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harksness · 2 days

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No Going Back CH 2

A/N: ok stick with me thru this there's gonna be some delicious Agatha moments soon but I gotta set up some tension first thank u <3

WC: 2.8k

Your mother lies below your little feet. She's twisting, turning, the carpet scrunching under her body with her desperate movements as she looks up at you with wide, pained eyes.

And there he is above her. A man that's so familiar, but you don't know what he looks like. Tall and looming, just completely a shadow.

With her final breath she choked out a spell and reaches a weak hand towards you, and you feel her warm, soft magic washing over you in comforting waves.

That was the moment you realized that everyone has a piece of themselves in their magic. As the shadowed man scooped you up you screamed, slapping and scratching but too powerless to stop him.

His magic felt like a knife, a sharp, serrated edge. Like barbed wire dragging over your skin as his magic tore into you, then tore deeper and deeper, down into something that wasn't even a physical part of you. He was reaching for your magic. That untapped well of vibrant blue power inside of you, he was clawing and tearing his way through you to get to it.

But he couldn't cut deep enough. He couldn't reach.

He kept trying to force it deeper, you could feel the pull as he kept desperately trying to rip it from your chest like your beating heart, but he just couldn't reach it.

Your mind went numb as you screamed and cried until your voice was gone, just a desperate wheeze as you waited for it to end.

He didn't stop trying for a long time.

You just stared at your mother, her wide, lovely eyes that had long since gone cold. Waiting for that serrated edge to finally cut deep enough and sever that last little string tethering you to reality.

But it never did.

And he's still waiting. Still trying.

Your eyes fly open and a groggy shout bursts past your lips as you jolt forward, desperately trying to escape your nightmare. Your chest heaves, deep breaths tearing through your throat as you take in your surroundings.

The light shining through the window blinds you for a moment and intensifes the pain pounding against your skull. Your rapidly thrumming heart starts to slow at the realization that you're safe.

You take calculated, deep breaths to calm yourself down. With each one you feel it eating away at the fear and anxiety, swallowing hard as you do your best to shrug off the nightmare.

This is a normal part of your morning routine.

That shadowed man comes to you in your dreams every night. Even on the rare occasions where he's not the main focus, you see him and feel his presence. Standing in the background, lingering in a doorway, always watching you, always waiting to finish what he started all of those years ago when he left you for dead in your own home next to your mother's body.

That man haunts your dreams and ensures you never forget what happened. He makes sure you know that he hasn't forgotten about you.

That he's still waiting.

The door opens and you turn your head to the source of the noise, eyes fluttering desperately at the pain crushing around your skull and throbbing against your shoulder. Your stepmother enters the room, and you feel as if you can breathe a bit easier at the sight of her.

Her eyes widen when she sees you sitting awake and staring at her.

"Oh thank goodness, you're awake!"

She rushes to your side, fussing over you and your injuries.

"How do you feel?"

You groan out in pain, cradling your damaged arm to your chest.

"Not good.. Why does everything hurt.."

You wheeze out and she's moving to the nightstand as you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to get rid of the pain in your skull and the spinning all around you.

"You have a concussion.. And a sprained shoulder, sweetheart.. Here, take these."

You open your eyes just a crack to look at her and you notice her holding out two little pills in her palm and a glass of water. You suddenly realize how thirsty you are as you take the medicine from her, downing them and the full glass of water in a few greedy gulps. She takes the glass from you when you're done.

That's when you feel stable enough to really be able to take in your surroundings, having adjusted a bit to the pain suffocating you in dull throbs. You're in the guest bedroom of your childhood home, but it feels more like a hospital with the blank white walls, white bed frame, and white sheets and blankets. The only bit of color is in the wooden floor, dresser and door, but that's about it. It makes you a bit uneasy as you clear your throat.

"What happened?"

Your voice is scratchy as you speak but she doesn't look at you, eyes set firmly on the sheets covering your lap and features heavy with upset.

"Your father will explain that."

She grumbles, disappointment lacing her voice as she goes to stand.

"Please.."

You beg, mustering up the most desperate look you can. She finally looks at you, guilt heavy on her features as she sighs out your name softly, smoothing down her skirt as she goes to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry. Please know that I wasn't happy about how your father decided to go about this. I tried to talk him out of it, but, well.. You know how he gets."

You nod your head in understanding. The two of you have never been exceptionally close, she has four of her own biological children to worry about, but she's always looked out for you and been kind. She's even stood up to your father for you when it was needed. You've always been grateful for her.

"I understand.. I know him and I know you.. Please, tell me."

Reluctantly, she starts, analyzing your features carefully with every word that slips past her lips.

"Look.. I think this would be best coming from your father. But I know how bad he is about handling these sorts of things, so I'm going to give you a precursor..."

She twists her hands nervously while you hold your breath, waiting for her to speak, your mind running a mile a minute over every possible thing she could be about to say.

"Someone has been targeting the firstborns of the elder families.."

Your heart drops into your stomach.

"We think-"

"It's him?"

You can't help but interrupt her, panic freezing your insides as fear numbs your mind. Carefully, she nods her head.

"It could be.."

She says softly, speaking to you like she's handling the worlds most breakable glass as you seize up.

"We don't know for sure yet.."

You don't hesitate a second longer, that fear flinging your mind into panic mode as you push the blankets off of your lap and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You hiss out in pain, your shoulder heavy and aching and your skull throbbing, but you push through it. Your stepmother is trying to stop you, but not knowing how to physically do so without hurting you more.

A wave of dizziness washes over you once your bare feet are planted on the cool wooden floor, the room spinning as she keeps you steady. You balance yourself on the nightstand, cluttered with water and the contents of a first aid kit as you heave out breaths, desperately trying to keep your head from spinning as you sway on your feet.

"Please! Sit back down!"

You squeeze your eyes shut, ignoring her words. She yells out as the table collapses under your weight, tipping over and dumping all of its contents onto the ground with a prolonged crash. By some miracle you stay standing, and she's rushing to clean up the mess once she has you balancing against the bed.

The second she's turned away from you, you're clumsily dashing for the door.

It bursts open, and you immediately find the wall opposite the door to keep you steady as you venture down the hallway. Pressing your palm into the smooth wall over and over with each clumsy step, you do your best to support yourself as your stepmother calls from behind.

You know where you'll find your father. He never leaves his damn office. He's always either there, or away on some sort of business trip for his stupid coven.

Anger seeps through your body with every heavy breath, or maybe it's just the nausea.

That's where he was when your mother died. When you were attatcked. On a trip.

You freeze when you hear your fathers voice on the other side of the door. Your features twist in anger as you raise your good hand and aggressively pound your fist against the door, rattling it on its hinges with every rough slam.

The door flings open a moment later and there he is.

"What are you doing!?"

He gasps, shock evident in his voice when he sees you swaying on your feet, eyes flickering over your body as he takes in just how battered you are.

"Tell me what the fuck is going on!"

Your voice booms off the walls. It would've startled you if you were able to think coherently, but your mind still feels clouded and fuzzy. You've never sounded like this before, so much rage and fear seeping into every syllable that bursts past your lips.

Your chest heaves, and your face feels hot as you wait for him to reply, the only sound you hear is the pounding on your head.

"Is he back?"

This time, you sound weaker as your voice cracks and breaks into a soft sob, your features twisting with fear. You can tell he's barely suppressing a look of annoyance as he sighs, stepping out into the hallway.

"We don't know. I promise I would tell you if we knew for certain."

His voice is soft as he speaks, folding his hands in front of him. He regards you with soft eyes, ones you rarely get to see. In this moment, you're seeing a version of your father you wish you knew. You let out a shaky breath.

"Okay, so, what was last night about, then? Wanna dump more trauma onto my plate? Give me more reasons why I can't sleep at night?"

You feel one of your knees trembling beneath you as your body struggles to hold your weight, voice soft and shaky with the effort to hold back your impending sobs. He sets his lips into a firm line, and you hear your stepmother rushing down the hall to join you.

You close your eyes for a moment, breathing deeply as you do your best to steady yourself. You need to be coherent to discuss this. So you clench your shaking fists, and breathe.

"What does this have to do with what happened last night?"

Your voice is more firm and steady. Your stepmother and father cast their gazes to each other at your words.

"Just tell her."

Your stepmother demands, glaring at your father. He let's out a deep sigh.

"Well.. I can't personally keep you safe. The Elder Coven and I are going to figure out what to do about this man. So.. You need someone powerful who can dedicate around the clock service to protecting you."

It feels as if he's racing to get the words out, no emotion behind his monotonous tone. Your features scrunch up in confusion, not understanding anything but catching on to what he's trying to say.

"Okay.. You make that sound like it's Agatha Harkness but it's obviously not. She's a power hungry maniac too, you know.. That's kinda her whole thing. That's why she attacked me last night."

You scoff the words out, deadpan. Silence weighs heavy around the house, only being cut through by the ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hallway until your father speaks up, voice soft.

"Not if we force her into a pact bound by magic."

He looks just a bit too smug and proud of himself, while for you it feels like your entire world is being flipped on its head. You gape at the man, unbelieving of what you just heard.

"No. No way... Are you fucking kidding me!?"

You should have known better. Being away for so long has distanced you from just how manipulative this man really is. Of course he would do something like this "to protect you", but you can see through all of his layers of bullshit. You don't trust him or Agatha for a second.

"You can come out, Agatha."

You freeze at his words. There's some shuffling, then there she is, pulling the door to your fathers office open as she goes to lean against the doorframe. She's wearing normal clothes now, a purple sweater and her hair tied up in a bun that's plopped on top of her head. She raises her hand and gives you a small wave by wiggling a few of her fingers.

"Hiya hun."

That's when you go absolutely fucking ballistic.

"Oh fuck no!"

You shout, shaking your head. Immediately, your father and stepmother start rushing out words to try and calm you down, but you're having none of it.

"You seriously expect me to be able to trust her with my life!? The woman who just gave me a concussion and sprained my shoulder?!"

Your voice strains as you yell, gesturing towards the brown haired woman. Her eyes widen and she makes an awkward face, blue eyes shifting around the hallway as she avoids your gaze.

"What were you going to do if she tried to kill me? What if she got away with the necklace that keeps me alive! Hm!?"

You hook your thumb against the chain around your neck, pulling the pendant upwards to draw attention towards it.

"That wasn't going to happen. I was monitoring the situation very closely, we just needed to wait long enough to ensure that she was trapped and fully distracted-"

Groaning loudly in frustration, a wave of nausea washes over you as you begin to sway on your feet. You open your mouth to keep ranting and raving, unaware of just how lightheaded you're getting as you blink rapidly. Your father steps towards you, reaching out a nervous hand.

"You know what? Never mind. This is bullshit. There's no use arguing with a narcissistic prick like you."

You point to your father aggressively, stumbling over your own two feet and your stepmother gasps, rushing to your side. The carpet is scratchy against your skin, the dull, white walls blurring and smudging together with the little bit of color surrounding you.

"You need to go lay down-"

"Don't pretend like you care about me now! After leaving me alone when mom died, after putting my life in danger, stop pretending like you care about me other than what I offer you as the firstborn of this stupid fucking family!"

You shout, the words tearing through your throat and spit flying wildly as you gesture your good hand around to accent your words. You're out of breath, heaving deeply as you desperately try to look more composed than you actually are. You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment as your father and Agatha's features start to blur with the walls.

"I feel like I shouldn't be hearing any of this-"

Agatha speaks awkwardly, but you're quick to cut her off.

"Shut up!"

Your voice is unrecognizable, anger twisting the words as they tear out of your throat. You point an angry finger at her to accent your shout, and she quirks a shocked eyebrow curiously at your harsh tone, pressing her lips together and raising her hands to signal her surrender. Your stepmother goes to guide you away from them, muttering soft reassurances to try and calm you down. You're stumbling on your feet as she guides you back down the hall.

Turning your head to peek over your shoulder, you spit one last vitriolic line at your father.

"If I end up dead, it's all your fault."

Your nightmares are coming back to life, and your biggest fears are being turned into a reality. That shadowed man really has been watching you all this time. And he's coming back to finish what he started all those years ago.

And all you can do is watch and wait helplessly.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #agatha harkness/reader #agatha all along #agatha harkness reader insert #kathryn hahn #harksness #wlw fanfiction

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whimsicalcotton · 3 days

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I'm gonna be honest I just love the way you write amberpricefield so much. I've never even played the game. I love them so much. If you're still taking requests please pick your favorite.

skdfjsdhk thank you anon 🥺🥺🥺

thank u also for the free reign! here is some incredibly stupid Everybody's (Actually) Fine AU nonsense for u <3

--- --- ---

50: Nicknames/Pet Names

There’s a list of things other than “Max,” that Rachel and Chloe call her that probably runs a mile long.

Chloe likes to stretch her name into a wide variety of different shapes — some more ridiculous than others — and though there apparently exists some method to her madness no one else seems to know quite what it is. Mad Max, Maximilian, Maximum Turbo-Force Dork. Max could fill up a whole notebook with just those, let alone the pet-names. Chloe was once solely an ironic user of the word babe, so Max has been told, but she’s long since fallen into the trap of habit and now throws it around far more casually than Max can handle.

Rachel has also grown fond of playing around with Max’s name, but she leans more towards the terms of endearment. Max has lost count of the amount of times she’s gone all red in the face after being called honey or love or darling. There was even that one time Rachel had the audacity to call her babygirl in the middle of the dorm hallways, which made her fluster so hard she’d immediately started babbling some lame excuse about the time before literally running all the way back to her room.

All this is to say: Max has been thinking it’s time for some payback.

So with devious plots in mind from the moment she gets up — perhaps Rachel is starting to rub off on her a bit — Max makes it her day's mission to give the two of them a taste of their own medicine.

She catches Rachel first. Lingering in the dorm halls, fittingly enough, knee deep in yet another unnecessarily tense looking party planning conversation with Victoria. Of course, Victoria is often the only one who suffers in a conversation with Rachel, so when she turns to see Max approaching her expression shifts easily into one of earnest excitement.

“Morning, Max,” she greets, apparently feeling generous in her sparing Max from having to get flustered in front of Victoria. Her mistake.

Max takes a final little breath for courage, and goes for the metaphorical kill. “Good morning, sweetheart. Am I seeing you for lunch today?”

She tries not to smile so hard watching Rachel’s cheeks turn red.

“Y-Yeah,” Rachel answers, looking momentarily horrified by her stammering before straightening up. “Yeah, sure, lunch. I’m there. See you then.”

As Max is taking her leave, hardly capable of stopping herself from skipping the whole way, she overhears their chatter resume.

“Bitch, didn’t you literally just tell me we were gonna go over this shit again at lunch?” Victoria snaps, incredulous. “Oh my god, you’re down bad. That was pathetic. Well played, Amber, truly.”

“Shut the hell up, Chase,” Rachel hisses back. “Tell anyone what just happened and you’ll be on your own supplying party booze for the rest of the year.”

Max gets Chloe later on, during the aforementioned lunch hangout that Rachel is apparently snubbing Victoria to be present for.

She’s in the midst of chowing down on some of the sweets Max brought along, getting bread crumbs and icing sugar all over herself in the process. By the time she’s done, there are patches of powdery white and a hint of jelly still adorning her face. Rachel tries to hide a bout of snorting giggles upon looking at her.

“Jesus, you’d think we never feed you,” she says, still covering her mouth with one hand and handing Chloe a napkin with the other.

“Yeah,” Max agrees, taking the napkin in Chloe’s stead and reaching up to wipe off her face. “You’re making such a mess of yourself, baby.”

Chloe’s eyes go wide as saucers as she squeaks out an astoundingly unsure, “I sure am.” She lets Max finish cleaning her off before seemingly coming to her senses and going even redder than Rachel had earlier.

Speaking of, Rachel’s gone a little pink again herself. She looks over at Max with a gaze as hungry as it is curious. “Man, you’re out for blood today, aren’t you?”

“Just having a bit of fun,” Max assures with a smile, watching on in unabashed satisfaction as Chloe devolves into a grumbling, mumbling mess hiding her face in her hands.

#behold. my silly nickname headcanons sjfksjhfksj #thank u again i had a lot of fun w this. i'm also love them really much your honor #nova answers #nova writes

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kyoukris · 5 months

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by the nine... have u seen her. ?

#biscuit #my kitty #shes reaching out for u... will u take her hand

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irlnikeiyomiuri · 1 year

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i had ONE decent interaction with another person and now i want to ask my friends to come hang out. however, i literally never left my house once covid started, and the few friends/acquaintances i chatted with, as soon as i saw them on person, i very strongly disliked them.

i have one friend.

#puts my head in hands………#also i think she may hate me. so. :(.- I SAY THIS NOT TO VENT. I DO NOT FEEL ANYTHING !!!!!!#i just think u all need to sympathize with how difficult it is to go find fwends #-oh my god im already facing the adult issue of unable to make friends bc of lack of interaction with others #i. the body is still not close to 18. ….. …………#gently whacks andrew. damn bitch who did u let take care of this thing why ur life in shambles?? (totally not my fault)#edit. anyways should i reach out to my friend and try to get her to hang out uhhhh… some time later this week ?#or do i try and contact the person i was around the other day. i’ve known her since like 4th grade but idk if i should call her a friend #we had a fine interaction but it was literally like… four hours after my lesson and before her date. and she just wanted to hear about my #trip. which did in fact take four hours to discuss #so it’s like hmmm do i want to be around her for longer in a unstructured setting-#HER STUPID BF IS SO RICH AND ITS SO INFURIATING TO HEAR ABOUT #THEYRE SO WASTEFUL WITH THEIR MONEY ITS INSANE !!!!!!!!#it makes me so like. ticked off. tf do u mean they last-minute booked u a flight across the country so u could come w them #to the fucking PENINSULA UR BFS GRANDMA O W N S. WHAT ???????#i’m trying to be vague. but this peninsula is in a /nice/ fucking area like if i were to say it y’all would immediately know what i’m #talking about. like uhh. cape cod martha’s vineyard that type of infamy. owns a whole ass peninsula………..#i HATE IT i HATE RICH PEOPLE !!!

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trollbreak · 1 year

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Girl help I’m tormented and thinking abt the snake themed bitches destroying each other and exalting each other and cycling in an endless spiral into power and desolation and

#specifically. when they soft #um. do u know. sometimes wyn used to braid Ichour’s hair. lil mini braids to tie back and keep it out of her face. did u know that bc now u #do. and um. Ichour bringing this feeling of still and stuffy air with her. she can’t escape it. its become a strange comfort for wyn over #the years they’ve been haunted. thinks about what weapon they had to have been fighting over to take off an arm and a head relatively clean #axe violence my beloved. thinks abt Ichour with a war axe. or perhaps a more fantasy battle axe.#thinks abt her making herself visible to wynric and for a brief moment. she looks as she did- albeit a bit pale. blood loss does that to a #person. but her injuries draw themselves across her skin and she opens clouded eyes and pitch blood pours from her like a fountain.#she shows too many teeth when she smiles and the first time she appeared before them Wynric took a step forward in spite of everything- they #reached for her hand in vain. it was nothing personal she had said. the paycheck would have been worth it. they imagine it must have been.#lays on the floor they’re a fucking ouroboros #double ouroboros

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tonycries · 2 months

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R U Mine?

Synopsis. Does he really count as an éx if he’s fúcking you this good?

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, éxes, mating press, they’re REALLY down bad, jealousy (Nanami’s, Sukuna’s), bréeding, marathon séx, recording (Sukuna’s), creampíe, cúmplay, pússytalking, possessíve boys, oraI (fem receiving), thígh ríding, fíngering, proposals, HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.2k

A/N. I love men groveling hehe. Hope y’all have a great week!

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 1 week

Oh, it’s around the fourth orgasm when Toji can’t think - can’t even breathe.

Can’t do anything but spit out little profanities into your swollen lips while he rams his messy cock deeper into your sloppy entrance. Body moving before his mind to savor the sweet sweet cunt that’s been plaguing his mind all week.

Again. And again. And again and again and-

“A week.” you hear that familiar mantra from behind you, whirling your teary eyes to stare over your shoulder at your utterly wrecked ex-husband. Gaze glassy, cheeks flushed, lips sagging open as he pants, “A whole week, n’ you’re sure she didn’t m-miss me, doll? Didn’t crave me fillin’ her up?”

And Toji takes your pitiful little whine as enough of an answer, reaching down below to thumb apart your folds greedily - all puffy and sensitive where he swipes at the seed trickling down your poor, overfilled slit. “Or do I just hafta prove it to ya?”

So mean with the way he’s shoving each and every thick spurt of his cum back inside your gummy walls. Sloppier. Languid, as the exhaustion sets in - and honestly, Toji doesn’t even know if he can cum again despite the long, calculated strokes into your snug cunt.

But he has to, even if it fucking kills him.

Moaning messily, your knees weaken at his renewed vigor, “T-Toji I-” Laying your body limply over the lewd little pool of cum below you, you claw at the damp sheets. “D-didn’t-”

But he doesn’t hear - doesn’t even care when he brings up his shaky fingers - glossy, and covered in the mess of your juices and his cum - up to your swollen lips.

“Ah ah-” he tuts, pushing the pads of his thick fingers between them amusedly. Dick swelling up further inside you at the way that smart mouth of yours sucks on the salty taste like such a slut. “These mm- sheets were expensive since ya ngh- threw out all mine, y’know. C’mere, come to your husband.”

And in a split second, two, strong hands are pulling you back up by your forearms. Arching your body back like such a slut, bending you in half against Toji’s sculpted front. And fuck this new angle makes you keen.

He’s pressing a chaste kiss into your quivering shoulders, “Or- we could just mm fuck- share the same ones again?”

That only makes your hips fuck back against his, messily trying to meet his ruthless tempo - one that has you depending on Toji holding you up like some ragdoll. One that has him pistoning his hips faster, more purposeful, so infuriatingly familiar with the way he glides his aching tip along your ravaged g-spot.

“Y-you’re too much-” you meet his amused, half-lidded gaze. Letting him lick and kiss at the big fat tears rolling down your cheeks, grazing your lips against that tiny scar of his. “Should’ve ngh- never-”

“No.” a groan bursts from his lips. Fingers tightening - sure leave marks around your arms, using the gravity to bounce your body deeper into his cock. “No no no no- was a- fuuuck stop squeezin’ me s’tight- was a joke, doll. Already waited a week, don’t go takin’ this ah- pussy away from me again.”

For all his cockiness, Toji sounded worried - so genuinely concerned as he drags his sensitive length along your plushy walls. Tears pricking behind his eyes with each painful squeeze of his twitching balls, smacking your skin with each rough, depraved thrust inside

Scoffing, “Wh-what if I mmpf- do?”

And he’s slamming his hips into you so mean that you could almost feel the overabundance of cum sloshing inside you, claiming you from the inside out. Hips sloppy in a way that told he’s lost whatever sanity he had left.

“Said m’sorry, right? C’mooon-” Dancing an open palm up to press down on your lower stomach, hard. Letting Toji’s cum ooze down his length, pooling at his heavy balls. “She missed me too- look how much she’s ngh- takin’. How much more she wants.”

Toji’s free hand comes up to squish your cheeks together in an embarrassing pout, forcing your head down just enough to look at the heavenly sight below. And what you’re met with has you mewling out his name embarrassingly louder.

Your poor pussy stuffed to the brim, just bulging with the struggle to take your ex-husband.

But still trying so needily to milk him as much as possible, clenching and quivering every time his fat head kisses all your sensitive spots.

And despite all that, you still stupidly lie, “Didn’t- didn’t miss you.”

It’s like he expected that - was waiting for it even, as an excuse to go harder.

“Well then…” a slow, dangerous smirk spreads across Toji’s features - one that definitely didn’t bode well for you. He presses a hot peck against your wobbly lips, cock twitching knowingly against your g-spot. “Guess I’ve gotta f-fill her up again to prove it.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - 3 weeks

“Look at me.” you hear from above you, two long fingers gently tilting your head up to meet Nanami’s hardened gaze. “Look at who’s fucking you, my love.”

You squirm, thighs trying to clamp around where he was positioned between them. “K-Ken–”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Nanami hushes you gently - the exact opposite of those languid, heavy grinds of his aching cock into your already-stuffed cunt. Shoving you further and further up those silky sheets of his with each smack of his hips, “S’me. I hah- I got you, darling. Finally, I got you.”

It’s been a whole three weeks without your pretty touch, without those sweet sweet moans spilling from your lips. Without you - sprawled out all prettily like this on Nanami’s king-sized bed, being fucked into the mattress by him like you deserve.

And he’ll be sure to make up for those three weeks.

Nanami pushes away the bouquet of roses he’d gotten you earlier today, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders to bend you into such a mean mating press.

He’s murmuring against the underside of your jaw, “I missed you, my love. Missed my cute cunt.” Rolling his hips deeper into yours, fat head kissing at your poor g-spot with each little movement. Nosing down the sweet spots on your pulse, “Missed those sweet noises for me. Missed-” Biting down on the crook of your neck, hard. Enough to break skin if Nanami really wanted to. “-this. This one’s for that douche at the club.”

You’re gasping at those neat little indents on your skin, fingers twitching upwards to feel the deep, purposeful mark. Never has Nanami acted this feral. Never has he left embarrassing marks to admire for later.

“Ken- what-” you whine - but you don’t get very far with that dazed little sentence.

No, because Nanami’s dragging his lips so searingly across the print, hips stuttering forwards while he kisses away the dredges of pain. Only to turn his head to the other side of your neck and give you a sinful, matching mark on the other side.

Murmuring into your skin, “That one’s for the hah- cashier that looked at you wrong. N’ this one’s-” Pretty lips sucking a tiny mark right above, “-for the security guard that was too nice to ya.”

Fuck.

No sooner are you actually realizing what is happening, Nanami’s pulling out with a pained grunt - like it killed him to be apart. Even if it was just for all of the two seconds it took for him to flip you onto your stomach like some ragdoll, strong arms supporting your weight.

And if you were in any better state of mind you’d have questions. Literally anything but those fucked-out little moans he was dragging out of you, rock-hard cock molding your walls to him with each mean, possessive stroke.

“This one-” Nanami kisses up your curved spine, biceps bulging as he wraps them around your middle. Biting down on the small of your back, “-s’for Higurama a-asking for your ngh- number.” Onto your shoulder, tough. Meaner than the rest, in fact, “N’ this one’s for Gojo.”

Fuck, and he won’t stop - can’t. Leaving you utterly wrecked like you’d been thrown to the wolves. But no, it’s just Nanami Kento.

“Nghh- Ken.” you blabber when he doesn’t ease up on colliding his thick tip against your g-spot. And as if that wasn’t enough, he’s snaking down a hand to draw tight, urgent little circles on your clit. “But m’yours! N-no need to be so…”

A low chuckle sounds in your ear, “What, my love?” And Nanami pistons his hips even harder, bouncing you onto the fresh mattress. “Mean? Jealous? Possessive?”

Each little description is rattled off with a harsh pattern on your clit, sending white-hot pleasure down your poor, marked-up body - all the way down to your stuffed pussy. Bulging and stuttering with each harsh thrust.

You turn your head around to meet an uncharacteristically disheveled Nanami, familiar blue button-up pulled open, stray strands of blond sticking to his forehead, that furrow in his brow softening at the sight of your fucked-out expression.

Through those hard, taxing rams of his hips against yours, Nanami manages to whisper out a ragged, “You’re jus’ too perfect, my girl. Too irresistible.” Hot tongue licking all over those bruises he so proudly made, “Can’t help but ngh- wan’ you for myself. Want to write my name on you.”

“W-write your- hngh- Didn’t think you’d be so-” You’re cut off by Nanami’s fingers moving sloppier - faster. Those messy little circles forming- oh. Fuck.

Your eyes widen, blinking up tearily at Nanami’s loving grin that told you he knew what he was doing. Fingers deftly rolling against your sensitive nub to draw out a persistent little K-E-N-T-O-K-E-N-T-O-K-E-N-T-O-K-E-N-T

“This one…” He trails off, pulling your back flush against the ridges and curves of his toned front. So tight it almost hurt. Making it easy to dip his head down and suck on your syrupy addictive lips, “This one’s all f’me.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 1 month

It’d been a nice, long month without any noise complaints from your neighbors. A month of being left with nothing but the thought of you and whatever disappointing rebound sex you’d been having to make up for it.

And to Geto Suguru, that was a month too long.

Which is why he was currently snaking your shaky legs to lock around his neck, hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties as he hums. “Oh how I missed this view.”

You let out an embarrassed whine, cheeks burning at the way that Geto’s hooded eyes were just devouring the sight of your dripping wet cunt. Greedily pulling aside the flimsy fabric to eye the way your pretty pussy was glistening and winking up needily at him.

“Did anyone else treat you like ya deserve?”

“Wha- oh!”

Geto doesn’t waste any time, flattening his hot tongue to drag it along your sloppy slit - too impatient, too starved to go without a taste any longer. Hell, he already waited a month for this. And he wasn’t going to wait any longer. “Mmm-” Dewy eyes rolling to the back of his head, “Even sweeter than I remembered, gorgeous.”

Diving in so deep between your legs that his nose was pressing up so sinfully against your throbbing clit, chin grinding against your skin. Like he couldn’t care - would love it - in fact if he could suffocate buried right here in his favorite place.

“Mmm,” he smacks his lips against your puffy ones, teasingly circling right around the sweet spot of your clit. “Bet the neighbors missed me, huh? Missed the way I had you screamin’ on my mouth?”

You click your tongue, bucking your hips up - partially because you needed Geto to make out with your cunt the way you knew he wanted to, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. “M-maybe.” you mutter.

Geto’s eyes are widening in mock-surprise, “Maybe?” Hooking a finger underneath that familiar little hair tie on his wrist to easily tie back those long, inky locks. Oh. Fuck. You were so fucked. “‘Maybe’ she says, hah. Well, here’s a little reminder, gorgeous.”

And it’s all you can do to bring a hand up to your mouth, trying not to scream when Geto presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss on your needy pussy. Pretty pink lips wrapping around your sensitive nub to suck - harsh. Peering smugly at you through his long lashes when you thrash and buck closer.

“Yeah?” Geto slurs into your cunt, one hand pushing down your reckless hips. The other rolling your ravaged clit between two fingers. “Remembered?”

It was true - none of your past hookups have ever been this dizzyingly good.

Your mouth sags open, letting out a broken whine that makes Geto throw his head back and laugh - laugh. Long tongue darting out again, circling your sloppy entrance, pressing in. “Not yet, I think.”

And oh while you were desperately trying to keep quiet, he was trying his very best to do the exact opposite.

Tongue bullying past your puffy lips to map out all those sweet spots against your gummy walls, brows furrowing in concentration when he picks up an intense, maddeningly little tempo.

And yet, the only thing ringing in Geto’s ears were those fucking obscene squelches from below. Well, that won’t do.

“Oh!” you yelp at the feeling of two long fingers pumping past that first ring of muscle. “Ngh- fuck you- Sugu!”

Hitting the bullseye of your g-spot straight on. Making you let out a slutty little ah! ah! ah! as his finger pads drag against every sopping nook and cranny of your plushy walls. “Lemme know how good it feels, gorgeous.”

Unapologetic. Unrelenting, as Geto plays with you on his fingers. On his mouth lapping at your syrupy sweet juices, rolling his tongue so mean against your ravaged clit. Your sloppy entrance. Fuck, even those sensitive areas on your thighs. Anywhere and everywhere that Geto Suguru could reach because shit, it’s been too long. And he’s drunk, so fucking drunk on his girl’s pussy.

Your eyes snap open, and shit the sight is so pretty that it makes you clamp down sinfully on his fingers. Hair falling out of his sloppy bun, framing Geto’s pretty flushed face. As pink as those lips meshing messily with yours. Eyes dazed, miles away, your slick dripping down his face, down, down, down all the way to the curve of his jaw.

You manage to let out a disbelieving mutter of, “Y-your girl?” And when that doesn’t rouse Geto, you tug familiarly on his disheveled hair. Having to fucking pull him back to repeat, “Your girl?”

Fuck, did he say that out loud?

Oh, well - he wasn’t entirely wrong, was he?

And he tells you that - involuntarily, of course, high off your sweet taste and your cute moans. Loud. Movements only speeding up.

“S’true.” You feel his lips form a fucked-out smile against your pussy, “This pretty pussy is mine, right? S’mine to ruin.” Giving your poor, abused clit a lingering, chaste peck - one that if you didn’t know any better, you’d consider to be apologetic. “Mine to make you scream.”

So it only makes sense that you do when you cum.

“Hngh- oh my god oh my god, Sugu I’m- m’cumming m’cumming hah-” Your thighs tighten around Geto’s frenzied head, vision blurry while he laps away content at your pussy. Difficult, almost, with the way you were clenching and milking his face. Until your voice was hoarse, “I’m- oh”

Your hips drag along his pretty face, and he eases you into it. “Yeahh, that’s it.” Giving your ass a gentle smack, “Jus’ like that. Let ‘em know. Let everyone know there’s no one that knows this pussy as good as me.”

“Y-you’re so- ngh”

“Shhh shhh, I know I know, gorgeous. But save your voice-” Geto rock-hard cock twitches needily at the thought of how fucking pissed everyone in this apartment building was about to be. “-cuz you’re about to lose it, soon.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 4 days

Choso feels hot - he feels like he’s burning from the inside out when you slide your slutty excuse of your panties to the side. Spreading your legs to flash him a glimpse of your dripping wet cunt, “So do it then, if you’re so sorry.”

And oh was Choso sorry.

Sorry he couldn’t move faster with the way he was immediately sidling up right next to you, shaky fingers trembling on that belt of his until his red, angry cock springs free. Smearing a lewd streak of precum down his abs.

Sorry he couldn’t even pretend to want this any less when he’s immediately sliding his fat, leaky tip between your pretty folds. Sliding up and down up and down up and-

“Oh.” you jaw falls slack when he presses in, stretching that first, feeble ring of resistance around Choso’s thick tip. Hips stuttering in protest, “Fuck- forgot how- ngh, big you are, Cho.”

“S-sorry-” he gasps into your open mouth, moving in shallow, slow grinds to squeeze inside. Catching your lips with his in a messy kiss, “Sorry m’sorry- m- hah-” And whatever coherent thoughts are fucked out of Choso’s mind when he finally sinks in all the way, “Ohhh m’sorry.”

Sorry it took him a whole four days until he was buried to the hilt inside your syrupy sweet pussy again.

He squeezes the fat of your ass between two hands, pulling your tight pussy impossibly deeper down his length. All the way until you could feel the thump! thump! thump! of his racing veins again your gummy walls. “M’yours again, right?”

And despite his question, Choso doesn’t even think about giving you the time to answer - immediately shoving his swollen cock inside until he could feel the plush of your cervix. Fucking you into your couch so ruthlessly, so depraved.

Making up for those four days - twofold.

“Ngh- f-fuck, Cho, where did ngh- where did this all come from?” you whine, biting down on his wobbly lower lip. “What’s got you so-”

One arm wraps around your middle, the other snaking down to cut you off with one, hard roll of his thumb against your throbbing clit. “You.” Is all he manages to get out, before looping that same thumb around your flimsy panties. Once - hard.

Rip!

Looking right into your bleary eyes as he shreds them clean off your waist.

And you can only watch - lips dropping into a soft oh! of disbelief as Choso brings the sodden, tattered fabric up, up, up to his face. Breathing in your essence, “F-fuuck, n’ this pretty pussy, of course.”

Immediately, he’s smashing into your sensitive spot. Sloppy. Animalistically.

So depraved - not even pulling all the way out until his weeping tip is circling your entrance like usual. Instead, fucking into you in just quick, jagged thrusts like he was addicted to the feeling of your cunt, addicted to each pretty moan pulled out from you when he brushes up against your g-spot.

“S’too good, Cho.” you mewl at the way you’re being shoved higher and higher up your couch with your ex-boyfriend’s rough cadence. “S’too- oh-” Scrambling at the cushions, the coffee-table, anything and everything to keep whatever’s left of your sanity.

So much so that you almost miss the gentle hand placing your trembling ones over Choso’s broad shoulders, whispering out a strained, “M’sorry. Fuck- m’sorry.”

You didn’t even know what he was apologizing for at this point, but you circle your hands around his neck to pull him closer. Letting Choso place his teary eyes on your mouth, tentatively sucking on your bottom lip, “M’yours, right?” Abusing your poor sweet spots, fingers taking their place back to toy with your pulsing clit. Rolling and circling the sensitive nub against his thick fingers, “Lemme be yours, baby- can’t ngh- can’t live without your sweet pussy. Without you.”

“Y-yeah?” you let out a wet murmur.

And Choso’s giving you a barely-lucid nod, each drag of his cock along your gummy walls makes him grow louder. Pulling you along with him, closer and closer.

“Mhm, wanna be yours-” Utterly wrecked little strangled gasps of your name escaping him, “M’gonna die- ya feel too good. Too- hah- mine. Oh, baby m’sorry I’m-”

It’s all it takes for him to send you over the end, with one harsh collision of his thick head against your g-spot. And suddenly you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, feeling Choso’s cock twitch wildly as he fucks you through your high.

Once. Twice.

With absolutely no rhythm or rhyme - just running on the fumes of you milking him so fucking tight and an orgasm so hard it has tears pricking behind his lids. Cumming in thick, hot ropes of his seed that coat your walls white - again and again and- Choso can’t stop. Doesn’t want to stop.

“M’sorry- ngh” Doesn’t want to do anything other than push your legs so far apart it burned, eyeing the creamy ring of white around his base as he whispers, “I’ve still got four days to make up for.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 13 days

“Ya think he’s really gonna like this, brat?” Sukuna breathes hotly against your ear above the thumping bass. Sharp canines grazing along the outer shell, “Think hell like how pretty you look whining on my lap like this?”

You huff in frustration, eyes screwed up against the harsh flashlight shining down on your precarious position. Hands still urgently tugging down your ex-boyfriend tight boxers, skirt hiking up where you were sat so sluttily across his muscled thighs.

Honestly, you didn’t know that all it’d take for Sukuna to snap was a risky little dance with some cute guy at this party. Eyes hardening, all but dragging your smug self into the nearest unlocked bedroom.

But, hell, you weren’t complaining about it, either.

“Maybe.” you flash him a devilish grin, batting your lashes up so devilishly innocently at the phone camera pointed at you. Perfectly catching the way your bare cunt was just drooling and glistening all over him, “Or maybe he’ll just wonder why your dick’s so sm-”

Whatever insult dies on the tip of your tongue when Sukuna pulls down his boxers just enough for his swollen cock to hit his toned front.

Rock-hard and beading angry precum at his fat head, running down, down, down his long length to pool at his heavy balls. So unfairly big that it made your thighs quiver - fuck, it’s been too long.

And Sukuna notices - of course he does.

“What were ya sayin’, brat?” he hums, dick twitching ever-so-slightly at the flustered shake of your head. “No no no,” Sukuna raises his knee so that gravity slides you closer down his thigh, his free hand reaching out to squish your cheeks together. Possessive. Demanding. You gasp as he starts up a steady, methodical bobbing of his leg to the music outside. “-use your words. My dick’s so what?”

Sukuna knew the answer - and you did, too.

And it certainly wasn’t wrapping your swollen lips around that large thumb of his on your face, sucking softly as you rock your hips back to meet his cadence.

“Nothing, Kuna.” you smile, syrupy sweet. Letting your cunt form a lewd little wet patch that helps you slide easier. “Just talking about-” Sukuna’s breath hitches in his broad chest when you wrap your soft palm around the base of his cock, squeezing. “-how much I missed your dick.”

The camera shakes in his hand, “You little minx.”

Maybe you were an idiot - maybe you were a genius.

Because no sooner are the words out of his mouth before Sukuna’s bucking into your hips, dragging your sloppy cunt along the dips and curves of his thigh muscles. Having him fuck your fist at the same frenzied tempo.

Muffled around his fingers, “Kuna-”

“Shut up.” he hisses, resting your pretty pussy on that tattooed band on his leg. “Couldn’t even last two weeks. If you hah- missed my dick so bad then y’can get off on this, too, hm?”

And shit you forgot how mean Sukuna was with his little movements.

Bouncing his legs to grind your dripping cunt along his thigh, making you ride it so hard that your throbbing clit is catching on his muscles. All the way from near his knee down the sinful trail to where you could almost meet his aching cock.

He pushes the phone closer to catch the way your eyes roll to the back of your head, lips sagging open stupidly. “Answer me. Answer the camera, tell him how much you missed me.”

The blurry camera alternates between the way you’re pumping your hand - all shaky and soaked in precum - up and down his cock. And the way Sukuna’s dipping a large hand down to help spread your swollen pussy lips, toying with your sensitive nub in the process.

“Ngh-” you squeal when he places that same hand back on your hips, taking control to bully your hips harder and harder down his thigh. Flashlight illuminating that obscene trail of sweet sweet juices you’ve left behind. “M-missed this-”

Sloppier. More desperate.

And, usually, he’d tease you a little for being so pliant, for humping him like a bitch in heat - but fuck Sukuna can’t even speak when your thumb teases nimbly underneath his sensitive tip - just the way he liked.

“O-oh-” he’s letting out a guttural groan, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the familiar touch. “Heh, that needy? You ngh- wanted this that much ya had to dance with a loser to fuuuck- make me jealous?”

And yet for all Sukuna’s talk, he’s only fucking his hips up into your fist. Recording the way he was furiously twitching in your hands, so needy. So depraved.

Fingers jolting to leave little crescent marks on your hips as they tighten. Words strained, “Wan’ed to ride my thigh like before? To leave your lil’ mark on me? After all, I did get this thigh tattoo in honor of you, y’know.”

It’s all you can do to sob out, hips stuttering messily. “K-Kuna- m’close- ah-” Messily dragging your lips across his, “Gonna cum mmpf- gonna cum gonna-”

But oh you should’ve known. Should’ve gotten an inkling that your dear ex-boyfriend wouldn’t let you off that easy.

Because in a split-second, you’re being plucked off Sukuna’s thigh so easily, the camera set up in some corner of the bed to capture the way he sandwiches his swollen cock between your puffy folds. Kneading at your ass to slobber your syrupy juices all over him.

Mouth quirking up into a cruel little smile at your disappointed little whine, “You really think m’getting ya for the first time in almost two weeks n’ letting you cum on anything but my cock?” And an even crueler laugh, “Better get workin’ before I send this video to that new boytoy of yours, brat.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - 6 hours

“New shoes, new purses, new nails-” Gojo has his face buried into the crook of your neck, swollen lips bursting with new, broken little moans each passing second, “-a new car- fuck- five new cars. I don’t care, sweetheart. Jus’- jus’ a bit more-”

“Six hours…”

“Six hours too fuckin’ long, thought m’gonna die without this sweet sweet cunt.”

And oh then two large hands of his are shoving up that silky new dress he’d bought for you just a few hours before. Spreading your shaky legs further apart to piston his cock faster - deeper - into your heavenly cunt.

“Hngh- T-Toru–” you whine, your new heels digging into the skin of Gojo’s toned hips. Jeweled bracelets clanging together as you drag your nails down his milky back - absolutely ruining the smooth canvas. “You’re just b-bribing me.”

“So?” Gojo sounds genuinely confused, raising his pussydrunk eyes to focus on yours, “What’s wrong with ohh fuck jus’ like that- spoiling my girl?”

You give him an eye roll - which only makes your ex-boyfriend let out a stuttering gasp. Head dropping back as his cock twitches wildly, massaging those hidden sweet spots along your gummy walls in a way that only he can.

“The- the problem is- ngh m’not your girl.”

For the entirety of six hours, that is. And the great Gojo Satoru wasn’t about to let that last for a minute longer.

“Fuuuck don’t say that, sweetheart.” Gojo groans, two fingers making their way downwards to toy with your poor clit, twirling and brushing the pads of his fingers against the sensitive nub. “You’re my girl, always my girl, right? Or do I h-hafta ngh- buy ya another house to prove it?”

You’re gasping at the sight of Gojo reaching for wherever his phone had been thrown off, well and fully intent on calling Tokyo’s best contractor right now. “No!” Pinning his hand down with yours, “Don’t- don’t need another house, Toru.”

Gojo’s pretty pink lips fall into a stubborn pout, and yet his hips never stop. Fucking you into the mattress of this overpriced hotel suite so hard you were sure it would leave marks.

His heavy balls on your ass, thighs against your own, fingers on your waist - just itching, aching to rip this flimsy dress off of you and fuck you all over again in a whole new one from the stacks of bags on the floor.

“Then what.” he moans, words hitching upwards with each sloppy smack of his hips against yours. Shuddering out a heavy breath against your lips, “Anything- haaah anything for you. Anything n’ I jus’ want you- fuck fuck fuck jus’ want you.”

It’s a ragged, dizzying little mantra that he kept spitting into your open mouth. Only growing louder and louder with each drag of Gojo’s massive length against your dripping cunt. Stretching you out, molding you, drawing you back to him.

You choke out, “Wan’- want- ngh-”

But fuck it was so difficult to speak with how needily Gojo was playing with your pretty pussy. Just ravaging your gaping hole with his unforgiving cock, molding you against each ride and curve of his dick. Fingers so firm on your clit, “Mhm? Tell me- ngh anything.”

“Wan’ you-” you’re letting out an embarrassed pant. Lips crashing against his stunned ones, “Wanna cum- want you- fuck- wanna cum, Toru, so bad.”

“Then cum.” It’s all you can make out through the blood roaring in your ears, your orgasm so close that it almost hurt. Or maybe that’s just how hard that Gojo was pushing into your cervix, your g-spot, everywhere and anywhere. “Cum f’me, my girl.”

And then you are - your entire body jolting into Gojo’s as he fucks you messily through your high. Over and over and-

Barely even making it three, mean thrusts before the way your tight pussy was milking him gets too much. Before he can’t help but spill all into your gummy walls, painting then a creamy little white that was so sinful. So his.

Gojo’s free hand crushes you even closer to his body, pinning you down with his weight to make sure you take every single drop of his seed. All of it.

“Ohh fuck- you’re right.” he grits out, the pleasure too much that his eyes are blown, jaw falling slack, veins popping out from the side of his neck. “Ngh- this is the best- fuck, you’re the best. The- oh m’gonna give ya everything for the rest of m’life-”

And in the haze of it all, you barely even register the cold, metallic band being slipped gently onto your finger. And despite your blurry, unfocused vision, you could pick apart the ridiculously large diamond winking at you under the dim-lighting. Gojo’s voice sounding way too-pleased as he hums, “Jus’ a lil’ something I bought extra.”

A/N. Reader in Gojo’s is too nice idc I’d be asking for that new house.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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panda-001 · 11 months

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#today i met the sweetest and friendliest kitty !!!! she was sooo cute and super eager for pets 🩷#she even stood on her back paws just to reach my hand with her head !!!#i really wanted to kidnap her hfjdjsj but im a broke college student #i couldn't afford another cat even though i really wanted to take her home with meee #when i said goodbye to her she tried to follow me ;;;; she made it extra hard for me to leave her there ;u;#i hope she already has her humans to go back to and was just out for a stroll u_u #she is a long haired orange cat with gorgeous amber eyes 🩷 the 20 minutes i spent with her were enough to make me fall in love with her #this is my love letter to that beautiful kitty 🩷 but don't tell my cat. she's super jealous jfjfjdjsj

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osaemu · 10 months

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GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ FINDERS KEEPERS, LOSERS WEEPERS! ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: the user "gojoslittleslut" tries to make a move on your boyfriend, but she doesn't stand a chance

contents: fem!reader. it's not too serious, nobody gets angry/jealous (except the comments lol). if u haven't already read the other streamer!gojo works u probably should so u understand the dynamic between satoru and his commenters !

author's note: reader is actually a mature person who doesn't pick fights with random ppl on the internet and i think we should all be more like her ꨄ︎

satoru leans back in his chair, idly chatting with people who pop up in his comments after he finishes his last round of the co-op game. his viewers are eager to chat, and some even shoot money satoru's way to draw his attention. whenever someone donates money, he gives them a quick shoutout and has a small back-and-forth with them, and he does that for everyone.

that is, until a user with a questionable username donates to his stream.

gojoslittleslut has donated $100.00!

gojoslittleslut: notice me pls

"shit, a hundred dollars?" satoru says, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise. "thanks, gojoslittl— oh, fuck, what is that?"

you look up from your laptop and see the way your boyfriend's cheeks have gone bright red. satoru laughs a bit nervously, so you get up and walk over, making sure to stay out of sight of the camera. you sit on satoru's desk beside his computer and peer at his screen curiously.

gojoslittleslut: im ur number one fan~

satoru's eyes flicker to yours for a second before he looks back at his monitor. "ah, well, thanks for the donation!" he replies, completely ignoring the user's advances.

suguru-geto: he has a gf ...

gojoslittleslut: yeah

gojoslittleslut: me

you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle, scrunching up your nose at satoru to let him know that you really weren't taking it too seriously. after all, it's just some random person on the internet—they don't stand a chance with your boyfriend.

satoru reaches over and takes your hand, twining his fingers with yours off-camera. he ignores the sudden burst of comments that litter the corner of his screen, instead watching you intently. in response, you roll your eyes playfully and blow him a kiss, snickering when satoru pretends to faint.

eventually, he turns back to his screen, cerulean eyes doing a quick once-over of his new comments.

toji-fushiguro: ill take his gf any day

inumaki: we know gtfo

gojoslittleslut: toji i get gojo and u take his girl. deal?

toji-fushiguro: bet

"alright guys, settle down," satoru huffs, rolling his eyes. "for the record, i still have a girlfriend and i don't plan on changing that anytime soon," he clarifies, addressing the current feud going on in his comments.

satoru's a good streamer—he does his best to keep things cordial and lighthearted with his audience, but he also knows his limits. one of his limits involves people trying to separate you and him, his one true pairing (of course satoru's otp is his own relationship).

your boyfriend leans closer to the screen and scowls good-naturedly, holding up the hand still wrapped around yours. "this isn't gonna change, so don't even think about it!"

satoru says his goodbyes and then ends the stream, turning to you with a sigh. "how down bad do you have to be to name yourself 'gojo's little slut?'" he grumbles, clicking through his stream analytics and finding the user. he opens gojoslittleslut's profile and studies it for a moment before hovering his mouse over the block button.

he leans back in his chair and tilting his chin up at you. "she just gave me a hundred dollars, so i kinda feel bad about blocking her," satoru muses, tapping his foot on the floor. he looks up at where you still sit on his desk, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "c'mere," he mumbles, slipping his hands around your waist and hoisting you into his lap with a soft grunt.

satoru rests his chin on your shoulder and nudges his face into your neck, breath tickling your skin. "you know that i'm all yours, right?"

"of course i do," you murmur, settling into his arms. he's warm and comfortable, like always. satoru smiles warmly and kisses the side of your face, letting his lips linger.

"good. 'cause no fan account's ever gonna change that."

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muntitled · 1 year

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COULD U DO MATTHEO X F READER DURING HER OVULATION WEEK AND SHES SUPER NEEDY AND HORNY? (Pls I’m ovulating and craving ur fics so bad babe😭🙏🧎🏼‍♀️)

I love how feral this is lmfao -

𝐍𝐨 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐬 | 𝐌.𝐑.

Mattheo Riddle x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Dark Fic, Violence, Language, Mention of drugs and alcohol, Slight fluff, Public Affections, Possessiveness, Smut (+18), Dirty Talk, Touch starvation, Fingering, Humping, Grinding, Whining, Sub/Dom Undertones, Blood Kink, Fighting Kink?, Squirting, Major Degradation, Praise Kink, Breeding Kink, Slight Humiliation Kink

The night is deep, and the dungeon is dim as a few sunken eyes peer curiously at you while you make your way through the crowd. Seeing you emerge from within the walls of your private dorm room was a rare and curious sight for everyone involved. It was especially rare for you to embed yourself amongst your fellow pupils shenanigans, seeing yourself as above such baseless devilment.

You were not here for them.

You were scanning the crowd for him because an unfamiliar warmth had been festering inside your stomach and it had propelled your feet forward, until you reached the very centre of the Slytherin soiree commencing in the common room.

Your core is still aching with the after affects of your fingers as you manoeuvre your way through the party. You were touching yourself under satin sheets only moments ago-spurred on by the imaginings of his bloodied fingers slipping inside you, stabbing your cunt until you mewled like a useless whore and he affirmed you as such. His recklessness and delinquency cracked something vital in your brain and you felt yourself get wetter as you pushed through the crowd. You needed him to touch you, your body practically burned for him to absolutely ruin you, and you set out to do just that.

Although you had turned down a concoction of Firewhiskey from an already inebriated Ravenclaw student, your stomach burns with the anticipation of seeing him.

Feeling him.

Smelling his near constant fragrance of Firewhiskey along his lips. You were never clingy but you wished for nothing more than to be in the presence of your insufferable and clingy boyfriend.

A month into your courtship, and you had failed to bring up how much of his habits bypass all sensibilities in your brain. If only he knew how much his recklessness brought about an unmistakable moisture in between your thighs. That,coupled with his bruised and bloody knuckles, spurred on your need, especially during this time of the month.

It had been easy to maintain your composure throughout the rest of the month, effortless, even. Detachment and independence was a by-product of your personality, showing up in the way you shied away from Mattheo's public affections and always appearing uninterested in any of his verbal charms.

One such occasion; you had found him taking up purchase on your bed after an incredibly tiresome day as a Slytherin prefect.

"Make yourself scarce, Riddle. I'm not in the mood," He, of course, was delighted in your indifference- truthfully, he basked in it. Mattheo was somewhat of a masochist, craving the attention of someone so emotionally detached. The very second he noticed how unaffected you appeared with his shenanigans. He might as well have transfigured into a mermaid, because he was hooked.

"How easy you are to repel my affections," He said, letting a bandaged hand fall on his chest as he lay supine like a starfish on your Satin sheets, "How swiftly you deny my companionship-"

"Dont you have any orphans to torture?"

You mourn the past you... how indifferent she had been.

How utterly in control!

The bed dipped as he slithered closer, letting a hand rest on your shoulders as he began to knead the tense muscle there.

"Don't I get a 'How was your day, Riddle?' How did you sleep, Riddle? How did you acquire these bruises, Riddle, and I hope you looked hot doing it, Riddle" it was then that you glanced at the hand on your shoulder. Busted knuckles bred bloodied and broken skin. Riddle's hand was a smorgasbord of cuts and bruises that disappeared up his black, cotton sleeve shirt. You ignored the useless warmth knotting in your core as you continued to undo your shoelaces.

"I needn't ask you because I know you were in the centre of yet another degenerate fight," you had said, burying all the feelings of need amongst your usual, scholarly distractions.

"You love it"

"I hate it actually. It makes me question my affiliation with you.

"You say that princess, but you secretly love it"

You did love it, and right now, distracting yourself is not an option. You watch with bated breath as the object of your affections walks into the Slytherin common rooms. There are plenty of bodies swaying in the dungeons illuminated by various Ravenclaws who have casted Lumos

You see Riddle across the room, head thrown back while he nursed a cup of Firewhiskey. When his head comes back, he sees you too, he raises his cup and he pushes himself off the wall to lessen the distance between you. Your legs certainly achieve a quicker gait as you push past the swaying bodies and soon enough you're bombarded by firewhiskey, with an undercurrent of sweat and leather.

The second you’re close, Riddle lowers his cup on the desk, already having his explanations ready for the impending combat. "If you think I'm gonna let you take my freedom away again, you’re fucking crazy. I'm barely buzzed and I'm getting drunk, or high by the end of this night and there's nothing you-" But your fist is already digging into the softness of his button up shirt and your lips are open as you force them onto his.

Right there, in the open.

Mattheo is naturally stunned, possibly discombobulated.

Had he really gotten higher than he thought?

Did that fucking Hufflepuff make him a stepped on joint?

Frankly, he couldn't care less, and as the shock of it all wore down, and he could feel you begin to slip away, Mattheo slithers his battered hand around your waist and pulls you impossibly close. He smirks into the kiss, as he brings his hand up, fingers gliding across your collarbone, while the other hand lingers around your waist.

"What happened to your hand?" It is a question that threatens to burst the bubble established between the two of you. Why would you ask him this? Why would you bring him back to the events of earlier today when you were so prettily malleable in his hands right now?

"Nothing,"

"Matt..." You say, clouding your words with innuendo, which has him looking up at you with furrowed brows.

"Nott," Is all he says before he buries himself in the crook of your neck. His proximity awakens something animalistic inside of you, it pushes you to the depths of your lascivious desires and has you melting right there on the dance floor. All around you, fellow Slytherins continue to sway to the beat, letting the thrum of the enchanted muggle music speak for them. You throw your head back, gasping at the overwhelming need pooling in your core as Riddle begins to send reckless kisses down your collarbone, all while you imagine beating another guy silly. You blame your cycle. You blame your body. You blame every single hormone responsible for allowing you to emit such a wanton moan so openly in the very centre of a crowd.

"Who do I have to kill in order to get this reaction out of you everyday?" Mattheo is panting, with his hazel eyes dilated (whether from pleasure or substance, you might never know). Who do I have to curse in order to get you to be this slutty for me every single day?" His breathing is shallow and audible, even through all the noise. Mattheo's mind is foggy and the party guests are reduced to a memory. The only image he's able to conjure up is his lips between your wet folds - his tongue eager to find the source of your need while you moaned above him and kneaded your own breasts in a slutty haze.

"I need you, Mattheo," it was fucking infuriating to admit but the wetness has completely soaked through your underwear and a fresh scar is present in the corner of Mattheo's eye. There's a slight red smudge under his nose, and his knuckles are red and angry at the best of your neck, cradling your head close to his.

"Say that again-"

"What? No, I will not fucking-"

Mattheo's grip on your neck immediately unhooks and he detangles your limbs but before he ventures any furthers you're pulling him down to you and with your lips to Mattheo's greedy ears you angrily mutter, "I fucking need you. I need you really badly,"

He stares in your desperate, dark eyes with wonder and awe before letting your wrist be enclosed by his iron grip. Soon, you're being dragged through a Slytherin party with a boy adjusting the front lf his pants and barking orders at the drunken strangers to move before they fucking died.

Just as you succeed in cutting through the crowd a voice stops both of you in your tracks.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Riddle," the voice booms from over the thumping bass of whatever muggle music was enchanted over the dungeon. Mattheo's gaze cuts away from you, but before he turns completely away, a slow Cheshire cat grin curls at the ends of his lips.

"That threat has grown so unimaginably tedious after years of overuse, Theo but I can't do this right now-" His sentence has already been cut short by an audible blow to his lower jaw. Theo Nott blocked your path towards the darkened hallway, leading to your dorm room and you're left wholly unsatisfied as Mattheo is sent barreling backwards. He lets go of your hand, stopping to wipe the wetness at the corners of his lips and checking to see if it's blood. It is. And something scratches inside of you.

The Prefect inside you wants to intervene but an even darker part of you tells you not to.

Theo is livid, and his wide chest rises and falls as he descends on Mattheo,

"Why the fuck am I being told by Draco of all people, that I can't play Keeper because I'm stuck in the hospital wing-"

"Theo, I really don't have the time for this-" Mattheo begins, but Theo cuts him short,

"Are you trying to steal my fucking place, Riddle?"

Mattheo's voice is leveled as he raises his fingers and says, "Okay, first off, yeah, I am. Obviously I'm trying to take your place. You're a shit Keeper and secondly, I've got somewhere to be," Theo's barreling towards Mattheo once more.

A silly, borderline maniacal smirk explodes on Riddle's face before he makes the shotgun decision to charge and lands a punch at Theo's jaw, allowing for the taller boy to stagger backwards. Your shoulders jump, and you flinch at the sickening sound as you watch with a wide gaze as Mattheo nurses his hurt hand. Theo is a raging bull, but Draco appears from the crowd, with a firm grip on Theo's shoulder. A stern, quiet reprimand.

At the exact same moment, Mattheo's hand finds yours and he smirks as he stalks past Nott, wiping away at his chin as he leads you towards your dorm.

The quietness within is almost jarring compared to the noise out there and as soon as the door closes, Mattheo's lips descend on your neck, "I know, I know," He sighs heavily, as he brings his hand up to your shoulder, "I’m sorry. I just hope I haven't ruined the vibe-"

"I want your fingers inside me, Riddle." He stills at your quiet command, and you leave him standing by the door as you pad over to your bed. "I don't know why, but I just need you, okay? And my own fingers aren't quite doing the trick and I keep thinking about how fucking crazy you are and-", You sigh as you sit at the foot of the bed. Lifting the skirt of your dress, Mattheo watches in the dimness of your room as you venture your fingers under your dress and hook them into your panties. He walks towards you, propelling the wings of the butterflies in your stomach.

All he says is, "Which hand?" He doesn't know why he asks, but he does and his voice is barely above a whisper as he hopes you pick the right answer. His cock twitches in his underwear at the thought of seeing his blood on your skin.

Mattheo stops in between your legs, causing the fabric of the dress to rise while a breeze drifts over your soaked pussy. You bend forward and reach for his bloodied hand.

"I want your fingers inside me,"

Mattheo's resolve immediately snaps and his hands grip tightly at your hips, pushing you backwards and exposing your wet core to him.

"You're fucking dripping through the sheets like a slut- you're a fucking slut,"

Excitement. It rushes through you like a wave of magma at the neediness in his own voice.

Matheo rushes to rid both of you of the excess fabric, casting Evansco, until all he can see is your warm, glistening skin.

"Oh my fuck-" Mattheo's voice cracks as he stares down at your aching cunt, his fingers almost instinctively rubbing over the wetness.

"Touch your breasts," He commands, "I wanna see you do it,"

Your eyes pierce into his dark ones as you bring a shaky hand up towards your puckered nipples. The smallest brush elicits a violent streak of pleasure which would have occupied your entire mind were it not for Mattheo's long fingers already stabbing into your dripping cunt.

"Fuck, you're so wet," He whines, unconsciously burying his hips into the sheets at the foot of your bed as he watches. He is utterly transfixed by his middle and ring finger disappearing into your cunt. Every time they sink deeper your mind gets filled with images of Riddle's unrest and violence. You're utterly wrecked with the thought of his bloodied fingers being inside you, touching the most private parts of you.

"Pick up the pace, Riddle,"

"Shut the fuck up," He mumbles as he takes his time in exploring the very depths of you. Your voice soars to higher octaves as you feel your first orgasm cresting quite literally against your will. How utterly embarrassing, to cum so quickly.

"You're fucking squeezing my fingers- fuck-" You're desperately humping at his hand, hoping your hips might achieve the feat of sinking his fingers further into you. "You're humping my hand so fucking well." His cock aches as he continues to grind it into the sheets, in tandem with your swollen cunt taking his fingers.

"Are you seriously going to cum so soon? Are you that desperate to get fucked-" Your cunt spasms around his fingers and you're moaning as you squeeze your sensitive breasts, already soaring to the heights of your orgasm. Your screams rival the music outside but Riddle never tells you to keep quiet, instead he watches with hungry eyes as your body melts into its orgasm.

"Look at what the fuck you've done," Mattheo's words have you slowly coming back to earth, but not quite... his voice is heavy with lust as you raise yourself by your elbows. Your stomach sinks as you watch Mattheo, he's frozen in front of you, with his head lowered and his gaze on his palm.

"I-I'm sorry-" Your sheets were soaked with your release, leaving a visible damp spot. You squirted everywhere.

"You're gonna do that on my cock," before you can comprehend your words Mattheo already has his cock positioned at your wet folds.

"I'm going to fucking cum inside you and you're going to take it, yeah?" The serious shadow in his darkened eyes hold no room for negotiation, you'd never seen Mattheo quite this serious because seriousness just didn't run in his bloodstream. However, he's utterly ruined by your neediness, needing to take advantage of your compliance before it slipped through his fingers.

"Oh my fuck- Mattheo!"He pulls your hips towards the edge of the bed and his cock forces itself through your folds, until Mattheo is quite literally fucking you with reckless abandon.

"Matt- I can't-'' You're still riding on the sensitivity of your previous high and you think Mattheo could be a little mindful of this but his goal, it seems, is to leave you overstimulated.

"You can," he mumbles, with his eyes squeezing shut before he quickly opens them, wanting to see every emotion flowing over your face.

"You're a slut but you're not a useless slut, are you?" You tits bounce with every movement of Mattheo's hips, and you're shaking your head despite the fog. Your cunt is squeezing the life out of his cock and you feel him pushing at a very sensitive part of you.

Your head is buried in the pillows as your back arches and you swallow him deeper.

Mattheo bends forward, his hips quickening into a needy, restless rut as his teeth sink into the skin around your nipples.

"FUCK-" The pain bleeds into pleasure which streams into your next orgasm. Riddle moans around your skin, suckling at your nipple while he fucked you like he is as touch starved as you are.

"I'm cumming, Matt-" The fact that you're still able to form words is a complete and utter mystery because, not a second later, you're exploding around his cock. A gushing, clear liquid rushes through you while your lips chant his name like a prayer.

"I'm going to fucking breed you, baby- oh fuck, you're so pretty squirting around my cock-" the cracks in his voice; the desperation laced on every word has him cumming inside you, pushing his hips with every spurt of warmth.

You're still shuddering when Mattheo slumps over you. You're both huffing and puffing and basking in each other's release with his cock still very much inside you. "You're getting a contraception potion from Madame Pomfrey tomorrow," you can do nothing except nod as your satisfaction settles.

"I'll come with you," He says.

#mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle #mattheo x y/n #mattheo x you #hp fanfcition #hp fanfic #hp smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter smut #harry potter fanfic #mattheo riddle x black!reader #x reader

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nereidprinc3ss · 2 months

Text

just like heaven

in which flirty!reader finally confesses her feelings to a pining spencer reid after a night out. she's slightly buzzed. it's complicated.

fluff (some angst) warnings/tags: fem!reader, reader drinks alcohol, dirty jokes, so much flirting and banter, some arguing kinda, but spencer is such a gentleman, everyone gets flustered at least once, they really wanna kiss, happy ending a/n: gif :D I hope u like this! not bandages reader but like same vibes. like an AU for my AU

“Emily!”

You drawl the ee sound long, the same way you reach across the table and wiggle your fingers at her half-empty glass. Thin dark brows dart up beneath that glossy sweep of reddish-black hair.

“Oh, wow. That’s unsettling. What?”

It’s been at least an hour since you had a drink of your own, but enough alcohol is still flowing through your veins so as to render her offensive comment inoffensive. You love Emily. You love the Tequila Sunrise sweating onto the sticky table in front of her which she’s not going to finish.

“I think she wants your drink,” JJ assists, cheek balanced tipsily on a propped up fist.

“Uh…”

Emily’s doe-sweet eyes flash uncertainly behind you.

“I’m basically sober,” you insist, laying your head on your outstretched arm and letting your hair cascade as you bat your lashes, offering her your sweetest smile. “Please, Em?”

It does not go according to plan. She scoffs.

“Are you flirting with me right now?”

“... Would that work?”

“Oh my god, just… cool it with the fuck-me eyes,” she laughs. “You can have the drink.”

You sit up, turning just barely over your shoulder to address Spencer.

“See? Emily buys me drinks. Basically.”

She slides the drink toward you, with a subtle roll of her eyes that you choose to interpret as affectionate under the dim canned lighting. As you sit back, content and free drink in hand, her eyes slide to Reid in the seat next to you, brows arching.

“Are you sure you can handle her all on your own?”

“Handle me?” You frown deeply as Emily gathers her purse and slides out of the booth, followed shortly thereafter by JJ. “I don’t need handling.”

“Then why do you have a handler?” JJ teases.

You slump against the worn vinyl, stirring what is mostly orange juice.

“He most definitely is not my handler. He’s my science project.”

“I got it,” Spencer assures your friends, with his trademark flattened smile. You can’t help but watch him with a grin of your own, flipping the straw in the drink and nibbling on the end until it’s stained sparkly pink. Goodbyes are issued, and soon it’s just the two of you. Perhaps it’s a tipsy delusion, but you think he seems to relax slightly when you’re alone. His eyes are easy on you. “You know, you’re not actually decreasing the amount of germ transmission by using the other end of the straw.”

“Mm… pretty sure alcohol kills germs, Doctor.”

At that, you giggle.

Doctor.

Soon you’re covering your face and having a full-fledged laugh attack.

“What?” Spencer asks. From between your fingers you can see that he’s smiling guardedly, brows furrowed in a way that reminds you he’s often worried about being the butt of a joke and not knowing it. “What’s funny?”

“Nothing,” you assure him quickly, gathering yourself. “I just… can’t believe you’re a doctor.”

“Why not? What’s so unbelievable about that?”

“You’re so young.”

And handsome.

“I’m not that young. I’m older than you,” he defends. Only by a handful of years, but you know he’s defensive about his age after a lifetime of being told he looks young for—well, everything.

“You’re… 32?”

That’s not right—you know as soon as you say it.

“Thirty three.” He very politely captures a hand—your hand—that had at some point ended up a little too close to his eye. You’re not sure what you planned to do once it got there—you don’t recall moving it at all.

“Sorry.” You take your hand back, choosing to instead fiddle with a button on his coat ponderously. “33 is a good age.”

“Yeah?” Spencer laughs, angling his head as if to regard you from a new angle. It warms you all over. Burns in some places, like a shot of liquor down your throat. Makes you just as dizzy, too. “You have a lot of experience being thirty three?”

“No, I just…” your cheeks heat and you wrestle with a timid smile, averting your gaze and dropping your hand for fear his grin this close up might actually kill you. “I like 33 year old you.”

“So… you didn’t like me when I was thirty two?”

“Stop,” you beg, a self-effacing laugh into the cup of your palm. “I can’t banter. I’m not at peak performance.”

The truth of it hits you, and you sigh, folding your arms on the table and resting your cloudy head. Only then, from this new perspective, do you allow yourself to fully admire Spencer Reid. He is smiling at you, and your heart does skip a beat like you’ve got some school girl crush. These days he wears his hair falling over his face, messy on purpose, and always smells so nice. You wonder when he started caring about that stuff. You want to see what products are in his shower, and learn why he chose that cologne, or how he decides to pair his socks. He probably has some sort of algorithm.

“Spencer,” you begin, the serious quality of your voice diminished by the smush of your cheek against your arm. Still, he tries to respect your tone, zipping the smile and answering with a playfully twitching brow.

“Hm?”

You want to push the hair out of his face. Why is he looking down at you like that? Like he likes you?

“You’re a very good handler.”

His eyes narrow as he considers this, but the glimmer in them could still spark a forest fire. You’re probably grinning like an idiot.

“Oh, I couldn’t handle you. You know this.”

You hum thoughtfully.

“I bet you could. Wanna try?”

Spencer shakes his head, huffing a laugh through his nose. To his credit, your bold-face innuendos don’t always send him into a tailspin these days.

Just sometimes.

“You need a ride home, don’t you?”

You sit back up, stretching your arms out.

“You don’t have to. I could get a cab.”

“I know,” he assures you, still a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips. Why. Is. He. Looking. At. You. Like. That?

“Will you let me drive?”

“I would. But, you know, my affairs aren’t in order.”

You roll your eyes as he gets out of the booth and offers you a hand.

“I’m not that drunk.”

Spencer just wiggles his fingers.

“If you can recite the alphabet in reverse you can drive my car.”

You roll your eyes again. Obviously he’s fucking with you, because 1. He’d never let you drive even the slightest bit inebriated, and 2. He knows you can’t say your ABC’s backward when you’re dead sober.

The truth is you’re more buzzed than anything. You could get up and walk fine without any assistance, but he’s offering you his hand, so you take it. After you’re standing, you wonder how many excuses could you possibly dream up to get it back in yours. Should you pretend to fall?

No. Not quite worth your self respect.

“You know…” you muse, reveling in the brief brush of him against your back as he holds open the door for you, “it’s a good thing you didn’t become, like… a medical doctor.”

Now walking side by side on the street, he glances over at you, a poorly veiled smile on his perfect face. Like a trap door brushed over with a few leaves. He wants you to see it.

“Why’s that?”

A breeze ruffles your hair. The brisk cold and the walk seem to be making things crisper already. You shrug, bunching your sleeves in your hands against the increasingly frigid night. The skirt and tights you’d chosen were perfect for a stuffy dive bar. Not so much for an early DC spring.

“Nobody wants a hot doctor.”

He looks down at the sidewalk, hands pocketed, but the curve of his lips doesn’t lessen.

“Hm. You’re drunker than I thought.”

“What? No! I’m—barely!” Again he laughs at you, and again you flush, looking down and counting the cracks in the pavement as you journey slowly under the bath of yellow street lights. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you called me hot.” He sounds almost delighted as he grins sheepishly around the final word.

You snort. You’ve said worse things, more graphic things within the past few hours alone—but you suppose they’ve all been more like dirty jokes than compliments.

“Yeah. You think you aren’t?”

Sandy locks fall side to side as he carefully measures a response. His cologne is warm—sort of smoky. It’s very nice. He doesn’t seem like he’d wear cologne. Have you already thought about his cologne tonight? Once was probably enough.

“I just think sober you wouldn’t have said that.”

“But don’t you prefer it when I’m aggressively flirting with you? I mean, I know I do it sober too, but it's not as good, right?”

A silent stretch begins and shortly ends, and you don’t mind it. Right now, everything is a winding path through the woods. You’re willing to follow any fork off the trail if it means spending more time with him.

“I guess I wasn’t aware that was what you were doing.”

“Oh, bullshit,” you laugh, and it echoes through the canyon of a nearby alley, “I’m not subtle, Reid.”

“I don’t know! You—for all I know that’s just how you are! I mean, what did Emily call them earlier, your—your fuck-me eyes?”

Like he does when he’s flustered, he gets shrill and stuttery. It’s nice to be reminded that he’s still a complete dork on the inside—and the outside, too, as pink stains his cheeks like watercolor. You smirk at him in your periphery, watching him against the darkened city backdrop.

“You noticed those, huh?”

“No,” he denies forcefully, but his brow is pinched like he doesn’t quite believe himself, “I mean, yes, I notice when you look at other people like that, but that’s not what I would call them—I wouldn’t call them anything, I’d just call them your eyes, you know? Not that you always look like you’re soliciting… the implication isn’t there, it’s just—I notice when you flirt with other people! With Emily, and Derek, like, not even half an hour ago. You’re lucky Hotch wasn’t there. You’d probably have given him a heart attack.”

“I’m more concerned with yours, to be honest.”

“My heart is fine,” he laughs. “Worry about my dignity.”

“Hm. I was going for both. Guess I’d better try harder.”

You don’t notice you’ve come to a stop until you’re face to face in front of his vintage Volvo. Spencer is standing closer than usual, hands perpetually stuck in that nice wool coat. He’s all windswept and pretty, smiling crookedly and eyes sparkly with humor. A strand of hair sticks to your lip gloss, and you brush it away, tucking it behind your ear and squinting up at him against the chilly breeze. The flush is either from the nip in the air or your brazen flirting.

“Or, you could go easy on me. I’m frail. Like a… sickly Victorian child.”

Again his brow knits and he smiles like he knows what he’s said is ridiculous. But his tone is gentler now. Softer. Invites you to fall in deeper and see what you might find.

“And ruin all my fun? Toughen up, Reid.”

For a long moment, you don’t get a response—only his eyes, soft and thoughtful on you, before you’re distracted by the sweet bow of his lips. If he notices you’re staring, it doesn’t seem to bother him.

But something evidently does, as when he next speaks, it’s troubled. Curiosity straining against a rope that says maybe it’s better if I don’t ask.

“Do… do you actually flirt with me? When you’re sober, I mean.”

He expects to be ridiculed. In his most vulnerable moments, he’s still bracing for rejection—turning his cheek slightly so he’s ready for the stinging blow. It opens a fissure in your chest. You frown, and speak gently.

“Yeah, Spence. More than anyone else. You really don’t notice?”

Sometimes his face is so expressive, in the pull of his brow and tightening of his eyes and the way he wets his lips. But he probably doesn’t know that. And he can’t seem to meet your eyes, instead choosing to study the leather of your heeled boots. Sounds of late-night traffic, of tires on wet asphalt buffer the pauses between sentences.

“I notice… when you talk to Derek and Emily and JJ and Penelope the exact same way you talk to me. I didn’t think…”

Another gap in conversation, filled with the chatter of some group pouring out of a bar somewhere. You realize he’ll need some gentle prompting to bridge it.

“You didn’t think what?”

When his eyes flash back up to meet yours, you have a feeling like he’s shutting the pipes off.

“It’s—uh—” he clears his throat— “it’s not important, we can—we’ll talk about it a different time. We should—”

“Wait.”

He’d been turning away but snaps right back to look at you as if on command, wearing a brand new face that tells you he’d like to wipe the past minute or so completely away.

“Yeah?”

“Spencer. I wanna know what you were going to say.”

“I told you. It’s nothing.”

“You didn’t tell me. You mumbled evasively and walked away. We were in the middle of something and I want to know what you were going to say. Please?”

“Well, you’re drunk,” he finally sighs, and it’s a bit sharp. Stinging.

“I am not drunk,” you defend, and it feels true, with a bitter cold lashing at your cheek and blood heightened from the walk. “You know I’m not too drunk to have a coherent conversation. Why are you being weird?”

“Because I asked you to drop it! We can’t have this conversation right now, all right? I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Your stomach flips, and your breath comes a little heavier. Spencer is clearly frustrated with you. Maybe being on the wrong end of this mild vexation, and so suddenly, should make you feel guilty, or some kind of bad—but all you feel is a sort of buzz in the tips of your fingers and the thrum of your heart, something deeper than excitement pooling in your veins at having inspired this sort of passion. It means he feels something. Something for you.

“I’m sorry,” he tries halfheartedly, unable or more likely unwilling to stay angry at you for very long, “you didn’t—”

“What conversation?”

It’s jarring how quickly this has spun on its head. The very air you’re breathing seems to have changed. The metropolitan soundscape is a rife undercurrent of tension and louder from all the words unsaid.

Finally he swallows.

“There’s no conversation. I’m—it was a poor choice of wording. I just meant we should get you home.”

Before he can make it to the driver’s side door, you’re calling out.

“You think I don’t like you. And I just flirt with you ‘cause I flirt with everyone.”

Spencer stops, and turns to face you once more, sighing and head dropped to one side like you’re doing something incredibly inconsiderate. He’s never looked at you like that before, but you don’t let it shake you.

“That’s what this is about, right?”

He says your name, but you don’t let him get further than that.

“No, I think there is a conversation here, and saying I’m not sober enough to have it isn’t fair and you should have said something before and I think you should just say it now.”

You’re pushing his buttons with a heavy hand, though your own voice shakes. He’s feeling it too—you’ve never been so short with each other. His voice is raised.

“What am I supposed to say?”

It boils over.

“That you like me!”

It rings.

Then it’s silent.

His face is mostly blank. A little sorrowful around his eyes.

It’s cold, jumping into the deep end like this.

“We can’t talk about this right now,” he finally says, glancing to the side as if to suggest a situation the size of the whole city.

“Spencer, I—”

“It’s impossible to have a meaningful discussion until your judgement isn’t impaired, otherwise it’s—”

“I am telling you that I flirt with you because I really like you.”

“I—”

It appears you’ve truly thrown him for a loop. For a moment his jaw works at nothing, a soliloquy of words go unspoken, and then he’s stuttering and fumbling for the right thing to say, looking everywhere but at you.

“I can’t—that’s—regardless of whether or not it’s even true—”

“It is true.”

“Could you—stop?” He pleads. “You can’t tell me that. I mean, the power imbalance when you’ve been drinking and I haven’t—it’s—I mean, it's coercive. Because I brought it up, I asked an inappropriate question—or at least started to ask it, and you—not that it was your fault, I’m the responsible party in this instance, but if tomorrow you realize you never wanted to tell me—so I have to take that with a grain of salt. I’m just—I have to pretend I didn’t hear that, alright? And you can’t say it again.”

He’s ridiculous. You shift your weight onto one foot casually.

“That’s not very nice. I just confessed to having a huge crush on you and you’re gonna leave me hanging?”

There is an undeniable sort of pleasure in the bright of his eyes, and you phrased it that way on purpose, just to see him preen and glow—also to see if you could make him trip all over himself some more. Right now, despite the liminal space your relationship may or may not be occupying, you’re teasing him like you always do. Like he’s a friend, because he is. Before anything else.

He tries to glower, barely.

“Were you listening to me at all?”

“It was hard with all the stammering. I thought you might pass out.”

“I might,” he grumbles, and the admission pleases you greatly. Your lips tug as you admire him for a moment—watch his defenses go down and his features ease into something more inviting.

God, maybe you really had been too hard on him. Maybe he really didn’t expect that you would like him back.

You’re struck with the need to reassure.

A dampened clack emits from your shoe where the heel hits the ground as you step down off the curb.

“You know… I do like you. A lot. I mean it. And I’m glad I told you, because... you like me too, right?”

He raises his brows, like don’t do anything stupid, as you approach unhurriedly. It’s good to see that you haven’t broken his spirit completely.

Less than a foot away, you stop. Close enough to be in his space. Too far for him to have the grounds to step back.

His eyes are careful on you, analytical as always, constantly predicting an infinite number of outcomes to any given scenario. That’s how he keeps his footing in the world. But he’s never very good at predicting you. And it helps that his razor sharp intellect is dulled, some, with affection. Attraction.

It shows in his eyes. He’ll let you push boundaries he knows he shouldn’t. More so if you keep speaking to him this softly. Almost whispering.

“Tell me you like me, Spencer.”

Because he hasn’t yet. All the heavy lifting has been done for him, and that just won’t do.

First, he opens his mouth, and you watch the internal debate, a million things he could say, spinning round in his eyes like pinwheels. Rules, and buts, and caveats.

In the end, he just clears his throat. Speaks in the same secretive tone. Low enough to be intimate.

“I like you.”

Such a simple thing has never made you feel so airy before in your life. You steal another glance at his lips.

“So it’s really not that complicated. We could probably just kiss.”

He tinges pink.

“We definitely can’t.”

“You also said we couldn’t talk about it, and yet…”

“Talking is different. As far as I’m concerned, nothing you say to me tonight is binding. Whatever just transpired happened completely off the record. We can… talk about it tomorrow, but right now, you and I are friends.”

You shrug.

“Friends can kiss.”

“No, they can’t,” he says definitively, though not without a healthy dose of sardonic self-awareness and a dark smile. His hand finds your waist, and it’s glancing, if anything a light push, but you’re delighted nonetheless. Almost as pleased as if he really had kissed you. “It’s cold. I’m ready to leave.”

You’ve pushed him enough for one night. And it is cold. So you shuffle around the car with quick steps to the passenger side door, hooking your fingers under the biting metal handle and waiting for him to unlock the vehicle.

You’re shivering as your thighs press against leather upholstery, only the thinnest layer of synthetic material protecting your legs. Spencer is already starting the car, but the engine is too cold to bother turning the heat on yet.

“I think it’s colder in here than outside. Look at my hand.” You hold it up for him, and it is discolored, waxy, as he mindlessly takes it between his own much warmer ones. “I thought alcohol was supposed to keep you warm. Didn’t that chef on the Titanic survive hours in the ocean because he was hammered?”

“That’s a myth. Not the chef—he did survive, but it was a complete anomaly. Alcohol causes vasodilation in the dermis layer of the skin, so you feel warmer, but it draws blood flow away from your internal organs and significantly raises your likelihood of developing hypothermia.”

Does he notice how he’s holding your hand? Carefully pressing his thumbs to the center of your palm and pushing up through your love and life lines, cupping the fingers, before sandwiching them between his own and generating friction the way a child furiously rolls a play-doh worm?

“I guess I’m really not that drunk, then.”

He’s not expecting it, and maybe he doesn’t know what to make of your exceptionally gentle tone at first. It was a mistake, you think, as he relinquishes his hold on your hand, and you curl it to retain the memory of his warmth. But then he tucks hair behind your ear, like he’s done once or twice before, and smiles in a way you don’t quite understand.

“I know.”

You won’t push him. You won’t ask for anything else, and you won’t demand an explanation. Spencer is special. It can all wait, because you have something good with him already. Something important. Something like holding hands.

It comes as a surprise when he leans across the console, and you lean in a trance to meet him, and another surprise when he gently redirects, pressing his lips to your cheek, close enough to match the corners of your mouths and nothing more.

You’d let him do it a hundred times over, but he draws back after a fraction of a lingering second, and finds your hand to stroke the back of it, forgotten in your lap.

“You said no kissing,” you murmur, as if in a dream. If you had the wherewithal to be embarrassed maybe you wouldn’t be ogling so much.

“Compromise.”

If anything, you should be the cheek-kisser. But there will be time to feel slighted about that later. Time to amend. For now, you look ahead robotically.

“Is there a rule against friendly hand-holding?”

“Probably,” he says.

But he lets you hold his hand in your lap the whole drive to your apartment, anyway.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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trumanbluee · 2 months

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you're the one that i want - deadpool / wade wilson

minors dni !! this is 17+ nsfw material !!!

please reblog if you like it! ᡣ𐭩

based on this request! <3

content: three words, baby! the honda odyssey!

word count: 2.5k

warnings: established relationship, no mention of condom (wrap it b4 u tap it!), petnames galore, deadpool is a warning in of himself lol.

a/n: the deadpool brainrot has been so strong recently so thank u guys so much for all ur requests! my return to my deadpool era couldn't have come at a worse time with my exams happening rn but i will try and write as much as i can! love you!

You'd been sitting in the backseat of the "fuck-ass Honda Odyssey", as Wade had described it, arm resting on the centre console, your head propped up on your palm lamely as you turn it left to right, half-listening to Wade and Logan argue like you're at a tennis match.

You'd almost flown forward into the front of the car when it came to an abrupt stop, tyres screeching as you let out a soft yelp in surprise. Wade hears you, and wordlessly pushes you back softly. You'd heard something spat out from Logan, along the lines of "You'll never save the fucking world!", followed by Wade's voice saying, "I'm gonna fight you now." and then the sound of a sickening crunch as he punches Logan in the nose.

It's milliseconds before you see your boyfriend's arm reach back and open your door, gently ushering you out with a soft, "Why don't you go for a walk, pretty girl?"

You know better than to argue, especially with Logan seething in the front seat, so you hop out of the car, shutting the door behind you as you trudge off into the trees, half grateful for being kicked out of the car so you didn't have to listen to Logan's grumbles when you inevitably had to ask him to pull over so you could pee.

You could hear the yelling and grunting in the distance, shaking your head as you hear the faint shatter of glass, followed by a - less than masculine - squeal from your boyfriend. You laughed to yourself, not worried in the slightest as you hear the fighting between the two, Logan's growls echoing through the trees as he squelches his claws into your boyfriend's stomach.

You'd told Wade to give Logan a break, and that eventually he would find out about his 'educated wish', but he hadn't listened, instead continuing to push and push and push Logan until, expectedly, he reached his breaking point.

You wandered around amongst the trees for a while, before slumping against a tree not too far from the car, your eyes growing heavy as you listened to the soft rustle of the leaves above you.

You wake up groggily, looking around the room as you rub sleep from your eyes. You startle when a red suit appears in front of you, but it's not the Deadpool suit that you're all too familiar with.

"I'm Elektra, that's Gambit," the woman points to a man in a helmet, who's stood in the corner, playing with cards, "and that's Blade," she points over her shoulder with her thumb to the man in a long, leather trench-coat.

"I.. uhm.. Hi?" you say, taken aback by this sudden bombardment of strangers.

"We're helping you and your friends get out of the void." Elektra explains, offering her hand to help you stand up. You take it gratefully.

"...Oh, cool..." you say, still groggy from being asleep for so long. "..are.. are they around?"

Elektra nods, pointing outside with her head, "Yellow's by the fire, Red's... around here somewhere."

You nod, thanking her and smiling awkwardly at Blade and Gambit as you walk outside, the smoke from the fire consuming your nostrils as you step out. You spot Logan by the fire, but see that he's sitting with someone.

'She looks an awful lot like that X-23 girl we saw at the TVA.' you think, not ruling out the possibility that it is her with the level of weirdness that had already occurred during your short time in the void. You tread on, looking around before you spot the Honda Odyssey. You shake your head, rolling your eyes as you walk to the drivers door of the car, opening it to reveal your boyfriend in the back-seat, pulling his katana's out of the passenger's seat next to you as you plop into the driver's seat.

He looks up when he hears the car door open, and the white eyes of his mask visible soften as he sees you.

"Hey baby," he coos, scooching forward in the back-seat to press a soft kiss to your cheek through his mask as you sit in the driver's seat, peeking over the headrest to look back at him, "was wonderin' when you were gonna wake up, sleepy head."

You smile softly, before taking a moment to look around at the damage done to the car. Your eyes go wide and your hand flies to your mouth, the other reaching back to swat at Wade's shoulder.

"Wade! What the fuck did you two get up to in here? Jesus Christ!"

You hear a whisper of 'Baby Knife!' followed by a soft grunt as Wade pockets another one of his knives.

"Just some good ol' fashioned fightin', baby! I'm kinda sad you missed it, that shit got good!"

You tut, leaning around the driver's seat to look at him as he's hunched over, digging for another one of his knives beneath the seat.

You hear him mumble something along the lines of 'Hate this fuckin' car' before he shoots up, and you can sense his smile through the mask. He leans back in the seats that are in the very back of the car, right leg thrown over one seat, with his other leg spread, suit-clad knee pressing into the fabric of the other. His eyes sharpen as he looks at you, before groaning softly, throwing his head back in a circle, and sighing.

"Fuck, princess, that fightin's gotten me all worked up," he groans, chin pressed to the top of his chest as he looks at you, eyes narrowed.

You feel your thighs rub together at the way he looks at you, the manspreading the cherry on top of a very, very, delicious looking dessert. He chuckles, gesturing to your thighs with his head.

"Saw that, baby." He laughs to himself before he lifts his hand, beckoning you to him with two fingers, his other hand resting on the headrest of the seat in front of him, twiddling Baby Knife between his fingers.

You squirm in your seat before not so agilely climbing over the centre console, crawling over the seat and onto Wade’s lap. He pockets Baby Knife, bringing a hand up to pull the bottom of his mask up, the other settling on your ass as you straddle his waist.

“Hey doll-face,” he murmurs, smiling and giving your ass a playful squeeze, pulling his mask fully off before placing his hand on the nape of your neck, pulling you into a kiss.

You moan against his lips as you kiss back, his gloved hand giving your ass a firmer squeeze. Wade uses this opportunity to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue past your lips as you gasp into his mouth. Your hips grind down subconsciously and he pulls away from the kiss, both of your chests rising quickly as you both try and regain your breath from the heated kiss.

Wade smirks up at you, moving both of his hands to your hips, squeezing softly, pulling a giggle from your lips before he’s engulfing them in another breathless kiss. He moves your hips with his hands, grinding you down on his boner as it tents in his suit, causing him to buck up absentmindedly as he groans into your mouth. Your breathy whimpers vibrate against his lips, and he pulls away, leaning his head back against the headrest behind him.

“…Fuck, doll-face,” he groans, looking up at you, “ look what you're fuckin’ do to me, baby.”

He nods down to his dick, almost bursting out of his suit, and your mouth nearly drops open. Wade thinks to himself that if you were in an animé, you’d have heart emojis bulging from your eyes.

He takes his hands off your hips, crossing his arms behind his head in faux-laziness as he watches you undo the buckle of his belt, slapping the sides of his legs softly, signalling for him to lift his hips.

“Watch it, doll-face.” Wade warns, half-joking, “Ask me nicely, please.”

You groan, giving him your ‘are-you-fucking-serious-right-now’ glare as you tug at his belt. He’d been on the receiving end of this look many times in the past, so he’s unfazed as he chuckles dryly, planting his hips down.

“I can wait, Princess.”

You roll your eyes, huffing. “Please, Wade,” you glare at him, “Will you please lift your hips up so I can get your dick out?”

You add a pout and a flutter of your lashes at the end, and his resolve noticeably crumbles. He huffs, lifting his hips up off the car seat just enough for you to pull down his pants slightly. You dip your hand into his underwear, giving his dick a soft tug before freeing it from the tight pants of his Deadpool suit.

You gather some spit in your mouth, looking at your boyfriend through your lashes before spitting onto the tip of his cock, using your hand to spread it along his length, squeezing softly around the base. Wade groans from below you, his hips bucking into your hand.

“Fuck, hotstuff, ya’ killin’ me here.”

Wade hisses as you squeeze a bit harder around his dick, the pretty ring he’d proposed to you with cold against his skin.

He almost whines, stopping himself by biting his lip, “Oh, c’mon baby, what’d I do to deserve this teasin’, huh? I fought so valiantly against ol’ Wolvie, didn’t I, princess? Don’t I deserve to be treated nicely?”

Something about the whiny-ness of his tone sends a pang to your heart, and pussy, and you grind down against his thigh absentmindedly before putting both your hands on his shoulders.

“Help me out, would ya’, Wadey?” you ask sweetly, shimmying your hips slightly to gain his attention.

His hands fly to your tights, tugging them down your thighs, lifting your legs softly, one by one, and peeling your pants off, leaving you hovering above him in your prettiest pair of panties. You’d been wearing them as a birthday surprise for him, but you’d both been snagged by the TVA before you could put them to good use… until now.

Wade’s breath hitches from beneath you as his eyes land on your panties, his lower lip bitten between his teeth as his chest heaves.

“Fuck, doll-face, what’re you all dressed up for?” he says, tracing a gloved hand over the lacy hem of your white panties, pressing a soft kiss to the little blue bow in the middle, before blowing a puff of cool air onto the damp spot beneath it.

Your legs wobble softly and a shiver runs up your spine, leaving you grateful for your hands planted on your boyfriend's broad shoulders.

You muster the breath to say, “They’re for you, baby… Well, they were for your birthday…”

He groans softly, pressing a soft kiss to your mound before pushing the thin fabric to the side, swiping a gloved finger through your slick.

“Shit, baby.. Y’so wet f’me,” he says, voice breathless. “Fuck those stupid fucking day players, keeping my beautiful fiance, and her beautiful fucking panties from me on my birthday. What assholes, hey baby?” He says, pressing his thumb to your clit harshly as he blows another puff of air onto your slick pussy, causing your hips to buck into the air.

You whine softly, bringing a hand to pump Wade’s cock once again, nodding mindlessly at his question that he knows you didn’t even hear.

Wade chuckles, the sound rumbling from deep in his chest and shooting straight to your cunt, your thighs squeezing around his hand as he thumbs your clit lazily.

You shuffle yourself forward on his lap, holding onto Wade’s strong shoulder with your hand, the other slowly pumping his cock as you lift yourself up, breathing hitching as you push yourself down onto the tip of Wade’s dick.

His breath hitches beneath you, rubbing soothing circles on your hips through his gloves as you sink down onto him. His hands grip your hips tighter as he bottoms out, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamp down on his length.

“Shit, baby, I could blow my load right now.” Wade gasps, head thrown back as his grip tightens on your hips, moving you up and down on his cock. You follow suit with his movements, digging your nails into the fabric of his suit as you leverage yourself on his shoulders, pushing yourself up and slamming yourself down on his cock, a moan slipping from your lips at every drag of his dick along your walls.

Your hips stutter slightly, and Wade takes this as his cue, moving his hands from your hips to gain a strong grip on your ass, lifting you up and slamming his hips to meet yours. You whine softly, eyebrows knitting together and biting your lip as the soft squelch of your wetness reverberates around the car, your chest heaving with exertion, skin dewy with a thin sheen of sweat.

You throw your head back, moaning wantonly, one hand coming off of Wade’s shoulder and pressing against the roof of the car.

“...Shit…Wade!” you stammer as he moves one hand to your lower stomach, his thumb pressing harshly on your clit through his glove.

You slam your hips down to meet Wade's quicker, chasing your high as Wade slams his hips up to meet yours, his head thrown back against the head-rest behind him, eyes closed, as he groans softly.

"C'mon, doll-face," Wade grunts from beneath you, rubbing cruel circles on your clit as he bucks into you, "...y'gonna cum? Can feel you squeezing around me, princess."

You moan softly, babbling something like a 'uh-huh' as your eyebrows knit together, eyes shutting tight as you feel the coil building in your lower belly, threatening to snap any moment.

Wade feels you clamping around him, looking up and watching as you throw your head back, your grip on his shoulder tightening.

"That's it, baby," he groans from under you, pinching at your clit meanly causing you to whimper softly, your head coming forward, forehead resting against his as you grind down onto his cock.

"C'mon, hotstuff, give it to me..." he grunts, feeling his own orgasm coming as you clench down on him like a vice, a string of curse words sputtering from your lips as he feels you gush around him.

"...Shit, baby... Good girl," he coos, fucking you through your orgasm as he cums, soft grunts sounding in your ear as he bucks into you before stilling, stopping the movements of his thumb on your clit, as he lifts you up gently and pulls out. He pulls his hand away from your clit, but not before collecting a part of the mixture of yours and his cum on his gloved fingers, pushing it slowly back in to your drooling pussy. You whine, overstimulated, and he tuts, pushing your panties back into place and pulling your pants back up your legs, leaning back in the seat as you slump against his chest.

He smiles, giving your bum a soft pat and pressing a kiss to your hairline, leaning down to whisper in your ear, “I lied, doll-face, the Honda Odyssey fucks, hard.”

©trumanbluee - reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated! but i do not wish for my work to be republished, translated, or copied. thanks!

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likeumeanit9497 · 1 month

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you jealous? | c.s. & m.s. |

chris sturniolo x reader x matt sturniolo

summary: y/n's secret fwb, chris, teaches her a lesson on sharing.

warnings: SMUTTTT; unprotected p in v; fingering; handjob; oral (f receiving); dirty talk; lowk toxic chris (srry); 2 boys 1 night ;); 18+

notes: hiiii guys!! sooooo i know i have been painfully inactive AGAIN over the past few weeks BUT I CAN EXPLAIN!!! so yes i got back from my trip at the start of aug, but i made a super stupid last minute decision to go back to college this fall, so i had to do all my applications, find a new place to live in a new city, AND move out of my old place all since i've been back. sooo i've been a bit busy hence why i haven't been able to write or post anything since the start of the month. BUT to make it up to u all i decided to write a fic for both the matt and chris girlies teehee. side note this is probably the closest i will ever get to a chris x matt x reader threesome okay i can't handle much more than this before it starts feeling weird af, BUT i hope u guys enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it (can u tell the duo streams are making it hard for me to pick one straight triplet to thirst over for the week?? hope someone relates) love u all and can't wait to write some more nasty shit <333

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

As I walked through the front door at the party, I really didn’t know what to expect. Sure, the flashing lights, loud rap music, and the sinus-burning waft of alcohol that flooded my senses as soon as I opened the door were a given, but there was so much uncertainty in my life that the night was feeling almost surreal.

“There she is!” I heard Nick’s bellowing voice through the sea of people as I walked up the front steps and entered the living room. Nick was my best friend, and had been since him and his brothers moved to Los Angeles, and he had decided to throw a ‘small’ party for me when I told him that I got a promotion at my job. Nervous to have so much attention on me at once, I smiled sheepishly as he ran over to me with a bottle of tequila in his hand.

After squeezing me so hard that I thought my ribs might break, he waved the half-empty bottle in my face. “You look sober. You can’t be sober at your own party! Let’s go take some shots.” By his rushed speech and disheveled appearance, I could tell that he had been drinking for a while prior to my arrival. And he was right, I was sober, and with the number of eyes on me and unrecognizable people circling me, I knew I had to gain some liquid courage quick.

“I thought you said this was just going to be a small get together Nick, what happened?” I asked quietly as we reached the kitchen. He grabbed us two shot glasses from the stack sitting on the counter, and rushed to the fridge to grab me a High Noon before pouring the tequila. “It’s LA, Y/n, this is a small get together. And besides,” He handed me an overflowing shot glass, “Everyone loves you. Now hurry up and cheers me.” Rolling my eyes, I obliged; lifting my glass in the air and clinking it gently against his before bringing it to my lips and tilting my head back.

The first shot is always the worst, and this one was no exception. I felt the burn as it traveled down my throat and into my stomach, and I winced before finally giving in and chasing with the High Noon that Nick had grabbed for me. “Wooo!” Shouted Nick before pouring more tequila into our glasses. “Hold on, what are you doing?” I tried to protest by covering the top of my shot glass with my hand. Without hesitation, Nick swatted my hand away. “You need another silly. Everyone here has been drinking for hours.” Grumbling under my breath, I let him pour another one, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the person I was most anxious to see would make an appearance.

As if he had sensed my nerves, it was just then, as I was bringing my second shot to my lips, that I saw him walking up the stairs leading to his bedroom. Squeezing my eyes shut, I hurriedly took my shot before chugging half of my drink at once in an attempt to calm my mind. I still had my drink at my lips when he noticed me; his droopy blue eyes scanning the room before they landed on mine. He smirked, soft pink lips curled up in a taunting manner, before waltzing over to where Nick and I were standing.

“Hey there.” He chirped, leaning against the counter just inches away from me. “Hey Chris.” I replied, keeping my tone as nonchalant as possible as I felt his gaze burn into me. “When did you get in?” He asked as I continued to avoid eye contact. I took a sip of my drink. “Just a few minutes ago.” There was a silence between the three of us; the awkwardness so intense that I felt like I could explode. “Okayyyy, I’m gonna go say hi to a few people.” Nick stated before quickly rushing off to the living room, leaving me alone with Chris.

“So,” Began Chris, “Long time no see.” I felt him take a step closer to me before running his hand lightly across the small of my back. Reacting to his touch, I inhaled a sharp breath and my eyes shot to his. “Very funny.” I responded, my voice a low whisper as if anyone could hear our conversation above the loud music and steady chatter in the room. He chuckled, still rubbing my back discreetly. “I thought so.”

It had actually been less than 24 hours since I had seen Chris. Just the night before, my wrists had been tied to his headboard while my legs were wrapped around his waist. A few weeks ago, after a night at the bar with Nick, Chris and I had had rushed, sloppy sex on their living room couch when Matt and Nick were asleep. Since then, him and I had fucked at least a dozen more times without telling a soul. I couldn’t bear the thought of my best friend finding out that I was sleeping with his brother, and Chris couldn’t stand the thought of anyone knowing anything about his personal life. Plus, there was something so sexy about our little secret; and I worried that if anyone found out about what we had been doing, the adrenaline that flooded my veins every time he looked at me with that knowing gaze, or touched me covertly, would disappear.

Over the past few weeks, there had been moments when our secret was almost revealed. Like the one time, when I was changing in Nick’s room, when he saw the dark blue hickeys all across my chest and stomach. Or another time, when I rolled up my sleeves to wash my hands in the kitchen and Matt asked me about the marks on my wrists. Both times, I froze; but both times I was able to come up with little white lies on the spot. I had made up a fictional man — one that lived in another city and they certainly didn’t know — that I had been seeing, and after sharing perhaps too many explicit details, they had both believed me.

Other than that, there had been no other times where people seemed to have any inclination of what Chris and I had been doing — most likely because we hadn’t been around others since we started hooking up. Tonight was the first time that we were going to be drinking with a big group of people, hence why I had been so anxious about how the night might go.

“You wanna go downstairs?” Chris’ voice in my ear pulled me from my thoughts, and I felt that familiar jump in my stomach from the thought of being alone with him right now. However, I was still sober enough to remember that we had to be careful, so I took a moment and glanced around the room. Everyone seemed pretty drunk, but the night was still young, and it was too risky yet. So, I shook my head softly. “We can’t yet, let’s wait for it to get later.” I was whispering just like he had been, and I felt his hand move from my lower back down to my ass, where he cupped it and gave it a generous squeeze. “Got it.” He replied, before snaking off and leaving me alone in our corner of the kitchen. Sighing, I reached for the bottle of tequila that Nick left behind; pouring myself yet another shot. Tonight was gonna be a long night.

𓆩♡𓆪

After a few more shots and a couple High Noons, I was drunk. Unfortunately, it had done nothing to ease my nerves, because I had spent the past hour or so watching Chris get progressively closer to another girl. As I leaned against the kitchen table attempting to keep up a conversation with Matt, I watched as he went from innocently chatting with her, to draping his arm across the back of the couch where she was sitting, to him now; pulling her onto his lap as he slipped his tongue into her mouth.

I tried to act as unbothered as possible, but it wasn’t easy. It’s not like I had any romantic feelings for Chris — him and I had both made it abundantly clear that it was just sex — but I couldn’t help but see red as I watched her run her hands through his messy curls as she rolled her hips on his lap. It was just that the sex that him and I were having was so good, I selfishly didn’t want anyone else to get it from him.

Groaning under my breath, I made an excuse and snuck away from Matt before walking to the fridge to grab one more drink. As I was rummaging through the fridge’s contents, I felt a warm hand brush against my bare leg. “You ready to sneak away now?” His words were hushed just like before, but I couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic laugh. “You can’t be serious.” I replied before closing the fridge and cracking open my drink. Now facing him, I noticed he had a confused expression across his face.

“What happened? Did that girl on the couch give you blue balls?” Even as I spoke, I recognized how stupid and bitter I sounded. A slight twinkle formed in Chris’ eyes, causing me to grow even more angry. “What are you talking about Y/n?” He asked, a small smile crossing his lips. I rolled my eyes, growing increasingly more angry. “The girl who’s tongue was just down your throat. What happened to her?” I asked, noticing how drunk I was sounding. Chris stared at me for a moment, before tilting his head slightly to the side. “You jealous?” He asked, and in that moment I wanted to smack him.

“Of course not,” I said, walking in the direction of Matt’s washroom in an attempt to escape this increasingly uncomfortable conversation, “But you’re crazy if you think you’re gonna come to me only when plan A fails.” Trying the door, I realized that the washroom was locked and I groaned. Chris had followed me down the hall, and now he had me cornered. Just as I was about to turn around and get past him back to the kitchen, he grabbed my arm and pulled me into Matt’s room.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed in a harsh whisper as my sense of sight was almost completely removed by the pitch-black darkness of the room. I heard the door slam shut behind me, but when I turned around, I could just barely see the outline of Chris’ frame standing just inches from me. Just then, I heard a low chuckle come from his direction. “I can’t believe my Y/n is jealous.” He said, taking a few more steps in my direction before grabbing my waist and pulling me towards him.

“You know that you’re my favourite girl baby,” He started, bringing a hand to my throat and squeezing gently. My head was tilted up, and in the poor lighting the only thing I could make out were his bright blue eyes reflecting my own nervous expression. “But you’ve gotta learn how to share.” Before I could even roll my eyes at his statement, I felt his warm thumb press against my lower lip; urging it open. With hitched breaths, I obliged; parting my lips and opening my mouth slightly.

With his hold on my neck, he tilted my head back even further and I felt, more than saw, his lips just centimetres from mine. Then, without warning, he spit a pool of his saliva into my mouth with expert precision, and at that moment all of my walls caved in. “Now be a good girl for me and get on Matt’s bed.”

With red hot arousal already coursing through me, I didn’t hesitate before rushing over to the unmade bed in the centre of the room. The sound of my racing heart in my ears and the rush of excitement that I was feeling was enough of a distraction from the fact that I was draping my body along a bed that didn’t belong to either Chris or I. The fact that almost anyone could walk in at any moment, and the view that I had once I faced Chris, was enough to cause my head to spin.

There, just in front of me, was a now-shirtless Chris. From my position on the bed, he was looming over me; and the smirk plastered to his face was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating. My needy eyes trailed slowly down his body, first his chest; down to his stomach; then his waistband — wait, what’s that shiny thing in his hand?

As if he heard my thoughts, Chris dangled the object teasingly, allowing me to realize what it was — the silver handcuffs from his room. “Were you just carrying those around all night?” I asked, locking my eyes back on his. He shrugged. “Didn’t know when I was finally gonna be able to use them.” I rolled my eyes, but as I opened my mouth to deliver a snarky reply, I was abruptly cut off by his lips on mine.

Hungry, drunk lips moulded to mine — they tasted like him. All of my annoyance with him dissolved within an instant as he wasted no time in peeling my clothing from my body; only breaking the kiss for a moment as he pulled my shirt over my head in the space between us. Immediately, his hands flew to my lower half where he simply lifted my skirt to give himself access to his favourite part of my body.

He squeezed my ass so hard that it hurt in that deliciously erotic way. Pulling me onto his lap, I felt his growing member press against my aching core as he continued to massage my ass like it was a life source that he had been deprived of for years. Low moans passed through his lips as he indulged, and I felt my body begin to tremble in painful anticipation. “Chris.” I whined before subtly grinding my core against the part of him that I needed most in that moment. I felt his lips turn up into a smile. “What’s wrong Y/n?” His voice was playful but rough from arousal, “I could’ve fucked you hours ago, remember? Then you wouldn’t be so painfully worked up.” I groaned again, not caring how desperate I felt as I dragged my soaked core up and down his clothed shaft for the second time.

Chris used his harsh grip on my ass to lift me off of him, causing me to release a frustrated sigh from the lack of contact. That quickly changed once he slid my panties to the side and used his fingers to gingerly graze my aching centre. I released a soft hiss as his fingers reached my swollen clit; hoping more than anything that he would spend extra time there. He chuckled at my noises, but any care I might have had over that dissipated as his fingers drew rapid circles on my bundle of nerves.

Tucking my head into the crook of his neck, I had to bite hard on his shoulder to keep myself from screaming out profanities from the immediate pleasure that I felt circulating in my body just from his touch. “You know, Y/n,” Chris began, his words coming out choppy from his quick movements, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that you were turned on watching me with that other girl.” I stayed silent, feeling tears well up in my eyes in the same way that my orgasm was welling up in my lower stomach. With all the strength I had, I managed to shake my head weakly in response to Chris’ words; causing him to chuckle.

“You might not think so, in your mind, but your pussy is telling me something different.” Just then, two of his long fingers slipped effortlessly inside of me. Unable to hold back now, I released a sharp scream into his bruised shoulder. His fingers began moving in and out of me slowly, curling right up to my g-spot each time. “Oh yeah,” His fingers began picking up speed; filling the room with the sounds of my arousal, “You hear that? You’re pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, it’s giving away your deep dark secrets.”

Moans now fell from my lips carelessly as his actions and words brought me closer and closer to an earth shattering orgasm. Maybe he was right, maybe there was a part of me that loved the thought of him being with another girl. Maybe I liked the idea of watching from the sidelines as he touched, kissed, or even fucked other girls.

Or maybe I just loved the idea that, no matter how many other girls he’s with, he will never find a better fuck than me.

That was the last thought I had before my mind was overtaken by the tidal wave of my orgasm. Arching my back in pleasure, I moaned out profanities as Chris’ fingers worked my pulsing core. I felt my legs shake as the relentless euphoria tore through my body, until Chris quickly removed his fingers from my core, lifted me up off of his lap, and bent me over the side of the bed all in one motion.

The cool air against my soaked and exposed core caused me to gasp, but still I waited exactly where he placed me with trembling limbs as I anticipated his next move. The sharp sound of a zipper filled the dark room, and after a moment I felt the heat from Chris’ member press against my wetness. Immediately and without thinking, I began rolling my hips in a weak attempt at relieving the unyielding want deep inside of me, but a firm hand on my hip promptly stopped all movements. “Wait one minute, Y/n.” Chris said, and I heard the sound of metal clanking together before the ice cold handcuffs were placed around my wrists.

I felt my stomach do a flip just like it always did when Chris tied me up in any way that he could, and once he was content with their placement, he gripped both of my wrists in one of his hands as he used his other to line his shaft up with my opening. I felt his tip slide up and down my slick folds a handful of times, causing an anticipatory shiver to crawl up my spine, before the indescribable satisfaction of feeling his length stretch my walls caused me to sigh in relief. That satisfaction was quickly replaced by gritty need as Chris began slamming his cock deep into me at a relentless pace. His hand tightened around my wrist as he gained momentum, causing the harsh metal of the handcuffs to dig into my skin; increasing the pleasure that I was feeling.

The room was filled with the sounds of my ass slapping against his front, and I knew even without him saying anything that the view he had was driving him crazy. Just as expected, his hand dropped a sharp smack to my left ass cheek before gripping onto it ruthlessly. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me baby.” Chris’ voice was already deep and guttural, and I could tell that he wasn’t gonna last very long. Moaning in response, I bit onto the comforter beneath me to muffle the sound as I relished in the feeling of his cock hitting just the right spot on each harsh thrust.

“This is what you needed, huh? I knew by your attitude you were dyin’ for it.” His filthy talk was enough to send me another strong wave of vertigo, and I felt my restrained hands desperately try to grab onto him in any way so that I could stabilize myself. “You know this cock is yours,” Chris continued, both his movements and his voice now growing choppier, “But just because something is yours doesn’t mean you can’t share.” I felt my body begin to tense up, goosebumps raised on my skin as I felt my pleasure begin to boil over.

“Fuck, gonna cum baby.” Chris’ words were rushed, and as he spoke them he quickly pulled his swollen length out of my wincing core. After a few pumps in his hand, I felt his warm fluid shoot onto my back and collect in a small pool. As he came down from his high, I heard small grunts leave his mouth and I wanted nothing more than to use my own restrained hands to milk him dry. After a few moments of silence, both of us simply catching our breaths, Chris spoke. “Sorry, Y/n, I didn’t expect to cum so fast.” He massaged my ass with his hands as he spoke.

“It’s okay.” I replied, though the screaming need in between my legs was saying otherwise. “Get up on the bed and arch that back, I’ll get you there.” His words caused my body to quiver once again. Just as I was about to do as he told me, the shocking sound of a door opening caused me to freeze in place like a deer in headlights.

“Chris who the fuck are you talking to in my ro-”

The familiar voice filled the room and deafening silence immediately followed. Chris’ hands were still on my waist, and I felt my skin grow hot in embarrassment. In the heat of everything that had happened over the past little while, I had forgotten who’s room we were in. But now, that person’s voice pulled me back to reality, and I was reminded of the fact that my naked body had been pressed against his bed as I was fucked senseless by his brother.

Still, no one was speaking. My face was buried in the comforter, where I planned on keeping it in order to avoid facing the situation I found myself in. The silence felt like a fifty pound weight pressing against my bare back, and I prayed to the universe that someone was going to speak. Just then, I felt Chris shift behind me; placing a hand on the back of my neck and leaning towards my ear.

“I know how to share what’s mine. Watch this.”

His words sent chills down my spine, and that chill was exemplified once I felt the heat of his body move away from me. Through the pounding anxiety in my head, I was able to hear a few footsteps followed by an entire conversation performed in well-executed whispers. Chris and Matt spoke in hushed tones for what felt like hours as I continued to stay in the place that Chris had left me; my heart racing and breath heaving at the thought of what they might be talking about. Chris’ last statement was ominous, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher what he meant: he wanted to share me with Matt.

As they spoke to one another, I went over the idea of it in my head. It was wrong, for sure. I was already fucking one of my best friends’ brothers, but to fuck both of them in one night was too far. Plus, I had never had any interest in Matt before. Him and I were friends, sure, but not once had I considered doing anything more with him. Because I was already fucking his brother, and his other brother is my best friend. It was wrong, end of story.

But then why did I feel a new trickle of my own arousal fall down my leg at the thought of Matt’s eyes glued to my naked body right now?

I’m fucked.

“You okay, Y/n?” I heard Chris’ voice and it pulled me out of my trance. I knew what he meant by that. “Yes.” I replied, wincing at the desperation laced through my tone. A chuckle came in response, then the sound of the door opening — bringing with it bright lights and an increase in clarity of the constant party chatter — before it clicked shut; and then, silence.

I could hear nothing around me but my own heavy breathing, and if I didn’t know any better I would genuinely believe that I was alone in the room at last. But I did know better, because I could feel his tired blue eyes on my body. I still hadn’t moved, couldn’t move. My face was still buried deep in his comforter and I was too afraid to face him yet. My legs felt like jello, and I knew that if I wasn’t already bent over his bed, I would have collapsed by now.

Finally, I hear footsteps. They were slow, and I couldn’t tell which direction they were going, but he was finally moving. Next I heard the shuffling sound of some sort of fabric, then more footsteps. This time, I was sure they were heading for me. I was proven right when I felt the heat of his body behind me. Suddenly, I released a sharp gasp when I felt the soft material of a towel against my lower back. Matt wiped the pool of his brother’s cum off of my lower back in silence, and even the accidental brush of his knuckles against my clammy skin set me on fire.

“So, this was what those marks on your wrists were from.” He finally spoke, and his voice in this setting was so unfamiliar that I physically jumped. In my silence, he assumed I didn’t understand what he meant, so I felt him tap lightly on the metal around my wrists. “The handcuffs.” He clarified even further. “Uh,” I cleared my throat, trying to sound confident, “Yeah.” At that, I felt his hands travel around the perimeter of the cuffs, trying to find something, when suddenly I heard a faint click and my wrists were free.

Taking the cuffs completely off of me, he rubbed my aching wrists gently with both hands. Even this touch, one seemingly so innocent and caring, shot waves of pleasure to my core. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” His words grounded me for just a moment; reminding me that this is in fact real life, yet still I responded with zero hesitation. “I’m sure.”

Again, silence. But this time, it was accompanied by the remarkable feeling of Matt’s gentle fingers trailing down my spine, leaving goosebumps in their trail. “Turn around for me.” His voice had dropped an octave since he last spoke, and while it was still far from threatening, it was no longer the comforting tone he had used as he took my cuffs off.

The shame I had previously felt from the situation had been stripped off of me by his touch, so I barely hesitated before lifting my head off of the bed and turning my body so that I was now facing him. In the dark, the outline of his body looked nearly identical to his brother, but I was able to easily tell the difference. My body didn’t react in excited fear when I saw his frame, but instead it responded in anticipatory comfort; as if I knew I had nothing to be nervous about.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of his bed, I watched his chest rise and fall in silence for a moment. Unable to really see his eyes, I was unsure what he was looking at, but I knew he was looking at me. Just then, I watched as he climbed onto his bed, meeting me where I was. He leaned so close to me that I had to allow my head to fall back against the comforter. Now laying on top of me, using one arm to brace his weight, I suddenly felt the lust seeping out of his veins just before his lips attached to mine.

His lips were slightly softer, and slightly fuller than Chris’, and they moved with just the slightest bit more apprehension for a moment. That quickly dissipated, however, as after just a few short moments I felt his tongue run against my lower lip; begging for access to my mouth. I obliged, and relished in the new and exciting taste of him. His lips were cold — the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his skin told me that was because he had just been outside — and they felt amazing against my own hot, swollen lips. As I felt one of his hands snake up to my chest, I released a soft moan. My pleasure began to double, and then triple, when I felt him squeeze my tit and run a thumb along my hardened nipple before doing the exact same to the other one.

Having complete access to my hands for the first time in what felt like forever, I used that to my advantage and began exploring Matt’s body. His frame was slightly thinner than Chris’, and I relished in the feeling of a raised, fresh tattoo against my fingers as I traveled down his arm. Reaching his waist, I grazed my hand against his clothed member; already painfully hard and pressing against his jeans. As I palmed it a few times, Matt released a soft moan in my ear before moving his mouth down to my left tit; swirling his slippery tongue against my nipple and causing me to shutter in pleasure. After taking his time with the left, he moved his mouth to the right. While Chris’ favourite part of my body is my ass, clearly Matt has found his own personal favourite.

While the feeling of his mouth on my tit was already causing my head to spin, I desperately needed more. I fumbled with the button and zipper on his jeans, before slowly pulling them down his legs and hopefully granting his member some relief. With his mouth still on my tit, Matt helped me by pulling them down the rest of the way, along with his boxers. Once his boxers were off and his cock was able to spring free, I immediately grabbed it in my hand and began pumping up and down. Another soft groan left his lips, and the vibration from it against my sensitive nipples caused me to moan in reply.

As I pumped his member in my hand, I felt his own hand trail down my body before finally landing on the place where I needed it the most. As if he knew my body by heart, Matt found my clit in seconds and wasted no time before rubbing it at the same pace that I was jerking him off at. His mouth detached from my tit and found mine, but in our world of equal pleasure the kiss was sloppy; our mouths fell open at times and tongues swiped in and out mindlessly.

“Y-you feel good?” Asked Matt, his voice soft and choppy at the same time. Nodding my head, I widened my legs with the desperation of needing more. “Want to feel all of y-you Matt.” I whispered, opening my eyes and finally meeting his. In the dim light, they were glossed over. His pupils were so dilated that, if I didn’t know him before, I would have assumed his eyes were brown. He blinked at me for a quick moment, but didn’t make me wait long before positioning himself in between my legs.

I watched in awe as his body hovered over mine. I flinched slightly as he lined his member up to my opening; my core still slightly sore from a few minutes ago. Noticing, Matt looks back up at me. “I’ll go slow, okay?” Nodding, I drop my jaw as Matt sinks into me, keeping true to his word but still bottoming out. I felt every inch of him stretch me out, and as he stayed still to allow me a moment to adjust to him, I couldn’t help but release a frustrated moan. As if he has been in tune with my needs for years, Matt takes this simple remark for what it means, and slowly began thrusting into me.

Although his pace is slow, his shaft pleasures what seems like every nerve inside of me before finally reaching my spongey g-spot with a quick snap on each thrust. His movements are so pleasurable it’s almost excruciating, and I struggle to keep the moans from falling helplessly from my mouth. What’s more, is that even with my eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, I can feel his eyes on my face, taking in every expression and hushed sound that I make. “You want more?” He asks, his voice in a strained whisper. I shake my head. “N-no. Keep going just like that, please.” I reply, and I release a breathy moan when I feel him wrap my legs around his waist before continuing in the same unbeatable rhythm.

I run my hands through his dark brown hair, before allowing them to rest on the nape of his neck. I relished in the feeling of his back muscles tensing on each meticulously controlled thrust, before pulling his head down so that I could kiss him. Normally, I’m not someone who cares much about kissing during sex, but there was something about the deprivation and tenderness of his soft kiss that seemed to bring me even closer to an orgasm than his cock did. As he kissed me, his pace never wavered, but I could tell by the soft grunts falling from his lips that he was getting close.

As if reading my mind, he suddenly pulled out of me and I felt him shift on the bed. Thinking that he was about to cum on my stomach and that I was going to once again be deprived of an orgasm, I felt embarrassing tears well up in my eyes. However, I was pleasantly surprised by the sudden feeling of his tongue twirling skillfully against my clit. My hands immediately flew to his hair, and I was no longer capable of holding back the moans that fell from my lips. As he continued eating my pussy, he slid two fingers into my core and began pumping them the exact same way he pumped his cock into me just moments before.

In that moment, I was in total euphoria. I was sure that my knuckles were turning white from the death grip that I had on Matt’s hair, just as I was sure that if anyone was on the other side of the bedroom door — or, in the bathroom for that matter — they would definitely hear the filth that was falling from my mouth. But I had lost the ability to care, because all of my thoughts were highjacked by the unutterable levels of pleasure that were surging through my body in that moment.

And what made everything that much more intense, was the fact that Matt so clearly loved what he was doing to me. Every few seconds, I felt a deep moan fall from his mouth and vibrate off of my bundle of nerves, and in the off chance that I had my eyes open, watching him, I noticed him grinding his hips against his bed to gain some sort of relief. “I-I — oh fuck! — Matt, I’m c-close!” I exclaimed, feeling the waves of my orgasm rise threateningly close to the surface.

At my proclamation, Matt moved in one swift motion and slid his cock back into me. His pace was the same as it was before, but this time his thumb found my swollen clit and he began rubbing it quickly. “Gonna cum too. Where do you want me?” My legs were back around his waist, and my fingers were digging into his shoulder blades as I struggled to gather my thoughts. “Anywhere you want Matt!” My words breathless and exclamatory, I was barely able to get them out before an indescribable orgasm tore through my body.

I might have truly screamed out in pleasure, and dug my nails into Matt’s skin so far that he bled, but I have no way of knowing for sure — I had lost all of my senses through the overwhelming waves of pleasure. All I remember is feeling as if the pressure that had been building up inside of me for so long had been too much, and my brain had exploded. For what could have been minutes or hours — but which was probably only a few seconds — I truly thought that I might have died. But then, suddenly, I was back in my body, and it was convulsing uncontrollably through a life altering orgasm.

When I came back to my senses, Matt had his damp forehead resting against mine. His body had stilled above me, but I could feel his member twitching inside of me; painting my walls in his signature shade of white. Both of our breathing was ragged as if we had both just completed a marathon, and we both stayed still, in complete silence, as we came down from our highs.

After a few moments, Matt placed a soft kiss to my forehead before slowly removing himself from my centre. I watched him walk over to where he had discarded the towel, picking it up and bringing it over to me to help me clean myself up. So far neither of us had spoken, but I didn’t care very much as my mind was still not fully connected to my body. Finally, he spoke. “You still feel okay about this?” He asked as he began putting his clothes on. I smiled, almost laughing at the absurdity of the caution in his words. “I feel more than okay Matt.” I replied, to which he released a small laugh before handing me my shirt.

Once I was dressed, I managed to get myself to my feet. Standing at the edge of the bed, I suddenly felt nervous about walking back out into the party after being gone for so long. As if he read my mind once again, Matt walked to the door first. “I’ll head out first, then you can come out in a few minutes.” I laughed nervously but nodded. “Sounds good. See you out there.” I watched as his hand reached for the door knob before turning back to the bed to find my phone.

“Oh and Y/n?” I faced him again, “Chris might be good at sharing, but I’m not.”

His words made my already unsteady knees wobbly, and I dropped back onto the bed once he closed the bedroom door behind him. All at once, every moment of the night hit me like a freight train, and I finally realized what happened. I fucked Matt. Just a few hours ago, I was pretending to have a normal conversation with him as I was green with envy watching Chris make out with that girl. I had never planned on doing anything even close to what I had done with him, yet here I am, sitting on his bed. I close my eyes. I can still feel him inside of me. He was so good. But Chris was also sogood. Both of my best friends’ triplet brothers. How did I get here?

I’m fucked.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

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