#sitting upright that long? fucked up for days

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

Just want to remind everyone that according to the EC the first time Neil is reduced to full on barely consolable tears and sobs in front of Andrew will be when he gets the phone call saying that Coach Wymack dies.

That's how much Dadmack means to Neil.

When Bee has a health scare, Andrew rushes to her side and los3s his shit at her to take care of her health.

From the EC

DOES NEIL EVER CRY?

Q: Does Neil ever cry? Be it alone or in front of Andrew or possibly Wymack?

A: If you mean for a reason other than the torture Lola & Riko put him through, then yes:

He cries when they get the call: he’s gone, he’s gone, Coach is gone

It’s almost safer to say “ten times out of ten”. Comfort isn’t in Andrew’s vocabulary and as far as he’s considered it’s a waste of time and energy. He’s more likely to walk away or tell Neil to get over it or look right past whatever existential/psychological crisis Neil is having. Neil’s grumpiness after a loss are brushed aside unimportant, and his aggravation over uncooperative teammates is nothing to pity him for.

But once in a long while Neil will hit a ledge he has to be pulled back from, and that’s what Andrew does. Like in Baltimore, when Neil is trying to say Do you want me to go, and Andrew catches hold and tells him Stay. This is how Andrew comforts: by being a stabilizing force, an anchor to keep Neil at home, a place to rest his weight and his secrets. Honestly, that’s what Neil needs.

But if you would really like a moment of genuine “comfort”, Andrew-style, then it would be the day Neil gets the call that Wymack is dead. It is the first time Andrew sees Neil cry, and he does not know what to do with this heartbroken grief. So he sits with Neil instead, back-to-back, with a cigarette burning in his hand ((because he has lived with Neil’s cigarette-smoke obsession for far too many years)). He says nothing, but he is a weight and a presence to keep Neil upright.

Bee also has the dubious honor of being the only person Andrew ever yells at.

The year after the events of The Raven King she has what looks like a heart attack at Reddin. Doctors have to give her stints to open up the blockages in her arteries, and Andrew spends the day sitting silent and still at her bedside. This isn’t something he can fight off for her; this isn’t something he can protect her from. It’s a lesson in helplessness he wasn’t expecting and never wanted. When Bee wakes up from the procedure and Neil asks her how she’s doing she dopily says she is fine. Mistake.

“You are not fine and this is not fine and if you ever eat another fucking piece of chocolate again so long as you live I will fucking kill you.”

Needless to say he ransacks both her office and her home and confiscates every scrap of junk food he can get his hands on. He also enlists Abby to write out a food and exercise regimen for Bee. Andrew accompanies Bee to the gym now and then, and he lets her sign him up for a 5K fun run with her."

Mama Bee and Andrew

Dadmack and Neil

[mejomonster]

You ever confronted by how much fear is holding you back on even little daily things? ;-;

[dangerpronebuddie]

.

[tonycries]

Madam Zenin - T.F.

Synopsis. There’s nothing that rouses Toji, the infamous head of the Zenin clan, nothing that will make him lose control - until they take what’s most important to him. You.

Pairing. Toji Fushiguro x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, arranged marriage, clan leader! Toji, kídnapping, the elders súck, Toji goes INSANE, BRÉEDING, talks of an heir, oraI (fem), fíngering, Toji’s powers, FÉRAL Toji, créampie, spítting, overstím, AU if Toji didn’t leave the clan, slight misogyny from Naoya, slight bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.2k

A/N. Didn’t realize how much clan leader!Toji made me quake so…Hope y’all have a good day <3

“Who took her?”

“M-master?”

There wasn’t a single individual in the Zenin Estate that didn’t think Toji Zenin wouldn’t kill them in the blink of an eye. Happily, at that. 

It was rumored he was cursed, ruthless. And out of everyone - elders, servants, children - not one didn’t look over their shoulder behind every corner of the sprawling Zenin house, flinching at his mere shadow. Broad, towering, wrenching out nothing but hushed apologies and deep bows - they never dared to look into his devastating eyes. 

And right now, that pale-faced attendant of yours could only tremble - pray - she won’t be next on Toji’s long, long list of victims when the looming man himself bends to meet her lowered gaze. And oh-

Fuck. 

No one ever saw the vicious head of the Zenin clan smile - no one. 

Except you.

And here he had the most dangerous grin gracing his features, darkened olive eyes wide - crazed, when they halt on that slightest drop of red sinking into the tatami mats.

“My wife.” The other woman jumps when he loudly kicks your chamber door open. Abruptly barking out a deep, humorless laugh at the disheveled emptiness inside, “Who took my wife?”

---

Young master Zenin - Toji Zenin. Your husband.

It’s only been a few months since your stiff, lavish wedding ceremony to him - part of an arranged deal made between his clan and your own. Your parents practically leapt at the chance to marry into such an esteemed jujutsu name, forgetting all those dark rumors swirling around the young head at the first golden glint of the Zenin family’s massive treasury.  

Sure, they promised to treat you well, to prime you into becoming the new madam of their distinguished household. But you knew better - it wasn’t your upbringing or your cursed technique that brought you here, they couldn’t care less - no, it was because of an heir. 

The one thing that the Zenin family didn’t have. 

And the one thing Toji Zenin refused to give them.

That much was obvious when just minutes after exchanging vows and the ceremonial sake, a group of todgering elders had thrust a heady antidote for conception into your hands, smiling smugly as if they’d just given you the wedding gift of the century. Of course, your all-new husband didn’t even look at you properly on your wedding night - opting instead for a short, husky goodnight and to sleep in a separate bedroom down the hall from the newly-weds’ chamber. 

He wasn’t a cruel husband, you think, and he was attractive - painfully so - and felt more like a gruff acquaintance than anything. But the only problem was that he didn’t embrace you, not even a fleeting kiss.

Even when you really wanted Toji to.

“-T-Toji?” you’re breathing shallowly, eyes blinking up hazily at the dim lighting. It comes out small, cracking so pathetically at the end.

“---Toji--even----”

“No use--- had--months---”

“---keep her to myself--”

Instantly, you’re sitting upright in a cold, wooden chair. Heart thumping wildly against the ribs of your body, it bangs at the thickly digging rope wrapping around your body.

Shit shit shit - where were you? The last thing you remembered was chatting with your attendant in your room, and she’d handed you a brand-new perfume to smell- Fuck. Where was-

“Ah, you’re awake.” There’s a high, sing-song voice from somewhere on your right, and your blood runs chillingly cold when you recognize that voice. “Honestly, I hoped you wouldn’t be around for this part but-” Naoya Zenin claps his hands to get the attention of every other elder hunched around the traditional Japanese room. “-that just makes it all the more fun, right?”

With the one tiny lantern being lit overhead, you could make out those scraggly smiles, the sharp glint of the Zenin Clan’s famed katanas. A tear stumbles down your trembling cheek, tasting salty on your lips.

“Aww, not the tears.” Naoya guffaws, “You know m’not good with the tears.” Those ropes pinning your hands behind your back rub raw with your frantic movement, creaking and unstirring despite your best efforts. “Try and try all you want, sweetcheeks, but a failure of the Zenin clan will only be met with the appropriate consequences.”

A failure.

The words would’ve cut deep had they not been the very same ones spat at you at every clan meeting - the exact reason you didn’t accompany Toji to the one today. Toji, you think. Fuck, how you wished you’d have gone just this one time. 

Straightening your spine the best you could in this binding chair, you ask - firm, pretending for all the world to be as confident as you’re not. “What do you want from me?”

It’s as if your question is the biggest joke that every scowling man in this room had heard, and they all burst into wheezing, riotous laughter. Some even slapping their knees - even Naoya gives you a cold, leeringly gleeful grin, “Just as mouthy as he is, huh?” He turns back to the elders, “She’s asking what we want!”

You bristle at another bout of cackles, struggling to hiss out a strangled, “Well- well if you bastards just fucking told me-”

“An heir.” 

Fuck, you had a feeling it was this.

“What? You pussies get your rocks off by wondering about mine and Toji’s sex life?” you let out shrill laughter, mouth moving before your brain because fuck, if it was all going to end now, might as well spew out everything you’ve wanted to since you walked in here. You shake your woozy head, “Oh fuckin’ grow up, if the man himself wanted an heir then you’d know-”

Eyes enraged, he takes a heated step towards you, “You little-”

“Naoya.” The strained drawl of an elder you’d seen around the corridors stops him straight in his tracks, and Naoya gives the man a hasty, reluctant bow. “Finish it. Before he gets back.”

Those last few words splatter a few drops of panic into your words, and a few more exhausted tears stream down your face. 

“Heh, whatever.” he’s taking one last greedy lookover down your rattling figure. “Would’ve taken y’for myself if I didn’t think he’d kill me, sweetcheeks. What a shame.” Trailing off airily, he turns back towards where you spot another spiking glisten in the dark, a metallic twang! rings through the thick, musty atmosphere. “Who knows, maybe his next wife will actually listen to a thing or two.”

Next wife. 

You’re not sure why but the thought made your heart clench. And you’re gasping when he turns back around - silver katana in hand - trying to scream, yell, anything for help. But no sound comes out. 

Instead, all you can do is gape when Naoya crowds in menacingly closer, you can just hear the smile in his voice when he coos mockingly, “You’re much better when you shut up, doll.” You press your lips tightly together at the same, sullied use of Toji’s nickname for you - wondering how he would react to all of this. Wincing at the cutting whoosh! of the katana being raised up, up, up- “Any last wo-”

BANG!

You’re grimacing at the loud crashing of wood and panels, sliding doors ripped to shreds. And in the hazy cloud of dust you could make out the outline of a tall, heaving figure. Big arms swaying with his choppy breaths, he’s standing still - dangerous.

And even in the soft darkness, your unblinking gaze caught on his gleaming, feral smile, sharp canines bared like some beast. Eyes carnivorous, widened as he assesses the room like a predator lurking in on its prey.

The drop of fear hits you before the realization - Toji.

Letting out a strangled yelp, “T-Toj- mmpf!” Before cold, wrinkly fingers come up from behind to cover your mouth. But even the slightest sound of your voice has Toji’s form jolting - fingers twitching on the handle of his blade, like electricity zapped through his entire body, and you can hear the elder behind you take in an obvious gasp when his eyes lock onto the two of you. 

Finally. 

Toji’s lips part silently, and abruptly, you’re being let go of as if you burned. “You.” 

It happens so fast that you’re not even sure you imagined it, in a split-second, the long, jagged dagger in Toji’s hand is being flung right at his shivering target. . 

And you knew he won’t miss - he never will, because you’re not even blinking when a drawn-out groan of pain echoes from behind you. Followed by an echoing thud!

“My wife.” Toji’s rasping baritone sends goosebumps racing down your spine, you’re puffing in a quick inhale at just how close he sounds. Sure enough, when you look up, you’re met with softened sage eyes, and crooked beginnings of a smile. “My wife.” he breathes out, as if he still couldn’t really believe it. But any and all tenderness in his body bleeds away when Toji abruptly looks over his shoulder at the men crowding around the entrance with a thunderous glare, “Next.”

Naoya is the first to dare to speak - to even move. Yelling, “Y-y- do you even know who that- the crime it is to kill one of the elders-”

Fuck, you swear Toji looked elated at that, that savage grin still plastered on his face, he grits through clenched teeth, “Next.” 

Next. Next. Next. Next. 

It’s all that kept being laughed - laughed - out when Naoya activated his own cursed technique, absolutely nothing against Toji’s rampant ravaging. The thrum of jujutsu makes your head throb, and Toji’s steps sound deafening. Pressurized lunges towards the man himself, and before he can think - before he can even breathe - Naoya’s being pinned face-down on the tatami floor. Face stinging with the force of the stronger man’s foot on his head, pressing it underneath his wooden sandals. He speaks softly - as if talking down to a child - over the strained pop! pop! pop! of joints. “For taking my wife, for insulting the very soul of my soul.”

Toji wasn’t done, he wasn’t even stopping. He was out of control. Ready to kill. To break. 

And none of the elders could do anything - in fact, they fall fatally still onto their knees at Toji’s growing smile, the slow turn of his head. All knowing they were on the very brink of death himself. “Who’s next?”

Fatigue and relief hits you like a semi-truck - five of them, in fact. And you can feel your body drooping lower, vision tinging with black at the corners. Over the grotesque crunching of limbs, you think you could hear a faint, gruff laughter of, “Yeah, ya might wanna sleep this one out, doll.”

---

Toji never wanted to let you out of his sight. Never. 

And with you so vulnerable like this - dozing off gently on his silken bedsheets, body curling subconsciously into his benevolent hold - he thinks he never will.

Mellow, rounded tips of his thick fingers glide down your skin, sensitive from the hot water and the way he’d washed away every evidence of the blood and pain from just a few hours before. 

“I’m sorry.” Toji breathes, hushed, a thumb gliding away a stray droplet of water on the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” He connects his forehead with your damp one, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t come to see you early from the meeting- just knew something felt wrong.”

“Sorry for what, Toji?”

Your teasing tone of voice shocks him to his very core, and yet he can’t find it in himself to pull away - fuck, he can’t even dare open his eyes to look. “All of it.” he’s spitting out, tormentingly.

It takes you a while to find the words, “It’s- it’s not your fault.” you nod, a wet hand coming up to comb through Toji’s soft black tresses. “It’s neither of ours.”

There’s a few seconds of silence, in which he’s scrubbing non-existent beads of water off of you. Long strokes - slow, and purposeful - and you have to hold back your sudden yelp when it hits you that this was the first time that he saw you naked.

“But-” he falters, shaking his head - before thinking better of it. And you take the moment to appreciate just how gorgeous he is up close, every spike of pink in his worried lips, dark lashes kissing his high cheekbones. “But it’s over now, you can- you can go back to your clan.” he grimaces, still looking like he wanted to rip something - someone - apart. “The Zenin family is done.”

Done. 

“Toji.” you exhale, luring in your face so close to your husband’s. Too close. “Come with me. Fuck this Estate, fuck having an heir- and fuck the elders, if they’re not dead by now anyway.” They were - every single one - bodies piled high in the same room you were carried tenderly out of, you find out later. You steady onto your elbows on that unfamiliar mattress - Toji’s, you distinctly realize. And his brows crinkle upwards into an expression you’ve never seen on him before.

“I…”

“And-” A hand of yours wraps around his throat, nails digging into the racing pulse of his at the side of his milky neck. “-kiss me.”

Then he’s raising his eyes to look at you and fuck-

You were fucked. 

You might as well have just signed away your own will because here was the man that was covered in blood not too long ago, here he was with his lids hooded, pupils blown. “My wife.” he repeats that same mantra from before, lips parting like something so dark, visceral, was poked dangerously awake. Like he couldn’t quite believe it. His eyes flicker in a lingering triangle across both of your eyes, your lips. Just a hair’s breadth away. Straining out a raspy, “Oh fuck.”

Depraved - Toji’s lips are so depraved . And he’s drinking you in like all his bloodthirst from before had liquidated into pure need. 

You’re mewling when a large palm brushes over to cup your cheek, tilting that pretty head of yours to deepen the kiss. “Toji.”

You shouldn’t have done that - oh, you shouldn’t have done that. Because the sound of his own name in your syrupy sweet tone makes him jolt. Jolt. His entire body rumbles with a deep, wrenched-out growl, followed very closely by a loud slam! of Toji’s fist banging down on the nearby bedside table. Only later will you find that perfectly indented hole in the shape of his hand, splinters scattered across the floor. 

Like wanted to keep in control - needed to keep in control. But was failing - miserably. 

“F-fuuuuck-” he draws out huskily into your mouth, that tiny scar always at the corner of his mouth catching on your lower lip when he takes it between his. Sucking on that slick-glossed seam harshly, it almost hurt - but it hurt so good. “You have no idea- absolutely no fuckin’ idea how much I’ve wanted to do this.”

And suddenly you’re so painfully aware of the way your robe hadn’t been tied up properly, feeling the cinch of your sensitive nipples against his rich yukata, the warmth of all five of his long fingers splaying out just below the curve of your tits. 

You can feel his needy hips rutting into yours - such raw strength in the way he holds your own still so easily. Pushing right into the bullseye between your legs with the outline of his massive, heated bulge. Languid, delicious drags.

“Fuck we shouldn’t-” he cries out when you’re reeling him back in with his plump lip tucked beneath your teeth. “You need to-” Before he’s being tugged back in again. And again. And again and again like one taste of your candied lips and he was addicted. Barely able to choke out a single syllable before mashing them back onto yours. Gruffing out a deep rumble from the depths of his sculpted chest, “Shit- y’know why I didn’t do this sooner? Why I didn’t just fuck you right then and there in front of hngh- everyone whenever I wanted to? Because I knew-”

He cuts himself off with a convulsing shudder, pulling away just enough that you whine disappointedly. “I was gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

“Couldn’t- hngh-” you’re mewling at the delicate little strings of syrupy spit snapping. Spying down at the way his yukata was disheveled now, displaying such delicious panes of warm skin for you. “Couldn’t have guessed.”

Toji’s brows raise at your slightly bratty tone, lips curling into such a sinful smirk that it makes your cunt throb so hotly, despite the slowly cooling water. His eyes darken - as if something snapped. “Oh- you’re gonna fucking regret that, ma.”

And something did -  maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this.

In an instant, you’re seeing a flash of that man- that monster from before. Baring you the most vicious grin inhumanly possible, if you didn’t know any better you’d have wondered how high the death count would be. The hundreds? The thousands?

He’s worshiping down your body like an apology for all that transpired before, hot, wet brandings of his mouth across each and every inch of skin he could reach. It made you whimper, it made you feel the powerful hum of his strength at his fingertips, it made you need more more more-

All you can let out is a drawling moan when he unapologetically snaps! the hem of your panties onto your heated skin, “Don’t be such a t-tease.”

Oh, you were so weak against the dark head of the Zenin clan, against the way he circles his two hands around your ankles. Easily pulling - hauling you across the plush mattress like some ragdoll. 

Not even hesitating before ripping your poor yukata off your body, until you’re left spread so shamefully underneath him, Toji knocking down hard onto his knees before you. 

“Well- whatever my wife wants…” the same dangerous grin grows along his face, glinting white teeth bared where they held your flimsy excuse of panties between honed canines. He murmurs the final few words hovering over where you needed him the most,  “...no elder or god themself could stop me from giving you.” 

RIP—! 

It’s the last thing breathed out of his heaving lungs before your poor underwear is being torn off of you by his very mouth, not wasting a moment before spitting them out, and burying his face between your trembly thighs. Not even taking in one last gulp of air, not even thinking because all Toji Zenin knew was that he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste your sweet sweet cunt right now. 

“Oh f-fuck-” he’s musing, sharp tongue stuttering for once in his life. “Fuck fuck fuck- fuck-” You’re yelping when your jelly-like legs are pliantly thrown over Toji’s broad shoulders, digging into the muscles of his deltoids. “Can’t believe you’ve been-” He trails off so deliriously, planting a hot, thick glob of spit on your spread pussy lips once. Twice. Smearing that glistening coat along your puffy folds with the fat of his thumb, “-been holdin’ out on me like this.”

“Shit- s’too much.” you’re whining at the slippery gloss of the mess he’s made down below leaking down your slit. Threading your fingers through his silky locks, “I wasn’t holding out on anything, y’know-”

His wide-eyed gaze was locked on your sloppily winking hole, circling the rim of that needy ring of muscle with his pointed index. “God…” his hot breath fans your dripping cunt, “You might just be my god. Didn’t wanna bring a kid into this family but you’re so- so sweet m’thinking it might not be too bad.”

Those words are barely even registered in your mind before his pretty pink lips wrap themselves around your throbbing clit. Handsome cheekbones hollowing, droopy eyes rolling to the back of his head when Toji sucks. Whirling his tongue erratically around the sensitive nub, such lewd little squelches ring in your ears. 

“T-Toji—” your purring moans only make him bury his face even deeper, nose pressing up against the edge of your sopping slit. And each thorough drag of your slobbering cunt down his face makes you knock against the end of his chin, so thirsty with the way he was making out with your cunt. Like he couldn’t get enough - never will. “Y-you were the one-” the heels of your feet move up higher to loop at his neck. “-holding out.”

And you knew that Toji the strongest of his clan - you knew it took more than a mere, barely-lucid tug to have him clashing even deeper into your pussy. 

But he does for you anyway. 

“Fuck- fuck you little-” Toji’s own heavy tongue betrays him with a throaty moan, and he looks so furious. Seething at the way he was pussydrunk already. Greedy gaze so crazed that you’re back to wondering how high the kill count would be- would they all even fit on the Zenin Estate? “-f tha’s what you fuckin’ want.”

“Wha- oh!” you yelp at the sheer burning stretch of your legs being pushed up, up, up until your knees were knocking against your tits. And Toji takes the shamefully spread opportunity to bully one rummaging finger past your swollen folds. “Oh fuck- you’re reaching so- so-”

“Finish it.”

It takes you a second to realize that Toji’s addressing you, his tone so jagged. Words muffled when he pants them out into your weeping cunt. 

He’s pulling out his finger - intentionally curving exactly against all those sweet spots mushed into your velvety walls - only to brand your poor clit with a sharp smack! “Finish that fucking sentence, ma.”

“-deep!” your hips are bucking up at another hefty intrusion, Toji’s fingers relentless inside your elastic wall. Molding out your insides to memorize every bump of his knuckles, every neat curve of his short fingernails. “So so- deep, Toji.” you whine, your shaky hands coming to rest at where you could feel him pumping in and out feverishly into hidden nooks and crannies of your sopping cunt. “C-can feel you right- here!”

This earns you another smack! gifted once again on your awaiting clit, but any and all irritation is swept away when he’s clashing his lips with yours down below in such a messy kiss. Meshing around the bulge of his own large fingers, tongue rolling placatingly over your glisteningly ravaged clit. Flicking, “Yeah- definitely my kind of fucking goddess.” His own free hand dances up to rest about midway up your stomach, pressing down. “M’gonna be in even deeper soon, y’know. Trust me.”

It’s at this moment that Toji’s exploratory fingers find their greedy way to your bulbous g-spot, immediately crashing into it - hard. 

There. There there there, you want to say - but you don’t have to, because he could tell. Could feel the vice-like grip of your slicked walls, the way it’s almost difficult to hammer back into your cunt. 

“Yeah yeah I got it-” he’s humming cockily, back to dragging his lips all over your clit senselessly all over. “All you hafta to do is- hah-” He’s being cut off by his own ravenous thirst, slurping mouth grinding even faster into your pretty pussy. And all you can hear are those syrupy squelches and the smacking of Toji’s mouth, your whining ah! ah! ah! following with every push of his fingers forming around your gummy walls. Curling deftly to massage all your sweetest spots he’s already mapped out so scarily well. “-ahh fuck- can’t get enough. Would kill them all over again just for a single taste of this. Would kill everyone- burn down this entire fuckin’ city.”

You didn’t doubt it, and Toji didn’t let you - not for a single second. 

Because he was almost violent in his approach, bruisingly pushing apart your legs further and further with each sloppy, stumbling second. Looking up at you with his wild gaze, with such a feral grin you could feel along every crevice of your overwhelmed cunt. 

“Can tell ya liked that-” he’s huffing out a surprised bout of laughter, “Ohhh- ya like that very much, huh?”

His tongue was alternating between ravaging your clit and brushing against the teasing edge of your entrance now. Over and over. And you’re gifted with another imprinting smack! onto your quivering cunt - and another and another and another until you’re all but sobbing out such a broken, “Toji- m’so close, fuck- m’gonna cum, m’gonna cum–”

“Then cum f’me, my wife.”

It only takes a few more messy rams of Toji’s fingers knuckle-deep into your eagerly swallowing pussy until you’re crashing so aggressively into your high. Wave after wave of white-hot pleasure running down, down, down your spine and into where he was relentlessly stuffing your convulsing pussy. 

Fucking you over and over through your orgasm, the pretty sight of you so splayed out and ruined makes Toji’s mouth water. He feels like a damn dog with the way his tongue lolls out, grin widening, he murmurs absent-mindedly, “Yeah- wouldn’t be bad at all. Swear you’re gonna be the end of my sanity.”

Fuck, you shamelessly ogle the way his dark robe falls down his broad shoulders, revealing so many dips and curves of muscle after muscle. He was so large - so meticulously sculpted that your restless legs fasten around Toji’s slenderly toned waist, drawing him close until your bare chests were rubbing up against one another. “Heh- you don’t get to hold out on me anymore, doll.”

It sounded almost like a threat - but your bleary, orgasm-drunk mind only has the chance to wonder what exactly he would do if you did. If you didn’t give him - the one head of the Zenin clan that didn’t get everything he wanted handed to him on a silver platter since birth - the one thing he would kill for. Die for. 

You. 

So you’re smiling drunkenly, head tilted to one side, “What are you gonna do about it?”

Toji doesn’t answer - doesn’t even bother to. And the only response you’re getting is a strained laugh - delirious almost, like the mere thought of that was enough to shred away whatever was left of his sanity.

And yours - clearly - because in that very moment, Toji lets his throbbing cock finally spring out, smacking against his abs to leave a glisteningly wet smear of precum. So so angry, his fat weeping tip lets out another wave of syrupy precum at the chill of the heady air. 

Shit - he was big. 

Long, long shaft blending so prettily from a feverish red at his tip to the tan skin behind those tufts of black at his happy trail. Veins pulsing, girthy enough that you’re wondering back to his kill count, thighs twitching nervously to a close. 

“No- no no-” you could tell his tone was trying to veer into scolding, but you caught the way it cracks with so much raw need. “Don’t you fuckin’-” His hands just wrench your knees back open, green eyes just aflame at this point. “-dare.” 

His pointed smile was so dripping wet with your sweet sweet juices from before, trickling in a sloppy trail all the way from the glossy corners of his lips, down to his chin. And his eyes follow the splattering, thick puddle on your collarbone. 

“Oh-” Toji’s mouth falls into a wicked gasp, immediately, he’s surging forward to pool the syrupy mess on his hot tongue. “Heh- guess we really are just now consummating our marriage, huh?”

The movement causes his painfully rock-hard cock to just kiss at your puffy pussy lips, just mashing the fat round tip of his length between your slit. Teasing. So fucking filthy. 

“Toji-” you’re wrenching him by his dark hair to pant into his open mouth, like a mantra. “More- need more- fuck I need-”

“More?”  His shuddering rap is barely even audible, ringing straight to your very heated core, because he sounded so wrecked. So fucking utterly ruined. Voice a few octaves higher in disbelief, “My pretty girl wants my cock? Fuckin’ want-” And then it’s like all the air is being knocked out of your lungs - literally. Feeling as if you’re being split apart so sinfully so, “more?”

You couldn’t have answered if you’d wanted to - because Toji Zenin was fucking ruthless. Just as mean as those greedily lingering juts of his hips, pushing and pushing his massively rotund length past your first snug channel of muscle. 

But that didn’t matter, because your slutty cunt was speaking more than enough for the both of you - or at least that’s what Toji mutters, over and over when he pushes in jutting, unrhythmic jabs to squeeze himself deeper inside you. 

“Oh- oh my god–” you’re batting your heavy eyelids open to take in the way your overstuffed pussy just bulges around him. Lips spread so widely it was like they were conforming to each ridge and vein down Toji’s fat cock, beading a glossy sheen down every inch by fucking inch you were being fed. “So much- fuck, don’t know if I can take it.”

Toji Zenin would rather die than not have his pretty wife all overfilled with cock if that’s what it takes him. 

And by the way your teary eyes grow wider, he suspects his pussydrunk mind might’ve just babbled that out loud. “Heh…didn’t I tell ya, ma?” His low whisper puffs hotly against your ear, tugging tensely on your earlobe. “M’gonna fucking ruin ya.”

And it’s times like this that it’s so clearly impossible to forget that Toji is inhumanly human - that you are so unfairly nothing in a match up against him.

CRACK!

Because with one, harsh ram of his sharp hip bones smacking against the globes of your ass - every solid inch of his intimidating cock is slammed against your tightly cushioning walls. It’s such a ravaging intrusion and you swear you could feel him everywhere. Feel him thrumming hotly against sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Finally, buried all the way to his thick hilt, yet still nuzzling his hips upwards for more-

“S’broken.” Toji muses, and for a second you didn’t know if he was talking about you or the suspiciously sagging bed. “Plan B.” 

It takes only two seconds for his beefy arms to pick you up as if you were weightless - god, he was treating you like some object. And the only time he’s not enveloped by your heavenly cunt is when you’re being shoved down like some slut onto the cool mahogany of Toji’s work desk, his firm front pressing up against your arched back.  

“Plan C is to just fuck you into the floor until it breaks.” he snorts throatily into your ear. 

And you wondered whether it was a joke - you hoped it was a joke. You almost half-believed it until he was back to bulldozing his plump tip back into your briefly-neglected cunt. Stretching the clingy rim of muscle to bend to his round length, fully. Oh, he’ll never get used to this sight. 

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

“F-fuck you really are-” One hand of yours scrambles to blindly white-knuckle the smooth wood beneath you when Toji’s bludgeoning your pussy with powerful, long thrusts. Feeling every minute flex of his thick thighs behind your own, shuddering with each forceful hammer of his sweeping cock inside you. “-you really are in so deep.”

As if to confirm, the man himself glides down an open palm to your stomach. Pressing down hard with all five splayed-out fingers until Toji could feel the same incessant slam of his thumping cockhead, the cascading ripple of his heavy, cum-filled balls smacking against your ass. 

“Told ya- hah told ya so.” his cocky groans are whirling all throughout your mind, such a hot, melty mess with the sheer fucking stretch of Toji’s cock. “Y’know…I can’t help but imagine just how pretty you’d hngh- look all stretched out n’ swollen as a momma.”

You’re nodding deliriously, and the way his crashing thrusts were just bruising against your spongy cervix, bouncing off onto every sweetly hidden sensitive spot inside your elastic walls. “Shit- ya jus’ got wetter- ya like that? The thought of me fuckin a baby into ya?” he spits, long sloppy tongue coming up to taste the dredges of tears streaming down your face- shit, when did you even start crying? 

“Shh shhh- don’t cry–” he’s cooing, rewarding you with another heavy smack! right onto your poor clit. Every steady clash against your over-sensitive g-spot only sends a fresh wave of big fat tears for Toji to kiss at. “-don’t cry, don’t cry. Never f’me, m’never hah- gonna kill off anything that makes my pretty wife cry-” A soft, salty peck on your lips, “-n’ that includes me. If ya asked me to, ma. I’ll give ya anything you ever want.”

There’s a creaking slam! on the wooden surface, and a hasty look over your shoulder shows that Toji has hiked his knee up onto the desk. For a second, you wonder whether it hurt - whether the throbbing shaft of his cock wasn’t rubbed raw by now, whether his abs weren’t just burning with movement. Fucking you so recklessly into the desk.

But oh, you think Toji Zenin would care?

You think he would give a fuck about anything other than rutting riotously into your gripping cunt? Drilling into you again and again until your tip-toes don’t even reach the ground at the force of his pressurized thrusts. The change in angle has his leaky tip glide glossy lines right across the bottom of your dripping pussy and pressing down harshly onto your g-spot. So rough. So mean. You’re scrambling further and further up the desk and-

“Now now-” Toji hoists your weak hips up ever-so-slightly back to him, before pinning you to the desk with his full, heavy bodyweight. “No running away. Heh…how funny would it be if I actually did jus’ hngh- fuck a baby into ya right now?” His fingers get so sloppy on your clit, “Fill ya up- rub an heir right in everyone’s faces?”

“Shit- m’so close- again-” Your ears are popping at the pure saturated stimulation when his hand down below rolls over your clit. Desperate. Depraved. Glossing up the curve of his thick thumb with all the sweet slick beading out with each broken thrust. It’s like he was out of control - losing his fucking mind. And your delirious mind wondered whether you’d be next, that faint cracking of joints certainly not boding well for either of you. “Toji, m’gonna-”

He’s so erratic - sloppy. And so it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same - fuck, you didn’t even realize it at first.

So hard that your vision flashes red and white, breathing raggedly gasping in lungfuls as you rock your sticky hips back into Toji’s so greedily. Your voice is shot - because you’re moaning Toji’s name so loud that it almost felt disrespectful, echoing across the sex-thickened air. “Tha’s right- scream as loud as you want, ma. It’s just us in this house.”

And maybe it was that - maybe it was the feeling of your velvety walls clamping down hard around his achy length - maybe it was just the way you’re whispering out such saccharine sweet, “Cum inside.”

Because Toji’s fractured sanity can only handle a few more unkindly bullying drives into your gushing cunt before he’s cumming and cumming so much he thinks he might die. 

Doesn’t know if he can - if he wants to - stop.

“Oh- ohhh fuck- didn’t think I’d actually-” You feel a branding bite inside the crook of your neck as his sloppy white seed splatters at your inner thigh with each rummaging thrust forward. Oozing down in messy, thick dredges. “-hngh- gonna fill you up so good- until you can’t take it anymore.” You didn’t know if you already could - because you felt so full. Toji’s syrupy cum sloshing around with each ram of his hips, coating your walls in a creamy, slick-like sheen on the inside. 

“Yes–” you sigh over another splintering crack! from somewhere, “Fuck fuck fuck- need you to- hngh, wanna make you a daddy- give you an heir, To-”

It’s as if he couldn’t bear to hear your swollen lips part with his name, because Toji’s shutting you up with a sweltering kiss. Still mounted and rutting into you so animalistically, “the best- the best momma, you’re gonna be the best momma-” he hushes into your mouth. Pliantly kneading your body into a sinful arch for him, you barely even register it when he’s carrying you away. Two thick fingers pooling his glistening cum, inching them back into your stretched-out cunt - “Don’t waste a single drop now- hngh- fuck, you’ll look so pretty all full.”

Before you know it, you’re being sprawled out so easily on the clean tatami mats below, face down, your hips being propped up by one of Toji’s. And in your bleary peripheral vision, you could just about make out how ruined that desk was - how broken. How the fuck haven’t either of you broken any bones, yet?

Or maybe you have - you wouldn’t even know at this point, because Toji was still slamming into your poor, overspilling pussy again. His harsh grunt puffs out in a feverish breath against your ear, “Told ya I was gonna ruin you, doll. Better get ready-” He’s punctuating each word with a sloppy, sold thrust, pace picking up to fuck you so thoroughly into the floor. “Because I have a Plan D and a Plan E until m’sure you’re givin’ me an heir.”

A/N. Ooo what if I made a clan leader series? Thoughts?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[dredshirtroberts]

god. no one prepares you for the irritation and anger that comes when assistive devices and medical equipment actually fix your problems.

[steampoweredskeleton]

. Ignore

[bringmefoxgloves]

love living in a house with a younger brother who’s first reaction to something minor (his phone dying mid facetime call with his girlfriend) is physical and verbal anger. like slamming closed the recliner he was in, yelling fuck, throwing his keys into the seat, i think he kicked his desk when he got into his room and continued to yell fuck and stomp around. just….. love it (grinding teeth)

[rosenclaws]

ok, ok “suck on my fingers.” and “don’t make a mess, baby.” prompt with the worse wolverine? btw i love your words!!!

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, squirting, fingering, dirty talk, overstimulation, cum eating (kinda? i think thats whats this called idk he just sticks his fingers in ur mouth after fingering)

600 follower drabble masterlist

a/n: I'm gonna be so real I am coping hard rn. I am devastated and worried for the future but if writing wolverine smut is what helps that is what I shall do. I hope you like it!!

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Fuck at this point you'd believe that you've been here for days. Wrapped in his arms. Trapped under his adamantium bone and super human strength. The sheets slip through your fingers as your grip grows weaker. Logan has been teasing you, playing with you like a piece of meat.

Logan is upright against the headboard. He’s got your back against his chest. One of strong arms is keeping you upright. Forcing you to sit there. His other hand is shoved into your panties. He didn’t even bother to take them off.

There’s something playing on the TV in your room but you lost any sense of your surroundings about an hour ago. Logan likes to play with his food. Always has.

Your big hot boyfriend loves to make a mess of things before he eats.

“Oh Fuck Logannnn.” You whine as he slips two of his fingers into your already soaked cunt.

Your panties are soaked from Logan’s touch. He won’t even bother taking them off. He likes the obscene sight of his hands down them. Loves seeing his fingers disappear and watch your cute face scrunch up in pleasure.

You’re trying with all your might to squirm away. Not that you wanted him to stop but the pleasure was overwhelming. Your body was moving without your brain at this point. Pure instinct. Logan growls in your ear. Shoving another finger inside to shut you up.

“Quiet. I’m not done with you yet.” You tilt your neck to the side as Logan’s rough thumb starts to circle your clit harshly.

The sounds of your pleasure are loud and Logan is unashamedly eating them up. His fingers movie faster and faster. Pounding into you with a force that makes you scream. Your dripping down his hands and onto the sheets. Logan tuts and shakes his head mockingly.

“Don’t make a mess baby.” He scolds as he drives his fucking fingers deep inside of you. Fucking liar. He loves when you make a mess. Nothing boosts his ego more.

He feels so good. His fingers are tearing you apart. He’s hell bent on making you come harder than you ever have. He can never get enough. It's like a competition with himself. Making sure you know only he can do this to you over and over. A pressure builds deep in your core and your eyes widen when you feel a certain feeling.

“Logan wait I-“ Your pleas are silenced as another moan rips through your throat.

You chant his name over and over as your legs start to shake. Logan watches in awe as you squirt all over the bed. He doesn't let up as he pulls as much as he can. You're moaning only pushes him further. He's whispering dirty things in your ear but you can barely hear him. Your body is screaming in pure pleasure and its all you can hear.

"Too much." You manage to whimper out as Logan continues to fuck his fingers into you.

He hums and in a moment of mercy decides you've had enough for tonight. Such a good pet. His fingers are coated. He pulls them apart and smirks as he brings them to your lips.

“Come on, suck on my fingers." He coos as you lazily open your mouth. Your perfect pretty lips surrounding his fingers, sucking your own juices from his fingers.

"Taste yourself, see why I can't get enough of this delicious cunt." His eyes grow dark as he watches your lips take his fingers so easily. You look up with glossy eyes. Completely fucked out because of him.

"Cute." He presses a kiss to your forehead and pulls you closer. His fingers slip out of your mouth and he dips back down into your soaked underwear. You whine when he gently brushes over your sensitive clit.

"Shhh sweetheart," His moves are softer this time, gentle.

"Just relax. Let me get my taste too."

[k-hotchoisan]

heavy and sticky

<seonghwa x fem! Reader>

Being sensitive is one thing, being easily turned on is one thing, being perverted is one thing. But being completely enamoured with you with all three combined? It’s just hell for Seonghwa.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, Seonghwa is perverted and desperate, cumming/orgasms with and without physical contact, overstimulation, masturbation, pussy eating, praise kink, cream pie, I hope this is filthy enough

A/n: I’m doing this for Seonghwa. Happy Valentine’s Day my darlings 💖

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @sanhwajjong @interweab @mylovelymito

Seonghwa has a problem.

Technically three, but it stemmed from one. So he likes to think of it as just one, which just so happens to be you.

He doesn’t know when it even started, but he thinks he remembers how at least. He knows this ridiculous crush on you fully bloomed when he saw you in a sundress that hiked up a little too high when your friend group went on a holiday, and he thinks how ridiculous it is when he lets himself grow closer and closer to you.

And now all he thinks about is how your skin would feel against his and it’d get him hard way too fucking easily. It doesn’t help that you adore being around him—it doesn’t help with his case at all. You stick to him like glue.

You don’t know that he’s so sensitive whenever you lean your head on his shoulder, whether intentional or not, because the moment the smell of your shampoo hits his senses, he blanks him out, only filled with you, and then he has growing problem beneath his underwear. From then on, any thought he has of you just spirals into a frenzy for Seonghwa.

At this point a crush is an understatement. He’s probably head over fucking heels for you.

What really is the cherry on the fucking icing is when he wakes from a wet dream of this fuck ass vivid dream of you and your poor pussy being completely ruined by his cock, your moans so fucking real he swears that you were really there letting him fuck you stupid, cum warm and thick in his pants when he stirs from his slumber, moans in between pants when more white spurts out of his wet and pathetic cockhead. He’s so fucked. It would have been fine if he didn’t have plans. But the fact that he’s meeting you for coffee in a few hours just makes the whole situation all the more ridiculous.

Now he’s seated across you, listening to your voice as if he didn’t cum all over himself just hours before the both of you meet. But thank the gods the remnants of a dream don’t last for long. Seonghwa likes to believe that he’s holding up well, and he is, taking sips of his iced drink, listening intently. He thinks you’re so pretty when you blink and break away your eye contact before your gaze flutters back to him, bright and cheerful as you run your mouth. Seonghwa wonders to himself how should he keep you smiling and glowing like that for him.

And then suddenly the thought of you under him, completely undone and messed up—eyes rolled back every time he fits his cock right inside you—has him blinking and sitting upright. Fuck. He adjusts his pants, obviously it doesn’t help, not when any point of friction is a contender to making him just cum right there and then. It takes Seonghwa almost all of his willpower to hold himself back and not palm his erection.

Seonghwa tries his best to slip back into the conversation the both of you were having, but he can barely pay attention, his gaze is flickering from your face to your body, to your lips and there he goes, his jaw clenched and his body begins to heat up. He doesn’t know how he’s able to pull through the coffee date with you, but the moment he slams the car door and starts the engine, he already knows who’s etched in his mind while he lets himself cum when he reaches home.

It’s a vicious cycle—the more he meets you, the more he craves for you, and then he asks you out to meet you even more. Seonghwa can’t help it—you’re like dopamine to him.

His wet dreams merge into his fantasies—after meeting you, he would reach home, pent up and so fucking horny that he can’t think—only filled with filthy thoughts of you. The one that fucks him over the most so far? Definitely the one where he almost loses composure when he watches you stretch when you were working out with him at the gym. He imagines himself tearing a hole in the tights you wear that hugs your ass so perfectly, no panties, just your bare, wet cunt exposed to the cool air before he slides himself in, listening to you choke on your moans while you cry about him stretching you open, and dirtying the mats below the both of you, while he’s completely lost in the warmth of your pussy. Needless to say, the combination of a pumping heart rate and the rush of endorphins results in a thick, veiny erection in his shorts, which he could barely hide if it wasn’t for the fact that he wears shorts on the looser end. By the time he reached the bathroom of his apartment, cum would leak past the opening of his shorts and he’d be panting, overstimulating himself until he softens.

The extent of the catastrophe? Which was single handedly the worst and best thing that ever happened. It had gone to the extent that the sound of your voice would drive him over the edge. Seonghwa’s mind is hazy with his legs open, fucking his hand. Until his phone screen suddenly lights up.

With your caller ID flashing across the screen.

Seonghwa knows he shouldn’t fucking do this.

But he can’t stop. The thought of hearing your voice just over the phone while he fucks his hand overrides any ounce of rationale he has, especially when he’s completely clouded in pleasure.

So he slides to answer.

“Hello? Hwa?”

Fuck. The way your voice just right at his ears. Seonghwa shivers slightly at thought of you seated before him, watching him with his shirt ridden up all the way past his perky tits while he bucks his hips into his hand.

“H-hey. What’s up, y/n?”

He’a edging himself, his strokes going slower, trying to compose himself, so he doesn’t give himself away, sweat beading down his temple and down his abs, his thighs twitching at every stroke he gives himself when your voice floods his ear.

“Seonghwa!” Your voice echoes through the loudspeaker, and Seonghwa bites back a groan at the way you’re calling his name, precum oozes out of the silt of his cockhead.

“Are you busy right now?” You ask.

He definitely is. “No I’m-hngh-not.” Fuck. He’s going breathless.

“You sure? You sound funny Seonghwa” you respond, wondering why his voice is suddenly an octave lower.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m good. Fuck”, he heaves, failing at controlling his ragged breathing. It just feels so good hearing you call his name while he keeps leaking. He wonders how long he can keep himself sane while talking to you.

But you already caught wind of it—the breathlessness, the soft whines that escapes in between the words he says, the way his voice goes deeper. You’re not dumb. He just sucks at trying to hide it all.

And you’re also craving for him just as much as he is for you.

“Do you wanna open the door so I can help you out with that?”

Seonghwa’s phone clatters onto the floor, his eyes widen in shock. Shit. You found out.

And you’re outside his apartment. He wonders how he should approach this—ignoring you completely, blowing you off, making an excuse or just let you in? But the thought of him being caught by you only rouses him further, and he knows how much of a fucking pervert that makes him. He swallows hard as he pulls up his boxers, picking up his phone before he reaches for the door, his heart pounding in his ears.

There you are, standing right before him with the most poker face, before your fingers snakes around his wrist, shutting the main door as you lead him to his bedroom.

Seonghwa lands on his bed with you on top of him, a coy smile spreading across your cheek as you tilt his chin up with your finger, admiring the way he licks his plump lips in anticipation, his eyes wide and so entranced. His boxers are drenched to the point where you’re able to see the shape of his cockhead.

You make him watch you drop each piece of clothing onto the floor, agonisingly slow, almost like a strip tease and Seonghwa is eating up every single part of it until you’re just towering over him with you lingerie on. You sit on his lap, dangerously close to his erection.

“I was just about to ask you if you wanted to hang out since I was in the area. But I guess you had other plans, hmm?” You ask, tugging against the waistband of his underwear, the mild friction of fabric against his sensitive cock pulling a gasp out of the male.

You tug, and he lets you, his cock springing out as his boxers are strewn somewhere.

“Do you want me to touch you?” You ask, letting your hands rest on his thighs, giving him slow rubs, watching his cock twitch with every squeeze.

“Please. Touch me. Fuck me”, he says, albeit breathlessly, his fingers fisting against his bedsheets. Shame doesn’t exist in his vocabulary now.

He’s so fucking sensitive right now that the moment your hands start pumping his length, he already feels like he’s about to blow his load, but he forces himself to not to, even though strings of his sanity continue to snap one by one. Seonghwa’s cock is heavy against his abdomen, the previous edging session making his cock more sensitive than before, completely soaked and sticky. He swears you don’t know how long he’s been craving for this, needing this.

You’re soaked enough as it is, and the way Seonghwa is looking at you, so wet and desperate, his eyes so glazed out. You think he looks pretty when he’s on the verge of tears.

Maybe you should start taking advantage of it from now on.

Your fingers rest under his chin. “How long have you been touching yourself thinking of me?” You ask, his cock resting on your ass. He feels like he’s about to break.

“A while”, he mutters.

“Made you wait, didn’t I?”

Surprisingly he shakes his head, eyes still glued to yours. Even after all the perverse thoughts he flooded his mind with of you, he thinks it was worth every second to wait—he just didn’t expect it to come down to this so soon. You cup his jaw with your hands this time, leaning in to press your lips against his, sending his mind into a completely spiral at the taste of you. Seonghwa can’t get enough of the way you’re swirling your tongue against his, swiping his bottom lip, giving his bottom lip gentle bites and he chases after the sensation like starved person, his hand pressing against the back of your neck while the other is soft against your jaw. It’s passionate and so hungry for that few short minutes before you pull away, watching Seonghwa swallow hard as the sticky fluids from his cock stain your ass. Well? Not like you minded.

You pull your panties to the side, lifting your hips over his swollen cock, slowly sinking down, inch by inch, watching Seonghwa’s abdomen flex, while Seonghwa watches you with glazed eyes.

“Fuck. Oh fuckkkkk. So good. You’re so fucking warm”, he whimpers. Seonghwa swears he came just a little when he’s fully seated in you. His face contorts as he sinks into the pillows beneath him, trying to control his breathing as he shuts his eyes.

He’s so adorable, you think to yourself, watching him completely melt when he’s inside you. His hands are spread out on your thighs, then becoming a grip when you start moving, slowly creating a rhythm to bounce off his cock, the wet sounds of skin slapping growing louder by the seconds.

“That’s it, baby. You’re doing so well for me”, you sigh, your mind plunged in the depths of pleasure as you bounce on his cock, watching Seonghwa with his thick furrowed eyebrows before he slowly opens them, his eyes rolling back.

He feels like he’s in heaven. Seonghwa thinks like it can’t get any better than this. Your moans are the only thing he hears, your cunt swallowing him is the only thing he feels.

Then the feeling hits—the feeling of wanting to burst. He stares up at you with a pleading gaze before he says, “gonna cum. Oh my fuck.” His head is spinning with stars, vision clouded with a dizzy white before he stills in you, holding your thighs down as he fills your cunt with spurts of warm cum. Seonghwa’s moans are pitched and they sound so fucking pornographic—it makes you want to overstimulate him over and over till he completely breaks. He’s breathless, moans turning into whines when you don’t lift yourself off him just yet, and squeezing his cock.

The base of his cock is slowly growing thick and sticky with cream and cum, but Seonghwa is craving for more. He is insatiable. His arms wrap around you, and in one swift motion, you’re suddenly below him. He pretty much folds you into half—well, mostly bending your legs and letting him stare at your sopping pussy like a fucking pervert as he pulls out and slides in again, watching the way his cum seeps out of you on top of forming thick strings of cum. Gods, you swear Seonghwa is such a perfect pervert.

“Let me eat you out, please. Want you to cum on my face, y/n”, he pleads, even though he’s already lowering himself down to your cunt. “I’ll make sure you feel so fucking good. Please.”

You giggle, tangling your fingers in Seonghwa’s hair, stroking his soft locks.

“If you do, you can cum in me as many times as you want.”

Your reply alone sends the poor man into the fucking heavens, having him pull your completely cum soiled underwear off your hips before latching his tongue against your soft and creamy folds.

Fuck. Seonghwa thinks he found his heaven.

Repeated flicks with this tongue against your clit pulls loud moans out of you, the way his tongue rubs against it over and over again, his eyes staring up at you like an angel’s.

Soon enough, your fingers are tugging against his hair while you drive him deeper into your cunt. Seonghwa can’t help but rut against the bedsheets to your moans, his eyes shutting from time to time from the friction of his cock and the sound of your voice as you call out his name whenever he hits a sweet spot.

“Hwa, I’m cumming. Oh, you’re such a good boy”, you mutter, shifting your hips as you fuck against his wet tongue, and Seonghwa’s hands are holding your hips down, your clit pulsing erratically on his tongue when your orgasm floods your senses. He watches the way you’re squirming—the way your head falls back, your legs spread open, the way you’re calling out, “Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa!” when you’re rapidly falling apart on his tongue. The grip on your hips tighten, soft gasps and pants leave his lips as red flushes against his cheeks once more.

Your thighs clamp against his head as slick and cream dirties the sheets beneath you, the sensitivity ramping up in levels once your high wears off. Nonetheless his tongue is still lapping up your cum like he’s dehydrated, and your thighs relax to let him off. He looks so fucking pussydrunk that it makes your head spin.

Seonghwa sits up, albeit shakily, and you see why. His cum sits in a puddle where he was lying down on the bedsheets, some trickling down his thighs. You can’t help but smile, crawling towards him to close the distance between the both of you, stopping right before him to kiss his jaw.

“Tell me all your fantasies about me, Hwa. Let’s make them all come true”, you hum calmly, rubbing his inner thighs gently, watching his eyes form hearts as more thick white spurts out of his red cockhead.

You know he still has rounds to go.

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[s-brant]

Three’s Company

When Patrick visits his best friend at Stanford University, Art’s new fling finds herself stuck between two very attractive men.

9k (18+)

Warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected p in v, double penetration, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, they’re all pervs, and strong language.

-

The room is stiflingly hot.

There is no air conditioning in her study/fuck buddy's dorm to keep up with the late April heat that has descended upon Stanford's campus so quickly. Three different fans are plugged into outlets around the cramped living space, yet it does little to keep her body cool enough to feel comfortable.

Sleeping with Art was an impulsive decision. The first time was merely weeks ago after he politely asked if she would share her notes from a class he was absent from. They exchanged numbers to organize the meeting, and she ended up talking to him for the better part of an hour in the dining hall. Although she did not recognize it as flirting—the oblivious little thing she is—he shyly commented on seeing her at one of her gymnastics competitions and refused to let her get dinner with her meal credits. Looking back, his intentions should have been obvious to her, yet she does not think badly of him over it. If anything, she likes how wanted he made her feel. He knew what he wanted and ensured that he got it.

They came back to his room to study—only to study, he claimed with his hands held up to proclaim his innocence—for their approaching final exams.

"Good," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning to walk in the direction of his dorm building. "Cause it's way too hot to be doing anything else."

They were both laughing as he set down his racquet bag to unlock the door. It was muffled through the wall, but Patrick heard it just fine from where he was perched on the foot of Art's bed with Tears for Fears playing on the unlabeled CD he dug through desk drawers to find. The sound of a distinctly feminine giggle made his mouth turn up at the corners in a smirk. This will be fun to tease his closest friend over until his cheeks flush pink and he has to hide his face in his shirt.

When the door swung open, the laughter died out as soon as they realized they weren't alone, but it was quickly replaced with wide smiles and warm greetings.

Patrick tried not to look her up and down so blatantly. Instead, he chuckled and said, "Art, you conveniently left out that you had a girlfriend on our last call."

To this, Art set down his bag and tackled him onto the bed, starting a minute-long wrestling match that only ended when they began to sweat from the heat and physical activity. It was then that Art remembered to have manners and introduced her. He scrambled to sit upright on the mattress and met her curious gaze.

"Y/N, this is Patrick. I'm sorry, I forgot what day he was coming."

She smiled.

"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." A pause, and then she turned her attention to Art. "Do you wanna study another time? I don't wanna intrude or anything."

Before Art could open his mouth to tell her to stay, Patrick aimed one of his charming grins at her, then said, "No, please intrude. I'll just hang out. You won't even know I'm here."

The last sentence caused a disbelieving scoff to leave Art’s lips.

As of right now, as she sits on the chair in front of the desk and the boys share the bed, they have gotten halfway through the study guide they meticulously constructed after one of the two classes they share, but it grew boring once an hour and a half passed. They typically end up getting distracted and make out by now, but with Patrick here, neither of them considers that an option. So, she suggests they take a half-hour break to sit, drink, and talk to allow their brains to decompress from the constant stimulation.

He already had a few beers inside the mini fridge beneath his desk, along with a hard seltzer for her seeing that she finds the taste of beer disgusting but quite enjoys being drunk with him. Also kept in the freezer section of the fridge is a pack of ice pops she bought a few days ago when the heat wave began. They prove to be very useful right now as the midday sun bakes the building alive despite the closed curtains and blowing fans.

The CD has moved onto Nine Inch Nails, and she remains quiet to hear it over the sound of the fans as she holds a red ice pop to the side of her neck to cool herself off. Sometime along the way, both of them had stripped down to their underwear after asking her if it was alright because it was so hot. Patrick joked that he was alright with her taking her clothes off too, which she laughed at while Art playfully shoved him over it. Yet now she isn't laughing. Her small exercise shorts are as forgiving as any item of clothing could be in these circumstances, but the long-sleeve shirt she wore because it was the only clean one left is sticking to her skin.

"So, how did you and Art meet?"

Her eyes open to find Patrick glancing back and forth between them.

"It's a boring story, actually," she says. "He asked if I took notes for a class he missed, and now he's stuck with me all the time."

"No, no, okay, maybe it was boring from her perspective, but I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for at least a week before then. I went to one of her competitions and recognized her from class," Art explains. "She won, which wasn't surprising at all."

Although she already knew this, this is the first time he has admitted to it out loud, and her stomach flutters at the idea of him becoming so enamored with her from one glance. The popsicle is sweet on her tastebuds when she raises it to her lips and sucks with her eyes looking between them both. As she expected, Patrick shifts a little in place and looks away for reasons not at all related to how she was looking at them while sucking her popsicle.

She chuckles.

"So, you were just interested in befriending me 'cause I win a lot?"

Her tone of voice is taunting, but they know it's all in good fun. Art is quick to play along, shrugging his shoulders to feign aloofness and taking a quick swig of his beer before responding. Their eye contact grows intense in the seconds before he speaks.

"Well, there were some other contributing factors."

"Mm," Patrick hums in agreement. "I've never seen you compete, but you are really hot, so Art's right about that."

This makes her pause for a second, her gaze shifting to find Art's to see if his friend crossed any lines, but he appears strangely calm about it. What she doesn't know is that he has never had any problem sharing, at least, not with Patrick. They shared a room in boarding school, jerked off together to the same girl, and shared the court together—what was his would always be Patrick's, and what was Patrick's would always be his.

"You're flirting with me right in front of him?"

Art interjects, "I'd be shocked if he didn't."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's standing up from the bed to get another beer. The dorm room is small, so it only takes a few strides for him to meet her where she sits before the desk and kneels down to open the mini fridge. His left hand braces itself on one of her thighs while the right swings open the fridge door only to find there is no beer left. Rather than complain, he simply grabs one of her least favorite hard seltzer flavors and gives her thigh a firm squeeze before standing up.

The bed creaks beneath his weight when he sits back down on it.

He settles into a comfortable position with his back against the wall and legs spread, balancing the seltzer can on his bent knee. Patrick sits close to him, and she finds it difficult to peel her eyes off the pair of them in their current state of undress. Her gaze mostly lingers on Patrick seeing that she has already explored every inch of Art's lean body in the plentiful amount of times they've hooked up over the past few weeks. But, that being said, she cannot resist looking at Art either. Having two beautiful men laid out before her in their underwear is a treat she never expected to indulge in today. They each have the strong, masculine figures of athletes—showing mostly in their shoulders, biceps, abdomen, and thighs.

When Patrick notices her staring, she turns her gaze to the floor to avoid the embarrassment of being caught. If he did catch her, though, he doesn't call her out for it. Not yet, at least.

With one last bite of her popsicle, she stands from the desk chair to toss it into the small trash can beside his nightstand. It isn't until she lets it go that she realizes how close she now stands to the two of them. Only a foot or so from the bed, her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the proximity.

The way she sees it, she has two options. The first would be to retreat to the desk to let her long-sleeved shirt give her heatstroke while the men get to sit in front of the oscillating fans with their shirts off, or she can strip down to her undergarments and join them on the bed. Needless to say, she opts for the latter of the two.

Y/N lets out an exaggerated groan at the heat and fans herself with her hands for the sake of appearing somewhat innocent in what she's about to do, then reaches down for the hem of her shirt with a huff.

Art and Patrick can do nothing but watch with rapt attention side by side as she pulls the fabric up her torso and over her head. The shirt ends up falling to the floor beside her feet alongside their discarded t-shirts and pants. This leaves her in her most comfortable bra—which is Art's favorite since her nipples can be seen through the mesh material—and a pair of tiny spandex shorts.

Patrick's tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight of her—almost angelic in her beauty—and tries to burn the image into his mind to hold onto forever. Definitely going in the spank bank, he thinks to himself as his cock begins to harden in his boxers. Beside him, Art has been stunned to silence. Even though they've fucked like rabbits since the first time, he isn't sure if he'll ever get used to seeing her like this. Those shorts hug the delicate curve of her hips, as well as that lovely ass that has been sculpted from years of training as a gymnast, and all he can think of is how badly he wants to take them off.

They sit there, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open just enough for her to notice and suppress an arrogant smirk. But to allow herself to smirk would be to reveal her cards, and she doesn't want them to see this as anything other than her innocently trying to cool down. Truth be told, she hasn't thought this through. It's not as though she planned this as she was sitting at the desk. It's more of an impulsive, irresistible urge. And if they will tease her so blatantly with their half-naked bodies, she is entitled to do the same.

"You," she says, jutting her chin in Patrick's direction. "Scoot. I wanna sit in front of the fans too."

Underneath it all, she's thankful that she took the time to do her hair the way that makes her feel the most confident and put a little makeup on. Not that either of them is focused on her damned makeup. No, they're far too busy ogling her figure to notice anything north of her collarbones.

After a delayed second of staring, what she said seems to register within him and spark him into action. He's quick to scoot closer to the end of the bed if it means she'll be inhabiting the small space between them. 

She offers a quiet, "Thank you," and crawls onto the bed, turning around and settling into place with her back against the wall. The cool air generated by the fans blows faintly against the front of her sweat-slick chest, and she can't help but shut her eyes and hum in appreciation of it.

With her eyes shut, Art and Patrick are both scrambling to quietly conceal their growing erections. If they don't, it'll be glaringly obvious when she opens her eyes and sees a tent in their underwear on either side of her. Although the life-long friends don't speak, there's an understanding formed between the two of them. Whatever she allows them to have of her tonight, if she allows anything, they'll share nicely. Patrick knows that if anything happens, he is to assume it is a one-time thing unless she or Art expresses a desire for an arrangement of some sort to be made.

Her eyes open again a few seconds later to find them staring at her.

Breaking the silence, she asks, turning her head left to right to address each of them, "Did your mothers never tell you it's rude to stare?"

Patrick doesn't miss a beat.

"Did you know it's rude to be a tease?"

The sound of Art sucking in a deep breath meets her ears, but she doesn't look away from Patrick. Their eyes are locked, and she can see the mischief present in his. It's almost as if he dares her to do something...like he knows that she wants him just as badly as he wants her. Part of her feels guilty, feeling like she should remain loyal to Art even though they aren't exclusive, but a much more dominant part of her desires it too much to resist the temptation.

"Patrick, don't pressure her. If she doesn't want to—"

Her head turning to look at him halts him in his tracks. The look she's giving him...

Much to his shock, she was a virgin when they met a few weeks ago. He questioned her relentlessly, claiming there was no way someone as beautiful, smart, and talented as her could've gone so long without doing it, but she held firm. It was the truth, he realized after she sheepishly relayed the story of how she made out with a basketball player on Halloween and wimped out before it could go further. That first night, she was a bashful, blushing little thing. He treated her with the tenderness and reverence she deserved, first making her come with his tongue and fingers before fucking her. It was so...intimate. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he made that first, breathtaking thrust into her. Just the thought of it was enough to get him hard the next day, but he knew not to expect anything after how shy she was the previous night. Little did he know, he awakened something within her, and from then on, she would be insatiable.

He almost got whiplash from how quickly she changed from a nervous, flushed-faced girl asking him, "Am I doing this right?" when she got on top to a cock-hungry temptress ready to jump onto him at any moment. Truth be told, he found it so fucking hot. To think that he was the catalyst for this behavior was beyond comprehension. Though Art did well enough in his dating life, Patrick was the one that the girls they liked gravitated toward when they were in school together. But she was his, and he thinks, even now, that he'll always have the satisfaction of having gotten to her first no matter what happens tonight.

Y/N shifts around on the mattress so that she's sitting on the side of the bed opposite the wall, facing them with her hands on her knees and legs tucked beneath her ass. Both boys perk up a little at this, and they watch every minute movement she makes and listen to every breath she breathes with unwavering focus.

She meets Art's gaze first before doing anything. Her brows raise in question, and, in answer, he gives her a slight nod. Those pretty, cherry-stained lips of hers curve into a smirk she doesn't even bother to hide in response to this.

"Have you ever fucked the same girl before?" she asks out of pure curiosity, her tone calm and even. Her hands leave her knees to grab one of their thighs each, slowly rubbing up and down to allow her fingertips to brush the edge of their boxers. "Two guys at the same time is a first for me..."

To say that they are in a state of shock would be a gross understatement. Surprisingly, their mouths are not hanging open, and they aren't drooling at the mere thought of what she's proposing.

Somehow, Patrick finds his voice and says, "No." A second of pause, then—"Is this for real? Like you're not just fucking with us?"

The silence that follows is ripe with tension. All that can be heard is the sound of voices passing in the hallway outside of the dorm room and fans blowing on their highest setting. The hands on their thighs come to a halt at the edge of their boxers, and the softened expression on her face shifts into one of unabashed lust as she looks at Patrick.

In answer to his question, she starts to crawl over to him. Seeing that the mattress is a twin, it doesn't take too long for her to reach him and settle into place on top of him. Her hands slide up to cup his face, forcing him to only look at her when she lowers herself onto his lap. The spandex shorts hugging every inch of her figure do little to keep him from feeling the warmth of her cunt against the bulge that formed the second she took her top off.

That first brush of her lips against his is gentle, as though she has him under a trance, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to snap out of it. Patrick's hands grasp her hips first to keep her from moving away, then they slide down to knead the soft, supple flesh of her ass as he begins to kiss her back hungrily. The kiss quickly begins to descend from her lips to her jaw until he reaches the soft skin of her neck.

While he nips and sucks at the sensitive spot along the side of her neck, Y/N opens her eyes to find Art staring, unblinking, at the pornographic display before him. The sight of him alone—between his messy blonde hair, piercing eyes, and masterfully structured face—is enough to pull a breathy moan from the back of her throat. One would think that she would get used to the way he makes her feel when he looks at her like that, but she never does.

One of the arms wrapped around Patrick's neck uncurls itself to reach for Art, fingers wiggling to beckon him to her. 

He's already invading her space by the time she whispers, "C'mere, baby."

Art practically melts into the two writhing bodies he kneels beside at the casual use of a pet name from her. The word echoes in the farthest reaches of his brain until it is all he can hear on a loop. Even as she grips the back of his neck and pulls him until their mouths collide, his cock twitches from the memory of her calling him baby.

Patrick continues to suck, lick, nip, and kiss his way down her neck as she slips her tongue into Art's mouth with a groan. He leaves marks behind everywhere he goes with the thought of his friend finding them on her for the next week and a half in mind. It only makes it more thrilling for him to imagine the strange mixture of frustration and arousal that will arise within Art when he rediscovers them the next time they hook up.

Slowly, she is guided onto her back by his mouth slipping down to take one of her nipples into it and his callused hands peeling her shorts, along with her soaked cotton thong, down over the swell of her ass. The freshly washed sheets are soft against her bare back as she lays back and watches Patrick worship her breasts with both his mouth and hands. In the midst of their repositioning, Art took it upon himself to squeeze into the cramped space next to Patrick, slotting himself between him and the wall the bed is pressed against. Without a word of warning, he dips his face down to kiss the breast Patrick is cupping in his hand.

She feels hands everywhere, unsure of which belongs to who. Hands grapple for purchase on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her thighs, and her ass—always moving in search of new territory to claim. Although they have no way of coordinating their actions, they seem to move in sync with one another. The second Art's mouth lowers to kiss down her stomach, which flinches inward at the feeling, Patrick follows. If she weren't so overwhelmed with everything right now, she'd likely laugh at how eager they are to race each other down the length of her body.

Their heads bump every few seconds by the time they reach her parted thighs, but they are too focused on getting a taste of her to care at first. They work with the same synchronized harmony they once had as doubles partners, Art tugging her left leg over his shoulder while Patrick shoves her right up and out until her thigh is flush with her chest. She can't help but silently thank her parents for enrolling her in gymnastics lessons years ago. If they hadn't, this would be a tad uncomfortable.

Finally, Patrick tries to shove Art to the side a little, complaining, "Come on, man, you're with her all the time."

To her surprise, it works for the first moment or so. Art places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh as Patrick's tongue makes a broad stroke through her, but it isn't long before he grows dissatisfied with his current role in this impromptu threesome and decides to fight back. He doesn't shove or push like Patrick had, instead, he gently nudges his head against Patrick's until they can share her.

Having Art go down on her alone always feels pleasurable, but having both of their mouths on her at the same time is another sensation entirely. It's indescribable. Spit drools from their lips as they kiss her sodden cunt, taking turns flicking the tips of their tongues against her clit for the sake of hearing her moan over and over. From where she looks down at them, they're nearly kissing each other as they eat her out, and she has to tip her head back onto her shoulders to keep them from seeing her smirk.

When she looks back down, she makes a breathy, gasping sound at the sight of them. Patrick is looking up at her with an intensity no man has ever had when looking at her, not even Art, and there is no ignoring the feeling it stirs in the pit of her abdomen.

"Fuck," she whines and pushes herself harder against their faces, but it's never enough. "More—I need more. Please."

Neither one hesitates. In fact, they seem to form a plan without speaking it aloud. As Art's free hand raises from where it palmed his cock through his boxers, Patrick's lips close around her sensitive, puffy clit and start to suck. The tips of Art's middle and ring fingers brush tentatively against her hole, then, teasingly slow, push inside until they're buried knuckle deep.

The contrast of the men as lovers—Patrick being unforgiving and passionate, Art being tender and desperate—threatens to dizzy her. But Art cannot control himself for too long. He often starts slow and gentle, his eyes flooded with genuine affection for whoever is pinned under his body, then loses his composure the farther things go. By the time he's inside of her, he's almost brutal in how hard he fucks her, and it isn't out of malice, it's out of animalistic lust.

So, as per usual, the pace Art sets to begin with shifts into something harder and faster.

Over the sounds of the fans and music playing on the CD player across the room, a symphony of panting breaths, whines, and wet noises can be heard. It wouldn't surprise any of them if the people who were talking in the hallway could hear it, but it's not like they care right now. 

When she closes her eyes and tries to fall back against the mattress, Patrick stops for a second to murmur, "Don't look away," before getting back to work. Something about the way his voice sounds forces her to submit to his demand without hesitation. There's an edge to it. An underlying promise that he will stop and leave her here to suffer if she doesn't listen, so she does. She watches with a slack-jawed expression at how they work diligently to get her off.

The combined sensations of the fingers pumping into her at a steady, rushed pace and the lips enclosed around her sensitive bud push her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Art slips a third finger in and licks between her sticky folds as Patrick sucks her clit relentlessly. Everything they do is motivated by a dire need to take as much of her as they can, as though they can't quite believe what's happening and want to savor it before they wake from the dream. Seeing their desperation only fuels the fire roaring to life inside of her.

They feast on her the way starving men would if presented with food—humming and groaning in satisfaction at the taste of her on their tongues. Through the haze she's fallen under as a result of the present situation, her gaze lifts from where both of their faces are smushed together between her parted thighs to find that they're both humping the mattress. It seems like they don't even realize they're doing it, which, of course, only makes it hotter for her. To think that she wields enough power over them, that she renders them so useless and needy...

Her brows pinch together at the feeling of Art's fingertips finding the sweet spot inside of her.

"Right there," she breathes out in a shaky voice, hand shooting down to grasp anything she can find for support.

It ends up being Patrick's dark hair that is weaved between her fingers and used as her lifeline, tugging nearly every time Art's fingertips find the spot inside of her that makes her throw her head back on the bed and cry out for them. If they didn't have her pinned down, her hips would be lifting to meet every thrust, but she cannot do anything other than take it. Every breath she takes turns rapid, her chest rising and falling dramatically, as the familiar feeling of her impending release grows nearer by the second.

She says, half warning and half pleading with them, "I'm"—The sentence is cut off before it can be said by a high-pitched moan that makes Patrick moan and Art whimper into her—"Please"—What she's pleading for, none of them know, herself included, but she continues to babble nonsensically anyway—"Ah!"

The hand that isn't pulling on Patrick's hair reaches down instinctively for the hand Art grips her thigh with, and she doesn't even need to ask him for it. He entwines their fingers and allows her to squeeze his hand until circulation is lost as she finally feels the wave that was building within her begin to crest.

It hits her harder than she ever knew it could. 

Everything explodes into a sensation of bliss so strong, she loses herself in it. The only thing tying her body down to the earth is the feeling of the hands on her—touching her, fingering her, caressing her, and holding her hand—yet even that is not enough to keep her from floating away into another world entirely for the first few seconds of her orgasm. The muscles in her legs, so exhausted from being forced into a position like this, shake violently with every wave of pleasure rushing through her, and her walls clamp down around the fingers thrusting into her.

If she could live forever in these fifteen seconds, she would, but it soon becomes obvious to her that there's no chance of that happening. Gradually, the intense sensation starts to recede like the tides, and they are both there to help her ride it out to the very end. But once it fully fades, she wriggles beneath them in sensitivity.

Using the hand wrapped up in his hair, Y/N pulls Patrick's mouth away from her clit with a strength he didn't know to expect despite her obvious athletic background, and when Art notices this, he too slows the rhythmic pumping of his fingers inside of her throbbing heat to a stop. Wary of hurting her, he waits another five seconds before slowly pulling them out.

She has gone boneless where she lays on her back with her eyes shut and chest heaving for air.

Knowing she cannot see them, Patrick cuts his best friend a look and jerks his chin in her direction in a silent urging to check on her. Both men start to move at the same time, crawling over her until they reach her face. While Patrick lies beside her and trails his hand up and down her naked, sweat-soaked torso to occupy himself in the time it takes her to recover, Art licks her arousal from his fingers before grabbing her by the chin.

He asks with a teasing inflection, "You still with us?"

Her eyes slowly open to find them both staring at her, and she cannot help the slight smile that comes to her face at this.

"You guys almost killed me," she murmurs. "I think my vision got spotty for a second there."

They allow her another moment to catch her breath and recuperate in the aftermath of what she endured. She takes turns looking at them as she pants for air, laying with her arms above her head and thighs squeezed together due to her current state of sensitivity.

Patrick is the first to break the silence.

"We're not done with you," he says softly, the hand on her chest climbing up until it cradles the side of her neck. "But you know that, don't you?"

"I'd be a little bummed if you were," she replies.

Her head is whipping around at the sound of Art's voice.

"Only a little?"

She pushes herself up from where she's lying supine on the bed, which is now a mess of tangled sheets and sweat, to smack him on the arm. It's all in good fun, of course, and Art is hardly hurt by the playful blow she landed on him. Giggles escape her mouth as they begin to play fight, swatting and trying to pin one another down with Patrick there to spectate. He encourages Y/N to fight dirty, telling her where to strike, which causes Art to curse under his breath and declare him a traitor.

It ultimately ends with her on top, her legs straddling his hips and hands pinning his wrists to the bed. Based on the faraway, longing gleam in his eyes as he looks up at her, Patrick can tell immediately that she only won because Art allowed her to. Because there is something about being pinned to the bed underneath her that turns him on. And she knows it. It's easy to tell by how his erection presses up against her naked center through the fabric of his boxers.

Suddenly, she comes up onto her knees and moves back until she's hovering over his thighs. Her next words are a soft-spoked explanation for why she's reaching for the waistband of his boxers.

"Too much clothes."

But, to her surprise, another pair of hands comes to her aid in shimmying Art's underwear down his hips and legs. The way Patrick sees it, the sooner he helps her get them off, the sooner she'll take his off. And he isn't wrong. As soon as they get the boxers free from Art's body, the garment is tossed to the side without a care in the world. Neither of them looks to see where they landed, they're far too busy leaning in to kiss each other than keep track of their discarded clothing.

Her left hand is wrapped around Art's cock, pumping at a torturously slow pace, as she pulls away from Patrick with a string of saliva connecting their lips.

"Take those off," she says with a pointed look at his crotch.

To say he is sent scrambling to take off his underwear at her command would be an understatement. If this scenario itself wasn't hot enough to make her cunt throb with a desperate need to be fucked, she'd be giggling at his eagerness. But it's hard to find anything funny when she's faced with Patrick standing, one foot on the floor and his other leg braced against the bed at the knee, with nothing to conceal him from her anymore.

It must inflate his ego to heights it has never reached before to see her tongue dart out to wet her lips at the sight of him. The hand stroking Art falters as she admires Patrick's cock. It's about an inch longer than Art's yet equal in girth, curving up a little toward his hair-speckled, defined abdomen. A drop of precome has dripped from his tip, and she has to dip her head forward to get a quick taste. Those pretty lips wrap around him, not pushing down to take the rest of his shaft into her mouth but remaining where she is, flicking her tongue against the slit where the drops of sticky, pearlescent fluid secrete.

A taste is all she allows herself, though.

Her lips pull off of him with a soft popping sound, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact with him as she licks a drop of pre-come off of her top lip.

She turns to look at Art, then Patrick, then back at Art, asking, "How do you want me?"

Seeing that she was a virgin before she started seeing Art, she figures she isn't qualified to direct this in a way that'll be comfortable for everyone involved. No, if she had to bet, Patrick has the most experience between the three of them—with Art following closely behind—and he will have no problem taking control from here based on how he has acted thus far.

To their surprise, it's Art who answers first. 

Patrick was still in a faraway daze from having her mouth around his cock only to be kicked when he was down by the question she asked. How do you want me? God, it's like she's trying to kill them.

"On my lap."

Art pushes himself up from the mattress and repositions so he sits on his knees in front of them, reaching for her hips to pull her closer without a second of hesitation. Her arms instantly reach for his shoulders to steady herself as she maneuvers into the exact position he had in mind. Buried beneath the music that has become white noise to them and the fans running on their highest setting, he thinks he hears her breath hitch in her throat once she's straddling his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against her clit.

Absentmindedly, she starts to grind against him, coating him in the slick arousal that seeps from her, but it's slow. A tease compared to what's coming next.

"Patrick," he says, his voice unwavering despite the excitement that makes his stomach churn. His hand slides down from her neck, caressing her breast as it passes by at a lazy speed, until he takes hold of himself and pumps a few times—as if he isn't hard as a fucking rock already. Over her shoulder, he meets his friend's intense stare. "If you wanna fuck her, you should probably get on the bed."

And while he would usually fire back something equally witty or taunting, Patrick cannot manage to do anything but nod. There's something about seeing Art this way that subdues him. He would like to think that the sole reason he's standing naked in front of his best friend is because there's a girl involved, but that isn't true. Not completely. Although Art would never admit to himself that he feels the same way, there's something familiar about this. Comfortable. Right.

The mattress dips with Patrick's shifting weight, squeaking a little beneath his knees until he settles into place behind her. His chest presses against her back, and his hand reaches up to grab her jaw, guiding her head to tilt so he can kiss her neck while Art lines himself up with her. She feels Patrick's cock pressing against her ass as the broad tip of Art's sinks inside of her.

Having Patrick's face buried in her neck, her shoulder, and back to her neck again provided her and Art a rare second of private intimacy. Her eyes, glazed over with lust, lock into his and refuse to look away. The intensity present in his gaze does not frighten her. If anything, it sends a rush of adrenaline through her body, and she takes a second to admire his soft, wide eyes. She's never mentioned it aloud before, but she has always been fascinated with making eye contact with him due to his right eye. Half of the iris is a striking, clear shade of blue while the other is a warm brown hue.

"Fuck," he says under his breath at the feeling of her squeezing down around him, her tight cunt resisting a little until she relaxes and sinks down until there's nothing left to take.

There's nothing that compares to the feeling of the first thrust he makes.

Every time, it makes her bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. To feel him so deep is almost undoing in itself. Then she feels another hand slide between her legs, and her mind goes utterly blank. Everything outside of this room falls away the second Patrick starts to rub her clit in gentle, languid circles to help her adjust to the stretch of Art inside of her. Patrick's lips lavish every accessible inch of her bare skin with kisses as his friend, with a hand on each of her hips, starts to lift her up and down at an unhurried pace.

Their noses and lips brush without completely touching. When she pushes her face closer to Art's, hoping to lock lips with him, he pulls away for the sake of seeing her grow hot in the face from embarrassment. The mouth worshipping the back of her neck curves up into a smirk in reaction to the games Art plays with her. Who knew he's just as fun in bed as he is out of it? Certainly not Patrick.

She mutters, voice breathy and weak, "Feels so good..."

"Yeah?" Patrick murmurs into her skin and presses his fingers hard against her clit. "Tell me how he feels."

If he could see her the way Art can right now, he'd have to suppress a chuckle at how her brows pinch together at the command. Regardless of her sudden shyness, the words he says only make her ride Art harder. Over her shoulder, Patrick searches for those pale blue eyes only to find them staring through him already. Every smooth rocking motion of her hips pushes her ass against his neglected erection, providing him with a brushing touch before pivoting away again.

"He feels"—she says, chest rising and falling faster—"He's so hard." Her sentences are hardly coherent. "Perfect—mmm—fucking me so deep." One of her hands reaches to tug his down to press it against the southernmost part of her abdomen. "Feel."

With her palm molded over the back of his hand and forcing him to push down on her belly, Patrick can hardly keep from groaning at the subtle bulge of Art's cock moving in and out of her. It's strangely intimate for the three of them to share this experience, but for him to feel every thrust through her is more than he anticipated.

Unable to fight what instinct drives him to, Patrick shifts his hips until the angle of her grinding against him allows his tip to brush up against the hole she and Art have yet to touch. He doesn't do anything more, not without her asking for it, but it's clear to both Art and Y/N that he desperately wants to. All of this physical affection shared between the two of them has made Patrick needy and jealous, so she decides to grant him mercy.

She reaches behind herself blindly to guide him elsewhere, nudging him against the hole Art is already filling. It takes them a couple of seconds to understand what she means in doing this, but, once it clicks, they start to go a little crazy. For the moment, she has stopped bouncing on Art's cock for the sake of allowing Patrick to push in beside him, and he has to surge forward to kiss her. If he doesn't distract himself with a kiss, he'll be too tempted to move.

As Art kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her own, Patrick's hand wraps around her throat for leverage with his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hand wraps around where hers grips his cock to guide it to her entrance, and with his help, they manage to squeeze the tip in.

Her jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation, and the sloppy kiss is interrupted when her head rolls back onto Patrick's shoulder. Art doesn't seem to care, though. Now that her head is tipped back, her neck is exposed for him to mark, and he takes advantage of the opportunity as soon as it presents itself. His lips brush against Patrick's fingers a few times as he kisses her fervently, sucking hard on the delicate skin that has already been bruised by his dear friend.

"You're beautiful," Art whispers into her neck between kisses. "So, so beautiful."

Taking it slow for her sake, Patrick has to force himself into her inch by inch, stretching her little cunt to take far more than she's accustomed to. But, as hard as it is, it works. After another few moments of him pushing in and pausing to let her adjust, he finally bottoms out with his cock flush against Art's. Her walls clamp down around them tightly. They both share a nervous look at this, wondering if they'll manage to last longer than thirty seconds if it already feels this good.

Slowly, she raises her head from where it slumped against Patrick's shoulder and meets Art's intense stare with one of her own. His hand raises to cup the side of her face, his fingers grazing against Patrick's, and he brushes his thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Every breath taken between the three of them is labored.

Pulling her lip down with his thumb, he asks, "Feeling okay?"

A half-second later, Patrick chimes in.

"If it's too much, you have to tell us."

Not a question, not a request, but a demand. The way he said it left no room for debate, so she nods in compliance and responds with an eagerness that neither man can miss, "M'fine, please, just fuck me..."

Patrick does not need to be told twice.

Having been sidelined for too long and forced to watch them fuck without him, he pulls out slowly, then cants his hips back against her ass with a force that takes her breath away. Amidst this, Art cannot do anything but let his face fall forward into her chest and whine in ecstasy. Just the movement of Patrick's cock rubbing against his with every thrust renders him useless. He knew it would feel better than any sex he'd had before, but this...He'll likely spend the rest of his life chasing the hedonism they are experiencing tonight.

One of her arms reaches behind her to grab Patrick's hip and dig her nails in hard while the other closes around Art's neck to pull both of them as close as can be. And now that he has forced himself back from the edge of a premature release, Art begins to move too, searching for a rhythm that feels right. Soon enough, he manages to find it. Both of their heads lift to look at each other, faces inches apart with their chins pressing on her shoulder, and they work with the same synchronicity they had while eating her out not even fifteen minutes ago.

She turns her head to the side to watch their stare-down as they rut into her like feral animals—utterly insatiable and overcome by their baser instincts. And it's only now that it occurs to her that, underneath it all, they want each other as desperately and pathetically as they want her. Patrick's gaze relentlessly bounces back and forth between Art's eyes and lips, and it makes her smirk to herself. The pleasure of fucking her as one, their pulsing cocks rubbing together in the warm walls of her cunt, has lowered their inhibitions, and the idea of being intimate with one another isn't as daunting as it would be if they were fully aware.

Leaning in to brush her cherry-flavored lips against Art's ear, she whispers, "I want you to kiss him."

The arm looped around the back of his neck pulls tighter in encouragement, bringing his body so close to hers that she can feel his ribs expanding with every breath. His only reaction to her request is a quick glance at her face once she pulls away from his ear with a sensuous lick as a parting gift. It's almost as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but the reassuring expression she wears tells him that it is real. She truly wants him to see him kiss his best friend, not only for their enjoyment but hers as well.

One second, he's looking at her, and the next, he's slotting his lips against Patrick's with a passion previously only reserved for her. Their hands both grapple for purchase on her sweat-slick body, Art aggressively kneading her breasts and Patrick squeezing her hips for dear life, as they moan into each other's mouths.

As they kiss each other hungrily, Y/N has nothing left to do but bask in the tension swelling inside of her. There's something about how wrong this situation feels to her that makes it so much more arousing. Girls are always raised with the idea that promiscuity lessens their value, and she was not an exception. Having been raised in a family of devout believers, she hadn't kissed a boy until she was seventeen years old. The next person she kissed was Art, and in the time since their first kiss, he has thoroughly corrupted her.

And even as distracted as he is by the all-consuming, wet kiss he's engaged in, Art feels her cunt start to squeeze around their cocks and immediately drops one of the hands on her breasts between her splayed thighs. His finger rubs in tight circles on her clit in hopes that she will reach her end before he and Patrick come pathetically soon.

Her body jerks where it's trapped between them when his fingers make contact, pulling their focus away from each other for the first time since their lips touched. Patrick reaches up to hold her neck in one hand and forces her face to the side so both of them can look at every subtle expression she makes. 

"Don't stop," she pleads, eyes glazed over. "M'so close, Art"—Every merciless thrust elicits a high-pitched whine from her—"Patrick, please!"

The body trapped between them has gone boneless and twitchy, utterly useless at holding herself up or aiding them in any way. But they wear it like a badge of honor. With her face falling forward into Art's neck, she loses her grasp on all that is around her and lets them prop her up to fuck her like a toy existing solely for their gratification.

With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other between her thighs, still dutifully rubbing her clit, Art asks under his breath, "Isn't she fucking perfect?"

Although it was a question meant for Patrick, she can't help how she moans and clenches her walls around them when she hears it. Panting breaths from the three of them flood the sweltering dorm room, but they are too far gone to notice or care how much sweat drips off of their bodies onto one another. It's almost hard to get a firm grip on her as a result of it, but they manage to keep her in place by smushing their bodies as close as physically possible on both sides of her.

Patrick bucks his hips up into her with a recklessness that gives away how close he is to his climax.

He says, "Oh, God, yeah." The hand still collaring her delicate neck squeezes just enough to take her breath away for a second. However, once he released his hold on her, that hand moved to wrap itself up the roots of her hair. "Best pussy I've ever had. So fucking tight, it's like she wants us to come inside her." A pause, then, "Is that what you want?"

A second passes of silence from her, and he sharply tugs back on her hair until her face is no longer hidden in Art's neck. This allows them to drink in the sight of her—face twisted up in pleasure and mouth gaping open.

He asks again, "Is that what you want?"

Her response is immediate.

"Yes, yes, yes," she murmurs incoherently and takes quick turns to look between their faces. If the expressions they wear are any indication, it won't be long before her wish is fulfilled. "I'm—mmm-gonna come! I need you to fill me up, please, please!"

To this, Art rubs her clit faster while maintaining eye contact with her and finally lets go of whatever remaining scraps of self-control he has left. Knowing how close she is pushes them closer themselves, and they start to pound her hard. Hard enough that even they, as soon-to-be professional athletes, have difficulty sustaining this intense degree of exertion.

The arm that she looped around his shoulders is still there, but now her hand is sliding down from the back of Art's neck to explore the toned musculature of his upper back. Under her searching palm, she can feel his muscles contracting and relaxing beneath his pale skin.

To both her and Art's surprise, the world begins to shift in their peripheral vision until he falls flat against the mattress on his back with his length still sheathed inside of her. It takes a second for their brains to catch up with what happened and deem Patrick responsible for the position change. He laid his hands flat on her back and pushed with just the right amount of force to pin Art to the mattress beneath them.

Art says, breathless, "I can feel you squeezing us, baby, just let go."

Hearing those words sets fire to her blood, and that, paired with the toe-curling sensation of them pressing deep inside of her, hitting that spot over and over and over, is what tips her over the edge.

Patrick keeps pulling on her hair to force her head up so that they can feel and watch her come, and what a beautiful sight it is. Art, the lucky bastard, is face to face with her as she tenses up with the onslaught of her climax. But he can see the side of her pretty, flushed face and drink up every little sound she makes, so he doesn't feel left out in any way. No, he is experiencing this right beside Art. They're both trapped inside of her, pumping into her throbbing heat and letting themselves be swept away into oblivion by the feeling of her coming undone.

She digs her nails into Art's skin hard enough to hurt as she whines and writhes between them with each pulse of pleasure that runs through her, and it isn't until she's starting to come down, riding out the high, that she feels them spill into her at the same time. Every sensation attached to it prolongs her orgasm—the throbbing, the spreading warmth, and the dying undulations of their hips that grind their cocks together within her. And beyond the physicality of the act, just knowing that they're filling her to the brim with their come makes her head spin from how fucking hot she finds it.

It isn't long before their thrusts slow into a sensuous grinding as they come down from it together, then come to a full stop to keep from overstimulating themselves. They both are starting to go soft, panting and leaning against her limp body in exhaustion, and know they wouldn't be able to continue even if they wanted to.

Her head is laid on Art’s shoulder with Patrick’s nose nuzzling her neck. There's nothing they can do except remain still and try to recover from the euphoria that has rendered them useless, so that is precisely what they do. With their bodies nearly melting together from the heat, the three of them hold onto each other for support until they manage to return to full consciousness after what they went through.

It isn't until another couple of moments have elapsed that Patrick and Art start murmuring to one another while she remains slumped between them. A second later, both pairs of hands are squeezing her hips; lifting her off of their softening cocks, slowly, gently, and minding her sensitivity.

The three of them collapse side by side on the twin bed, bodies squeezed together like sardines, and she finally comes back down from the clouds her head floated into at the feeling of them touching her. It isn't sexual. No, they wouldn't dream of putting her through anything more than she could handle right now. Both touches are tender and featherlight—Art's hand molds over her breast simply to cup it as they cuddle while Patrick brings her hand up from her side to brush a kiss over her knuckles.

The silence continues to stretch on, then—

"We're definitely gonna have to do that again," she says, turning her head to look at each of them before laying her cheek against Art's shoulder. "That is, if don't mind sharing me."

His gaze softens, the hand cupping her breast ghosting up over her skin until it finds her and Patrick's entwined hands.

"I don't mind one bit."

-

Thank you for reading this! I probably won’t write any more Challengers fics but I saw the movie like five times in theaters and needed to crank this out to satisfy the part of me that is obsessed with the hotel scene. I would really appreciate a comment to let me know what you thought if you’re open to that 🫶🏻 The oral part of this fic was inspired by these two (1) (2) I read, so def give them a read cause they're great!

[heytheredelulu]

To Have and To Hold-

And to Fuck Whenever I Want

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

Word Count: 1.5k

C/W: Shameless smut. It’s our favorite dirty talkin’, 107 year old super soldier fucking you (his wife) on your period.

Gimme beefy Bucky coming home late, long after his kids are in bed for the night and finding his pretty little wife curled up on the couch with a frown on her perfect face, watching some shitty ass movie.

His cock twitches in his jeans at the sight of you in his tshirt and an audible groan rises up from his throat when he rounds the corner completely and notices you’ve chosen to forgo pajama pants altogether. Those innocent little cotton briefs of yours always do him in.

“What’s wrong, momma?” He asks in a low, gravely voice as he takes a seat next to you on the couch, resting a large hand on your bare thigh.

“Cramps.” You reply flatly, not taking your gaze off the garbage rom-com playing on the tv, though you’ve seen it numerous times.

“Oh.” He breathes out, glancing over his shoulder at the dry-erase calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen that you use to manage your large family’s schedule. “Hm. Two days early?” He asks.

“Yeah, two fucking days early.” You snap, shifting in your seat.

He keeps his grasp firm on your thigh, offering an affectionate squeeze.

“You feelin’ that bad, huh?” He asks in a soft voice that he reserves only for you.

You nod, finally pulling your attention away from the television and turning it onto him. The only light source in the room at this time of night is from the flashing scenes across the flatscreen but that little bit of illumination is all he needs to see how glassy your eyes are.

“Oh, baby girl.” He murmurs, pushing your hair back off your face. “Lemme take care of you.”

You shake your head, knocking free a few of the tears that had been brimming your lash line. “No, there’s nothing you can do to help.”

He scoffs, his hand sliding up the soft flesh of your thigh until his fingertips brush the hem of your underwear.

“No. Baby, no.” You protest, bringing your hand down to stop him but his vibranium hand is faster, catching your wrist and pushing it away.

“Yes. Baby, yes.” He muses, slipping his index finger under the fabric and gently wrapping the string of your tampon around it.

“Bucky, that’s disgusting.” You hiss, frowning at him. “I’m on my period.”

He lets out a low, breathy chuckle as he slowly and carefully begins to tug. “It’s just blood, momma. You think me of all people would be bothered by blood?” He asks softly.

You pause, considering your answer but in your silence he continues. “Besides, wasn’t that part of the vows we exchanged in that sweet little church before God? To have and to hold and to fuck whenever I want?”

“That was not in our vows and you know it.”

“Hm, they weren’t? We should consider renewing those.” He replies with a crooked smirk as he pulls your tampon free, tossing it over the couch and into the waste bin with precision.

“I gotta be honest, baby girl. If the good lord hadn’t intended for me to fuck you everytime my cock was hard, he wouldn’t have blessed you with such a perfect little pussy.”

“Bucky..” you warn, sitting upright as he rises off the couch.

He shushes you, his large hands moving to unbuckle his belt as your eyes settle on the tented crotch of his jeans.

“If you think-“ He mumbles, pulling the leather through the silver buckle and unbuttoning his jeans with his thick fingers. “That I’m not going to bury myself balls deep inside my wife any and every chance I get- you are sorely mistaken.” He tells you matter of factly, tugging his jeans down his defined waist and kicking them unceremoniously aside in a pile at the foot of the couch. “Now take off those sweet little panties before I tear them off of you.”

You hesitate, swallowing down the whimper that rose up in your throat at his command.

“I said, off.” He repeats sternly, stepping out of his boxers and wrapping a hand around his weeping cock. He pumps himself lazily once, twice, in your hesitation before letting out an impatient growl and reaching forward to curl his vibranium fingers under the waistband of underwear, not allowing you a second more to protest before tearing them effortlessly off of your body.

“Now, are you gonna follow my instructions or will I have to pick you up and set you down where you belong?” He asks in a gruff whisper, his blue eyes darkening with desire.

“And where exactly do you think I belong?” You ask him defiantly, pulling at his last thread of patience.

“You-“ He growls, grasping your wrists in a punishing grip and yanking you to your feet. He jerks you towards him as he looms over you, his head dipped down to hold your gaze and his impossibly hard cock pressing against your abdomen, leaving a smear of precum across the soft skin of your belly.

“You belong wrapped around me.” He murmurs, cupping your jaw gently and brushing the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip in an affectionate sentiment that felt like such a stark contrast to the aggression he’d just been displaying. It was the little gestures that betrayed that dominance in him, that assured you that this powerful man standing so needy before you loved you so much that he’d do anything for you without question.

You lean into his touch and he lets out a low and breathy moan.

“You belong wrapped around me, momma.” He continues. “Crying out my name. Soakin’ my cock with your sweet, sweet-“ He pauses, his length twitching as he sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck, I need you.” he chokes out, settling his hands on each side of your hip and he lifts you effortlessly, sinking you down inch by inch onto his throbbing cock.

He plants his feet and bends his knees, supporting your weight as he cups your ass, kneading the soft flesh while he allows you the opportunity to anchor your arms around his neck. A shameless moan rises from your throat, your head tipping back in the pleasure of him buried balls deep within you as he walks you backwards to press your back to the wall. A low and cocky chuckle is all the warning he gives you before he draws his hips back, thrusting up into you hard enough to kiss your cervix. Choked gasps tear from your chest as he picks up a steady rhythm, massaging your aching walls with every deep rut of his hips.

“I thought-“ He hissed through gritted teeth, dipping his head to nip at your pulse point. “You said nothing would help.”

You shake your head, mumbling incoherently and letting your head fall against your shoulder to allow him further access to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Seems like it’s helping.” He muses, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat. You whimper, tightening your legs around his waist as he slows his pace into long, deep strokes, groaning as he savors the way you grip him, the feeling of your building orgasm causing his hips to stutter just the slightest.

“Fuck, momma. You have.. the most.. perfect.. cunt.” He rasps out, emphasizing each of the last words with a brutal thrust.

You break with that last deep roll of his hips, the tension that was coiled tight in your abdomen snapping with a burst of white hot ecstacy, a broken cry escaping your heaving chest as your walls spasm around him.

“Oh God, that’s it. Come on my cock, come all over daddy’s cock.” He grunts, snapping his hips and increasing his tempo to fuck you through the dizzying waves of your release.

“Jamie..” You whimper, reaching a trembling hand to caress his jaw.

His name on your lips is the sweetest fucking sound, causing his breath to catch and his eyes flutter closed with a low and raspy moan. He turns his head to press a kiss to your palm before you trail your fingertips down his shoulders in a featherlight touch. He buries his face into your neck, his short, sharp pants hot against your skin, his movements growing sloppy and erratic as he hangs on by a mere thread.

“I’m- I-“ He chokes out, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle the primal groan that rips through his chest as his balls draw up and his cock pulses, emptying himself inside you with one last powerful thrust.

He’s still for a moment, working to catch his breath before he tightens his arms around you, peppering gentle kisses along your jaw as he lowers you to the floor on wobbly legs and you sway, stumbling forward slightly.

“Momma.” He says softly, splaying a large hand against the base of your skull and drawing you into his chest. “You alright?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m alright.” You assure him, a hum of satisfaction rumbling in his chest under your ear. “I’m feeling much, much better.”

He smiles, tucking your head under his chin just to feel you close to him a moment longer.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s get you in a hot bath.”

His hands trail along your spine in a soothing motion, goosebumps prickling along your flushed skin in response to his touch.

“To have and to hold.” He whispers, pressing a firm kiss to your temple.

You grin against his chest, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent.

“And to fuck whenever you want.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@badbunnybabygirl01 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @acornacreacure @buckys-wintersoldier @terry2227 @wintrsoldrluvr @foxherder

[peppermint-toads]

you don’t like doctor’s offices. especially not now. you don’t like the hypnotic hum of the fluorescent lights, the cabinets that’ve been there since the late 80’s, the pamphlets sitting in an acrylic holder telling you that you have options.

options. not anymore. because you’re sitting on the examination table about 16 weeks pregnant, waiting for the doctor.

“the baby looks healthy,” the doctor tells you, barging into the room without a knock. “i’m prescribing zofran for the nausea. the nurse will see you out.”

thank fucking god. you wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of this place. the best part about these visits was the walk home. they are usually quite pleasant. being pregnant in the summertime has its downfalls, but feeling the breeze in your hair and through your thin dress is your saving grace.

it’s just another bonus that you pass your favorite ice cream shop on the way home. you think you’ll have an affogato today, decaf, of course.

it smells like heaven in the shop, that cool, sweet smell from the coolers. your favorite. this is your saving grace, this affogato will solidify the day as a good one, despite the lingering feeling of doctor on you.

ice cream in hand, it’s finally time to go home. the walk is clearing your head already. you eat a spoonful of vanilla and sigh. maybe you ought to stop by the pharmacy for those meds. on second thought, that can be tomorrow’s task. you’ll be alright.

actually, maybe not. because you see simon riley’s stupid, bulking form walking towards you about a block away. fuck. shit fuck. you should hide. duck into the closest shop before he can come after you. but it’s no hope, you’re looking up and you’ve already made direct eye contact. nausea meds sound so good right now.

may as well keep going forward. it’s not like he’ll notice, anyway. you’re barely showing, but your white dress isn’t doing you any favors right now.

you’ll give a polite smile, duck your head, and all will be well. no stopping, no small talk, no—

simon is physically cornering you to a complete halt in the middle of the sidewalk, and there is nothing you can do about it. maybe if you curl your back in a little bit, the bump won’t be as noticeable.

“what are you doing? stop that.”

he is so gracefully referring to your posture.

“i don’t have time for this simon. i’ve got things to do.”

you walk sideways around him, and he follows.

“where are you coming from?”

you can’t help it. “you lost the right to ask that question when you fell off the face of the planet.”

you hear him grunt behind you and smile. great, no snide comments yet.

“you look different.”

shit. he’s jogging, catching up to you and walking by your side now. the breeze is picking up and you shift uncomfortably. the fabric of your dress is clinging to your stomach.

simon looks down, his intent is to see what you’re eating, but he catches a glimpse of your swollen stomach and freezes. he’s nearly swallowed by all the foot traffic.

“simon?” you feel the loss of him by your side. he’s stood still, strangers bumping into him and jostling his shoulders.

great. now you’re backtracking, when really all you want is to be at home, in bed.

“simon, what’s your problem?”

“you’re pregnant.”

time stops for him. he’s the father, no way he couldn’t be. unless you were cheating on him, which he highly doubts considering your heart is the purest thing he’s ever encountered during his time on this earth.

you let out a long, long sigh. “yeah.”

then you’re swaying, trying to keep upright and simultaneously swallowing down vomit. simon watches as the life drains from your face a bit. his hands are gripping your shoulders to stabilize you. his touch feels nice, warm.

“i need to get home,” you tell him with a sad smile, pained to be leaving his soft touch behind yet again.

“i’ll walk you.”

you nod. you don’t have the heart to ask him to take his hand off your waist, feels too good. and he’s keeping the world right side up.

it’s only a short distance home, and soon he’s ushering you up the stairs to your flat. you don’t stop him from doing that, either.

you also don’t stop him from pulling your favorite blanket over you after helping you lie down on the couch.

you don’t even get the chance to tell him to leave because you’re just so tired, and his presence makes you feel so safe. you’re falling asleep and quickly. he lets you.

he sits and watches you sleep for the better part of an hour. when you stir, he’s there, staring.

he’s in your lounge chair, chin resting on his folded knuckles.

“i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re barely awake and what’s he saying? “huh?” you say stupidly, wiping your eyes of sleep.

“i said,” he swallows, “i’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

you’re sitting straight up now, definitely more awake now. “i couldn’t have told you. even if i wanted to. you disappeared, simon.

he did. but he doesn’t have the time to explain that now. so, he ignores you.

“how far along are you?”

you tell him. he stands from the chair, sitting down right next to you. he asks if he can feel your stomach. you guess so.

things are getting a little too serious for you now.

“right, well. i had a lovely nap, and i’m feeling much better. thank you for walking me home, but i need to stop by the pharmacy and—”

he interrupts you, tugging your wrist when you try to stand. “i’ll go for you. i’ll do it, please. i’ll do anything you ask me to.

you frown down at him. “simon, there’s no point to this. please just go. it’s just… too late.”

simon’s heart is breaking. he didn’t think it could break anymore than it already has in the last few months.

“let me stay.”

he begs. you think there are tears in his eyes, and if you let them fall you know there’ll be no going back. so you sit with him, you let him kiss you with his hand on your stomach. you let him lay you down on the beat up couch he was always pestering you to replace. you let him pull your dress over your head and kiss his way down your stomach. you let him sink into you slowly and pull your calves up to rest on his shoulders. you let him cum inside of you, again.

you even let him go to the pharmacy for you.

[planetaryupscaled]

Summer Fun

Male Reader x Yeji x Yuna

Tags: 8k, cheating, oral, one-shot

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

“On my way. Almost there,” I texted Yuna as I drove my car up into the Grand Josun.

“Cool. Out back by the pool,” she replied.

It was a hot Saturday in Busan. Yuna and I had been texting each other back and forth for several weeks when she texted me this morning, inviting me to a pool party at her friend’s place. While Yuna and I had run into each other in the past, this would be the first time the two of us will have ever really hung out, and what kinda guy would turn down an opportunity to hang out with bikini clad Yuna?

I knew I was close to the house by the number of cars lining along the sides of the street. I picked a place to park and walked the rest of the way to the house. I could hear the sound of music and voices of people from a few houses away. Once at the house, the door was open and I walked right in. There were a number of people I knew, or had seen at other parties, along with a number of famous celebs. If I had not been on a mission to meet Yuna, I might have been distracted by Lia as I passed her in the kitchen, looking like she had just come from the pool in a bikini. I did say a hello to a few people as I made my way outside. Once out by the pool, it did not take me long to spot Yuna, looking like a teenage boy’s wet dream as she laid on a lounge chair in a red bikini.

“Hey Yuna,” I said as I approach her. Unsure the best way to greet her, I simply sat down on the lounge chair next to her.

“Minho, you made it,” she said sounding happy I had arrived.

“If I knew you were going to be dressed like that, I would have come sooner,” I flirted.

“What? this? It’s just a bathing suit, no big deal,” she said modestly, and then added, “plus it’s never good to come too soon.”

“Touché,” I replied, happy to see her flirt back with a double entendre.

We spoke for a little while, it was hot day, so I took off my shirt and asked to borrow her sun screen. I was left in just my bathing suit and sneakers, still sitting upright as she continued to lounge. At one point I got up and got us some drinks and some waters, before returning to talk so more. Occasionally others would come by and sit with us, but for the most part the two of us were left alone.

“I was a little surprised when you first texted me. I had been trying to get Yeji to give me your number for a while.”

“Oh really? She never mentioned that when she was trying to palm you off on me.”

“She palmed me off?” I said surprised.

“Kind of,” Yuna said.

“If it means I get to hang with you, I guess it worked out for me. But why would she do that.”

“I mean, are you that surprised?” She asked.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, she does have a boyfriend, and after what happened the last time you two hung out together…” she trailed off.

“She told you about that?” I asked and Yuna nodded with big smile.

*Flashback

A group of friends had rented out a house in Busan. Since most people in the group were taking a significant other or had a regular fuck buddy in the group, and I was going as a single, I had been assigned the bedroom with two beds in it. My roommate for the long weekend was going to be Yeji, whose boyfriend was back in Itaewon. Yeji and I have had a number of mutual friends for several years, but it was not until she did her time filming MV for their next album that we started becoming friends, hanging out on set between scenes. I’d never left any ambiguity in my attraction toward her. I would flirt with her from time to time which she would often laugh off, and sometimes would even flirt back a bit, but she never asked me to stop. While it was clear she was not going to cross any line while she had a boyfriend, she also seemed to enjoy the attention I gave her. Which made my room assignment both a blessing and a curse. Staying in a room with the woman in the group I most lusted after, while also knowing that nothing was going to happen.

The first night there everything went fine and without any incidents. The next day the group of us went out on a boat for the day. As the day went on, we started drinking. While Yeji came onto the boat in jean shorts and a tied-off button-up shirt, as the day got hotter, she eventually stripped down to just her bikini. After that, I could not help but be flirty with her. She was even more receptive than usual and started flirting back with me. Even some of our friends noticed the way she seemed to be flirting back with me. Still, nothing happened between us, even as some of the couples began pairing off a bit and there was some on-and-off making out around the boat.

When we all got back to the house, everyone separated to wash off the lake water and get ready for dinner. The bathroom Yeji and I had in the house was a Jack and Jill bathroom, so we let our friends take the indoor bathroom and we volunteered to take the outdoor shower. After going inside to get some soap and towels, Yeji and I went outside. I told her she could go first, but then she suggested we share the shower since we were just rinsing off, and not going to strip down. I hesitated for a moment, mainly out of surprise of her suggestion, but I agreed. The outdoor shower didn’t have a door to it, but it did have 7ft wooden walls on three sides to help offer some privacy, but it also made it so we had to stand pretty closely together. We shared the soap and rotated being under the spray of water until Yeji was under the spray with her back to the shower head. She dipped her head back and let the water rain down on her face and hair. When she raised her head back up and opened her eyes back up, the two of us found ourselves locking eyes. It was unclear who made the first move, but suddenly, I had a firm grip on Yeji’s ass and her back was pressed up against the wall, as our lips were locked and she was sliding her tongue into my mouth.

We only made out for five minutes at most before we were snapped back to reality by the sound of friends coming out the back door to get the grill started. While it was only a few minutes, our kissing was so intense that at the moment we stop, Yeji had begun wrapping one of her long legs around mine, and I had a hand on the clasp of her bikini top. Once the realization of what happened set in, Yeji quickly got out of the shower, wrapped herself in a towel, and went inside. I stayed in the shower and tried to let my arousal cool down before toweling off and heading over to the grill, giving Yeji some time and space to change before I headed to our room.

Yeji kept her distance from me the rest of the night. Sitting on the other end of the table from me as we ate. Then sitting on the other side of the room from me as we all played Cards and watched a movie. As the night went on, people began going to their bedrooms two by two until it was just Yeji and I left in the living room. We eventually figured we might as well go to be as well. Our bedroom was the bedroom at the end of the hallway upstairs. After the events in the shower, things began feeling even more awkward between us as we walked down the hallway with the echoes of sex noises from each bedroom door we passed. Yeji went into the bathroom and changes into her sleepwear, some short cotton shorts and a gray t-shirt. I quickly changed into some gym shorts and a muscle shirt. We both then climbed into our respective beds. In the quiet of the bedroom, we could hear the sounds of our friends engaging in carnal pleasure from down the hall.

“Minho, about earlier,” Yeji spoke up. “The kiss…”

“Don’t worry. It never happened,” I reassured her.

“But it did though.”

“It did, and I was great, but as far as anyone else is concerned it never happened.”

“So, you’re not going to tell anyone?” she asked.

“No, I won’t. Unless you tell him, Jihoon will never find out what happened.”

“Okay,” she said with a deep exhale. We then lay there in silence for a while. “What do you mean when you said it was great?”

I looked over at the other bed, there was enough light coming in the room through the window that I could see Yeji’s face and eyes looking back at me. “I think you know what I meant,” a proud smile came across her face at that, “but if we’re going to act like it never happened, we should probably stop talking about it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed before rolling over in her bed. I turned and tried to close my eyes and fall asleep, but I was not tired. Between the thoughts of the kiss in my head and the sounds of sex coming from the hallway, my brain was still wide awake. Some time passed, and the harder I tried to not listen to sexual moans and tried not to think of the idol in the bed 5 feet away from me, the more my brain focused on those exact things. I was at a point where had I been laying on my back instead of my side, there would have been a large tent in the sheet I was under. I thought about sneaking into the bathroom to rub one out, but I could hear stirring coming from the bed next to mine which led me to believe Yeji was still away. I was contemplating what to do when I heard it.

“Ummff.” a soft-sounding stifled moan. However, unlike the other moans I had been hearing through the door, this one came from the other side of the room I was in. All my thoughts froze when I heard that sound. And then a minute or so later, I heard another similar moan. One that sounded like it came from someone desperately trying to not make a sound. I knew it had to come from Yeji. She must have assumed that I was asleep because unlike her, I had remained still in bed while she had been tossing and turning. I slowly, trying to not make a sound, rolled over onto my back and turned my head. I then paused for a minute, before opening my eyes slightly, just squinting as I looked to the other bed. The sheets were up to her shoulders but her knees were bent up and spread apart and the way her shoulder moved, it was obvious she was touching herself. Her eyes were shut, and was biting her lip shut. Even still, another moan escaped through her tight lips.

Watching her touch herself, had my hand moving down to my crotch and giving my hard cock a good squeeze. After another minute of watching, I soon myself stroking myself under the sheet as I watch Yeji touch herself under her bedsheet. Like Yeji, I was trying to stifle any noise coming from me. However, a groan did eventually escape my mouth. As soon as it happened, Yeji opened her eyes and looked my way, and I too was looking at her. She froze and a look of total shock came on her face, but she didn’t say anything. I saw her eyes shift, and she looked at the tent in my bedsheet with some obvious moment where I was stroking myself. Her eyes then moved back up to mine, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, I could see her arm being to move again as she looked at me.

The two of us stayed in our beds, both openly masturbating under our sheets as we looked right at each other. The sheet had moved down her body a bit because of her arm movement. I could now see her erect nipples pressing against her t-shirt. Neither one of us was trying to muffle our moans anymore. Yeji now openly moaned with her mouth wide open as she touched herself. We went for several minutes until she let out one final moan and I saw her eyes roll back, her body then began to twitch as she came all over her hand. Watching her cum, pushed me over the edge and I let out a grunt and my cock began firing into the bed sheet. When I finished blowing my load, I looked back over just in time to see the Play Dead actress pull her hand out from under the sheet. Her hand glistened in the moonlight from the slick wetness that covered it. She rubbed her hand on the bedsheet to dry it off. She then looked back over at me and saw me looking back at her.

“Goodnight,” she said with a broad, but guilty-looking smile, before rolling over to the other side of her bed and going to sleep. It took me a little longer, but I too eventually fell asleep, but it would not be for long.

I was having a very vivid dream of having sex with Yeji in the outdoor shower. We could hear all of our friends on the other side of the wooden wall that Yeji had her back against, as I held her up and was thrusting into her. Her top was off, but her bikini bottoms were just pulled to the side for my cock to enter her. I was getting ready to explode when I suddenly woke up. I was disappointed when my eyes opened, having the dream end early. I then realized why I woke up as I suddenly felt the strong need to pee. I checked my phone before getting out of bed and saw it was only a little before 6AM, I’d only been asleep for a little over three and a half hours since my masturbation session with Yeji.

I got out of the bed and took a look over to Yeji’s bed. She looked to be asleep, with the sheet now down by her waist. It was for the best since my gym shorts, sans underwear, was not doing much to hide the wood I had from my dream as I walked across the room to go to the bathroom. It took some fighting to aim my hard-on down so I could pee, but I eventually got it, and then realized just how badly I really did need to go. It seemed like the flow would almost never end. Eventually, I did finish, flush, and watched my hands. I opened up the door to head back to bed when I got startled by a person in the doorway.

“Hi,” Yeji said as she stood in front of me.

“Hi?” I replied. “Do you…?” I asked gesturing to the bathroom behind me, but she shook her head. We both stood there frozen in time, looking into each other's eyes. Just like in the shower, in an instant, we went from looking at each other to having our arms wrapped around each other as we made out. Once again, we were locking lips, and our kisses were filled with desperation and lust. I picked her up and she quickly wrapped her legs around me. I walked her over to her bed and stopped there for a minute to continue making out for a little longer before finally pushing her back so she fell onto the bed. She now lay on her back with her legs dangling off the bed.

Looking up at me, she just said, “We can’t have sex.”

“Okay,” I told her. I bent down at the waist to lean in and kiss her. As we kissed my hands moved to her hips and took hold of the waistband of her shorts. I then began dropping to my knees on the floor, and as I went down, I took her shorts down with me. She didn’t say anything until her shorts were totally off.

“We just can’t have sex,” she reiterated, but she widen her legs as said that.

“I know,” I told her, before burying my face between her cunt. Normally I like to tease and do a little bit more foreplay before going in for the main course. This time though, I had no patients for it and judging by how wet she was and the sound she made when my tongue made contact, she was not interested in being teased either. I could feel the hairs of her brunette bush brush against my nose as I ate her out. She had obviously recently trimmed down for her bathing suit. As I moved to suck on her clit, Yeji reached up and grabbed a pillow, to muffle the moans. I quickly moved, putting a finger inside of her as I moved my mouth away so I could reach up and pull the pillow away from her face.

“I don’t anyone to hear,” Yeji pleaded.

“It’s 6AM and everyone else was up late drinking and fucking, we’re the only ones awake and I really want to hear every single sound you make as I lick your pussy.” Yeji didn’t put up much of a fight. Taking the pillow back, she put it under her head so she could watch me go back to eating her out. She did not hold back from letting me hear the pleasure noises she made and the only time her sounds got muffled again was when she tightly wrapped her legs behind my neck and I had her thighs pressing against my ears. I was licking her fold and rubbing her clit when Yeji climaxed. When he did, her legs tightened around my head, smoothing my face into her drenching wet pussy. I hungrily ate her out like. There was not much in the way of skill or technique, it was just pure passion. As a result, it only took about five minutes or so before Yeji grabbed a pillow to cover her mouth and muffle the loud moans as she came. I could feel her leg that was wrapped around the back of my head shake as her pussy quivered in orgasmic bliss.

“Oh gosh, wow. That was…wow,” Yeji said as she removed the pillow and caught her breath.

“Yeah, but we’re not done yet,” I told her.

“What?”

“That round was because we needed to grit it out of our system. This time it is because it feels so fucking good and we want it,” I told her. I then moved back between her legs and began licking up all of her juices that had leaked out of her while also avoiding her pussy lips and clit. I was purposely teasing and taking my time this round. I had Yeji move to the middle of the bed so I could lay down on it as well while I tongued her vulva. I started off kissing and licking up and down her thighs. Yeji put up no argument or fight to what I was doing. She just laid back and enjoyed the feeling. I took my time with her, and when I finally did move to her pussy, she all but melted for me, letting out a long moan, she relaxed to the point that her body was basically mine to do what I want with.

Yeji was bottomless, but she still had her t-shirt on. As I started licking her, my eyes looked up her body. I could see her hard nipples tenting her t-shirt, and I decided that it was time for that to go. I moved my right hand up her stomach and slid it under her shirt. My hand placed her breast and gave it a squeeze. I heard the idol suck in her breath as I have her a squeeze, followed by a soft moan. I played with her tit for another seconds before I tried pushing her shirt up to expose her breasts. She got a little frustrated with my fumbling hand and finally yanked her shirt off and threw it to the floor. I now had her naked on the bed, with my head between her legs and my hand on her tit. I tried to focus on her mound, but my eyes could not stop looking at her soft looking perky breasts. Eventually, my hand and mouth switched places. I now fingered her as I sucked on her nipple. I alternated from her right to left breast for several minutes, occasionally breaking things up by kissing her mouth.

I toyed with her a bit, working her near the brink of orgasm before pulling back a bit. I worked her for nearly 30 minutes before Yeji finally could not take it anymore. This time when she reached the bring, her hand reached down and held my hand in place and she humped my fingers as her other hand grabbed the back of my head and pulled me in for a kiss. When she came her orgasmic cries were muffled by my mouth as we made out. We kissed throughout her orgasm, and as she died down, I moved my lips off hers and began kissing her neck before moving back down until I was enjoying her hard nipples once again. We laid in bed for a little while before she spoke up again.

“I guess, it’s my turn now to return the favor” she said.

“Only if you want to,” I told her. I wanted her to do it, desperately, but I didn’t want to pressure her.

“I want to,” she confirmed. I then felt her hand pet my crotch. “I really want to.”

I then sat up and Yeji got up off of the bed. Just like my first round of oral on her, Yeji got down on her knees on the floor next to the bed. I took off my shirt and moved to the edge of the bed. I thought about removing my shorts, but decided I rather watch her remove them. Once I was sitting on the edge of the bed, Yeji’s eyes moved from looking into mine, down to the obvious tenting in my shorts. Her tongue lightly grazed her lips before she gave a lip bite and reached out for the waist band of my shorts. She slowly pulled them down. More and more of my balls and shaft became exposed, and once she got the, bellow my tip my erection sprang up and slap her chin.

“Oh my god, Minho? Are you joking?” She said in shock, while removing my shorts the rest of the way down my legs.

“What?” I asked with a big smile on my face.

“Your cock, it’s…wow,” she said, as she reached out and took hold of it.

“I take it you like it?” I asked as she moved it around to see it from different angle.

“What am I even supposed to do with all of it?” She asked as moved her hands around his shaft. As she spoke, she could not hide the big excited smile from her face.

“I think you have a pretty good idea of what to do with it.”

“Maybe,” she said playfully before puckering her lips and giving the tip a kiss. “How have you been able to keep this hidden?” She asked as she added a second hand to the shaft, and began to lightly stroke it.

“This weekend it’s taken a good amount of self-discipline, breathing exercises, and some strategic holding of towels and other items, to keep it hidden. I am surprised you didn’t feel it when we kissed, it was pressing up you a good amount.”

“I think I was so in my head that we were kissing I must have missed the feeling, but wow,” she said with her eyes trained on my dick. Her eyes looked up at me as her face inched towards my cock. She opened he mouth and stuck out her tongue. Just before her tongue touched my cock, she gave me a wink. She then gave along show lick to the tip before closing her mouth around it and giving it a suck. For the first two minutes she just held the base in her hands while she sucked on and swirled her tongue around the tip. Since getting to know her, I had dreamed this moment multiple times, but the dreams didn’t compare to the reality of actually having her look up at me while she had her lips tightly wrapped around my cock head.

Yeji then started taking more and more of my manhood into her mouth. Her lips stretched out a bit around my girth. She went down until she gagged a bit and pulled off my cock a bit. Though she was undeterred. She tried going down further a few more times, but each time she got to the same spot she would start to gag. Yeji then pulled off my cock and gasped.

“I can usually take Jihoon’s whole cock in my mouth,” she said.

“I guess I’m just a little bit bigger than him,” I said with a smirk.

“Oh yes,” she replied. “Thicker too,” she added.

“Don’t worry about trying to deep throat, what you were doing felt really good,”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Hearing that what she was doing felt good seemed to give Yeji a spike of confidence as she shorted giving a more energetic blow job with zero hesitancy at all. She began moving her hand up and down my shaft while she alternated between boring her head along the top half of my shaft, and using her tongue to lick, flick and swirl around the top of my dick. While she never moved her mouth down to them, she did spend a little time playing with my balls in one of her hands.

“I’m getting close,” I warned her. She just moaned around my cock in her mouth and kept on blowing me. After another minute, I gave another warning, “Seriously, I’m gonna cum. Where should I?”

“Where do you want to?” Yeji asked.

In that half second, I thought about picking her up on, putting her on the bed, thrust my dick in her and give her just an epic creampie. However, I knew that wasn’t an option. “I want to cover your beautiful face.”

“I should have guessed,” she said, and then went back to sucking the tip as her hand worked the shaft, really pumping it hard. It was not look after that, that the urge to blow my load became overwhelming. I couldn’t barely speak, but Yeji understood what was about to happen. She pulled her mouth off my cock and salt back a bit. She aimed the tip at her face and closed her eyes just in time as the first blast hit her just above the eye brow. As I continued to cum, she began smiling and laughing a bit as her face continued to be glazed.

“Is it normally that much?” Yeji asked when I finally finished cumming.

“Not really, you just really got me going,” I told her,

“I guess so,” she said as she wiped some cum away from near her eye. She then sucked her finger clean. “I should get cleaned up,” she said before quickly getting up and walking quickly to the bathroom. My eyes followed her ass as she walked. She never shut the door behind her, and from where I sat on the bed, I could clearly see her in the bathroom. As she bent over at the sink to wash her face, I let out a groan. She looked so good, being bent over like that. My dick had deflated a bit after cumming, then I was back to full strength now as I looked over her body. I was on autopilot as I watched her and a minute later, I found myself standing in the doorway to the bathroom, looking at her. When she finished washing her face she turned to leave and saw me standing in the doorway, and yet she still approached.

She stopped herself when she was less than a foot away from her. She was close enough that my hard cock was practically touching her. She looked up at me, and I down at her.

“We can’t have sex,” she repeated, but she did so meekly. Whatever willpower she had was clearly wavering. Had I kissed her right then, I had zero doubt in my mind we would have been having wild passionate sex within minutes. But I didn’t.

“You sure?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered.

“Okay,” I told her. While I may have been able to get with her, I knew if we did, she’d hate herself for doing it and she would have had some resentment for me. So, I decided to back down and hope that she breaks things off with her boyfriend in the near future and we could have all the guilt-free sex our bodies can handle as soon as that happens. I moved past her into the bathroom, both of us letting out a grown as our bodies accidentally brush up against one another, and then I shut the door behind me.

I took a shower and jerked off to release some of the tension. I then came up with an excuse to leave after breakfast and head back home. The temptation and desire would have been too strong had I stayed.

It was almost two weeks after that before I heard from Yeji again. And it was only via text. We texted sparingly a few times over the course of a few weeks. Then one day she texted me to let me know that she had been talking to Yuna about me, and she was going to try to set us up.

*End of flashback

“How detailed did she get,” I asked.

“She was pretty vivid with her details,” Yuna replied.

“Really? I didn’t think she’d ever talk about it.”

“Oh she talked for quite a while about it,” Yuna said. The tone of her voice was both playful and flirty. With my mind thinking about the activities of that night, and knowing Yuna knew all the details and then agreed to meet me was getting me aroused. I adjusted myself in my swim shorts, making she see my dick went down the leg of my shorts rather than have me pitch a tent in them. As I sat back down, and looked at Yuna and even through her sunglasses I could see her eyes look down at my crotch. I then moved a little to make sure I was sitting so I was sitting directly facing Yuna.

We continued to talk for a while, with the Yeji topic being dropped and we got to know each other a little more. Yuna continued to be a little flirty, and she looked so sexy in her bikini that my heart rate was elevated. I then decided to pull a Hail Mary that I had tried four or five times with success. As we sat there sitting and talking, I slowly began working the pant leg of my swimsuit up higher and higher on my thigh. I did it slowly over about 10 minutes or so, as we continued to chat.

“So, what are your plans after this,” she asked.

“I don’t know, I have not really thought that far,” I suddenly saw her jaw drop as I talked, “I didn’t really…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” she interrupted. “But umm..”

“What?”

“Ah, I don’t know how else to say this, but I can see your dick,” she said. I knew she could. I was sitting facing right at her, and I have rolled up the leg of my shorts just enough that she could clearly see my cock head is she looked down between my legs, meanwhile it was covered up from anyone who did not have a direct line-of-sight up my shorts.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry,” I said acting like it was an accident.

“It’s fine, it happens,” she said.

“Guy’s cocks poking out of the bottom of their shorts is something that happens regularly to you?”

“Well, no. Not really,” Yuna laughed.

“That better?” I asked as I rolled my short legs back down.

“I don’t know, I didn’t mind the view before.”

“I can put it back out if you’d like, I don’t mind,” I told her.

“Tempting, but probably safer for you not to be hanging out like that,” she replied.

“Safer for who?” I asked. Yuna blushed and took a sip of her drink. We were silent for a minute or so, and then Yuna spoke up.

“One more question, about what I just saw.”

“Hit me with it.”

“Were you fully hard.”

“Honestly?” I asked, and Yuna nodded, “Like steel.”

“Why?”

“Are you joking? Look at you,” I told her. “God, I have to control myself when I just see you smile, and now here you are in that bikini. I’m not made of stone,” I explained.

“Plus, I brought up that night with Yeji,” she added.

“Yes, that didn’t help settle me down much.”

“I’m going to take a quick dip in the pool to cool off and then get a refill,” she said showing off her empty glass. “Care to join me?”

“I’d love to, but maybe I should stay here for a minute and get things a little under control before getting up. I’ll catch up in a minute,”

“Smart,” Yuna said as she got up and touched my shoulder as she walked past me. I did not even try to hide as I turned my head and looked at her ass after she walked by. Yuna looked back over her shoulder and caught me looking. She then gave a little booty wiggle in my direction before disappearing out of view. Seeing her smiling over her shoulder as she gave that shake probably added an extra two minutes to my cool down period before I could standup without the pronounced outline of an erection in my shorts.

I sat in the chair for a few minutes, trying hard not to think about Yuna or Yeji so that the swelling in my shorts would go down. When I felt confident about enough about standing up, I did so and then make my way to the pool to find Yuna. When I exposed myself, I didn’t expect that she’d become so overcome by lust she’d jump on me right on the lounge chair. It was more just about getting the idea in her head. The most important thing was that she did not freak out or get offended, instead she continued to flirt with me before she left. And she even looked back at me when she left. So at minimum she was fine with it, and there was a chance she was more than fine with what she saw.

I walked around the pool for a little bit, then headed inside to use the bathroom before resuming my search for Yuna. Eventually I found her in the kitchen talking with a few people. She was still only dressed in her bikini and sunglasses. As soon as she saw me, she excused herself from their conversation and walked to me.

“You’re looking a little more relaxed,” she said with her eyes darting down to my crotch before looking back up at me.

“Yeah, well, who knows how long that will last now that I am back talking with you,” I flirted.

“Maybe we should get you somewhere a little less crowded so you don’t embarrass yourself,” she flirted back.

“Good idea. Any suggestions?” I asked.

“Well…” she said as she thought. “Have you ever been here before?”

“No,” I admitted. “Honestly, I’m not even sure whose house this is.”

“Oh, well, then do you want to check out the rest of it, snoop around a bit?”

“Sure, sounds fun.”

It was a really nice house, and a good size mini mansion as well. I probably would have enjoyed exploring the house if I didn’t have other thoughts clouding my brain. She led the way and we quickly found ourselves going up stairs. As soon as we got up there, I grabbed her arm to pull her to me and I moved my hand behind her head as I went in for a kiss. Even though I moved suddenly, there was zero hesitation from Yuna as she immediately kissed me back and wrapped her arms around me. We started making out passionately in the hallway, before eventually we started to move again. We continued to make out as we fumbled around trying to find a room to get into for some privacy. The first door we got to was a closet. The next door was locked. The third door Yuna had her back to and nearly fell backward as I opened the door. We were both thankful that the room appeared to be a guest bedroom. I kicked the door shut behind me and then turned to flip the lock on the door knob. Once locked I turned back to Yuna and lifted her up in my arms. We resumed kissing until I had walked us close enough to the bed that I could toss her on it. She quickly moved to the center of the bed, and I pounced on top of her. Our lips locked once again. Now on top of her, I had no doubt she could feel how hard I am as it was pressing firmly against her.

After a few more minutes, I could not take it anymore. While I was loving being there, making out with a woman I had lusted over for years from afar, I was now too horny. I pulled away from Yuna’s lips and looked down at her. I could see the same overwhelming lust in her eyes that I was feeling. I could sense she wanted the same thing I want.

“Yeah?” Was all I asked.

“Yeah,” she answered confidently. After that I didn’t even bother stripping off my clothes or taking the time to take hers off. I was eager, I simply slid up the leg of my swim trucks to my crotch to uncover my dick and ball, and then I simply hooked her bikini bottom and pulled them to the side. As I exposed her shaved pussy, my finger could feel how wet she was and also the heat emanating from between her legs.

I lined myself up, and even just feeling her soft wet lips against the tip of my cock was enough to get me to let out a slight moan. I looked her in the eye and she gave me a head nod. With that I quickly thrusted the first two third of my cock into her. Yuna let out a grunt as she felt me suddenly enter her. I pulled out some, before thrusting forward again and pushing my full cock into her. I then paused. I wanted to take stock of where I was at that moment. I wanted to save the memory of her face looking up at me, and the feeling of her warm, wet pussy tightly squeezing my manhood.

I wish I could say I rocked her world after that. That I showed of my stamina, and some moves that I had learned over the years. Instead, three minutes after entering her, I found myself announcing. “Jesus, I’m gonna cum!”

“Me too,” she said which shocked me. I kept thrusting until I could not hold back any longer. At the last possible second, I pulled out and my dick erupted all over her toned stomach. I grunted as came all over her, and Yuna let out a long loud moan as she came as well. When I finished summing, I leaned down and kissed her, and as I moved my body off of hers, I began moving my lips from hers to along her neck and collarbone. Eventually the two of were laying side by side. Yuna was the first of us to speak.

“I’m not usually that fast,” she confessed.

“Me neither,” I told her. “I just… I’ve been fantasizing about doing that with you for so long, and you’re so beautiful. I just kind of loss control.”

“That’s sweet,” she said with a laugh. ‘That’s not what I meant thought. Although, yes, that was a pretty fast climax for me as well.” She then turned onto her side and looked at me. “I meant I don’t usually hop into bed with person I just met.”

“Oh, okay. Me neither.” I told her. “Though it’s not for lack of trying.” Yuna laughed at my joke. When she finished laughing, she looked down at her stomach which was coated in cum. She grabbed a blanket that was on the bed and began cleaning herself off.

“I’m surprised you didn’t finish inside of me.”

“Me too. God knows I wanted to.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Because I didn’t know if you wanted me to, and I didn’t want you storming off all mad. And also, because I didn’t want to cum in you yet.”

“Why’s that?” She asked as she tossed the cum stained blanket to the floor.

“Because then I wouldn’t have been able to do this,” I said a quickly got on top of her again, and then moved down her body. Her bikini bottoms were still pulled to the side, but I lifted her legs up and pulled her bottoms off. Once she was bottomless, I put her legs over my shoulders and pushed my face down between her legs. Once again, I skipped my usual teasing, and got right to the point. I might have wanted to taste her more than she even wanted me to go down on her, so I immediately tasted and attacked her pussy with my lips and tongue. Yuna gripped the sheets as I ate her out like I’d been on a hunger fast for the last week.

“Oh wow, Yeji was right,” Yuna moaned.

“Right about what?” I asked between licks.

“That you’re good with her tongue.”

“She said that?”

“She said a lot of things. But mostly it was about how she didn’t know just how good receiving oral could be until you did it to her.” Hearing that was a major confidence boost, but also made me think about how the second she and Jihoon break up, I am going to wreck that girl. Just take multiple days off of work, and do things to her that would make her forget about every guy she’d ever dated. But until then, I had Yuna to please.

“Well, I guess I have a lot to live up to then,” I said as I moved two fingers inside of the idol and began rubbing and feeling for that G-spot. While Yeji had tried to hide her pleasurable moans at first, Yuna never did. It didn’t matter that we were in a house full of guests, that for all we knew could have all been right outside listening in, she moaned and acted as though we were in an empty home. And with each sound from her lips and movement from her body, it only encouraged me to do more, which made her react even more.

I had my tongue on her clit as I fingered her when she came. When I heard her orgasmic moans, I pulled my face away to watch her reaction to climaxing. Seeing Yuna’s O-face was one of the most erotic face I’d ever seen in my life. When she recovered and opened her eyes to see me looking down at her, she sprung upright and wrapped an arm behind my head to pull me in for a kiss. My face was still sloppy wet with her pussy juices. The two of us made out, me on my knees and her sitting up. As we kissed, my hand traveled to her handful sized arrest and I could feel her hard nipple pressing through the fabric of her top. I kept feeling up Yuna as we kissed until she suddenly pulled away. She didn’t say anything, but she had a big happy smile on her face as she reached behind her back and untied her bikini and ripped her top off completely. She now laid on the bed fully nude.

“Gezz Yuna, it there any part of you that isn’t immaculate?” I asked as I studied her small breasts that were incredibly perky.

“Speaking of immaculate,” Yuna said as she reached down and took hold of my cock. “Feels like someone is ready to go again.”

“Oh, I’ve ready to go since the last round ended, I just wanted to make sure I got a chance to taste your pussy before we got too far along.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it,” she said as she stroked me.

“It was better than I dreamed it would be.”

“You’re such a sweet talker,” she said and then pulled me down to her for a kiss. After breaking the kiss, she told me, “Now roll over, I want to ride this beast.”

I pushed off my shorts and laid on my back, and Yuna quickly pounced on top of me. My hard cock desperate for attention as she straddled me with her pussy just barely hovering over me. She looked down at me, and move her dangling hair back behind her. She bit her lip for a second as we just looked at each other, then she suddenly dropped down and let out a grunting moan as her pussy was once again stretched out by my hard cock.

“Don’t move,” she told me, as she bent down to kiss me. She did not move her hips at all as we made out for the first few minutes. Instead, she just soaked while we kissed. She felt to warm, wet and tight while wrapped around my cock, and the feeling only got better as she began to move her hips. Her lips were still attached to mine while she rolled her hips along my shaft. She let out a moan as my hands went to her breasts and began playing with her sensitive hard nipples. Eventually I just pulled her forward so that I could suck on her tantalizing nipples.

She moved slowly for a while, really drawing things out as she rode me, but as time passed, she began moving faster. And as her orgasm started to build, Yuna began moving her body faster and faster. Eventually, sitting up straight and putting her hands down on my chest for leverage. Her eyes locked in on mine for the next several minutes until she was on the brink of climax. When it finally hit her eyes went wide and as did her mouth. Yuna stopped moving and let out a long loud moan as she came once again. She closed her eyes and her hands move up her breast and she squeezed her nipples a bit as orgasmed. As the sensation started to die down, she slumped down and kissed me once again. Even when she stopped kissing me, she remained on top of me, with her hands brushing against her hard nipples.

“Can we switch to doggy,” I asked between kisses.

“You tired of kissing me?” She said, pulling away sounding disappointed.

“What? No,” I replied defensively. “I’ve just spent a lot of time today admiring your ass that…”

“I’m messing with you,” she said playfully with a smile. “You’re not the first guy who's wanted to check out my ass as we have sex.”

Yuna then got off him, and got onto her hands and knees. Moving behind her, I was greeted to the immaculate site of her nude ass on full display for me, and depending on the angle I looked I could all see her wet pussy peeking out underneath, begging to be penetrated once again. I reached out and gave both her cheeks a few nice had squeezes before moving my hands to her hips. Once again, I have an initial hard deep thrust, during my cock inside of her which she seemed to love.

I knew I was not going to last too much longer as soon as we started doggy, but I Madde the most of the experience. Admiring her great ass, and taking in the site of how her ass shook with each time I thrust into her. I made sure to also reach under her and I alternate between playing with her nipple and her clit while railing her from behind. Yuna also did not help me stay under control as she moved her body as well. Rolling her hips so her whole body seemed to move in a wave with her ass pushing back to me each time to meet my cock as I pushed forward. I could only hold out for so long before I could not hold back any longer.

“If you wanted me to finish inside you before, you’re about to get your wish,” I told her.

“Umm, yes do it,” she moaned, but then suddenly she changed her mind and yell, “Wait! No! Don’t!” Yuna then quickly spun around and faced me. Or more to the point, faced my cock. “Do it on my face,” she told me.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I love it,” she replied. Hearing that Yuna loved receiving facials was mind-blowing, and I was all too willing to acquiesce to her request. I gave my shaft a few strokes, and that it was all it took before I began firing ropes of jizz all over the most beautiful face I’d ever seen. Yuna looked to be very happy when I finished with streaks of cum all across her face. She then asked, “How do I look?”

“Sexy as fuck,” I replied honestly. “Though, what caused the change of heart on where you wanted me to cum?”

“I remembered Yeji said you went down on her for over a half an hour when you two got together, and I wanted to see if I could get you to double that for me.”

“Oh, I’d be more than will,” I told her. “But we should probably go to your place or mine if we’re going to do that.”

“Good call,” she said and then gave me a kiss on the cheek. Some of my own cum pressed on my face when she did so. She then got up and made her way to the bathroom attached to the bedroom, but as she did so, she passed a mirror. She momentarily stopped in front of the mirror and looked at her cum covered face. She gave a quick kissy face pose to the mirror followed by another silly tongue out pose, before continuing on to the bathroom to get clean up.

When she came out of the bedroom I was fully dressed and just sat back and admired her naked body as she walked around the room collecting her bathing suit before putting it back on.

“Ready to go?” She asked.

“I’m ready to follow that beautiful ass wherever you want to go.”

She then reached out and took my hand and we waked towards the bedroom door together. Just before opening the door, she said, “Then come on, let’s go to my place and do some stuff that will cause Yeji to finger herself raw after I tell her about it.”

[yandere-kokeshi]

— it's mate

Pairing: yandere tentacle-monster x gn reader

Summary: coming home angry from a bad day at work, you started to have fun with yourself. But some tentacles under your bed also wanted to join.

Warnings: yandere behavior, cursing, and smut: mention of dildo’s, reader watches porn from phone (that's soon forgotten), masturbation, slight choking, tentacles (DUH), anal, creampie in all ends (;)), and hints at eggs. 

Sighing softly, you dropped your bags from work as you entered your home, the exhaustion of the day at the office weighing heavy on your shoulders. 

Your dickbag of a boss, Jared, was an idiot. Blaming you for things that were out of your control. Treating you differently than the rest of your team. Teasing too far and being too touchy for comfort. What an ignorant prick. 

It was irritating just thinking about him. 

Watching his ‘unique’ hair toss back, dye a colorful green, and flaunt it like it’s the most amazing thing. Oh, and let’s not forget about the horrible smell of cigarettes. The sharp cologne was worse. 

Gagging was a good way of describing him.

You weren’t hungry. Eating soup at lunch was fulfilling, but you were fulfilling something else. Something more… private. 

Walking into your bedroom, you sluggishly undressed yourself, throwing the dirty clothes onto the floor as you reached for your t-shirt. But you hesitated, stopping in your tracks before, knowing full well you don’t need it. 

It was a long day, and you deserve a treat. A good treat, that’s for sure. 

You flopped on your bed, a sizzling warmth of desire swirling in your stomach. You were unsure where the urge came from, considering that nothing — not even your favorite dildos were in sight to tempt you. 

But it was still there, and it needed to be satiated. 

The soft comforter tickled your bare legs, making you bite your lips. You snaked your hands up your stomach to your chest, fondling your now-hardened nubs. It sent chills down your spine, but it wasn’t satisfying your needs. 

You reached beside you, unlocking your phone with swift fingers, and began your search; the reliable porn site you used all the time when days were too rough. 

Quickly finding an appealing video, one that you knew would get you off, you pressed it — feeling your thighs clench uncontrollably at the excitement. 

As the video continued, you chewed your lips and snaked your hand underneath your laced underwear; feeling wetness pile. Your head falls back into your pillow, your fingers barely grazing your hole.

You felt your entire body flush. Electricity sends signals down your legs and into your sex. Within seconds, one of your hands went up to fondle your sensitive nipples. Gripping at them, you swirled a finger around your areola. 

Goosebumps rode over you. 

Gasping, you stroked your hole before entering it — slowing the pace as stretching, slight pain came, then quickening it another second later as pleasure and hotness envelops you. 

“Fuck–” you rasped out, pleasure shooting through you and the rope in your abdomen tightening; a clear sign of your closeness. 

Your phone slid beside you, the voices and sounds turning you on more than ever. You quickened the pace of your rubbing, swirling your juices in your sex with your two fingers. 

Suddenly, a faint feeling — a sliding, wet object wraps around your ankle, yanking it closer to the edge. Even with your fingers, you were too occupied with wanting to finish. But yet, something else joined in. 

Black tentacles rose from under your bed, connecting to your ankles and going up your body with a weird sensation: a cold, slick but hot touch. It was pleasing. Odd. Enjoyable nevertheless. 

Cursing out, you turned your gaze down towards your bare legs, seeing black tendrils gripping your ankles. Realization hit you like a bat, and you snatched your legs up, scrambling to sit upright. 

But the darkness grew bigger – pooling around your legs, dragging your form down slowly as they gripped your thighs, skin pulling at the sounds of suction cups pulling at them. 

It was pleasant, fulfilling, just like your desire. Despite your racing heart.

It made no sound, but the pressure increased until your legs parted willingly, and you lay back against your pillow. Yet, you let out a surprised gasp – feeling a black tendril immediately coming up and gripping your neck. 

The thick appendage swirled around your face, pulsing in a way as it was leaving a type of sticky substance onto your cheek — It stopped at your mouth, almost asking for consent before forcing it into your parted lips.

You gagged, but mewled as an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body, right under your skin like thunder. 

Cool and insistent, the pleasure seemed to touch you everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Something purred loudly from the blacks of your room. But you couldn’t pay attention to the almost-ancient voice. 

The tentacle in your mouth began to pump slowly, moving further down your throat. You gagged loudly, and when you tried pulling it out, the slick but hot-to-touch skin rose a large growl from the abyss of your room — the sound echoing itself into your very soul. 

You found yourself mewling in seconds. The thick, iridescent tendril between your legs started to tease you; purring loudly, as if it was enjoying your tensed body and gagging state. 

First heat then cold prickled your skin from the inside, all the while the creature remained between your bent legs. 

You knew you should be afraid, yelling for help, but it felt so good. You were so wet.

Then, what felt like a thick, serpentine tongue lapped curiously around your sex, tasting you, before the very tip pressed against your hole and you yelped. That same numbing, tingling, intense hot and cold, almost like when you tasted alcohol for the first time, began to swirl around your hole, tracing the lines of your puffed sex, and finally dipping inside you.

You moaned in pleasure, toes curling, as the creature moved rhythmically in and out of you, licking over your nipples when it pulled out, then returning the pressure to your inner walls until you were dripping and shuddering. 

It seemed to like it when you moaned, pushing deeper and gripping your thighs with its strange, tentacles which joined in your other hole.

“More…” breathed a deep and echoing voice, the walls of your room itself echoing the demand. 

You were stuffed in each way. 

The tentacle in your mouth started to jerk quickly, the tentacle slapping against your chin with every thrust. You moaned, feeling pleasure sweeping through you, you wanted to say more. Please give me more. But you couldn’t. 

Not when you’re stuffed to the brim. 

Spit dribbled down your chin. Numbing your skin as it face-fucked you; the movements becoming uneven, and the creature, somehow, groaning in a non-English language. 

“Such a pretty thing…”

The voice rang in your ears, your throat bulged as a muffled scream erupted from you — feeling pulsing ropes coiling around your arms, legs, and thighs; wrapping each of your limbs tightly and spreading you wider as you rose faster to your needed climax. 

Suddenly, an intense pleasure like nothing you had ever experienced swept through you, starting from your sex and sweeping up your body under your skin like electricity. 

And with that, the length, deep-throating you, sent hot strings of fluid down your throat; coating your tongue with salty, but delicious fluid that was entirely making you crazy. 

“Yesss….” came the echoed voice, one tendril tightening around your leg as another was playing with your nipples, “Swallow us whole, pretty human.”

Your eyes were watering, as you swallowed the continuous hot, thick fluid down your tightening throat. You couldn’t breathe, all your holes being used.

Seconds went by, and before you know it, the creature slid itself out of your abused throat — you let out a low-pitched whine, not only at the fact of not finishing, but wanting to continue.

Your struck nerves were going through the roof, and the creature was enjoying it.

“No need to be upset,” the creature cooed, “You’ll soon finish. Just need to prepare for the breeding process, mate.”

The voice hummed as your eyes widened. But, it left with no room for questioning or begging, because when it said that, you were quickly repositioned — you now being on your stomach, face being squished against your pillow, and feeling a rope slithering down your sleek back. Assuring you as to what’s about to come. 

Your heart lurched as you felt something much larger, thicker, took the place of the thin tentacle, the head testing against your entrances until your spine arched, and you moaned loudly against the writhing darkness around you. 

Then, in one brutal motion, it seated itself inside you. 

Its lengths filled you, and something pressed against that spot as its movements crescendoed, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

You moaned shamelessly, “Yes–! More!” 

The surrounding air got warmer, the movements behind you slightly rougher as each tentacle took turns — one going in, another going out, and vice versa. 

“All ours.”

The growls it revealed sent shivers into your soul. And you were taking everyone like a whore. 

Pleasure like you’ve never felt before swept through you, and you bit into the sheets, moaning like a good ol’ breeder as drool smeared across your hot skin. Strong, and thick tentacles surrounded your waist, arms, and thighs as it pounded into you faster as it growled loudly. 

And finally, you broke. 

You came with a scream, back arching, hips lifting, and hands gripping the wet sheets. Your body spasmed, the rope in your stomach snapped, and the fire spread along your body; sending you over the edge.

“You take us so well — sooo tight.”

And with that, the creature climaxed — hot, thick, and filling cum filled you to the prim. Many tentacles nuzzle your neck, jaw, and help pull your sweaty hair out of your forehead. 

It purred as the fluid filled you still. You felt the tentacles still pleasuring you, sliding in and out of your spent holes at a tortuously slow speed. Even though you were full, you felt hot liquid dribble down your thighs and onto the bed. 

The creature chuckled, a slimy-like tongue licking your sweat. It seemed to enjoy your taste.

“We promise to provide the best treatment for you – after all, we are not done.”

You didn’t say anything, even though you wanted to. You simply allowed exhaustion to wash over you, claiming you instantly as your eyes fluttered closed. 

The next morning, the birds chirping and the morning light shining in your room, you grunted at your sore body. Still feeling the same hotness as you felt before. At first, you were so sure it had to be a dream.

But as you looked down, seeing circled hickeys stained onto your skin, and the sheets stained with liquid, it proved you wrong.

Before you could get up, and use the bathroom to clean yourself up from the very messy night — you felt a thick appendage wrap around your ankle, yanking you back into the bed. And before you could speak, something beat you to it.

“Didn’t we tell you we are not done? We need you as our personal mate.”

Goosebumps rose, and the very ache inside you throbbed. 

Before long, you were at it again — all your holes used, your ass and main hole used as breeding grounds as your mouth was used as a bucket holder. And yet, you couldn’t ask for more than a perfect thing. 

You couldn’t say anything, your voice was worn out too long ago that you had forgotten. 

And yet, just as you placed your hand on your belly, hours already passed as a small tentacle affectingly swirled against your fingers, you felt your tummy quite larger; a hint of its impregnating grounds already working. 

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

© yandere-kokeshi 2023 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

Tags: @finleyrambles , @juciybeef. @valeriasbaby ,

[crushmeeren]

Bakugou/Fem Reader/Kirishima

❥ All characters aged up/18+.

Master List Link

❥ Warnings; dirty talk, pussy eating, blowjobs, fingering, squirting, vaginal sex, Eijirou stuffs you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Don’t be such a pussy. You know you can fucking do it, so do it.” Katsuki isn’t asking you. He’s demanding you. His jaw’s clenched tight and he speaks with a tone that says his patience is running thin.

Unfortunately for him, the harsh pep talk doesn’t quite motivate you the way he wants. You know it’s his way of being encouraging, but his efforts fall flat.

“Fuck off Kat.” It’s hard to speak when you’re panting so heavily. “God! I wish Ei was here,” you hiss crossly, gritting your teeth. Your sweat covered palms slip over your bare knees as you bend in half, desperately gulping down air, heart rate erratic.

Katsuki clicks his tongue behind his teeth, laughing. Which really sounds more like he’s mocking you as he taps his foot impatiently.

Clearly he’s not offended by your nasty comment.

“Why? So he can baby your ass?” He taunts meanly, lifting his chin up to stare down at you. He crosses his arms over his tank top covered chest, sitting up straight on the workout bench across from you as he stretches a leg out in front of himself. You throw an icy glare his way, choosing to ignore the jab for your own peace of mind.

Standing upright, you use the bottom of your muscle tank to wipe off the metric ton of sweat pouring down your face. The scent of your shirt is overwhelming and gross, causing your nose to wrinkle in distaste.

You’ve been at the gym with Katsuki for two hours. Two grueling, lactic acid filled hours.

The gym at Eijirou and Katsuki’s agency is relatively quiet and secluded, with all the equipment you could ever hope for. It’s a perfect place to focus on your lifting without distractions. So naturally, Katsuki woke up deciding today was the mother of all days to work on one rep maxes.

You’re both off work. Ei is out on patrol — so Katsuki can push, bully you into lifting as much weight as he wants. Which Katsuki swears it’s so you can’t run to Eijirou with “big ass doe eyes” and a pout whenever you get tired and want to go home.

So, here you are, stuck with Katsuki. He’s already hit a new PR and you’re working on yours. You’ve failed this weight three times already, and you could put your fist through the wall you’re so pissed off. Your glutes are on fire. Your hamstrings are on fire. Your lower back is on fucking fire.

Still, your boyfriend is ruthless. With his snarky attitude, it doesn’t take long for you to reach your boiling point.

“Kaaaat,” you whine, dragging out his name until he rolls his eyes. “I can’t do this today. Please, I just - I wanna go home. I wanna see Ei.” Tears of frustration start to sting and well up in your eyes and you sniff, adjusting the strap of your lifting belt tighter, avoiding Katsuki’s gaze.

An exasperated albeit fond sigh hits your ears. You take to fiddling with the hem of your stretchy biker shorts, irritated in your own lack of ability.

It sits in your chest like a lead balloon.

The bench protests as Katsuki rises from his seat, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Adamantly staring at a crack in the black mats that make up the floor, shifting from foot to foot.

You listen to his quiet footsteps approaching until suddenly black lifting shoes fill your vision.

Gently, a thumb and forefinger grip your chin. Katsuki tilts your head until you’re meeting his warm yet intense ruby red stare.

You deflate, becoming putty in his hold.

“Baby,” he begins, gruff voice infinitely softer now. “You are going to fucking lift this weight. You’re stronger than you know.” He’s overly confident, as normal.

Your lower lip wobbles, heat creeping up your neck and burrowing into your cheeks.

As infuriating as he can be, he’s no doubt your biggest supporter, fan, etc. Not counting Eijirou.

Katsuki’s unwavering belief in you sends goosebumps crawling up your sweat soaked arms. It ultimately convinces you to try again. You wrap your fingers around the wrist helping support your chin, feeling his steady pulse thudding.

“One more time and then we can go home?” You ask reluctantly. His lips curl into a smug grin realizing he’s won you over. Playfully, Katsuki shakes your head side to side, grip tightening on your chin.

“Yeah whatever,” he relents, rolling his eyes. “Ya know, if you hit this, I’ll give you a reward,” he says nonchalantly, trailing his hand down to snake around your throat with a barely there pressure.

“What kind of reward?” You eye him suspiciously. Although, you’d be remiss to deny the anticipation his words bring.

He leans into your personal space, smirking like the Cheshire cat. It gives you a close up of the golden brown freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose.

The air between you sparks dangerously. Warm like the left over embers of a bonfire.

“How bout, I eat that cunt till you’re squirting all over my face, yeah?” He purrs, squeezing your throat a bit harsher.

You grab his tank top with both hands, inhaling sharply. Katsuki’s tone of voice, his words - your entire body flashes hot within the second. “Oh?” You squeak out, trying to ground yourself while you’re this close to him.

Katsuki pushes in until his soft lips brush your ear lobe, tickling you pleasantly. He slips two fingers into the top of your lifting belt, tugging you to his chest.

“Fuck yes. I’ll get you so soft, so goddamn pliant, that Ei will just slip right into your pussy when he gets home,” he whispers huskily.

“Oh god,” you groan, letting your forehead thump onto his collar bone. You fist his shirt until your knuckles are white, a blistering heat gathering in your belly.

Katsuki snickers, placing a kiss to your jaw and pulling back to force your head up, leveling his gaze with yours. “C’mon baby, you know how much Ei loves that. So, why don’t you be a good girl, hit this lift and let me take your ass home.”

With that he’s gone. Leaving you to soak in the offer, causally making his way back to the bench. Your hands linger mid air where they held his tank top, blinking rapidly as you watch him — mind blown, shattered, melted.

He sends you a pointed look to say “hurry the hell up”, resting his left hand on the seat to hold his weight.

You breeze through your personal record the very next try.

One steamy, rushed shower later — you’re spread open wide, entirely bare and resting on your back. The cool sheets on your bed helping to soothe your sweltering skin.

You’re not alone. Katsuki’s naked too, comfortably laid out on his belly between your thighs. He’s lazily pumping two fingers in and out of your drooling pussy, paying close attention to the lewd way you suck him in. Your yearning, insatiable, cunt strangling every coherent thought from his head besides the stunning view in front of him.

Katsuki reaches up to take hold of your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. He runs his thumb over your palm, keeping your focus trained on him, and casually rests your conjoined hands on the mattress near your hip.

Your low moan pierces the air when Katsuki sinks his canines into the delicate skin on your inner thighs. He gazes up at you through long blonde lashes while he marks you with dark reddish purple hickeys all over.

They ache and sting, pulsating dully, each new bite causing your pussy to flutter. It steals your breath away, the way he’s taking you apart.

Yet, you’re getting restless, squirming in the blonde’s hold. By now you’ve already sent a salacious video of you deep throating Katsuki’s cock to the red head.

Drool and precum had been dripping down your chin, cheeks flushed and eyes half lidded for the camera as you dragged your lips up his cock. Katsuki’s rasping moans decorated the background, hips rolling shallowly to meet your mouth. The two of you obviously played it up, wanting to seduce Eijirou, to tempt him into getting home quicker.

You’re proud to admit it works almost too well.

He instantly replied he’d be home in 20 minutes. That was about 15 ish minutes ago. You’ve already been made to cum twice since then.

Katsuki had let his release spill down your throat right after he clicked send on the video. Now he’s currently inching you towards a third orgasm.

You’re aware Katsuki’s going to make you squirt this time. The slight fullness and pressure building in your bladder is a telling indicator.

He’s also trying to his damndest to stretch this out until Eijirou gets home, craving for the red head to be his captive audience. You share his desire, longing for your currently absent boyfriend to just be here already. You desperately want Eijirou to fold you into a pretzel.

Nevertheless, it’s exhilarating how sweetly Katsuki’s treating you for the time being. He’s normally a bit rougher so this tender side of his is turning you to a pile of mush.

Slim fingers curl up into your sweet spot, stroking it lovingly, and it sends a warm shiver snaking down your spine. Your back bows off the bed with something similar to a keen falling from your lips.

“Katsuki!” You cry out his name. It sounds as sinful as a curse and as holy as a prayer, free hand bunching the silky sheets up in pleasure, skull digging into the mattress below.

“Yeah that’s right. Your pussy feels fuckin’ amazing, doesn’t it princess?” He purrs, tone almost patronizing, but he can’t hide the underlying simmering heat coloring his voice. His soft lips plant a kiss over your swollen clit and your blood buzzes.

“So — ah! So f-fucking good Kat,” you babble, eyes falling shut. It’s irresistible, the pull you feel to roll your hips in time with his thrusts. You’re almost feverish from it all, cheeks so scalding steam may as well be rising from them.

You cling to Katsuki’s hand even more while he edges your orgasm to the surface, intermittently kitten licking your puffy clit. You tilt your head, glancing down at Katsuki with half lidded eyes, slack jawed. He keeps his leisure pace, stretching the rubber band of your climax to its limit.

The blonde’s expression mirrors yours. Dilated pupils, red blossoming brightly over his cheeks and down his throat — lids so heavy they’re almost closing.

His stare is laced with a rabid want that you recognize all too well, and the sight of him occasionally rocking his hips down into the mattress sets your nerve endings alight.

It’s obscene, the way he chases relief for his obviously aching, full cock, smearing precum along the sheets below. He never fails to become drenched when he’s so badly turned on.

You stare briefly at the ceiling, knowing it’ll be over immediately if you keep leering at him. You’re already on the cusp of cumming. The slow, sweet buildup of it making your heart pound brutally behind your rib cage.

Katsuki rips a high pitched wounded noise from your throat when he suckles on your clit again, your free hand darting out to tangle and twist his soft blonde hair.

A fresh wave of goosebumps light up over your arms, a thrill racing through you as he devours you. Instinctively you cross your ankles over Katsuki’s upper back, huffing as your tits heave with the rise and fall of your breath.

You try to warn him, open your mouth to tell him you’re about to cum — but you’re interrupted by your bedroom door swinging open.

Katsuki halts his movements, your orgasm fading into the background as both your heads snap towards the direction of the door. You don’t have time to be upset about it because finally your other boyfriend is home.

Eijirou stands there in street clothes, broad shoulders filling up most the doorframe. His red hair hangs loosely, framing his face. The ends are dripping, remnants of a quick shower he must have taken at the agency.

Eijirou wolf whistles. “Well damn! What did I do to deserve walking in on a sweet treat like this?” Eijirou teases, crossing his arms and leaning his shoulder on the doorframe.

“Ei! You’re ho—oh fuck!” You begin to greet him but cry out when Katsuki brushes the pads of his fingers over your g-spot intentionally, startling you.

You untangle yourself completely from the blonde, leaning up and bracing your weight on your elbows. You shove at the blonde’s shoulder with your heel, half heartedly scowling at him.

Katsuki snickers, pillowing his cheek on your squishy thigh and slyly looking over to Eijirou. He looks quite seductive, scarlet eyes full of mirth. Eijirou laughs delightedly at the playful display, the sides of his eyes crinkling when he beams at you both.

“Oi, quit fucking around Ei. Take your damn clothes off and get your ass over here.”

You smoothly join Katsuki in egging the other on. “Yeah Eijirou, been waiting a lifetime for you to come home. Katsuki wants to put on a show for you.”

Katsuki barks out a laugh, wanting to deny it, but he can’t.

“Okay! Okay, I’m hurrying,” Eijirou giggles, cheeks turning a soft peachy pink. He wastes no time disrobing, pulling down the zipper of his hoodie to reveal he’s wearing nothing underneath. Eijirou ignores the over the top catcalls you both throw his way, mumbling under his breath and pretending he doesn’t love it.

He sheds the jacket, dropping it carelessly to the floor as he makes his way to the side of the bed. He slips out of his sweats just as shamelessly.

You watch Eijirou’s already half hard cock twitch when you reach out for him. He eagerly accepts it, kneeling on the bed next to your head. You look up at him adoringly, lips turning up into a smile that makes the apples of your cheeks twinge.

“Hi Ei, we missed you,” you croon, affectionately squeezing his hand.

In response, he bends down to give you a sweet kiss in greeting. It’s brief, but makes you feel like you’re bathed in sunshine either way. He pulls back, a question clearly on his lips.

“Wanna sit in my lap baby? I’ll get the best view of you that way,” Eijirou offers, entirely serious. He shuffles until he can sit behind your head, bracing his back on pillows and the headboard.

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” You scoot backwards until you’re able to slot in between his wide spread thighs, resting your own sticky back along his chest. As you do so, Katsuki chases you, inching forward, never letting his fingers leave the searing heat of your pussy.

“Oh fuck,” you laugh breathlessly, taking note of their presence. You tighten around him greedily, desire burning you to ash.

“Oh princess, look at you. Even more fucking needy now that Ei is home,” Katsuki comments meanly, digging his thumb into your puffy clit as he settles in his new spot.

A weak yelp leaves you at how sharp the sensation becomes. You feel the rumble of Eijirou’s laughter as it vibrates throughout his chest.

“Maybe I just want to cum,” you chide him. “You’ve been edging me forever.”

Katsuki doesn’t respond, just grins like he’s won the lottery, a bit manic, and sets a borderline violent, relentless pace.

The howl you produce is ear splitting. The sudden dynamic shift begging your spine to bend but Eijirou quickly cages you in. He wraps his thick biceps around your stomach, hooking his chin into the muscle just behind your collarbone.

“Be good,” Eijirou warns. “You wanted this yeah? Then let Kat do what he wants.”

You scramble to lock onto his forearms, nails dragging angry lines over his skin. You obediently nod along with what he tells you, starting to get the impression your skin is too tight to fit over your bones.

Your body bounces in time with Katsuki’s motions and the razor sharp points of Eijirou’s teeth threaten to pierce the delicate flesh of your shoulder.

Mercifully, your orgasm comes on like a freight train. In less than a minute to be exact.

Katsuki bullies your g-spot with a precision only he could possess, flicking his tongue over your clit in a steady up and down rhythm. Pleasure pulses white hot in your pelvis, threatening to prickle out all over your waiting body.

“Oh. Oh, I’m gonna cum Kat! Ei, please, shit!” you curse, head spinning, not even sure what you’re begging them for.

“That’s it babygirl, we’ve got you,” Eijirou coos, tone a 180 from a couple minutes prior.

You’re wiggling in his iron clad grip, on the edge of exploding. One more push is all you need. The stifling heat of Katsuki’s mouth envelops your clit once more, sucking.

Your toes curl into the sheets, all the muscles in your lower half tensing as your climax rips you apart. You hold onto Eijirou’s forearms for dear life, molten lava gushing through your veins like a busted dam.

Katsuki pulls his mouth away with a wet pop, punishing you with each slippery glide of his fingers. You don’t think you can take much more, crossing into over sensitive territory. It doesn’t matter though, not with the looming pressure on your bladder giving without your permission.

“You’re so hot like this baby. Now fuckin’ squirt for me,” Katsuki snarls. Eijirou’s cock kicks where it’s trapped against your lower back.

It’s too easy to bend to his will.

You’re soaking the blonde’s chin and wrist before you know what’s happening, liquid running down to your ass. His head jerks back, briefly startled, before his eyes get wide. Katsuki slows, lolling his tongue out to lick his drenched lips for a taste. He moans, pink flush traveling down to his chest.

“No more,” you complain, hips stuttering as you push at his forehead. You try to catch your breath, coming down from the high and become boneless on Eijirou’s chest.

“Good job sweet girl, you did so well my love,” Eijirou murmurs in your ear. His breath tickles your cheek and you lean into him, letting the red head smooth his warm palm over your belly.

Katsuki slips his fingers free, biting the inside of his cheek when your pussy desperately tries to keep him from leaving you empty. He rises up, settling back on his calves, and admires how drenched his hand has become. He arches one pretty blonde eyebrow, smirking at his boyfriend.

“Want a taste of her Ei?” Katsuki teases, wiggling his fingers at the red head. Eijirou hums his agreement and Katsuki surges forward over you, dangling his dripping hand in front of Eijirou.

Katsuki’s cock, hot and heavy, brushes your lower belly. God, you just want to drag him down by his slim hips, flip him over and ride him until he sees stars.

But you don’t.

The deep seated desire for Eijirou to fold you in half wins out. You tilt your head up just in time to witness Eijirou’s pink tongue dart out for a taste. He trails his tongue up Katsuki’s fingers, dipping into the grooves between. You shudder, simultaneously moaning with the blonde.

“Ei,” you interject brokenly. “I need you to fuck me, now please.”

Eijirou’s boner jumps against your lower back. “I can totally do that,” Eijirou responds, playfully pushing at your back. You laugh, looking up at Katsuki expectantly as he continues to hover over you.

“Yeah whatever I just wanna watch Ei fuck you silly,” he says with a wink. You swallow and it’s like your throat’s been lined with cotton balls. Katsuki retreats, loosely circling his fingers at the base of his cock and squeezing for some relief.

“C’mon Ei, I’ve been waiting for you all day,” you giggle, sliding down until you’re flat on your back again. You plant your feet on the bed, allowing your legs to fall open as wide as they’ll go.

“I won’t make you wait any longer baby,” Eijirou assures. He crawls down as Katsuki moves upwards, effortlessly switching places. Katsuki’s knees bracket your head as he maneuvers until he’s comfortable. If you glance backwards you’ll be met with the view of the blonde’s cock and his partially obscured face.

“Ready pretty girl?” Eijirou paws at the squishy spots of your thighs, inching close enough until he can part the lips of your pussy with his shaft. The pink head bumps teasingly into your clit, a jolt of pleasure startling you. You nod eagerly and bite into your lower lip.

Eijirou uses his thumb to angle his cock down to where your warmth waits to greet him, to suck him in like a vice. To clamp down around him until his brain is fuzzy.

He barely dips the head of his cock in once, twice — before finally applying enough pressure his tip fully pops in. The initial stretch makes you shiver, and as he fills you with the rest of his cock, you start to tremble.

Your pussy doesn’t offer even a hint of resistance.

You wheeze out his name when he bottoms out. Eijirou’s blunt nails leave indentations on the backs of your thighs as he pushes them a bit more towards your chest. His grip is bruising, licking his lips as he concentrates on being still so you can adjust.

You look down to where you’re connected, fists clenched in the sheets by your sides and your pelvis throbs briefly from just how big his cock is. Eijirou grabs your attention with a strangled sound, and your gaze flickers to his impatient expression. You nod, giving him the go ahead.

He runs with it, proceeding to carve out a space inside you just for himself. Glazed over eyes flutter briefly as your pussy pulses, choking his cock, and his lips part slightly, eyes glued to where you’re swallowing him. Eijirou rolls his hips, pulling back and thrusting in with a singular fluid motion, slowly working up to a rougher, faster pace.

Katsuki curses from somewhere behind you, voice low and ragged as he tells you just how “fucking pretty” you look taking Ei’s cock. You echo the sentiment, praising the red head as he shifts around on his knees and thrusts harder.

Eijirou whimpers, taking your ankles and lifting until your knees hook over his shoulders. He bends you in half, placing his hands by your head. A moan is punched out of your chest and you grasp as his shoulders, the jarring sensation of feeling like his cock is in your belly making you whine.

“Eijirou, holy shit! Please — don’t stop!” you beg, voice edging on a sob. Katsuki hisses in pleasure behind you, the slick, wet sound of him jerking his cock burns your ears.

“Anything baby, whatever you want,” Eijirou says with a breathy sigh, fucking you hard enough to bounce your body with each thrust. The smack of his skin against yours spurs him on even further.

Your pussy chases his cock every time he pulls back, not letting him go for a second. He fucks you until you feel high, and when you get impossibly tighter — he knows you’re cumming.

Eijirou talks you through it, because of course he does. He drags out your orgasm as long as he can, a drop of sweat falling from the tip of his nose into the valley between your tits. He admires the way your body releases all its tension as you come down from the high.

“Good girl, you cum so beautifully for me,” Eijirou praises. “I’m gonna cum inside you okay?” He’s panting as he moves, clearly hanging on by a thread.

“Cum for me Ei,” you murmur, trailing your hands up and wrapping your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

Eijirou moans as you pull him down into a hungry kiss, attempting to eat him alive. He whimpers into your mouth, shoving his cock to the hilt in your pussy, and a new warmth blooms inside you as your boyfriend cums.

Eijirou wrenches his mouth from yours to gasp, jaw falling open as he rides out the last few pulses of his orgasm. A high pitched whine slices through the gooey atmosphere and you look backwards to witness Katsuki’s gorgeous face as he reaches his high.

His eyes pinch shut, the muscles of his neck straining as he tosses his head back on the headboard with a thump. He traps the tip of his tongue between his teeth, partially muffling the next moan he can’t control.

Eijirou hisses when your pussy involuntarily flutters around him, staring at the blonde squirming with pleasure. Katsuki’s shoulders drop as he relaxes, chest heaving. His stomach is covered in cum, as is his chest. There’s even some on his cheek.

Reluctantly, your attention snaps back to Eijirou when he gingerly pulls his softening cock free. Taking a moment to track the way his release sluggishly flows from you.

“Enjoying the view?”

Eijirou glances at you in surprise, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “I always do baby,” he coos.

“Fucking sap,” Katsuki snorts.

“Hey!” Eijirou protests. You laugh, reaching backwards to slap Katsuki’s ankle.

“Don’t listen to him Ei, he’s just as bad.” Playful banter consumes the three of you as you enjoy the relaxed atmosphere.

Eventually, you manage to clean yourselves up. You and Eijirou easily convince Katsuki to cook and fill your bellies with food. While you wait, you sit at island in your kitchen, happily retelling Eijirou how you got a new PR today at the gym.

You don’t leave out the way Katsuki used dirty tricks and promises of sex to persuade you, which makes Eijirou laugh loudly.

Katsuki just raises his middle finger over his shoulder in return, taking all the credit for your lift either way.