus that she’d only elsewhere seen him use on those down the barrel of his gun.

“Does that make you Buffalo Bill?” Lucy asked breathless, a lifetime later, as her spine finally began to flatten and she remembered how to inhale.

His fingers slowed reluctantly to a stop, still inside her, and back during the first few times she used to wonder why. The job was done, the end goal reached, but he always kept touching her skin like he wanted to, exploring her inside and out even still, with the slight pet of his fingertips and hot, opened-mouthed kisses across the swell of her hips.

“Pardon?” Cooper asked absently from somewhere in between, voice muffled near the raised scar on her belly.

And Lucy laughed at the absurdity of it all. 

“You called me Annie Oakley earlier.” She reminded, looking down the length of her heaving chest to find his eyes. “Come to think of it, it may have been the first real compliment you've ever given me... She was a badass sharpshooter. Way ahead of her generation.” Lucy propped herself back up on her elbows and raised a quizzical brow at him. “And regardless of which version of her story you read, she out-shoots Bill every time. So-” and she gestured toward him.

But the indisputable facts only left an odd look on Cooper's face, teeth flashing back at her in a predatory smile from just above her skin. Like he was the only one of them on the inside of some incomprehensible joke. Then he actually laughed.

“That's why I bring the legacy of Buffalo Bill to mind in this scenario ‘a yours?” Cooper asked, exasperated. "The gunslingin'?" He nipped hard enough at her hip bone to make her hiss. Left pointed divots behind in the thin skin there. “Had me worried for a minute there, precious.” Then he slowly slid a pale fingertip up the middle of her stomach to the rise of her sternum.

And Lucy was left confused and underwhelmed at the newest pet name and his uncharacteristic lack of offense. 

“I'm saying I'm a better shot than you.” She clarified briskly. 

Then she watched the claim set across his features as if she herself were the punchline all along, burning a bit more life into his tightening eyes.

“Care to lose another wager then?” Cooper asked in lieu of taking the bait this time, shoulders lax and rounded as he shifted up over her, hands coming down to restrain hers on either side of her head. “Cause ya owe me ten caps already.”

“Try me.” Lucy said without faltering, because she actually was very good at riflery and reading (books, and lies, and straight through his bullshit, at this point) and fighting and fucking and a great deal of other survival skills… And she was so incredibly tired of feeling the need to dumb herself down to fit in some box that no longer existed. Especially not now on the ground between Cooper’s arms. Not when he looked down at her like that. Like not even he had control anymore.

“Tell ya what,” he started, raising a hand to lift his hat from his head, dropping it to the ground just above her own. “If you're able to aim for shit by the time I'm done with ya, we'll call it even, right? Double or nothin’.” He nodded, lowering himself down close into her space, the torn tendrils of his duster tickling where they dragged along the bare skin inside her knees, rugged lips slowing inches over hers and Lucy’s tongue darted out across her own chapped skin in preparation. Because right from the very beginning of it all, Cooper had been nothing if not terribly honest and true to his word. 

“Deal.” Lucy accepted easily, victorious either way.

Then with a quick dip of his hand between them and the promising cling of his belt buckle, she could feel the hot, thick pressure of him pressing insistent against her entrance, still slick and ready and desperately waiting. 

Even so, he gave her a moment to adjust, eyes like searing supernovas where they watched her expression from above as he pressed in slow, deeper and deeper until he was buried fully beneath her skin and she'd claimed another piece of him as her own.

Then Lucy exhaled her relief. Pushed the sweetness of his consideration far from the front of her mind. Looked up at him with all the pain she could gather beneath her fingers with the curl of her dull nails into the backs of his hands. Drew her plush bottom lip between her teeth and smiled in that endearing way she knew pissed him off…

“Go on then cowboy.” She bid, pressing him in closer with her heels against the backs of his sturdy thighs. “Or are you all talk and no substance?” She added when he didn't move right away, sealing her own sentence beneath the tightening of his hold.

He answered with the dip of his head in fevered disagreement, the frenzied press of his mouth searing down against her own. Then he was moving, hips rolling forward in punishing strokes that dug deep enough into the core of her body to drive out any other thoughts but him, and yes, and please, and it was the last she spoke apart from his name for a good long while. 

Twenty caps, she reminded herself later that evening, carefully Radawayed and still sprawled shapeless against Cooper’s chest across the cooling sand. She couldn't let herself forget.

Because she knew damn well that he wouldn't.

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 6

SUMMARY: What starts as a casual dinner invitation turns into an unforgettable evening filled with candid conversation, stolen glances, and a spark neither of you can deny. As Glen opens up about his busy life and surprising feelings, you both realize that maybe, just maybe, there’s something worth exploring between you.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5

WARNINGS: Implied alcohol consumption. Otherwise just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added!

You’re scrolling through emails, catching up on work notes for the next day, when your phone buzzes unexpectedly. Glen’s name flashes on the screen. A call, not a text. A call from Glen. You pause, your stomach flipping a little as you answer.

“Hey there,” his voice is warm and casual, yet somehow it carries a hint of hesitation.

“Hi, Glen.” You try to keep your tone steady, but you can’t help the little spark of excitement.

There’s a short pause on his end, then, “So, I was wondering… would you like to grab dinner tonight?” His words come out in a slightly rushed, almost nervous tone like he’s throwing the offer out before he second-guesses himself. “I thought it’d be nice to get out of the hotel for a bit. What do you think?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Dinner? Just… the two of us?”

“Yeah,” he replies, and you can hear the smile in his voice now. “Just us. If you’re up for it, I can pick you up around seven?”

Your mind races. It feels like a date—the tone, the way he’s asking—but he hasn’t exactly said it is a date. There’s an unspoken question in the air, one you’re almost afraid to answer too quickly. But the warmth of his voice draws you in, the idea of spending time with him outside of work too tempting to pass up.

“Sure,” you finally say, trying to sound as calm as possible. “I’d like that.”

“Perfect. What room are you in? I’ll come by and grab you,” he says, and the ease in his tone gives you a little more confidence. You tell him your room number, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

“Great, I’ll see you at seven,” he says, and you can almost picture his grin on the other end of the line. “And, uh… no rush or anything, but wear whatever you’re comfortable in. I’m just excited to spend some time together.”

You end the call, setting your phone down as you let out a deep breath. A soft smile spreads across your face. Whether it’s a date or not, it feels like something more. You’re already thinking about what to wear, feeling a little thrill at the idea of the evening to come.

You stand in the bathroom, brushing the last bit of blush across your cheeks. Your reflection looks back at you, polished yet understated, with soft, loose waves falling just past your shoulders. You wanted to go for a look that felt natural—something effortless but still flattering, that would hopefully mask the nerves buzzing just below the surface.

Taking a small step back, you take in the whole outfit, from the fitted black turtleneck top down to the skirt you’ve chosen. It’s a soft, flowy piece with a black base, decorated with a delicate pattern in muted red and dusty pink. The colors are subtle but add just enough contrast to make the outfit feel a little special. The high-waisted cut gives you a smooth silhouette, and the gentle flare of the skirt swishes lightly when you move, giving it an elegance that feels comfortable, not overdone.

You smooth your hands over the skirt’s fabric, fingers lingering as you imagine Glen’s reaction. There’s a thrill in that thought that catches you off guard, sparking another wave of butterflies.

You glance down at your black, closed-toe ankle-strap heels, adjusting the strap one last time. They’re comfortable enough to walk in but add that finishing touch, elevating the outfit without making it feel too dressed up. You take a step back, eyes returning to your reflection, feeling the weight of anticipation settle in.

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm the rush of thoughts swirling through your mind. It feels silly, standing here getting so worked up, but something about this night feels different. Special even. 

There’s a part of you that wants to know exactly what he’s thinking if he’s as aware of this shift between you as you are. You can feel it—the quiet thrill of wondering where the evening will lead, what might unfold beyond the ordinary moments you’ve shared on set.

With one last steadying breath, you nod to your reflection, silently telling yourself, You’ve got this. You pick up your clutch, adjust your hair one last time, and head to the door, ready to see what tonight might bring.

The knock pulls you from your thoughts, making your heart skip a beat. You smooth down your skirt, take a steadying breath, and walk to the door. As you open it, Glen stands before you, leaning casually against the doorframe with a soft smile that sends another ripple of nerves through you.

He’s dressed simply but so effortlessly put together. His caramel-brown, short-sleeve ribbed polo fits him just right, the collar slightly open at the neckline, adding a relaxed charm to his look. The warm tones suit him, accentuating the natural tan of his skin, while his light beige trousers complete the ensemble in a way that feels both casual and sophisticated—perfectly in sync with the easygoing confidence he seems to radiate.

Glen’s eyes sweep over you for a brief second, taking in your outfit with a look of quiet admiration that he doesn’t try to hide. “Wow,” he says, voice low and genuine. “You look great.”

You feel your cheeks warm, caught off guard by the directness of his compliment. “Thank you,” you reply, managing a small smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He laughs, an easy, relaxed sound that breaks the tension in the air. 

“Ready?” he asks, motioning for you to lead the way as you step out of your room and let the door click shut behind you. You feel his hand move to your lower back. His fingers, are warm and steady, and it’s such a small gesture, yet it somehow heightens the electric thrill of the moment.

As you walk toward the elevators, the conversation flows effortlessly, dipping in and out of lighthearted topics and banter. There’s something different in the air tonight—an unspoken awareness between you, as if each of you senses that this dinner might mean more than either has put into words.

In the elevator, there’s a comfortable silence, but every now and then, you feel Glen glance your way, and when you finally meet his eyes, he chuckles, slightly sheepish. “Sorry. I’m still kind of stunned that you said yes,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.

You laugh softly, looking down as you speak. “I don’t usually get asked out by my… clients? Coworkers?” You raise an eyebrow, playfully struggling with the right word.

“Yeah, maybe we should just call it co-workers,” Glen jokes, nudging you gently with his shoulder as the elevator doors open.

The two of you step into the lobby, and as you catch sight of the small crowd gathered just outside the glass doors, nerves flutter in your stomach. A few fans, mixed with paparazzi, wait with cameras ready, and the sight of flashing lights makes your pulse quicken.

Glen notices your reaction and looks down at you, his warm, steady gaze bringing you a bit of comfort.

He extends his arm with a reassuring smile. “Just stay close to me—I’ve got you.”

You loop your arm through his, grateful for the support as the two of you step towards the exit. Glen takes the lead, guiding you through the revolving doors. The noise swells as you step outside, the murmurs and clicking cameras growing louder. Your instinct is to keep your head down, focusing on each step to make sure you don’t trip in your heels.

“Hey, Glen!” a fan calls, and he lifts his free hand to wave, offering a friendly smile in response. You feel the press of the crowd around you tighten, and as the paparazzi lean in with cameras, one of them inches closer to you.

Suddenly, your hand slips from Glen’s elbow, making you instinctively pull back. Glen glances over his shoulder, quickly catching sight of you just a step behind. Without a second thought, he reaches back, his hand finding yours and pulling you closer. The gesture is so natural, but it feels grounding, like an anchor in the whirlwind of people and flashing lights around you.

“Could you guys give us a little space?” he says, his tone polite but firm as he shields you from the encroaching cameras. His hand is warm and steady around yours, and you find yourself focusing on that touch as he guides you forward, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease.

He steers you toward a sleek, black rental car waiting at the curb. Still holding your hand, he lets go only to open the passenger door, stepping slightly in front of you to shield you from the cameras. Once you’re safely inside, he closes the door and walks around to the driver’s side, brushing off the crowd’s lingering attention with an air of calm.

As he slips into the driver’s seat, he glances over at you, a small, reassuring smile on his face. “You good?” he asks, his voice softening now that it’s just the two of you again.

You give Glen a warm smile, nodding in response to his question. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks for the rescue back there.” You manage a small laugh, still a little breathless from the experience outside, but grateful for his steadying presence.

“Anytime,” he replies, flashing you a smile as he starts the car, his gaze briefly flickering to you before he pulls out onto the road. The city lights stream past as the quiet hum of the car settles you, the fast-paced energy of the crowd outside fading with each block.

“So, I hope you’re in the mood for Italian,” Glen says, his voice casual but with a hint of excitement. “I found this place not too far from the hotel that everyone’s been raving about. Figured it was worth a try.”

Your face lights up at the mention of Italian food, and you nod eagerly. “Italian is always a good idea. And if it’s somewhere you’ve heard great things about, then I’m definitely in.”

He chuckles, giving a satisfied nod. “Glad to hear it. Thought I’d try and make a solid impression,” he teases lightly.

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Oh? So is this you pulling out all the stops?”

“Just a few of them,” he admits, his eyes twinkling as he glances over at you. “Gotta keep some surprises up my sleeve.”

The relaxed, warm atmosphere inside the car makes your nerves start to dissolve, replaced by the fluttery anticipation of what the rest of the night might bring.

As Glen pulls up to the restaurant, the warm glow of the exterior lights welcomes you. He parks smoothly and shifts into park before turning to you with a bright smile. “Ready for a great meal?” he asks, his excitement evident.

“Absolutely,” you reply, your own anticipation bubbling up as you glance at the charming exterior.

He steps out and walks around the car, opening the door for you.

“After you,” he says, extending a hand to help you out. You take his hand, feeling a spark at the touch as he gently guides you out onto the sidewalk.

Glen hands the keys to the valet, then rests his hand on your lower back as he leads you toward the entrance. The feel of his touch sends another flutter of nerves through you, but it’s a comforting sensation amidst the excitement.

Inside, the restaurant is cozy and inviting, filled with the rich aroma of garlic and herbs. The dim lighting casts a soft glow over the elegant decor, with wooden beams overhead and warm, rustic tables that give the place a homey feel. You can hear the soft clink of glasses and the quiet hum of conversation, punctuated by the occasional laughter from nearby tables.

The hostess greets you with a warm smile and checks the reservation list. “Right this way,” she says, gesturing for you to follow her.

As you walk through the restaurant, you notice the decor—framed photographs of Italy lining the walls, lush green plants peeking from every corner, and soft Italian music playing in the background.

She leads you to a somewhat private table nestled in the back, away from the hustle and bustle. Glen reaches for your chair, pulling it out for you with a charming smile. “Ladies first,” he says, and you can’t help but blush slightly as you take your seat.

After you settle in, the hostess hands each of you a menu. As you both peruse the menus, the ambiance of the restaurant wraps around you like a warm embrace. The flickering candlelight casts dancing shadows, and the tantalizing aromas from the kitchen make your stomach growl softly.

“I think we should start with an appetizer,” you suggest, tapping the menu lightly. “What do you think about Bruschetta or maybe Caprese?”

Glen’s eyes widen slightly, and he shifts in his seat, giving you a nervous look. “Uh, about that…” he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have this weird thing about cheese. I don’t really eat it.”

You blink in surprise for a moment but quickly brush it off with a smile. “That’s okay! How about we go with something else then? Stuffed Mushrooms, maybe?”

Glen looks visibly relieved but hesitates again, a sheepish smile creeping onto his face. “Are you sure it’s not weird that I don’t like cheese?”

“Not at all,” you assure him, leaning forward slightly. “Everybody has something unusual they don’t like. It’s what makes us human.”

He nods a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “Okay, then what’s your weird or unusual thing you don’t like?”

You chuckle lightly, enjoying the playful banter. “Well, I’m allergic to agave, so I don’t drink tequila. It’s not that I don’t like it; I just can’t.”

Glen feigns a dramatic gasp, placing a hand over his heart. “Oh no, this thing between us might not go well if I can’t share tequila with you!” He laughs, the sound bright and infectious, and you can’t help but join in.

“Maybe you’ll just have to find a different drink to buy me,” you suggest, your heart feeling lighter with every moment shared.

“Perfect!” Glen grins, his previous nervousness fading as the conversation flows naturally. “It sounds like we’ll still have a great time, even without the cheese and tequila drama.”

As the laughter continues, you feel the initial butterflies settle into a comfortable rhythm, excited to learn more about each other as the evening unfolds.

As the waitress arrives to take your appetizer order, Glen’s energy seems to spike, and he leans in slightly, excitement shining in his eyes. 

“So, I’ve been meaning to tell you about a couple of projects I’ve signed on for. One’s a romantic comedy! Can you believe it?” His voice carries a hint of incredulity, and you can’t help but grin at his enthusiasm.

“I can totally believe it,” you reply, feeling a rush of excitement for him. “I thought you were great in Anyone But You and Set It Up, so I’m sure you’ll do amazing in this next one!”

Glen’s eyes widen in surprise, a smile spreading across his face. “Wait, you’ve seen those? Really?”

You chuckle, feeling a bit sheepish. “I might be a little partial to a good rom-com.”

“Then you’ll love this one!” he says, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. “I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“What’s it about?” You ask, genuinely thrilled for him.

“It’s about a guy who has to fake a relationship with his childhood friend to convince his family that he’s settled down. It’s got a lot of heart and some hilarious moments.” He chuckles, rubbing his hands together as if he can hardly contain his excitement.

You nod, feeling the warmth of his enthusiasm wash over you. “That’s fantastic! I can already picture you in it.” Then you remember the offer you received a few days ago, a flutter of nerves mixing with excitement. “Speaking of projects, I actually got an offer for a role last week. It’s a lead hair and makeup position for a new Nextflix  drama series that’s going to start filming next month.”

Glen’s eyes widen with genuine happiness. “Really? That’s incredible! I knew you’d get something big soon. You deserve it!” He leans back in his chair, a broad smile spreading across his face. The way he celebrates your success makes your heart flutter. It’s rare to find someone who is not only talented but also genuinely supportive of others.

“It’s still in the early stages, but I’m really excited about it,” you say, your voice brimming with enthusiasm as you share the details. “The story revolves around family dynamics, and I get to work with some pretty big names. I can’t wait to start!”

“That’s amazing! I can already see you nailing it,” he replies, the admiration in his voice clear. “I mean, you’re already so talented, and I can’t imagine how great you’ll be in something like that. Have you met any of the cast yet?”

You shake your head, feeling the adrenaline of both excitement and nerves. “Not yet! I’ll be meeting them for the first time in a few weeks once we wrap up filming this. I hope they’re as cool as they seem.”

“They will be,” Glen reassures you, his gaze steady and encouraging. “With your talent and charm, I bet you’ll fit right in. Just be yourself!”

His confidence in you is so uplifting, and as the conversation continues, there’s a seamless flow between the two of you, punctuated by laughter and shared stories. You find yourself reveling in this moment, feeling a connection grow deeper, not just over shared experiences but also in the way he genuinely seems to care about your success. It feels effortless, and you’re grateful for the lighthearted atmosphere, the way you can both share and celebrate your journeys with one another.

As your conversation continues to flow seamlessly, the waitress returns to the table, her notepad ready. “Are you two ready for the check?” she asks, glancing between the two of you.

Glen nods, a relaxed smile on his face. “Yes, please. Is it going to be one check or two?”

“One check,” he replies without hesitation, a hint of confidence in his voice.

You raise an eyebrow, feeling a spark of protest. “Wait, are you sure? I can chip in my part. It was my suggestion to get the stuffed mushrooms, after all.”

Glen shakes his head firmly, a playful glint in his eyes. “No way. You’re my guest tonight. Let me treat you.”

You cross your arms playfully, trying to feign indignation. “But I don’t want to take advantage of you!”

“Trust me, you’re not,” he insists, leaning back slightly and folding his arms with a smile. “Just let me do this.”

With a reluctant sigh, you finally relent, your lips curving into a small smile. “Fine, but only if I can treat you next time.”

Glen grins, the light in his eyes growing brighter. “Deal.”

As the waitress sets down the check, Glen quickly reaches for it, pulling out his card with a triumphant flourish. You watch, amused, as he takes care of the payment, your initial protest fading into a sense of warmth at his gesture.

As the dinner draws to a close, you stand up from the table, feeling the slight rush of excitement that comes with the end of a wonderful dinner. Glen moves closer, his hand reaching for yours, intertwining your fingers effortlessly. A warm flutter runs through you as he leads you toward the exit, his touch grounding and reassuring.

Once outside, you both pause near the valet station, and his hand finds its way to your lower back once more. You glance up to find him smiling down at you, his expression genuine. 

“I’m really glad you came tonight,” he says, the warmth in his voice making your heart skip a beat.

You return the smile, feeling a lightness in your chest. “I’m glad I came too. This was... really nice.”

The valet arrives with Glen’s car, and as he takes the keys, he glances back at you. “So, are you ready to go back to the hotel? Or if you’re up for it, I was thinking we could grab a drink somewhere nearby. There’s a place I’ve been too that’s really good not far from here.”

A drink sounds nice, a perfect way to extend the evening just a little longer. You nod, a smile creeping onto your face. “A drink sounds great.”

“Awesome. Let’s go!” he replies, his excitement contagious as he opens the car door for you. You slip inside, feeling a mix of anticipation and comfort as the evening unfolds before you, knowing that the night isn’t quite over yet.

Arriving at the bar, Glen parks and comes around to open your door. You’re both laughing as you step onto the sidewalk when a small group of fans spots him, excitement sparking in their expressions. A few call his name, while others shyly approach, asking for pictures. 

He turns to you, clearly torn between spending time with you and not wanting to disappoint them. You smile, placing a hand on his arm. “Go ahead, Glen. I’ll head inside and grab us a table. Take your time.”

His shoulders relax as he gives a nod, gratitude shining in his eyes. “Thanks. I won’t be long.” 

You share a quick smile before turning and making your way through the bar’s entrance, sneaking one last look back to see him greeting fans and posing for pictures.

Inside, the place is cozy with warm lighting, chatter filling the space as groups of friends and couples laugh around tables and booths. Towards the back, you spot a secluded booth that seems perfect, and you settle in just as a waitress comes by with a drink menu.

“Just a water for now, thanks,” you say with a polite smile, skimming the menu and glancing toward the door now and then. The comfortable ambiance of the bar mixed with the anticipation of the evening fills you with a relaxed excitement as you wait for Glen to join you, eager to see where the night leads next.

A few minutes pass, and then you spot Glen stepping inside the bar. His gaze scans the room briefly before landing on you, and a smile tugs at his lips as he heads over. Sliding into the booth beside you, he settles close enough for his knee to brush yours under the table, a comfortable closeness that brings warmth to the quiet corner.

“Thanks for saving me a seat,” he says with a wink, picking up the menu.

You smile back, feeling the flutter in your stomach return as the two of you start looking through the drink options together. The waitress soon returns, and you both place your orders before she leaves again, leaving you and Glen alone in the soft, dim lighting.

For a moment, there’s a shared, content silence between you as he leans back, looking completely at ease, his arm draped casually along the booth. He looks at you, a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that surprises you, and he lets out a small breath before speaking.

“I’ll be honest,” he begins, his voice softer than before. “I wasn’t really looking to get into a relationship. I didn’t think I had the time…or really the right lifestyle for it with everything going on. Between filming, traveling, and all these upcoming projects—I just thought it would be too complicated, you know?”

You nod, sensing the weight behind his words, and he continues, his hand moving absently along the edge of the table.

“But with you…” He pauses, meeting your gaze directly, a small smile creeping up as he says, “I don’t know, it just feels different. Like maybe it could work if we both want it to. I really like you, and I’d like to see where this could go.”

A mix of excitement and nerves bubbles up in you, and you find yourself nodding. “I really like you too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “And to be honest, I’m a little scared to put myself out there. But…being around you just feels right.”

Glen’s expression softens, and he reaches to cover your hand with his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe we don’t have to put a label on it just yet. We can take it slow and keep it just between us for now—see where things go.”

You smile, feeling warmth spread through you at his words. “I’d like that.”

The drive back to the hotel is quiet, both of you savoring the comfortable silence that’s settled between you. Glen occasionally glances over, a subtle smile pulling at his lips every time your eyes meet. When he finally parks, he walks around to open your door, taking your hand as he leads you back inside and up to your room.

Outside your door, you turn to him with a smile, feeling a bit breathless from the night. “Thank you for such a great time tonight,” you say, your voice soft.

He smiles, moving just a little closer as his hand rests lightly on your hip, grounding you in the moment. “I should be the one thanking you. It’s been a while since I’ve had a night like this.” There’s a brief silence, and he looks at you, his eyes soft. “Would you want to do it again sometime?”

You feel your heart skip, and a smile spreads across your face. “I’d like that.”

For a second, you wonder if he’s about to say goodbye and head back down the hall. But then, with a warm, almost tentative look, he leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, gentle kiss, one hand lifting to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your cheek. You let your hand come up to rest against his chest, kissing him back as your eyes flutter closed, lost in the warmth and softness of the moment.

When he pulls back, there’s a look in his eyes that mirrors your own—a mixture of excitement and contentment, and the quiet promise of something more.

You both share a warm smile, the quiet energy between you lingering as Glen steps back, hands sliding into his pockets. You turn to your purse, reaching for your hotel room key card, when you feel him lean in once more. 

Before you can react, he brushes another gentle, lingering kiss to your lips, leaving you breathless all over again.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs, his voice soft and sincere, eyes meeting yours for one last moment. 

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words settle over you, and with a quiet, “Goodnight, Glen,” you slip inside, closing the door with your heart still racing, holding onto the sweetness of his kiss.

[aurorasgate]

gojos hands and all the ways he uses them to show you he loves you 

warnings: 18+MINORS DNI, afab!reader, super self indulgent, very in love gojo <3, soft and sweet and smutty heh, hand kink obvi, finger sucking, a little bit of cum eating, dacryphilia if you squint, orgasm denial, overstimulation anddd i think that’s all lol

they're the hands that protect you with that immense power behind them, not letting curses and other filth touch you or harm you in any way. even when you were strong on your own, his hands would be yours to hold and count upon until his last breath

always poking your cheeks when you’re trying to be mad at him but he’s all smiles and teasing words towering over you, making it hard not to smile and giggle too, forget why you were even made at him in the first place. forbid he flash you his eyes as well, he knew how easy it would make you puddy in his hands

they’re the weight on your lower back that helps you through crowds, encourages you to stand your ground, remind you that you will always have him by your side; through every up and down, through the curse and blessing that is love, he’s sworn himself to you

so very touchy hands that can’t resist your cute butt as you pass by him, no matter where you are or who you’re around. shameless fingers that sink into the softest parts of your skin and relish in the way that you are his; his to love, his to annoy and make smile for the rest of time, his family, his sweetest treat, his home

hands that reach for you in the middle of the night when his restless mind won’t let him sleep. they pull you close and feel over nearly every inch of you just to be sure you’re still here, unharmed and unwilling to leave him just as much as he is you

they wake you on accident but you never mind, always turning around to be face to face with him, to kiss his brow and remind him of your promise to never leave as his hands find their way under your night shirt just to feel more of your warmth, to feel the rise and fall of your breath, the steady beat of your heart, beneath his palms

they’re the hands that brush away your tears after a long day, that cradle your face at the perfect angle so he can kiss away every worry, every insecurity, every stress, even if he was the cause of it

they’re the reason you can’t pull away when he’s teasing you, when you flush under his attention and try to hide those heart filled eyes when he showers you in affection, when his fingers ghosting over you lips as he drinks you in over and over again

annoyingly strong hands that can easily tickle you and leave you with no fighting chance to get away. they tease you the same too, squishing your cheeks and booping your nose, pulling you into his lap no matter who's around, resting on your inner thigh and tracing his fingers along your skin

but they’re home too. the first thing you reach for when you run into him, lacing your fingers together and standing on your toes to kiss under his jaw. what you playfully bite when you just can’t stop touching him while he’s busy with something else. they’re the hands you reach for when you’re drowning and that pull you from the rocky waves. what you trace the veins and lines of when the world around you is too much but he’s there to help you through it all

the hands you kiss when he can’t keep them to himself, that capture your giggles and whispers of his name, that help guide you into his lap and keep your chest pressed closed to his own. forehead to forehead after you lift off his mask and get lost in snowy white hair with fingers just as greedy as his own

oh and his are so very greedy

they’re gentle and loving and know how to make you writhe. soft enough to peel away with ease the most delicate of lace that adorns your body but impatient and strong enough to rip your clothes off of you if he found himself just a bit needier

hands that would never hurt you but with benevolent force can easily move your body to his will and he’s never been one to not indulge in that. not with how lovely it was to grab ahold of your thighs and feel them flex around his waist as he carries you to bed or the nearest surface that he could take you on, lift your body so he could reach deeper. not with how crazy it made him to feel beneath your clothes and have you grabbing at his own

they’re hands that can tease you enough you swear you could cry if he didn’t touch you more soon but they aren’t immune to your pleas for him either. and he loves the way you react to him drawing his name into your clit in motions that are somehow too much and not enough until he has to feel more of you and is cursing at how tight your soaking cunt is around just one of his fingers

he loves how his hands get sticky with your essence in no time, proof that he knows your body so well, that he’s making you feel good and fuck he’s feeling good too, cock straining against his pants at your tight walls clenching around his fingers but you still beg for more of him

they bring you to the highest highs, show you love and care and just how much he is utterly obsessed with you. they wipe your tears when he’s not letting you cum while his other plays with your clit, when his fingers only tease at your needy hole but never give you what you need. he hears your pretty noises and words, they float down to his ears as he kisses and marks your chest with his lips but it only spurs him to do this more

when he finally does give in, whether it be to his will or your own, his hands hold you like you are the most precious thing in the world. and you are, of that satoru has no doubt when he pushes in the pretty pink tip of his cock and already feels you squeezing around him, sucking him in

they’re hands that know their strength, that are holding back with every inch of this thick length that you take but even still they are surely to be finger shaped bruises of your thighs in the morning when he’s done with you

he loves you so very much and he knows you know when he brings his hand from between your leg, that has been rubbing your clit and getting coating in your wetness and his leaking precum, to your lips and slips his fingers inside your eager mouth, groaning and fighting the urge to cum right now as you suck and lick his fingers clean, fucked out and pretty spread out beneath him

they’re large and warm and soft when they cradle your face and he's cooing at you for being so good, taking him so well, like you were made for him. his eyes always heavy with lust, your figure blurred through white lashes but he doesn’t, can’t, take his eyes off of you. his fingers twitch against your skin and you lean into his touch like you need him. with a few more deep thrusts, he’s spilling his cum inside of you, groaning honied and sweet against your lips, kissing you deep, tasting your tongue

satorus hands are insatiable. still holding you as he pleases, collecting the mixes of your release just to pump them back into your overstimulated pussy, give you more one because you deserved it, because he loves to see you, touch you, like this and he could never ever get enough of you

comments & reblogs would be so greatly appreciated!<3

main masterlist

[devilat-thedoor]

Feel the Rhythm

okayokayokay🤍

i don't know if this has been done before already, but i've been having a few rough days in danny lane and couldn't get this image out of my head. therefore, i wrote it...💖

Pairing: Daniel Wagner x f!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Pure filth, really. 18+ as always, Minors DNI. dom!Danny, thigh riding, fingering, light choking.

The hallway was empty as you wandered through the building. When Danny called after you’d gotten off work, he had told you that his solo practice was running later than planned. “Honey, I was really looking forward to dinner with you tonight.” You pouted through the phone and he let out a breathy chuckle before suggesting that you pick up food and come to the studio for dinner. “Okay, yeah. I’ll be there in a bit. Love you.” You’d driven home to change your clothes and then stopped to grab the takeout.

Now, you moved down the long corridor, looking over the plaques outside each door for the studio number that he said he’d be in. The food smelled delicious, causing your stomach to growl. You almost gave up out of pure impatience and broke the bags open in the middle of the hallway. But then, by chance, you passed it. Studio 7. Right where he said he’d be. Reaching for the door handle, you twisted it, praying that you weren’t interrupting. As you stepped in the room, closing the door, you were surprised to find it empty. Nobody sat at the soundboard. You moved to the center of the room, placing the bag of takeout on the small table in front of a leather sofa and looking through the glass panes, into the booth. There was no sign of anybody, just Danny’s practice kit sitting in the middle of the soundproofed room. “What the hell?” Pulling your phone out of your purse, you clicked over your boyfriend’s contact at the top of the recents list and held it to your ear. The faint ringing could just barely be heard, you held your phone to your chest, listening hard for where it was coming from. Toeing closer to the sound booth door, hanging slightly ajar, you realized the ringing was coming from inside. You pushed the door open, following the sound to the drum set, where Danny’s phone sat atop the snare with his sticks. Blowing out a huff, you hung up the call and watched his phone go dark and silent.

You looked around the room, searching for any clue as to where he may have gone off to, but came up short as your eyes traveled back to the kit in front of you. One of the cymbals glinted beneath the dimmed lights and you reached out, running your finger over the grooved metal. Visions of him, tucked behind his stage kit, flashed through your mind. His focused face and bare chest, glistening with sweat. His big hands, gripping the sticks and beating down on the drums. It was villainous, the way he was forced to stay behind the plethora of equipment, obstructing his body from the crowd’s line of sight. The way his biceps flexed or his legs bounced every time he hit the pedal. You clenched your thighs at the image, pushing it away into the depths of your brain before it had the chance to make your panties wet. Taking a seat on his stool, you hissed when your lounge shorts rode up, exposing your bare legs to the cold leather. You picked up Danny’s phone, placing it on the floor with your own and then grabbed the drumsticks, fitting them in your hands. He always made it look so effortless when he played, carrying a perfect rhythm through every song. Your foot found the pedal, tapping it, and you jumped, startled by the loud thud. Laughing quietly to yourself, you did it again, and then again. The sound vibrated your chest and you closed your eyes, soaking it in. When you opened them again, you looked down at the sticks in your grasp and brought one up, tapping it to a drum on your right. You weren’t entirely sure which drum it was, but you kept going, hitting it again before directing your attention at the cymbals to your left. You tried to work out a beat, but you really had no clue what you were doing. Your foot continued pressing the pedal, trying to get a solid bass beat, but your arms wouldn’t work in tune with it, making everything sound very choppy. Your laugh echoed through the room as you kept going, having a thoroughly good time.

“You trying to steal my job, angel?” Danny’s voice surprised you, eliciting a squeal as you fumbled with the drumsticks. 

You held them against your chest to stop them from dropping and looked up at him, standing in the doorway, “I don’t know how you do this for hours, babe. My arms are aching and I’ve only been at it for like ten minutes.” 

He chuckled, stepping in and closing the door behind him, locking all the sound in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here already. I ran downstairs to grab a drink.” He walked towards you, his long legs closing the distance in just a few strides. You bit your lip as you caught a full glimpse of him, short shorts and a cut-off t-shirt that left his sides exposed.

He came up behind you and you tilted your head to him as he leaned down, greeting you with a soft kiss. “It’s only been about 15 minutes, Daniel, I’m fine. I’ve been keeping myself entertained.” You giggled, hitting a stick on the snare drum.

His hands gripped your shoulders as he hummed, “You look good behind the drums, sweetheart. Hot.”

“Yeah, too bad I can’t play for shit or I’d really give you a run for your money.” You leaned back, resting your back against his thighs and your head against his lower belly. His fingers rubbed into your skin, massaging little circles and you let your eyes fall shut, a quiet groan escaping your throat at the relaxing feeling.

“It wasn’t that bad. Here, sit up.” He pushed you forward to sit straight, “Put your foot back on the pedal and tap it a few times to get a steady rhythm going.” He pointed to the floor and waited for you to obey his command. His other hand stayed on your shoulder, fingers tapping along with the single beat you created using the bass drum. Once he was satisfied with the tempo, he threw out more directions. “Okay, good girl.” The praise went straight to your core, sparking a fire. But before you could react, he was speaking again, “Now, tap the high tom just like this,” His fingers drummed on your shoulder, mimicking what he wanted you to do. “And then the snare like this…” His other hand tapped on your opposite shoulder.

Tilting your head again to gaze up at him, you gave an innocent smile, “Babe, I know the bass and the snare, you gotta draw me a map, here.” You waved your hand over the set, holding eye contact with him.

He smirked down at you, a certain glint in his eyes, and hooked his hands under your arms, lifting you to stand. You didn’t get a chance to question him before he was sliding on to the stool and pulling you down in his lap. Settling into him, you tried to ignore the hand he had grasping your hip while he pointed from left to right, listing all the different pieces of his kit. “This one is the high tom, angel. So look,” He shifted you onto his right leg as he got into position and put his right foot over the bass pedal. “Gimme your hands.” You obliged, allowing him to wrap his big hands around yours and he began tapping his foot, kicking the bass. “Just feel the beat with me for a minute and then you can try on your own, yeah?”

You nodded, entirely distracted by the way his thigh muscles flexed between your legs with every tap of his foot. “Okay.” Your voice was quiet and you thought you heard him chuckle, but then his arms were moving with yours, drumming on the snare. It started out simple, a few light hits with your left hands. And then your right hands came up, working at the high tom. Your smile was beaming as you listened to the beat he created using your hands. His leg moved quicker, bouncing beneath you and when he shifted slightly to hit the crash cymbal, you felt him right on your covered clit. You ripped your hands from his, dropping the sticks as a shudder rolled through your body. “Shit.” 

Though you couldn’t see it, Danny had a mischievous smirk planted on his face as he eyed you. “Was I moving too fast, baby?” He bent to pick up the sticks. You gave your head a gentle shake, unable to look at him as you chewed on your cheek. He could see the way you fought to keep your breathing even, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “How about you just sit tight and watch?” You didn’t get a chance to respond as he started moving again, his foot kicking slowly at first. He made sure you felt every hard drop of his leg as he hit the pedal with force, the loud thuds filling the room. You couldn’t stop your hips from rolling, begging for friction through the thin material of your shorts. Your boyfriend welcomed the movements, picking up speed and tapping out a simple beat. “You feel that, angel?” His breath was hot on your neck, “Because I can feel you soaking my leg.”

Your eyes fluttered closed and you relaxed into his chest, grinding harder against his strong thigh. “Hmm. Fuck, Danny…” His name tumbled from your lips in a whimper, causing his dick to harden. “So good, babe. You’re s-so good.” Your words fueled him to work harder, moving around your body to hit the kit, bouncing his leg faster.

His teeth nipped your shoulder, drawing a gasp out of you. “You’ve got less than 20 minutes before the sound tech comes back.” You could barely hear him as you focused on chasing your orgasm, “Make it count.”

“Touch me, Danny. Please touch me.” You begged, pleaded to him, but he just snickered in return, making you work for it. It wasn’t nearly enough and you were growing more and more desperate by the second. He knew, but refused to give you what you wanted. Frustrated, you sat up, yanking the sticks from his hands and tossed them to the side. He didn’t like that.

Grabbing a handful of your hair, he pulled you back against his chest again. “Now, why would you do that?” His voice was dangerously low and you would’ve been worried had you not so badly needed release. “You were being such a good girl…” He clicked his tongue, his free hand coming up to circle your throat. “You’re gonna have to really earn it now, you fucking brat.” A whine escaped you as he took the hand that was tangled in your hair and dropped it to your covered pussy, pushing against your clit. You writhed in his hold as he drew circles, keeping featherlight pressure on your clit while squeezing your neck. Your hips began to move against his hand and halted his movements, slapping his palm against your cunt. “Don’t do that, you know better… You wanted me to touch you so bad.” He was taunting you.

The sharp contact sent a jolt through you and you gripped his opposite leg with your left hand. “Baby, please. I can’t take it anymore.” You were panting as his fingers went back to teasing you.

“Oh, you’re gonna take it like this or I’ll have you warm my cock until I finish practice…” He nudged your ear with nose, his tongue licking your lobe, “And I can promise you, that won’t result in an orgasm.” He’s fucking evil.

“No!” The panic was clear in your tone, “This, Daniel. This is- I’ll be good now, please. Just-.” He added more pressure to your aching clit, listening to the desperate moans spilling from your mouth. Your eyes flashed to the clock on the wall. “Ten minutes…” You were panting, trying your damnedest not to grind into him. He finally relented, letting his hand dip into your shorts, under your panties. “Ohhh. Fuck, right there.” Your breath hitched in your throat as his calloused fingers slid through your folds and he pushed two inside of you. “Thank you, baby. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, all that mattered was the way he instantly found your g spot.

His hand dropped from your throat to lay flat across your abdomen, locking you tightly against him as his fingers fucked you into oblivion. “There she is… That’s my sweet girl.” He was leaving wet kisses on your neck and across your shoulder, whispering the sweetest things to you. You were right on the brink and he knew it, could feel you squeezing around his hand. “You gonna give it to me, angel? Let me have you?” His thumb brushed over your clit, sending you plummeting into your climax.

Your eyes rolled back as your whole body went stiff in his hands. “Shi- I- Danny…” His name was the only coherent thing to leave you as you turned to mush. Your hand came up to cup his face as he eased you through the orgasm, slowing his fingers to a stop. You slumped against him, completely spent and breathless.

When he pulled his fingers from your shorts, he brought them up to your mouth, “Clean them.” You obeyed, opening your mouth to take them in. You sucked your release off of them as he pushed them further into throat, forcing a gag, “Hmm. Good girl.” He hummed in approval as he drew his fingers from your mouth. His hand gripped your chin, turning your face to kiss your lips. His tongue licked over your bottom lip, tasting the remnants of your arousal on it. Just as a growl creeped up his throat, a knock sounded on the glass panes. Your head whipped in the direction, seeing the sound tech on the other side of it.

You looked back to Danny in horror, but he was cool, calm and collected as the man spoke through the mic and into the booth, “Hey, man. I’m ready whenever you are.” He didn’t show any sign of having seen the display you had just put on.

Daniel gave him a simple thumbs up and turned to whisper to you, “Go eat, I’ll be finished up soon and then I’m taking you home.” He pinched your asscheek, eliciting a yelp from you. You kissed him one last time before standing and exiting the sound booth, dripping with anticipation.