#talking about you like you can't hear them even when you're sitting right there

[lovelivision]

‎‎‎‎THE PRACTICE OF KISSING .𖥔 ݁ ˖

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎𐔌.pairing — geto suguru / reader

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎── word count: 10k

✿ summary... after getting asked on a date you feel insecure over your inexperience regarding kissing someone. telling your bestfriend geto about your concerns results in an offer from him you didn't expect

warnings.ᐟ ��─ 18+ only, smut, pwp, swearing, making out, dry humping, dirty talk, hickeys, biting, (light) nipple play, praise kink, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, orgasm denial (once), bsf!geto, virgin!reader, return of tease!geto, afab!reader, no use of pronouns !!

The state of your mind is currently a mess, feeling overwhelmed and staring off into space as you think about how a guy asked you on a date earlier today. You'd turned him down but only because you have a particular hang up you can't get over, hence the feeling overwhelmed. You’ve never gone out on a date before and you feel like you’re missing out, so you definitely would’ve said yes if you weren’t so unsure of yourself.

Geto's hand waves in front of your face, breaking you from your trance, "Are you even listening to me?"

Has he been talking? Damn, you really spaced out, "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"Not even a little bit," his gaze unamused.

You look away from him and to the poster behind his head on the wall, feeling sheepish, "Then no... sorry."

His frown deepens, legs uncrossing and scooting closer to the edge of his bed, "What are you thinking about so hard?"

"Not telling," you answer, spinning around in his office chair so that you’re facing away from him.

His desk is neat, everything organised and probably put exactly where it should be. Beside his monitor sits a little black cat figurine, one you had bought him not too long ago because it reminded you of him. Seeing it displayed makes you smile; he must like it.

Geto’s voice cuts through your small reverie, "So, you're not only going to ignore me, you're also not going to tell me what's wrong?"

Not even glancing back, you hum at him, "That would be a correct assessment... yes."

"Have I told you that you're annoying yet today?" He exasperates.

Shrugging, "I don't think so?"

"Oh? In that case, you're annoying."

"You're so mean to me; this is why I don't want to tell you what's wrong," you’re being dramatic but so is he.

A sigh leaves him, "If I promise to be nice will you tell me what's wrong?"

Your head flops onto the chairs headrest, jabbing at him jokingly, "I don't know if you're capable of kindness, Suguru."

"Now who's being mean? I'm nice all the time."

"Maybe to strangers..." You mumble out.

There’s no reply from him and for a second you think he’s going to leave the issue alone… that is until you’re suddenly spinning. His footsteps are always so light, you didn’t even hear him come up behind you. You’re facing him now, his hands holding himself up by the arm rests of his office chair. He’d spun you around just to lean down into your space and pointedly look at you.

Geto squints, “I’m nice to you all the time.”

“I don’t think this constitutes as ‘nice’.”

He groans your name, “Come on, you always talk to me when something’s wrong.”

“Maybe this is awkward for me to talk to you about,” you pout back at him.

His tongue clicks in realisation, “So, it’s about your love life?”

The immediate correct guess stumps you, causing you to sputter out, “What!? You have no way of–”

“–You never talk to me about your dates and you also got defensive so I’m guessing I’m right,” his gaze is even, unconcerned.

You huff at him and echo his earlier question, “Have I told you that you’re annoying yet today?”

“Yes, earlier when you almost fell over and I smiled,” he reminds.

Your response is a grimace and a matter-of-fact tone when saying, “I don’t tell you about my dates because I don’t go on them.”

“Ever?” Geto’s eyes widen slightly, clearly surprised by your confession.

Cementing back, “Ever.”

“People have definitely asked you out though.”

“Yeah but not that often because they always think we’re together,” you glare back at him.

A hand reaches for your face and squishes your cheeks between his fingers, “Don’t look at me like that, that’s not my fault.”

Your voice comes out all mumbled and difficult to understand, “It so is.” He rolls his eyes at you and you slap his hand away, “Stop squishing my face!”

Letting go, he sighs and takes a step back, sitting on the edge of the bed again, “Something about your love life is bothering you.”

Crossing your arms over your chest and looking to the side, you complain, “You’re so nosy.”

“Am not.”

What a liar, he’s always in your business. Though, now that you’re thinking about it, you don’t think he’s usually in other people’s business this bad. He does like hearing about the gossip you collect though, always ready to hear it while acting as though he doesn’t care.

There’s no reply you can think to give, so you give him the silent treatment. Still looking away from him and silently pouting, you can feel his eyes watching you, waiting for you to break. It’s a frequent game you start that he finishes, silently ignoring him while he watches and waits until you can’t take it anymore and tell him what’s on your mind.

A few more moments pass by and you already feel ready to give in, you hate how much more effective his silence is. Glancing at him from the corner of your eye, your gazes meet and you feel yourself folding all at once.

Large and exasperated groan leaving you as your shoulders slump back into the chair, “Fine!”

He perks up at your concession, a self-satisfied look on his face that irks you.

Looking at him properly to say, “I was asked on a date earlier today.”

The expression on his face changes to one of annoyance, like he’s not happy to hear that, “Who?”

“Some guy, you don’t know him,” you wave off, not really understanding why it matters to him.

Geto prods for more information, “…And what did you say?”

“…I said no.”

“Oh?” His reaction is indecipherable to you, “Why?”

This question is exactly why you didn’t want to talk about this, “I don’t know…” You’re lying, trying to avoid talking about this in more depth.

“Did you like him?”

“I didn’t not like him,” you shrug, “I would’ve liked to go out with him at least once but…”

“But…” He pushes.

“I don’t know, Suguru,” you scowl at your own reasoning, “I’ve never been on a proper date before, I don’t know what to expect or what’s expected of me. What if he wanted to kiss me or something?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, making you antsy while you wait for him to talk, “…Would you want to kiss him back?”

“Maybe?”

“I don’t think I’m understanding the issue,” his brows are pinched with his confusion.

You’re exhausted with him, like you aren’t the one being purposefully cryptic, “Am I gonna have to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ugh!” You kick your legs in a mini tantrum, “I’ve never properly kissed someone… it’s always been like… a peck, I don’t know? But what if he expected more of me?”

You can see the way he’s actively fighting against the smile threatening to break out on his face, “Is that–” he bites down an amused sound, “Is that why you always say no to dates?”

“I don’t like you very much right now,” you were already feeling silly and embarrassed and his clear joy from this is not helping that.

He pouts at you mockingly, “Don’t be like that, I can help.”

“How could you possibly help me with this?”

A smile comfortable on his face when he states, “I could teach you.”

“You want to teach me how to kiss?” You scrutinise him, “Have you gone insane?”

“You’re the one all hung up on this and I’m offering to help you,” he puts his hands up, “But if you’d rather be a dateless loser for the rest of your life–”

“–Hey!” You point at him, “Uncalled for… and rude!”

A very signature and very annoying, polite smile sits on his pretty features. Unbothered by your outburst at his very clear bait. He simply raises his arm and grabs the hand you had pointed at him, tugging you from the chair and into him on the bed. You’re taken aback by his bold move, so close to him so quickly. Falling into his lap less than gracefully, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady as you sit sideways between his legs.

You stutter out at him, “Wha– what are you doing?”

Letting go of your hand; he reaches for your face. His thumb stroking softly against your cheekbone, “Do you want my help or not?”

“What you’re basically asking me is if I want to kiss you,” you correct… because that is what he’s asking right now.

Geto’s head drops back slightly as he fights the urge to roll his eyes at you dramatically, hand resting on your outer thigh now, “Don’t be so pedantic. You have a problem and I’m offering to help fix it.”

A sound of disapproval slips from you at his wording, “I know the theory behind kissing someone, Suguru. What you’re offering is making out with me.”

“So?”

Your expression is dumbfounded, you know he’s not this dense, “You want to stick your tongue in my mouth and then go back to the usual?”

He leans in again, dodging your question with his own, “Do you want me to stick my tongue in your mouth?”

“Geto–”

“–Ouch–”

“–Shut up.” You cut him off, “If! We did this and I do mean if. Would you be able to look at me the same?”

“The same as I always have? Sure,” there’s no hesitation from him.

He seems so sure, like he’s not worried about what this might mean for your friendship at all. The easy-going look on his face is both pissing you off and relaxing you, emotions he’s always been able to pull from you.

His hand is large on your thigh and the way it makes you feel is not how you should feel for him. Mumbling out a small, “You’re annoying.”

An amused breath leaves him, “You’ve already told me that today.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you look up at him through your lashes.

“That’s kind of the point of this.”

“Right…” You can’t help but find yourself feeling nervous, embarrassed that you won’t be good enough. For some reason… you really want him to think you’re a good kisser.

He must take your silence as rejection because his tone is gentle when he says, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I know, I just…” You frown while looking at him, trying to figure out exactly what steps to take next, “I don’t know what to do now…” Geto’s face relaxes and a smile replaces his concern causing you to chastise him, “Don’t smile, it’s not funny!”

“No,” he agrees, “But it is a little cute.”

“Whatever, can we just kiss now?”

“Desperate?” He asks teasingly.

You deny it, “I just want you to stop talking.”

“Sure.” It’s all dragged out and has a teasing lilt to it. Damn him and his need to have the last word. You don’t reply to that and instead try to shuffle off him, thinking sitting like this would be awkward. His hold becomes firmer on you, “What are you doing?”

You’re confused, “Isn’t this position weird?”

“Makes it easier,” is all he says in reply.

Being sat between his spread legs, your own draping over one of them while he holds you doesn’t seem ideal. To you, this couldn’t be a more awkward position to be in for this. Instead of telling him that though, you settle back, “Alright…”

When you look back up at him properly, he’s already looking at you. There’s a funny feeling that runs through you at the look in his eyes. The hand on your thigh moves to your face again, cradling you as he leans in. Murmuring a soft, “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”

Just as he’s about to move all the way in, your hand covers his mouth, “Wait.” You stop him, your nerves getting the better of you, “What if… what if you don’t like kissing me?” He looks a little frustrated so you pull your hand away, giving him a chance to speak.

“Do you want me to like kissing you?”

You feel flustered by his question, “Why do you always answer my questions with a question?”

“Because your questions are interesting…” he pauses, “…And also, I like teasing you.”

“If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours.”

“Fine,” he indulges you, “I’m not gonna dislike kissing you so your question is dumb.”

“But you can’t know–”

He tuts you, interrupting what you were saying, “–You gotta answer my question now.”

You groan at him, “Well… yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ what?”

He’s such a smug bastard, “Yeah! Yeah I want you to like kissing me, Suguru.”

You’re huffy but he seems so pleased by your response. A serene and happy look on his face despite the tone you used. You find yourself waiting for him to say something more, something to tease you further but he doesn’t. He simply leans in again, taking you by surprise when his lips are softly pressing to yours. It’s short and sweet, more akin to a peck than anything else. Continuing to plant gentle kisses to your lips until you return them and then he lets them linger.

The feelings that run through you have you all tingly and hot, kissing your best friend for practice probably shouldn’t feel this good… right? You still don’t really know what you’re doing though, more just letting him kiss you than anything. When you part again, you murmur, “Suguru, I still don’t know what I’m meant to be doing.”

“Just follow my lead,” his eyes stay on your lips, now shiny from the shared kisses, “That’s all you gotta do.”

“But–”

His eyes roll when you go to argue more, “–Stop thinking so hard about it and let me kiss you.”

You can’t help but squirm slightly at that, “Okay.”

Satisfaction rolls off him in waves but thankfully for you he doesn’t comment any further, choosing to kiss you again. Instinctually, your hand reaches for his chest and grips onto his shirt, you need something to ground you.

Geto is taking this slow, he’s trying his best to be patient to savour this moment with you. He doesn’t want to push you too far too soon and have you stop whatever this is. If he were more sure of himself and where he stands with you, he’d have just asked you out like a sane person but he’s not sure and he didn’t want to pass on this opportunity.

He can feel this becoming something he covets, your soft lips on his, uncertain in your movements but so ready to be kissed by him. His heart pulls with a kind of possessiveness that’s not completely unfamiliar to him regarding you. The desire to not want anyone else to ever have this side of you overwhelming him.

It’s addictive, his kisses, his hold on you… him. You can feel yourself falling into him more, the longer you do this dance. You want more, you want him to kiss you more but you have no idea how to ask for that. Following his lead is good, it’s helpful but it’s starting to feel like he’s depriving you.

Pulling back, you force yourself to voice, “I want more…”

“Do you know what you’re asking for?” He sounds strained.

“You said you would teach me,” you remind. “So, teach me.”

His thumb presses into your jaw, “Open your mouth more then.”

Doing as he asks; he angles you just slightly before pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss fuller, his tongue licking into your mouth. It has a shiver running down your spine, the sensation new and mind numbing. It’s messier than before and so much more dizzying, you can’t even really keep up with his movements. Just letting him kiss you to his hearts content, feeling yourself getting drunk on his lips in the process.

You can’t even be sure if you’re doing this right but it doesn’t really feel like it matters, not when you’re this lost in it. Lips gliding against his, a small involuntary sound pulling from your chest at how he grips you tighter. Feeling like he gets impossibly closer, his kisses growing desperate the moment you whine into him.

Geto’s restraint is wearing thin, his desire for you growing tenfold at how you moan for him. He wants to touch you so much more, to put his hands on every part of you. The fear of ruining this moment keeps his hands planted firmly to your hip and cheek though and it’s killing him to not touch you more, more, more.

When you tentatively lick against his tongue he almost all but folds in that single moment, he feels so pathetically weak for you. So unsure of yourself and still trying to kiss him just as deeply as he is you. A guttural groan leaves him, a sound he’d be almost ashamed of if he didn’t notice the way you squirm at it.

You pull back from him and he can’t help but chase your lips, he doesn’t want to stop. An amused breath leaves you, “Hold on.”

He doesn’t understand what you need a moment for until you’re pulling his hands from you and moving to straddle him.  Your thighs resting beside him, he feels dizzy with need, the need to touch you, to undress you. To have you naked and straddling his lap just like this could make his whole year. His hands are on your hips, tugging you up his lap just slightly further, encouraging.

Going to sit on him, you notice his erection and gasp. Heat rising to your face, suddenly so conscious of how heated this exchange has gotten, “Maybe we should stop…”

It’s almost like it hurts him to hear those words, “Do you want to stop?”

You wish you weren’t so certain, so quick to immediately know that, “… No, I don’t.”

“That’s good…” he smiles, “Cause I’m not done teaching yet.”

And then you’re kissing again, wet and sloppy. He’s holding back less, depraved in how he sucks your tongue into his mouth, bolder now. Revelling in every twitch you make against him, every mumbled whine you let out.

Mindlessly, your hips lightly roll downwards and his resulting grip holds you so still against him. A debauched moan leaving him at your unexpected movements, parting his mouth from yours with it. Geto’s head tucks into your chest, controlling his breathing, like he might snap at any moment.

You feel a little frantic, like you might’ve hurt him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

“–Don’t– fuck– don’t apologise,” he can feel how warm you are through your pants and it’s making him feel feral.

Your fingers run through his hair, to comfort him, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He huffs an unamused sound, “The only thing hurting me is how badly I wanna stuff you full.”

“Sugu–”

“–I know you can feel just how hard I am,” he pulls his head back to look at you, eyes blown wide and dark, “I’m practically aching for you.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, “Suguru… are you some kind of closeted perv?”

The question makes him laugh, “Wanna find out?”

“You were only supposed to teach me how to kiss…”

“Mhm, and you’re doing great,” his nose traces along your neck, inhaling you, “I still have so much more knowledge to give though.”

“Don’t be so– hah!” He licks at your skin before latching his mouth to the side of your throat, the pressure making you fidget in his lap. You feel so sensitive, so much more than what you thought you would.

When Geto pulls back from the mark he’s made, he blows softly on it, enjoying the way you shudder on top of him. “‘Don’t be so’ what?”

That’s right you were going to say something, he looks really nice right now though… eyes lidded and cheeks just slightly pink, lips slick. What were you going to say to him? His grin only grows, taking satisfaction in your glazed eyes and struggle to think. Averting your gaze, you try to remember what you wanted to say. The break in eye contact short lived since he grabs your chin and pulls you back.

“Come on, pretty, what were you gonna say?”

The effect he’s having on you is becoming too much, “I was gonna tell you to not be so depraved!”

“Hmm…” His head quirks at you, “You seem to like it though?”

How presumptuous of him, “You can’t know that!”

“You know… the human body is really interesting, for example…” he looks down to where you’re sitting over his prominent erection, “You’re so incredibly hot against me that I feel like I’m going insane,” smiling back up at you evilly, “Just how wet are you?”

The possibility of fainting is very real all of a sudden, his question has you hot everywhere. “I jus– I just told you to not be so depraved.”

“Yeah and I ignored you,” he deadpans, ignoring your indignant sounds. “Do you want me to stop?”

Again, you hate how badly you don’t want to stop. Right now, you think you’d let him do just about whatever he wanted to you. “Promise not to tease me later?”

“You know I can’t promise that.”

You pout back at him, “Then I’m not gonna say what I was thinking.”

His curiosity is sufficiently piqued, “Fine, I promise to try not to tease you later.”

“That’s not good enough.”

He tries again, “I promise.” You both stay looking at one another for a moment before he adds, “That’s as good as you’re getting.” And you know it to be true.

How to say this without embarrassing yourself, “You can… you can touch me… however you want, Suguru…”

He feels like he’s gone into shock, “What?”

“Did you not hear me?”

“No… I heard you,” he can’t help the way his cock jumps in excitement, “I’m just double checking I heard you right.” He leans in to taunt, “You’re gonna let me touch you however I want?”

“You said you had more knowledge to share,” It’s a dangerous game that you’re both playing.

He breathes out, “And if I wanna touch you in a depraved manner?”

So certain in yourself when you reply, “I want to be touched in a depraved manner… by you.”

Ah, so you’re trying to kill him, is the conclusion that Geto has come to. A breathless laugh leaves him, “For practice?”

“Sure,” you give him the answer you think he wants, in reality you just want to desperately be touched by him. You don’t think you’ve ever been this turned on in your life and it’s all his fault.

An amused sound leaves him, “Hah– Don’t know if I believe your answer there…” his hands are on your hips, slowly dragging you over his dick. Biting his lip at the feeling, cock jumping when your breath stutters.

“Wait– wait,” your hands hold onto his and he stops moving you. Realising now that he might’ve gotten carried away, that he should’ve double checked again.

When you get off his lap and onto shaky legs Geto feels his heart drop, only for it to suddenly pick up speed when you’re shuffling your pants down and off. Crawling back onto him in your panties, he – shamefully – has to put so much focus into keeping calm, so worked up he could cum from this alone.

“Yeah…” you murmur back at him, placing yourself right over his erection again, gasping at how hard he is, at how much more you can feel even through the layers left on, “I lied just now.”

He wants to ask more; he wants to know what you lied about but if he thought you were hot before then he’s melting now. You’re sitting on his dick in the cutest little panties, already so drenched from making out with him that the affection he feels for you fills up his chest. He’s way too distracted right now to ask what he wants.

“Be honest,” it feels like a chore to rip his gaze away from your pussy, “Are you trying to kill me?”

Geto’s eyes are all glassy and blown, cheeks flushed as he implores you, like he’s worried you’re actually trying to kill him. He’s making you feel shy, “It’s your fault I’m acting like this.”

That has him feeling a little prideful, “Is that so?”

“Mhm,” you confirm.

“In that case,” he’s slowly dragging your heated core over his erection again, “Should I fix it?”

You nod your head at him, “…Yeah”

The shivers that run through you make you gasp, the drag over Geto’s dick feeling so much better without your pants on. And yet you can’t help but feel so greedy, a kind of need in your bones that you’ve not experienced before.

He takes his hands away from your hips and you stop moving, whining pathetically at him, “Why–”

“–Keep doing it yourself,” he encourages.

“But–”

“Just do it how it feels good, use me for a bit,” he grins, “I wanna watch you pleasure yourself on me.”

“You really are a perv,” you mutter back at him.

His retort is quick, “Say that to me when your pussy’s not drooling all over my pants.”

Your cunt jumps at his words, “Are you gonna be this crude the whole time?”

“I can be worse if you want?”

“I can’t stand you.”

“We both know that’s not true,” he looks pointedly down to where your cunt is pulsing hot against him. “Now do us both a favour and move,” he hisses out through clenched teeth, apparently nearing his limit.

“You’re so bossy,” you frown, “I’ve never…” You’re at a loss for how to phrase it.

“Dry humped someone before?” He finishes for you, “Though with how wet you are–”

“Shh!” You cover his mouth with your palm, “Stop… talking about how wet I am.”

He pulls your hand away, “You know, I’m not surprised you’ve never–”

“–You don’t have to say it again,” you cut him off.

He rolls his eyes, “You hadn’t even made out with someone, I’m just saying that I didn’t ask you to use me without knowing.” He holds the side of your face gently, “Stop worrying about it so much, I know already… that you’re a huge virgin.”

His gentle touch greatly contrasts his teasing words. He’s so evil to you, “This is why I say you’re not nice.”

“Do you want me to be nice? To tell you how pretty you are and how good of a job you’re doing?” The reaction you have is almost visceral, skin heating and looking away from him. Even more embarrassed when he chuckles at you, “Got a bit of a praise kink, hmm?”

“You’re making this difficult for me.”

“You should’ve just done what I asked then,” he shrugs easily.

If you thought holding out would punish him more than you, then maybe you’d just get off him and go home to get yourself off but you want him to make you feel good. So instead, you’ll just give in and hope he shows you mercy, though by how this is going, he doesn’t seem to be the type.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down into Geto and he huffs out a breath like he wasn’t expecting it. Your hands move to his shoulders for purchase, using the leverage you have there to grind down into him harder.

He holds onto your waist. Not moving you, just resting his hands there, “Oh fuck– no– hah– no warning?”

You shake your head at him, brows pinched as you focus on seeking your own pleasure, “You– hnn– wanted me to– hah– to do as you asked.”

His head falls back slightly at the pleasure, a lazy smile on his face, “That’s true.”

The longer you do this, the slicker his pants get, you’re so unbelievably wet that it’s coating the material obscenely. Geto is in awe of it, eyes fixed on where you’re rutting down into him, marvelling at the damp spot on his pants, at how drenched your panties are. So soaked that they’re practically a second skin, leaving nothing to the imagination with how it’s sticking to you.

He holds you still suddenly and the whine you let out is endearing, “Wait for a second,” he huffs.

Moving his hands to his belt to undo it, shuffling his pants down his legs. You lean up on your knees for a moment for him to drop them to his feet but before you can sit back down, his hand is holding you there. He runs the fingers of his other hand through your covered folds, a groan coming from the back of Geto’s throat.

“Seriously, you’re so fucking wet,” he reminds you.

“Sorry…”

He almost chokes, “‘Sorry?’” His fingers draw up to your clit, pressing into it, “Don’t be fucking sorry… I’m nearly salivating because of how drenched you are.”

That catches you off guard, “Sugu–”

He doesn’t let you speak, “–This wet because of me? It’s my fault you said?”

You bite your lip, his fingers circling your clit deliciously, “Mhm.”

His eyes brighten, “Perfect. Aren’t you just perfect for me?”

Your legs start shaking and he lets you drop back to his lap, one less layer between the two of you now. He’s so warm and hard and if you weren’t straddling him, you’d be clenching your thighs together for relief.  

“You are doing such a good job for me,” he whispers low against your ear, “Having the most perfect reactions.”

You whine at his praise, “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Yeah,” he licks against your ear, “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

His size is honestly daunting, large and thick as you sit on it, throbbing underneath you. “Suguru?”

He noses at your cheekbone, “Mmm?”

“I’m worried…”

“About?”

“What if you don’t fit…” you look down to his lap, “I just mean, you feel…big.”

“I don’t have to put it in you,” he comforts but he can’t help the way he twitches at your genuine concern over taking him.

“But you want to?”

“What sort of a question is that?” he holds you down while he grind up into you, “Does it feel like I want to?”

“I was jus– ah!– I was just checking,” you sulk back.

Your mind melts, getting away from you. He’s rutting up into you in a way that has you shaking and your breaths stuttering. On edge for so long while sat in his lap, you want to meet his grinds, you want to move your hips into him but his grip is firm and steady.

It’s honestly a little pitiful how quickly he’s building you up, your insides clenching with the pleasure. The drag back and forth on his clothed cock driving you slowly to insanity. His boxers almost as ruined as your panties, your slick coating his covered dick. The glide much smoother than what you’d expect. It’s like you can feel him throbbing for you and it makes you want to fully take him even more.

Your own thoughts riling you up, the idea of him sitting so heavily inside you makes you huff out a whine. A sound that Geto relishes in, in fact, he’s relishing in all of this. You’re so malleable to his will, he thinks in this state, you’d let him do whatever he pleases. The thought alone nearly has his eyes rolling.

He needs you to cum like this, he needs to see it. How you shake and writhe on top of him, the expression you make. He wants to make you cum in so many different ways just to see how your expressions might differ each time.

It’s relentless, how he humps up into you, how he pulls you down into him. Your clit catching on the tip of his dick making you jump each time, shocks of pleasure running through you. You never thought something like this would feel so damn good.

Fingers grappling at the material of his shirt, pleasure wracking your body as he draws you closer and closer, “Stop– ah!– if you keep going I’ll– hnn–”

“–So soon?” he hums, “I don’t know if– hah– I believe you… you’re gonna have to prove it,” he leers back at you.

His eyes on you feel so consuming, calm and watching but so hungry that it’s driving you to the edge. It feels like you’re melting, so warm and unbelievably close. Body twitching on top of him with your impending orgasm. You don’t even get to try and warn him again, sounds you’ve never heard yourself make falling from your mouth before you can think to stop them. Trembling with the force of your orgasm, feeling so weak as you slump into him, eyes wet and bleary.

Geto feels like he’s vibrating, watching you come undone on top of him making him feel too much at once. His arms wrap around you and hold you close, hands smoothing up and down your back. Lips close to your ear when he speaks, “You know… you make some really cute noises when you cum.”

Lazily, you look up at him through your lashes. Feeling a stupid kind of pleasure running through your body, still jolting slightly with the come down. “Stop trying to embarrass me.”

“I’m only being honest,” his hands slip under your shirt, groping your waist, “You getting embarrassed is just a bonus.”

“Have you always been this sadistic?”

He leans in and presses a kiss to the side of your mouth, “Who knows?” He smiles.

Turning, you catch his mouth with yours. Kissing him properly, hands tickling the back of his neck as you try to kiss him like he did you earlier. His hands on your waist grip you, lips imploring. So needy in how he returns your kiss, all but whining when you part. A string of saliva connects your mouths and he wipes your lower lip with his thumb, pressing it to your lips like he might push it inside.

Eyes lost as he dances his digit over your plush lips, “You’re beautiful,” is all he says, gazing at you with so much affection.

Opening your mouth, you gently take his thumb between your teeth. Biting so very lightly before flicking your tongue over the tip of it. Geto looks like he blushes at the action, pulling his hand back.

“Seems as though I’m not the only tease,” he accuses.

You mutter back at him, “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His compliment had made you feel so soft and tingly that you didn’t know what to say or how to react. It’s not like he’s never complimented you before, you just weren’t expecting him to call you beautiful so earnestly. Being given compliments by someone has never made your insides flutter as much as they did just now.

He hums at you, redirecting his attention. Pulling at the hem of your shirt to show what he wants; you lift your arms up so he can remove it from you properly. Feeling so bare on top of him but not really minding, still too blissed on your orgasm to care.

Geto doesn’t waste any time, groping your tits in his large hands. Rolling your nipples experimentally and grinning wide at how you twitch and bite back moans at it. “My, you’re sensitive.”

Teeth digging into your lower lip to stop the pitiful noises he’s threatening to pull from you, “Try not to sound so pleased about that.” Your blood is still thumping through your ears, pleasure fresh in your bones.

“Would you rather I be upset?”

“I’d rather you not make– ah!–”

His wet mouth wrapping around your nipple has your words cutting off suddenly, back arching into him. Huffing out breaths at how he flicks his tongue over your sensitive skin, dizzy from the heat he’s making you feel. Pulling back with an obscene pop, licking at you a final time while keeping eye contact before swapping to your neglected tit.

He’s playing with you, or he’s waiting for you to say you’re ready for more… no he’s definitely just playing with you. Taking his time leaving marks all over your tits, even biting some places. Neglecting himself in favour of teasing you to insanity, though it can’t be that painful for him considering how he’s enjoying this immensely.

Whining at him, “You– hah!– You’re gonna leave too many marks,” he ignores you in favour of making a new mark to the top of your breast, “Suguru!”

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull him back with a tug. You’re frowning at him but your eyes are so wet and dazed and you’re nearly completely naked on top of him. Covered in hickeys and his saliva, despite your pulled brows you look so euphoric.

Feigning ignorance, he simpers, “What’s wrong with that?” A finger trails over the marks he’s left, grazing a sensitive nipple in his journey, “You seemed to liked it.”

Swallowing your pride, you tell him directly, “I want more.”

“You want to cum again?” He muses, “Greedy.”

Taking offence at his accurate guess, you add, “I want… you to as well.”

Geto ignores the thumping of his heart, “Take off your panties then.”

“But…”

A brow raises at you, “‘But’ what?”

You don’t really want to tell him about how shaky your legs are, you’re a little concerned they’ll give out as soon as you try to stand. He really doesn’t need the ego boost right now, “Nothing.”

Moving off him so so carefully, you keep your hands on his shoulders as you stand between his spread legs. With the way your knees are wobbling and fingers gripping to him so harshly, it doesn’t take him long to figure out that you’ve not really got a great sense of balance right now. A smug smile gracing his lips when he sees you fight to figure out how you’re going to take off your panties with your hands on him.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” You quickly answer.

“Then take them off,” a finger pulls at the waistline of your underwear only to let it snap back to you. At your continued struggle he adds, “Or do you want me to take them off for you?”

You look to him, eyes hopeful for mercy, “Please?”

“Sure,” his tone polite but you’re not sure you’re that trusting of him.

Thankfully, his hands slide them delicately down your legs, brushing against your thighs. Though, he’s an opportunist and he uses this chance to grip at your thighs, pulling at your skin further and further up your legs. Humming low to himself at the slick coating your inner thighs, unable to help himself when he drags his fingers through your folds, touching your pussy directly.

“Fuck, alright–” He bites out, pulling you to his lap suddenly, “I’ve reached my limit.”

“Wait,” he stops his frantic movements and you pull at his shirt, “Take it off.”

He doesn’t even tease, just immediately does as you asked, hastily tugging his shirt off. It’s dropped less than gracefully onto the floor. Your fingers dance along his shoulders, down his chest. You want to take it all in a bit more but he’s flopping onto his back and shucking his boxers down enough to pull his cock free.

The size of him almost has your eyes bulging, you wonder how he’s been so patient when he’s this hard and achy looking. Tip flushed deep pink and already smothered in his own leaky precum, your cunt throbs while looking at him. Caught between concern over his size and a desperate need to be full of him.

“You don’t have to take it but please just–” He grabs and moves you until you’re hovering over it, “Sit on it at least.”

Lowering yourself cautiously, you sit on him lightly. He can feel your heat and it makes him shiver, “I don’t need you to be gentle with me,” he snickers, “Split your pussy open on my dick.”

Geto doesn’t even give you the chance to do it yourself, hands tugging you down onto him with more force. A gasp ripping from you when he immediately starts dragging you back and forth on his whole length. Stifled groans leave him from under you, his chest vibrating under your palm.

“Sugu–”

“–Sorry,” his brows are knitted together, “I got– nnh– impatient.”

It’s so wet, slipping over him repeatedly, the head of his cock nudging your clit over every pass. Your teeth dig into your lower lip to fight the whines bubbling inside you but eventually you give up and just let yourself moan. He seems to like it anyways, cock jerking at the soft breaths and whimpers leaving you.

He’s on the brink of stupidity, you’re so soft and unbelievably warm and his tip keeps catching on your hole and it makes him shudder each time. Looking down, he watches the way you’re coating his cock in more of your slick, cock shiny with how wet you are. Lewd sounds of your pussy grinding over him fill the room and now he’s thinking about you creaming around him. He’s never wanted something so bad in his life.

“Sugu,” you call out to him and he dopily pulls his eyes to yours, “Do you think I could just…” when his cockhead catches on your hole again, you press down, not even taking him in any real way and yet still stretching slightly for it.

His grip hardens on you, holding you completely still, “There’s no ‘just’ anything.” He struggles to breath out evenly, “Not with how tight you are.”

“I wanna feel full though,” you try wiggling down into him but he’s truly got you in a vice like hold.

His cock twitches as excitement rushes through him, “You asking me to take your virginity, pretty?”

Shy when you ask, “Would you?”

He’s not passing on the chance to pick on you a little bit, “How bad do you want it?”

He can feel the way your hole flutters when you think about his question, your answer seemingly downplaying how you feel, “Pretty bad.”

“Hmm,” He pretends to think about his answer.

You’re taking issue with his faux deep thought, “Sugu, stop acting like you’re not…”

“Go on,” he encourages, “‘Like I’m not’ what?”

“Like you’re not…” you look away from him, mumbling out, “Aching for it…”

“Oh? You aching for it?” The smile he’s wearing can be heard in his words.

He sounds way too gleeful over this and it’s ticking you off, “Nope,” you pop the ‘p’ as you lift yourself off him.

“Don’t be like that,” he sits up, “I’m not letting you go anywhere… not when I know you’re aching for my cock.”

“I did not say that.”

“That’s what I heard you say,” he shrugs.

Geto’s arms wrap around you only to throw you down onto the bed, gone from you for a second while he shoves his boxers off quickly. And then he’s crawling over you, hands tracing up your body, relishing in your reactions to him.

“You really are so sensitive,” he mutters, trailing a finger up your thigh and watching your skin break out in goosebumps.

He’s being so unbearable, the need you feel is so loud and he’s here taunting you, “You’re so frustrating.”

“You’re just a needy little thing,” he returns, “So desperate to be filled even though you’re not prepared in the slightest.”

“Then prepare me,” you whine back.

He finds this about you cute, your insatiable greed, your back and forth between shy and so horny that you’re getting pissy at him. “I should teach you some manners,” he grumbles.

You spread your legs for him obscenely, growing even more impatient. “Please, touch me,” you pull his hand towards your pussy, “please.”

If he ever gets the chance to touch you like this again he’s going to torture you because right now you’re playing so completely unfairly that he can’t even think to deny you. His brows pull up as he flushes, finding himself doing exactly what you wanted, fingers gliding through your folds.

The way you keen at his touch almost makes it worth it. “You don’t play fair,” he complains.

“Someone lead by– hah!– po– poor example, I guess,” you shudder when he slips a single finger inside you.

Geto groans at the snug heat of your cunt, closing his eyes to take a quick breath at just how you feel wrapped around his digit. The fear or cumming the minute he gets inside you is real; he’s going to have to develop an insane amount of self-restraint between then and now.

“You’re hilarious,” he leans down to whisper in your hear, “Now shhh…” He draws his finger back before fucking it back in, lewd wet sounds of your pussy filling the silence, “Hear that?” He keeps repeating his movements, taking immense joy in how you writhe under him, “I think… pretty things that are this wet and begging to get fucked… don’t get to mock me.”

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, eyes glassy when you look up at him, “Don’t– nnh– be sooo mean.”

“You haven’t seen me be mean,” he pulls his finger back just to stuff another inside you, grinning when you arch your back at it, “I’ve only been nice to you today.”

“Be nicer,” you pout.

“Don’t wanna be,” he smiles graciously back at you.

The fingers he has in you scissor to spread you open, pleased hums leaving him at your responses. Your mouth drops open and legs shake, fighting to close but unable to with how he’s in-between them. He’s hitting all the perfect spots inside you, crooking his digits to rub against your inner walls in a way you’re never able to reach.

He’s getting you so close to cumming that you want to hide from him, somehow feeling so much more vulnerable like this than when you were sitting in his lap earlier. Slowly, he works you to the point of taking another of his fingers, fucked open on three of them now. Your toes curl and your thighs hoist themselves on either side of his waist. Hips grinding into his hand, meeting his movements.

Geto finds the frenzied and desperate grinds into his hand adorable, satisfied with just how much more greedy you get when you’re this turned on. He already knows you must be close, your sudden drive to fuck down onto his fingers a dead giveaway to him.

He adds his thumb, rubbing circles into your clit. You jerk at it, tits bouncing in a way that has him drooling. To be honest, if you weren’t practically begging to get dicked down earlier he would’ve put his mouth on you. Maybe if he weren’t also desperate to put his cock in you he’d do it anyways but for now, he’ll settle for fingerfucking you to insanity and then shoving you full of his dick.

Your voice comes out smaller than you want, “Sugu, I think–”

“–I know,” his eyes are bright, fully aware of how close you are.

He can feel the way you twitch and clench down on him, back arching off the bed. Speeding up his movements just to get you there that much quicker and when you’re about to cum all over his fingers… he pulls them from you. Leaving you without your orgasm but so high that he could blow on your clit and you might cum.

You whine at him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Expression dopey and angry, sexually frustrated from the cruel and unexpected edging he just put you through. “What the hell, Suguru?!”

His grin is wolfish, merciless expression painted over with faux pity, “I’m so sorry, pretty. Were you close?” A hand cradles your face, soothing you for something that is completely his fault.

“Why would you do that?” All he’s succeeded in is making you needier than before, squirming under him with no way to find relief.

His answer is simple, “Just to see how you’d react.”

“I shouldn’t have hung out with you today.”

“Don’t be like that,” he guides his dick to your cunt, “I’m ‘bout to treat you so good.”

“If you don’t let me cum we’re not friends anymore,” you warn.

He snickers at how genuine you’re being, “Alright.”

“I mean it, Suguru.”

“I know you do,” he presses a kiss to your temple, “That’s why it’s a little tempting.”

You whine at him, “Can you stop being so cruel for a moment?”

He blinks at you, “What do I get if I do?”

“What do you want?”

“I want to be the first person you go on a date with.”

His request confuses you, “What? Why?”

He doesn’t answer you, “Those are my terms,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Okay! Fine, yes, whatever you want,” you nod at him.

He smiles and starts pushing into you, the stretch is a lot and it aches more than his fingers. You’re trying to breathe through it but it seems like he is too. His thumb is on your clit, trying to get you to relax for him. “St– stop– hah– fuck!– stop clenching so tight,” he hisses through his teeth.

“I can’t– nnh– help it,” your nails dig into his skin.

His lashes flutter when he gets his tip inside you, groan leaving him. “Wh– when I s–say date I mean– hnnn– a real date. A ‘I take you out and then try kissing you at the end of it’ date.”

For some reason, that makes your insides twist and you squirm. “Wh– whatever you– nnh– want, Sugu.”

“Yeah? You’re gonna– hah– dress up and let me take you out for your first ever date?” His fingers grip at his blanket below.

Your eyes roll as he slips further inside you, babbling out, “If you– hnn– let me cum? I’ll date only you.”

Geto sputters at that, hips driving forwards on their own making you both moan. His upper body drops down to you, lips ghosting over your neck and cheek before taking yours in a sweet kiss. He knows you’re out of your mind horny and probably not even sure of what you just said but he’s going to live in this moment while he fucks you.

He’s kissing your breath away while he slowly fills you to the hilt, trying so hard to be careful with you. His lips successfully distract you from the ache you were feeling, melting into him as he licks at your tongue.

Parting from you only when he’s balls deep inside you, head flopping to your shoulder as he moans. Struggling to keep it together, you’re wrapped so snug and hot around him, pulsing so tightly around his aching cock that he feels like he might cum at any second.

“Sugu?” When he hums, you continue, “Move please?”

You wiggle your hips into him but he’s quick to stop you with a firm hand, “If you don’t want this ending right now then you need to give me a moment.”

“Hmm, that’s awfully cute of you, Suguru,” you tease him.

“That’s bold,” he licks at the shell of your ear, “I’m going to ruin you.”

“More than you already have?”

He agrees, “So much more.”

It feels like an eternity before he’s finally dragging his hips back, that alone has your breath stuttering. He wants to set a punishing pace so bad; he wants to fuck you until you’re mad but he starts slow. Thrusting back into you at a languid pace, still carefully opening you up on his fat dick. It’s your first time and as much as he loves torturing you, he also loves pleasing you.

You’re scrabbling for purchase at his leisurely pace anyways, not expecting the heavy drag of his cock to feel this mind numbing. He chuckles lowly at the way you’re already weak for him, though it’s completely his fault considering all he’s put you through up until now.

“I think you may be the awfully cute one,” he smirks at you.

Your insides tug at his tone, “You can– hnn– be quiet.”

Leaning up, he rest on his knees, pushing your leg back and up. He has a great view of you taking him like this, able to see all your reactions. “I can but your pussy really likes when I talk.”

He’s so smug and he gets to be too because he’s right, his lightly mocking tone and that polite smile he wears is a deadly combo that has your cunt seizing around him. “I like it– hah– better when you’re nice to me.”

“You’re taking me all so well, pretty,” he praises, “Pussy sucking me right back in, so greedily.”

Your eyes roll back at how he thrusts into you, new angle hitting deeper than before, “That’s not– hnn– being nice!”

“Really?” He watches the way your hole clenches and feels how much wetter you get around him, “‘Cause you seemed to like it a lot.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, silently asking for him to fuck you.

He looks down his nose at you, “What are you asking for?”

Sulking, “I want you to– hah– move more.”

“You should’ve just said that then,” he crooks his head to the side at you.

The slow drag out is the same as always until he’s fucking himself back into you sharply, a gasped moan stumbling from you as your hands seek stability in the mattress below. Your whine is dragged out when he repeats it over and over, brows knitted together in your pleasure.

“That’s a nice reaction,” he comments smugly.

You only hum at him, too consumed by the feeling of him shoving his dick in and out over and over in such a relentless pace that you’re seeing stars. Either you’ve closed your eyes or they’ve rolled to the back of your head because you’re not seeing much of anything right now.

Your eyes are welling with tears, chest heaving with your breaths. The stretch in your leg increasing when Geto pushes down into you further, pushing back on your leg with it. He’s basically folded it over his shoulder, you had no idea you were capable of bending this much. You’re so dazed and fucked stupid when you look to him lazily, he looks so pretty like this. Hunched over you and driving his cock in and out of your tight heat, his hair hanging messily over his shoulders and face as his expression twists in bliss.

Reaching a hand up, you tuck a strand of his hair behind his hair, “You’re pretty.”

You say it so dopily that he wonders if you know what you’ve just said, “I’m fucking you to the point you’re cock drunk and you think I’m pretty?”

A shudder runs through you at his voice, “Mhm, and– ah!– you have– hnn– have a pretty voice.”

God help him, he’s about to cum from you calling him pretty. “St– stop– hnn– talking.”

“Sugu, you feel so–”

He cuts you off with a hand over your mouth, he has a feeling that whatever you were about to say would have him cumming inside you. “You’re so cute but I need you to shut up before I cum.”

From behind his hand, you look ruined. Tears slipping from your eyes, he can feel the way you’re drooling against his skin. The only sounds in the room his grunts, your muffled moans and the slick squelching of you swallowing his cock.

You want to keep telling him how pretty he is and how good he’s making you feel but even without him hindering you, you feel as though you may be beyond words now. Brain not able to form very cohesive thoughts as of this moment let alone speak them. He has you feeling so full, his cock throbbing against your walls in a way that has your skin thrumming.

Geto’s eyes lock down on where he’s stuffing himself into your little cunt, he feels himself short circuiting at the sight. Pussy bulging around him, struggling to take him all, dick so shiny with your slick. White creamy ring at the base of himself, it’s messy and lewd and it has him feeling so unbelievably obsessed with your cunt.

Thinking distantly that he’s going to do his best to impress you on your date so he can have you again, next time he’s definitely licking your pussy. Debauched groans vibrate in his chest at the thought, he’s going to make this so unforgettable for you, he needs you to be as obsessed with him as he is you. He’s going to be so much worse after this and he was already down pretty bad.

Your hand grabs at his wrist, trying to tug it away so you can speak. He pulls back out of curiosity, “I– hnn– I’m– ah!–” Giving up trying to warn him after a particular thrust has you crying out, there’s no real point in warning him anyways.

He grins at your inability to say anything meaningful, “I’ve gotcha, go ahead and cum for me.”

Of course he knew exactly what you were trying to say, how does he already know your body so perfectly. He leans down to you, impossibly close, just to kiss your cheek and say, “Come on, pretty, I wanna feel you squeeze me tight before I cum in you.”

Crude and obscene and effective because his words make you shudder as you suddenly cum around him. A little frantic in how you squirm under him, eyes rolling as your hips fight to fuck yourself onto his thrusts. Pitiful whimpers of his name leaving you repeatedly, the only really comprehensive thing you’re able to utter out.

Geto’s orgasm is immediately triggered by yours, he was hoping he’d get to play with you a little more but as soon as he felt the sinful way you gripped him while you came, he was done for. Your cunt pulsating around him milking him for all he’s worth, he’s cumming so much so deeply. His hips flush to yours as he only grinds into you to ride out both your highs.

He doesn’t think he’s ever cum that much in his life and he’s unsure if it’s because it’s you or because he held back for so long. His weight drops to you as he catches his breath, feeling spent and so drunk on your pussy that if he thought too hard about you he’d get hard again.

Your hand taps lightly at his shoulder, words all garbled when you speak, “Sugu, too heavy.”

Shoving his arms under you, he rolls until you’re on top of him. Cock slipping from you in the process and it has you letting out a cute whine.

“It’s leaking out of me,” you warn him.

He groans, “Don’t say that.”

You rest your check to his collarbone, “Why not?”

“I’ll get turned on again.”

Rolling your eyes at him, “You’re an insatiable pervert.”

“You’re not much better.”

His hands tickle up your sides, repeating the motion over, it’s making you feel sleepy. “You’re still worse.”

He just hums at you, apparently not caring to argue back. “You gonna be okay to shower?”

“In a bit… and only if you carry me the whole time.”

He laughs at that, “Sure.”

You draw mindless patterns on his chest with your finger, “So… where are you taking me on my first date?”

𝒂.𝒏. this was actually a request that i got carried away with,, my requests aren't even open i just fucked with the idea that hard hehe.... i hope you all enjoyed and thank you very much for reading !!!

(i recently made a discord for my followers so if you guys are interested in that please check out the pinned page on my blog :3)

[⚠︎] — 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈.ᐟ do not reupload / repost / translate / plagiarise my works © all works are the intellectual property of lovelivision

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

i would love to see 1000 secrets with barty crouch or regulus 😏

combining this with another reg request!! I have one coming for Barty soon too dw 🫶

1000 secret kisses | R.B.

cw: MDNI 18+, smut mentioned, secret relationships, fwb, drinking

1000 things prompt list (closed!) | masterlist

Alright, Barty. Truth, dare, or shot,” Dorcas said, still coughing after the gulp of firewhisky she just took.

“Truth,” Barty replied.

“What's your most controversial opinion about someone in the group?” Dorcas challenged, and everyone ooooh’d.

Barty took a contemplative drag of his joint, then—“I would bet my left nut that Regulus is a virgin,” Barty said through a cloud of smoke.

“No way, look at him!” Pandora argued. “He fucks, guarantee it.”

The groups heads swiveled to Regulus, who was reclined lazily in arm chair, knees spread, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He looked supremely fuckable to you, like he always did.

That's why you've been secret friends with benefits for most of the school year.

You and Regulus were an unlikely pair; Reg, a certified grouch with a distaste for socializing, and you, a gifted student and natural flirt. But you found him fascinating, deeply intelligent and perceptive, with an artistic heart, even if he preferred not to show it. And he found you endearing, infectious in your enthusiasm.

You'd kissed him after a drunken night in Hogsmeade, and he'd sought you out the following day in the library. Now, you snuck away every chance you got, stealing secret moments around every corner, in every classroom, praying your friends never discovered the truth, lest you never hear the end of it.

This was just for the two of you, and you preferred it that way.

“I'm not saying he isn't sexy!” Barty argued. “I'm saying he couldn't be bothered to fuck someone, too busy reading poetry and glaring.”

“And you expect me to, what? Fuck everything with legs like you, Junior?” Regulus bit back.

“No, but like—I’ve never even seen you glance at someone,” Evan chimed in. “You've never talked about fancying someone, or gotten flustered.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

“Nothing shakes him, and he'd never tell you half-wits if he fancied someone because you can't keep your mouths shut,” Xeno laughed.

“It's not like it's anyone's business anyways,” you added, stealing the joint from Barty and taking a puff. “It's his business who he does, or doesn't, fuck.”

“Oh, come off it. He hasn't even had a crush on you, and we've all had a crush on you,” Barty said.

You nearly choked on your hit. “You're full of shit, Junior.”

“It's true! We talked about it the other day!”

You risked a glance at Regulus while you fanned the smoke from around your face, and found him glaring down at his lap, his expression was calm, but you'd long ago learned to judge his true feelings by his pale eyes. And right now, the hostility in them could raze the castle.

That must have been the day he abruptly dragged you from your dorm and into an empty classroom. He toyed with you until you cried, begging him to get you off. And when he finally let you ride him, you weren't allowed to come until you told him exactly who you belonged to. Making you spell out his entire name, letter by letter, thrust by thrust.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Your pussy shivered just thinking about it.

“Can we get on with the game, please?” Pandora huffed. “It's y/n’s turn.”

Barry grinned over at you, and you groaned. Why on Salazar's shitty earth did you think it was a good idea to sit next to him?

“Truth, dare, or shot, my darling?” Barty asked, his voice a seductive purr.

You really didn't want to take a shot of that lukewarm swill, and you had a hunch of what Barty's question would be: do you fancy any of us? Leaving you with one option.

“Dare.”

Barty’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. “You've made a grave error, my dearest y/n.”

“Don't be an ass, Crouch. Play fair,” Regulus warned, the edge of his voice sharper than was probably necessary.

“Oh, you'll like this Reggie, don't worry.” Barty presented his palms to you, like he was offering a gift. “Treasure, I dare you to make Regulus blush.”

“That's not fair!” Pandora argued. “How is she supposed to do that?”

“By any means necessary.” Barty grinned.

You looked at Regulus, who was already looking at you. “I don't want to cross any lines—”

“And when she fails?” Regulus asked, a hint of a smirk on his pretty mouth. Baiting you.

“Then she takes two shots,” Barty wagered.

You looked back and forth between them, all eyes on you. “Deal,” you said, pushing to your feet.

Regulus' eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to actually go for it, but he vastly underestimated your pettiness. And you would love nothing more than to be the thing that made Regulus finally crack in front of his friends. A tiny consultation for months of keeping secrets.

You sashayed over to him, ignoring the whistles and shouts from your friends, focused entirely on Regulus' smug face. His eyes roamed over you, lingering at the edge of your skirt, the sway of your hips, and you caught the unmistakable sign of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and his arrogant expression faltered.

Already, you were making him sweat.

You knew none of your regular tricks would work on him, he was impervious to flirting, but you had an ace up your sleeve.

Carefully, you perched on the arm of his chair, being mindful to not actually touch him, knowing it would bother him to have you so close without being able to touch. He shifted a little in his seat, a fraction closer to you, fingers tightening on his cigarette.

You took a pull from the joint, filling your lungs with its acrid burn. You looked at Regulus expectantly, and he smirked before tilting his head back for you. You leaned in and he parted his lips, letting you blow the smoke into his mouth.

Your friends continued to whoop and cheer, but you focused on Regulus' proximity, the hazy feeling coarsing through your blood.

Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

Instead, when the last of the smoke left your lungs and entered his, you shifted to whisper in his ear. “Took that hit so well, sweet boy,” you purred, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

You felt his body hitch, wanting to cough up the smoke, but he managed to blow it out of the corner of his mouth, casting you vicious side eye. To your delight, you noticed a delicate pink stain was crawling up his neck, warming the tops of his cheekbones.

“She did it!” Evan cheered, and the rest of the group roared in approval.

“Brat,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You knew you'd be paying for it later, but it was so worth it to know you had an affect on him no one else did.

You sauntered back over to your seat, smiling ear to ear and basking in the groups praise.

Regulus tried to play it off, but there was no going back now. And you knew he was in trouble when it was finally his turn.

“Alright, Reggie,” Pandora said. “Truth, dare, or shot.”

You already knew what he would pick: Reg hated booze, and would rather run around the common room naked than fess up to something.

“Dare,” he said, taking a bold glance at you.

Pandora caught it, of course, and a tendril of uncertainty coiled in your stomach.

“I dare you to make y/n blush back.”

Regulus huffed a low laugh. “Come on, Dora. Give me a challenge.”

You glared at him, and he winked back. Maybe it was the weed, or his competitive nature, but you'd never seen him so brazen.

Everyone ooooh’d.

“Fine, I dare you to kiss one person in the circle!”

Your heart sunk. Even if it was platonic, a stupid dare, you didn't particularly want to see Regulus kiss someone else. Your feelings for Regulus has grown over the course of the your secret relationship, and while neither of you were ready for labels, that didn't mean you wanted to share him, or vice versa if the night in the classroom was any indication.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. “Not everyone consents to being kissed by me.”

“I consent!” They all chorused, and you inwardly groaned.

“What? You've never fucked and you've never kissed someone?” Barty teased, ramping up the pressure.

“Fuck off, Crouch,” Regulus hissed. The game was getting to him, and your friends were feasting on his rare display of discomfort.

You'd feel bad for him if you weren't feeling so sorry for yourself. Reg would probably kiss Barty just to shut him up, and then storm off to bed. Leaving you to decipher his words and actions like every night spent without him there to prove his affection with his hands and mouth.

Shit, maybe this arrangement had gotten more out of control than you realized.

“How the fuck is Sirius such a lady-killer, and his little brother is the virgin fuckin’ Mary?” Barty was too busy laughing at his own jokes to notice Regulus get up and prowl across the circle towards him.

Barty finally noticed when Reg was almost on top of him, but at the last second, Regulus pivoted. His hand shot out to grab you by the hair, roughly tilting your head back for the bruising kiss he planted on your unsuspecting lips.

You squeaked in surprise, but quickly gave way for him, melting under his firm, insistent mouth as his tongue delved between your teeth to taste you.

As quickly as he swept in, he was gone, leaving you wide eyed and breathless as he stalked back to his seat and dropped into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What was it you said? ‘Y/n has the most gorgeous mouth you'd ever seen’?” Regulus said, a mocking edge in his voice. “That you'd ‘give anything to taste her'?”

Barty gaped like a fish.

Regulus smirked. “I’ll have that left bollock now. And I'll take the other one if I hear my girl’s name on your mouth again, you prick.”

Everyone gasped, including you, but Regulus didn't even flinch.

“Understood?” He glared at Barty, then the others, until each one of them lowered their eyes in submission.

Regulus beckoned you forward with two fingers and you jumped up, crossing the space between you and allowing him to pull you into his lap. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, little more than a peck, but it still made your head spin.

“So, secrets out?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

Regulus shrugged, pecking your cheek. “It doesn't change anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m yours.” He kissed your nose, your temple, your lips, down your neck, until all of your friends dispersed, making disgusted noises as they fled such a public display of affection.

But you couldn't be happier, grinning like a fool as you basked in a thousand not-so-secret kisses.

[cryptidafter]

thinking about that post yesterday that said something along the lines of "you ever have those thoughts you can't touch because it gives you psychic damage?"

me today watching a movie about bullying, wondering why I'm feeling so uneasy and sick, as if 8th and 9th grade weren't some of the worst years of my life because of how I was treated at school

[luminni]

Most desperate things the 141 boys have done for sex because I can't stop thinking about it <3

(sorry for this being a 3rd repost, I had an account called Lumi_bunsblog but that one got deleted for some reason so this is the new one now ig lol)

John's begged for it. I mean on his hands and knees begging for a taste. I know this man is an avid pussy pronoun user too. He has been on his knees in front of you as you sit pretty on his couch, trailing kisses up your soft belly to your tits and then back down to your thighs.

"C'mon sweet girl lemme' 'ave a taste of 'er yeah? Know she fuckin' needs me hm? Just look at tha'" as he runs a thumb of the wetness that's seeped through you thin panties, just waiting for you to say the words and let him tear them off.

He knows if anybody else in the 141 or if any of his fellow soldiers could see him now, the Captain Price practically drooling over you and sweet talking your cunt like it could hear him they would have a fit. But he couldn't care less because you looked so fucking good right now so "just let 'er 'ave what she wants alright sweet thing?"

I just know Kyle has spent 70% of his last month's pay check on hotel room because the 5 star pent house suite was the only hotel room in your area left available during the holidays. He played it cool with an arm around your waist assuring you it was fine, acting like this was the room he wanted to get, not the one he was forced to have. But if he was being forced to do anything thank god it was spoiling you.

"Don't worry 'bout it love. Just make 'urself comfortable" He'll say in a sultry sweet tone, planting kisses up the side of your neck before excusing himself to the lavish bathroom to check his bank account. He had to make sure he still had enough to buy you a nice breakfast in the morning.

And you're already layed out so pretty for him on the bed so he's not complaining about anything. Especially not the mirror situated on the ceiling right above the bed. Oh and don't you dare suggest splitting the cost, "just split your legs for me hun, 's all ya need to do"

Johnny is eager, like so so eager. When a passionate make out session on your couch got even more heated than either of you had previously expected and he now had his fingers playing with the waistband of your skirt, letting his cold finger tips splay themselves just below. When he got to the hem of your panties and began to hook a finger into the lace you had to stop him,

"Johnny"

"Yea?" He was breathless, chasing your lips when you pulled away to talk. You almost felt bad for separating but if he was going to touch you, there was one request you needed to make. You had felt his nails drag across your thighs moments earlier, it felt wonderful but they were...a little long.

"Do ya nae want this hen?" He'd ask, looking at you like you were a piece of art. Pleading with his eyes, shining like they'd spill tears if you said yes.

"No, no I want this, I want you so so much. It's just..." you trailed off

"Tell me what's wrong bonnie and I'll fix it, yeah?" his hands kept you grounded to his lap either a soft grip on you ass.

"It's just- you're nails, they're a little long" your request was nothing more than whisper.

'Oh' Johnny knew he probably should have just asked for clippers, but you felt so damn good on his lap. He could feel your warm cunt through the zipper of his jeans and with your tits brushing against his chest he couldn't bring himself to move.

You watched in shock as he just began to just tear his nails off with his teeth. Without a second thought his pointer and middle finger nails were bit off to the skin. He paused and looked at his right hand before ripping off the index finger as well.

"Johnny what's gotten into you-?"

But he's already got his hands back down your skirt. Soft finger tips slipping between your folds. "Feel better now eh?" And when you just nuzzled your nose into his neck and let out a little whimper he chuckled "I'll take tha' as a yes"

Simon swallows his pride for the first time in his life for a chance at hitting it raw. You tell him it's okay to not use protection, that you're on birth control. But you needed to make sure that he didn't have any stds seeing as they're even more of a pain when you're on birth control. Not that you don't trust him you just want to make sure and it's not a problem for him seeing as he has to get tested every other week being in the military.

He doesn't, however, have his records on him at the moment and with a girl already lying in his bed telling him he can cum inside. Plus a raging hard on, he doesn't exactly feel like running back to base to get the paper work. So...next best thing.

"Price-"

"Rare for ya to call on leave Simon, whatchya need?" Price responds, his voice cracking through the face time call, a cigar dangling from his lips.

"Sir I need..." he looks back at you, your eyes expectant and shining. You wanted him and he wasn't going to fuck this up. "Can you send me a picture of my last med check results?" He rushes out the last part, elbow on his knee and hand dragging over his face.

Price quirks one eyebrow but doesn't look like he's going to ask any questions. Unlucky for Simon though, Johnny was also in the room. His voice distantly coming through the phone,

"The feck ya need those for l.t.?" He questioned

Simon just groaned, soap's addition to this call just made it even more frustrating. But he snapped out of his frustration at the sound of price opening his file cabinet. "What part?" Price asked, dismissing Johnny with a wave of his hand.

"The-" Simon began, this was fucking embarrassing but when he looked back to you, now perched on your hands and knees, the plush of you hips resting on your ankles, he'd do anything at this point. "STD results." He responded plainly.

"Aye! No fuckin' way mate!" The sound of a chair scraping the floor could be heard as Johnny began to clammer over to his captain who pulled the sheet from his files.

"Ya didn't tell me he was in the room" Simon growled

"Ya didn't ask" Price droned

Johnny's head popped into frame "show me what she looks like ey l.t?"

"Not happening" Simon deadpanned

"Aw c'monnnn" The sergeant whined "just proud of you for finally getting some action!"

"Enough." Simon could see you biting your lip to stifle a laugh out of the corner of his eyes, a curious look in your eyes at his reddened face.

"Sent a picture to ya Simon" Price huffed, letting Johnny give him one last "good luck!" Before hanging up the phone.

You were a mess of giggles as he just shook his head and shoved the phone results in your face for you to look at. "See. Clean."

"Okay okay" you giggled, finally letting his form eclipse you back onto the pillows

"Went through a hell of a lot of trouble for ya, sweet girl" he whispered, nipping at the shell of your ear.

"I'll make it worth it" you said, kissing the corner of his lip and tangling your fingers in the back of his hair

"Christ woman" he groaned, feeling his cock twitch at your promise, "gunna' be the death a' me"

[ventbloglite]

I think we need to sit down and talk about malgendering.

Not misgendering, malgendering.

We all know what misgendering means. Misgendering is when a trans person (or to be honest, even a cis person) has their gender denied to them in some fashion by implying, suggesting or outright stating that their gender is actually Something Else and not the one they identify as.

e.g. A trans woman being told she cannot attend a certain class because it's 'just for women'.

Malgendering is when the trans persons gender is not questioned or denied and may even be affirmed - but only in a context in which it can be used against them in some fashion (to make judgements on them as a person, to exclude them from something, to incite bigotry towards them etc).

e.g. That same trans woman taking her shirt off on a hot day and being arrested for indecent exposure.

This is misgendering;- "You're not a woman, you're a man." This is malgendering;- "Trans women are women, so obviously they exist to serve men."* *obvs it is also transmisogyny and all malgendering is transphobia.

But what you don't want to hear is that malgendering is a form of transphobia mainly used against trans masculine people and nonbinary people.

Most people recognise malgendering when it's;

Using the term 'theyfab' to ridicule an agender person or making jokes about how an agender they/them user looks (to you) to be a completely cis woman.

But you need to look out for how;

Malgendering is treating trans men like their transition has turned them into women-hating predators because of your own predjudices towards men/trans man were always inherently women-hating predators because maleness is what makes you those things not your actual thoughts, words and actions.

Malgendering is not listening to how trans masc people are marginalised 'because men aren't oppressed though' as if that's not ignoring a huge part of their identity (the being trans part) and how that works.

Malgendering is telling trans men 'this is just what it's like to be a man, people treat you like shit and you have to take it or not transition'.

Malgendering is insisting that any trans man who calls any attention to the fact that he is indeed, trans, and has/had female anatomy and faces misogyny due to being raised and still perceived (by transphobes) as a woman is misgendering himself, all other trans men and 'weaponising his AFABness'

All of this is transphobia. All of this is bigotry. This kind of predjudice and bullying doesn't magically become 'OK' once you find the 'right' group to do it to. You either want to end bigotry and transphobia and identity-specific targetted hate or you want to perpetuate it. But you can't call yourself a trans ally, or escape the bigotry allegations whilst malgendering people. And no you're not being sneaky by slipping in your hateful predjudice comments and actions whilst validating their gender.

Malgendering is transphobia.

[hanniebaeee]

Pieces of Us

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: Exes to lovers, second chance love, fluff, smut

Summary: Even a year after your divorce, you can't get over Chris. You keep seeing him all the time because you're co parenting your daughter, and you see that he's still the same man you fell in love with. And you both haven't moved on at all.

It’s late. Your apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, as you sit on the sofa, nursing a glass of wine when you hear the doorbell.

You find Chris on your doorstep, punctual as usual, holding your toddler, Mia, against his chest, her small body curled into him like she’s still a newborn.

Your heart does a funny little lurch. It must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“She fell asleep in the car,” he whispers, stepping inside. He is still dressed in his formals, and your traitorous eyes drink him in.

“Rough day?” he asks softly, noting the wine and the way your shoulders sag.

“Something like that,” you mutter, gesturing to Mia’s room. “You can put her to bed.”

Chris nods, carrying her toward her bedroom. He emerges moments later, quietly shutting her door behind him. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and a little too comforting.

“What happened?” he asks, folding his arms against his chest.

“It’s nothing,” you say, but Chris raises an eyebrow.

“Bullshit,” he counters smoothly, sitting next to you on the sofa. “You know you can't lie to me.”

You roll your eyes but relent and say, “Work politics. Same old garbage.”

Chris winces, before he leans forward and says, “You’re too good for them, you know that, right?”

Those are simple words, but they hit harder than they should. You glance at him, something raw flickering in your chest.

“Oh please,” you murmur, looking away.

“What?” He asks. “It’s true.”

You don’t answer, reaching instead for the bottle of wine. Chris doesn’t stop you as you pour a second glass.

“Here, celebrate my failures with me,” you tease, trying to ease your own heart. “I don't feel like wallowing in self pity alone tonight.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but takes the glass.

“You're so dramatic,”

“And yet, you were married to me for five years,” you quip, with a grin.

The wine loosen you both faster than it should. Soon, you’re reminiscing about Mia’s first words, and the road trip to Busan where the car broke down, and you ended up making out in the car till Minho came to rescue you both.

“I miss this,” you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Talking...and everything,”

You and Chris had been good friends before you both fell in love. It had been the most beautiful years of your life before things started falling apart.

He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s subtle, but it sets your heart racing. Like always. Even a year after your divorce, you clearly haven't moved on.

“I miss it too,” he finally says, his voice low. “All the time.”

“Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” you mumble.

He leans in, closer than he’s been in a more than year, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“You think I don’t mean it? You think I ever stopped wanting you?”

Your breath catches as he closes the distance between you. His lips hover inches from yours as he says, “I never stopped…”

It’s reckless, stupid, maybe even a mistake - but you don’t care. You let him close the gap, his lips crashing into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills over.

The kiss is messy and heated - all the pent-up frustration and longing coming crashing down. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt against him, your arms circling his neck. His lips move against yours desperately, like he is afraid to let go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and a little lost, Chris brushes a thumb over your cheek.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper.

“No. But it’s a start.”

It’s intoxicating - the feel of him, the heat radiating off his body. You both pull each other close again, his lips moving down your neck, leaving soft kisses.

But somewhere in between, reality raises its nagging head and you falter.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back slightly.

Chris freezes, his breathing ragged, as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“This is… reckless,” you whisper, though your heart won't allow you to let go of him.

He exhales sharply, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. “Y/N, I -”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice trembling. “I don't want us to mess up again.”

He gives you a look and you think he might argue. But then he sighs. He looks exhausted and a little heart broken. But he stands up and says, “You’re right. We can’t… not like this.”

“You have to go.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

He stares at you for a long moment, then he nods.

“Right. I’ll… I’ll call tomorrow to check on Mia.” he says, clearing his throat.

You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. Because this feels even harder than the first time.

“Goodnight, Chris.” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice rough.

As soon as he’s gone, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You sink onto the couch, your face in your hands, and you cry until your throat is raw. You missed him. And you still hate yourself for letting this happen.

It starts with a look. It always does.

The next time Chris comes by, it’s late again, Mia’s tiny backpack slung over his shoulder, and her hand clutching his tightly as they walk to your door. You try to play it cool, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed and a polite smile fixed on your face.

But then he looks at you and the air shifts.

“Hi,” he says, his voice lower than it needs to be, his gaze lingering on your mouth.

“Hi,” your voice shakes but it's soft.

Mia is already running into her room, way too excited to get to her new playset, and Chris watches her for a moment, before his gaze settles on you.

And then there are no words exchanged as his hands grab you towards him and he's pushing you against the kitchen counter, kissing you.

You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand slips down your back, cupping your butt before pulling you flush against himself.

“Is this going to keep happening?” you ask breathlessly, as he kisses down your neck. Past your collarbone. Down your chest. His face is buried in your breasts, before he kisses them over your t-shirt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him, and you gasp as he bites your nipple over the fabric and a dull pleasure courses through your body.

“What?” he murmurs, his lips back on yours again.

“This,” you say between kisses.

He kisses you again, rougher than before and says,

“Tell me to stop,” he says, and his hands cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes.

You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you pull him closer, your bodies so familiar with each other.

It becomes a pattern after that. Anytime he comes over - whether he’s dropping off Mia or picking her up - it happens.

Sometimes it’s rushed and frantic, like the time he cornered you in the kitchen, your lips colliding as the coffee maker sputtered in the background. And other times, it’s slow and sweet. Especially when he knows you're a bit down or you're having a bad day.

You don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend this is just an outlet, a way to scratch the itch that never seems to fade.

You tell yourself this is only because he's the only man you've been with for so damn long. You two had married so young. You hate thinking about it.

So you don't. But deep down, you know it’s more than just sex. But you’re not ready to acknowledge it. Neither is he.

Friday evenings with Minho are sacred. He's your best friend, your big brother, your pillar of support. The one person who held you up during your separation from Chris. The only person who knows that you still loved him with everything in you.

Minho brings take out, you both talk, watch a movie, sometimes two. And fall asleep on each other because obviously, you both were the laziest besties in the world.

You've been trying to tell Chris to leave, but he is busy pounding into you. You stand with your hands grips the kitchen counter as he thrust into you from the back, his hands holding onto your hips tightly.

“He's gonna be here any minute!” You hiss, and Chris moves faster, and more rough. You try not to moan as waves of pleasure hit you, and you clench so hard around him, he's shuddering with his release.

“Fuck-” He groans, pressing his face against the back of your neck before slowly pulling out of you.

You both clean up and look somewhat presentable when the doorbell rings. You sigh because Minho will see right through you.

And he won't let you live this down. Ever.

You glance at Chris before opening the door. And Minho steps in already ranting about his day and he stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Chris.

Well that's a first - Minho being at a loss of words.

You freeze, your cheeks burning, while Chris awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Minho,” Chris says, giving him a quick nod.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks between the two of you, his lips twitching in amusement, before slowly smirking.

“Hey, Chris.” Then, he strolls further inside saying, “Don’t mind me. I'm just here for my niece.”

He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Chris standing there like a couple of teenagers caught doing something bad.

“I should, uh, get going,” he says, though he doesn’t move.

“Right, yeah,” you stammer, smoothing your hands over your skirt nervously.

“See you on Sunday,” he says, opening the door.

“See you,” you manage, your heart racing again, and Chris flashes you a smile before leaving.

The moment the door shuts, Minho reappears, a wicked grin plastered across his face.

“Soooo…”

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re clearly fucking Chris freaking Bang and you want me to not start?”

“Minho,” you warn, making a beeline for the living room, and he follows you with that menacing grin still in place.

“So, when exactly did this ‘we’re just co-parents’ arrangement turn into ‘we’re fuck buddies again’?”

“It’s not like that!” you protest, though your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Uh-huh.” He says, starting to plate up the food. “You two were totally not flushed and guilty. Try again.”

You bury your face in a throw pillow.

“Linooooo stopppp!! It’s complicated.” you whine.

“It always is with you two,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like Ross and Rachel, except somehow more frustrating.”

You peek out from behind the pillow, glaring at him.

“We’re not -”

“Don’t even think about saying you’re not into him,” Minho interrupts, pointing his chopsticks at you. “I know you, Y/N.”

You open your mouth to argue but immediately close it, because he's stating the obvious and there is no real use of denying it.

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to jump your ex-husband, at least warn me so I can avoid walking into it.” Minho smirks, leaning back smugly.

You groan, throwing the pillow at him. He dodges it easily, laughing as you sink further into the couch, hands covering your face.

“Seriously, though,” he says after a moment, his tone softening. “Are you okay? I mean, this whole Chris thing… are you sure about this?”

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I love him, Minho, and I swear I tried to move on…but, everytime I look at him…he's the same person I fell in love with. He's not a monster. He's a great father. He's a good friend. And.. and I don't even know why…” Your voice cracks a bit as you struggle with your thoughts. “Then we talked, and it’s like… like nothing’s changed. But everything has changed, and it’s so… messy.”

“Messy’s okay. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Whether that’s with Chris or someone else.” he says softly. “If you're sure, then go for it.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be honest with Chris. To let go of the pride and the fear and just… try again. Because God, you really want to.

Sunday arrives, and Mia is up early, ready for her day with her daddy. She even picks out her favorite toy to take along with her and insists on wearing the sparkly dress she knows Chris loves.

When Chris texts, you think it's to let you know that he's on his way. But it wasn't.

Chris: Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule Mia’s time for today?

You blink at it for a moment, heart sinking slightly. You don’t question it - life happens, after all. But Mia doesn’t take it as well.

“Daddy’s not coming?” she asks, her lower lip trembling and her little shoulders slump in disappointment.

You kneel down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“No, sweetheart. He’s just busy today, but we’ll see him soon. How about we have a girls' day instead?”

She looks up at you with big tear filled eyes.

“Girls' day? With Mommy?” she asks, and you nod, pulling her into a tight hug.

“That’s right. Just you and me. Let’s make it special.” You say, kissing her cheek and getting on with it.

You spend the afternoon indulging in ice cream, shopping for new art supplies, and of course, toys. You also take her to an indoor play area that she loves, and by the time you get home, Mia is falling asleep in your arms.

You carry her to her room, tuck her into bed, and she’s out within minutes. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you step out of her room.

The apartment falls into a quiet, peaceful lull. You wash up quickly and sit in front of the TV, hoping to watch an episode of that show you've been trying to watch for a while now. It's not exactly easy with a toddler around.

But around fifteen minutes into the show, you hear the sound of the doorbell. You open the door, and there stands Chris, holding a small box in his hand.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, as he meets your gaze. “I'm sorry about today. I brought her favorite cupcakes.”

Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him.

“That’s sweet of you.” you say, “But she's already asleep.”

“Oh…I was hoping to see her before....ah,” Chris says with a little sigh.

You give him a small, sympathetic shrug.

“It's okay, she can eat them tomorrow,” You say with a smile and step aside to let him in.

He nods, stepping inside and setting the box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. There’s disappointment in his eyes and it stirs something deep inside you.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he says, and it feels like he’s apologizing for more than just missing his day with Mia.

“It’s really okay. Mia missed you, but we still had a good day. She was really happy.” you tell him.

Chris’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long before he says,“I feel like I keep letting you both down.”

“Chris, please don't say that,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “We know you’re doing your best. I know you’re trying.”

He nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced.

“So,” you say, trying to keep it light, “I’m about to have dinner… want to join me?”

It’s an innocent enough invitation. Casual. Polite. But the way he looks at you gives you an idea of what's about to happen next.

Chris takes a step forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and then his lips are on yours. The kiss deepens almost instantly and he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together.

You stifle a sob, and Chris is quickly pulling back to look at you, tipping your chin up to see you better.

“Baby, please don't-”

“I love you-”

There is a moment of silence - Chris's eyes soften as he watches the tears fall. You can't believe you just said that. But this whole thing was getting more and more difficult to manage. The constant need to be close to him. Waiting for the days he spent with Mia, just so you could see him.

And then he's kissing you again, mumbling a hundred ‘I love yous’ you against your lips, and the next thing you know, he's scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards your bedroom.

He closes the door gently (so that it doesn't wake Mia), and places you on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor.

“Baby, I never stopped loving you. And there isn't a day where I don't regret letting you walk out of my life… we could've handled things better…and everytime I came here for Mia, I wished you would just ask me to stay. I selfishly wished that you wouldn't move on.” he says, his voice soft and his touch even softer as he placed his hands on your knees.

“I don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll not let you down. I'll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that you're my everything… and I will be here for you, always.”

You nod and tears falling more rapidly now, and throw your arms around Chris's neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing against your neck as he holds you close.

“I love you, baby I'm sorry-” You cry, your arms tightening around him. “I didn't know what to do…the baby, the job, there was so much noise, and I wasn't well…I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering too-” you hiccup through your tears.

You feel his hand moving up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“I know baby, I'm not mad. We were both suffering. We were both hurt. But we're here now.” Chris whispers.

“I love you, I want you back. Please don't leave me again-”

Chris kisses you again, stealing your breath away.

“No more crying over me ok?” He says with a soft smile. “I'm not going anywhere…I love you and Mia so much, I am going to be here-”

More kisses follow and you move back into the bed, and he follows, both of you pulling at each other's clothes.

He trails his lips down your neck, and it feels like the world outside your bedroom might as well not exist. His hands glide over your skin, gentle, but just as desperate.

You can feel the way he trembles against you, the way his breath catches as your hands move down his chest. And then when he slips inside, as gentle as ever, you can't help but cry, because as beautiful as the moment feels, you realize just how miserable you have been without him.

Chris moves slowly at first, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds. He peppers so many kisses on your lips and neck, like he can't kiss you enough.

His fingers work on your clit as he moves, and soon your body shudders as your orgasm ripples through you. You moan softly, and it obviously has him crashing down too.

You don't let go, because truth be told, you're afraid he's going to leave. And tonight? You don't want him to. Actually, you don't want to see him walk out that door ever again.

And Chris isn't planning to, because he holds you just as tight, promising softly that he'll be here when you wake up in the morning. And you let your eyes fall shut, trusting him.

You both decide to take it slow, for Mia's sake.

Chris doesn’t officially move in, yet, but his presence is…undeniable. There are more of his things around the house, and more than anything else, it's the way Mia’s laughter grows louder every time he walks through the door. You’ve caught yourself smiling more too - wide, genuine smiles you hadn’t worn in ages.

You love watching him help Mia with her bedtime routine, fixing squeaky hinges around the house you’ve ignored for months, and finding every excuse to stay a bit longer.

And Minho? Well, he’s having the time of his life.

---

One Friday evening, you’re all gathered in the living room. Chris is helping Mia build a tower with her blocks while you sip wine and half-listen to Minho’s dramatic story about his latest “date gone wrong.”

“And then she said she didn’t like cats. Cats, Y/N. Can you imagine the nerve?” Minho says, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks as he digs into the takeout he insisted on bringing.

“Oh my God” you say, laughing as Chris adds, “Sounds horrible, but maybe try not to bring home every stray you find?”

“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to steal my best friend away. Again.” Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at Chris.

“Jealous, Minho?” Chris quips, and Minho scoffs, leaning back dramatically.

“Of you? Please.” Minho says. “But whatever this setup is, it's sure looks promising.”

You freeze mid-sip of your wine, while Chris raises an eyebrow.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“I’m just saying, for exes, you two sure look cozy.” Minho grins, and your cheeks burn, as you try not to look at Chris.

“Minho…” you warn.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m rooting for you,” Minho says, winking before turning back to Mia. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt Mia. Because you two are idiots. And we're done dealing with you. Sorry, not sorry.”

Mia giggles at the mention of her name before getting back to her game.

---

Later that night, after Minho has left (eyeing you mischievously because Chris was still there) and Mia is asleep, you and Chris are clearing up the kitchen.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “Minho isn’t wrong.”

“About what?” You ask, glancing at him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“About us. About this.” Chris says, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.

Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at him, watching him push off the counter and walk towards you.

The towel slips from your hands as his fingers brush against your cheek, and his lips land on yours.

It’s slow at first, warm and tender, but it doesn’t take long for it to snap and you're both pulling each other closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body responding to his touch like it always has.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I love you too,” you admit, and he smiles, his dimples making an appearance and your heart races as you reach up to run your fingers over it.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. And at that moment, this doesn't really feel like a second chance.

It’s the beginning of everything you’ve ever wanted.

The smell of pancakes fills the house as sunlight filters through the kitchen windows. Chris stands at the stove, a spatula in one hand, flipping golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. He’s wearing his usual gray shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair is messy, a sign that he’s only been up for about twenty minutes, and he’s humming softly to himself as he works.

Mia sits at the table, still in her pajamas, happily coloring into a giant coloring book. This is such a dream. You lean against the counter, sipping your coffee, watching Chris with a faint smile that you haven’t been able to shake since he stayed over last night.

For the first time… in a very long time.

And then, the doorbell rings. You frown, setting down your coffee.

“Expecting someone?” He asks and you shake your head, walking to the door and opening it to find your mum standing there, a purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face.

“Mum?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Surprise, sweetheart!” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to see my girls, and I brought muffins!”

She holds up a bakery bag, grinning, then stops dead in her tracks.

Her gaze falls on Chris, who’s just turned around from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” your mom says.

There's silence for a second before Mia screeches, “Grandmaaaaaaaa!!!”

Your mum picks Mia up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before asking if she could play in her room for sometime. Mia pouts, but runs off with a muffin.

Her eyes narrow slightly, taking in how casual Chris looks, his messy hair, and the way he just seems to be part of the scene.

“Good morning, mum,” Chris says smoothly, recovering faster than you could've thought.

He smiles, dimples flashing, as he asks, “Pancakes?”

Your mum raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. She folds her arms, looking at you.

“Y/N… what’s going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you start, suddenly feeling like a child again.

“Mhm.” She gives you a look that says she doesn’t believe you for a second. “You’re telling me it’s normal for your ex-husband to be in your kitchen, making pancakes, looking like he just rolled out of bed?”

“Technically, I did just roll out of bed,” Chris says, unable to resist.

You shoot him a glare, but he has already turned back to the stove, hiding a smirk.

“Y/N?” Your mom’s eyes narrow further.

“It’s… kind of...,” you say finally, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Yes?” she prompts, looking from you to Chris and then back at you. You think she's going to give you a nice big lecture about responsibility. But she lets out a sigh, her posture softening.

“You know,” she says, her tone gentler now, “I always thought the two of you were good for each other. When you got divorced, I was shocked and devastated - for you, for Mia.” She pauses, her eyes locking with yours. “But if you’re giving this another try… I just want to make sure you’re happy, sweetheart. That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“I know I messed up before. I know I hurt your daughter. But I love her. I always have, and I’m doing everything I can to show her - and Mia - that I’m here to stay. I realize that I need them more than they need me…so yeah,”

Your mum’s gaze softens as she studies him, and then she looks at you.

“And you, Y/N? Are you happy?”

You glance at Chris, who’s watching you with that steady loving gaze that’s always made you feel safe and sure, and you nod.

“Yeah, Mum. I am.”

Your mom smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to stick around for breakfast. Those pancakes smell amazing.”

Chris grins and gets back to work, and your mum nods, making her way in to properly greet her granddaughter again.

Just as she disappears, Chris slides up beside you, his hand brushing yours as you start setting the table for breakfast.

“That went better than expected,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“You’ve always been her favorite, you know.” You glance at him, your lips twitching into a smile.

He smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Good to know I still am.” He pecks your lips quickly before getting back to work.

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your mum comes back with Mia in her arms. And you all sit around the table and enjoy breakfast.

It’s chaotic and imperfect, but it's home. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. All the scattered pieces of you finally fit.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat]

juno - spencer reid x afab!reader

reader finds out how good spencer is with kids and can't keep the thoughts from pouring in

requested!

genre: fluff, smut wc: 2179 warnings: established relationship, daydreamer!reader, talk of pregnancy, p in v, unprotected sex(duh), brief breeding kink, i love yous, reader has hair?

my first time ever writing smut!!! keep your pitchforks to yourself please!!!

You've known for a long while of your boyfriend's affinity for the young souls out there. Perhaps he was one of them. Perhaps he was just an overgrown one of them. It was something spoken about early on, his love for kids. He mentioned that he's the godfather of his coworker's little boy and how he's always wanted one of his own. A boy or girl, it doesn't matter. As long as he got to raise one with the fatherly love he never quite received.

That was all fine and well to know until you actually got to see Spencer with a child. Babysitting Henry was supposed to be a way of letting JJ and Will have some fun for once. It turned out to be much more confusing. He was sweet, gentle, and spoke in a soft tone that drove you oddly insane. When he started doing card tricks, you thought your heart would explode.

That's why right now you're sitting in the car completely silent. You've never been one to shut up so it's no surprise that he knows something is off. It's not your fault that you're suddenly lost in an alternate reality in which you're in a large house with a small baby. Maybe two. It's not like you wanted to get started right away. Nonetheless, something about the idea was appealing.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks softly, eyes narrowed.

Technically, yes, you're fine. Too many thoughts but fine.

"Yeah, of course," you hum. "You were really good with Henry today."

A bright smile breaks out on his lips as he lets out a breath that's just barely a laugh. "You think?" his brows furrow, glancing over at you almost nervously.

You nod, shoulders loosening. "I do." While fiddling with your necklace, you add, possibly with too much meaning, "you'll be a really good dad."

His face turns red and he focuses on the road. Before long, the thoughts swarming in that head of his refuse to stay inside and he speaks gently, "is that what you're thinking about?"

A topic you've talked about—your tendency to daydream. It's not a thing you've kept hidden. In fact, it's your favourite pastime. However, it's a little awkward to tell your boyfriend that you're imagining him getting you pregnant.

But you were never a good liar.

"Yeah," you admit, fingers still at the pendant on your chest, eyes watching the passing scenery and streetlights.

"And?"

To that, you're not sure there's any response that doesn't seem insane.

"And what?" you ask cautiously.

After a quick glance in your direction as if he's testing the waters, he clarifies, "are you opposed?"

"To what?"

"Kids."

Oh. Well, no, not in the least. The idea of raising a family with Spencer is thrilling and you believe it's something you do want. You've always liked kids and kids have always liked you but the thought of seriously settling down has never truly crossed your mind. Until now, you suppose.

You shake your head, eyes lingering on his jawline. "No. You know that," you mutter softly.

"I do... but we've never talked about it. Just because you like children doesn't mean you necessarily want them," Spencer says like it's the most simple thing.

"True." The singular word is almost impossible to hear. You add gently, "but, I do."

He nods, turning his head to look at you in a way slightly different than all the other times. You can't quite place it, though. What you do know is that it definitely caused some major butterflies in your stomach. Then again, that happens a lot. But when his right hand moves from the steering wheel to your thigh, you're sure that look meant something. Something good, you think.

You're even more sure when, the moment you get to his apartment, he kisses you deep, lips parting to make way for his tongue. It's not rough at all. Loving, mostly. Like he's ensuring that you know you're cared for. You smile wide, unable to stop the giggle from leaving. Pulling back with an equally lovesick smile, he laughs, "what?"

Hardly a second later, you place another peck to his still grinning lips before answering with a bright, "what's going on?"

His eyebrows raise. "Nothing... I don't know what you mean," he says in easily a whole octave higher than usual. Your eyes narrow as you search his eyes.

You beg dramatically, "tell me."

He sighs then runs his fingers through his hair, unsure if he wants to bring it up. "About what you said... in the car... you meant it?"

"What I said...? About kids?"

Spencer nods. "Yes."

"I meant it, yes." It's spoken hesitantly. You're not positive where this conversation is heading.

"I just... like the thought," he shrugs, leaving you to walk towards the bedroom.

Really confused and a little intrigued, you follow, watching him start to unbutton his cardigan. "The thought?" you hum, crossing your arms in an attempt at nonchalance.

"Of you... pregnant," he mumbles like he doesn't want you to hear, letting the piece of clothing fall to the ground before picking it up to put it in his laundry bin.

He didn't need to say it like that. He could've said the thought of starting a family, of having a child. You're not a profiler but the way he decided to word the sentence makes you think something bigger has been revealed. Freudian slip or intentional, he's not telling you everything that's on his mind.

"Pregnant. Really?" You picture it and, perhaps it's because you'll be the one carrying it, but all you seem to be able to picture is chubby ankles, morning sickness, and mood swings.

Simply, Spencer nods, eyes finally meeting yours. You smile up at him sweetly as his hands come to cup your face. "There's just—I don't know... something appealing about it. About being the one to..."

Now, you get it.

"Oh. Like—oh! So, that's what...?" you babble purely out of shock.

Who knew Spencer Reid had the fantasy of impregnating you floating around in his brain?

His hands drop to your shoulders, squeezing gently. "Does that make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—just forget—"

To his surprise, you cut off the soon-to-be-ramble with your lips on his. It takes a second for him to understand what's happening but he does, mouth moving against yours eagerly, his hands sliding up to your face. While smiling, you drag your hand down his neck and to his tie, tugging it loose. Once he clues in to where you want this to go, his fingers slip under your shirt, gripping your waist firmly. The tie comes off, dropping to the floor and, soon enough, your shirt's gone, too.

He takes a few steps to the bed before lowering you onto it carefully. As if handling glass, he glides his hand down your stomach, to the button of your jeans.

"Can these come off?" he pants against your lips.

Nodding desperately, you whisper, "yeah."

With a nod back, Spencer unbuttons the jeans and pulls them down your legs. His palms slide up your thighs as he presses another kiss to your mouth. "Go lay down?" he suggests softly.

You comply immediately, moving up on the bed and laying your head on the pillows to watch him undo his shirt one button at a time. Next, his belt comes off. And then his pants. When he's left in only boxers, he positions himself above you before kissing down your neck. Your back arches and he uses the opportunity to move his fingers to the clasp of your bra.

You aren't at all unfamiliar with his skill but, every time, it continues to catch you off guard how, in a few minutes, you're at his mercy, willing to do anything he asks of you. Then again, when are you not?

He tosses the bra aside to join the rest of the discarded clothes on his bedroom floor. His attention is, of course, then drawn to your chest, one of his hands grabbing at you while the other suddenly starts small circles over your underwear.

"Spencer, I don't need that," you mutter breathily. You don't really want his hand at the moment.

His head lifts from your neck, placing a sweet kiss to your cheek. Spencer asks quietly, "are you sure?"

There isn't much you're capable of doing at the moment so you nod. He takes the answer and hooks both index fingers into the waistband of your panties. His eyes fall directly to the newly revealed area the same way they always do, adoration spilling out of him at the sight of the collecting wetness. A small smile on your face, your hands drift down to take off his boxers.

With the last barriers removed, your lips connect again and his hand moves to line himself up with you. The kiss breaks when he looks down to watch himself push into you, a whimper leaving you and a shaky breath leaving him. He quickly bottoms out and you whine.

Softly, he murmurs, "you okay?"

"Yeah, just," you laugh, "...full."

Spencer breathily chuckles with you, nodding like he's trying to get himself together. "Right."

After a deep breath, his hips start slowly, letting both of you adjust to the feeling of each other again. No matter how many times you do this, you still always need a minute to get used to him. Your breaths come out in gentle pants and occasional whimpers until he speeds up and you can't contain yourself. Desperate moans of pleasure spill from your lips as he moves.

"Doing so good—feels so good," he mumbles, eyes now screwed shut.

"Really, really good," you nod eagerly, voice soft. Your hands paw at his back in search of anything to hold on to.

The sensation is almost too much you think you might burst. Although, when he starts to whimper, that's when you really lose it. The way he sounds and the way his face scrunches up, it's intoxicating. You need more of it.

You cry with want, "harder... please."

Like always, he attempts to give you everything you need and desire. He nods, hips quickening and lewd sounds coming from your bodies. A small gasp leaves you. Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing him to hit your deepest point. It's a feeling you'll never quite get used to. The moment he reaches that spot, it's never long after that it's over.

Letting out a gasp, you clench around him, causing his movements to falter and become more frantic. A breath quickly leaves him before he's asking, "inside, right?"

You whine, "mhm," dangerously close to slipping off that ledge. Your mind brings you to images of you pregnant, his baby growing inside you. This time not so scary. You imagine this moment in a very different time, when his release will signal a new start and not just an end.

His mouth finds your shoulder, pressing careful kisses to the skin. The hand not holding his body weight finds the sensitive point between your legs, eliciting a loud moan from you. Desperately, you cling to him, arms wrapping around him for any more contact. That familiar feeling builds deep in your gut and you whine, finding your eyes rolling back.

It happens quickly, the finish line getting closer and closer until it's gone and you're in another universe of pleasure. Your hips try to escape but Spencer doesn't let that happen. His hand moves from your center to your hip, holding you down with little force. The fog clears just in time to watch him reach that very same ecstasy. Lips parted against your shoulder, he whimpers, movements becoming even sloppier until they slow.

The odd warmth spills from you. His breaths come heavy as he relaxes against you and pats your head—an interesting choice of affection after sex but somehow suitable. When he pulls out, you sigh shakily, watching him go to the bathroom. Before long, he's back with a damp cloth. He opens your legs again, running the fabric over you with a tenderness you couldn't possibly describe.

He joins you after discarding the cloth. An elbow holds him up so he can look at you, looking so perfect, lips swelled and hair splayed delicately over the plush pillows. He's staring. Mind wandering, he pictures a world in which you're rounder and perhaps with a ring on your finger. You're deep into pregnancy, probably grumpy with him but he doesn't care because you're his. Only his, forever.

Again, not today, not now, but someday. When the funds are appropriate and you know it's the right choice. Not that he ever doubted.

Just above a whisper, he says, "so... that doesn't mean I want—"

"I know. I'm glad," you grin, still quite dazed but completely content.

A kiss is pressed to your forehead and he sighs. "I love you."

"I love you," you mutter back.

As previously stated, Spencer Reid is a man that's good with kids. You presume he's even better with you, though.

[paetalks]

megumi fushiguro is the kind of guy who gets set up on dates by his friends all the time, just for them to be unsuccessful. is not that he isn’t a good looking guy (and he knows that at this point), it's just his aura that comes off as off-putting. he hangs out with the girls, brings them to places like the arcade or random parks, and the date ends up being pretty boring. the girls usually look pretty bummed that he isn't really a taker, or in general that his vibe isn't overall welcoming and at the end of the day he never gets a call back. he actually isn't all that interested in 'finding love', he mostly says yes to his friends so that they will get off his back about it.

"just this time, fushiguro. it won't happen again." yuji itadori is saying, after asking him to go out with one of his girlfriend's friends. megumi isn't even looking at him, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. "yeah, sure."

he doesn't even mind all that much at this point, he knows already how its going to be. he's just going to have to sit through the night with a plain face, knowing that the person on the other side of the table is never going to want to speak to him again.

that's what he thinks until he meets you. he is blinded at first by your beautiful smile, that pops up as soon as he introduces himself. yuji and his girlfriend picked a place this time, sending you to a chinese restaurant that opened up somewhere downtown. he looks at you carefully, as if he his scared to ruin you by staring too much, while you order something to drink. you're all smiles and kindness he almost feels out of place.

it is silence at first, after a first shaky conversation about how the day is going or something like that. fushiguro almost blames himself for his dryness in answering, because you actually are a cute girl and he wouldn't mind striking a conversation, he just doesn't know how to. gladly, you do.

at first, it feels like an interrogation. you keep asking questions and he keeps answering briefly. then he starts saying stuff back and the conversation blooms. you guys talk about school, friends, food, bands you like to listen to. he is a good listener, you are a good talker. he makes you feel heard, always nodding to whatever you are saying and adding something here and there, and you make him feel seen, never looking away from his eyes while you speak.

at some point - mind you, he doesn't even know how or what he did say - he makes you laugh. the conversation was about the gyoza y'all were eating, it wasn't even all that interesting, but your laugh sweeps him almost off his feet. right there and then he swears its the best thing he has ever heard.

delicate yet full of emotions, your laugh fills the room. the sound is haunting even when it's over and other people in the restaurant look at you fondly while your face relaxes and your cheeks still hurt. he was staring at you the whole time, almost carving a hole in your face. "you have a beautiful laugh" he blurts out, while his face blushes like crazy and his mind yells why did you say it like that you weirdo.

you flutter your eyes a little bit, surprised by the heartfelt comment, but quickly thank him. "thank you, fushiguro. i kind of can't wait to hear yours." you wink at him playfully, but your answer made his heart sink. his ears get violently red while he quickly looks away, flustered.

he never actually got to this point with any girl before, and he feels weird, really. it's like he doesn't even know what to do, but at the same time he doesn't have to know. its easy, it's natural.

at the end of the night you give him your number, writing it on the back of his hand with a pen you asked the waiter for. you are not scared of anything, he thinks, while he walks you to the bus stop and watches you walk beside him. for the first time in his life, megumi fushiguro feels the need to have more. more of you, more of this. he feels like wanting it all.

back to his dorm, before going to sleep, itadori knocks on his door. "how did it go?" he asks, eyes lighting up in excitement. fushiguro doesn't say anything at first, but then, looking away from his friend, he sticks out his hand. blue ink shines on his palm, almost reflecting the dim light in his room, and yuji cheers out loud.

"I knew you could do it, fushiguro! I'm so proud of you!" and he pretends to wipe away a tear, meanwhile megumi thinks that actually he didn't even do much, he was just himself. and this time, it worked.

[mytherapyisreading14]

Magic Tricks

Summary: You are celebrating Henry’s birthday but when Spencer shows some magic tricks, his hands quickly become a distraction to you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Category: Fluff, Smut (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption, kissing, dirty talk, hand kink, praise kink, choking, oral sex, multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (stay safe y’all)

Word Count: 3,5k

Authors Note: This is the first time I wrote smut, so please let me know if I forgot any warnings/ if there’s anything to improve! Hope you enjoy :)

It's a sunny afternoon, the garden is full of life and everyone came to celebrate Henry's birthday today. Henry is currently sitting on a small wooden bench surrounded by his friends while Spencer shows them his favorite magic tricks. He lets cards slide through his fingers, pulls handkerchiefs out of the air and amazes the children - especially Henry, who sits there with his eyes wide open almost the entire time.

"What do you think, Henry? Ready for something you've never seen before?" Spencer stands in front of the boy and raises his hands, which start to intertwine in a fluid movement. “Yes, definitely!" Henry says enthusiastically.

Spencer quickly brings one of his hands down and pulls a glittering ring out of the air, which immediately appears in his other hand. "Look here, Henry, it's really easy,” Spencer says with a wink. “Wooooow!" the children shout in unison and Henry claps euphorically.

You, sitting next to Penelope on another bench, are also completely fascinated - but you're not just looking at the ring or the tricks. Your gaze keeps wandering to Spencer, to his hands to be precise, which performed the magic with such precision. It's not just the art of magic that captivated you, but also the man himself.

How skillfully his fingers move, how naturally he juggled the small objects - all of this makes your thoughts drift away. The fact that you’ve been in love with him for years now makes it even worse. You imagine how his hands would touch you, how he would hold you when...

You suddenly hear your name and flinch. You didn't even really hear him talking to you, as your thoughts were far away from the magic trick. "Are you even listening to me?" Spencer asks. "Why are you staring at my hands all the time?" You freeze. Suddenly you are so aware of the situation that you almost feel like everyone in the circle is watching you.

Your cheeks turn red. "Uh... I... I just wanted to know how the trick works," you stammer. Penelope, who is sitting right next to you, couldn't help but giggle and whispered to you: "Sure, that must have been the reason..."

"Yes! Exactly," you answer way too quickly. "I... wanted to find out how you did it!" Spencer looks at you for a while, then nods. “Sometimes, it's better if you don't understand the trick," he says with a mysterious smile. "Otherwise the real magic is lost." You try not to blush any more. "Of course, that's true," you murmur and try to relax. Penelope, who is watching the whole situation with a grin, giggles quietly.

Spencer turns back to his magic tricks, but his gaze keeps wandering over to you. You try to look away from his hands now, but unfortunately it's all to no avail. You find yourself looking at his hands and your thoughts wandering in another direction, and Penelope, noticing this, nudges you teasingly with her elbow. "Looks like our genius is enchanting you even more today than usual," she says.

To get out of the situation and keep a clear head, which is never possible around him, you stand up. "I'll get a drink," you mutter. "Good idea," Penelope says with a cheeky grin as you walk towards the house. The other children are busy watching the magic tricks again, but you can't shake the thought of Spencer.

His hands, which unleashed the magic so precisely and elegantly, preoccupied you much more than you would like to admit. You wonder what else he could do with those hands - if it wasn't just about magic tricks.

Spencer, who is busy with the children and their enthusiasm, casts a quick glance at Penelope, who looks at him with an amused smile. He goes over to her while the children continue to marvel and chat. Spencer casts a glance in the direction you went and then wonders if he missed something. “Tell me, Penelope,” Spencer begins, “do you also think she was acting a bit strange just now?”

Penelope laughs. "Oh, come on, Spencer. She was completely distracted." Spencer raises his eyebrow. "By my hands?" he asks, now slightly amused and curious. "Why?" Penelope looks at him and then grins widely. "Well, because she... watched pretty closely how you used them. She was completely fascinated," she explains.

“Fascinated?" Spencer repeats, now even more confused. "And what's so fascinating about that?" Penelope shakes her head and laughs softly. "Come on, you genius, do you really have no idea?" She clicks her tongue and looks at him with an expression that was almost too good-natured to be serious. "Um... no, not really," Spencer replies, looking at her confused. "Explain it to me."

Penelope raises her hands in an innocent gesture. "You're a genius, you should be smart enough to figure that out on your own." She winks at him and then stands up. "I'm going over to the others. Use your clever head properly," she says and then walks towards the house. Spencer ponders, the explanation has triggered something in him, but he still can't quite figure out what exactly Penelope meant.

Then he decides to tell Morgan - who is standing on the other side of the garden - about the previous conversation. He had no idea what had just happened, but something told him that he had to understand it. He walks quickly towards Morgan, who is just getting a beer from a cooler.

“Hey, Morgan," Spencer says, stepping next to him. "You didn't happen to notice what just happened, did you?" Morgan looks at him with a grin when he hears the question. He laughs quietly and takes a sip from the bottle. "Yeah, I noticed. She couldn't take her eyes off you the whole time.”

Spencer suddenly feels a little embarrassed. "What exactly do you mean by that? She was just a little distracted by the tricks. That's all." Morgan raises an eyebrow and then shakes his head, still grinning widely. "So you're really the only one who doesn't notice, huh?" Morgan asks. "Notice what?" Spencer replies. "Well, if you don't understand..." Morgan says, laughing again. "She's in love with you, pretty boy. That's what's going on."

Spencer is so surprised that he just sits there speechless for a moment. "You really think she's in love with me?" Morgan laughs again. "Um, yeah? Have you never noticed how she acts when you're around? How nervous she gets?" Spencer blinks as he thinks about it. He actually hasn't noticed that you sometimes act differently around him.

He thought about the tricks and the magic all the time, but never about the fact that you might be interested in him for another reason - something much more personal. He tried to push the thought away, but something inside him wouldn't let it go. He wanted this - you - for years and he doesn’t want to get his hopes up now. This has to be a misunderstanding, there is no way you are actually interested in him like that.

Deep down, he's wondering if he was really that blind. And what if Morgan was right? What if you actually feel more for him? He looks around again, glancing at you. Spencer puts the thought aside for now - but he knows he can't shake it off so easily. He feels like he can't ignore the whole situation any longer. After talking to Morgan, he realized a lot of things, but he really needed to talk to you to understand them. He has no idea how you would react.

You, on the other hand, try to avoid Spencer for the rest of the evening. You can't be near him without imagining what his hand would feel like around your neck or between your legs. But since Spencer is so popular with the kids and they can't get enough of him and his magic tricks, it's fortunately easier than you think to avoid him. But you still often feel his gaze on you and it makes you nervous.

Later that evening, after most of the guests have already left, you help JJ bring in a few glasses and bottles. You are just about to go back outside when Spencer comes towards you. "Hey," he says, but before you can even reply, Spencer pulls you aside and into the small guest room at the end of the hall. The door closes behind you and the atmosphere in the room is suddenly much more intimate.

“What's wrong?" you ask, still a little confused because he took you aside so suddenly. "You avoided me today," he says. You avoid his gaze so he doesn't see that you are blushing again and start babbling. "Henry and his friends were so impressed by you and your magic and it's his birthday, I didn't want to disturb you. JJ also needed help and I agreed to do that. We were both busy, so it's clear that we don't run into each other that often," you explain hastily.

“That's not true. You deliberately avoided me. And your mind was somewhere else. As if something was distracting you,” he says, taking a step closer to you. “Why don’t you want to tell me what distracted you today?” he asks, looking down at you. Your heart is beating faster and faster and you are a little overwhelmed by the whole situation.

You didn't expect Spencer to confront you with it. "Now you’re quiet. That's uncharacteristic of you. I think I'm making you nervous," he says. "I...uh," you start, but you're unable to form a sensible sentence. "I was just talking to Morgan and… now I know why you were looking at my hands like that." You look at him questioningly. "What?"

"You were looking at my hands," he says, "because you're in love with me." A laugh escapes you. Your reaction leaves Spencer startled, his voice suddenly uncertain. "Why are you laughing?" he asks, and for a moment he looks as if he's not sure what to make of it. "Is it because I'm wrong? I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable -"

But before he’s able to continue, you quickly grab his arm and pull him towards you. Your lips meet his, and for a moment everything else is forgotten. The kiss is gentle and at the same time full of emotions - as if you want to tell each other everything you never put into words. When you pull away from him, you look deep into his eyes and whisper “Morgan is right... I'm in love with you."

Spencer stares at you for a moment, as if to make sure he heard you correctly. But before he can say anything, you quickly add, "But that wasn't the only reason I was staring at your hands," you tell him. "No?" Spencer raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "What was the other reason?" he asks, and you can see in his eyes how eager he is to know. "I want to know."

You can see the sparkle in his eyes, the mixture of relief and curiosity, and for a moment you feel your heart beating a little bit faster. There's something you haven't told him yet, something you need to explain to him. But the look in his eyes melts your nervousness.

"I was looking at your hands," you begin, "because you use them in a way I've never seen before. Your movements are so precise, so... controlled. It's not just magic, Spencer. I want to know what else they can do." Spencer is silent for a moment, and then you see a slight smile appear on his face. “So, you're looking at my hands because you want to know what else they can do?" he asks. "Yes," you answer quietly, "but also because I just can't get enough of you."

“I don’t want you to get enough of me. Ever. Because I am in love with you too. For quite a while now. Since the day you sat down on the jet next to me and challenged me to play chess, to be more exact,” he says and leans forward to kiss you again, his hands grabbing your hips to pull you closer.

A gasp escapes your mouth and Spencer takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss and explore your mouth with his tongue. You can feel the heat rushing through your body and you press yourself even closer against him, reaching for his hand. His eyes follow every move with a curious look. You take his hand and slowly guide it to your neck.

His mind slows for a minute and then he finally understands. “That’s what you‘ve been fantasizing about earlier. My hands exploring your body. Me choking you. Haven‘t you?“ he asks and you nod. His eyes darken and you can see the lust sparkling in them.

His hand now wraps around your neck entirely and he squeezes gently. “More,” you whisper. “You tell me if it’s too much, okay?” Spencer says with a concerned look on his face before he tightens the grip on your neck. “Yes Spence, of course,” you breath out before getting distracted by his hand sliding up your inner thigh.

His hand is now under your skirt, running over your panties. “Can I touch you?” Spencer asks and you pull him down by his tie to whisper in his ear. “Of course you can, Spence. I need you to touch me. I’ve been dreaming about this since forever. I’m all yours.” You kiss slowly down his neck, then nibbling on his skin to mark him with a hickey.

That’s all Spencer needs to hear. His hand pulls your panties to the side and he grazes your clit with his finger to tease you. “Spence, please. Touch me,” you whimper and he chuckles. “Someone’s eager. Fantasizing about my hands got you worked up, am I right, sweetheart?” he asks, finally touching your clit with his thumb. Your only respond is a moan and you press down on his finger to show him you need more.

“I barely touched you and you’re already soaked,” he says as he runs his finger through your folds. “Only… only for you, Spence,” you manage to say and slide your hands up to his shirt to open the buttons, taken off guard when he pushes a finger inside you. Your knees are trembling and you have to hold yourself against his body in order to stay up.

“Spence, that’s so - it feels so good… I - I need more, please,” you whine and he pushes another finger inside you. He reaches all the spots you never could and you’re a moaning mess, rocking yourself against his hand. “Good girl,” he praises you and it takes you off guard. You clench around his fingers and he chuckles. “You like that, didn’t you? Me calling you a good girl. So praise kink and hand kink, let’s find out what else you’re into.”

You didn’t expect to hear such words from him. He is always the sweet, gentle and unassuming genius when you are around him, but now, that both of you snapped, finally giving in into your desires, he shows you a completely different side of him, one you’re more then excited to discover. It turns you on immensely.

He squeezes your throat more and pumps his fingers faster, rubbing your clit in circles with his thumb and it doesn’t take long for you to come on his hand. You hold yourself steady against him with trembling knees while he is busy running his hands down your shirt, tugging at your bra and squeezing your breasts. You help him taking off your shirt while he’s guiding you to the bed.

He unclasps you bra skilfully and pulls down your skirt and underwear in one motion, before he pushes you down onto the bed. His gazes wanders over your body and he licks his lips. “You are gorgeous, sweetheart,” he says before he leans forward to kiss down your neck to your breast. He takes one of your nipples in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth while squeezing the other one.

You arch your back and slide your hands up to his shirt again to go back to unbuttoning it, after you got interrupted earlier by Spencer giving you so much pleasure that you were unable to continue your actions. You pull his shirt off and run your fingers over his body.

Spencer slowly kisses down your tummy now, reaching your inner thighs where he sinks his theeth into the sensitive skin, sucking the spot to leave a hickey there before he gently kisses it and leans back to admire his work. It earns him another moan from you and he and grins. “So you like marking me, huh?” you decide to tease him back. “You are in no position to tease, darling,” he says with a mischievous grin before he presses his mouth against your cunt, licking a strip up your folds.

Your hands reach for his hair immediately, pressing him closer to you while he devours you like a man starved. Your whimpers are music to his ears and he can’t get enough of you. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he says before he dives back in. You lift your hips to press more against his mouth but he holds you down with his arm. “No, you have to stay still and take what I give you, do you understand?” he asks and you nod.

He shakes his head in disappointment. “Words, sweetheart,” he simply says and you need to concentrate to form a sentence. “I - oh… yes, I understand,” you manage to breath out and he goes back to eating you out, his grip firm on your hips to keep you still. You never felt this kind of pleasure and when you look down and see him devouring you completely, it becomes too much, you come again moaning his name.

Spencer comes up between your thighs with a satisfied smirk on his lips and you pull him down to kiss him again. You taste yourself on his lips and he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Your hand slides down to his pants and you open them with shaky hands, pulling them down. “Need you now, Spence. Please,” you tell him. “You need me that badly?” You nod. “Yes, I want to feel you inside of me.”

He takes off his boxers and your eyes widen, he is bigger than you expected. You watch as he pumps his cock a few times before he lines himself up at your entrance, sliding through your folds a few times to tease you. Then he pushes in and you moan his name. He claps his hand over your mouth to shut you up. “Shh, as much as I enjoy hearing you moan my name, you have to keep quiet,” he says.

From the lack of movement you are feeling right now you were sure he’s giving you time to adjust. When you feel ready you lift your hips to show him. He starts to slowly thrust in and out of you, hitting your G- spot with every thrust. “You feel so good, so warm and wet just for me,” he says and feels you clenching around him.

It feels even better than you imagined. He’s big, but it’s not uncomfortable and you want more. “Harder. You can - you can fuck me harder now,” you say and he chuckles when he hears how eager you are. He starts thrusts in and out of you faster, his hand wrapping around your throat again.

“Is this what you wanted? Is this what you imagined every time you looked at my hands?” he asks, squeezing until you see stars. “Yes, oh god - Spence. Feels so good,” you moan, already feeling another orgasm building up, gripping the arm around your neck for support.

Spencer, who can feel how close you are increases the speed and thrusts even faster and deeper inside of you. Your body is on fire and when Spencer starts to apply pressure to your already sensitive clit, you feel like you’re going to explode. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come around my cock,” he says and his permission is all you need to let go.

Spencer fucks you through your orgasm, also close to reaching his own now. “Fuck, I need to come inside of you. Can I, Sweetheart?” he asks, his thrusts getting sloppier. “Yes, in- Inside me,” you say and he finishes a few thrusts later. When he pulls out you can feel his cum dripping down your thighs, but you don’t mind. He collapses next to you on the bed and pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss on your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks you while he plays with your hair. “Yes, that’s was amazing,” you say and give him a peck on the lips before you cuddle closer to him, gently stroking his hair. He looks down to you. “Do you have to get the morning after pill? I can get it for you,” he says and you smile. “I’m on the pill, Spence, but thank you anyway,” you say and give him a kiss.

You stay in bed cuddling but after a while you speak up. “I would love to cuddle with you all evening, but I think we need to go back out soon, the others are probably already looking for us,” you say and he nods. “A few more minutes. I don’t want to let you go just yet,” he says and you smile. “I love you,” you say and he smiles back. “I love you too.”

[wttcsms]

Itoshi Sae gloating to the other team about his victory and having loud sex with you in the hotel after💗 knowing damn well the other team is moping around in the same hallway

sae is prideful. he always wants to be the best and to have the best. that's why he knows to expect to hear the other team making comments on the "hot girl" sitting in the athletes' family section, remarks on how nice your legs look in that mini skirt, how your legs would look even nicer when it's wrapped around them.

sae's the type of person who doesn't go all out when he shit talks the other team; he saves all his gloating comments for during and after the game. and while he's not necessarily a sore loser, he makes for a bastard of a winner.

you don't know where all his stamina comes from, and you want to ask him to slow down, but he reminds you that he's a winner tonight. and you promised him, you told him that if he played well, you would let him do anything. so just lie down on the hotel bed like a good girl, soaking through the 500-thread count sheets, biting your bottom lip hard enough to nearly draw blood as you try to stifle your moans.

that's what makes him fuck into you even harder, the head of his cock pressing against your cervix. your silence isn't what he wants, and he knows it's because you're embarrassed of all the noise his teammates and the opposing team will be privy to.

he knows to press his thumb right to your clit, the stimulation having you clench around his cock. the pleasure gets to be too overwhelming, and you can't help but let out a loud, drawn out moan.

that's good. but sae isn't a winner because he's easily satisfied. you can be even louder than that. as a matter of fact, you're making him feel like he's not fucking you hard enough.

he'll know he's doing a great job when you're reduced to a fucked out, wet, sloppy little mess whose throat is so sore from screaming out sae.

[yoyomomiko]

☆ : They're jealous ×

characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace

cw: jealousy (is that supposed to be a warning??), probably ooc, cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(a/n): This is like, my first time writing for one piece characters specifically😀 I'm barely in Alabasta but I cannot wait until I finish one piece so that I can write for it😔 ACE IS A NEED UGH -> m.list

★requests are open!!

LUFFY

Luffy doesn't understand jealousy at first and will simply blurt out "Why are you talking to him so much?" without realizing it sounds possessive.

Believe it or not, he can get VERY possessive. You're pretty much just as valuable as his hat, you're his treasure.

That's right, his treasure.

So then, why are you talking to that donkey faced man? He's so ugly, why would you even bother wasting your breath speaking to him?

He'll cling to you like glue, throwing an arm around your shoulders or holding your hand tightly while pouting.

When Luffy's jealous he starts getting loud, making exaggerated jokes or showing off just to grab your attention.

Complains to the rest of the crew (probably Usopp or Nami), asking things like "Why does she want to talk to him when I'm right here?"

He completely interrupts your conversation with the other person by inserting himself, I just kinda feel like he'd do that.

WILL demand you sit next to him at meals and get grumpy if you sit by someone else.

He can't stay mad for long, the SECOND you give him attention, he lights up again as if nothing happened.

If the other person makes you laugh, he'll immediately try to one up them by doing something goofy, trust me, I know

He will casually lean on you or put his hat on your head as a possessive gesture (LUFFY THE MAN YOU ARE)

He's so childish

ZORO

Zoro acts nonchalant but is secretly FUMING inside when someone gets too close to you.

Glares daggers at the other person, making them incredibly uncomfortable without saying a word, he's just like that

Crosses his arms and stands near you as if silently asserting dominance (ugh I need him)

He gets extra grumpy with Sanji or anyone else he sees as competition, throwing insults their way.

He physically can't hide his annoyance and mutters things under his breath like "Tch, what's so interesting about him?"

If you laugh at someone else's joke he's gonna be like "It wasn't that funny."

I feel like he gets jealous if someone compliments you, but instead of complimenting you himself, he'll grumble like "You don't need to hear that from him."

WILL position himself between you and the other person, silently blocking them from getting closer.

I think he lowkey gets clingy after cooling down his jealousy, sticking close to you but pretending it's no big deal.

When you reassure him, he'll pretend it didn’t bother him, saying stuff like "Whatever, it's not like I cared." But deep down, he's RELIEVED.

SANJI

Lord have mercy

Sanji gets visibly jealous and is UNABLE to hide it with his dramatic reactions

He definitely calls the other person out immediately, saying things like "Why are you bothering her, huh?"

He tries to pull your attention back to him by showering you with compliments and affection.

He starts offering to cook your favorite dishes after that, just to make himself seem more worthy than moss head over there

If the other person is flirting, Sanji will step in and sweet talk to you SO passionately it makes the other person back off (simp power??)

He dramatically smokes while muttering "How could she look at someone else when I'm right here..."

Tries to outdo the other person in everything, just to show he's better

WILL ask you "Do you think he's better than me?" with puppy dog eyes

100% gets extremely competitive with Zoro (if it's him you're giving attention to) insulting him while trying to impress you

When reassured, he's back to his usual lovestruck self and saying "I knew you couldn't resist me, my angel!"

Sanji just wants to feel like he's your number one, and your affection always melts his jealousy away.

ACE

MY MAN UGHH

HE'S THE REASON I STARTED ONE PIECE IN THE FIRST PLACE

Anywayss

Ace tries to play it cool, but his temper makes his jealousy pretty obvious.

If someone flirts with you, he'll casually throw an arm around your shoulders and say "She's taken, by the way."

Speaking of throwing, he definitely picks you up and completely THROWS you over his shoulder. It doesn't matter how tall you are or how much you weigh, he ALWAYS manhandles you.

His freckles make it easy to spot when he's blushing out of jealousy or frustration (UGH😫)

He gets restless and starts fidgeting, for example bouncing his leg while watching you talk to someone else (is that my seat right there?)

Stares at the person with a smirk that doesn't quite hide his irritation, daring them to push their luck (you know that one scene in Alabasta where that giant scorpion was in front of him and Ace was like "I wouldn't if I were you" or something like that? Yeah, that's right🤭)

If someone compliments you, he'll immediately agree and add "Yeah, but I noticed that first."

UGH KICKING MY FEET😣

Can get surprisingly moody, muttering things like "What's so special about him, anyway?"

Might act a little childish, poking fun at the other person

WILL casually flex his strength or abilities if he feels the need to, like lighting a flame in his hand and saying "Bet he can't do this huh?"

If you reassure him or show him affection, he'll relax immediately, grinning and saying something like "Yeah, I knew you couldn't resist me."

And he's smirking at you with that stupid handsome face (I need him🚨)

★yoyomiko ★miko

[ddejavvu]

I can't get the thought of marking Hotch up with lipstick marks out of my head. Like imagine leaving a trail of kisses down from his neck to his dick. And if the lipstick is starting to fade, he'd reapply it for her so she could continue marking him

Hotch is typically more-than-professional during round table sessions, the grim atmosphere of the room setting the tone for his no-nonsense behavior. However, he can't stop himself from itching at a persistent stinging against his collarbone- probably something to do with the mark you'd sucked into his skin only hours earlier.

it's such an intense sensation that he slips a hand beneath his collar to itch it skin-on-skin, something probably unprofessional considering his environment, but one of those base human things that must be done even if it shouldn't be. A few wandering eyes note his movements, observant but neutral as a profiler should be.

It isn't until he withdraws his hand, fingers stained a crimson red, that anyone reacts.

JJ shifts in her seat, eyes blowing wide as Prentiss leans forwards, "Hotch, is that blood?"

Aaron's already grasped the edge of his manila folder with his lipstick-stained fingers, turning the yellow paper a sinful shade. He frowns, glancing down at his pristinely pressed suit, but there's nothing red against his chest.

"Your hand," Reid urges, his brows knitted in concern, but it's Derek- of course - who recognizes the red for what it really is.

"Hold on," He laughs incredulously, a great gust of air that comes out like a bark, "Hold on, hold on, hold on, that came off'a your chest?"

Caught red-handed, Hotch composes himself, which is a very stark difference to the way that his team dissolves into teasing giggles. Penelope has clapped a hand over her mouth, perhaps the only way she can hold herself back from opening it.

"Settle down." Hotch attempts, but Rossi undermines him with an exasperated groan. Once the oldest of the team proves unreachable Hotch knows he's lost the room, and sits in stony silence while he waits for his coworkers to finish getting their fill.

"My man." Morgan declares, clapping Hotch on the shoulder with a strong hand he's lucky not to lose, "She got you in the doorway this morning, didn't she?"

"We're talking about dead teenagers, here." Hotch reminds them, raising a brow as Emily, Penelope, and JJ collapse into girlish giggles, "Can we please focus on the case?"

"This is on you, Hotch." Rossi levels him with what's supposed to be an unimpressed glare, and what really comes off as a smirk, "It's not their fault you come to work with lipstick under your clothes."

"I have to ask Y/N for that shade," Penelope gushes, but at Hotch's warning glare she grabs her remote and retakes her place beside the viewing screen, "But-! But our trusty boss is right, there are lives on the line here. So- um, incriminating lipstick stains pushed to the back of the mind, we'll start up again on our case."

Hotch's shoulders relax as the team sinks back into careful contemplation of the case details. He thinks he's escaped scrutiny altogether thanks to the shocking violence of this particular unsub, but it's three days later when he hears about the lipstick stains again.

Surprisingly, it's Reid that comes to torture him, and the slick comment comes when Hotch is forced into sharing a motel room with him. Communal bathrooms are in the middle of the complex, but it's easier to change in their rooms. He unbuckles his belt facing the corner of the small room, giving Reid space to change himself, and giving both of them as much privacy as possible.

"Careful, Hotch," Reid calls, voice misleadingly kind-hearted which lures Aaron into a sense of security, "There's a gap in the curtains behind where you're standing. You wouldn't want any onlookers to see any more lipstick Y/N left behind."

Hotch decides that Reid is worse than Morgan. Morgan is expected to be crass, so it's not a shock when it's delivered. Reid, however, is one to watch out for.

"Reid," Hotch responds, hearing Spencer's breathy laughter already bubbling from his throat, "I'm sticking you on desk duty for a month when we get back."

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 15th. mattheo — brat taming / daddy kink.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: play bratty games, win…uh, your boyfriends cum down your throat?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, glove kink, fingering under the table at a family dinner, dom!mattheo, denied orgasm, SLIGHT mutual masturbation, an absurd amount of dirty talk, daddy kink, ROAD HEAD (how tf does this man keep the car steady? idk), blowjob.

Malfoy Manor has always been stunning—the kind of stunning you've grown used to over the years of being with Mattheo, but that somehow still manages to take your breath away every time you step foot inside. It's perfect in a way that almost feels oppressive, the heavy weight of generational wealth clinging to everything.

The chandelier, the delicate flowers in the center of the table, even the soft scent of roses in the air—it's all so much. Too polished. Too grand.

You pick at your dinner, the taste lost on you.

On any other night, maybe you'd let the beauty sweep you up. But not tonight. Tonight, everything grates. The low hum of formal chatter, the fake, forced laughs that drift through the air—you hear it, sure, but you don't care. You can't care. You're too pissed off to care. It all sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

And the cause of your irritation? He's sitting right beside you, perfectly at ease. Mattheo's been charming the room for hours now, playing his part, all smooth smiles and well-placed comments. He was crafted for this. Moulded into it. He can waltz through these evenings like it's second nature, like he doesn't even have to try.

And that pisses you off too. Truthfully, everything about him tonight pisses you off.

But you sit there anyway, like the dutiful girlfriend you are, playing your role—smiling when you're supposed to, making small talk when you're supposed to—all while on the inside, irritation is bubbling, simmering just beneath your skin.

And maybe it's stupid—trivial—but you're mostly just mad that he dragged you here. Ignored your exhaustion. Dismissed it with that look of his, the one that said you'd survive, as if surviving was the same as being fine. And now, you're stuck in this perfectly orchestrated evening, playing a part you never wanted.

And you'd almost hate him for it—if it weren't for those fucking gloves.

Leather, black, soft and sleek. They move with him, something that masks his ruggedness and makes him almost look presentable—graceful—hiding cut knuckles and the strength within them as he picks up his glass, adjusts the napkin in his lap, brushing his fork like it's nothing.

You almost scowl in frustration of it all. Who the fuck let him wear those? You've been staring at them all night. You don't even want to, but it's like they've trapped your attention, pulled you in without asking.

You're mad at him. The gloves don't change that. But they do something. They make everything harder.

And still, you fight it.

It starts small. The attitude. A quiet, sharp kind of rebellion that only he'd catch onto. Your fingers tap your glass a little too hard when you set it down. Your words come out flat when he leans over to make some passing comment. You give him clipped responses, not looking at him, not giving him what he wants. You can feel the brittle edge of your smile, and you know he can too.

Mattheo notices everything. He always does.

After a while of this, a gloved hand slips under the table, brushing your knee.

A question without words; what are you doing?

You don't react. Not at first. You just shift your foot, barely nudging his ankle, pushing back in the smallest way. He tightens his grip on your knee—a warning, a silent conversation between the two of you, invisible to everyone else at the table.

"Dinner's been nice," he's prodding, testing, his voice smooth as ever. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You feel him watching, feel the weight of his gaze as he picks you apart, dissecting your mood. He knows you too well for this. You finally meet his eyes, and for a second, the room fades into the background. Just him and that damn hand on your knee, the soft leather brushing your skin in a way that makes your pulse stumble.

You try to shake it off, shrug it away like it's nothing.

"Hmm," you hum, pretending you're not affected. Your fingers tap your plate, and your eyes drift again—down to his other hand, resting on the table, playing with the edge of his glass. "I suppose."

His brow arches, just enough for you to catch it—another challenge posed to your audacity. He knows exactly what you're doing—you can see it in the way his lips twitch, the faintest hint of amusement. He's letting you play your game, but you know he's already winning.

"You're mad at me." His voice is low, slipping beneath the hum of dinner conversation.

You blink, keeping your gaze trained on the flicker of candlelight rather than him. It's not a question, not even a statement—he says it like a fact, just a certainty, a declaration dripping in the smugness that comes so naturally to him. And that pisses you off even more.

He’s always too goddamn sure about everything.

"Mm, no." You lift your glass, cool rim kissing your lips as you take a slow, languid sip, the taste biting your tongue. You let it hide the smirk threatening your face. "Nothing to be mad about."

His hand shifts higher, fingers tightening just enough to remind you he's there—dipping into your skin, the silent warning you can feel vibrating up your spine. You should be used to this by now, should be used to the way he takes you apart—but you aren't. How could you ever get used to this?

"Uh huh." He's not buying it. He never does.

His eyes flicker around the room, yours follow, mirroring his movements in a habit you loathe as you let him have that win. Everyone's busy—forks clinking, soft laughter bubbling up like champagne, far enough away to give him the nerve to push you harder. Your breath catches when you glance at his free hand again—black leather tapping idly against the tablecloth like it's got all the time in the world.

Gods, what's wrong with you tonight?

When had his gloves become the focus of your desire? They're just fucking gloves. Stupid, soft leather molding perfectly to those big hands—you’re chewing your lip without realizing it, and his eyes catch yours before you can look away—

Fuck.

"You keep staring at my hands," he's leaning in again, and your pulse skips, trips over itself like it's running from something. "Got something you'd like to say?"

The pit of your stomach tightens, twisting with a familiar dread, a sick kind of anticipation. Of course, he's noticed. The bastard catches everything. Nothing slides under his radar—not when it comes to breaking your attitude.

He likes to say he was born to tame brats—and you, of all people, make him prove it. Sometimes you hate him for it. Most times you don't.

"No, actually." You shift in your seat, trying to shake his hand off your knee, but he's relentless—doesn't budge, doesn't even flinch. "I don't."

Christ. His grip is ironclad, like those gloves were made for this kind of hold. For making you feel every fucking inch of them. You exhale as you gather yourself—you hate him tonight, hate him for dragging you here, for dismissing you so easily—and you want to let him know it. Want him to feel it.

"No?" His fingers slip higher. You glance down the length of the table, nausea curling at the edges of your vision when you spot Lucius' blond head gleaming under the chandelier. Mattheo's voice is low, just for you. "Nothing at all?"

"Mattheo." Your voice is a hiss now, strained, your composure hanging by a thread. You want to slap the smug look off his face, but you don't. You can't. "Leave me alone, okay? I'm here. For you. I'm not happy about it, but I'm here. Just let me be. You're being—"

He cuts you off with a tilt of his head, jaw clenching at the exact moment his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your words catch in your throat, suffocate on themselves, die there.

"Maybe you're being a brat because you want me to choke you, huh?" The words land heavy, like an accusation, but worse because it isn't a question. He knows. "Maybe that's why you keep staring at my hands?"

Your body goes hot—alive in ways it hasn't been all night. The room erupts into laughter, some joke you missed, but it only heightens the tension wrapping tight around the two of you. His fingertips are teasing dangerously close to where they shouldn't be, and you're suddenly very thankful for the tablecloth draped over your lap—

"No." The word slips from your lips, barely a breath, lacking conviction. "No, I—"

"A brat and a liar," he hums, not letting you finish. He's enjoying this now. "You're really racking up the bad decisions tonight."

Salazar save you—his fingers slip higher still, and you clamp your thighs shut, a last-ditch effort to keep him from pushing this into dangerous territory. He responds by hooking a foot around yours to spread you back open—you bite your lip so hard it hurts.

"Maybe I'm just annoyed because I had better plans for my evening," you can't let him win so you spit the words out, voice quiet, hoping he doesn't catch the tremor in it. “Not that you care.”

You don't look at him. You can't. More laughter fills the room. Drowns out the shake in your breath.

He huffs, wine breath brushing your ear. "Keep this up and you may just end up with the evening you deserve."

"And what evening is that?" You spit back, ignoring the way the leather sticks to the heat of your thigh. "The one where I'm stuck here, listening to Draco prattle on about his latest Quidditch practice? Or perhaps another mind-numbing dinner, this time with Dumbledore and friends?"

The flicker of irritation in his eyes is subtle, but you see it. Oh, he's seething now. Dread pools, thick like syrup. You drop your eyes to the table.

"Oh no, not even close," if anger was a voice, it'd be his. Right now, in your ear. "I was thinking more of the one where I keep you cuffed to the bed all night. How does that one sound?"

Your pulse hammers, too fast, too loud—you can feel everything—the candlelight burning your skin, the way the chandelier's glow twinkles overhead, the way his hand is still, still so high on your fucking leg.

No one at the table notices. No one cares. But the feeling is crushing you, pulling you deeper into this private hell of his creation.

"You lost the chance for that when you brought me here," you bite out, hand darting under the table to try and pry his fingers off your thigh.

But his grip only tightens, his foot hooking tighter around yours, keeping you in place. He's relentless. And you hate it. You hate how much you don't want him to stop.

"If you're going to act like a brat, just say so," he growls, his voice a low rumble, "you know I'll deal with you later."

You roll your eyes. "Promises, promises."

You can't help it. You're baiting him now, pushing him just as hard as he's pushing you. The inevitable looms over you, and you know you've already lost. He's not budging. He never does. And you know—God, you know—you're in for it.

If this is the hell of his creation, you were the muse.

"More than a promise," his patience is gone, you can feel it. You wonder just how close you are to him dragging you from the room by your hair, not caring who sees. "Count your blessings."

“Oh, I'm counting."

And with that, you reach for your wine glass again, taking another slow, deliberate sip, letting the bitter liquid slide down your throat—you're oblivious, don't even notice the line you've crossed until it's too late—

His hand moves fast, leather fingers slipping past the last scrap of dignity you were clinging to. You choke on the wine you'd barely had the chance to swallow, the world tipping, spinning, crumbling as his thick, gloved finger glides through your slick folds, sinking into your cunt without a moments hesitation. You hadn't worn panties tonight—a decision that felt normal in the beginning but now screams of poor foresight—but there's no time for regret.

Not now, not with your boyfriend fingering you under the table at a family fucking dinner.

"Quiet, brat," he mutters, eyes twinkling as you cover your mouth, still half-choking on your drink. "Keep making sounds and someone is going to notice.”

Your heart skips, the pulse between your legs responding to the threat, clenching involuntarily around him. You're soaked, the heat of it spreads shame across your cheeks, burning like wildfire in your veins. Why are you this wet? This shouldn't turn you on—it's humiliating, degrading—

"Then maybe don't make me make sounds," you hiss, gripping the table so hard you think the wood might crack. "This is on you—"

He cuts you off, slipping a second finger into your cunt—and the sentence dies in your throat, swallowed by a sharp whimper you disguise as another cough.

"I said quiet." His voice is thin, dangerous. His fingers slide deeper, knuckle deep, and the heat threatens to tear you apart. "Bite your tongue or so help me—"

You bite down, but on your lip instead, trying to school your expression into something neutral, something that won't betray the war raging inside you. You two haven't fucked in days—you're more sensitive than usual—and this forbidden thrill only makes it worse, heightening every nerve, every pulse, as his fingers move in slow, deliberate thrusts inside you.

"You can’t," you breathe, the words coming out weak, a poor imitation of protest.  "Mattheo—"

"Shhh," he replies, voice low, a quiet storm gathering in the pit of your stomach. He leans closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Keep your sounds for later."

You snuff a groan, mind racing a million miles a minute—eyes darting around the table in a panic, scanning the faces for any sign that someone might notice. But no one does. The conversation moves on, unaware, the oblivious hum of normalcy in stark contrast to the chaos brewing beneath your skin.

This is crazy. It’s crazy in a way that only Mattheo Riddle could manage and you’re so fucking lost in it you don’t ever want it to stop.

He's not even looking at you anymore, fingers moving steadily, thumb brushing over your clit with the kind of casual cruelty that makes your body shudder. He's laughing, speaking to Draco as though he's not knuckle-deep inside you. The audacity of it makes your head spin. You're teetering on the edge—so close, dangerously close—and if you fall now, if you let go, you'll be too loud—you won't be able to stop yourself—

"Mattheo—please," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely holding on. His thumb rolls over your clit again, teasing, torturing. "You're gonna make me—"

"Yeah," he hardly looks at you. "I am." He crooks his fingers, pumping in slow, agonizing drags that send your brain spiraling into static. "Gonna make you lose the attitude. Gonna make you be good.”

Oh, you loathe him right now, deliciously. "Matt—"

"And you’re going to take it, like it’s not killing you." He continues—leaning in slightly now, examining the way your breath is coming in shallow, broken gasps. “Just like I’ve had to take seeing you in that dress…and pretend it hasn’t been killing me.”

Your eyes flicker around the table again, still desperate for any sign that someone might notice, just to give him a reason to stop—but the conversation continues, oblivious. The leather of his gloves is slick with you now, a wet sound breaking through the steady hum of voices with every movement of his hand.

You part your lips to hiss another pathetic plea—a warning to stop before you explode—but he cuts you off—

“One more word and I'll make sure not a single person at this table leaves without hearing you scream.” He pulls his fingers out nice and slow, rubbing some of the wetness down your thigh before he moves back and pushes back in. “Do you want that?"

You shoot him a glare, but shake your head nonetheless.

"Didn't think so," he mutters, his voice dropping even lower, fingers working deeper, faster. "Look at them," he hisses in your ear, and your gaze flicks over the table again. "They don't even care. Too caught up in their own bullshit to notice, aren't they? But I see you. I see how flushed your chest is—" his thumb presses harder, sending a shockwave through you—"I know what that means."

"I'm not—" your thighs tremble, you’re denying it as though you have any power to stop it. He’s just too goddamn good at this. "I'm not going to—"

"You are," he whispers, and you almost let your eyes roll. "I can feel you soaking my hand. Little cunt is begging me to finish this, isn't it?" His fingers thrust deep, hitting a spot that makes you work to choke down a sob. "You and that fucking attitude can deny it all you want, but I feel how close you are.”

The room erupts into laughter, a sudden burst of noise that pulls all eyes to the other end of the table. Your breath comes out in a trembling exhale, letting out a whimper you know won’t be heard over the commotion—the distraction your only saving grace as you fight to keep still, to keep from rocking against his hand and giving him what he wants.

You lean into him, pleading. "Mattheo, please—if you don't stop, I'll—"

"You poor thing," he hums, his thumb circling slower now, torturously precise. "Sounds like a you problem, princess. Shouldn't have been such a brat tonight."

"I'm sorry," you choke out, words barely coherent but you see the flash in your boyfriend’s eyes. It’s the two words he’s been looking for all night. "Please, just—"

And then—his fingers slip out of you. As abrupt as a cold bucket of water over your head.

You blink, almost gasping at the loss, just as the table erupts into another fit of laughter and you're left aching, disoriented, while everyone begins to stand. Merlin help you—dinners over and you had no goddamn idea. You feel like a robot moving in slow motion as you watch Mattheo wipe his slick fingers off on his thigh, smirking. The room is a blur of goodbyes and handshakes, and before you can even catch your breath, he's got you by the wrist, pulling you away from the scene, dragging you out to the car.

The passenger door of his blacked-out Audi flies open, and you're urged inside, your legs trembling, the evidence of everything he's done to you still slick between your thighs. The leather seats beneath you remind you all too well of the feel of his gloves, of the fingers that had just been inside you, and your cunt clenches at the thought, still throbbing with unfulfilled need. Mattheo slides into the driver's seat, a silent inferno of fury, not sparing you a glance as he throws the car into drive, tearing out of the Malfoy estate.

His leather-gloved hand rests on the stick shift, and you stare at it, unable to look away.

"You're staring again," he breaks the tension, his voice tight.

"Yes." This time, you don't even bother denying it. Not after what he'd done. He’d long tamed your attitude. You can’t fight it anymore. “I am.”

His chest rises sharply, his grip on the gear shift tightening. You bite your lip, feeling your core throb painfully in response.

"Learned your lesson, I hope," he mutters, eyes focused on the dark road in front of you.

"I suppose," you murmur, still breathless. The wetness between your thighs is impossible to ignore, and so you reach for his hand—tracing your fingertips over the smooth leather before curling your fingers around two of his, stroking them. "I suppose I learned something."

His breath catches when you jerk his fingers, and he sucks in a shallow breath of air through his teeth. You clench at the sound of it. Oh, how you goddamn love being a little tease.

"Mm." His voice is gravel, rough and uneven—you notice the bulge in his pants, his cock straining against the expensive fabric. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You nod, your fingers still stroking his. "Yes."

"Yes?" His voice lowers, a prompt you recognize all too well.

"Yes, Mattheo—daddy—" you correct yourself, your breath hitching. God, you’ve been here so many times with him. You know what he’s looking for. "I want to cum."

His jaw tightens, and he wets his lips. "You want my cock. You need it."

"Yes, daddy," you repeat, the words spilling out easily, exactly what he wants to hear, and exactly what you want to say. "I want your cock. I need it."

"Then finish yourself off," he growls, his gaze flicking toward you for a brief moment, his eyes blazing. "Make your filthy little cunt cum, and if you’re a good girl, I'll let you suck me off."

The command sends an insatiable fucking thrill through you, and without a second thought, you move to obey him—night air biting your skin as you shift your dress up and your fingers find the slick mess between your thighs. A long, long over-suppressed moan escapes you the moment your fingers graze your clit, and Mattheo‘a eyes flash over, jaw working as he watches for a split second before focusing back on the road.

"Fuck," you groan as you push two fingers into your soaked cunt, your head falling back against the seat, back arching. "Oh, fuck—"

"That's it," he murmurs, free hand moving from the gear shift to palm his erection through his pants. You swear you hear him moan. "You wish it was me, don't you? Wish it was my cock inside you."

"Yes, daddy, I do," you whimper, your hips rocking against your hand, fingers fucking deeper into your pussy, lewd sounds filling the steamed space within the car. "I wish it was your cock…inside me."

"Fucking brat with a dirty mouth," he hisses, his fingers working at his belt, eyes darting between the road and you. "Cum for me. Show me how you’re good for me.”

You groan, unable to believe how fucking wet you are, slick coating your hand and thighs, dripping all over your boyfriends expensive leather seat—Gods, you’re so close, the edge that he'd left you teetering on earlier now drawing closer with full force. You add another finger, curling them against your throbbing walls, and Mattheo's breath stutters, his focus wavering as he watches you unravel.

"Look at you. So fucking shameless." His hand slips inside his pants, and he starts stroking himself, his cock already leaking. "I bet you wish I’d pull this car over right now, huh? Fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

You moan at how goddamn wrecked he sounds—forcing a smirk through your open mouth, words coming out shaky. "And how do I—ah—how do I deserve to be fucked, daddy?"

The car jerks, just slightly, Mattheo groans.

"Like the nasty little slut you are," his eyes flash to you again, his grip tightening on his cock, pumping faster. "Until you forget how to talk. Until you can't say anything but my fucking name."

Your world spins, orgasm roaring in. "Mattheo—daddy—oh fuck—"

"Earn it," he snarls, his voice raw. "Earn my cock."

One, two more deep pumps into your cunt and you erupt, finally—body seizing, orgasm crashing over you with violent force, leaving you gasping, your back arching off the seat as your wanton moans fill the steamy car. Mattheo watches you through hooded eyes, stroking his cock faster as you whimper and moan his name, orgasm intensified due to him edging you all through dinner—somehow managing to keep the car steady throughout all of this.

Part of you wonders if he’s charmed it.

"Good fucking girl—there we go," he purrs, and his hand reaches over, seizes the back of your head, urging you toward his lap. "Now take your reward."

You’re buzzing—breaths scattered, but there’s no hesitation, no argument. You shift to your knees on his seat, your mouth watering as you wrap a hand around the base of him, tongue teasing the tip before his hand in your hair directs you deeper—lips wrapping around his throbbing cock as he slides into your mouth, hot and heavy. He groans, his hips thrusting forward, just barely, and you gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat.

"Fuck, that's it," he grunts, his voice low and strained. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be choked on my cock. To be shut up like this."

You can't answer, your mouth too full of him as he directs your head to bob along him, as he thrusts into you, each movement deeper, harder. Tears prick your eyes, but you don't stop, your hands gripping his thighs as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks and drooling.

"Fuck—yeah, that’s it. Choke on it," he snarls, other hand keeping the car impossibly steady. "Wanna see those tears, baby. Wanna hear you gagging on it."

You moan around him at those words, the heat of them shooting straight to your still-soaked cunt, tears spilling from your eyes as his hips buck up, slamming the back of your throat. Mattheo is the most impatient man you’ve known, and it shows in moments like this, when he’s sick of your attitude—when he drops the seat back, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the wheel, his knee keeping it steady as he thrusts deep into your throat. You’re gagging and moaning, working your tongue along the length of him, until with a final grunt, he spills into your mouth and you swallow every drop, his shaking breaths and gutted groans filling the car as he rides out his release.

"Fuck. That’s my girl. My good fuckin’ girl," he pants, his voice rough with satisfaction as he releases you, your lips swollen and wet as you slump back in your seat. "You earned that."

You know you did.

[hard-core-super-star]

losing focus [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: as unexpected as it is, you become a permanent part of wanda and natasha's relationship.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but many feelings; mommy + daddy kink; implied dom/sub dynamics; mentions of petplay; fingering [R receiving]; cunnilingus [R receiving]; overstimulation; nipple play; so many petnames; wanda and nat being competitive; badly proofread

wordcount: 3.7k

a/n: hi again! so, i was originally supposed to post a bishova fic today buuuut i got too attached and wrote a part two of "push me on the counter, call me princess" because i could. i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It's difficult to define what your relationship with the witch and her grumpy assassin girlfriend has turned into. 

You know you're not really a part of their relationship, at least not officially, but you're not a mere observer either. Your main connection is with Wanda, which Natasha doesn't seem to mind, but the three of you are well aware of the way you simply started...joining them...all the time.

It started with small things. With Wanda inviting you to sit on her lap during movie nights. With Natasha begrudgingly letting the witch tie you down on their shared bed. With both of them holding you close at night, each of them murmuring some excuse about why they needed the physical contact.

You didn't mind. What kind of fool would mind being sandwiched between two of the most fearsome and beautiful Avengers?

But it very quickly stopped being enough for you.

You didn't want to be greedy, you knew your connection with Wanda wasn't right in the first place. You should have never allowed her to enchant you to the point of weaseling your way into her relationship.

And yet here you are.

Tucked under Wanda's arm while you watch her favorite sitcom.

A part you of you wants to be unhappy. To act like you don't want to be part of this.

But the truth is you do.

You really like this.

"You're thinking too much, detka." There's no judgement in the witch's tone, just the soothing sound of her accent. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head, instantly feeling overwhelmed from the mere thought of sharing your worries with her. You're not even sure why you're worried. Why there's a part of you that can't seem to settle, despite how warm and comfortable the older woman's embrace is.

"I'm fine," you mumble.

Wanda hates it when you mumble, but you can't help it. You also can't help the way you turn toward her, your face finding refuge in the crook of her neck.

She allows it for it now. Clearly, she doesn't need to read your thoughts to know how much you're struggling with them.

You want to feel embarrassed about it, but it's hard to feel anything except her palm pressing into your side. Her fingers slip under the hem of your (well...Natasha's) shirt and she draws small circles against your skin.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Wanda watches her show and you catch glimpses of it whenever you gather the courage to peak your head up and out of the comfort of her neck.

You've practically settled into the comfort when the door opens and your bubble of safety is popped.

Your shoulders tense until you hear the telltale sound of Natasha's sigh. There's an edge of annoyance to the sound that you've grown to associate with her. "Wanda, if you wanted a pet, we could have just gotten a cat."

Her words make the witch chuckle despite herself. She knew, no matter how cold the other woman acted, she was simply pretending. It was always easier for her to put her walls back up when she was unsure of something instead of going with the flow.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart."

Wanda gives your side a small pinch, not to hurt you but to encourage you to say hi. You don't really want to, you're still not sure how to act around the older woman, but you do it anyway.

"Hi, Nat."

The redhead rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles. "Hello, kitten. Have you been behaving?"

It's a small thing but it's a start. A reminder that she doesn't actually dislike you and she's not mad at the way things have turned out.

That maybe...she's softer than she looks.

"Yes, Daddy," you reply, a soft blush coating your cheeks as you address Natasha by her title. "I listened to Mommy all day."

The small smile on the redhead's face grows at your words. As tough as she looks, she completely adores the way you instantly submit to her without any objections. The way it all seems so natural. So weirdly right.

"Without pouting?" She asks, raising her eyebrow in the way that makes you tremble.

The idea of lying crosses your mind but you know better than that. Plus, there's no use in lying when you're sitting next to a literal mind reader.

"Well...no. But it wasn't my fault!"

Natasha doesn't seem convinced, although she does seem amused. Her eyes drift to Wanda, who can't seem to wipe the proud grin off her face. "It wasn't?"

"It wasn't," the witch replies. "She just got pouty because I told her we had to wait for you before we could play."

"Oh, I see. So, you didn't get pouty, you got needy, is that right?"

You nod, her tone making your head swim in an all too familiar way.

Natasha crawls into bed and shifts herself until she's laying down between your spread legs. The flimsy material of your shorts does little to keep your arousal hidden away from the older woman.

"Come here, detka," Wanda murmurs as her hands grip your hips.

She effortlessly lifts you up until you're sitting between her legs, your back pressed firmly against her front. It's a subtle show of dominance, a reminder that despite Natasha's stubbornness, Wanda's the one in charge. The one you actually belong to.

But there's also a soft side to it. A reminder that she's right there in case things get too overwhelming. That you can back out at any moment and they won't be upset.

It's far too late for that, though. Far too late to act like you don't want them both. Like you don't need them.

Natasha's hands bring you back. Her fingers trail a teasing path up your thighs until they reach the waistband of your shorts.

There's a wordless question in her gaze. One that makes your heart skip a beat.

You nod in response and she wastes no time in getting rid of the garments in the way.

Her eyes take in every inch of exposed skin, the softness in her smile turning slightly predatory. It's a sight you're growing very used to seeing.

"Look at you," she coos, although her tone is far more teasing than sweet. "You're already so wet for us. Mommy's left you needy for too long, huh?"

"I'm not the bad guy here," Wanda says with a chuckle. "It wasn't my idea."

Natasha rolls her eyes but your attention is captured by the witch and her warm hands that slip under your shirt. Her fingers make their way up your torso, her nails dragging against your skin and making your back arch in response.

"Don't listen to her, detka, she's just jealous."

You nod along to the redhead's words even though they don't fully register in your mind. All you know is you're stuck between them as they engage in yet another unnecessary competition.

Wanda notices first, far too used to the subtle cues that give away your growing dependence on them. Your growing need to let go and let them take over.

"There you go, sweetheart, doesn't that feel nice?" Her voice is soft and sweet in your ear, a constant lullaby that allows you to sink deeper against her.

"Mhmm," you hum, your hands reaching out for Natasha as her lips join her fingers in exploring your skin.

The witch is quick to stop you before you get too carried away. Her hands wrap around your wrists and she holds them down, allowing her girlfriend to keep teasing you. "Just relax, baby, Nat knows what to do."

You don't doubt her words for a second, but you also don't doubt the teasing mood the redhead seems to be in. You would complain if you weren't so busy trying to keep yourself still.

It's easier said than done, though, and Natasha quickly tightens her grip on your thighs, keeping you exposed to her gaze and completely still. "Come on, detka, don't you want to show Mommy what a good girl you are?"

Her words make your hips buck, but instead of teasing you for it, she sives right into the main event. Her breath ghosts the most sensitive part of your body before her lips wrap around your swollen clit.

The sensation borders on far too much far too quickly and yet the pleasure seems to overwhelm your body before the sensitivity hits you. Your head falls back against Wanda's shoulder as your lips part in a long moan.

The witch takes advantage of your change in position and attaches her lips to your neck, switching back and forth between gentle kisses and harsh nips. "There you go, isn't that better? Don't think, darling, just let us take over."

The answer is more than obvious considering how far gone your mind is. All you can fully focus on is the soft fuziness feeling your head and the pleasure you're drowing under.

"Daddy," you whine under your breath, your hips shifting against Natasha's mouth.

The redhead simply hums, lapping at your arousal like a woman starved. She doesn't want to admit it but hearing you call her that does things to her that she can't explain. There's a certain type of satisfaction she's never felt with Wanda, even when her girlfriend is in a more submissive mood.

It's what draws her closer to you despite how hard she tries to pretend like she doesn't care. And maybe she doesn't care, but the way she commits herself to making you fall apart, completely overwhelmed by pleasure tells another story.

Wanda's quick to notice how fuzzy you are by now, how perfectly pliable you've become with just a few soft strokes of Natasha's tongue against your throbbing clit. She lets go of your hands, trusting you not to move, before her fingers slip under your shirt again, trailing up until she reaches your breasts.

"Such a good girl for us," she murmurs, as her fingers find your nipples. "Such a pretty little pet."

You're stuck between wanting to arch your back and buck your hips. Ultimately, you end up doing nothing which is exactly what they like. It allows them to please you and use you in whatever way they want.

It's a little surprising how devoted Natasha seems to be to just pleasuring you, but your head is far too fuzy for you to try and think about that. The implications themselves aren't lost on you, though, and they only add to the growing coil in settled in your stomach.

"Don't tell me you're getting ahead of yourself, kotenok." The redhead leans back just enough to look up at you, dark green eyes drinking in every inch of your face. "Good girls don't act like greedy sluts, do they?"

"No, Daddy."

Your instant response makes her smirk and she rewards you by sinking two fingers into your wet cunt.

A gasp slips out of your parted lips and Wanda takes the opportunity to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples. The stinging pain mixes perfectly with the sudden pleasure and you can't stop your body from trembling under their expert hands.

"Please," you whine. "Can I cum?"

"Already?" Wanda chuckles. "Did I leave you too needy earlier?"

"Mhmm, so needy." You don't fully know what you're saying, you just know you can't hold back anymore and the last thing you need is to earn yourself a punishment. "Please."

Your words only seem to spur Natasha on and, instead of giving you mercy like you're asking for, she starts thrusting her fingers in and out of you, groaning as she feels your walls clenching around the digits. "Fuck, such a messy pet."

"I think she's about to get even messier."

The way they talk about you like you're not even there only adds fuel to your desperate arousal. There's nothing more for you to do besides wait for Natasha to decide to give you the mercy you're begging for.

You half-expect her to not give it to you just so she can punish you for it later. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, and you're certain she's only gotten more obssesed with the idea since then.

"Yeah? Is Mommy right, detka? Are you going to make a mess for us?" You know Natsha's teasing you and yet you don't feel the usual flush of humilation. Instead, the warmth that floods you is exactly the same one you feel when Wanda uses her sweetly condescing tone on you.

They're such different tones, such different people, and yet you can't deny the way you feel about them. The way every part of you begs for them.

"Yes, please-" Natasha steals your words by curling her fingers inside your wet heat, your thighs shaking from the force of holding back your orgasm. "Wanna cum, please-"

Wanda shushes you, knowing exactly how to soothe you when you need it most. She doesn't give you the permission you need, though, and in your desperation, you miss the silent conversation the two lovers have.

The seconds seem to stretch into hours until finally, Natasha gives in. "Go ahead, detka, cum for us."

She dives back in, her tongue drawing circles on your sensitive cit as her fingers move in and out of your cunt. The pleasure builds and builds, spurred on by Wanda's fingers playing with your nipples.

All it takes is the witch pinching your hardened peaks once more for you to fall over the edge for them.

Your mouth falls open in a loud moan, your whole body shaking as the waves of pleasure overtake your senses. Even as you lose control of yourself, the two women don't relent or give you a second to catch your breath.

As much as you'd love to complain about it, you can't when all you can think about is the electric sensations coursing through your body.

You cry out as Natasha continues her assault on your oversensitive clit, your hips shaking as you try to move away from her. Instead of scolding you for moving so much, she groans against you, causing your walls to clench around her in response.

"Don't fight it, sweetheart," Wanda mumbles, her lips grazing your jaw. "Just let Daddy make you feel good. It's what you wanted, right? Now take it like a good girl."

"Uh-huh, fu-" Your attempts at words turn into needy sounds that spur the redhead on.

"One more, detka, do it for me, yeah?"

Despite your initial complaints, your body gives in to the pleasure almost instantly. It's not fully surprising but it's certainly overwhelming and it sends you deeper into the fuziness filling your mind.

Natasha does her best to hold you down even as your hips buck desperately into her face. She works a third finger inside you and it takes all your self-restraint to not fall apart at the feeling.

"Please!" You gasp. "Can I cum?"

This time, the witch takes over and gently guides you toward your orgasm. "Go ahead, angel, you've been so good for us, just let go."

So, you do.

You give up control and let go.

You're not sure what happens, all you know is your whole body tenses as the coil in your stomach snaps free. You're too far gone to realize what a mess you make of yourself and the sheets beneath you, but the satisfaction in Natasha's movements isn't lost on you.

She works you through the seemingly never-ending aftershocks, easing herself away from your clit and slowly pulling her fingers out of your cunt. "So fucking beautful..."

Your body finally goes limp and you practically melt against Wanda. Her arms wrap around your waist while she places soft kisses to every inch of your face she can reach. "Good girl. You did so well."

You hum in response, barely registering Natasha's movements as she does her best to clean you up.

The bed shifts when the redhead finishes and you instantly know she's moving away from both of you. You try to complain but the words don't seem to form.

"Shhh, just rest, kotenok, you need it."

You want to argue and assure her you feel fine, but you can't seem to find the strength to open your eyes. All you manage to do is whine, earning yourself a chuckle from Wanda.

"Don't pout, baby. You're my good girl, right?"

You wait for Natasha to correct her. To jump in and say you're their good girl.

But she doesn't.

And the longer the silence goes on, the more it hurts your feelings.

"Mommy..." You whisper.

She presses a soft kiss to your temple as her hands go back to caressing your sides. "I know. We'll figure it out later, just sleep for now."

There's little for you to do besides give in and let sleep overcome you.

* * *

When you wake up, you instantly notice the lack of warmth against you. Your head's still a little fuzzy but you feel slightly more in control now. You're also still pretty drowsy, though.

You attempt to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes as you lift your head, your eyes searching around the room for Wanda.

Instead of the witch, you find her girlfriend curled up in the reading chair in the corner of the room. There's a certain tension in her form that tells you far more than she'd like.

"Maria called," Natasha says, her voice colder than you've heard it in a while. "Wanda had to go. It sounded like she'll be gone for a few weeks."

Oh.

At least that explains why the redhead looks so...vulnerable and...lost.

Their relationship has always been a bit of a mystery to you. Despite the many nights you've listened to Wanda complain about the assassin's shitty coping mechanisms, you don't know many details about their connection.

You just know that somehow...they work. Despite their traumas and their pain, they understand each other.

And then there's you.

You're even less sure of where you fit in.

Of how Natasha feels about you.

"You can at least pretend to be happy to spend time with me," she says, effectively cutting off your thoughts.

"I am," you reply without skipping a beat. "I just...didn't think you'd be thrilled about it."

"Why? Because I'm the big bad girlfriend who has no feelings? Who doesn't give a shit about anyone?"

Despite her attempts to sound mad, her tone gives away how hurt she is. How terrified she is that you see her like that. That you think she's half as bad as the stories you've heard about her.

"No, I just...well, I know you and Wanda had that arrangement and everything but you didn't ask for this. I thought you just saw me as her annoying pet."

The corners of her mouth twitch a little as she tries to hold in her smile. "I did at first. It's nothing personal, hearing Wanda say she wanted you was...a little hard to deal with."

"Yeah, I figured." You sit up with your back against the headrest, your eyes absentmindedly admiring Natasha's features. Even with the distance between you, she looks stunning. "It wasn't easy for me either, y'know? I felt really guilty about it."

"That didn't stop you from sleeping with her the first time, though."

"Well, no but...in my defense, you can't exactly say no to Wanda when her mind is made up."

That earns you a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, you can say that again. Why do you think you're here? Wanda didn't want to let you go after the first time."

It's not necessarily news considering how things went down after the first time, but you can't act like your heart doesn't skip a beat at her words. The confirmation that the witch wanted you is one thing, but you're still not sure how Natasha feels. Something that's not surprising considering how closed off she is.

"And you?" You ask, hoping you sound less nervous than you feel.

It takes Natasha a few seconds to form her response. You can't exactly blame her but the silence makes your skin crawl. The fear that she doesn't want you, that she doesn't care, rises up within you the longer it drags on.

Finally, she eases your mind.

"Let's just say you've grown on me, kitten."

It's not much and yet it's more than enough for you. It reinforces the connection you've started feeling with her. The bond that demands to be nurtured despite how unusual it is.

Then again, wanting unsual things is kind of your thing at this point.

"You've grown on me too," you mutter, doing your best to ignore the warmth that spreads along your face.

"That doesn't mean you're not still our pet, though," she clarifies. "...if you want, that is. It can stay casual or we can turn it into more. We can train you. I can train you, if you want to be our submissive."

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in.

You nod before you even know what you're doing. You don't need to think about it, though, it's what you want. You want them. And all the little nuances that come with them.

Natasha watches you for a moment, her eyes studying you as if she's waiting for you to realize what you're doing and back out instantly. You can't exactly put your reasons into words to ease her mind. All you know is you've never wanted anything the way you want them.

Despite not being a mindreader like her girlfriend, the assasin is quick to move toward you once the thought of being fully theirs crosses your mind.

"You sure you've got what it takes, kitten?" She asks as she settles onto your lap. "I'm a lot to handle."

"I can take it," you reply, your hands landing on her waist without a second thought. "I want you."

Finally, your words are enough to break through her defenses. 

It doesn't feel like enough and yet it's exactly what she had wanted to hear. What she was afraid you wouldn't want.

"Then you have me," she says, her voice far softer than you've ever heard it.

There's so much you want to say, but words don't seem to be enough right now. So, instead, you lean forward and press your lips to hers.

You're not completely sure how you ended up here but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

[lambilegs]

your best friends older sister!sevika fanfic had me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure. love the way you write her as a mean teasing flirt ☺️ may i suggest roommate!sevika who does everything she can to get reader worked up such as bringing home girls to purposefully fuck them loud as fuck to make reader jealous 🙂‍↕️ hehe

roommate!sevika headcanons

note to anon: OMGGGG thank you so much bae!! and right? I feel like if she found someone who got on her nerves, she'd enjoy being the rudest flirt alive, hehe. ALSO, YES, I LOVE THIS IDEA SOOOO MUCH. took me a while to write it out, but I hope you enjoy!! <33 contains: sfw and nsfw content (minors + ageless blogs dni), reader receiving oral and strap, porn-watching, kinda voyeuristic (reader gets horny from sevika having sex with other girls), throat-grabbing, smoking, reader's body is referred to with the terms "pussy," "g-spot" and "clit"

roommate!sevika who doesn't really bother talking to you at first, just keeping to herself. she's not a fan of sharing her living space with people, but money's tight, and this is what she can afford right now. she's not interested in friendship, or some sort of everlasting bond to form between the two of you. she just wants to live in amicable peace, and have her space to herself.

and so, the two of you barely talk. you try, at first, but it becomes clear three days in that she's utterly uninterested. which, you can't lie, is a pretty huge disappointment, considering that the prospect of living with an incredibly hot and stoic butch was one that had you thrilled initially. but, unfortunately, she seems anything but truly interested in any sort of connection with you.

roommate!sevika who remains in her bedroom most of the time, working on one contraption or the other, or watching videos on her laptop.

or gaming. because, yes, she games, and she does try her best to keep quiet, she really does. but, the idiots she plays with have her occasionally shouting, cursing loudly as they cause her team to lose yet again.

every now and then, she'll hang out in the living room, watching TV, but that's usually reserved to when you're not home, or locked up in your own bedroom. when you come out to cook in the kitchen, or sit on the love seat so that you can fold laundry, she'll usually linger for a few minutes, carefully observing, before standing up to head back to her bedroom.

it's not like she hates you or anything. you're pretty okay -- nice to her and not sloppy and disgusting like some of the other roommates she's had before. you even share the food you cook with her, and have always been cooperative about splitting chores with her. so, in sevika's books, you're not a person who she's keen on disliking, and she actually feels pretty damn lucky for having found your ad.

roommate!sevika who does nothing to quell the sexual frustration you've had for months due to the serious dry spell that's been plaguing you. walls are thin, and you can hear the loud ass girl she's brought home, moaning and whining as sevika's bed frame rocks against the wall. every now and then, her noises are met with sevika's hushed grunts and filthy words of, "tell me, who's a good girl?"

you twist and turn in bed, rolling over to glare at your phone. it's 2:03AM -- how does she still have the energy to be fucking at this time? you're exhausted, irritated, and insanely horny from what you're hearing. because horribly enough, this girl doesn't sound like she's faking -- no, she's truly enjoying herself. sevika is just that good of a lay, it seems. and that piece of knowledge has your pussy beginning to dampen, soaking through your panties.

if you shut your eyes, and drift into the hazy world of dream land, you can pretend that it's you and her making those noises. that she's the one fucking you right now. god, just the thought of that notion has your clit aching.

but, it also has you feeling a strike of insecurity. because the truth is, that probably won't be you and sevika anytime soon. she doesn't even give you the time of day. you don't know what it is you've done to her, but she avoids you like the plague, never returning any of your offers of kindness or bonding. and it's beginning to sting really bad. if she can canoodle with a stranger (and, yeah, you're painfully aware it's a stranger, since her text said, "Hey. I met a girl at the bar tonight, is it okay if I bring her over?") well enough to have sex with her that very night, why can she barely spare you attention as her roommate?

the thought is a cold wash over your horniness, and all it leaves is a bitter taste on your tongue.

roommate!sevika who's giving you the most bewildered stare as you shake the soaked thong of the girl she brought home last night, yelling about how you're convinced that said girl stole one of your underwear after this one got ruined.

"how would you even know that?" sevika snickers, eyeing you in disbelief. "are you that anal?"

"my drawer was half open, sevika! and I never leave it like that because I'd knock into it on my way in otherwise!" you snap, your eyes wide and glossy with anger. sevika's honestly a bit unnerved by the sight -- she's never seen you this pissed, but jesus, she thought it'd take more than a singular, flimsy piece of fabric to get you to this state.

"it's just one pair," she deadpans. "I'm sorry serena -- or, selena, I don't know -- took it, but it's not that big of a big deal."

"maybe not for you, but it is for me! listen, I don't care if you don't know the names of the girls you bring here, or anything about them -- but, just make sure they're not a thieving dumbass, okay? is that enough for you?"

sevika's jaw shifts, irritation beginning to sizzle in her from the condescension layering your words. you're talking to her like she's a fucking child, tone taking on a faux sense of guidance.

"okay, listen, I'm sorry she took your underwear, okay? I'll buy you a new pair if you're that bent out of shape over it. but, you don't need to be such a piss baby about it."

your head flinches back, eyes sharpening in clear anger. sevika feels a twinge of guilt. she knows she fucked up, since ensuring the girl from last night didn't do anything out of line was her responsibility. but, your anger has her own defenses kicking in automatically, and she's equal measures embarrassed and angered at being spoken to this way.

"I have every right to be pissed if you're gonna be stupid about the people you bring in our apartment."

well, that manages to snap her out of it. "because I could just magically anticipate that she'd steal your shit? I get it, she did something shitty, but I couldn't have known that. I've got lots of skills, but that's not one of them."

you scoff, the noise loud and unabashed. "oh, trust me, you made a great display of your skills last night. not that you seem to fucking spare any of that attention to someone unless you're gonna get a good lay out of it."

sevika immediately freezes at that, her brain running into overdrive. your tone has shifted into something biting, but lowered with what seems like -- frustration? frustration not just at that girl, but at sevika herself. and if you're frustrated about sevika possessing an attentiveness that she spares only to certain people, then that must mean--

sevika snickers softly. oh, yeah, you've definitely given her an opening in this argument. "what, you jealous?"

immediately, you're spluttering, broken words and half-gasps flinging from your mouth, sentences barely strung together. it only heightens sevika's newfound delight in having found something to hold above your head.

"you are, aren't you? what, haven't had a good fuck lately? need me to get one of my boys to come over and take care of you?"

sevika can see the way you work your teeth behind your pursed lips, and it only causes her flame of amusement to burn brighter.

"first of all, I'm not fucking pitiful, okay? I can handle getting fucked. second of all, I'm not into guys, something you'd know if you even spoke to me for two fucking seconds."

sevika's eyes widen at that. this interaction definitely had her suspecting it, but to hear you confirm it only sends another wave of satisfaction, mingled with surprise, through her. so, you're gay and bitter over having no attention, and specifically not hers? you're making it too easy.

"so, what, you're into me?" she asks, her voice twisted with snark. "been wanting me this whole time? mad I'm not giving you attention?"

she knows it's risky to be goading her own roommate like this, flirting and teasing. but, she can't help it -- not when your mouth is finally shut and she knows she has something on you.

she stalks up to you slowly, using her height to her advantage as she dips her head down, staring at you with a piercing smirk. "well?"

your eyes are wide, blinking rapidly like a pretty little butterfly. they flicker down to her mouth, and sevika feels something stir in her gut at the sight. she's always been neutral about you, but there's something undeniably attractive about seeing you like this -- seething, wanting, in need of someone to take care of you. as her gaze roves over your features, she finds herself struck for the first time that you're, frankly, pretty good-looking.

but, then, you draw in a sharp breath, and sevika reels back in surprise when you hiss, "no."

she's left baffled as you whirl on your heel, stomping to your room, muttering out, "perverted jackass."

sevika chuckles at that. perverted jackass, huh?

roommate!sevika whose noises are so bothersome that you cover your ears, gritting your teeth at the rattling-headboard noises that are running through the apartment for the fifth fucking time in these past two weeks. how sevika manages to get this many girls in her bed is beyond your human capabilities. all you know is that it was never this often in the past. no, this -- this is fucking personal. you can feel it in the way she shoots you a haughty smirk the next morning, and how she encourages the people she's with to moan louder, move back faster. it's gotten to the point where you can even hear the fucking skin smacks.

it makes you utterly enraged. and impossibly soaked. but, for your own sense of justice and determination, you refuse to get off to the noises. in fact, everytime she continues her habit of asking you politely if she can bring someone over, you ensure to respond in as chipper a tone as possible. you don't want her thinking she's having an impact on you. you want to convey the self-image of being unbothered, unfazed and completely okay with every little dig she's attempting with you.

what makes you snap is when you're on your way to work one morning, and from where she's seated on the couch, lip bitten in frustration as she does a crossword puzzle like a fucking nerd, she says, "enjoyed the show last night? I can pick someone else up tonight. thought I'd ask in case you need to charge your vibrator in advance."

stay calm. stay calm. don't attack her. don't sit on her face.

"well," you drawl with a forced smile, "you'd like that, wouldn't you? so, your next girl can steal it for herself."

she immediately bursts into a loud round of laughter, her gap revealing itself unabashedly. your eyes linger on it, struck with a sudden bolt of fondness. it's one part of her that is unarguably adorable.

you turn away before she can catch you, heading to the kettle to pour the boiling water into your tumblr.

"wait, no," sevika calls out from the couch, eyes still fixed on the newspaper. "the counter."

your eyes curiously travel to the wooden surface, gulping in surprise when you see a fresh pot already made. you know sevika always drinks coffee before her shift at the mechanic's, but that's usually just a single cup. never an entire pot like this. "did you, uh, make this for me?"

"don't flatter yourself. just take some."

her voice is a grunt and no-nonsense, not allowing for her meaning to be minced whatsoever. she wants you taking the coffee, and that's that.

with a bitten smile, you pour it into your tumblr, the pleasant scent of it wafting through your nostrils. it's the brand you always use, the one you've offered to sevika before that she's never actually taken you up on. at least until now.

she's at least half-redeemed to you until she says, "just needed some energy after last night, you know? wait, what am I saying? you were listening, won't you?"

your skin stretches over your knuckles as you tightly grip the doorknob.

jackass.

roommate!sevika who you try to get back at by watching obscenely loud porn. sometimes, you touch yourself to it, while other times, you just let it play in the background while folding your laundry, or wiping the dust from your furniture. you know it's immature as fuck, and will probably never equate to the personal touch of her being the one to incite those noises when trying to piss you off. but, hey, if it keeps her up at night and pisses her off, you're more than content. and judging from the glares she silently shoots you in the morning, you can tell you're succeeding.

at least, until one day, she leans in from behind when you're making eggs, her mouth lowered to your ear, and mutters, "c'mon, you're easy on the eyes. can't be so hard to find someone that you resort to porn, right?"

your nostrils flare, nearly slamming down the pan on the stove. "oh, fuck off."

"don't you mean 'fuck me'?"

your mouth cracks into an almost-smile. it's one thing to wanna fuck sevika, it's a whole other thing to have your stomach tighten up from how funny she is. makes it all the harder to deal with your current predicament. "no, I mean 'fuck you,' actually -- thanks for helping with that clarification."

"anytime," she huffs in amusement, lightly smacking your shoulder, which sends you nearly tumbling from her strength.

you glare at her back as she leaves. god, it's a good back. you hate that she has a good back.

roommate!sevika who's almost... thankful for this situation? because paying more attention to you, being in your way more often, ends up revealing to her that she was, admittedly, a damn fool for not having taken notice of you earlier.

because you're smart. like, wicked smart. what she suspects is mostly out of spite, you've started leaning over her shoulder, your scent flooding her senses as you spoil the answers to her crossword puzzles. at first, she rolled her eyes, grumbling that she would've gotten it without your help. but, now, she anticipates your stupid antics before you can even think about disrupting her mood with it. that translates to her raising the newspaper to you right as you meet her in the kitchen, an action which you first met with a disapproving glare.

but, in a matter of days, you're sitting right next to her, a pencil in hand, the two of you debating over answers together and groaning in frustration whenever you get something wrong.

when you bump her arm, whining, "c'mon, I told you it was wrong!" she can feel her face heat up like some fucking teenager.

and when you roll your eyes when her answer ends up being the right on, it only eggs her on, the motion usually followed with her murmuring, "sorry, what was that again?"

whenever you two finish, she always says, "thanks for ruining it," to which you singsong, "anytime, sevika."

and she hates to admit it, but you're funny, too. there've been several times where she's actually been rendered silent from just how good a comeback of yours was, or where you said something that caught her so off guard she nearly laughed in a moment where she was just annoyed.

and fuck her, you're so fine. so goddamn fine.

a notion that seizes at her when you come out of your bedroom one evening, dressed from head to toe in clothes she certainly has never seen you in before. clothes you'd surely never wear to work or when lounging at home.

she licks her lips, her mouth suddenly feeling very, very dry. "what-- where are you--?"

"putting myself out there." you shrug, idly stroking a palm along your head, smoothing your hair. "I mean, it always works for you. and, you're right, porn can only do so much. I think it's time for me to, you know, actually try to get with someone."

sevika's jaw clenches. like the fuck you will. "no."

"what do you mean 'no'?" you scoff, swinging your bag over your shoulder. "I can do whatever I want."

"well, I'm not letting you do this," she snaps, standing from her seat on the couch and rushing to block you from the door.

"why not?"

"because I--" she cuts herself off, teeth pressing in together as her mind is shaken with an influx of thoughts. because what can she even say? it's not just about wanting to fuck, not anymore. she's actually interested now. so interested that it's been weeks since she last brought a girl over. no point in doing so if her mind is filled with thoughts of you touching yourself to the noises, anyways.

you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "yes?"

she leans in closer, propping a hand next to where your shoulders rest along the door. there's an inexplicable urge tugging her forwards to you, and she doesn't have it in her to resist it. "because I," she rasps, her voice low and scratchy, "I want you safe."

jesus, is she an idiot?

your face is deadpan, not a twitch of expression in sight. "you do it all the time. besides, how will I learn unless I'm out there, doing it?" after a beat skips between you two, you add, "unless you wanna come with?"

sevika snorts. "you really think I'm gonna watch you fuck about with some other people who don't deserve you?"

you brace your head against the plane of the door, eyes tracing over her face, making sevika's skin tingle in response. "then, who does?" you mutter quietly.

your tone is no longer flat. it's raised in pitch a bit, almost sounding hopeful. sevika swallows hard, her own body beginning to tense in anticipation. she latches onto that audible sign, using it to propel her forward until her lips are ghosting yours.

"me, you idiot."

and with that, she cups your face, drawing you into a soft kiss, your chapstick-smeared lips thick and slippery against hers.

roommate!sevika who makes you come so many times that night that you lose track. first with her head between your thighs, mouthing at your clit, fingers pumping into your hole as she spreads you loose and open. her lips wrap around the stiffened bud, drawing it in in tight, sharp sucks, the pressure of the movements making your legs tremble around her head, pressing into her ears without relent.

"damn, you trying to suffocate me?" she murmurs against your clit, the vibrations of her words making you whimper.

"it's what you deserve," you chuckle once the fog has cleared a bit, the noise dissolving into a whine when her tongue darts out, flapping over your clit with hard presses up and down, up and down.

"you're right," she hums, pressing a soft kiss to the spot just as her fingers curl up and begin stroking your g-spot, making streams of pleasure pulse from your pussy into your tummy, which tightens in anticipation. "I've been a dick to you, huh? I'll make it up to you tonight."

and make it up she does, her strap plunging into you and stretching your hole into a dull ache as her strong fingers hook onto her headboard, raising herself over you as your hips smack together. the mix of lube and your juices send filthy little squelches flowing through the room, and the noise only adds to the whirlwind of pleasure she's throwing you into without pause.

when she kisses you hard, making you whine as her fingers wrap around your throat and her tongue shoves into you, you can't resist quipping through your moans, "gotta say -- those girls had a point."

she chuckles against your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip. "and I was going easy on them. just wait till I'm done with you."

roommate!sevika who wraps her arm around you when smoking her cigarette afterwards. after lying together with nothing but some faded music playing in the background for a few minutes, she presses a tentative, slow kiss to your head, muttering, "I wish I had started talking to you earlier on."

you blink in surprise from the words, the tenderness of the moment sending a flood of emotions through you. you don't want to sound needy, but now that the topic has been brought up, a part of you aches for reassurance, wishing for the hollow part of you her initial avoidance had bore to be filled. "was it because I seemed uninteresting, or...?"

"no, no," she immediately cuts in, her voice hard. "I just wasn't interested in bonding with any roommate. never have been." her nails gently skim along your arm, and her voice lowers before confessing, "I thought you were sweet, though."

that sends satisfaction pumping through you, and you need to purse your lips together to halt a wide smile from breaking over your face. "yeah?"

"yeah, until you started being a little fucking menace," she whispers with a grin, her hand snaking down to squeeze your ass, a motion which nearly sends you moaning.

"hey, you started it with your panty-stealing girl."

"my panty-stealing girl?" she asks incredulously, her chin pointing down to shoot you a wide-eyed look. "you think I'm gonna call anyone mine except you now?"

feeling suddenly bashful from the bold declaration, you nuzzle into her neck, your face heating up. "I don't know."

"huh, you know, you're cute like this. docile, quiet--"

"oh, fuck off."

she laughs, lightly pinching your arm, which sends you squealing. "eh, I knew it only could've lasted so long."

"like you'd have it any other way."

she takes a drag, the corner of her lips curling up. "got a point there."

no sentences and/or parts of my writing are allowed to be reposted or reused without explicit permission or credits given.

[wyvernest]

back massages

pairing: miguel o'hara x college roommate f!reader

warnings: smut, miguel is a bit cocky, unprotected piv, suggestive massages, dry jumping

summary: you give miguel the proverbial back massage, and he returns the favour

"Ugh, my back-" he groans loudly, entering the cramped dorm room and slamming the creaking door shut in frustration.

"Still?" you reply, absent-mindedly, not looking away from your laptop screen and the from project you're working on for tonight's delivery. "Didn't the trellises at the gym help?"

You hear the cot springs coil under his weight as he drops to the bed on his stomach. "Couldn't even use them."

"Hm?" You're still half focused on your research, briefly catching the last words of his replies.

"The gym was full." He groans, shuffling on the mattress.

He is increasingly frustrated with the lack of attention he's receiving from you. You two have been teasing eachother for a while; enough of a while to get him riled up late at night, and to considerably speed up your heart rate whenever he was around.

But even now, you were afraid of being more obvious than necessary. He seemed so confident and easy to talk to, but sometimes you could only wonder if that's just what he was like with everyone else.

He wasn't. He was only this open to you. This relaxed. At least he wasn't aware of how attractive and intimidating his confidence could be to you.

Your delicate fingers kept tapping on the keyboard, unrelenting. Nearly indifferent.

"Didn't you say you'd finish it this morning?" he groans, slightly muffled by the pillow he rested his head against.

"Yeah." You aren't paying attention. Truthfully, beneath the façade, you can barely understand what you're reading, your eyes mechanically darting across the text in front of you. All you can think about is how much you'd want to straddle him and make out right now. Especially with the way he's groaning from the back pain-

"- I overslept." You explain, scarce and somewhat cold. He sighs deeply, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach. Fuck. You don't even know if being roommates is either a blessing or a curse. How are you even supposed to study with-

"Can't you take a break? Por favor." He speaks, his voice down an octave. You can't take it anymore. You peek at him over your shoulder, pondering.

He's shirtless. Of course. He has to be doing it on purpose at this point.

Your attention drifts over the line of his back that bends just slightly for him to hold his beefy arms under his pillow. His muscles ripple as he shifts to get more comfortable into the greyish bedsheets.

"Give me a back rub." He challenges, squinting his eyes and watching your face drop the second his request is processed in your brain.

"Come on." He chuckles lowly. A few ruffled strands of hair on his face make it look like he had just woken up. You can't resist. "Help me feel better."

Raising from the desk chair and moving to sit on the edge of the bed, you place your hands on his shoulder blades, pushing gently, kneading the tensed muscles there. He sighs deeply once again as he feels your small, warm palms on his broad back.

"Ugh." he groans, relaxing under your touch. "Push harder."

You comply, applying more pressure, digging the heels of your hands into his toned muscles.

Your vision washes over his body, comforted by the fact that he can't see you. His back is so much bigger than your whole body. You feel an unfathomably strong need to lay on him, to feel the heat of his skin invade yours. Or better yet, have him lay on you, feel the whole weight of him, cozy and constant.

"Oh-" He moans, raspy and low when you find another tensed up knot, "-feels so good." You're starting to soak your panties from the sounds he's making.

"You're so good at this." He halfly speaks into his pillow, evidently pleased with the special treatment. "Ah, yeah, right there- oh-"

Insisting on the spot, you start putting your upper body weight into the strokes, not having any more force in your arms. He groans again at the sudden change, only this time it comes out very much like a prolonged moan.

Soon enough your own back starts to hurt from the twisted position you're in, legs dangling on one side of the mattress and your torso turned to him. Ceasing your movements, you bring your hands to your lower back, pushing so you could straighten your spine as a faint ache begins to form.

"Get on the bed." He moves his head to gaze up at you over his shoulder. "Straddle my waist. Better for the both of us.", He advices, as if it's nothing.

Your heart rate picks up as uneasiness shoots through your veins as in a lighting strike. You've never been this close to him before. This physical, this intimate. Heart fluttering at the faint hope of reciprocated feelings and the possibility of something more, you silently accept the suggestion.

Climbing on the bed, you hop on his lower back, gradually and slowly laying your bodyweight on him.

"Is this okay?" You're finally settled, and he groans in an infinitely relieved exhale.

"More than okay." One of his hands slips away from under his pillow to tap on your thigh, nearly making you jump. "Continue, it was so good."

Trying to ignore his hand still resting two millimetres away from your leg, you resume the massage, searching for more knots over his broad back.

"That's it, that's it, oh fuck- ugh" His voice sultry and raspier, he flexes his back muscles involuntarily the second you finally reach the spot.

You have to use all that's left of your self control not to accidentally clench your cunt on his lower back. But you can't help it. Wearing a skirt wasn't the best idea today.

The way he's slightly squirming underneath you as you massage his huge shoulders, the way your clothed clit rubs against his skin with the motions have you shivering lightly.

"Yeah- oh, fuck" Your hands are behind his neck, undoing all the aches and rigidity from hours of hunching over his desk, of not taking long coveted breaks.

"I'm done, my arms are starting to hurt." You announce, partially true. You also couldn't stand his noises anymore, all the obscene groans and rough moans, fearing he might start feeling now wet you've actually gotten in the meantime.

In a surge of confidence, you lean forward, more or less intentionally letting your breasts squeeze flush against his back, and you kiss his cheek, soft and tender.

He's surprised and flustered for a flashing second, before letting a smirk tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Let me give you one too, cariño."

You shiver at the pet name, hearing him talk this way to you for the first time.

How could you possibly say no?

You lay on the bed where he had been, feeling the clean sheets warm and infused with his musk.

The mattress dips, springs creaking slightly as he adjusts his weight, finally straddling your upper thighs. Your breathing quickens in shock, not having expected him to take the same position as you did. You feel his weight on you, grounding you.

His broad hands start at your shoulders, questionably innocent at first. But just as you start to think that there isn't more to the way he's sat behind your ass, to the way he's touching you, his palms drift away from the usual motions of the massage he is supposed to give you.

Expert, cursory fingers pretend to knead down, to your waist, gripping hard.

You start feeling your pulse in your neck.

One of his thighs flexes on your side as he slightly adjusts, lifting himself a mere inch above you and settling back down. Only this time, you can feel his erection through his sweats, snugly sat between the globes of your ass.

Leaning forward, his grip on your waist remains strong as he slightly grinds his cock on you from behind, his hands mimicking his rhythm as if things aren't already obvious. It's still a massage, it's just not his main goal.

"Mm- Miguel-" you attempt to protest, only it comes out as a moan laced with anticipating pleasure.

A broad, warm hand slowly and unabashedly moves from your waist up to your shoulder, only for a mere second kneading the tensed muscles before drifting down. His fingers ever so slightly slip underneath you as he palms your right breast, not stopping his hips from rubbing his dick against you.

He's slow and careful, as if still hoping you hadn't noticed or aren't bothered to ask him to get off, even through your mewls and his moaned name.

“You're so..” He speaks quietly, for himself, “soft, and fragile-” He leans forward, much like you did, but instead he kisses your neck, down your spine. “I wanna-”

He leaves the voiced desire unfinished as he picks your torso up to his chest, his arms encompassing you, flipping you around.

Now with your body trapped in his embrace, thighs between his and hands squished together, he kisses your flushed cheeks with fervour.

“Tell me to stop.” A low whisper below your ear. Watching your face for any trace of doubt, you shake your head, ‘no’.

‘Don’t stop.’

Placing you back down on the mattress, he bunches your skirt up to your middle, moving your panties to the side as his other hand takes his rock hard cock out of his sweats.

You feel the precum coated head flush against your pussy lips, pushing in with a gravel groan.

As soon as he gathers the courage to advance, his length grazes your clit, your hips automatically jerking away, akin to having touched hot coal.

A shiver runs down your spine that makes your cunt flutter, his awaiting cock twitching in enthusiasm. He feels you spasm and grow wetter.

“Ugh, that- you feel so good-”

He’s only taking his time before he can bottom out inside you. With a look over your shoulder, you don’t trust your voice to respond. You nod and clench your pussy around him, aiming to viciously drive him mad.

He suddenly pushes forward, hands forcing you onto him, the contact with his own blazing flesh making your brain melt and eyes roll back into your head. You can almost feel his bulbous tip in your guts, messing with your nerves and sinews.

Quickly adapting to the new conditions your body has given him, he corrects his grip on your waist, hoisting you until your feet lose contact with the bed. Back now arched, ass well-adjusted to meet his height, upper body rested on the plush pillows. He drags out halfway before sinking back in.

His hips slowly rotate against yours, his tense abdomen waving into you

You can’t take it anymore. Your limbs feel like radio-static, heart sending its pulse into your pussy, breathing laboured and synced with his. The broad head flicks a spot deep inside you that curves your spine this time, feet no longer able to find balance away from the stimulation.

A strong forearm curls around your middle with snake-like speed. You settle obediently back into his hold.

Your hips wiggle closer into his, apologetically stuffing yourself full of him. He smirks at the gesture, satisfied.

“Fuck, Miguel-”, you moan for him, giving him exactly what he wanted before he started pounding into you.

A combination of his pelvis slamming into yours and his hands violently dragging you back onto his dick has high-pitched whimpers crawling out of your throat. Your head rings with the sound of the bed squeaking back and forth along with the harsh returns of his cock in between your come-soaked folds.

His firm hands hold you from flinching, fingers digging into your waist while his thumbs press down into your lower back.

It's when he changes his angle that you scream out, all consciousness dissolving into raw, carnal bliss. Ruptured cries and fractions of his name bloom out of your nearly-dry throat.

He feels his heavy cock pulsate as your ass jolts with each slap, your pussy choking his dick in the process.

With a suffocating groan, he releases inside you, his ecstasy drawn-out into fractured grunts blended with heavy breaths.

You sense his warm come spilling inside you. Your own climax sends your head spinning, your loud pulse dropping in your ears.

The thunder subsides through your veins like a candle being put out by the cold.

a/n: sorry for the delay i have a ton of stuff to do for college 💀