#there's something about fingers in a mouth...........

[ridingthatd]

❝ FUCKABLE! ❞

gojo and geto are assigned a significant task by their teacher, they have the duty of returning you to tokyo jujutsu high. but what would happen if they both find you fuckable?

warning : heavy smut, degrading, breeding, a lot of cum, phone sex, masturbating, three sum, anal sex, pussy talk, dirty, filthy, very kinky

fucking pervert. gojo spit out these harsh words out of his mouth, as he run his fingers through his wet hair. he's been in the shower for quiet awhile now, rethinking whatever he has done an hour ago, what happened to him? is he this desperate?- is he this desperate to fuck his cock with a thong who belongs to the girl he has to keep safe.

satoru thinks and thinks and thinks staring at his hard cock in the shower should he- no no he already did enough, but maybe if he just let it out maybe he will feel better? maybe if he beats his cock in the shower enough he will get tired of beating it, then he wouldn't have to worry about being hard anymore- well at least thats what he thought.

grunts and groans fills the shower, but it wasn't as loud as the water that was running down his body, satoru groans thighs shaking as he stroke his cock in away he never had- so fast, so hard he wouldn't be surprised if the skin of it tear off from how hard he's gripping it, head on the wall of the shower, water dripping down his face, he can't breath, he can't breath because of how suffocating it is to feel this hot- from the warm shower running and of course from the thoughts he's having right now.

having you here with him, bending you over pushing you into the shower wall, boobs squeezing into it, and head rolling back as you desperately give him a sloppy kiss sucking his tongue into your mouth- he looks at the shower wall it was covered with multiple cum spots- his cum, he had came 4 times fucking 4 times and this is about to be his 5th- he wishs you were the one who's covered with his cum shots instead of the cold wall of the shower, his eyes crossed as he imagine your ass- tits - face - thighs covered with his cum, and this seem to send him to the edge as he cums one more time with a long groan and shaky legs. he slides down the shower to shaky to even stand up.

"satoru~" you teasingly call out his name, looking for non other then your favorite sorcerer, you glance inside the kitchen and there he is- his back facing you as he seems to be putting something in the oven, rolling his eyes because he knows once you call his name this way- it means you're up to something annoying.

you sneakily snuck behind his back and warp your ice cold hands inside his shirt- in intention to freak him out, but your silly little action has started a fire- that will break open you.

gojo freezes, standing still, you start giggling thinking you finally caught him off guard, screaming a-

"gottcha that's what you get-" you weren't

able to continue your sentence because gojo is already on you, he was so fast that you let out a yelp as he painfully grabs your hips between his hand and pick you up pushing you toward the kitchen counter, pushing his forehead against yours- your warm breath is mixing with his from how close he was, nose bumping against each other-your breath hitch not understanding what's happening.

"gotcha" gojo whisper lowly against your lips as he stare at them, you can basically feel them faintly brushing against yours as he mutters those words out, you didn't reply- you couldn't, to busy staring at his lips, as he do the same.

satoru doesn't know what got into him- he surprised himself as much as he surprised you.

"satoru" you whisper against his lips, having no motive of pushing him off, so gojo get enough courage to slowly stroke his hand up your thighs, as he keep staring at your lips, he can feel your breath hitch as he squeeze your thighs, trailing his hand up and up till he reachs the skirt you were wearing- he fucking love your skirts, he adore the collection of your skirts, how it let him catch a glimpse of your peachy ass and your plumpy thighs, and most importantly he always think about how easy the access is, he could just bend you over, sliding your panties to the side and shove his cock in with no hesitation.

his hand hovers on your skirt, gojo lick his dry lips, as he look in your eyes asking for permission to slide his hand inside that little skirt of yours. as if you knew what he wants you slowly place your hands on top of his- pushing it inside your skirt placing it on your upper thighs, his fingers gazing against your panties.

he groans against your lips, pushing against you more- because you just gave him the permission he needed so he won't have to hold back anymore.

you let a whimper when gojo squeeze your thighs hard, "you like that yea?" he darkly questions as he knead them harshly.

you nod eagerly, pushing yourself against him, pressing your boobs into him- and gojo finally snaps, picking you up from the counter, squeezing your ass between his hands, as he finally take your pretty mouth against his- finally.

you moan in his mouth and he growls in yours- fuck it tastes so good so good, your tongue against his swirling around together, he pulls back, a string of spit connecting both of your tongues.

"satoru" you mummer staring at him with high eyes and he pull back into a kiss again, wet kissing noises filled the hallway as he makes his way into the living room with you in his arms.

he doesn't make it halfway because he push you against the wall instead, rocking you against his hard cock. you break the kiss, throwing your head back moaning at how good his cock feels- dry humping you.

gojo trails his nose against the side of your neck, huffing as he whisper harshly. "you needy baby? you needy for my cock?"

he pushs harder- it felt to good for you because you thankfully wore a skirt so he's directly stroking his closed cock against your panties, it felt to good because the feeling of the harsh fabric of his jeans rubbing against your clit takes you on cloud nine.

he grabs your hair and turn you around, pushing your face and whole body against the hallways cold walls, he immediately start grinding his hard on against your ass- but the only difference is that you no longer feel his pants- he's only wearing his boxers.

"look what you do to me y/n, you feel this hard cock hm?" he says as he grab your hair pushing your head back to look at him.

but you were to out of it to answer to busy focusing on the way you're so close to cumming, you only snap out of it when gojo pushes your panties down your legs, and shove his finger in without any warming, causing you to yell out.

"I asked you a fucking question didn't i?"

he says harshly as he scissors his fingers inside of you, groaning in your ear from how tight you felt around him.

"ple- please please" this is the only words that managed to come out of your mouth,as you rock against his fingers, mouth half open.

"aw you poor baby you wanna cum on my fingers hm? you wanna squirt on them?" he coo at you sucking on your neck, as he shove them into you faster.

"yes yes yes" your eyes roll, as you roll your hips into him matching his pace. only to whimper when you feel him removing his fingers and licking them clean moaning at your taste.

you were about to complain but gojo already picked you up, throwing you against his shoulder as he makes his way toward the living room throwing you on the couch, freeing his cock out of his boxer, it sprungs out hitting his abdomen. your mouth water out from how big he is- fuck he was so beautiful, pinkish red, veins, and a trimmed white hair. he strokes his cock looking at your wet pussy, he was about to do what he has been fantasizing about till- a ring sound fills the room.

it was your phone laying on the couch next to you, gojo was quick to grab it before you smirking at who's calling- geto.

your eyes goes wide as he click the answer button and put it on speaker placing it next to you. "hello sweetheart, where tf are you? I have been waiting for the past 30 mins" as your hands made their way towards it, gojo shoves his hard cock inside of you.

you moan out loud, he was so big so big, gojo eye rolls, he's shaking, he doesn't know why but he's shaking so bad, after all it was his first time fucking a pussy this tight and the feeling of your tight wet pussy clenching so hard around him has him overwhelmed, "y/n?" geto on the phone confusedly ask.

but you were to busy staring at satorus shivering body, as he leans in placing his forehead on yours, eyes clenched shut, mouth opened.

you completely forget about geto as you slowly flip him and get on top of him. he holds you by the waist gazing at you with adoration. you slowly sink on his cock, he groans fingers digging inside your hips, to your surprise he whimpers. and it turns you on so much that you fully go down. whimper after whimper leaves him.

"y/n" he chokes out, you lean in giving him a sloppy kiss that he returns, "yes baby I'm here" you say.

"please move or I might lose it" he breaths out harshly, you slowly start rocking your hips, to scared to do anything more then that- but what catch you off surprise is when gojo lift you up and push you down hard against his cock, both of you moaning at the same, he repeats it lifting you and tugging you down, you're basically jumping on his cock right now, eyes crossed from how harsh gojo is handling you- like you're nothing but a fuck toy.

"gonna cum inside of you, gonna fill you with my cum" gojo groans out, as he sit up and hug you into him, just to push up your shirt, taking your nipples into his mouth, biting them, and swirling his tongue around them, as he fucks up into you. bouncing you on his cock, oh how much he loves this view.

"fucking hell-" a moan comes out- but it's not from him or from you, it's from the phone, it was geto, he was still on the line clearly listening to what's happening, but that does nothing other then turn you on even more.

"satoru stretch her ass out for me, make sure her little tight ass is stretched out for me" geto speaks out his dirty words, you thought gojo will be made at his friend for ordering him around but to your surprise his eyes sparkle at the idea.

"mm y/n im gonna stretch your second pretty hole for geto yea? we can't be selfish can't we?" he spit this venom out as a smirk slowly creeps out on his face from your shocked expression. "what are you-" his fingers spread your cheeks apart, trailing circles on your hole.

"awe dont tell me you actually thought I would be jealous of my friend-tch i thought u were smarter then that sweetheart, how can I be jealous of my own fuck buddy" you couldn't even react to his words, because geto already shoved a finger up your tight ass- it was a new feeling for you, to overwhelming that it had you squirting on his dick creating an embarrassing wet sound.

"fuck- did she squirt" geto groan out from the phone. your body was drained out from the shockness of both- gojos confession and the new feeling.

but that didn't stop gojo as he pick you up and push you down his cock, bouncing your body on it.

he feels you clenching around his cock tighter "is geto hearing me fucking you turn you on? huh sweetheart" you moan loudly at his dirty words.

"does it turn you on to know that you're fucking his friend?" he says setting you and himself on the edge. " fuck fuck fuck im cumming fuck ima turn your insides white, fill you in, keep you warm and nice".

and that makes you cum again, clenching so tightly around him as you feel his hot cum spilling inside of you, he keep rocking his hips as he bring his mouth to yours, sucking on your tongue.

"never came this hard from masturbating before" geto moans out, indicating that he also came. satoru stare at your sleeping figure as he slowly brush your hair out of the way, he was lying about not being jealous of geto- because of course he is, but was he lying about the fuck buddies part- no he didn't.

[mattybsgroupie]

wet ♡ chris sturniolo

— CONTENTS: established relationship; making out; handjob (m receiving); thigh riding (f); PISS kink; mommy kink dom!reader; sub!chris

— NOTES: okay, this is the last time im bringing a taboo kink lmfao if my account gets suspended after posting this it’s not my fault you guys wanted it!!! if you don’t feel comfortable, please DO NOT READ. none of this is real, it’s just a fanfiction. inspired by this ask + the wedding pics 🙈 not proofread so i apologize for any mistakes, enjoy and please let me know if it was up to your expectations!

chris’s hands ran through your body, palming every inch of your flesh. his long fingers gripped on your hair, gently pulling your scalp as he grinned before biting your lower lip. he looked good and he knew it. you were his “plus one” on a family wedding and you couldn’t be happier — but chris wouldn’t stop acting up.

throughout that day, he kept on teasing you. smacking your ass as he crossed the dance floor, making you sit on his lap — in front of his parents — so you could feel his boner, taking you to the bathroom and sucking your tits. the ride home was quiet, chris’s pants becoming tighter and your panties, wetter.

you didn’t waste time. as soon as you arrived home, chris pulled you closer, pressed you against the wall and made your way to the bedroom between kisses and moans.

chris had his back resting on the headboard as you crawled to his lap, fully sitting over his boner. he groaned, throwing his head back and immediately placing his palms on your hips, trying to pull your satin dress up. 

you clicked your tongue once you realized what chris was trying to do. “nuh uh” you said, grabbing his wrists and placing them in front of you. his blue orbs flickered between your dress and his pants, silently pleading you for some attention. “you had all the chances to behave at the wedding, and yet you chose to act up” you spitted out, touching the fabric of his tie with your index. chris gulped as you interlocked the cloth between your fingers, pulling him closer. a choked moan came from the back of his throat, his chest suddenly inflating as the need for air took over his mind. 

you loosened your grip, noticing his parted, dry lips and the pink tint on his cheeks. “i think you need to learn how to behave” you continued, removing his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. his fists were still resting on your thighs, but chris pulled away when you brought the tie to his hands. “i love you, and i want you to do this, but i need to pee first” chris said.

you chuckled at his innocence, gently caressing his flushed cheek with your thumb. not only chris would not be allowed to cum, his bathroom privileges were also revoked. “you’re not going anywhere, sweetheart” you cooed, the warm tone sending a shiver down his spine. “b-but! i need to go!” he protested, eyes suddenly widening as you tied the knot around his wrists, lifting his arms so they’d be resting above his head.

“it’s your own fault for drinking that much at the wedding” you said, adjusting yourself on his lap. you went back to the task of removing his shirt, slowly opening the white buttons across his torso. chris whined when you reached the last one, hoping that you’d let him to use the bathroom soon.

“please ma, i really have to go” he pleaded. you laid your palm against his bare chest, tracing circular motions towards his lower belly. you leaned in for a kiss, and the moment his voracious, desperate lips touched yours, you pressed his bladder. chris jerked his body forward, startled by your sudden action. “fuck! don’t f-fucking do that” he complained, furrowing his eyebrows. “i’m gonna fucking piss myself or something”.

“hey, look at me” you called chris, grabbing his jaw and forcing his chin upwards. “don’t worry about it, yeah?” you cooed once again, brushing your thumb over his lower lip. chris allowed you to get inside his mouth, latching his lips around your knuckle and sucking it. 

the sight in front of you looked straight out of a porno. chris had his arms up, his fingers motioning for no apparent reason. tiny droplets of sweat glued his brown locks to his forehead, and a small amount of drool started to form on the corners of his mouth. his opened shirt exposed his chest, red scratches from your nails contrasting with his pale skin. chris squirmed around, trying to ignore the growing pressure on his tummy. 

he couldn’t enjoy what you were about to do. you removed your dress, standing naked in front of him before sitting on one of his thighs. your pussy was drenched in wetness, the heatness coming from both bodies making your cunt throb against his clothed leg. the fabric was thick and somewhat itchy, giving you the perfect amount of roughness to hump chris.

chris threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering “i wanna touch you so bad”. you ignored his pleads, focusing on your own pleasure until you decided you needed some more balance to go faster. your palm rested on chris’s tummy and gave it one last push, thrusting your hips forward. the cloth rubbed against your folds and a specific sewing of his pocket touched your clit, bringing you closer to the edge.

“mommy! please d-don’t push again” chris whined, taking you out of your trance. “please, i can’t hold it anymore! it hurts!” he complained, not being able to keep watching you getting off while his pathetic dick remained untouched.

“be a good boy and let mommy cum, yeah?” you said. “then you can make a mess, i promise” you sealed your lips together, now using his shoulders for support. his whimpers became louder as your orgasm approached, the repetitive “mommy” coming from his mouth throwing you over the edge. your body trembled as you released, the juices from your throbbing cunt leaking down his pants.

but that was not the only wet thing there. as you came back from your high, you felt something warmer quickly spreading under you. you opened your eyes to see the huge stain forming on chris’s pants, wetness taking over his legs. chris was pissing himself. 

he wouldn’t dare look at you. he was so embarrassed. he felt so helpless, so desperate, so humiliated. “‘m sorry— ‘m sorry i c-couldn’t hold it!”

you smiled at him, cupping his cheeks together, a small pout forming on his lips. “you did such a good job holding for so long” you praised, running your fingers through his hair as you continued to whisper, “you’ve made a mess and that’s what i wanted, hm? i’m not mad” you assured him. “you took your punishment like a good boy and i’m so proud of you”

chris let out a sigh of relief, thanking you as you untied the knot around his wrists, finally giving his arms some rest. “now let’s finish the mess you started” you said as you unbuckled his belt, revealing his completely soaked underwear. you chuckled at the sight in front of you, helping chris to remove his final piece of clothing before wrapping your fingers around his cock, spreading the pre-cum that leaked from his slit. 

“fuck fuck fuck” chris repeated, bucking his hips forward and thrusting inside your fist. his cock twitched inside your palm, his thick, swollen veins telling you he was about to burst. “i held for so long please please please i need to cum”

“already?” you playfully responded, fastening your pace. “cum! gon’ cum!” he cried out loud, not waiting for your permission. his entire body trembled beneath you, thick ropes of cum spurting from his tip. the white, sticky liquid spilled on your hand and his own tummy, spams taking over his worn out figure.

you laid on top of chris, snuggling further in his embrace as both of you recovered from such an intense session. after a while, chris spoke up. “listen, i don’t wanna sleep in my own piss so… i think we should take a shower” you giggled, playfully hitting his chest. “i’m serious. and we need to buy a waterproof mattress. next time i’m doing this to you”

— once again not using the actual taglist cause it’s not everyone’s cup of tea ♡⊹𑄽୧

chris masterlist | complete masterlist

[nerdlvr]

"jisung- i want you." your voice was barely audible as you looked up at him, small hands gripping at the hem of his shirt.

he stared down at you in disbelief, arms awkwardly glued to his sides as he gulped, "w-wait actually- like you wanna sleep with me?"

you nodded shyly, cheeks a slight shade of pink as you turned your gaze away from him.

you were startled by his quickness, his hands moving down to grip your waist as he walked you towards the couch.

"yes, yes, yes- you have no idea- oh my- let me kiss you?" he settled you onto the couch, your body pressed gently against the cushions as he rested his weight on his knee, his body towering over yours.

"please- i haven't kissed someone in so long."

jisung felt his dick twitch against his pants, a small tingle running down his spine as you reached up towards his shoulders, your soft eyes meeting his.

"easy baby- i'll go slow."

he leaned down, lips a breath away from your, his hands tightly gripping the cushions around you, "if i lose it please- please just kick me or something i don't know if-" you pressed your lips against his, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him towards you.

the kiss was stiff, your lips awkwardly touching his. had it been that long since you kissed a guy? you dont remember it being this bad?

he parted from you, his soft chuckle filling the space between you two, "so impatient- follow my lead okay?"

you bit your lip embarrassment blooming in your chest, were you getting schooled by a 20 year old?

he brought his thumb down to tug at your bottom lip, your mouth parting slightly at the action.

you watched him mimic your face, his lips slightly parted as he looked towards your mouth, "these don't move so much-" he leaned down to plant a quick kiss on your bottom lip.

he smiled at the small whine you let out, your head tilting up to chase his lips.

"it's more about your tongue-" your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb slipped past your lips, the pad of his finger lightly rubbing against your wet muscle.

"use your tongue for me baby- let me see." his free hand let go of the cushion, instead moving down to rub light circles on your temple, "look at me- i need to see how you're feeling."

when you looked up he was staring straight at you, a small smile on his lips as he waited for your next move, "go on-"

you brought your hand up to wrap around his wrist, a small sigh leaving your lips as you began to swirl your tongue around his thumb.

"justt like that- good girl, you learn quick." he moved his thumb in time with your tongue, a slight smirk on his lips as he watched you play with his thumb.

"okay now with me-" he pulled his thumb out of your mouth, his head leaning down to bring your lips together, "stick your tongue out."

you complied with no hesitation, your tongue sticking out obediently for his use.

you let out a breath as he stuck his own tongue out, pressing it against yours before swirling it around your muscle. he brought his lips down to meet his tongue, sucking lightly on you before pushing your tongue back into your mouth.

you felt your body heat up as he licked into your mouth, your breaths hot as the feeling of him filled your senses.

the smell of his fresh detergent was in your nose, the feeling of his hands cupping your face, the sight of him fluttering his eyes shut as leaned further into you, the taste of his sweet spit mixing with yours, and the sound of your wet mouths mashing against each other.

in this moment you were consumed by everything jisung had, his body molding into yours as he pressed you deeper into the couch, his chest hot against yours.

your eyes fluttered shut as you listened to his soft groans, his desperation clear him the way his lips moved against yours in a frenzy, the spit from your mouths slipping past your lips.

and then you felt it- that cold pit in the depth of your stomach. a sudden chill running up your spine as you began to lose your breath.

keep going- don't embarass yourself- he's going to hate you- you can't stop now- you asked for this- remember when yuta-

"st-stop, stop-" you turned your head away from him, hands moving up to push at his chest, creating space between you two, "jisung i-"

you felt your chest tighten with worry, your eyes searching his face as you gripped onto his shirt, "jisung i'm sorry i-"

his eyes were soft as he looked towards you, his cheeks slightly flushed as he scanned your face, "are- are you okay?"

his hands remained on your face, thumbs slightly rubbing at your cheeks, "talk to me- what happened?"

you felt your breath stutter, a slight burn building in your throat as you looked into his worried eyes, "i'm sorry i-" your voice was strained, eyes beginning to water, "i'm scared."

it was barely a whisper, only a secret shared between the two of you. your cheeks felt hot under his gaze, lips slightly trembling as you held your breath.

"i'm here- hey- i'm here-" his hands slid behind your back, slightly tugging you towards him.

your grip was still tight against his shirt as he pulled you against his chest, lifting you slightly to lay on him as he fell back against the couch.

"what happened?" he brought his hands up to stroke your hair, his lips soft against your forehead.

"what if i can never lose my virginity?" you sniffled against his chest.

"hm, then you'll always stay a virgin i guess-" he let out a soft chuckle, confused by your question.

you shook your head, hand coming up to lightly slap his chest, "no- i mean like- doesn't that upset you?" you lifted your head to look at him, eyes puffy.

he brought his fingers down to rub at your eyes lightly, a warm smile on his lips, "not really? i guess i might feel kinda bad- cause you've given me all these girlfriend tips and i just- well i mean i guess i taught you to kiss- but i haven't really done anything for you-"

"jisung-"

"oh wow- wait this is kind of unfair- i haven't paid you and you've been talking to me and teaching me to deal with my crybaby girlfriend- please let me teach how to give a blowjob at least, or maybe like-"

"jisung wait-" you brought your finger up to his lips, effectively silencing his rant, "you've done more than enough for me- okay?"

he nodded slowly, his eyebrow raising in confusing, "o-okay? but-"

"i don't need to learn all that stuff anymore- yuta is just- i- i think i need to stop obsessing over the fact that i'm a virgin."

he laid back, his hands tight against your waist as he let out a sigh, "so you're saying you don't need me anymore- right?"

you hummed, hands never leaving the fabric of his shirt, "i mean- yeah-"

he shifted under you, fingers softly thrumming on your waist, "good. now when i fuck you i know it's gonna be cause you want me- not cause of some other idiot."

you raised you head to look at him again, a dumb smile on your face, "you're the biggest douche i've ever met- ah ah ah- no- no yuta jokes!"

you both laughed as you fell back against his chest, warmth spreading along your bodies, "one yuta joke and i'll shut up forever okay?"

you shook your head, "you're such an idiot."

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅rent-a-girlfriend.com ~ 17. stood up and applauded

previous ~ masterlist ~ next

notes : haha silly writer loves to make relationships messy and nonsensical so that she can create later misunderstanding and conflict haha

taglist : @bunniin , @neverbeurs , @fakeuwus , @natokkiz , @222brainrot , @mystverse , @sk8mrk , @ksywoo , @snowyseungs , @nislost , @nosungluv , @jae-n0 , @peterm4rker , @livingdoll-hara , @doejaejung , @tommina , @413ktz , @aerivrs , @cyjzzl , @dolleyedgirl , @nneteyamss , @mrkleelvr , @4chensungs , @nctrawberries , @multifandomania , @catpjimin , @dudekiss3r , @yuujiswrld , @slayhaechan , @catdonut657 , @kodasity , @ohwowzersthatscool , @byeonwooseokabs , @hyucksunset , @rksbae , @hyucktion , @lionzyon , @baobeii55 , @jakesbubu , @axo-l0tl , @sunghoonsgfreal , @strawberrysavi , @hyunjungjae , @kookssecret , @babrieeee , @defzcl , @sikuthealien

[syoddeye]

simon doesn't pursue people, he operates more like a one-man strike team. his approach to human connection is transactional, pragmatic, a matter of logistics.

on the rare occasion he's looking for company, he wants someone easy, who won't fuss when he introduces them to a thin motel mattress. won't ask what he does for work or try to make plans for the morning. won't bother him about 'next time'. nothing long-term. no strings.

he doesn't have a 'type' so much as a protocol: pick someone malleable, pliant, and preferably on the pill.

then you start working at his local.

the first time he sees you, he doesn't notice much beyond the basics: efficiency, attentiveness, pouring pints and bantering with the regulars with aplomb. by the second or third time, he's paying closer attention. you're not just good at your job—you're quick, always three steps ahead of the chaos. you give out smiles left and right, but it's more muscle memory than genuine warmth. and you're clever, too. funny, even, when someone manages to earn your attention for longer than a transaction.

you could probably keep up with his humor. go toe-to-toe.

you're off-limits, though. that's the rule. bartenders are switzerland—neutral territory. don't shit where you eat. it's a system that works, so long as he doesn't let himself think too much about the view when you lean over the counter or the lilt of your voice when you ask what he's having tonight.

then one evening, you take another man's number. some leering idiot, too comfortable with inserting himself into your space, grinning like he's cracked your code because you haven't humbled him. simon doesn't react, not outwardly. he nurses his drink and watches as you smile, slip the napkin into your pocket, and turn back to the bar.

but that's when you become a problem.

he tells himself it doesn't matter, that it's nothing. he doesn't want a number or a date. but the thought of someone else having you—someone who doesn't know what to do with a woman like you—it's a splinter buried just deep enough to keep him thinking about it. irritating, prone to fester.

how to approach you, though? he can't be as direct as he'd like, can't pin you down with a look or crass words. no way to corner you when you're safe behind the counter, or disappearing through a staff door. hanging around until you're off would be pathetic. dog behavior, he thinks, with a twinge of contempt for the mental image. he's got too much self-respect for that, at least.

no, he's got to actually make an effort. use his words.

the next time he comes in, he waits. no more corner tables or watching from afar. he sits close, pretends not to notice how your hands look slicing a lime. he orders his usual and tries not to overthink your tone when you set it down in front of him.

"you alright?"

you reach for his card, fingers pinching the plastic, but he holds on, smirking when you tug and then huff.

this is the moment. his moment. the one he's been building toward in his head for days. but there's a hitch, a blip in his usual confidence, and he fumbles. he blames your perfume.

"so…you come here often?"

not what he meant to say, but not the worst.

the shockwave of his nuclear-level failure doesn't register until your lips twitch, and it finally sinks in. his eyes widen a fraction as the realization lands. oh, he's fucked it. all his rehearsing, for nothing.

"…yeah," you say, voice flat, a single brow raised as you gesture vaguely toward the bar around you. "i work here?"

his mouth dries, but his face doesn't change. he doesn't fight it when you pull the card out of his grasp. there's the barest glint of something in your eyes—amusement, maybe, or pity. he's not sure which is worse.

you turn away to ring him up, but when you glance back, he's gone.

[kkai-zen]

˖⋆࿐໋ i like it like that!

summary: the jjk men as different pôrn plots! + drabbles for each!

featuring: [separate] fem!reader x satoru gojo, suguru geto, nanami kento, toji fushiguro, & yuta okkotsu

contents: 18+ nsfw! MDNI. [gojo] mutual masturbation, perv reader, mild degradation, fingering, p in v. [geto] power play, implied consent, fem!reader receives oral, mild degradation. [nanami] m!receives oral, mild degradation, finishing inside reader's mouth. [toji] fingering, hickeys, squirting, implied p in v. [yuta] nerdy implied-virgin yuta, exhibitionism, p in v, playing with him under the table (w your foot), overstim, creampie

wc: 3.5k

a/n: just some thirsts over the jjk men! (the titles are a little cheesy, i tried to make them like avg clickbait pôrn titles lmao). enjoy!

GOJO SATORU . . . spying on my brother’s best friend while he masturbates!

You yawn, rubbing your bleary eyes as you sit up in bed. You and your brother, Geto, decided to crash at his best-friend Gojo’s place for the night. Stumbling out of the bedroom, you squint into the darkness. “Where the hell is the kitchen? I just need water,” you mutter. But before you can continue forward, you see a sliver of light glowing in the darkness from Gojo’s room, followed by- moaning? 

You quietly pad to his door, cracked open the tiniest bit, and peek inside to find-

“Haah- ugh, fuck-”

Gojo curses, fisting his cock desperately. He’s completely naked, sprawled out on his bed, sweat dripping down his lean muscles as he gasps for breath. A hand slaps over your mouth as your eyes go wide at the sight.

Something throbs in your lower abdomen, and you clench your thighs together as his moans continue. “Hngh- ah, shit.” When his hand starts moving faster, his glistening abs tightening, you bite your lip and slip a hand into your tiny shorts, pressing your fingers into your already-dripping hole. Throwing his head back, he bucks his hips into his hand and it takes you every fiber of self control not to moan, thumbing at your aching clit. “Ohh, fuck…hnngh, ugh-”

He looks ethereal like this, snowy white hair falling in elegant strands over his handsome face.  Eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and guttural groans slipping from his throat, you’ve never seen a sight so arousing, especially when you look at his cock; pale and pretty and pinkish at the tip, weeping precum, you drool at the sight of it, imagining how good it’d feel stretching you out, imagining how easily it would kiss against all of your most sensitive spots with that length and girth. 

You’re on the verge of an orgasm when he slows his hand to a stop, catching his breath and closing his eyes. Sweat drips off the tips of his fluffy white hair, and he exhales sharply as his thick cock twitches violently in his hand. Shivering, you’re about to slip away to finish yourself in the safety of your room before suddenly you hear, “Did you enjoy the show, gorgeous?” 

In an instant, Gojo’s standing in front of you, door swung wide open, his smooth, damp skin inches away from you. “Wha-?! I- um-” you stutter, avoiding his electric gaze with a blush. “I- I wasn’t- ”

“Don’t lie, sweetheart,” he breathes, tucking an arm around your waist, and you gasp when he drags you into his room, closing the door with a click! Tossing you onto the bed, he rips off your flimsy shorts and baggy shirt in one smooth motion, leaving you bare and quivering underneath his broad figure. 

His bright blue eyes never leave your face for a moment as he lowers his mouth onto one of your stiff nipples, licking and sucking and kissing with abandon. You gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure, whimpering out his name when he slips two long, elegant fingers into your sopping cunt. 

“Dirty, dirty girl,” he purrs into your ear. “Gettin’ off to your big brother’s best friend? You’re so-” He scissors his fingers. “-fuckin’ filthy.” Gojo smirks down at you, handsome face painted with lust. “You’re already dripping and ready f’me. What a slut.” You try to muffle your sobs as Gojo presses his twitching tip against your clit, smearing his pearly pre-cum over your entrance before slamming his entire length into you. 

“Oh, fuck, baby, you feel so good around me,” Gojo moans, dick throbbing eagerly in your wet heat as you cry out his name. He grinds slowly against you, stretching you out even more, letting his girth pulse inside your velvet walls. You can feel every ridge and vein of his hot length inside you, and it sends your brain into overdrive. “K-keep going, Gojo, jus��� move already!” You whine, weakly beating your feverish hands against his chest, and he chuckles, shoving two fingers down your throat. 

“Careful what you wish for, darling.”

SUGURU GETO . . . casting couch audition with the hot interviewer!

“So, you’re here to audition for our talent agency?”

You blink at the startlingly handsome man interviewing you, faint blush spreading over your face before responding, “Yes! That’s right.” 

“Alright, sounds great. My name is Suguru Geto, and I’ll be interviewing you today.” He shifts in the chair across from you, crossing his legs. “So, why do you want this job?”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to be an actress or singer since I was a kid, and it’s been my dream ever since!” 

“Mm, I see. What makes you qualified for a position at this agency?” 

“After doing my research, I think the talents I have are an excellent fit for this agency in particular!”

Geto stares at you for a moment, and you fidget on the couch. His gaze is piercing, and the way he looks at you feels strange, like he’s undressing you with his eyes. “Mhm. I agree, actually,” he murmurs, standing from his chair. “Oh, really? That’s great!” You exclaim.

He says nothing more, taking long, relaxed strides until he’s standing right in front of you, towering over your figure. “As a part of the agency’s protocol, I’m going to need you to undress. We need to assess how well you’ll do based off your…physical features.” His fingertips glide over your blouse, and you shiver.

“A-ah, right,” you stammer. Shifting nervously under his broad silhouette, you slowly pull off your blouse and your skirt. Head bowed, you stare down at your trembling hands, wondering why you’re feeling something damp between your legs. 

“Hmm.” Tilting his head, Geto’s obsidian eyes rake over you. “You’re gonna have to take these off too, doll,” he breathes, fingering the strap of your lacy bra with one hand and the band of your matching panties with the other. “U-um, okay, sir.” You nearly whimper out, and Geto bites down on his lip.

Unclipping your bra and letting it fall, your nipples harden as the cool air meets your skin. Swallowing nervously, your hands then shift down to your panties, tugging the delicate lace off. You try to hide the obvious wet patch staining the fabric, but Geto smirks when he sees them. 

His cool hands brush over your thighs, nudging your legs open. “Ah! W-wait, sir, please-” you gasp, clenching your legs shut with embarrassment. “I’m-”

“You’re what?” He breathes, hot breath raising goosebumps on your skin. “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” His voice is low and husky. “Like a little slut.” 

You flush crimson, thighs trembling. “I- It’s not like that- ” He grabs your knees and forces them apart. “What’s got you dripping all over the couch, then?” Geto chuckles, tracing circles dangerously close to your sopping hole. “Hngh, wait, sir-!” 

But when he starts pressing kisses on your inner thighs, the words vanish from your lips. “What? You gonna say that we can’t do this?” He’s smirking like a devil, placing kitten licks closer and closer to your twitching heat. “B-because we can’t,” you whimper. “Then why’re you a dripping wet mess?” Geto laughs. “Slutty girl. You wanted me to fuck you stupid the second you walked in here, hm?” His tongue finally licks a burning stripe at your hole, and you whine. “S-sir, s-stop- angh-!” 

“Haah- you tell me to stop, but you’re still whining like a whore,” he groans into your cunt. “Callin’ me sir with that slutty voice—‘S-sir, we can’t!’”  he mocks, nose nuzzling into your clit. Geto laps at your hole so patiently, unraveling you so skillfully as he kisses and sucks at your clit, relishing in your whimpers and hiccups.

Before long, you’re creaming on his tongue, trembling and gasping his name as he pulls his pants off.

“Now, shall we get started?” 

NANAMI KENTO . . . sexy secretary relieves her boss during office hours!

“I wonder what’s got Mr. Nanami so worked up,” one of your coworkers muses, watching your boss vanish into his office, door slamming.

“I think it’s the new project coming up,” you reply, sifting through the tall stack of papers left on your desk. “They dumped it on us with no warning, and we’ve got a tight schedule already.” Sighing, you rub your temples.

“Wonder if there’s any way for him to destress. I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Miss Private Secretary,” she nudges you with a twinkle in her eye. Glancing at the closed door of Mr. Nanami’s office, you can’t help but wonder if you can find a way to help him relax…

The next morning, you show up to work wearing a tight dress shirt, pressing just right against your chest, and an equally tight pencil skirt, one that hugs your hips perfectly. You wonder if it’s too much by the time you’re at the office, pulling countless stares, but it’s too late for second thoughts. 

You feel a spark of satisfaction when you walk into Nanami’s office and notice his eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Good morning, Mr. Nanami,” you say evenly, placing a cup of coffee and stack of papers on his desk. “These are the reports that have been submitted…”

And although he should be paying attention to your summary of the bi-monthly reports, all he can think about is how delicious your tits look squeezed against your shirt, and how alluring your ass looks, perked up in that tight skirt. 

“Mr. Nanami? Did you get all that?”

You blink so innocently at him that he feels his cock twitch in his pants. 

“R-Right, yes,” he coughs, covering the faint blush on his face. “So, about the new project? Any news?”

You frown, shaking your head. “Unfortunately not. The deadline is still set for two months from now.” Noticing the sigh he lets out, you pause. “U-um, sir?” You say hesitantly. He glances up at you. “Yes?”

“Is there…anything I can do? For you?” you manage out. He raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean- you’ve been so worked up lately, and with the new project, things have been even more stressful…” you fidget with the collar of your dress shirt. “I just want to make sure you’re doing alright, sir.” 

Nanami’s cock twitches again, and he curses when he feels blood rush down to his loins. “How would you suggest I…destress?” he breathes, looking up at you with hooded eyes. You open your mouth, blushing, but no words come out. “Why don’t you just show me, doll?” 

“Mm- mmpf!” your moans are muffled around his cock, jaw aching as he pumps his length in and out of your throat. “Oh, fuck,” Nanami hisses. “You feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.” Head tipping back, he brings a broad, veiny hand to your head, guiding you up and down his dick. 

“Fuckin’ slutty secretary,” he growls as you choke on his fat tip, balls pressed against your chin as drool leaks from your mouth onto his girth. “Probably wanted this the second I hired you,” Thrusting his cock hard into you, you whine around him, tears leaking from your eyes. He brushes a tear off your face with a deceivingly delicate touch before shoving his length down your throat with a rough thrust once more. “Shit, I could’ve been using you like this for years,” Nanami swears, his balls tightening, preparing for his release.

“Coulda been using this-” Thrust. “-slutty-” Thrust. “-throat-” Thrust. “-for years!” You gag as Nanami cums into your mouth, hot white ropes spurting into your throat. Blinking away tears as his salty seed coats your tongue, he pulls out of your mouth, a lewd string of drool and cum connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. 

He’s panting and red-faced looking down at you—all watery doe eyes and puffy lips covered in his cum. You think that he’s gotten his stress out, but when he grabs your waist and bends you over his desk ripping your skirt off, you squeak. 

“We’re not done yet, angel.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO . . . cute babysitter gets paid with sexy dilf dick!

“He’s out cold.”

You giggle, gently poking Megumi’s chubby cheek. He’s fast asleep, tucked into your lap, as the superhero movie he insistedon watching plays in the background. “Tch. Little brat,” Toji huffs, though you don’t miss the affection in his voice. “I’ll put him to bed.” Gently scooping him up, you tuck Megumi into his bed, stroking his hair softly before hopping back to the living room where Toji is still sitting. 

You’d been taking care of Megumi for months now, growing fond of the grumpy, black-haired menace of a kid. But you also found an unexpected bonus in Megumi’s dad, Toji, who is by far the hottest man you’d ever laid your eyes on. He’s all muscle and broad shoulders and seductive green eyes and oh, that deep, husky voice- 

You clench your thighs together, feeling wetness spread on your panties. You can only imagine what he’s like under those grey sweats, and you shiver at the thought. But you don’t let yourself linger on the thought. What you need to do is go home quickly and take care of the issue that’s dripping between your legs—

“Why don’tcha stay the night, doll?” 

Turning your head, your heart thumps against your chest. “Oh, no, I couldn’t bother you like that, Mr. Fushiguro,” You stammer, shaking your head. He narrows his green eyes at you. “I’m not askin’, doll face. It’s too dark out already, just stay the night. The brat will be happy to see ya in the morning, anyways.” 

Swallowing, you resign. “Sure thing, then,” you reply reluctantly, rubbing your thighs together as subtly as you can manage. Toji notices, and with a grin creeping at his scarred lips, asks, “Is there something you need to do at home?” 

Startled, you panic. “N-no! Not all all, Mr. Fushiguro!” you reassure, waving your hands frantically. Giving you an amused look, he stands, stretching his back with a yawn. You can’t help but admire the muscles rippling under the tight black tee he’s wearing— no! No, you can’t be thirsting over Megumi’s dad right now! You shake your head, mind spinning with lust. 

You’re so lost in your thoughts that you don’t even notice him now towering over you, muscled arms crossed over his chest. “It’s Toji for you, doll,” he breathes, leaning down to hover in front of your face. “None of that ‘Mr. Fushiguro’ shit. Call me Toji.” 

The tension between you two has your thighs pressed together again, and before you know it-

“Mmpf! Ahn, T-Toji!” you sob, tears pricking at your eyes. He has you pressed against the wall of his room, your legs wrapped around his narrow waist as he pistons his thick fingers in and out of your sopping cunt. 

“Quiet down, doll face,” Toji whispers, grinning. “Wouldn’t wanna wake up the kid, right?” 

You whine in response as his thumb rubs quick circles over your clit, bouncing you up and down on his fingers. “B-But Toji- when you- ugh!” Slapping a hand over your mouth, you try to muffle your moans as he sucks hickeys onto your neck. He nips at your bare collarbone, working his way down to your perked nipples with reckless abandon. “Cute lil’ thing,” he grunts into your breasts, fondling one with the hand not stuffed up your pussy. “Soon as I saw ya, knew I needed to have ya. Knew this-” He places a harsh slap on your ass. “-fuckin’ slutty lil’ body would listen to me so well.”

“Toooji- ” you moan, eyes rolling back into your head as he thrusts his fingers into you even harder. “C’mon, doll, you’ve already cum once on my fingers. Gimme another,” he presses, smirking as your slick drips down his wrist. You wail out his name, tongue lolling out, drool dripping down your face and chest as you squirt all over his stomach, legs trembling. 

Toji chuckles, licking his slick-covered fingers, admiring your panting, blissed out face. “Ya haven’t even had my cock yet. Can’t believe you’re cumming this hard on just my fingers, pretty.” He picks up your limp body, placing you on the bed, ass in the air.

“But you’re a good girl, right?” He settles his body flush against yours, and you feel his massive cock rub against your ass. “You can take all of me, right?” And you nod wantonly in response, grinding back against him with a whine. He licks his lips with a crooked smirk. 

“Good fuckin’ girl.” 

YUTA OKKOTSU . . . slutty classmate convinces nerdy tutor to fuck in the library!

“Focus on the problems, Miss.”

Your math tutor, Yuta, taps on the worksheet in front of you. “This is an important concept, and will most definitely be on the exam.” With a sigh, you drag your eyes away from the library scenery, picking up your pencil. “Yeah yeah, I got it,” you say dismissively, scribbling down some messy answers before returning to your eyes elsewhere. 

Picking up the worksheet, Yuta frowns. “Miss, these answers are completely wrong,” he says, distraught, crossing over your scribbles with a red pen. “You need to use this equation here, and you can’t apply this rule because of the domain…” he blabs on and on, and you find yourself only paying attention to how cute he looks when he’s frustrated.

To be completely honest, you’ve wanted to fuck Yuta the moment you saw him. Shy, nerdy, and utterly adorable, he’s definitely your type. A wicked idea sprouts in your mind as Yuta keeps talking, and you quietly slip a shoe off. 

“Miss? Were you paying attention?” Yuta looks at you with large eyes. “Mhm, ‘course I was,” you hum. “But whaddaya say we take a break from all this?” You smirk at him, extending your leg underneath the table, gliding your foot up his leg until it hovers over his crotch. 

You relish in the way he flushes red, shifting uncomfortably. “M-Miss, what are you doing?” He stammers, and you rub your foot over the hardening bulge in his slacks with a grin. “What do you mean, Yuta?” You say innocently, leaning towards him. He blushes harder as you press down on his erection. “This- isn’t appropriate! We’re in the library, we- you shouldn’t-” he bites down on his lip. “Shouldn’t what, Yuta?” 

You toy with him some more, rubbing circles over his hard-on. “Does it not feel good?” You murmur, noting the muffled whine that slips out of his mouth. “M-Miss, please,” he chokes out. “Not- ugh!” He whimpers, and you feel something damp spread over his crotch. 

You pause, shocked for a moment, before a wide grin spreads across your entire face as you pull your foot back. “Looks like you liked that a lot, Yuta,” you muse, standing up. “Wha- where are you going?” He stutters. You walk to his side of the table, pulling him to his feet. “It’s so late, Yuta, and the library is practically empty. Follow me,” you wink at him. 

Stumbling after you, he covers his cum-stained pants with embarrassment as you lead him through the bookshelves to a secluded corner of the library. “What are we doing here?” Yuta pants, face still flushed from your earlier ministrations. “What do you think?” You press him into the closest bookshelf, capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. 

He freezes, barely reacting to the kiss, and you pull away after a moment. “D’you not want this, Yuta?” You ask softly, staring into his eyes. He stares back, quiet for a moment, before he grabs the back of your head with a surprising amount of fierceness, pushing your lips back into his with a bruising force. 

Yuta drags his lips away with a gasp, but before you can catch your breath, he’s ripping both your pants off, rubbing his shockingly large cock against your dripping pussy. “Yuta, w-wait-!” You squeal as he thrusts himself into you, rocking his hips against yours desperately. He kisses you, even harsher than before, moaning an apology into your lips. “M’sorry, just- just need you, need you so bad- hngh!” He’s whining, rutting against you like an animal in heat. 

“A-ahh, Yuta,” you whimper, weeping cunt throbbing at the lewd plap-plap-plap your pussy makes when his balls slap against your ass. Before you know it, you’re creaming on his cock, arousal drenching his length as he keeps bucking into you. “Oh-ungh, Yuta- it’s too- too much!” You sob, your overstimulated clit throbbing as he reaches a hand down to rub it. “Jus- jus’ gimme one more, pretty girl,” he gasps, hips drilling you at an inhuman pace. “Want you cumming on my cock one- more- time!” 

You muffle a scream as he pulls another orgasm out of your body, made all the more sweet by the feeling of his hot cum spraying inside you, filling you up so deliciously. 

Head dizzy, you lean your head forward on his broad shoulder. “Ugh, Yuta,” you gasp out. “Are you- gonna pull out?” 

He looks at you almost guiltily, and you frown. “Why’re you looking at me like that-huh?” 

You feel something twitch inside you. 

“You’re hard again?!”

[yurinaa-world]

2# —"𝓝𝓸 𝓜𝓸𝓻𝓮!"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Anaxa, Mydai, & Phainon x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: giving and receiving so many kisses

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫Part one: 💫“𝒩𝑜 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒!” (with Gallagher, Sunday, Aventurine, & Boothill)

💫𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓍𝒶 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

He wants to feel you, every part. Evening going as far as to have you like this: your body straddling on top of his lap, his arms around your waist holding you in place—and even pressing your bodies.

His face was right in front of your neck. They can’t resist himself from utterly smothering you—which is exactly what he’s doing in this movement. His lips land on your neck, and in some places, he gently taunts you with the sharp ends of his teeth with warm breath ringing your neck—making you shiver and gasp.

“Anaxa…” you gasp his name.

"Say it again," he murmurs his voice a low, velvety growl that sends a shiver down your spine. His hands trail slowly up your back, the roughness of his fingertips against your skin igniting sparks with every touch. His lips pressed heated kisses along your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. 

“Say my name again…”

Your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, staring down to meet his eye.

 “Anaxa…”

You’ll actually be the death of him

💫𝑀𝓎𝒹𝑒𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒾𝓇 𝓉𝑜 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

“You seem to be enjoying yourself, maybe even indulging too much.” 

Teasing Mydei was what you loved to do especially relating to indulging him with your love—which was constantly kissing him till he couldn’t think—but if you actually thought it would work, you are sadly mistaken.

Mydei’s lips curl into a sly grin, his amber eyes glinting with amusement as he leans closer, his face mere inches from yours while his arm around your waist pulls you right against him. "Oh, is that what you think?" he murmurs, his voice a smooth, velvety caress that sends a shiver through you. "If anyone’s indulging, it’s you. You can't seem to stop, can you?"

"And what if I don’t want to stop?" you counter, your voice steady, though your heart is racing. A smirk plays on your lips, daring him to make the next move. You press a little closer, your fingers tracing the line of his smile. "Then you’d better be prepared for the consequences," he says, his tone dropping to a low, teasing rumble. His arm tightens around your waist, holding you firmly in place as if to prove his point.

"How cruel, I just want to show my love and here you are threatening me," you whine, feigning innocence as your fingers slip into his hair.

Mydei's grin deepens in response to your comments, a sharp gleam in his eyes melting. He moves in even closer, his forehead almost brushing against yours, his breath warm on your lips. "Cruel?" he says, his tone low and playful. "If this is cruelty, then maybe I'm spoiling you far too much."

You scoff. "Are you going to spoil me? That's rich coming from the one who won't let me go," you respond, your fingertips playing with the tips of his hair

"And why would I let go?" he asks, his tone dangerously—he's about to eat you alive. 

"You keep walking into these traps, teasing me like this. I'm simply giving you exactly what you deserve."

💫𝒫��𝒶𝒾𝓃𝑜𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝒜𝓂𝓅𝒽𝑜𝓇𝑒𝓊𝓈"

 Phanion is a sly one. 

He’s got quick hands, slipping himself through your defences and leaving you with an agape mouth—He finds it quite adorable whenever he takes something from you, watching your hands touch and eyes skim around your body to see what is missing. When you did find what was missing you would immediately start complaining as he held the thing in his hand high, teasingly.

Maybe he likes this even better than the causal swiping he does.

Your face lies red as you gaze up at him with that cute face while he takes advantage of you even more—his lips land on each part of your face, You're so cute! Honestly, those feelings that adults get when they see a child and they just want to smother them with love are the same type of love he feels for you now.

He feels and sees you break beneath him, creasing your cheek with a thump, before leaning in to kiss on the lips. Even when you try to push him away from embarrassment he gently moves your hand to the side before planting another kiss place on your face with his lips.

“Don’t be like that, let me love you till you can’t think anymore.” Giggling even more so when you just shatter into little pieces.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his tone softer now, almost reverent. “I’ll take care of you, even if it means stealing every bit of composure you have.”

[malereadermaniac]

Boyfriend Experience - Rodrick x Male reader

Long-form(ish) headcannons for dating Rodrick; from the start of it to the smut of it Top!Rodrick x Bottom!Reader word count: 1k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

The first time he really paid you any mind was at his party. As more and more people left, everyone kinda chilled out and decided on playing a big game of spin the bottle with a dare twist. As the only openly gay guy out of the many players, of course your dare had something to do with a guy; drunk young adults are constantly horny, so makes sense. Rodrick really took notice of you when you were made to sit on his lap for the (long) remainder of the game; and as to avoid any awkwardness, you two made quite a bit of conversation as other people kept doing dares. And after only really talking for half an hour, when the bottle landed on Rodrick, the two of you were dared to kiss - which you did do. And you both enjoyed it.

Rodrick started to crush on you after that party, he'd already debated whether or not he was straight, that experience with you just confirmed it for him really. You also started to crush on the man, who wouldn't though? He's a pretty hot guy and in a band as the drummer! Smash. However, a problem that arose very quickly into the talking stage was that Rodrick did NOT KNOW HOW TO FLIRT. It's not exactly that he didn't have the confidence to try, Rodrick was more than happy to to make many moves on you, they were all just a little awkward or corny - but you couldn't help but find that shit cute. The rocker would always walk you to classes and act as if your class was on his way, even though he wasn't even in your building. And when you'd ask him about it, Rodrick would take the opportunity to more blatantly flirt, but whatever words would come out of his mouth would always make you laugh rather than blush... "I go outta my way for ya 'cause a face like that is worth a thousand words~" "Haha... that doesn't even make sense" Rodrick's flirting did seriously improve after the two of you started dating; or maybe you're just seeing it through rose-coloured glasses. The man's flirts are still dorky or stupid but they tend to make more sense now; plus, Rodrick prefers to show his affection via physical touch anyways. You two will be at a party and your emo-of-a-boyfriend will already be hugging onto your waist and pulling you onto his lap; his arms snug around your waist, with either his head resting on your shoulder or your arms around his neck 'for balance'.

Rodrick's ego get's a ridiculous boost whenever you come over and watch his band practice, getting very excited on the inside but never letting it show (or at least he thinks he isn't letting it show...). But you don't complain, you have to admit that watching your boyfriend go ham on some drums while looking all cool and hot wasn't something you hated. It also makes your heart skip a beat when the drummer glimpses up at you as he beats the shit out of his drums, sneaking in a wink and a smirk, then going back to whatever loud ass song he was playing.

Contrary to popular belief, Rodrick is not some sex-god! Bro was a virgin before you! Sure, his confidence did fool quite a few people (you included), but confidence alone doesn't necessarily mean you pull... In fact, your boyfriend was such a virgin, that he had to wikihow tips on sex in the lead up to asking you to fuck! That being said though, after the first couple of nights together, where you mostly had to teach your boyfriend the ropes and be patient, Rodrick really got the hang of it! Like, really well, too well! His love for physical touch crosses over into intimate moments between you two, so expect many kisses along your body, fingers gliding over your skin, soft bites, a tight hold on your waist or hips or thigh. Oh and once Rodrick really gained some confidence when having sex with you? That's when your boyfriend became a fucking man, talking you through it like a pro; praising you, holding your leg up onto his built shoulder as he slowly thrusts into you, lowly singing you praises and chanting your name through his panting - holy shit this man knows how to get you off!

It's quite funny that Rodrick's mum really likes you. She finds that you're his only friend that's a good influence, meaning that Rodrick can do whatever he wants as long as he mentions you being there! You're also the only friend allowed to sleep round his; that being hilarious, because you're the only friend which Rodrick is fucking every other night. You're boyfriend's mum is blissfully unaware of you and her son doing ungodly things under her roof, and it's kind of a turn on for the both of you... Rodrick will be fingering you whilst shouting a 'goodnight' to his parents like it's nothing! Turning back around to you and giving you a small smirk and a 'shush', 'cause you wouldn't want his parents to hear you? Would you? You wouldn't want them to know how loose Rodrick gets you, you wouldn't want them to hear your hole making phallic sound of squelching, or to hear your pants and moans of their son's name. But that goes both ways! Rodrick would die if his parents heard his moaning and groaning of your name, if they saw his disheveled look as his fingers curled into your hair whilst you sucked his dick ever so nicely.

Cute little bonus: Rodrick gets suuuuuper jealous but doesn't know how to really express that... Which usually just leads to the man being a little emo in public and trying to show off! Emphasising the tiny height difference between you two by resting his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist, and even flexing his muscles; Rodrick pulls out all the stops in order to show off, in aims to get any small compliment from you so that he'll feel less jealous and inferior. In private though, his jealousy does come out a little more, your boyfriend becoming a soppy mess about some guy flirting with you; but don't worry, Rodrick's jealousy turns into horniness real quick!

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Twenty

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4.1k words - AO3 Tags: 18+ mdni, nurse reader, feelings of fear and panic, PTSD, references to domestic violence. Trauma, blood. Flashbacks. Dubious ethics and morality, dark content.

“Are ye comin’ inside?”

“I need a minute.” He needs more than a minute. He needs days, weeks. Needs to wind back the clock and slam it into the ground, over and over again, until the springs and hands and tiny numbers splinter into pieces.

Failure. He failed. They failed.

They failed you.

“Wait, go back.” The video pauses and rolls backward, all the way until Simon tells Kate to stop it when you step out of the elevator. “What’s in her hand?” 

“Dinnae,” Johnny’s nose is practically touching the screen. 

“The recording is pretty low quality; I’ve tried enhancing it with no luck.” Kate’s voice crackles through the speakers from the other side of the laptop, the other side of the world. This is the first time they’ve managed to get a hold of her in weeks, and even now, the connection is half static. 

“Looks like a piece of paper, or a picture?” Johnny murmurs, leaning back. 

“This is just before she bolts,” the playback continues, and they watch as you walk down the hall, bright smile fading when you reach the corner. “She’s here for a minute and then runs…” Simon is glued to the screen, forward on his haunches, and Johnny rubs his back, kneading his knuckles into that ever-present knot in his shoulder. He watches your head turn, your back stiffen, and Johnny sucks in a breath. 

Kate nods the confirmation. She’s already put the puzzle together. 

Graves.

You’re reacting to Graves, seeing Graves. Entire demeanor shifting, changing from their sweet, smart girl with newfound confidence, to a deer, shocked and startled, running from a scope. 

Graves.

It’s simple math. Plain as day. You take one look at where he’s come around the corner, running his mouth, chewing that fucking gum, and split. 

It’s Graves. 

And it all makes sense. 

“-you don’t know what he’s capable of. You don’t understand. He’s chased me across the world, he always finds me, no matter what, no matter what I do”

“He’s in the military. Some sort of security work, department of defense, or something. He never really talked about it.”

“He always finds me.” 

“He has resources. Has followed me across the globe more than once. My only saving grace is that when he has to work, he has to work, and it’s usually for long chunks of time.”

“I’m originally from Texas.” 

Texas. Texas. Texas. 

There was a conversation, months ago, that slipped through Simon’s fingers. A wisp of a suspicion, one pushed away by doubt, by disbelief.  

Not possible. A coincidence. 

He was wrong, about being wrong. He was right, all along.

Johnny nearly flips the table before Simon urges him back down. “Where… where does she go after this?” 

“She gets the car,” Simon answers, timeline clicking into place, “she borrows that gits car, comes home, packs a bag, and runs.” Johnny’s hands are shaking, fingers white against his knees. 

They’ll kill him. He’ll paint the walls with Phillip’s blood. They’ll do what should have done in the first place. 

He should have protected you, should have seen it all clearly. Should have applied more pressure and made you crack, if only for your own safety. 

He failed. 

They failed. 

“That piece o’ shite, I’ll-“ 

“Kill him.” Simon finishes simply, and they exchange a look. A promise without words. Simon will shatter his skull between his palms if he has to. 

Johnny nods. The gears are already turning. Are they so different from a man who has stopped at nothing to drag you back to him? 

No. 

They'd burn the world for you, to protect you, to bring you home to them. 

Kate clears her throat. “There’s more.” More? “I was checking some records, looking at her last clock out, when the last paycheck was paid out and I pulled her personal information, her medical chart.” Kate’s tone is wary, hesitant, and Johnny straightens. 

“What is it?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, unsure trepidation that’s so unlike Kate the hair on the back of Simon’s neck stands up. 

“Kate…” 

“She’s pregnant.” You could hear a pin drop. Johnny’s rage turns to panic, and an ocean of blood rushes in Simon’s ears. 

“She’s- she’s what?” 

“She’s pregnant. By now, she’s probably twenty weeks, maybe? I’m not sure. I don’t know much about those things, but her chart notes say both of them are… were in good health. Low risk.” 

“Twenty weeks,” Johnny echoes, faraway look in his eyes. 

A baby. You’re pregnant. 

Pregnant. Pregnant and alone, and scared. Running away.  

From them. 

Simon’s trying to wrap his head around it, but he can’t. The information doesn’t fit. It doesn’t make sense. 

“If she’s twenty weeks, then she’s been pregnant since before she left.” Johnny’s talking to himself at this point, because Simon can’t force his mouth to make words. “Why keep it a secret?” Kate is telling them something about index hits and cameras, but it all amounts to nothing after you board the train, and Simon still fails to make a sound. 

And then, she piles it on. 

“Graves is in the wind.” Simon’s heart stops like he’s been struck by lightning, electricity jolting him alive. 

“How?” 

“He went offline. No traceable activity in the last week or so. Last known location was Texas. After that, I’m not sure. Yet.”

‘He can’t be in the wind,” Johnny whisper shouts, all too aware of Penny upstairs, napping. “We need to know where he is. Now.” 

“I’m doing all I can. He has resources too, you know. A lot of them.” The screen goes black for a second, before she reappears, lips pressed into a grim line. “I have to go. I’ll keep you updated. Sorry guys.”

They can only nod. 

It’s clear as day, what happened now. How you saw them in the hallway, how you drew the conclusion, one that seemed so painfully obvious, connected the dots that appeared in your mind, stringing together bits and pieces until it all made sense.

He knows what will have to happen now. They both do. 

Simon presses his forehead to Johnny’s. “We’ll find her.” 

“An’ bring her home.” 

“No matter what.” 

The rest is left unsaid. 

You’re having a dream.

It’s a lovely one, more of a memory than anything else, but a dream, nonetheless.

“This still feels like a bad idea.” 

“Isnae, ye’ll do great bun. Jus’ the ‘hawk now.” You’ve already finished the sides of his head, which were easy enough, but using actual scissors to cut hair is well outside your wheelhouse. 

“What if I mess it up?” 

“It’s jus’ hair, pretty girl. It grows.” 

“How’s it going out here?” Simon leans out the sliding door, Penny in his arms, and you try to plead with him with wide, nervous eyes. He chuckles. “Looks good so far.” 

“See?” Johnny smiles, one of the big ones that stretches his whole face and makes your knees weak. Penny loves them too, and she claps her hands together, giggling. 

“But… I don’t… I’m going to mess it up.” Johnny stands, warm hands on your arms. 

“Ye could shave me bald and wouldnae mess it up, bun.” You nod, but the acid, noxious taste of worry is still there on your tongue. 

“I just… I…” you’re starting to shake a little, fingers squeezing together. He tugs you into his chest, kisses your temple. 

“Ye’re alright.” 

“I know.” You do know. You’re safe. They’d never hurt you, never betray your trust or even yell at you, but muscle memory doesn’t forget. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Ye dinnae have to be sorry.” 

“It’s okay, bunny.” Simon murmurs, but it’s not. 

Is this how you’ll spend your whole life? Afraid? Shaking? 

No. 

Not anymore. 

“If I ruin his hair… it’s not my fault.” Simon chuckles. 

“We’ll blame him.” You turn back to Johnny and put your hands on his shoulders, taking a deep breath, surveying the mop of unruly brown strands, and he covers one of yours with his own. 

“It’s okay. If ye-“ 

“No, I can. I can do it.” You don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s just a hair cut, for crying out loud, but for some reason it feels like plunging into the deep end of a pool. “Okay,” you breathe, making the first snip. He nods encouragingly and you roll your shoulders. 

“See? Not so bad?” 

“Not so bad.” You cut again and again, trying to manage it all into a proper length, shaping as best you can. 

Each snip, something grows. Your hands tremble a little less, your jaw unclenches, lips flexing upward into your cheeks. You breathe deeper. 

When Johnny turns around, he doesn’t care about his hair, or the slightly uneven chunks, or the fresh clippings on his shirt. 

He cups your face, kissing you before pulling away to rub his thumb across your cheek. 

“There she is.” 

Spring rain. There’s nothing like it.

It washes away the gloom of winter. It’s the turning of a page, the spine of a brand-new book snapped open with a splintering crack. Cabin fever becomes walks in the park, lunches and coffees outside, hanging out on balconies and patios.

Dead things turned to soil now sprouting new life.

Like you, you guess.

You’ve been dead before. If someone looked really closely, they could see it in your eyes. The grey of decay, the separation of iris and pupil. Dead and brought back not quite right, every time. Sally, stitched together incorrectly, the wrong pieces of patchwork, poorly aligned.

Every time he ripped another piece of you away, you found a different one, one less like you, to put in its place.

Every time, until you weren’t you at all. Until you were a girl in a mirror. Until you were a ghost.

It makes sense that you don’t know yourself now, haven’t known for years. On the run, there’s not a lot of time to stop and consider things like that, those pieces. Coffee or tea? Chocolate cake or vanilla? Do you like snow? Do you like the beach? 

Do you like yourself? 

You could have had these answers, you think. Could have learned these things, if it hadn’t turned out the way it did. If Simon and Johnny hadn’t turned out to be a hydra, mouths open, waiting to devour you.

Sunbeam kicks. They nail you in the bladder, and you wince, rubbing over the crest of your belly. “You’re killing me, you know that?” You feel like you’ve been hit by a bus, every day. The aches and pains are never ending, your back and hips screaming by the end of a shift. You can’t sleep, the heartburn makes it hard to eat, you’re never comfortable.

The whole time, you curse them, Simon and Johnny.

Their fault, it’s their fault.

And yours too. 

But no matter how tired, how sore, how cranky you are, you can’t bring yourself to regret it, and in your dreams, it’s like all the bad, all the awful betrayal didn’t even happen. You dream of a family with them, Penny holding her little sibling, the five you together. It’s all been buried in your mind, too deep and nearly impossible to dig out. The visions of them, the longing, the good memories. You’re infested with them.

You didn’t want this. You wanted them, you wanted it all, and that might be the hardest thing about it. You weren’t given a choice, this decision was made for you, taken from you, just like almost everything else.

Except little sunbeam. You wanted them, chose them, will choose them, over and over, forever, keep them safe, make sure they know they’re loved.

No matter what. 

It’s the train, always the train.

Not the long rail train, the commuter train. The one that takes you to and from work, the one that’s sometimes-standing room only, though most people offer you their seat, which is surprisingly kind, compared to where you’re from.

Regardless, you feel the gaze on the train, and no matter how hard you scan, dissect, watch the people around you, there’s nothing. All three faces, three sets of eyes, three profiles, are never anywhere to be seen.

It’s overwhelming, unsettling. The stress of this prickling unease combined with the stress and physical strain of your job is taking its toll on both you and Sunbeam, as the midwife likes to remind you.

Take it easy, take some time off, try to relax. Stay hydrated, eat well.

Yeah… okay.

You rub your belly anxiously, tugging your hood farther over your head, trying to look around without being so obvious.

“Excuse me?” You jolt, startled by a man standing at your elbow, pointing to a vacant spot on a bench. “Would you like my seat?” His smile is subtle, matching an encouraging but not overly intrusive demeanor.

“Sure, thank you so much.” He nods, stepping to the side, into the space between the seat and the divider, close to the door. You try to swing your backpack in front of you, but it gets caught, and he snags it before it falls. “Sorry, thanks.”

“Of course, no problem.” You give him another glance. Really handsome, rich brown eyes you could get lost in. He’s got a baseball cap on, but it’s not pulled down over his face like your hood, he’s not trying to hide. “I’ll move when your stop comes up.”

“Okay, it’s not for a while so, no worries.” He might be kind, but he’s still a stranger, and you’re not going to divulge anything specific. Stranger danger. 

Not everyone is a threat but… 

“How far along are you?” You blink.

“Uh, about twenty-five weeks, give or take a few days.” He nods.

“My wife is due next week; it’s been a rollercoaster.”

“Yeah, it’s not the easiest.” You laugh, a little apprehensive, but also, a little glad, secretly, to have a casual conversation with someone. He sticks his hand out.

“I’m Kyle.” Your tongue rolls with the practiced name you’ve memorized, the one you’ve drilled into yourself over and over again. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, you too.” The next stop is announced, and he moves gracefully, reaching for his bag and tugging it over his shoulder, barely giving you a second glance.

“This is me, have a good day.”

“Thanks.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder at you when he’s getting off, doesn’t watch you through the window from the platform. He’s completely uninterested, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

The box is delivered on a Tuesday.

The Scottish government gives you almost everything you need. Clothes, thermometers, baby books, a changing mat, a mattress, a sheet, a blanket, the list goes on. The box even doubles as a bassinet.

You cry over it. Rifling through everything, tears drip down your cheeks and you bury your face in your hands. You didn’t get to share an ultrasound with anyone, or have a shower, or hold someone’s hand to your belly as sunbeam kicked, but there’s this. A box full of baby stuff, a box that says no matter how hard it is, you and sunbeam will have a good start. Even Sunbeam’s room is halfway sorted at this point, crib set up, dresser half stocked with clothes, collection of diapers and burp cloths and bottles starting to pile up in various places in their room. You’ve made it comfortable, slowly, mix matched furniture and all.

Every day feels like a year, but as each one passes, you slowly adjust to a new normal, a new life. Something you made, again, from scratch, for yourself, your survival.

And now, for Sunbeam.

One day, maybe it will feel like home.

You really need to stop buying so much crap at the store.

You practically have to drag your grocery loot into the elevator, bags overflowing with fruit, vegetables, cans of formula. Random cleaning products, stuff for baby proofing, a new candle.

Apparently, some call this nesting. You just call it annoying.

You lean against the wall and close your eyes for a moment, shifting your weight to alleviate the pressure on your spine.

Thirty weeks.

Ten weeks left.

Ten weeks left. It’s wild to even think about, to even say to yourself, or out loud. You’re going to be a mom in ten weeks. Going to have a whole human depending on you for every single thing, in ten weeks.

You’ll be alone, with a newborn, in ten weeks.

Alone.

It still aches. Stings. Salt in the wound-

Lit end of a cigarette against your skin.

You instinctively cup your belly, thumb rubbing over where one of your burn scars has been stretched by Sunbeam, and shiver.

You’re fine. You’re safe. Get it together.

“We’re home!” You announce to no one, no one except Gus the goldfish who’s swimming circles around his bowl. You got him two weeks ago on an impulse, following a pathetic, sad desire all the way to the pet store.

It’d be nice to have something to come home to. 

You tap a few flakes into the water and watch him gobble them up, oddly soothed by his presence in the flat.

This is how far you’ve fallen. Taking comfort in a damn goldfish.

You blow out a breath and fall onto the couch, swinging your legs up onto the cushions, dragging the pillows under your ankles, or what used to be your ankles. They’re more like overstuffed sausages now, tops of your sneakers cutting into your skin. Every chance you get, you’re finding places to sit at work, caught yourself leaning most of your weight on your patient’s beds, more than once. Thankfully, your coworkers are overwhelmingly understanding.

And when you come home, you do this. Collapse on the couch. Talk to a goldfish, or Sunbeam, or both.

The oddest trio: Mom, baby, goldfish.

You manage to limit yourself to three bites of ice cream before putting the carton away in the freezer. You’re supposed to be watching your sugar intake, apparently, not because you’re at risk for gestational diabetes, but because Sunbeam is already projected to be on the bigger side.

You look mournfully at container, spoon still in hand.

One more. What’s it going to hurt? One more bite isn’t going to turn Sunbeam into a giant, it’s-

Knuckles rap against your door.

Your blood goes cold, colder than ice, and you instinctively find the floor, crouching by the fridge, using it to shield yourself, keeping away from the door’s direct line of sight.

The knocking gets louder.

Someone’s saying something on the other side of the door, but you can’t hear it over the buzzing, beeping sound in your ears.

How. 

How? How did it happen so fast? Where did you fuck up? 

The fear you once felt for yourself pales in comparison to the true fear you feel now. You’re supposed to protect Sunbeam, supposed to keep them safe.

You’re supposed to be a mom. 

A sob claws its way out, and you clap your palm over your mouth, agony squeezing your heart, panic clutching your throat in a vise, choking off your air, throttling you until you’re gasping.

You should run, should sprint into the bedroom and grab the gun from under your mattress, should start crawling out the window to the fire escape.

You should do these things, but instead, you’re trapped, immobile, watching with horror as the deadbolt turns horizontal, sliding the lock free with a bloodcurdling click.

Your baby. You were supposed to keep your baby safe. 

You failed. 

You stand, so unsteady you have to support your weight by leaning against the counter. The only thing in here are kitchen knives, and you rip two from the block, one hiding behind your back, the other brandished in front of your body like a sword.

You’re going to die. 

But not without a fight. 

Tears wet your cheeks. “I’m sorry,” you choke, sliding a hand over little Sunbeam, “I’m so- so sorry.”

The creak of the door handle is unmistakable, a metal whine scraping against the frame. You close your eyes.

“Bunny.”

Your heart stops.

The men you thought love you are standing just inside your kitchen, the sight of them turning your stomach, their eyes flicking between you and the shiny, sharp knife in your hand.

Johnny inches forward, his voice a low, gentle murmur, one that cracks your heart. “It’s okay pretty girl, we’re here to take ye home.”

“Get away from me.” The knife is practically rattling in your hand.

"It's alright. We’d never hurt ye, either of ye. We know what ye saw and-“

“N-no,” you sob, voice cracking, shoulders shaking, “don’t come near me.”

“Put that down, sweet girl, it’s alright.” Simon edges around the counter, caution and wary weighing his steps. They’re supposed to be muffled you think, soft, but they ring so loud.

“Stop!”

“Just let us explain, give us a minute-“

“I saw you! I saw you w-with him.” Your vision is blurred by tears, and you look down at your belly, desperate. “Just let us go, please. Don’t- don’t let him-“

“Listen to me, sweetheart. We have nothing to do with Phillip.” His name makes your flinch, and you inch backwards.

“You know him.”

“We do. He tried to kill us, betrayed us, on a mission. Nearly succeeded with Johnny.” The words conflict, mash together into a scramble you don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.

More lies. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know, I know you don’t. I wouldn’t if I was in your position either, but we’re telling the truth.” You shake your head.

“No. You’re just… you���re just trying to trick me.”

“We’re not,” Johnny murmurs, “We’ve always told ye the truth, bun. And we’d never hurt ye.” He steps forward. It’s too close, way too close, and you pivot, both knives still clutched in your hands.

“Put them down.” Simon instructs, a little bit of steel in his voice now. He can obviously see the one behind your back, and your heart starts to sink.

There’s no way out. You should have run when you had the chance. 

Stupid.

The girl in the mirror stays silent. She says nothing.

For all you know, she’s dead already. Killing blow dealt by your own hand.

You think about Sunbeam, all warm and safe, protected from the world, and despair swells in your chest, an entire ocean beneath your feet, waiting to swallow you up, drag you down and drown you.

“Now, sweetheart. We don’t want you to hurt yourself.” You laugh. It’s a sickly, nervous thing, too tinny and high pitched.

You’re falling apart. You’re not a fighter, you’re a runner, shot lame in a race rigged against you from the beginning. They’re closing in, wolves stalking the bleeding lamb between them, predators about to fall on prey.

 “Don’t,” whisper, fingers tightening around the knife in front of your body, unable to hold it steady through the trembling.

“Bunny, listen to us, please.” Johnny is reaching and you get trapped in his gaze, spiraling into the swirl of misery and fear, mirroring your own. “I love ye, we love ye. Ye belong with us, at home, where we can keep ye safe.” You slam your eyes shut, trying to block him out. “I’ve loved ye since the day I opened m’eyes and saw ye leaning over the bed. We’d never hurt ye, we jus’ want to take ye home.”

Out of the corner of your eye, Simon moves. One powerful, huge step, and he’s on you, grabbing your arm, applying pressure to your knuckles to release the knife.

You scream. It’s instinct. Everything shuts down, narrowing down to one objective.

Run.

“Johnny,” he half shouts over your keening, holding gentle pressure against your arm as you try to rip yourself free. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” You thrash, trying to twist out of his grip, shoulder shrieking in pain, and he goes with your momentum, providing slack so there’s no tension in your arm. “Stop, you’re going to hurt yourself sweetheart, you’re okay.”

You’re not. 

You’re not okay. You’ll never be okay. 

The walls close in, and it all becomes so clear. Your future, what will happen if they take you, if you leave here with them.

They’ll take Sunbeam. They’ll turn you over to Phillip, throw you out like trash, and you’ll die.

Are you going to let it happen, just like you let everything else? Are you going to roll over? Let it all be stolen, again and again? 

No. 

Simon reaches for the other knife and you swing it wide, slicing through the air until the blade meets flesh.

He hisses. Blood spills, drips down the handle, coats your fingers, and you stand there, frozen, gobsmacked.

Did you- 

Did you just- 

“Johnny,” he barks, but it barely registers, you’re too transfixed by the blood, hypnotized by it, too entranced to even register Johnny at your side, too stunned to see what’s in his hand.

A needle. 

He whispers your name, cradles your face-

And then everything goes black.

[trashytracktales]

Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*

Think twice | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025

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THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.

The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.

It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.

Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.

Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.

Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.

“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.

“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.

Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.

“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.

But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”

Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.

“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”

Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.

“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.

He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.

She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.

Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.

Want, being the keyword.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.

Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.

He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.

He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.

She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.

Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.

When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.

“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.

Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.

She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”

He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.

Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.

“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.

She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.

“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”

The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”

He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.

They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.

Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.

Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.

Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”

“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.

His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”

His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.

She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.

Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?

His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.

The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.

She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.

It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.

“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.

“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”

She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”

His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”

Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”

His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”

The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.

And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.

He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”

Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.

Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.

And now?

“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.

She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”

He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.

Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”

He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”

Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.

Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.

Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.

“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.

When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”

Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.

Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.

His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”

With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.

Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”

She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t—” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.

As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”

Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”

The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.

Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.

His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.

“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.

As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.

Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.

In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”

Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.

By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.

“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.

Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.

“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.

His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.

Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”

Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.

Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.

“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.

Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.

“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.

The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”

Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.

“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”

Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.

Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.

It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.

When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.

Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”

He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.

After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.

He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.

The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

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© trashy track tales, 2025

[dahlibae]

FEEL MY LOVE.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

(wanda maximoff x fem!reader)

summary — Your Wanda’s first relationship since her divorce.

warning(s) — drabble: age gap, fluff, friends to lovers, kisses, smut, they’re so soft, finger sucking, cunnilingus, love confession! (18+)

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Wanda had never expected to find love again, much less with a woman. After the emotional turmoil of her divorce, she’d resigned herself to the idea that her days of romance were behind her. But then there was you—bright, kind, and effortlessly charming. You came into her life like a warm breeze, reminding her of what it felt like to laugh, to cry, to love.

At first, she was hesitant. Her feelings confused her, having never felt this way for another woman before. She wasn’t sure if it was simply the thrill of something new or something deeper. After all, you had started off as friends. Good friends. You had moved to Westview after a job relocation and your daughter had been enrolled at the same school as Wanda’s boys. They all took to each other immediately, and your daughter rushed home after school to tell you about her new friends who had invited her over to play.

But when Wanda caught herself staring at you during your shared morning coffee runs, your early morning drop offs, your shared grocery runs, smiling at the way you crinkled your nose when you laughed, she knew it was real.

She had fallen in love.

Your first kiss was in her kitchen. She’d invited you over for dinner—a recipe she nervously perfected the entire week—and as you helped her clean up, your hands brushed hers while drying a plate. The moment lingered, and before either of you knew it, you both leaned in. Her lips, soft as ever, and her breath warm against yours.

She pulled back first, her cheeks flushed.

"Too soon?" She questioned shyly, her hands trembling slightly.

“Not soon enough.” You replied, soothing the older woman’s nerve by leaning in for another kiss, dishes left in the sink as you wrapped your arms around her waist.

From that moment, the two of you were inseparable—like lovesick teenagers discovering the thrill of romance. Wanda would eagerly invite you and your daughter over for cozy family movie nights. The evenings would start with the kids taking charge of the remote, their excited voices filling the room as they insisted on watching their favourite shows. Eventually, their energy would fade, and they’d fall asleep in a blanket fortress they’d built in the living room.

With the children settled, you and Wanda would quietly retreat upstairs to enjoy movies of your own. You quickly learned that she had an undeniable love for old sitcoms, far more than their modern counterparts. She’d sit close to you on the bed, the flickering screen casting a warm glow over the room. Inevitably, her head would find its place on your shoulder, and you’d tease her about knowing every line by heart.

She’d respond with a playful elbow to your side, her laughter soft and contagious.

“You’re just mad I’m not giving you attention.” She’d tease, her voice low and affectionate as she leaned closer. Her face would hover near yours, her lips curving into a smile before she pressed a series of gentle, lingering kisses to your lips.

“You’re so beautiful.” You’d admit. Her long brunette curls falling around you as she beamed down at you. Her mouth pressed kisses all over your face, but you sought out her lips, craving the taste of her, immediately opening your mouth for the brush of her tongue. You were warm, heavy and satisfied, but as your hands roamed her body, taking in every inch of cream skin and smooth curves through her pyjamas, that warmth began burned deep within. Taking her hands in yours, you kissed across her veins; lips weaving a delicate pattern over smooth skin from wrist to the tips of fingers. Once there, you allowed your tongue to push past your lips and take her soaked digits into your mouth.

A small gasp fell from her mouth as you released her to pull her lips back on yours, “Please, Wanda.”

And with that, she fell sideways, pulling you to drape over her lean frame. The most beautiful thing in the world. Her hands—large, but steady—pressed gently against your back, anchoring you against her. The scent of her shampoo, something faintly citrus yet floral, drifted up to you, grounding you in the here and now.

Her fingers rose to brush lightly against your jawline, “What is it, baby?”

You pressed closer to her, unable to answer, as your lips fell upon hers, hands reaching for the fabric between you. She immediately understood, nodding her head quickly before unlatching her arms from around you to pull her pyjamas off. She was left clad in her panties as she helped take yours off too, desperate to pull you back over her. Her leg slipped between yours, and the friction sent sparks through you, a gasp tumbling from your lips.

She smiled against your mouth, her dark eyes glowing with something raw, unspoken, and utterly consuming.

“I’ve always wanted you like this.” She murmured, her voice barely audible.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, the light catching on the subtle curves of her face, her flushed cheeks, her slightly swollen lips. You ran your fingers through her curls, letting them tumble through your hands like silk, and whispered back, “You don’t know how long I’ve needed you.”

Her hands cradled your face now, thumbs brushing the corners of your mouth, her touch both grounding and electric.

“You have me.” She whispered, her tone leaving no room for doubt, her gaze locked on yours like an unbreakable tether.

You kissed your way down her body, her thighs spread wide, her sex swollen, wet, and glistening with desire through her damp panties. You discarded the offending fabric before slowly parting her lips, watching as she pulsed under your touch, every movement of your fingers drawing soft whimpers from her. Her moans deepened as your tongue traced a path from her entrance to the sensitive bundle of nerves at her core. You paused just long enough to let the anticipation build before settling on the side of her clit, your tongue lapping in slow, deliberate strokes. Your hands slid beneath her thighs, anchoring her as her fingers tangled in your curls, gripping tighter with every wave of pleasure that coursed through her. Her breath hitched, her body arching toward your mouth as you devoured her with unrelenting focus.

“Fuck.” You heard her gasp, unable to catch her breath, as her hips began to rock into you, close to falling over the edge. Her whines became moans, and teeth clamped down on her swollen lips, trying to keep quiet. One last flick of your tongue, and she fell over the edge, walls contracting as she rocked into your face, riding out the rest of her orgasm as you held your tongue still against her.

“Baby.” She called for you, fingers brushing yours as she led you back up her body and to her swollen lips, sharing her sweet taste. “My baby.” She whispered, eyes fluttering open, half-lidded and glazed.

You giggled at the sight of the usually reserved woman, to which she replied with a head tilt, “What?”

“Nothing,” you replied, “I just…love you.” The words left you before you could second-guess them, before you could talk yourself out of it.

Her fingers stroked against your cheek, guiding you back down to place a soft kiss to your lips, before detouring as she loudly kissed against your entire face.

You squealed rather childishly, not bothering to fight her attack, knowing you couldn’t stop her even if you tried. But for a moment, she just looked at you, her eyes searching yours, and you wondered what she saw there—if she saw the way your heart was practically beating out of your chest, the way your entire body felt like it's caught in a storm. Then, without warning, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours in another kiss so fierce, so consuming, it left you breathless.

“I love you too.” She said, and there was no hesitation, no doubt.

Just the truth, as raw and beautiful as she was.

[ridingthatd]

nanami kento was a composed man.

but something about seeing your round pregnant belly did something to him- the way your belly was swollen with his seed did something to his cock.

it drove him crazy how your body started changing as soon as you got pregnant.

your body became so soft, every inch of you was plumpy especially your dirty little pussy. he was in awe at how puffy and sore it became, how red and sensitive your little fat clit was. the way your pussy lips became so swollen.

how you became so sensitive, reacting to every little touch he gives you. just as much as him gently rubbing your swollen clit would have you spraying your hot juice all over the bed sheets.

and don't get him started on your huge swollen tits. they were so sensitive, so full leaking milk everywhere. just the sight of your red perky nipples has the veins on his fat cock throbbing in need.

nanami kento has become so nasty.

so nasty asking you to give him a boob job, spraying your milk on his fat cock as you slide it between your sensitive tits. his dick would be coated with your milk having him shaking under you from how filthy it is.

"ngh-! fuck just like that". kento groans as he squeeze your fat nipples between his fingers spraying your warm milk all over his leaking cock.

as soon as he feels your hot milk on his sensitive leaking tip his cum burst everywhere.

he gaze through heavy eyelids at the filthy sight of your milk mixing with his cum.

nanami growls before picking you up and slamming his fat cock inside your swollen pussy.

"ahhhhhh-! na-nanami". you scream your pussy gripping so tightly on his cock causing nanami to hiss in pain and pleasure.

the walls of your pussy were so sticky and slimey, he was hitting your sensitive cervix with each thrust.

"you wanna cum on daddy's cock? yea?". kento coo at you pushing your legs further into your body, placing them next to your head.

the position gape your pussy wider for him, his fat cock was hitting every sensitive spot inside of you while he takes your wet tongue inside his mouth and suckle on it.

you eagerly nod, wanting him to fill your puffy pussy with his boiling seeds. his thick cock was stretching the gummy walls of your pussy driving you crazy.

"then milk daddy's cock for him like a good little slut". he growls as he leans back, the string of spit was still connecting your tongues.

your body violently trembles, eyes crossed.

"fuck! fuck! fuck!" nanami whimpers at how tightly your pussy was milking his dick.

your arch your body before hot fluid start spraying everywhere from both your swollen pussy and nipples.

kento whines his cock was about to explode from the filthy sight in front of him. your nipples were gushing milk out from the force of your orgasm.

coating him with your milk and cum.

nanami immediately take one of your fat nipples in his mouth, sweet, so sweet, so sweet.

nanami repeats to himself, hips rocking into your sticky pussy before he spills with a grunt inside of you.

"im going to fuck a twin inside of you". nanami promise with a huff.

[miedei]

heyoo🫶 idk if your spencer requests are still open but all I've been able to think about for weeks is s4ep9 spencer being the most adorable nerd when he was warning the women at the club about the serial and them being the reader's friends going back to the reader with like drinks or whatever laughing about "that nerdy loser" at which reader's practically frothing at the mouth asking them "WHERE" and then hardcore flirting with an oblivious (and/or blushing mess) spence to the team's amusement and reader just thinking "need me a pathetic loser like that" (affectionate). im not even sure this makes sense but i just go feral for nerd reid. im really looking forward to reading this and thank you in advance if you do write this🥰

REAL REAL REAL need me a pathetic loser boy

peacocking

spencer gets hit on at the club!!

wc: 1.2k

cw: none i think?? spence is cute and pathetic, r is the kind of flirty i only aspire to be

(PS: reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

mlist

The club is busy, lighting dim, the music so loud that you can feel the bass thumping in your chest. It's a stark difference from the brightly-lit bathroom you just emerged from, wearing three new products of makeup courtesy of the drunken friends you've just made.

The crowd is thick, and you can just barely spot your friends, huddled around a hard-won table. You push through people, not bothering to apologise, until you've returned to the group.

You're greeted with whoops and cheers, and a drink is pushed into your hand before you can even sit down. Alcohol-fueled shouts leave their mouths, and you get the distinct feeling that they've somehow had at least two more rounds in the time you've been gone. You can barely focus on one person's speech, the words overlapping in their excitement.

"-and he was, like, the hottest guy I've ever seen!"

"-but he wouldn't take my number because he was working, and-"

"-his friend was pretty awkward though-"

"-like a string bean! Nerdy as hell, think it was his first time in a club-"

"-was like he'd never spoken to a woman before, kept talking about the serial killer-"

You hold up a hand, a little bewildered at the bombardment of information.

"Hold on- serial killer?" One of your friends shakes her head a little, as if clearing her mind.

"Not here, at least they pretty sure. Some creep's been picking up women and killing them at clubs, so there were cops or something here giving out fliers." A flier is thrusted into your hand, a sketch of a guy looking up at you.

"And, one of the cop guys was gorgeous! Adonis, Casanova, whatever the fuck you'd call him, he was so pretty..." She sighs wistfully, pointing across the room to a gaggle of women surrounding a well-built guy holding fliers like the one in your hand.

"The other guy was a little sad, though. Real nerd type."

Another voice butts in. "Yeah! I mean, look at him, I feel a little bad for him, he's clearly striking out and he's here for his job."

The pointing finger shifts, and your attention is directed to a lanky guy standing towards the edges of the crowd, near the bar. He looks nervous, hands fiddling with the stack of fliers he's got, and he doesn't seem to be trying to approach anyone anymore.

He's clearly uncomfortable, skittish in his stance. A nerd to his core, probably never the type to be wading through a crowd like this. He looks a little pathetic.

You've got to have him.

You tell your friends as much, and are met with drunken encouragement, slaps on the back and reminders to use protection. Setting down the flyer and your drink, you steel yourself, smoothing back your hair before walking with purpose across the room.

Once you near him, you slide onto a barstool, flagging down the bartender and pretending not to notice the new love of your life. He's clearly clocked you, and seems to be trying to work up the courage to approach you. Once you've given your order, you decide to make it easier for him.

Turning on the stool, you look up at him, eyes slightly hooded.

"You not having fun? It's a club, you should probably unbutton that shirt a little." It's thrilling, the way his eyes widen and he looks around him, as if you could be speaking to anyone else right now.

"Well, I actually- I'm actually here for my work, so..." His cheeks flush, and you continue with the oblivious act.

"Work? I've got to say, you're gorgeous, but I didn't think you were the type to be hired as a waiter here." You gesture to the scantily-clad waitress that passes you. He opens and closes his mouth a couple times, before seemingly remembering something. He rifles through his leather bag, producing a wallet with ID.

"Um, no, I don't work here. I'm- I'm an FBI agent. Doctor Spencer Reid. H-hi." Cute and smart? It's a wonder you haven't slid right off your stool.

"Yeah? And what are you doing here, Doctor Reid? Don't get me wrong, I appreciate being able to ogle you, but this doesn't exactly seem like the place for the FBI to be doing their investigating." You nod your thanks at the bartender, and run your finger along the rim of your glass, eyes locked onto Spencer's.

"Oh! Yeah," He fumbles with the papers in his hand, before holding one out to you. "There's a, um, serial killer? He's in the area, and he's targeting women at clubs like these... so," You lean forward, eyes not wavering from his, relishing in the way Spencer's eyes widen at the motion.

"So?" You prompt.

"So, uh, we're handing out those sketches," His hand, trembling slightly, comes up to point at the flyer in your hand. "and warning women to be on the lookout, not go home with anyone they don't know."

Your lips pinch slightly together, exaggerating your concern. "Oh god, Doctor Reid, that's really scary. What can I do to keep safe?"

His shoulders drop from where they were tensed near his ear, seemingly in his comfort zone here.

"Well, the unsub- the suspect is seeking validation from people, he wants women to chase him. If you meet any guys who try and play hard to get, possibly dressed flaboyantly, stay away and tell the police." You tilt your head questioningly, prompting him to continue.

"He's peacocking. It's a method that some people use to draw attention away from their faces. By using some ornate and distracting piece of clothing, he's diverting attention away from his face." His hands fly around him wildly as he speaks, long fingers wriggling and punctuating his words.

"Uh huh? So this... sweater." Your hand comes up, nearly unconsiously, to fiddle with the woolen texture of the sweater he's got on over his shirt. His hands still midair.

"It's distracting me plenty. Is that peacocking? But I've gotta say, I don't think anything would draw my attention away from that face." His eyes widen further, lips quivering as if he's struggling to come up with words.

"Um, I- I don't think, this isn't- isn't peacocking. This is just... how I dress." Your smirk widens further, hand still twisted in the collar of his sweater. The other agent, the one your friends pointed out earlier, sidles up behind him, but pauses, observing your conversation without butting in. You've only got a little time left.

"Well, I guess you're just that captivating then. You got a pen?" You let go of his clothes, watching him flounder for a second before pulling a pen out of his pocket, holding it out to you wordlessly.

Taking it with a smile, you begin to scribble your number down on the corner of the flyer in your hand.

"I think I'm missing out, if you dress like this every day." You finish writing with a flourish, tearing out your number and tucking it in his pocket along with his pen.

"Call me, okay? Keep me safe from the killer." You pat his shoulder, brushing past him with a smile.

(If the music were any quieter, you would've heard Spencer being interrogated by Derek the moment you leave, and the subsequent call to the rest of the team to inform them of the news. Penelope falls off her chair in excitement.)

[st7rnioioss]

omg i'm so obsessed with your chris x inexperienced reader series 🙂‍↕️ hate to fill your askbox (i imagine you have lots to do !!) but could you please consider chris wanting inexperienced reader to sit on his face? even though she's shy and scared/embarrassed to do that, chris just wants to devour her

۶ৎ BSF!CHRIS x INEXPERIENCED!READER

˚𝜗𝜚 warnings... smut, oral (f receiving), kissing

“no- no, i promise it won’t hurt me. you just gotta trust me, alright?” chris had a smirk on his lips, though his tone was somewhat soothing, along with his thumbs drawing mindless circles on your inner thighs, his larger palms running up and across the soft skin beneath his own.

you nervously stare at him, your mind running in all directions. chris had asked if you could sit on his face, and you were scared shitless he would suffocate or something along the lines of it.

chris offered you a tiny smile when you nodded and cleared your throat. “o-okay.. but seriously, if you can’t breathe or something, push me o-“

“sweetheart, relax. i won’t suffocate.. you worry too much about me,” he chuckled, reaching up to cradle your face in his hand, pulling you closer for a soft kiss.

he suddenly moves you off his lap, a soft yelp escaping his lips when doing so, before he settles to rest on his back. carefully, he wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you closer and closer to his face.

slowly and deliberately, he places kisses up the inside of your thighs, leaving a glistening mark. his expression curls up into an almost smug smirk when he spots the wet patch on your panties, laughing to himself.

“oh, baby.. i think you like this, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dark and quiet when you settled close to his lips, his warm breath fanning across your inner thighs.

it was pathetic. maybe you did like this, more than you’d like to admit, hence the fact you were clenching around absolutely nothing.

“m-maybe.. a little,” your voice was slightly whiny, the words fading out at the end when chris’s hands guided you closer until your soaked core was hovering directly on top of him.

his fingers snook to your inner thighs, his digit hooked under the bridge of your already damp panties, almost admiring your glistening folds right above him.

“shit.. such a pretty pussy for such a pretty girl..” he husked, pushing the wet fabric to the side to allow the pad of his thumb to brush across your swollen clit, down your wet folds to spread apart.

“f-fuck, chris.. i don’t know- you don’t think i’m too heavy?” your skin was already buzzing, and he had hardly even started yet, one hand holding you up, while the other reached for his hair for some sort of stability.

he shook his head with a gentle smirk, looking up at you to catch your eyes. “you won’t, baby.. you worry too much,”

by now, he’d told you enough times throughout the whole day that it wouldn’t hurt either of you that you convinced yourself it wouldn’t be too bad. he had done this before, just not in this position. so why not give it a try?

with a hesitant nod, chris didn’t waste another second wrapping his arms around your thighs to actually reach your sensitive mess. suddenly, and with a yelp from your swollen lips, he thumps you down carefully, immediately attaching his lips to your bud.

your jaw goes slack, both of your hands instinctively going to entangle into his dark locks, an almost desperate moan falling from your parted lips, your cunt clenching around nothing.

“o-oh my god,” you knew that no matter what, chris could work absolutely wonders with his mouth on your body. but this? this was beyond anything he’d done, anything he’d suggested.

chris could feel you were still holding back, and he knew you were too shy to even let a fragment of your weight on top of him—but he didn’t mind.

with his tongue running over your clit, he pulled you closer to him, and you gradually allowed yourself to put some weight on him.

chris didn’t want to push you further just get, so he continued to let his muscle lap at your folds, occasionally skimming your sensitive pearl. his eyes were stuck shut for the most part, though he stole a couple of glances at your fucked out expression here and there, eliciting whimpers and groans from him that went straight through your core.

“fuck, chris- that’s.. k-keep going,” your words came out as a moan, allowing more weight to rest on top of him when tongue swirled around your nub.

he felt a sense of pride bottle up inside of him, wanting this to nothing less than make you feel like you were on cloud nine, to send you into absolute bliss—which it did.

slowly, he lowered you further down, and you were way too lost in the pleasure to even notice you were fully sitting there, besides the ache in your thighs.

chris’s own head was spinning, your taste on his tongue leading him down a path that he was sure he’d never turn around from, his fingertips digging into the plush skin of your thighs.

“mmpph- please don’t stop,” you squeaked, taking your bottom lip between your teeth to not let the pathetically loud moan that were threatening to slip, fall from your lips. your eyes batted shut, your eyelashes fluttering against your skin.

oh, he didn’t plan on stopping. chris was savoring every second of it, fucking you slowly with his tongue, testing the waters. a sheen of sweat was beaded across your lower back and forehead, a warm pool starting to spread in your lower stomach.

the new change allowed your swollen bud to brush against his nose, your legs attempting to close around his head and your lip slipping from your teeth, wailing on a moan. you could practically feel his saliva mix with your wet mess, coating his lips and chin when he traced and ghosted his tongue over your hole.

“f-fuck! chris, i’m close, please-“

your grip on his hair drove him wild, driving him to fuck you rapidly and lightly with his tongue. one of his larger hands ran up the inside of your thighs, until his thumb met your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds to taste your sweet mess.

“chris, i’m gonna cum-“ your voice was weak, only coming out as a quiet yelp, moans of his name continuing to fall freely from your parted lips.

your cunt was leaking, your hips jerking forward when the circles on your clit sped up. it felt like all your muscles were tightening, a fire running down your spine while the heat spread under your skin.

the tension snapped in your lower tummy when you were pushed over the edge, a strangled moan of his name flowing from your slacked jaw. he let out a weak groan when your release coated his tongue, his eyes pinched shut as if he never wanted to leave this position ever again.

“chris- holy fuck..” you were panting by now, your chest heaving when he continued to glide his muscle from your drooling hole, up to ghost over your bud. broken whimpers of his name fell from your mouth, trying to warn him.

"y'taste so good.. like a fuckin' drug.." chris managed to groan between your legs, his words sending vibrations up your core, his fingers leaving marks on your skin.

your thighs were close to trembling around his head, carefully tugging on his hair as a way of telling him you couldn't take anymore, which he thankfully caught onto.

with a final lap at your leaking folds and a soft kiss to your clit, he gently lifted you from his face, your body buzzing from head to toe when you settled on his hips like before, looking down at his flushed face and glistening lips.

wiping the mix of his own spit and your release off his chin, he smiled up at you, "you don't think you liked that? just a little bit?". his tone was teasing, the smile curling up into a smirk.

"stop, chris.." you shyly giggled, playfully dodging his hand away from your cheek when he reached to cradle your face, a soft, pink hue taking over the soft skin of your cheeks. to say you liked it was a complete understatement.

more bsf!chris x inexperienced!reader here!

𝜗𝜚˚࿔ notes: thank u so much anon!!:3 i hope i got her embarrassment across without making it the whole plot lol. and it's ok!! thank u all so much for the absolute love on this au, it makes me giggle so bad.

۶ৎ taglist 1: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

© ST7RNIOIOSS est. 2023

[covenofagatha]

author, can you make agatha x reader, where agatha as the head chef at the high-end restaurant and us reader as the new worker in the kitchen?

Another one from November finally done 😅 also thank you so much for the picture GOD she looks good as a chef

I have also never worked in a restaurant and I know absolutely nothing about cooking/the culinary world so I apologize for any inaccuracies just roll with it lol

Under her knife

You finally get the job of your dreams working at Agatha Harkness's restaurant

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: spanking, fingering, Agatha is a mean boss, slight dub-con, praise kink, manipulative chef!Agatha

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

It was a dream come true when you got the call that you were hired at Agatha Harkness’s restaurant, Nicky’s Steakhouse. 

She was a celebrity in the food world and getting an audience with her was near impossible. 

As luck would have it, she came into one of your classes at The Culinary Institute of America a few days before your graduation for a demonstration on how to make gateau saint honoré, a French pastry dessert and one of the most difficult to make. 

She had asked a question and you were the only one out of fifty students who raised your hand. Your voice shook as you answered and she looked surprised when you said the right thing. 

Throughout the rest of the assembly of the ingredients, she kept looking over at you, like she was making sure you were paying attention. After the lesson, she asked to speak with you in private. You had never been so nervous in your life and you would never forget the way her blue eyes burned into yours when she told you that she saw something special and wanted you to come in for an interview. 

At the high-end restaurant that she owned. 

Just because you answered a question correctly. 

But you were disappointed when you went in for it and you were met with just the sous-chef. Part of you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Agatha and was hoping you’d get to see her again.  

She asked you questions, both about your experience and school, and how to make specific dishes. And then she put you in the kitchen and told you to make lobster thermidor. 

She watched you intensely the whole time and when you were done, she took one bite and told you that you would find out within the next week. 

A day later, you got a call from Agatha herself, who told you that she wanted you on board and that you start in a week. 

And the day is finally here.

The first day of the rest of your life. You take a deep breath in your car and count to ten to calm your nerves. Your stomach is twisting in knots and you’re not sure you’ve ever been more anxious in your life. 

But you’ve got this. 

You were put on the evening shift and the moment you walk through the door, your nose is hit with the most delicious of smells. The restaurant is packed, like you’ve heard it is every night. 

You’ve never actually eaten here before; it costs an arm and a leg and culinary school wasn’t cheap. 

Winding through the tables to the kitchen, you catch sight of some of the most delectable food you’ve ever seen and your mouth waters. 

You give yourself a tiny pinch just to make sure you aren’t dreaming, but it stings. This is real. This is happening. 

The kitchen door swings open and you’re immediately almost knocked to the ground by three waitresses bustling out of the kitchen, carrying steaming bowls of pasta and platters of meat and towers of croquembouche. You jump out of the way, muttering a quick “Sorry” before carefully entering and staying close to the wall as you look around for Agatha. 

It doesn’t take you long to see her, or rather, hear her. 

“Are you incompetent?” Her voice rings out over the clambering of pots and pans and line cooks shouting to each other and you see Agatha Harkness on the other side of the kitchen glowering over a cowering man, a waiter by the way he’s dressed. Her white uniform is form-fitting and her dark hair is neatly tucked in a bun under her chef toque, her blue eyes filled with a dangerous heat. She’s wearing little gold hoop earrings and her lips are painted slightly pink.

The man standing in front of her visibly trembles. Fear twists in your stomach even though you’re not the one in trouble. What did he do? “Chef Harkness, I’m sorry,” he stammers but she slams her hand down on the countertop to shut him up. 

“Oh, you’re sorry?” She scoffs and holds up a fork. The man gulps. “What kind of fork is this?” 

“A salad fork,” he answers immediately. 

Agatha drops the fork and it clangs on the floor. “So then why,” she hisses, leaning in closer, and you can feel the fear radiating off the man, “did you put it on the right side of the dinner fork in the corner booth? Did you forget that salad forks go on the left?” 

He shakes his head furiously. “It was a mistake, I’m sorry!” 

“I don’t have time for mistakes. Get out of my kitchen. You’re fired,” she barks and your jaw drops. 

What have you gotten yourself into? You didn’t realize how ruthless Agatha was going to be. What if you mess up tonight? 

Will she fire you just as quickly? 

The man, to his credit, doesn’t put up a fight. He takes off his name tag vest and hands it to her before stalking out of the kitchen, brushing past you on his way out. No one else has even looked up from what they’re doing. Is this just a standard routine?

You swallow roughly and turn back to Agatha and find, with a jolt, that she’s already looking at you, a throbbing vein prominent in her forehead. 

She beckons you forward, and as if in a trance, you make your way over to her, stopping every now and then to let someone with food slide past you. 

“There she is,” Agatha says when you get to her and she studies you like she’s judging if you know where a salad fork should go. 

You offer a shaky smile. “Hi, Chef Harkness, I just want to say thank you so much for this opportunity and I’m going to do my best with every single meal. I promise I won’t let you down.” 

Agatha snorts and thrusts the fired man’s name tag and vest into your hands. “Easy there, y/n,” and a thrill runs through you at her knowing your name, “Your uniform is in the backroom. Put it on and get to work.” 

Nodding, it becomes clear to you that she doesn’t want to talk anymore, so you rush back and find a double-breasted coat, checkered pants, apron, and toque neatly folded on a bench with your name printed on them. The uniform fits you perfectly which you’re a little surprised about. 

You’re not exactly sure what to do with the fired man’s stuff, so you just leave it there. 

Even though you’re a bit weary from the display you just saw, you can’t help but feel incredibly excited that you’re actually here. You have worked so hard, spent so many hours pouring over recipe books, gotten so many burns on your skin from boiling water, cried over dishes that didn’t turn out well no matter how hard you tried — it finally paid off. 

Emotion rushes through you but you tamp it down with a deep breath. You need to focus. You need to be at the top of your game and show Agatha that you do deserve to be here. 

It starts out easy enough. Roast prime rib au jus. Grilled yellowfin ahi. French onion soup. 

Every so often, Agatha comes over and stands over your shoulder, close enough that you can feel her hot breath on your neck. It gives you goosebumps and you have to remind yourself to keep working. 

“Good girl,” she says into your ear after you put a plate down of lobster bisque and that particularly makes a shiver run through you. 

You find yourself getting a little distracted after that, your eyes following her across the kitchen wherever she goes and hoping that she comes back over to give you some more praise. 

Agatha yells at someone else for using too much salt on a dish, dumping it off the plate into the trash and demanding the cook make a new plate, and you duck your head down when she looks over at you so she doesn’t see you watching. Too late.

You can almost feel her coming over to you, dread filling in your stomach as you wait. Is she going to get mad at you for not minding your own business? Everyone else here has seemed to learn how to. 

Her front brushes against your back. “You seem a little on edge,” she murmurs and your heart skips a beat. “Don’t worry, hon. I won’t punish you — unless you deserve it.” 

It makes your cheeks heat up and your hand shakes just as you’re carefully scooping a teaspoon of garlic salt out of the container. The spoonful drops onto the counter and Agatha chuckles from behind you before reaching around and swiping it onto the floor, effectively getting rid of the mess from your workspace. 

If it was anyone else, would she have gotten mad? Maybe she’s just taking it easy on you because it’s your first day. 

“No harm done,” she remarks and then she’s gone and you let out a deep breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

It’s almost fascinating to watch her work, to watch her sweep through the kitchen and check out everyone’s dishes, sprinkling in some advice and ingredients every now and then. She doesn’t hesitate to make someone redo something because it’s not good enough, but it surprises you that no one complains. If anything, they agree. 

You suppose that’s the sign of a good Head Chef. They make you better. And when you’re blending all the ingredients of butternut squash soup together and Agatha comes over and wraps her arms around you, her hands on top of yours, to show you how to more effectively stir, you really do feel like you’ve learned something. 

“She’s being really nice to you,” one of the other line cooks says while you’re both waiting for new orders to come in. 

You shrug. “It’s my first day. Guess she’s just showing me the ropes.” The cook doesn’t look convinced, but there’s no time to think about it as you have to start making stuffed gnocchi. 

The next few hours pass quickly. You barely have a chance to think as you’re running back and forth, grabbing things and throwing them into a pan and making sure they’re perfect. You’ve worked up a sweat and you find a few seconds to wipe the beads from your brow before you’re back to work. 

But as the night stretches on, the orders come in less frequently as the rush dies down and soon you only have about twenty minutes left. Your final dish of the night is a raspberry walnut torte. 

Because it’s almost closing time, about half of the cooks finished their shifts a while ago so it’s an intimate setting, just you, Agatha, and four others, everyone quietly moving around and trying to finish up the food they have left. You are absolutely exhausted and you cannot wait to go back to your apartment. 

You’ve just finished your dessert and placed it on the rack at the window, finally feeling like you can relax. 

And then Agatha’s voice cuts through the relative silence. “Who just made this torte?”

Your stomach drops and you sheepishly raise your hand. What did you do wrong?

She grabs a fork and pokes the slice and the center sinks down almost in slow motion. Fuck. “What temperature did you cook it at?” She asks and you think you could just combust with embarrassment on the spot. 

“Three-sixty,” you rasp, and the moment you say it out loud, you realize your mistake. Tortes should be cooked at three-hundred and fifty degrees, and if they’re cooked too hot, the outside of it cooks faster than the inside. 

Leading to a cracked or sunken torte. 

“Chef, I’m sorry, it was a mistake,” you plead, panic and terror spiking through your blood. You were doing so good — now she was certainly going to fire you. 

Agatha sighs, closes her eyes, and pinches her nose like she’s trying to decide what to do with you. When she opens them, the steely blue frightens you. “Make another one,” she says. 

Your mouth drops open. “But it won’t be done in time,” you protest and she smirks. 

“I know. I’m going to go out there and tell them that there was a mishap and that we won’t be able to get them their raspberry walnut torte that they were so looking forward to,” she says and it makes you feel even worse. “It won’t be pretty. You’ve just lost yourself and your fellow line cooks their tip. So the least you could do is show me that you do in fact know how to make a torte and that I shouldn’t fire you on the spot right now.” 

She storms out of the kitchen and you make a tremendous effort to not look at any of the other cooks while you go back to your station and pull out the ingredients to make it again. 

By the time Agatha comes back into the kitchen, it’s time for everyone else to go home. Shame burns your cheeks as they leave without saying goodbye to you and Agatha quietly sits on a stool and watches you work to finish the torte. 

When you pull it out of the freezer where it’s been cooling for a few minutes, you feel like you could pass out on the kitchen floor right there. 

Agatha pokes it with a fork again and you almost sob with relief when it doesn’t crack or sink. But it’s not over yet. 

She takes her first bite and chews thoughtfully like she’s tasting for every single ingredient. “Adequate,” she says after she swallows. “But you’re still fired.” 

“What?” You gasp, your heart skipping a beat. “No, please, Chef, it was an accident, I can make it, look!” 

Agatha puts her fork down. “You fixed it this time. But how can I be sure it won’t happen again?” 

“I promise, please — I’ll do anything,” you say desperately. “I’ll be careful, I won’t mess up again!” 

Her perfectly shaped eyebrow raises and a slow smirk spreads over face. “Anything?” She asks. 

You nod earnestly. “Anything!” 

Agatha stands up so quickly it makes you step back from where you’ve been standing next to her. She cups your cheek and then slides her hand down to tap under your chin. “How about…” she muses, eyes looking you up and down. She looks hungry. “I give you ten spanks.” 

“What?” Did you hear her wrong? Is she joking? She doesn’t look like she is. 

“One spank for each degree hotter you cooked the torte at. It’s the only way you’ll learn,” she explains like it’s the most logical thing in the world. “Bend over on the counter.” 

Despite the sheer insanity at it, a heat rushes through your body. You wanted her attention earlier, didn’t you? 

Seems like you have it now. 

So you try to slow your racing heart and obey. Your forearms rest on the cool metal from where you pushed your sleeves up to work earlier and your head slightly hangs downward, waiting. There’s a little voice in the back of your head that says this is wrong, but you shut it down. You can’t get fired. 

She unties the apron and lets it fall to the floor at your feet and you let out a small gasp. 

“I’m a little disappointed in you, to be honest, hon,” she says as she pushes up your coat. It tears at your heart a little. “But I know that you’re going to make up for it. You’re about to take your punishment like a good girl and show me that you’re really committed to being here. Isn’t that right?” 

You nod and try to ignore the burning in your stomach. What is she doing to you? “Yes, Chef,” you answer hoarsely and let out a little whimper when she yanks down your pants. You curse yourself for deciding to wear a purple thong. “What—” 

“Shh,” she says and rubs your now-bare ass. You hate that you can feel your underwear sticking to you. Can she see it? “Count for me.” 

And then she spanks you and it makes you jump. For some reason, you thought she’d at least ease into it a little, but the impact reverberates through you and makes you gasp. 

“One,” you breathe and she chuckles. 

The next three follow in quick succession, with Agatha waiting only long enough to hear you count. 

After the fifth one, you’re squirming, head resting on your forearms to hide your tears, but the sting has ebbed into pleasure. You’re getting off on this. 

And when Agatha makes a surprised sound and cups your pussy through your underwear, making your hips rock forward instinctively, you know that she knows. Her hand disappears quickly and you let out a little whine. 

“All the best chefs like a little pain,” she remarks conversationally, spanking you again. You gasp out a “six” and she keeps talking. “It’s the only way to get better. To strive for greatness is to accept that it will hurt. I see your potential, I see how good you can be. Just keep working with me, honey, and I’ll get you there.” 

She spanks you again but you can hardly feel it with the fuzziness that has crept into your mind at her words. Agatha Harkness, the best chef in the world, believes in you. 

“Seven,” you remember to say after a moment and she tuts in your ear. 

Agatha soothes the red skin and you relax for a moment before she slaps your ass again. “You’re doing so well for well, honey. Keep going to these lengths to impress me and rectify your mistakes and you could be my sous-chef in no time.” 

The promise makes your head spin. “Eight,” you count when she slaps you again. 

“Such a good girl,” she coos and you are aching. You need her to touch you more than anything. 

Never in a million years did you imagine your first day would look like this. 

She spanks you again. “Nine,” you croak, the feeling spreading throughout your body almost unbearable. 

“Last one. And then I think you deserve a reward,” she purrs and slaps both your asscheeks at the same time, making you yelp. 

Agatha gives you a moment to recover before pulling you up by your coat collar and turning you around and you gasp at how flushed she is. Her cheeks have a red tint to them, her bottom lip swollen — she must’ve been biting it — and her eyes have a heat that you saw earlier, when she fired the waiter. 

But this is a different heat. 

You’re sure you look the exact same. 

She steps even closer to you and slides a hand into your underwear, making your jaw drop. 

“God, you’re wet,” she taunts and you can’t even argue. She wastes no time shoving a finger into you and rubbing at your clit with her thumb and your arms wind around her shoulders for leverage.

“So I’m not fired?” You ask, and obviously there were a million other times that would’ve been better for that question, but it seems fitting. 

Agatha laughs breathless and fits a second finger into you, making you moan. “You’re not fired, honey. We’re going to do great things together. Knew it the moment I saw you.” She curls her fingers roughly and you keen, tightening your grip around her. Your walls spasm around her and try to draw her in. 

Her fingers feel absolutely delicious inside you, filling you just the way you needed to, and you can already feel the tension building in your lower stomach. The spanking got you close, her praise got you closer, and now the great hands of Chef Agatha Harkness are going to finish you off. 

Your head falls back when she scissors her fingers, stretching you out and you hiss at the burn, and she chuckles while she takes in your thoroughly ruined state. 

“What temperature do you cook a torte at?” She asks and you almost don’t hear it over the wet sounds coming from your pussy every time she thrusts inside you. 

It takes you a moment to answer, but when you at last moan out “Three-fifty,” she smirks and bends down to nip at your neck over your collar. You tilt your head to the side to give her more access and she takes it all. She flicks her tongue against your clavicle and sucks, pulling another moan from your mouth. 

You’re so close, the pleasure almost overwhelming, and your breathing has gotten faster, your heart rate through the roof. 

The kitchen has been where you’ve felt most alive your whole life, nothing better than creating something from scratch and carefully curating it to make it into something new — is that what Agatha is doing with you? She plucked you out of your classmates from culinary school, gave a freshly graduated chef a job at her high end restaurant, turned up the heat, and is promising that under her, you’ll turn into a great chef. 

Agatha twists her fingers and you moan, babbling something incoherently, and she rubs your clit harder. 

“Cum for me,” she growls into your ear and thrusts her fingers inside you as far as they can go and you do — a whine falling from your lips as your pussy walls clench uncontrollably around her, tension exploding through your body. 

She keeps fucking you through your orgasm and doesn’t stop until your breathing has evened out and you start to squirm away because of how sensitive you’ve become. And yet, you still whine when she pulls her fingers out of you. 

Agatha lifts her fingers to her mouth and sucks on them, holding eye contact and moaning like she’s a world-class chef and you’re still the best thing she’s ever tasted. 

You awkwardly adjust your underwear, pull up your pants, and clear your throat. Should you thank her for the fact that you still have a job? Or that she just fingered you in her restaurant? 

“Well, guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Agatha says before you try to break the silence. “You’re not going to make any more mistakes?” Her tone is teasing — you smile and shake your head.

“No, I promise.” Your voice is still a little raspy and it makes her smirk.

She grabs her purse and wraps an arm around your shoulders to lead you out of the kitchen and to the entrance of the restaurant. Her head tilts down and her forehead presses against your temple. “Good, cause I’d hate to have to punish you again.” Except Agatha doesn’t sound like she means that at all and it sears through you. 

At least it seems like you have a little bit of job security, even though you don’t want to mess up any more. You’re going to prove to Agatha that you do deserve this job, that you can be as good of a chef as she thinks you can be. 

She stops at the bottom of the stairs at the entrance and takes her arm around you, immediately missing the warmth it brought you. 

“Good first day, honey,” she says with a wink and it makes your cheeks heat up. 

And then she’s walking away and you stumble to your car while trying to figure out what the hell you just got yourself into. 

[artyandink]

UNCONSCIOUSLY SEXUAL.ᐟREADER, where you didn’t even know that most of the things you said, wore or did were kind of/very provocative. you were just… sweet, a total darling to the adults, which was why MARTHA and JONATHAN lent CLARK to help you when your house had been burgled and your parents were abroad, so they couldn’t help. Of course. your pretty little head didn’t know how a boy in your year who you’d been friends with since childhood, but you were happy to spend time with the all-american, thirsted over farm boy. He was just pretty (your brain knew better, he was hot as high hell. to the point where your panties got damp to the thought of his biceps).

CLARK was in a similar boat— he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last— he wasn’t sweating bullets because of the heat, he was sweating due to the face that your pretty lips — shit, he hadn’t even thought that way about you before — were wrapped around your thumb after a sweet glass of lemonade, in a low-necked tank, high-cut shorts, and he was so sure that he could’ve seen baby pink lace peeking out from the waistband.

Whatever it was, it was killing him fast.

Plus, he knew those panties matched a nice lil’ bra in your room that he’d unintentionally seen when up there dropping off notes— just another thing that made his mind run circles. Like, c’mon, he knew for sure that his mom and dad taught him better than to think that way about girls who didn’t even mean to do it, his brain wired itself to think that way. Now that he mentioned it, that sounded like a really bad excuse, he just felt guilty for objectifying you.

It wasn’t just the provocative actions like bending over or accidentally saying things that sounded like they alluded to sex.

it was your big eyes. your pouty lips. your perfect legs and the swing of your perfect hips when you walked. how you were so innocent and didn’t have the foggiest clue what some guys wanted to do to your gorgeous body. your ass in the pretty skirts and shorts you liked to wear. the bows on all your clothes. How you tilted your head when you didn’t know something. The bat of your eyelashes when pleading for someone to do something for you— it almost always forced a hand.

CLARK had to remind himself to stay calm. composed. a friend—

“Clark, mmh,” oh, fuck, the pretty moan that slipped from your parted lips as your soaking pussy glided up and down his cock was intoxicating, CLARK’S head tipping back against the sofa cushions at the sound, hand smoothing up your hip, to your waist and back down over your ass and thigh. his other hand trapped your little pink panties in a tight fist, his mind subconsciously making a decision to keep it so he could use it as a poor substitute for this tight cunt, dear Lord.

He was probably going to hell for using the Lord’s name in this context.

“That’s me,” He nodded, voice cracking right before a whimper, an honest to God whimper left his mouth upon feeling your pussy clench around him and seeing how your cheeks were flushed, pretty lips in a perfect ‘o’ and how your gorgeous tits moved up and down in that tank top. Up and down, up and down— he was going to get hypnotised.

CLARK didn’t even know how he got here— his foggy memory recalling something like getting you straddling his thighs, slipping his fingers between your legs to find your perfect panties already soaked— if that’s what he did to you, who knew what else you’d do for him?

His jaw clenched, feeling rooted to the spot as his fingers dug into your ass— but it wasn’t even him moving you, you were doing it all on your own, being such a big girl and bouncing on his cock yourself, with small little whimpers every time he filled you to the brim. You were moaning about how he was “s’big” and how you were “s’full”, eyes rolled back with your fingers digging into his back and along his hair.

His head lolled forward, only to have his eyes zero in on how your pussy sucked in his cock to pair with his super hearing overwhelming him with the wet sounds and your little moans and babbling murmurs hit his ears like a freight train. He didn’t help his case, he’d begun to jerk his hips up only slightly— but to you that felt like a rough thrust that had you crying out his name. Perks of having superhuman strength, huh?

And superhuman sensitivity, any longer and he’d be in the same state as you.

“S’tight, don’t— don’tcha stop—”

Oh, too late. Guess it’s not your fault that you’re UNCONSCIOUSLY SEXUAL.

special tags 4 my clark moots: @faiszt, @blackynsupremacy, @angelbabyyy99, @svnriseblvdd if there’s anyone I forgot I apologise profusely also @cherrygirlfriend I told u about this so here’s my vision

had to do a new line to include the lovely @sabrinasopposite

[ego13]

LOVE TALK ── yu jimin.

── finding yourself alone in paris, having found a beautiful stranger in a club who didn’t understand your language, you don’t mind hanging out with her in her car.

now playing: wayv - love talk (english ver.)

warnings, sensitive content: sex with stranger, sex in public places, marking, cunnilingus (reader recieving), dry humping, abs riding, fingering (reader recieving), hair pulling, praise kink, pet names (chéri, bonne fille, baby), making out, nipple play, spanking, cursing, cheating.

word count: 2,8k

I can hear it callin'

Loving the way you wanna talk

Touch me, tease me, feel me up

Callin'

Something in the way you wanna talk

you're finally fed up with all this, you were finally fed up with all this, all the fights with your boyfriend were going too far, because you were fed up with his baseless jealousy, lack of confidence in yourself, in you and, most importantly, in your relationship.

after another fight you sat on the floor in tears, packing your things into your backpack, while he indifferently continued playing his console, saying something to his friends on the phone, but you didn't listen to all of this, because the only thing you wanted was for it all to finally end, and for you to finally become free from him and from your relationship that was so restricting you. throwing your backpack over your shoulder, clumsily wiping the tears from your face, rubbing your makeup with your palm, you ran out of the apartment, loudly slamming the door behind you, making it clear that you're not going to look back, you're not going to ask for forgiveness and hope to make things right, you've had enough.

sitting with your friend where you were staying until you found yourself an apartment, she listened attentively to your story about what happened, shaking her head in surprise, she knew that not everything was so good in your relationship, but not to this extent...

"fuck, I told you a hundred times that he's a complete asshole!" she exclaimed, sitting closer to you, hugging you weakly, realizing that you are now in a vulnerable state, and you incredibly need support. she stroked your hair, listening to your sobs, which broke her heart, because the last thing she wanted was to see her friend like this.

"listen, you urgently need to get distracted," she said, her words made you raise your head, looking at her in surprise, because what could distract you in such a situation? "my friends are having a party in paris and you have to come."

these words threw you off track, what paris? you just broke up with your boyfriend and problems piled up on you, not allowing you to raise your head, and then she suddenly offers you to go to another country for the sake of some party? you were about to refuse, but she put her finger on your mouth, as if showing that you should keep quiet.

"keep quiet! no refusals accepted, pack your things."

to say that going to another country without knowing the language is stupid is to say nothing, because you really didn't understand a word of french, unlike your friend, who kindly translated everything for you, so at first it didn't seem like a big problem.

you stood in front of the mirror, trying on dress after dress, hoping to choose the best one, after all, it wasn't for nothing that you traveled several thousand kilometers for some party. your friend silently watched you preen, having already been dressed for a long time, waiting for you with a displeased expression.

"come on, it's been almost half an hour, we're already late! put on something already and let's go." she said discontentedly, folding her arms across her chest, which made you giggle just from the sight of her, playfully rolling your eyes and putting your makeup in her purse. finally being ready you both left the apartment, walking along the night streets of paris, heading to some club that your friend had managed to buzz your ears about over the past few days.

you got there pretty quickly, passing face control at the entrance with the same ease, finally opening the door to the club, at the same moment hearing loud music that made you shudder slightly. seeing your confusion, your friend took you by the hand, leading you to the bar counter, where there were already several people standing, looking at you with interest.

"bonjour!" one of them exclaimed, waving at you with a bright smile, your friend smiled back, hugging everyone sitting at the bar while you stood shyly to the side, realizing this, she took your hand again, moving it closer to her so that you were not standing far away.

"rencontre-moi, c'est mon amie," - meet her, shes my friend, she said, to which her friends immediately smiled, greeting you in french, but not understanding a word, you only nodded respectfully, smiling back.

it was about about an hour passed, you were all drinking, despite the fact that you couldn’t join in the conversation, because you simply didn’t understand what they were talking about. finally, the girl sitting next to you noticed your discomfort, putting her hand on your shoulder.

"chérie, ce qui s'est passé?" - darling, what happened? she asked in a worried voice, but once again, not understanding anything, you simply nodded, but her hand on your shoulder made you feel a little better, finally laying your head on her shoulder.

Falling for a stranger

Good gracious

I might even fly out to Vegas

noticing this, jimin chuckled, saying nothing, just continuing to drink the wine from her glass, chatting with the other people sitting next to her. "she has such beautiful french," you thought, realizing that you barely heard the people around you, listening only to her well-delivered speech.

the more alcohol entered your body with her, the more confident and relaxed your touches became. first her hand "accidentally" slid from your shoulder to your waist, then you just as "accidentally" touched the skin of her neck with your lips, making her sigh heavily, her eyes immediately looked at you, squeezing your waist tighter, to which you only smirked contentedly.

when your friends went to the dance floor, you both realized it was time for action, so she grabbed your hand, leading you through the drunken crowd on the dance floor, leaving the club. you immediately felt a cool spring wind blowing on your face, but her hand in yours warmed you.

you walked to the parking lot and at that very moment you saw a black supra, making your jaw drop, clearly not expecting a girl like her to have a car like that. her hand opened the passenger door, pushing you inside, climbing in after you, finally ending up with you in the passenger seat.

you immediately felt warm hands on your hips, which sat you down on her lap, causing you to instinctively place your palms on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. she tightened her embrace, one hand sliding down to possessively grope your ass while the other tangled in your locks.

"j'ai attendu ce moment toute la nuit," - I've been waiting for this moment all night, she growled into your ear, making you break into goosebumps, with that words, she crashed her lips against yours in a brutal, claiming kiss, kiss that stole the breath from the your lungs, her tongue pushed past your lips, invading, conquering, pushing it into your mouth, making you moan lowly. she was already imagining all the ways she wanted to take you right here, right now, but she knew she had to be patient.

вhe could feel the your breath, hot and heavy with anticipation, washing over her sensitive skin. yu's hands slid down to grip your slim waist, feeling the heat of your body through the thin your dress, she slid her hands up under the fabric, caressing the smooth, toned skin of her back, as could feel the goosebumps rising on your flesh as she touched you.

pulling away from the kiss, your hands lifted her shirt, revealing her well-defined abs, making you hold your breath, biting your lower lip and raising your gaze to karina, silently asking for permission.

"faites ce que vous voulez, chéri," - do whatever you want, darling, she said nodding approvingly, giving you free rein, which made you smirk, lifting the bottom of your dress, seeing this, she helped you take it off over your head, throwing it on the driver's seat, because now you won't need clothes, your underwear flew after your dress, leaving you completely naked before her hungry gaze.

she swore quietly, feeling your palm slide along her abs, causing her to break out in goosebumps, at the same moment feeling contact with your hot, wet skin of your groin, forcing her to lean her head back against the seat, placing her hands on your hips. she tightened her grip, nails digging into your soft flesh as she guided your movements.

at the same time she slid one hand up your side, tracing the curve of your breast, before roughly palming the soft mound, thumb brushed over your hardened nipple, teasing the sensitive bud, her other hand slid down to grope your ass, fingers sinking into the plump cheek, giving you a soft smack, what made you squeal, placing your hands on her shoulders.

her fingers sank into the flesh of your ass, gripping you tightly as she guided your increasingly desperate movements, she rolled her hips up to meet yours, abs rippling beneath you, her defined muscles providing the perfect and needed friction against your sensitive folds, jimin could feel how your slick arousal coating her skin, your needy whimpers music to her ears, making her feel an unpleasant wetness between her own legs, but she knew that she had to take care of you first.

she could feel your body trembling, could see your chest heaving with each desperate breath, seing how you lose yourself in pleasure, using her body for your own needs, was intoxicating, making it even harder to bear. she leaned up, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth swallowing all of your moans as her hands slid around to grip your ass, spreading your cheeks apart as she ground your core harder against her abs.

"tu es belle comme ça" - you look so beautiful like this, she whispered close to your lips before leaning back against the seat, watching with a smirk as you managed to cope on your own. she could tell you were getting close, your body tensing and trembling with impending release, she shuddered as she felt your hips moving with increasing desperation, your whimpers growing louder and more needy.

she slid one hand around to your wetness, fingers teasing through your soaked folds, feeling the slick arousal coating her digits, she let out a soft moan from that feeling, smirking as she watches you finally shudder at the peak of your climax.

"c'est ma bonne fille," - thats my good girl, she said with a smile, combing a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, she leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, she broke the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive flesh as she panted harshly against your skin, you felt her weave her fingers into your hair, forcing you to throw your head back, giving herself more space on your sensitive skin, which at that very moment was covered with red spots from her teeth.

at the same moment she switched places with you, turning to turn off the lights in the car, moving the passenger seat to give herself more room to fit between your legs. she trailed kisses down your calves, unfastening your shoes at the same time, throwing your legs over her shoulders. the sensation of that soft, wet muscle of her tongue sliding along your slick folds sent a jolt of electricity through your body, making you back arch off the seat, your hands instantly wove into her hair, lightly pulling at the roots, causing her to let out a low moan.

your juices flowed freely, coating her lips and chin, which she didn't mind at all, squeezing your hips tighter, encouraging the way you desperately pushed towards her tongue. the musky, intoxicating scent of your sweet arousal filled the car, mingling with the faint traces of her perfume. it was damn hot in the car, the windows were already fogged up, blocking your view of the people you saw in the parking lot, but right now you didn't care about them, and you didn't care if anyone heard you or not.

your other hand slid to palm her aching for attention breast, kneading the soft mound and pinching her nipple through the thin silk of your black bra, you could feel the stiff peak of you nipple straining against the fabric, begging for more stimulation that only yu could give you.

the idyll was interrupted by the sound of a phone call, fuck, that's the last thing you need right now, who thought of calling at the moment when such a beautiful girl is between your legs fucking you with her tongue in her car? through your hazy vision you saw your friend's name on the display which made you curse under your breath, biting your bottom lip as you wondered whether or not to answer.

and yet you pressed the button to accept the call, afraid that it might raise an alarm because you had disappeared from the club so suddenly.

"hey, where have you disappeared to, are you okay?" she said in a slightly drunk but still worried voice as loud music played in the background.

"i-im fine..." you said with a trembling voice, trying your best to hold back your whining, and jimin was even more turned on by your situation, which is why she didn't even plan to stop, approaching the matter more diligently, your clit throbbed, swollen and sensitive, as her clever tongue flicked and circled the sensitive bud. your head fell back against the headrest, her eyes squeezing shut as she lost herself in the exquisite pleasure, your chest heaved with each ragged breath.

"are you sure you're okay? your voice is shaking, you disappeared so suddenly... and jimin disappeared too, are you sure everything's okay?" she said, while you were holding back with all your might, breathing heavily into the phone, "everything's fine... jimin and i stepped away for a while, i felt bad and she's just... looking after me, we'll be there soon," you said, at the same moment with these words you dropped the call, throwing the phone aside, finally allowing a loud groan to escape your lips.

your thighs trembled, the muscles flexing as you struggled to keep them spread wide, which she certainly took care of, because her strong grip prevented you from bringing your legs together, your grip on her hair tightened, holding her in place as you ground her hips more insistently, desperately fucking her face, the wet, obscene sounds of jimin's slurping and suckling filled the car, mixing with your increasingly loud moans and cries of pleasure.

you could feel the heat of her breath on your skin, could smell the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the headier aroma of your own arousal. It was intoxicating, overwhelming. your climax building fast, the coil of heat in your core winding tighter and tighter with each pass of her wicked tongue, your thighs trembled, the muscles clenching as she teetered on the brink of ecstasy, you was so close, so fucking close, and she needed jimin, needed her to make her push her to the edge, to be that one.

your pussy clenched, the walls fluttering around her tongue, trying to draw it in deeper, you cried out, voice echoing in the enclosed space of the car, with a keening moan, you finally came undone, your body convulsing as her orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, your eyes rolled back, head thrown back against the seat as your rode out the aftershocks of her climax, and she with her kitten licks continued to assault on your clit, prolonging your orgasm, overstimulating you.

finally rising, she pulled you into a kiss again, pulling your lower lip, not allowing you to recover from your previous orgasm, her thumb rubbed tight circles around your aching clit, the pleasure bordering on pain, at the same moment, two fingers sliding inside you, fingers plunging in and out of her clenching heat at a brutal pace, she curled her fingers just so, brushing against that spongey spot deep inside that made you see stars.

as she fucked you harder, faster, spurred on by the desperate sounds spilling from your lips. her thumb rubbed your clit hard as she plunged her fingers into that slick, gripping heat over and over, she could feel your release surging through you, the tension snapping as you threw your head back with a guttural moan.

"allez, donne-le moi, baby," - come on give it to me, baby, she growled, pushing deeper, the obscene sound of her fingers slamming into your wet heat filled the room, punctuated by your desperate moans, you could feel your climax building, your cunt starting to flutter and tighten around her digits, your chest heaved with each ragged breath, skin flushed and damp with exertion. she could feel your pussy starting to spasm, gripping her plunging fingers like a vice, she fucked you with short, sharp jabs as you grind your clit against her palm as you teetered on the brink, your pussy clamped down, rippling and gushing around her fingers as you came hard, drenching her hand and the seet beneath you.

pulling her fingers out of you, she climbed back onto the seat, sitting you on her lap and soothingly stroking your back, leaving a light kiss on your temple.

"chérie, c'est drôle, je n'ai même pas pu te demander ton nom." darling, that's funny, i didn't even get to ask your name.

Baby we two distant strangers

I know you don't speak my language

But I love the way she's talking to me.