#v; slipping between the cracks

[sceletaflores]

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. “Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

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mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

[luvsupa]

TRICK-WHORE-TREAT!

summary: do NOT fuck summon the insanely hot curse, sukuna.

tags: trueform!sukuna x fem!reader, modern day, pwp, smut (p in v), ōral sex (f!recieving), food (candy) play, sukuna has two dicks, he’s a bully, petnames, dumbification, etc. mdni.

w.c: 2.7k

a/n: HAPPY HALLOWEEN GUYS 🧡🧡 IM SOO HAPPY THAT YOU ALL HAVE BEEN FOLLOWING W MY KINKTOBEER MWAAA!!! lowkey sad it’s done but ENJOYYY 🧡

kinktober masterlist

“the hell’s that?” you ask, stepping into the livingroom after finishing up your nightly skincare routine. tonight, it’s just you and your friends mina and sage, skipping every halloween party to hang out together . you’ve all stocked up on snacks and horror games to keep yourselves entertained.

“no clue, got it off some marketplace—thing was dirt cheap,” sage shrugs, holding up an ancient, dusty book that looks like it’s been around since the dawn of time. you step closer as sage hands over the grimy thing, flipping the first page and frowning at the unreadable text.

“this is the dumbest shit ever, we can’t even read it,” you mutter, slamming the book shut as dust fills the air, making you gag. but something about it still piques your interest, so mina does a quick search and manages to decode some of the ancient alphabet, translating the words:

RYOMEN SUKUNA, KING OF CURSES.

SEALED AWAY BY: GOJO CLAN.

DO NOT SUMMON.

you nearly lose it at the dramatic warning. a king of curses sealed up in a ten-dollar marketplace relic? yeah, super scary.

“so, this is like…a bootleg ouija board?” mina asks, clutching your cat, coco, for comfort. you drop the book onto the coffee table with a snort as you and sage crack it open again, flipping through each creaking page. mina pulls your cat tighter as it hisses, clearly over her nerves. as you dig through the pages, you find some ridiculous official chant,

“ryomen sukuna, king of curses, awaken now. break from the seal, emerge from the night.”

you and sage recite it over and over, while mina shuts her eyes like you’re actually summoning something worth fearing.

“lame ass book,” you scoff, tossing it behind you, where it lands with a dull thud on the carpet. after that, you grab the other games you brought for the night, and the three of you dive into a marathon of competitive chaos, yelling and laughing until your voices are hoarse. hours slip by, and between the endless rounds and maybe a bit too much snacking, exhaustion starts to sink in.

“gooood nighttt,” you all mumble sleepily as you collapse, deciding to let mina and sage take the bed while you settle onto the makeshift floor bed. you don’t mind the floor—anything for them.

soon enough, silence fills the room, but in the dead of night, a sudden blast of wind slips under the door, rattling it hard enough to shake you awake. your eyes blink open, heavy with sleep, as a strange light spills through the door’s cracks. did you really forget to turn the lights off?

you tap your phone and squint at the screen, 3:27 AM. you groan softly, realizing you’ve barely slept an hour before the cool wins wakes you. maybe you left the window open?

rising from your makeshift bed, you glance over at sage and mina, fast asleep, curled up with your stuffed animals. you tiptoe toward the door, gently easing it open. you nearly yelp when coco, your cat, slips past you and pads silently toward the living room, ignoring your whispered calls as you follow her.

you freeze when coco hops up into a lap—a man’s lap.

your gaze slowly travels up the figure sitting casually on your couch. in the dim light, you can’t fully make out his features, but you catch glimpses—dark, muscular limbs, and the glint of red eyes that pierce through the shadows. coco purrs contentedly in his lap, her small body relaxed as he strokes her fur with a disturbingly gentle touch.

“c-coco…?” your voice is barely a whisper, each syllable shaky as dread knots in your stomach. as your eyes adjust, you realize he has…more than two arms. two extra limbs drape over the couch, relaxed and disturbingly still.

“coco?” he chuckles darkly, voice rich and deep, cutting through the silence. “show respect, peasant.”

a chill races down your spine. his voice carries a weight that sinks into your bones, making you want to shrink back. he cradles coco close to his chest, his other hands moving with unnatural grace, almost possessively, as if she were his own.

“such a precious creature…i’ve missed having a pet in my kingdom.” he speaks slowly, each word dragging, drawing you further into his presence. kingdom? a sinking feeling tightens your chest as your eyes flick to the spot where you’d tossed that cheap book…now gone.

you edge toward the light switch, hand shaking as you flip it on. what you see makes your heart plummet.

he sprawls on the couch with a lazy, terrifying ease, two extra arms draped like they belong there, his legs spread wide in dark, traditional robes, your small cat nestled comfortably in one of his enormous hands. as your eyes trail up, you catch the tattoos winding over his skin, tracing ancient patterns that seem to pulse. then you see them—two extra eyes, fixed on you, gleaming with an unearthly red glow.

“s-sukuna?” you breathe, recognition dawning as your mind replays the cursed illustrations from the book. your stomach twists. you’ve summoned him. his head lifts, and his eyes lock onto yours—four intense, ruby orbs that make you feel like prey.

slowly, sukuna rises from the couch, his towering frame unfolding to its full, monstrous height. his head nearly brushes the ceiling, his presence filling the room, suffocating. he steps closer, holding coco in one hand while his other arms hang back, giving him an unnervingly calm stance as he approaches. you’re trembling, pinned in place by the dark weight of his gaze.

“woman, your scent…” his voice lowers, rough and insistent, as he gently places coco on the ground. she slinks off, disappearing into the shadows as his eyes never leave yours. “…it’s clouding my mind.”

a sharp heat flares through you, fear mingling with something darker. without thinking, you press your thighs together, shocked by the rush of sensation that shouldn’t be there, not with this terrifying creature towering over you. you back away slowly, unable to break eye contact, until you feel the wall press against your back.

“tell me,” he purrs, a mocking smirk curling his lips as he steps into your space, trapping you between the wall and the solid, overwhelming force of him. “isn’t it pathetic…getting all worked up for a ‘lame ass’ like me?” he taunts, voice dark and dangerous. you swallow hard, realizing he heard every insult, every careless word about him and that “cheap ass book.”

“not my fault that book was less than ten bucks,” you snap back, defiance flickering up despite the fear pressing down on you. you’re not sure where the courage comes from, but you hold his gaze.

his chuckle is a low, rumbling sound, his red eyes burning into you. your gaze dips down, lingering on the sculpted lines of his abdomen under his robe, catching on the hard outline beneath the fabric.

the sick fucker was turned on too.

he’s probably more turned on than you, and it’s beyond obvious as he has you folded in half on the couch, your legs painfully stretched back, feet nearly reaching past your head. two of his hands pin your thighs down with a grip that feels bruising, while his other two cradle the backs of your inner thighs, spreading you open with no mercy. his tongue, impossibly long and sinfully thick, reaches deep, curling once it finds that sweet spot that makes you cry out. your eyes flutter as you fight to stay conscious, catching a glimpse of his face twisted in raw, desperate need. when one of his eyes meets yours, a spark of dark hunger flickers within his piercing gaze, sending a shiver through your entire body.

your walls clamp around his tongue as he plunges even deeper, hitting places that make your breath hitch. “m-more,” you moan, voice needy and broken, completely lost in him. his lips curl into a smirk against you, and he lets you grind into his mouth, allowing you to lose yourself in the pleasure. without you realizing, sukuna reaches for something on the table—a bottle of thick blue syrup, something new he’s been itching to try on you.

your eyes roll back when you feel the cool syrup drizzle onto your swollen, sensitive folds, and you gasp, watching as the blue liquid glistens against your flushed skin, sliding down to coat every inch. sukuna’s grip tightens, pressing your legs further down, holding you in the filthiest position imaginable. he takes his time, squeezing ever sticky drop from the bottle as it pools on your clit, mixing with your arousal and slowly dripping lower, reaching your entrance. his tongue pulls away just enough for him to admire the mess he’s made, eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the way the syrup clings to your needy, twitching cunt.

then, without warning, his mouth is back on you, his tongue dives in, lapping up the syrup in messy, hungry strokes. the taste of blue raspberry mixes with your own sweetness, driving him wild, and he groans deeply as he sloppily devours you. his lips stain blue, and he doesn’t care; he’s making out with your cunt like he’s starved for it, sucking hard on your clit until your mind spins. you feel the gentle scrape of his fangs against your sensitive skin, and the pressure builds as he tugs and pulls, drawing out every bit of sensation he can, his mouth relentless and filthy as he drives you past the edge.

his grip tightens on your legs, pressing them even further down as he spreads you wider, eyes locked onto the sight in front of him. he lets his tongue swirl over your clit, catching the sticky syrup with sloppy, hungry strokes. “look at you,” he groans between licks. “soaked and covered in candy like my own personal treat.” he chuckles darkly, lips stained blue as he smears the syrup messily around your swollen, twitching folds.

“‘kuna, jus’ fuck me already,” you whine, voice thick with impatience. you’ve never felt this desperate, and your gaze keeps drifting down to the thick bulge pressing against his robe. all four of sukuna’s ruby eyes narrow, and he lets out a low, mocking chuckle, clearly taken aback by your demand.

“you think you can boss me around, huh?” he taunts, his grip tightening on your chin as he taps your lips, silently demanding you open your mouth. the moment you part your lips, he spits a thick wad of saliva right onto your tongue. you swallow it instantly, almost embarrassingly eager. he grins down at you, his expression twisted with amusement, and gives your cheek a few light taps. “so nasty… and here i thought you had some dignity.”

in a swift motion he pulls you into his lap, forcing your thighs to spread over his muscular legs. when did he even take off his pants? you barely have time to process it as you feel the heat radiating from him, and your eyes drop to the bulge under his robe.

“you want it so bad?” he sneers, pushing you back with a rough shove. “prove it. since you think you’re in charge, you’re gonna work for it.” he unties his robe with a calculated slowness, letting it slip open. your eyes widen, breath catching at the sight of not one, but two thick, throbbing cocks, pre-cum dripping from both angry red tips, veins snaking along their length. and on his stomach, a grinning mouth, twisted and sinister, completes the terrifying sight.

“what’s wrong? too much for you?” he laughs, watching as your jaw drops, taking in every inch of him. “thought you wanted to act all big and baaad.” his eyes flash as he jerks his hips up, rubbing his tips against your soaked entrance. “go on then. ride me… let’s see if you can keep up, princess.”

“t-two? are you insane?” you gasp, eyes locked on his monstrous cocks, both thick and throbbing as they twitch under his dark gaze. sukuna just smirks, his hand wrapping around one shaft, tapping the flushed, swollen tip against your clit. each soft thud electrifies you, your body jolting with each contact as you slump against his chest, barely able to hold yourself up.

“c’monnn, where’d all that attitude go?” he sneers, flicking your forehead as a warning. the sting makes you wince, and he’s already impatient, lifting your hips with two large hands, positioning you right over his leaking tip. you can barely breathe as you look down, staring at how massive he is. there’s no way you can take all of him—but he’s clearly planning to fit both.

you cry out as he sinks you down onto his first cock, stretching you open in one brutal thrust. your eyes widen, feeling every thick inch filling you to the brim, your walls straining around him, slick and achy. glancing down, you can see the bulge forming where he’s stuffed so deep inside.

sukuna chuckles lowly, a dark, mocking sound that reverberates through your body as his hands roam your hips, patting your head in a twisted kind of praise. “not so tough now, huh?” he taunts, his voice thick with satisfaction as he watches you struggle to take him. you’re utterly stuffed, thighs trembling, mind swimming, and he’s just getting started.

he groans when he feels your walls flutter around him, clenching tighter as his hands move down to your ass, squeezing the flesh hard enough to leave bruises. you moan brokenly, and he smirks, thrusting up with sharp, brutal snaps of his hips. each thrust sends squelching, messy sounds echoing in the room, your arousal spraying out, slicking his abs and thighs. you’re a mess, head lolling against his shoulder as the filthy noises fill your ears, lewd and obscene.

“thereee we go, brat… ‘m right here,” he drawls, one hand pressing down on the bulge in your lower stomach, making you sob. his thrusts grow rougher, inhuman, skin slapping against skin as the couch creaks under the weight of his assault. every time he drives into you, your juices squelch and spray, drenching both of you in a mix of sweat and slick.

“imagine what your friends would think of you,” he growls, voice thick with lust, “getting fucked like a dirty little slut by a demon.” his words make you whimper, panic flashing in your mind at the thought of being caught. but it only fuels him, watching your pathetic, broken reactions as his cock slams relentlessly against your cervix.

then, you feel something warm and slimy flick over your clit, making your eyes snap open. you look down, horrified and aroused, to see a mouth on his stomach, tongue lapping hungrily at your swollen nub. you sob, grinding your hips down, desperate for any kind of release as his mouth devours your sensitive bud.

his cock throbs as he nears his climax, driven crazy by your whimpers and the way your walls cling to him, squeezing him tighter with every thrust. his pace becomes erratic, desperate, hips snapping up harder and faster, both of you teetering on the edge. “fuckkk,” he groans, voice rough, his brow furrowing as he loses control, thrusting sloppily as he chases his own release.

with one last brutal thrust, he spills hot and thick inside you, his cum flooding your insides, filling you up as you shudder and release with him. your essence sprays out, slicking his stomach and thighs, a messy mix of cum and arousal coating everything. his stomach tongue laps up every bit of you, greedily sucking up the slick mess. your body goes limp, utterly spent, as your head falls to his chest, lulled by the rhythm of his heartbeat and the warm stickiness between your thighs.

without a word, you two stay exactly where you are, not moving an inch as you keep clenching around his shaft. his fingers idly play with your hair, lulling you toward sleep when—

“what the fuck is going on?”

your eyes fly open, and you turn to see your friends standing in the living room, eyes wide and mouths hanging open as they stare at the two of you.

how in the hell are you going to explain this…

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ! ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS PROF GETO — IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part three of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you always had the wrong timing with professor geto -- first you were his student, then his T.A., and now it was the wrong place -- he’s moving to Kyoto. but you had a few weeks together before then -- so can you make them last?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (for real), so much fluff (we've earned it), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, shower sex, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, surprise appearance by someone :)

✧ wc: 12,010 (is anyone surprised?)

✧ other parts: part one | part two | v-day special

Time was the one thing that seemed to always escape you and Suguru — fuck,  timing was never your strong suit to begin with—if your late arrival to Suguru’s first class was any indication. 

You always ended up too early or too late to places, your entire day spent waiting for an appointment in the middle of the day, and your meeting days often mixed up in your head. And now—

Your relationship had an expiration date before it had even started. 

The question you asked when the message from the department head came through hung in the air of his office like a death announcement. And it almost was — the second death of not even the start of what could have been a relationship. 

Suguru’s eyes can’t meet yours, brow furrowed as if he had thought hard enough, he could solve the problem of distance with a simple application of an ethical theory — but unfortunately Socrates nor Plato had invented any solutions for instantaneous travel. 

So the elephant remained. 

“When did you—“ 

“No,” he’s swallowing, his eyes meeting yours again — desperate, but not the desperation you had both felt a moment ago — the desperation felt in the throes of passion — no, this desperation was the one felt when clinging to sand slipping between your fingers, “let’s not talk about this, not right now,” 

“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands slipping around your waist, and each brush of his lips steals away another ounce of sense from you, “we have to talk about—“ 

“I know we do, I know,” he murmurs between kisses, his fingers cupping your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone, “but I don’t want to think any more — I just want to be with you. I just want you,” and his voice breaks ever so slightly, and it cracks any reservations you have — just as this man always did, “but if you want to talk, we can talk right—“ 

And your lips cut off his sentence, only a moment’s pause before he’s melting into your touch again, your hands sliding against his bare chest, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours was — so much so that you wondered if the beating you heard was your own or his. 

“Your place or mine?” and he blinks, as you kiss his jaw, a chuckle on your lips, “unless you’d like to fuck me in your office, I’ll have to admit it’s one of the things I’ve thought about,” 

And god, all the blood in his body must have fled south in a half second with how much he aches for you, “Now who needs to watch their language?” His words are whispered against your neck, as he leans down to press a sweet kiss there, “what other things have you thought about?” His fingers find your chin, tilting your head until your gaze met his again — dark pools of lust stared back — and your thighs would have pressed together, if his knee wasn’t between them, teasingly rubbing against your far too damp panties. 

“Patience, we have time for that,” and his eyes soften ever so slightly, an iota of relief rippling across his features.

“We do?” And it’s a question he needed to ask — had to ask, but that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to — because he knew it could break him. 

“We do,” you pull him into a kiss, your lips sliding against his, “so the question remains, Professor,” you tease, and a shiver runs down his spine, “your place or mine?” 

~~~

You end up at his place — the car ride there was relatively short, but far too long — wringing your hands in your lap, so you wouldn’t touch him. Because you know it would only take one touch — one touch for him to pull to the side of the road and pull you across the console and into his lap. 

But you wanted to do this right — you needed to do this right. You had both waited long enough — you couldn’t hurry, not when you were both about to cross the finish line. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t toe it. And your fingers brush his outer thigh, and his eyes flicker over to you — a silent warning, and you knew you were playing with fire — the same fire that had burned you both time and time again, but this wasn’t his office. And you weren’t to let a goddamn phone stop you from having what you wanted. 

And you wanted him — so bad — and from the way his gaze found yours, tongue flicking across his lips — he wanted you all the same. Your fingers just rested on his thigh, if only to ground yourself — as if touching him was the same as pinching yourself, to remind you that this wasn’t a dream. It was real — this was real. 

It only became more real as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. He got out first, opening the door for you, as he offered you his hand, and helped you out, drawing close, too close for your brain to function — his lips brushing against your ear, “that’s for teasing me in the car,” you barely manage to gape at him, before he’s leading you inside, a palm resting on the small of your back, as you sneak a glance at him — cheeks still burning.

He was so beautiful — in every sense of that word. His dark hair fell in waves, strands slipping from his bun, assuredly from your tryst in his office; his lips were curled in a slight smile, as he pulled his keys from his pockets; and even his hands were gorgeous — they were so much bigger than yours, and his long fingers, lovely veins running across the back of his hands. 

And you’re finally inside his apartment, as he holds the door open for you — the quiet click of the door makes your heart squeeze, his footsteps against the hardwood still when he’s behind you, his arms slowly curling around your waist. His lips ghost your neck, breath warming your skin, “should we talk first?” 

You lean into his touch, your back pressed into his chest, his fingers lightly squeezing your hips, “we should,” and you should, you had to talk about what was going to happen, what this meant, what Kyoto means — but you want to just stay in this moment, you turn to look at him, and your noses brush, “but I don’t want talk right now,” 

And his breath hitches, as your lips brush his, “But we will later?” his voice is barely above a whisper, as if even a word muttered above a whisper could break this moment. 

“I promise we will,” you murmur, your lips curling, as you turn to face him fully, “but let’s not worry about later right now — there’s only one time that’s important, and that’s right now,” 

“Paraphrasing Tolstoy?” He hums, his arms pull you flush to him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already rumpled fabric wrinkling further under your touch, “And what do you plan to do to me right now, Princess?” 

“Oh I have many ideas,” you lean up and brush your lips against the cut of his jaw, delighting in the shiver you draw from him, “so many ideas, Professor — should I write an outline up?” 

“Fuck the outline,” and his lips find yours, his arms curled around you, pressing you flush against him, “I have all I need in my arms right now — I’m sure you’ll give a wonderful oral presentation, now won’t you?” He hums, as his lips part yours a moment, his thumb dragging down your puffy, kiss bitten lips — “I already know you’re an incredible orator,” this fucker knew exactly what to say to make your knees buckle. 

“And I know how good you are with your hands,” you guide them to your hips, “able to tear papers and pantyhose apart,” you teased as a tinge of red appeared across his pretty cheekbones, “I’ll expect a new pair by tomorrow,” 

“Consider it a promise,” and he’s kissing down your neck now, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse jumping under his touch, “but I can’t promise that I won’t do the same thing again,” 

And he’s guiding you to his bedroom, walking backwards, as his teeth nibble at a soft spot of your neck, your fingers finding his jaw to guide him back for another kiss when you pause. 

“What is it?” And you’re reaching into your pocket for something, and then reaching into his as well, as he flinches, fingers far too close to a very sensitive spot, and both of your hands emerge with your phones, turning them off before tossing them onto his couch. And he chuckles, “no risks?” 

“There’s already far too much risk when it comes to us — call it preemptive measures,” and you’re leaning back into a kiss, his lips curled in a smile, “no landlines right?” 

And he laughs, nodding, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up, “Sure you aren’t a utilitarian at heart?” 

“Well, you are certainly the best consequence, now aren’t you?” and he smiles the same smile that doomed you from the start— 

“What a coincidence,” he murmurs, as he pulls you into his bedroom, helping you lie back on his bed, just as he imagined far too many times to be anywhere near ethical, — I was going to say the same about you.” 

~~~ 

“Shouldn’t I be making you feel good first—“ Suguru sucks air through his teeth as your pretty lips press a kiss to his sensitive erection through his tenting boxers, a dark patch of his pre-cum visible on the fabric, “please, sweetheart—“ 

“This is for all the times your email and phone calls blueballed us—“ you smirk, teasing the head with your thumb through the fabric — “and I have to tease you — I mean Professor Geto begging me to suck to him off? Maybe I should make you work for it, write a paper on why you think I should let you cum in my mouth,” and he’s gritting his teeth, cock twitching in his boxers, your words far too effective, “tear it apart until you’re begging for it,” he’s swallowing thickly — and god, he’s so pretty like this, hair splayed out like a halo around his head, cheeks ruddy from his flush, and his chest rising and falling, teeth baring down on his lip, “but I’m much too kind for that,” you’re sliding down his boxers, his cock nearly slapping against his stomach, “and we’ve waited long enough,” 

His cock was even gorgeous — truly what was he? Intelligent, kind, funny — and even his naked body was perfect — his cock was flushed red at the tip, black hair neatly trimmed dotted around it, a slight curve that you knew would feel far too good inside your cunt, and pretty veins you couldn’t wait to memorize— 

You weren’t his favorite student for nothing after all. 

You reach for his cock, smearing the thick beads of pre-cum along his length, kissing the tip, as your fingers slowly gripped the base. He grunts, a sigh leaving his lips, muscles tense as he tries not to rut into your hand and hang on to one iota of self control — and oh, you smirked, you’d do away with that soon enough. 

“You think about me in this room, Suguru?” your fingers slowly start to pump him, his head falling back, “did you touch yourself to the thought of this?” 

“Fuck, Princess—“ your lips curl. 

“Is that a yes?” And you lean down, parting your lips for his length as your tongue traces a teasing trail down his vein, “or a no?” the tip of your tongue lapping at the pre-cum that leaked from his slit, “c’mon, Sugu, not so good to keep your student waiting — maybe I’ll drop the class,” 

“I’ve thought about you — you know I have,” the words leave his lips, any hint of self control lost as his length presses against your cheek when you run a thick stripe with the flat of your tongue up his dick, “wanted to fuck you, taste you, make you scream my name—and,” his gaze softens ever so slightly as his only can in the midst of all this passion, “I wanted to wake up with you, make you breakfast, cuddle you—“ 

And he’s groaning, as you finally wrap your lips around his throbbing cock, tongue swirling around the tip, as his name left his lips in reverence, long fingers finding their way to weave in your hair. Your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. And you know he’s already close by the way his twitching now when his tip nearly brushes against your throat. 

“Sweetheart, stop, I’ll—“ but you don’t oblige him, fingers brushing against his balls, before you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, as you suck and lick at his length, until he’s groaning, “where should I—“ and you suck at his tip in reply, and his head falls back, lips parted in a groan, as he cums hard, swallowing every drop as he paints your throat white with his release. He’s panting and twitching as he comes down from his high — deliciously flushed and messy, as his chest falls up and down as he pants, trying and failing to catch the breath you had stolen from him — sucked from his dick undoubtedly. 

Eyes lidded as he watches you pull yourself from his cock, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his cock, before it drips down your chin, “I may get addicted, Sugu,” and you’re climbing back onto his lap, your lips grazing his still racing pulse, grunting as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, “gonna have my professor’s cock every night at this rate — maybe I’ll suck you off under your desk next time,” your lips brush against his ear, as he gasps, cock twitching against your needy cunt, “how unethical your cock is compared to the rest of you,” and you’re undoing the buttons on his shirt, until it falls open for you, “wonder what other sounds I can draw from you tonight? Shall we learn together—“ 

And he flipped you onto your back on the bed, lips curled in a smile — but a smile laced with lust, eyes raking over your body as he began to strip your shirt off your body, “did you forget, Princess? I’m the professor,” and he leans down to kiss your erect tits through your bra, delighting at your gasp, before sucking lightly at your erect nipple through the fabric, “and I still have so much left to teach you,” 

He is kissing agonizingly slow up your body, first the valley of your breasts, along your collarbone, and the curve of your neck — until his lips finally find yours again. His tongue traces the seam of your lips before being granted access, tasting your own with a moan you swallow all too eagerly. It’s truly not fair for a kiss to be this good — but again, everything about Suguru Geto was.

“What are you going to be teaching me? Kant? Rawls? Aquinas?” You ask between kisses as his fingers sliding behind you to undo your bra, slipping it from your body, his lips parting from yours, a string of spit connecting your lips to his. 

He drags a thumb down your bitten red lips, “No, today's lesson is a bit unorthodox,” and now he’s kissing back down your body this time, tongue dragging over your stomach and belly button, before kissing right above the elastic of your panties. “I’m going to show what I owe you — what I’ve always wanted to owe you—“ a smile playing on his lips, as his legs force your thighs apart, eyes falling onto the wet patch on your underwear with a lust ridden gaze, “and how much I can make you moan my name from it,” 

His fingers begin to ghost up your thighs, before he leans down to ghost all too chaste kisses up your inner thighs, pretty hands holding your flesh still even as it shakes under his attention. 

“Seems like you enjoyed tasting me almost as much as I did,” he teases, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, as his finger teased the drenched fabric, thumb rubbing against your clit, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “no smart remarks now? You always have so much to say,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs, seeing your pretty folds on display for him, glistening with your arousal — your need for him, “don’t tell me all it takes is my face between your thighs to get you to fall quiet,” and his lips curl as your lips pout, only making him chuckle, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure the only thing you know how to say is my name after this,” 

He presses a sweet kiss to your dripping folds, nose brushing against your sweet clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your outer lips teasingly, “thought about this so long, dreamed about this sweet cunt, Princess — tastes and smells better than I ever imagined,” your fingers grasp at the strands of his hair, tugging the hair tie from his messy bun, toes curling into the sheets, “wanna spend all night buried in this pussy,” 

And his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, ghosting over your entrance, before he’s circling your clit again. Moans leave your lips, again and again, lips closing over your clit to suck. Your muscles tense, back arching and your nails digging into his scalp, “barely even started, baby, don’t go cumming just yet,” 

“Sugu, please, more,” you whine, looking down at him, eyelashes nearly fluttering. 

His lips curl, “How can I say no to my favorite student?” And his fingers spread your sweet folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as he gathers your slick on his thick digit, working his way into your tight walls. 

You’re gasping at the way his finger sinks knuckle deep into your tight cunt, your insides wet and warm, “your pussy is as talkative as you are,” the lewd squelch of your walls fills the silence, “maybe even more,” as he begins to fuck you in earnest, “think you need more, don’t you, baby?” And he’s adding another finger, the delicious stretch making your mouth fall open at the intrusion of his fingers. 

You’re bucking against his touch, thighs shaking as you do, his fingers curling against that spot that has you moaning his name, his dick half hard already just from feeling your walls around his fingers. 

You’re so fucking close — the drag of his fingers against your walls, your hips meeting his thrusts, “good girl, you take me so well, can’t wait to sink into you, Princess,” and his lips find your clit again, teeth grazing it teasingly, “s’good for me, baby, you close?” And you’re nodding, walls fluttering around his fingers, and he grunts, “cum for me,” 

And you do, your head falling back onto the pillow, as you cum hard, his name on your lips, as your walls squeeze around his fingers. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, tongue lapping up your release, his lips leaving your clit with a pop. 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers around your sweet cunt. Your eyes flutter open, watching him lick his lips clean, before he meets your gaze, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, “sweetest thing I ever tasted, baby,” 

He’s kissing your thighs, as you come down from your high, teeth grazing the plush flesh of your inner thigh, sucking and pinching, before soothing it with his tongue, “s’good for me,” and he’s slinking back up your body, his hard cock catching on your clit, making both of you groan. 

“Please, Suguru, I need you,” your fingers find the back of his neck, threading through his hair,  and he smirks. 

“Look at my T.A., so needy for her professor,” and your fingers tug at his hair to pull the smirk off his lips, “I’d say you hold all the power in this relationship, Princess,” 

“Do I, now?” Your fingers curl around his length, teasing the leaking head with your thumb making him hiss. 

And his gaze meets you so earnestly, it nearly makes you melt, a gasp leaving his lips as he cups your cheek, “You could ruin my life, and I would thank you for it, if it was you,” 

“Suguru—“ 

“If you were going to use me, I’d tell you to use me. If you needed me, I’d want you to call me,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “and If you didn’t love me, I’d love you anyway,” and he doesn’t let you respond, lips brushing against yours, as he gently moves your hand away, and lines himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, “are you ready?” 

And you’re nodding, a huffed chuckle escaping your lips, “Been ready for far too long — there’s no other electronics around here right?” 

He laughs, “No, just you and me,” molten lava stared back at you, a heat seeping into your skin as he guided himself into your fluttering cunt, inch by inch, as his name leaves your lips in a desperate moan that nearly has him cumming right then and there, not to mention how eagerly your pussy swallows his cock whole, “fuck, such a good fucking girl f’me, baby,” 

He split you open as he sunk into you, pretty walls stretching around him — delicious pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, soft praises whispered in your ears as he did, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “that’s it, baby, look at you, taking me s’well,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, as you bite your lip, “are you okay?” and he finally bottoms out, stilling as your walls clamp around him, a groan leaving his lips, “so tight, so much better than I could have imagined,” 

“Sugu, please, move,” and you didn’t need to say anything more — he starts slow, languid thrusts that drive him deeper into your cunt, his fingers lift your legs up, hooking them around his waist, and you wrap them even tighter, the tip of his cock hitting even fucking deeper, “fuck, Sugu, so deep, so good—” 

“You were made for me, just like this cock was made for you,” he grunts, the lewd squelch of your insides, the slapping of your skin against his, “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl, never wanna leave this cunt,” his vulgar words only made your walls flutter around him, “trying to keep my dick, Princess? Don’t worry, it’s only for you anyway,” he teases, “my pretty girl’s cunt been denied twice — gotta make sure you learn your lesson this time, right?” 

And god you were — you were learning his shape, his length, the slight curve he had, every vein that lined his cock, every inch — and you’d be sure to memorize it. Because he may be reaching you this time — a moan leaving your lips as his cock kissed a particularly deep part of your cunt — but the next lesson, you would be sure to pass with flying colors. 

“S’close, Sugu, fuck, ngh—“ and he’s nodding, his fingers reach and rub your clit in circles, cock hitting that part of your cunt that has you seeing stars as pleasure rips up your body, as you cum. Your toes curl, fingers grasping at him to pull him impossibly close, His eyes flicker open, watching your cunt squeeze around his cock, a white ring of cum around his base, he fucked you through your orgasm. 

His hips begin to stutter, a groan pulled from his lips, “S’good baby, I’m close—where—“ 

“Inside,” and his dick twitch, “cum for me, Suguru,” and he does, notching himself deep inside you, as he spills his seed inside, thick spurts painting you walls, as he moans your name. His thrusts slow, his lips brushing against yours. And you smile up at him, still dazed, his softening cock still inside you, “well that was very unethical,” a giggle escaped your lips, and his lips curled, as he leaned up to kiss you again. 

“And how much more unethical would it be to do it again?” and you hum, as you flip him over onto his back. 

“It’s a sunk cost fallacy at this point, think we can get away with it now,” and your lips find his in a hot kiss, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulls away. 

“A philosopher and an economist?” he chuckles, his lips grazing your jaw now, murmuring, “I learn more about you every day,” 

“I could cite Kant or Butler if you’d prefer—” and he’s grinding his hips under you, a gasp parting your lips, as his cock slides against your soaked cunt, “Sugu—” 

His lips curl in that damn smile, and all words fall away, as he kisses you, “I think I would rather listen to my name leave you lips instead, princess.” 

~~~

RING. RING. RING. 

Fuck. You give a soft groan — a dream again? 

A small sigh parts your lips, as reality washes over you. Eyes fluttering open and shut, as sleep pulls at your eyelids still. Your hands reach over to both sides, but find no one as expected, you sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. It was all soft sheets and shining sunlight — but no Suguru. You kicked your feet up and down, pouting. You thought you were over having those dreams. 

But then….why did it smell like him? 

“What are you doing?” And you snap up, turning quickly, the comforter sliding down slightly and find Suguru standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against his door frame. He looks sinfully good — long hair still thoroughly rumpled from the night before, pretty lips a little kiss bitten red, only a black t-shirt and boxers thrown on, and his obsidian gaze fixed on you. 

“What—what are you doing?” And he raises an eyebrow. 

“Isn’t that obvious? Watching you,” he chuckles, as your cheeks burn, “can you blame me? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases, as you glance down and see that half the blanket had slid down, exposing your bare chest. 

You pull the blanket back on, wrapping it around yourself, “So one night in bed and the ethics fall out the window, huh?” 

“Well, you did a good job defenestrating them, didn’t you?” He chuckles, sipping his coffee, “have to take responsibility for your actions — it is your duty,” 

“Oh, it’s my duty now?” And he’s climbing back into bed beside you, “and what does this duty entail?” And he hums, as your fingers find the fabric of the front of his shirt and tug him close, before sliding up to wrap around his neck. 

“Well, Kant said, it’s not the consequences that matter, but the motives behind the actions,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “so what are your motives?” 

“My motives are…” you consider your words, as you suppress the moan from his teeth grazing his pulse, and you pout, “you’re distracting me,” and he laughs, the lovely vibration against your skin making you shiver, before he draws back, thumb drawing circles on your palm now, “I want to wake up with you, I want to fall asleep beside you, I want to hear about your days and your night — even ones I spend with you, and I’d say my main motivation is to be with you,” your fingers clasps his thumb, before slowly intertwining your fingers with his, “is that a sufficient answer, Professor Geto?” And he’s silent a moment, a sweep of anxiety rushes across your body, fingers grasping at the sheet hidden under the comforter, as you add, “but Kant would also argue that the behavior is not one done of good will since, even if the consequence is good, it’s not done out of respect for the moral law—“ 

And his lips find yours, cutting off your ramble mid sentence, letting each sentence, word, and thought burn under his touch, each brush of his lips and his hands — as one palm cupped your cheek, while the other found purchase on your thigh — erased more of your worries, until he finally parts—

“It’s always good, if it’s you that I have as my consequence,” and he erodes the last of your concerns with his words, as his lips find yours again, “I was going to make you breakfast,” he mutters against your lips, meeting and parting again and again, before he’s easing the blanket from your fingers, gaze darkening as he sees you fully. And he’s easing you onto your back, against the plush pillows and sheets, as he kisses a hot trail down your body, before he finds himself between your legs again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “but I think I may have my meal first.” 

~~~

Suguru would have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t woken first. To wake again in your arms, sunlight filtering through in his bedroom, your arms curled on his front, and your legs entangled, the warmth of your breath heating his skin, and your face tucked into the crook of his neck. 

He had to pinch himself to make sure, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to the same fan he had stared at on many sleepless nights with only thoughts of you plaguing his mind, before his gaze fell back to you — only to find you beside him now. 

There was no more perfect dream than this, but it wasn’t one, as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek gently, and you stirred only for a moment, a whisper on your tongue, “Sugu,” you murmured, lips parted as your nestled further into his chest, and his body burned with want. 

Fuck. He tried to shift his hips away from you — this wasn’t helping his early morning problem — now was it? He really didn’t want a repeat of the hotel bathroom again, but this time, he could take his time — because you both had it. The end of the semester had mostly come and gone — he could wait on grading the papers — if only it meant a few minutes more in bed with you. 

You woke up soon enough after he had left bed, hoping to start on the beginnings of breakfast, but he found himself feasting on another meal instead. 

“Sugu, please, s’close,” what was it about you that tasted so heavenly? He had spent his life pouring over ethical dilemmas and trying to tackle problems of moral truths, but as he brought you over the edge to your second orgasm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have spent his time buried in your cunt instead of books. 

He lapped up your release eagerly, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before running a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, drawing another gasp from you — thighs shaking from pleasure. 

“Sugu, please, enough,” and he eases off, chin and lips still sticky with your cum, as his tongue darted out to clean some of it off, wiping the rest off with his arm, “I want you, please,” 

And fuck, he could cum just hearing those words from your kiss ruined lips, eyes blown out in lust, and your bare chest rising and falling. He drags his cock over your folds again, “need me again, Princess? Last night not enough for you?” he grunts when he watches your walls clench around nothing, as if to tempt his dick to sink into you. 

He bit his lip, it was working. 

Eventually, the two of you lie entangled again, a little stickier than before, your faces half an inch apart, and your fingers tracing his jaw. 

“I wish we could stay here in this bed forever,” you murmur, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingertips, soft kisses pressed to each one, his nose then rubbing against your palm, “no responsibilities, no reality, just us,” 

“Sounds like heaven,” he murmurs, words whispered against your skin, “of course I think any place with you is,” except when he can’t touch you, when he can’t kiss you, when he can’t smile at you without his heart aching — but he doesn’t say that, “we should talk shouldn’t we?” 

“We should,” your eyes meet his, an ache that only made the ache in him grow, “I don’t want to stop you from going to Kyoto,” 

“I would if it was for us, for you,” and your lips curl sadly, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, as if to stop yourself from saying yes, that you’d let him — let him say no, let him keep his old job, let him stay in Tokyo. 

“But that’s exactly why I can’t do that, for you — you said you wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I can’t do that to you too,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his, “I can’t let you put your career on hold for us, I know you’ve wanted this. You must’ve since you applied,” 

“I only applied because I thought we would never—“ he cuts off, lump sitting on his throat, “I don’t want this to end before it’s barely started,” 

“Me either,” you say softly, and his lips brush yours — he didn’t want it to end, not now. Not ever. 

And then he realizes — it doesn’t have to. 

“Then we start there,” he says, as he parts from your lips, words said in the promise of the same breaths you both had just exhaled, “I’m not moving until next semester. We have two months of summer before I’ll be in Kyoto full time, and before you have classes again,” his fingers find yours, intertwining with his, hand engulfing yours, “We’ll live as philosophical presentists,” and you scoff, a smile pulling on your lips. 

“You don’t miss an opportunity to give a lesson, do you?” He gives a wry smile. 

“Take the professor out of the classroom—“ and you snort, “what I mean is let’s live in this moment — we could discuss the future and past all day long — but neither exist right now,” and he rests your palm against his cheek, fingers squeezing your own, “but we do, in this moment right now, so why don’t we savor it?” 

Your lips can’t help but curl into a smile, “How about instead of a drink you make me breakfast?” 

~~~~

Was it possible to get deja vu from an experience you hadn’t had yet? 

You step into Suguru’s shower, a distinct sense of deja vu settling over you as you wash yourself, the marks of the night before (and this morning) still littering your body, as if to remind you that it wasn’t a dream. 

It better not be, as you pinched yourself again, pressing your hands to your still hot cheeks, sticking your head under the water. God, this shower smelt like him, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingering in the bath, even after he had left. He had showered here this morning, after you had laid in for a bit longer, emerged from the master bath with only a towel around his waist, stray water droplets running down his chest, drenched black strands clinging to his skin. He had stood here, and washed himself — lathering his body, hands drawn up and down his muscles, from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach — lower and lower—

You bit your lip, as you pressed your thighs together.

No, no, if you did that and Suguru caught you, he would never let you live it down. You finish your shower, the squeak of the faucet as you shut the water off, before toweling off. You glanced at your clothes hanging on the towel rack outside the shower, rumpled from the night before, reluctant to pull it back on. Instead, you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body, 

You had a better idea. 

~~~

“You have good timing,” Suguru says, smile on his lips, as he folds the omelet, yours he had decided, as with pancakes, his first omelet has not come out as well as this one had, “not late for once,” as he carefully plates the other omelet with some rice as well as miso soup he had made the night before, “I—“ 

And he turns, words fleeing his mind, assuredly taking his several years of education and teaching with it, as all the blood from his brain floods downward. 

You were wearing his button up from last night, the wrinkled fabric draped over your body, falling past your thighs, the buttons mostly done, with a few top buttons unbuttoned far too teasingly — just one more and he could kiss your chest, two and he could— 

Fuck. 

“What?” You blink, chewing on your lip, “sorry I didn’t want to get back on my clothes from last night, so I stole your shirt, and uh,” your gaze shying away, “your boxers,” 

Self control. He had perfect self control — hell, this last year had been an exercise in self control — control from brushing his fingers over your cheek, control from saying anything that pushed the line any further than the two of you had blurred it, control himself from taking you in his office (though he had not controlled himself as more as he was interrupted — twice). 

But it was as if the dam had broken,  the small cracks formed in the concrete now had compromised the integrity of the barrier and had burst the night before, and now — he rounded the counter, his arms reaching for you — there was no putting the water back in the dam after a flood. 

Then again, he was more than happy to get swept away — if it was you. 

“Sugu—ummph,” his name was muffled by the namesake’s own lips, swallowing the rest of his syllables along with your breath. His hands rake down your sides, his large hands slipping under your shirt, finding bare skin underneath. 

“Nothing but my boxers and shirt?” He kisses your jumping pulse, lips lingering on your neck, as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s like you knew what I wanted for breakfast, Princess,” fingers toying with the hem of the boxers you stole, “stealing isn’t very ethical,” 

“Neither is a professor sleeping with a student,” you said between gasps. 

He chuckles, “Well, a fair point, but let me remind you,” his fingers tease the elastic of his boxers you wore, the pads of fingers burning against your skin, as his erection pressed between your ass, drawing a gasp from your lips, “you wanted it,” 

“What’s gotten into you?” you murmur, as his hand dips into your boxers, your head pressed against his body, lips parted, as a ribbon of heat spreads like a fire in dry heat. 

And he knows exactly what’s gotten into him, his clothes on you, the scent of his soap and shampoo on you, and the way your body just melts under his touch—as your eyes drift to meet his own, looking up with lust scrawled across your features. 

“You just look like a dream,” and his body met yours with a practiced ease, as if he had loved you all his life, and not for the first time last night, “one that I’ve had for far too long,” he buried. His face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing careful kisses as if you’d disappear under his touch, “is this real?” 

And he doesn’t know why his breath catches at the question, a question he knows the answer to, because he knows you’re real, your warm skin under his touch, the pulse he felt racing under his lips — but he still worried he’d wake up in any second and you wouldn’t be here. 

You softly chuckle, pinching his arm, “you feel that?” And he nods, and you turn to face him, leaning up to kiss his lip chastely, “did you feel that?” And he’s nodding, eyes fluttering, before you kiss his neck, teeth grazing his soft skin there, a gasp parting his lips, as you lean back, a smirk pulling on your lips,  “and you definitely felt that,” you press your body into his, “this is real, I’m not going anywhere,” and he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “should we have breakfast now?” 

His lips curl, his fingers tilting your chin up, as he leans down to kiss you again, “in a minute.” 

Because now you both had plenty of those. 

~~~

“Where are we going?” 

Suguru laughs, you were sure his laugh was in the top five noises that he made — right between him whispering your name in the mornings  and the way he groaned when you teased him particularly badly. 

His eyes still fixed on the road, flickered to you for a moment while he drove, “The more you ask, the less likely I am to tell you,” and you pout, hiding the smile that creeped on your lips as you crossed your arms. 

After the day you two spent, the next day, Suguru had already made plans to take you on a date — only giving you a day or so to prepare. No instructions except to wear layers to keep a little warm. 

“You weren’t likely to tell me anyway,” he chuckles, as you glance at him again — it still almost feels forbidden as you did — he had opted for contacts rather than glasses, his hair tied in a bun as usual, lips curled in your favorite smile — you didn’t have to steal glances anymore, these glances were yours to have. 

It felt so different from that drive you had taken to the conference — it felt as if you were being suffocated by your feelings, sucking the air you breathed from your lungs as if to stop you from speaking because any word you spoke would only cross that line you couldn’t even toe without drowning. But now, that line wasn’t even blurred, it was gone, washed away by the decision the two of you made — and it couldn’t have been better. 

Because now you could do this. 

Your fingers rest on the gap of the console, before sliding over, and finding his thigh. His eyes slide over to you, “Need something sweetheart?” 

You hum, drawing circles on his thigh, “Wondering if I could convince you to tell me where we’re going with some extra credit?” 

“I don’t remember assigning any extra credit, plus you’re not being graded, but even if you were,” you smile, “you’d have at least a B+,” 

You gasp, “Suguru!” He laughs, even harder when he spots the pout on your lips, “I think I deserve higher than that,” 

He pulls up to a stoplight, fingers finding yours  “well maybe you can change my mind tonight,” 

“Will we ever get there? Or is it a ‘Waiting for Godot’ situation?” He snorts, as he intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting the back of your hand to his lips and holding it there. 

“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting,” and your gaze softens, as he continues to hold your hand as he drives. 

You smile, squeezing his hand, “Good, because I think we both have waited long enough.” 

~~~

“Is the blindfold necessary?” 

“Trust is essential to a relationship,” Suguru replied, his arm around your waist as the other hand held your own, a blindfold tied around your eyes, as he guided you somewhere — the blindfold had come a few minutes before you reached your destination, “don’t you trust me, princess?” 

“Oh I don’t know, it depends on whether you’re planning on murdering me and disposing of my body in the ocean,” and he pauses — you can almost see the furrow of his brow, “you may have blindfolded me but I can still smell,” the scent of sea salt carried by the cool breeze tickled at your nose, even as you still walked on pavement approaching the beach, you could faintly hear the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore. 

“I suppose I should have gotten nose and ear plugs for my far too observant girlfriend,” and the title makes your heart squeeze, as his fingers squeeze your hand, before parting, only to brush against your hair as he undoes the blindfold, “well since it’s spoiled already,” 

The blindfold falls away, sunlight peeking through a moment, as the world comes into view — a beautiful sandy beach with salty waves parting through the shore, so bright as the sun reflects off the sand, making your eyes squint, only for Suguru to place sunglasses carefully on your face, “You came prepared,” your lips curl, as he tucks the blindfold away, and lifts up a picnic basket, “in more than one way,” 

“Well, I thought a picnic on the beach was a nice way to begin today,” and he pulls out a sunhat from his bag as well, placing on top of your head, “don’t worry, I have sunblock as well, in case we need it,” 

“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” and you look up at him, the light glinting off his flint eyes like sparks, “and now what’s my job here?” 

“Enjoy today, take in the view,” and your fingers brush his cheek, somehow warmer than before. 

“Funny, I thought I already was.” 

~~~~

“Are you cold?” Suguru murmurs, when he feels you lean on him, a slight shiver against his chest that runs up your spine, and before you can answer, he’s wrapping a blanket around the two of you. 

“Mr. Philosopher always has all the answers don’t you?” Another breeze has you moving even closer, as his palm moves to lean towards you, arm brushing against your back. 

“Not all the answers,” and he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, as his lips brush against it, “I still don’t know how you became so irresistible,” 

“All the ethics, of course,” and he snorts, as he hums, his hand sliding against your cheek, as his lips press against the soft skin beside your ear, “Sugu—” 

“Hm?” he leans back to listen so intently, noses brushing, and all the words you have slips off your tongue, every thought flies right out of your head, and all that’s left is the feeling of warmth that comes with being this close. 

God, he was unfairly gorgeous — even now, his hair unkempt from the wind as dark locks trickled out of his bun, his  skin painted with a pretty flush, and his warm body pressed against you made any thought of being cold evaporate. 

“Sweetheart? You okay?” he murmurs, fingers drifting over your cheek, a tilt of his head, and pulls you back from your reverie like the waves pulling more sand back into the ocean. 

“I’m okay,” you shake your head, as your fingers rest over his, leaning into his touch, “I just was thinking how perfect this moment was,” 

“And what’s so perfect about it?” 

“You and me, just,” you bite your lip, “I didn’t think it’d happen,” 

“Me either,” he admits, “I don’t ever want to hold you back — I couldn’t stand to be the reason for your unhappiness,” 

“I could never see you as that,” and his lips curl, “promise you’ll never leave me?” 

“Princess—“ 

“Just promise,” you murmur, “even if it isn’t real—“ 

“Who says it isn’t?” His lips brush yours, a heat that swallows your cold, creeping anxieties and burns them to nothing, “I promise, I’ll never leave you,” 

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” 

“Well, call me a Kantian,” he kisses you again, whispering these words against your lips, “because I intend to keep this promise.” 

~~~

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” 

You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at Suguru looking perfectly lost as he stood, watching you, hands crossed if only to stop him from taking over. 

“For the millionth time, no,” you continue stirring the miso soup you were making, as you tenderized the chicken for the chicken katsu, “just keep me company,” you glance at him, biting your lip as your eyes raked over his outfit — a white shirt tucked under a navy pullover tucked into dark jogger pants, “and you’re already providing eye candy,” you teased. 

“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, and you turned back to the task at hand, as you set the meat tenderizer down, to prepare the chicken to be breaded, and his arms curled around your waist, “and what if I want you to use a little more than your eyes?” 

“Suguru, my dinner—“ but he continues, fingers brushing your hair aside, his warm breath turning your blood to molten molasses, “you’re making a habit of interrupting our meals like this.” 

“The only thing I want to eat is in my arms,” he kisses your neck, feeling you shiver, “there’s another philosophy — ‘the customer’s always right?’”

You laugh, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “this isn’t a restaurant, unless I’m charging you at the end of this,” 

“Maybe you should, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” and you hum as he trailed kisses down your neck to your shoulder — he never had a sweet tooth, but you were the only dessert he ever had craved. 

“Knowing you, it would also come with a review written in red pen,” and it’s his turn to laugh now, as you lowered the stove temperature on the soup, before turning to face him. 

He pulls you flush against him, “I’d hope you’d do better than a B+ this time,” and you glare at him, before your lips curl into a smirk, as you dare closer, your chest now pressed against his. 

“This time I will because my annoying prick of a professor is very much able to be persuaded by other methods not available to me at the time,” your lips ghost over his ear, just as your voice used to haunt him in his dreams, “but now, I think he’ll be quite amenable to my work,” 

“Don’t you want to earn your accolades?” and your smile is more wicked than the night itself, as you lean up to meet his own.  

“Oh I will be earning them,” your lips are so close he could feel the words you spoke as you did — every part of your lips, every flick of your tongue — and then he’s met with your fingers dragging flour over his cheek, “after dinner.” 

Suguru gaped at the flour smeared across his cheek, as you turned back around, the click of the burner as you turned it high again, “Was that necessary? You snorted, as you began to season the chicken, as he wiped the offending flour from his cheek. 

“Well, was it necessary to give me a 99 on the final paper?” 

~~~~

“Well, this is just unfair,” you sat in the middle of a cat cafe — arms crossed and biting back a small smile that threatened to bloom across your lips — the cutest one you had found in the heart of Tokyo that you had reluctantly dragged Suguru. 

He wasn’t a fan of cats or dogs, for that matter. 

But now, after paying the admission fee, and ordering your drinks, the two of you sat in an enclosure of cats you were far too eager to meet — and perhaps, they could sense it. 

“Did you break Kantian principles and lie about hating cats or is the universe playing a prank?” you watch as yet another cat approaches your boyfriend, an entire litter already taking up residence on any available real estate on his body, while you had only a single cat in your lap the entire time, as if it was taking pity on you. 

This was no better than when you were a T.A., swarms of students surrounding Suguru, while you were left with barely a soul. Apparently it applied to students and animals, and you felt a small twinge of jealousy — but you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of the cats or him. 

“I don’t hate them, I just don’t particularly want one of my own,” he shrugs, as he scratches the newcomer behind the ear, “but maybe you’ve changed my mind,” 

“I tend to have that influence,” and his lips curl. 

“I have seem to have developed a soft spot for strays,” and you gape at him, as he snorts at your aghast expression, a cat swatting at his bobbing bangs as he shook with laughter, “but you’re my favorite one,” 

“I better be,” you grumble, crossing your arms and pouting, before you watched him pet yet another cat that had made itself at home on your boyfriend’s lap. And you pull out your phone to sneak a few pictures.

“I wanted to ask you something actually,” he says as you glanced up from your phone, he bit his lip, a small hint of nerves apparent in his stiff shoulders and shy gaze, “I’m going to Kyoto next week to look for an apartment for when the semester starts,” and your heart sinks a little at the thought — the summer was half over already, and it was far too quick for your liking. The more you wanted time to linger, the more it seemed to escape you, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to see apartments with me,” 

You blink, you ask softly, “You want me to come?” 

He gets up, easing the cats gently out of his lap, as he makes his way to your side. He sits beside you, the cat in your lap, stretching its way between the two of you, as you rub his head.  

“I know we said we would see how this would go before the start of the semester, but I know what I want — I think I did from the very start of this,” he says, as his ebony gaze finds yours, “I want to be with you — and I’d like you to come with me to pick out an apartment, because I want it to be somewhere you want to be too—“ 

And you cut him off with a kiss, arms thrown around his neck — he freezes a moment, before melting into your kiss, his fingers cupping your cheeks, “We’ll have to make sure it’s pet friendly,” 

He chuckles, his forehead pressed against yours, “So we’re getting a cat?” 

Your fingers find his own as another cat brushes against both of your legs, “That or a poodle.” 

~~~

“What did you think of that place?” You ask as you both walk out of another viewing for an apartment, as he looks at the list he made on his phone, “it had good light, it’s close to the university, it’s pretty spacious,” But he’s sighing, as you tilt your head, “Suguru?” 

“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he’s shaking his head, “i think we should look for another place,” the same thing he had said for the last three places — he had found something wrong with each of them, but this one seemed different. 

“Why?” and he doesn’t answer, and you cling to his arm, a hand on his cheek to guide him to look at you, “Sugu?” 

He bites his lip a little, as he rubs the back of his neck, “it’s just far from the station so when you come to visit, it might be a little difficult for you,” and your gaze softens, mouth opening to reply, “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you would tell me not to worry,” and you close your mouth, and he chuckles, “I was right huh?” 

“Oh, a man is a smart ethics professor and he thinks he knows everything,” you kiss his lips, “you really don’t have to worry. We’ll make it work,” 

“I know, but the round trip on the bullet train is four hours, I don’t want to make you wait longer or waste even a minute of your time together,” he murmurs, as you twirl a dark strand of his hair between your fingers. 

“No moment spent getting to you or being with you is a waste,” you smile, fingers smoothing your boyfriend’s furrowed brow, “plus the train gives me time to catch up on my reading — and you’ll be coming to see me too,”

“I know, I just,” he sighs, leaning into your hand resting against his cheek, “I don’t want to ever be a burden,” 

“Not to me, it’s not a burden when it’s you,” your fingers find his and bring his knuckles to your lips, “you’re worth every minute,” 

“And you’re worth so much more than that,” and you smile against his skin. 

“Always have to one up me, don’t you?” And his arm wraps it’s way around your waist, tugging you close. 

His lips brush yours again, “Always, when it comes to caring for you.” 

~~~

“You found such a perfect hotel room,” you sighed, collapsing onto the pristine (not so pristine now) bed, your feet very sore from all the walking you had done over the last three days, “I’m glad you finally found a place you liked,” and he sits at the edge of the bed, beside you, as he chuckles at the sight of you laid starfished on the bed, “the apartment’s beautiful, close to the university and a station, and it allows pets,” 

His fingers find your foot, massaging the sore sole, bringing a low groan from your lips, eyes fluttering shut, “Good thing, otherwise, they’d never let me bring you in,” and your eyes snap open to playfully kick him and he laughs, as he stares at you, fingers ghosting over your ankle. 

“What are you staring at?” You tease, and he can’t help the words that escape his lips. 

“I love you,” and your breath catches, as your mind struggles to process the words that left his lips, and a chuckle leaves his lips, as he leans over on his elbow to hover over you, “I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it,” 

“You will?” your lips curl into a smile, “because I think I would like to hear it again,” 

“I love you,” and his lips graze against yours, “I love you,” again, his lips linger a moment longer, “I love you,” again, “I love you—” 

And you kiss him this time, your fingers cupping his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck, as your forehead press together, “I love you too,” and he grins down at you, his lips finding yours again and again, pressing you into the comforter, “I love you, Suguru,” you murmur, his fingers skimming your cheek.

“You know you don’t have to say it back—” 

“I know,” you scoff, as you pinch his cheek lightly, “I said it because I meant it, I do love you, Suguru — I have for a long time,” 

He smirks, “A long time?” 

“Shut up,” you pout, and he’s laughing as he showers your face with soft kisses, “nooo, I changed my answer, I don’t know if I love y—” and he’s swallowing your words with another kiss — but this one is languid and deep, a heat that sinks in from his touch, as his body brushes against yours, until he finally parts to allow you both a breath, “not fair,” 

“Sorry sweetheart, no changing your answer now,” he runs his fingers through your hair, and you’re pulling him into another soft kiss, before you bury your face in his chest, and he gives a soft sigh, as the two of you cuddle, a small chuckle on his lips. 

“What is it?” 

“Deja vu,” and you blink, he laughs again, “the last time we were in a hotel together, we weren’t together, but we had these feelings, and now—” his lips find the top of your head, fingers running through your dark locks, “things are so different — it almost feels like a lifetime ago,” 

“It wasn’t that long ago, but I’m glad it feels that way,” your nose brushes against the hollow of his throat, “I want us to fill up our present with good memories, so that we don’t have any of those other ones linger,”

“I think we can manage that,” his lips glide against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “we should shower,” 

“We?” you raise an eyebrow, a heat that sparks and settles over your skin that only stokes brighter and hotter, when his hand runs down your side and squeezes your hip, “Sugu—” 

“Should we take a utilitarian approach? The benefits: it’s better for the environment to preserve water, we can stay close to each other as we clean our bodies, and reach the spots that are hard for us ourselves to reach. The costs would be,” his lips ghost your collarbone, “we would take longer thus using more water, we would get messier before we would get cleaner, and we might spend a lot more time in bed after,” 

“How is that a cost?” you slip off the bed, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it at him, before pulling down your shorts, as you open the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Are you going to show me the benefits of being my boyfriend?” 

~~~

“Suguru,” his name left your lips in broken syllables, as the head of his leaking cock teased your drenched entrance, your hands braced against the shower wall, the cold of the wet glass contrasting with the warmth of his body pressed against your back, “please,” 

“Please what, princess?” his lips ghost over your shoulder, licking a water droplet from your neck, as he moves a few wet locks to kiss the skin behind your ear, “You’re going to have to be more specific — I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what you need — isn’t that the first thing I taught you?” 

“No, the first thing you taught me was to never be late,” you gasp as he allows his tip to sink into your needy cunt only a little, before he allows it to slip out, “fuck, Sugu, please, I want your cock,” 

“There we go,” his chuckle rumbles against your skin, as he guides his length to your dripping pussy before beginning to sink in, “I told you we would be in here for a while,” his fingers find yours, as he thrusts into you in one smooth movement, his balls pressed flush to your ass, “even your fingertips have become like prunes,” he turns your head to see your lips parted and panting for him, cunt twitching as he drags a thumb down your lips, “but my favorite student doesn’t mind does she?” and you whimper as he pulls his hips back, only to pump back in even harder, a moan leaving your lips, as he holds an arm around you to hold you, as he presses his other palm against the wall, as he starts to fuck you in earnest. 

The slaps of your wet skin echoes in the glass walls of the shower, steam from the hot water filling both of your visions, as his tip brushes against your cervix, “S’good, Sugu, so deep,”  your walls flutter around his dick. 

“Good girl, so perfect f’me, take me so well,” his balls slap against the soft flesh of your ass as he fucks you harder, “been thinking about this for so long, thought about taking you in that hotel room all those nights ago, and it’s better than I could have imagined,” one of his hands finds your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple, as your walls only pull him in deeper and deeper each time he sinks back in, “perfect little princess cunt made f’me, only for me,” 

He’s desperate, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, “Please, I’m close,” your soft cries and moans will be the death of him. He’s turning your head and leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. His hands squeeze your hips as he rocks against you again and again, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears, until he finally hits that spot that has you seeing stars, pulling you over the edge. You cum, the coil in your stomach snapping as you do, your walls clamping down on his dick, as he notches himself deep and cums — spurting his hot release deep inside, as the two of you moan, lips parting. The quiet water drumming against his back fills the silence along with your soft gasps and his pants. The two of you slump forward in the shower, his arm braced around your middle, as his softened cock slips from inside. 

He presses soft kisses to your neck and cheek, whispering quiet praises, “Let’s finish washing up, baby, and I’ll help you into bed,” and you nod, boneless, as you lean against his chest, fingers brushing down his cheek, “are you okay?” 

You nod, as you lean up to kiss his lips, “More than, when I’m with you,” and you add with a dreamy smile, “especially when I find out you’ve fantasized about me,” his already flushed cheeks even redder than before, “you’ll have to tell me more about these thoughts,” 

“And if I refuse?” he murmurs, the blush kissing his ears now, the pink of his soft skin contrasting against the black of his gauges. 

You hum, “I have my ways of making you talk,” and he snorts, as your expression softens, “I love you,” 

He turns you gently, finding your lips in another kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck — and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be than with you, “I love you too.” 

~~~

“It’ll fly by,” you murmur, as you rake your fingers through his hair — you had convinced him to get a trim a week ago, the dead ends long gone, and all that was left were his gorgeous locks. He still opted for the long hair look — sometimes it was tucked away in a bun, other times it was half up, and even at times, he kept it down, “it’s two weeks, and then I’ll come by to visit you,” 

“It’s two weeks too long,” Suguru sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry I had to do—” 

You place a finger over his lips, “Don’t apologize for furthering your career with something you’ve always wanted to do,” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I only have one year left of the program, and then after that, we’ll see where we’re at—” 

He glances away, “I don’t know where either of us will be — but I know I want us to be together,” he bites his lip, and it only makes you want to kiss him all the more, “if that’s what you want too,” 

You pull back only to find his lips again, “You never mince your words do you, Professor?” You can’t help but smile at this man — the man you loved more than you could express in any combination of words. 

“Well, I find my most bright students need a more direct approach,” and you laugh, as he’s pressing needy kisses along your jaw, nosing the sensitive skin, “I think you’ll find it’s a tried and true method,” 

“Oh yeah, I’ve tried it — it’s very true,” as his lips kiss their way back to yours, “do you mean that? And what did you mean? Do you want us to live together or live in the same city—” 

“I would like us to live together, if we are at that point then,” his gaze meets yours, a hint of concern dancing across his ever furrowed brow, “I don’t want to pressure you — so why don’t we discuss that when we get there?” 

“Sounds reasonable,” your fingers smoothing his brow, “but for the record,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “I want to live with you too,” and you bite back a grin at the joy that evaporates the hints of worry on his features, “along with our non-negotiable dozen cats and adorable poodle,” 

He laughs, an easy smile that pulled on his lips, as it always did with you, “I told you, I don’t take in strays aside from you,” you grab your pillow and hit him with it, as he laughs, “ow, ow, I’m joking! I’m sorry—” and you’re giggling as he rips the pillow from your grasp, only to roll you over onto your back, “it sounds nice — a home with you — waking up next to you, planning our days, spending our evenings,” he murmurs, “feels like a dream,” 

You pull him into a kiss — you’ve had many dreams about this man before you — far too many sleepless nights hoping for this reality, only to have it ripped away. But you wouldn’t wake up from this dream, the back of your knuckles grazing his cheek, not ever. 

“It won’t be — not for long.” 

~~~~

“Still not awake? You’ll be late if you wake up any later,” a murmured whisper in your ear stirs you awake, words prying you from your unconscious, as you groan softly, limbs and eyes still so heavy with sleep. But you know you have to get up, part ways with your far too warm bed and the tempting grasp of your blanket. 

“Don’t wanna wake up yet,” and a laugh rings in your ear, lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, “noooo, please, five more minutes,” 

He relents as you stretch your limbs and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you — your thoughts similarly circling the drain — you had a lecture, a presentation, a student council meeting to tend to — not to mention a meeting with your advisor and the department head about your thesis. 

You turn and cuddle into his chest, pressing soft kisses along the space where his collarbone and chest meet, you smirk against his skin as he shivers, as he murmurs your name. 

“What? I’m trying to wake up,” as you lean up and meet him in a lazy kiss, fingers finding the back of his neck, “what better way than this?” 

Today was going to be long, but you supposed it was worth it only to end up here at the end of the day, as you turn and run your fingers through his black locks, “What do you have to do today? First day of a new semester,”

“Two lectures and our meeting later today, and maybe lunch with you?” And your lips curl, as you pull your phone off its charger to check your emails. 

“Really? Lunch? You don’t think that wouldn’t rally scandal across campus two members of the student council conferring outside their meetings on the first day of spring semester?” And he laughs, turning to face you, his short black hair fell in messy tangled in front of his forehead, “might be tempting political intrigue, Yuta,” 

And your boyfriend only smiles, jet black short locks falling in front of his forehead as his fingers brush your cheek before he leans over to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I think we’ll be alright,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “we’ve been pretty lucky, don’t you think?”

It was so simple, it was so easy, and it was so right. 

And your phone flashed with a reminder that caught your eye: Meeting with Suguru Geto — the first time you’d see him in several months, the first time since you had broken up, and the first time since he had broken your heart. 

And Yuta called your name, his eyes curious, “You okay?” And you only smile, locking your phone and the glaring reminder away, to lean over and kiss your boyfriend. 

“More than okay,” as you slowly sit up, “come on, we can’t be late, can we?”  

✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming - so when i planned part three with hannah, it was supposed to have three arcs -- this is only one of them lmao - i suppose i was a bit too ambitious with what i thought i could contain in one part. anyway sorry about this ending lmao :) love you - don't worry they will all have a happy ending

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon, @enchantedpendant, @serendididy, @soulstealercat, @neuviloved, @simply-a-s1mp, @satorusmochis, @maddietries,

[pedroscowgirl]

Tinted desires

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: smut!, minors dni!

p in v (wrap it up), creampie, fingering, powerdynamics (boss-employee), secret relationship, dirty language and lmk if i forgot something

Summary: After catching the unsub, you and Hotch linger in the SUV, unable to wait until you get home. The tension between you is undeniable, and seeing him look so irresistible in his FBI gear pushes you over the edge.

masterlist

The night had settled in, casting a calm darkness over the nearly empty street. The black SUV idled in its space, the faint hum of the engine the only sound as you sat beside Hotchner. The mission was over, the unsub caught and the team safe, but the tension still hummed between you and Hotch, not the adrenaline-fueled kind from the chase, but the kind that had been growing quietly between you two for months now.

You shifted in your seat, glancing over at him. His hands were still wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles white from the pressure, and his gaze was fixed out the front windshield. There was always this quiet storm in him after a case. The weight of leadership bore down on him, and the lines on his face deepened, his thoughts somewhere far away.

But tonight, the air between you felt different, thicker. The silence, which was usually companionable, now felt charged. You swallowed, your heart thudding in your chest, knowing exactly why.

He was always so good at keeping the mask on, at hiding what he truly felt behind those dark, unreadable eyes. But you had learned to see through it, to catch the brief flickers of vulnerability he allowed himself only around you. There were fleeting moments when he would let his guard down, glances that lasted too long, touches that lingered too intimately. You had become experts at hiding your relationship from the team, from the world. But sometimes, in the quiet, the secrecy grew too heavy to bear.

You shifted slightly in the passenger seat, leaning toward him. You couldn’t help it, you were drawn to him. The way his hand rested on the center console, so close to yours but never quite touching, was almost unbearable

“Aaron,” you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, breaking the silence between you.

He turned to you, his dark eyes locking with yours,. “We can’t,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, but his eyes betrayed him. There was heat there, a hunger he was trying so hard to suppress, but you could see it in the way his gaze lingered on your lips.

You glanced out the window, noticing the darkness and the heavily tinted glass. No one could see in. You turned back to him, your breath catching in your throat as you felt the weight of the moment, the unspoken desire hanging in the air between you.

“No one will see us,” you whispered, your hand brushing lightly against his on the console.

His eyes darkened, his breath hitching slightly as your fingers curled around his hand. His resolve was cracking, you could feel it, and it only fueled your desire. You could feel the heat of his body, the tension in the way he was holding himself, so tightly wound, like he was trying to stop himself from losing control.

His hand hesitated for a moment, then slowly moved, turning over to grasp yours. The contact was electric, sending a jolt of heat through you. His touch was firm, but tentative, as if he were still fighting with himself.

“We shouldn’t,” he repeated, but his voice was shakier now, his control slipping. His thumb brushed across your knuckles, the soft motion at odds with the tension in his body.

You shifted closer, your breath catching as his fingers traced along the edge of your thigh, so close to where you wanted him. The air felt too thick to breathe, your skin too sensitive, the anticipation building with every second.

“Aaron, please,” you whispered, your voice breathless, need edging into your words.

You saw it then, the moment he broke. His hand slid higher, his fingers brushing the inside of your thigh now, the heat of his touch almost unbearable. His eyes stayed on yours, dark and intense, as he moved his hand closer, his fingers grazing the edge of your underwear through your pants. You let out a soft gasp, your hips shifting toward him instinctively.

His jaw clenched, and his hand paused, as if he were giving himself one last moment to stop, to pull away. But when your hand moved to his, guiding him, his resolve shattered completely.

His fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, sliding over the soft fabric of your underwear, and you could feel him hesitate for just a second. His breath was shallow, his eyes locked on yours, watching for any sign of hesitation. But there was none.

“Aaron…” you breathed out, barely able to keep your voice steady.

His hand moved lower, pressing lightly between your legs, feeling the heat and wetness that had already begun pooling there. He let out a low, guttural sound, his breathing growing ragged as he realized how much you wanted this, how much you needed him.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice low and strained, as if the words themselves were almost too much for him to say.

You whimpered softly, your hips pressing into his hand as he applied more pressure, his fingers exploring the slick heat between your thighs. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every second of this moment, despite how much he was clearly struggling to maintain control.

His fingers slid beneath the fabric of your underwear, finally touching you where you ached for him. You gasped at the contact, your body trembling under his touch as his fingers slowly slid through your wetness, exploring every inch of you.

“Aaron, please…” you whimpered again, your hands gripping the edge of the seat as he continued to tease you, his fingers moving with excruciating slowness.

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your neck, his fingers sliding deeper now, fingering you with deliberate precision. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding himself back, trying to maintain control even as his own arousal grew. You could see it too, the hardness of him pressing against his pants, and it only made you want him more.

His thumb found your clit, pressing against it in slow, firm circles that had you gasping and squirming beneath his touch. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending alight with pleasure as he expertly worked you over, his fingers sliding in and out of you, his thumb never leaving that sensitive spot.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the need for release, but still, he took his time, drawing it out, making you beg for it.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “But we have to be quiet. Can you do that?”

You nodded frantically, biting your lip to keep from crying out as his fingers pressed deeper, harder, the pleasure building to a breaking point.

And then, with one final stroke, your body clenched around his fingers, the wave of release crashing over you. You bit down on your lip, your breath hitching as you came undone beneath his hand, your body trembling in the aftermath.

He didn’t stop, his fingers still moving gently inside you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were left trembling, breathless, your body slumping back against the seat.

He finally withdrew his hand, his fingers glistening with your arousal as he pulled back slightly, his breathing just as unsteady as yours.

The tension between you and Aaron was now a living, breathing thing in the confined space of the SUV. After he pulled his hand away from your throbbing core, the heat between you still burned, almost unbearable in its intensity. His eyes stayed locked on yours, dark and clouded with desire, and you could see he was still trying to hold onto the last remnants of his control.

But you were done with waiting.

“You’re such a naughty girl,” Aaron whispered, his voice low, gravelly, and full of the heat that had been simmering beneath the surface. His hand rested on your thigh, fingers brushing over your skin like a promise, as his dark eyes flickered with that familiar intensity.

You smirked at him, leaning in closer, your lips just a breath away from his. “I can be even naughtier,” you teased, your voice dripping with challenge.

“Oh yes?” His mouth curled into a small, knowing smirk, the kind that made your pulse race even faster.

Without breaking eye contact, you shifted in your seat, a slow, deliberate movement, and climbed over the console. You straddled his lap, your legs wrapping around his, and the feel of his hard body beneath yours sent a shiver through you. His hands immediately gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin, as if he were still trying to maintain some semblance of control. But the bulge pressing against your core told a different story.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice a low growl as you leaned in, your lips grazing his ear.

“Making you feel so good,” you whispered, your breath hot against his skin. You felt him tense beneath you, his hands tightening their grip on your waist as a low groan escaped his lips. The sound sent a thrill through you, knowing you had him exactly where you wanted him.

With your fingers deftly working, you began unbuckling his belt, your movements slow and deliberate, teasing him, making sure he felt every second of it. His breathing grew heavier, his eyes never leaving yours, watching as you took control.

His hands slid down to your hips, and with a firm press, he pushed the seat back, giving you more room. His hands remained on your waist, gripping you tightly as if he needed to anchor himself to something. His eyes darkened as you moved against him, the friction sending sparks through your body.

You had already shed your pants in the heat of the moment, and now, with a single motion, you pulled his belt free, tossing it aside. His hips shifted beneath you as you reached for the zipper of his pants, your fingers brushing against the hard length of him through the fabric. His breath hitched at the contact, a low groan escaping his throat.

He was still wearing his FBI vest, the dark material straining against his broad chest, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on it. Something about seeing him like this, so in control yet completely unraveling under your touch, made your desire for him burn even hotter.

“Do you want me to take it off?” he asked, his voice a little rougher now, his hands sliding up your sides, brushing over the hem of your shirt.

You shook your head slowly, your lips curling into a smile as you met his gaze. “No. It does something to me.”

His laughter was low, a deep rumble in his chest that you felt beneath your palms. “You like this, huh?” he teased, his smirk widening as his hands found your hips again, guiding you over him.

“You have no idea,” you breathed, your body moving against him, feeling the heat and hardness of him beneath you, barely contained by the fabric separating you.

His control was slipping, you could feel it in the way his hands roamed your body, the way his breathing grew more ragged. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against your neck, and his voice, low and thick with desire, made you shiver. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“I like danger,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved your hips against him, grinding against the hard length of him through his pants.

His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you harder against him, and his head fell back against the seat as he let out another low groan, the sound sending a rush of heat straight through you.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, his voice rough as his hands slid down. His touch sent a jolt through you, your body trembling as his fingers brushed over your slick heat again.

“Maybe,” you teased, your hands working on unbuttoning his pants now, sliding the zipper down slowly. “But what a way to go.”

Aaron groaned again, his hands gripping your hips tighter as you finally freed him from his pants, your hand wrapping around the hard length of him. His eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, the heat between you almost unbearable.

“Are you ready for this?” you whispered, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth, teasing him with the barest touch of your lips.

His eyes opened, dark and full of need as they locked on yours. His hands slid up your back, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Always.”

And with that, you lowered yourself onto him, the feeling of him stretching you filling every inch of you, sending a wave of pleasure crashing through your body. His grip on your hips was firm, guiding you as you moved, his breath ragged and hot against your neck.

The SUV felt impossibly small as you moved together, the heat and intensity of the moment swallowing everything else around you. There was only him, his hands on your body, his breath in your ear, and the sound of his groans as you took him deeper, faster, until neither of you could hold back any longer.

“Aaron,” you gasped, your body trembling with the intensity of it all, the pleasure overwhelming as you rode him, feeling the tension building between you, the coil tightening with every movement.

He gripped you harder, pulling you down onto him, his own breath hitching as he buried his face in your neck. “God, you feel so good,” he growled, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself together.

Aaron's voice was rough and full of raw desire as he looked at you, his grip tightening on your hips. “Fuck, you’re so filthy,” he growled, his tone low and commanding. “Fucking your boss in an FBI car. I want to hear you beg me to come inside you, beg for it baby.”

The filthy edge to his words sent a shiver down your spine, making you groan in response. Your hands gripped his shoulders as the heat of the moment intensified, every nerve in your body on fire. “God, I do love that,” you gasped breathlessly, your voice shaking with need. “Please, Aaron, please come inside me. I need it, I need you…”

Your desperate plea made him groan, and the sound of your voice begging for him only drove him closer to the edge.

And then, with one final movement, the tension snapped, your body exploding with pleasure as you came, trembling and gasping against him. His hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you harder against him as he followed, his own release crashing over him in a wave that left both of you breathless.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath of pleasure. His hands stayed on your waist, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, and you couldn’t help but smile as you felt the last remnants of tension slowly fade away.

Finally, you pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his as you both tried to catch your breath. Aaron’s hands slid up your back, his touch gentle now, a stark contrast to the intensity of just moments ago.

“You’re something else,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

You grinned, still breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked into his dark, satisfied eyes. “And you love it.”

He chuckled, low and soft, his hands tightening around your waist as he pulled you close again. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice filled with both affection and a lingering hunger. “I really do.”

Just as the heat between you and Aaron cooled off, the unthinkable happened, a sharp knock echoed through the SUV. Both of you froze, your breath still heavy, bodies tangled in the haze of lust and passion.

You quickly turned your head toward the window, your heart racing, only to see a familiar silhouette standing outside the car. It was Morgan. He leaned down, squinting through the heavily tinted windows, clearly trying to make out who was inside.

"Hey!" he called out, knocking on the window again, a curious lilt in his voice. "Who’s in the FBI car? I saw the lights on from outside the building."

Your eyes widened in panic, and you turned to Aaron, who looked as composed as ever, though you could see the flicker of frustration in his dark gaze. His hand was still gripping your waist, and your bodies were still connected. You had no time to move, no chance to hide what had just happened.

Aaron’s jaw clenched, and he leaned in close, whispering against your ear. "Stay quiet," he murmured, his voice low and commanding. "I’ll handle it."

With a quick but careful motion, he pulled you tighter against him, using his suit jacket to shield the evidence of what had just transpired. He tapped a button on the door to roll the window down just a crack, keeping the inside of the car dark enough to hide you.

"Morgan," Aaron said, his voice as steady and authoritative as ever. "What are you doing out here this late?"

Morgan tilted his head, still trying to peer inside. "Hotch? What are you doing in the car with the lights on? I thought everyone had cleared out for the night."

You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, your body still trembling from the intensity of the moment. You pressed yourself deeper into Aaron’s chest, trying to stay as still as possible, your heart racing as you waited for Morgan to give up and walk away.

But Morgan, ever the curious one, didn’t seem satisfied with Aaron’s calm demeanor. "Everything okay in there, man? You sure you’re not hiding something?"

Aaron gave him a sharp, knowing look. "Just wrapping up some paperwork. You can head home, Morgan."

For a moment, there was silence as Morgan seemed to process the situation. Then, with a skeptical shrug, he stepped back from the car. "Alright, Hotch. If you say so. But next time, don’t leave the lights on, you’re wasting company resources."

Aaron waited until Morgan had turned and walked back toward the office building before he let out a breath, his fingers still gripping your waist possessively.

“That was close,” you whispered, your voice shaky but laced with amusement.

Aaron smirked, his lips brushing your ear. “Too close.

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added): @looking1016 @pear-1206 @doe-eyed-diva @ssa-aaronhotchner @sweetpinkchampagne @totallyjovialblaze @pastelpinkflowerlife @donttrustlove @actualdeemon @jencole214 @fandomawesomeness

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Down Bad — Spencer Reid x Fem Reader (Smut 18+)

Summary: After seeing that her ex boyfriend is engaged to his “rebound girl”, Reader finds herself missing the comforts and pleasures of sex.

Notes: ahh!! @reidsbookclub thank you my absolute love for reading this ahead of time. your enthusiasm and support and love is so so so appreciated <3 and this is my piece for @imagining-in-the-margins Friends with Benefits challenge

Word Count: 6 K

Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption (not drunk), oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, (kinda) dom Spencer ( hopeful ending?), unprotected sex, some negative self body image (reader), finishing inside with birth control, breeding kink, possessive language, dirty talk/crude language (I know Spencer's probably a tab bit OOC but this is me trying here)

Down Bad

There was no way for my situation to turn crappier. My finger stood, haunted and frozen above my phone screen. The bathroom sink ran unattended as I attempted to defrost my heart. It had dropped to my stomach as my eyebrows shot up.

I still followed Lydia, my ex's younger sister on Instagram and Facebook. Her brother might have turned out to be a terrible communicator, but she was cool.

Just a couple of months ago, she was a student in Geology and the last time we spoke she was writing a paper on Ancient Rocks in communities that used aqueducts systems. What you could do with a Master's in Geology was beyond me and my office job. I'm sure she hears too many "you must live under a rock" joke from her dad. He was always cracking the most dad jokes that have ever dad-joked; I missed it. And Lori's South Chocolate Gravy Pie. I didn't even want to know how many sticks of butter it took.

Lydia had her arms thrown around a tall, leggy, blonde girl that looked like her name was Sarah or Hannah. The post was in black and white and Hannah/Sarah showed off her gorgeous ring.

lydia-nielson99 The best honorary sister ever <3!

When my ex and I dated, the idea of fine dining was a night out at a movie sharing a bucket of popcorn and an honest-to-God-attempt at moving hopping. We talked about marriage; he'd slip on fake rings made from grass blades braided together meticulously on my finger, kiss it, and promise me that he'd earn me something worthy of my finger.

The post had only been up for 43 minutes and already had gotten a hundred or so likes. I scrolled the comment section, ignoring the rushing tap, to read the comments from my friends, our couple friends. They must've liked Sarah/Hannah better, or at least liked her and Shane better together then Shane and me. I haven’t heard from them since the breakup.

Aren't most geologists analog? I slipped my phone back into my pocket and washed my hands, wishing that I could crawl under a rock, one of those ancient ones that Lydia studies.

I couldn't decide. I couldn't decide between a red that would give me a headache I could feel in my teeth or straight gasoline that would make my face, and heart, as equally numb.

I wanted something quick and something strong. I was so, so, so over Shane it wasn't even funny. But that didn't stop him from being the love of my life, to the loss of my life. I just wondered, as I roamed the supermarket with my metal carriage holding tequila, limes, Kraft Mac and Cheese, and frozen pizza bagels, if he told Hannah/Sarah the same things.

If he would sit across from her, now probably able to splurge on a dinner fancier than Taco Bell or Denny's, and hold her hands. Would he move her ring from her middle finger to her ring finger like he did on mine?

God, I cringed, dropping in a box of Double Stuffed Oreos, I let him, shit talk me under tables with promises of rings and cradles in the other breath.

I reached for the pint of strawberry as another text pinged. Internally I knew that I would soon face an onslaught of future wine moms just jumping at the chance to "check in with me" during "such a challenging and emotional time" for me. I ignored the message, but it pinged again.

Spencer: Penelope said that the new season of that show you like is on. We can watch it tonight. I think that Hotch is actually gonna let us out at a normal time.

Spencer, my roommate, always texted with formality and correct grammar. I actually think that it would be impossible for him to do anything, but use proper spelling and grammar.

Unlike certain geologists, Spencer is actually analog. When I was searching for a roommate after my break-up, our mutual friend Penelope put us in touch. And just mere months later we've formed a friendship that most days is closer to a partnership than it is to anything else. Friends were hard for me, and relationships even harder. Looking back, I think that allowed Shane to bulldoze through boundaries I didn't even know I should have.

Spencer, a certified genius and self-described technophobe, couldn't tell me the purpose of Instagram, let alone that my ex-boyfriend's sister posted a picture with her newest soon to be sister-in-law, Sarah/Hannah.

I dropped a pint of Rocky Road ice cream and looped around for an extra box of Kraft Mac and Cheese before replying back to Spencer.

Me: Worst. Day. Ever!!! Ice cream & carbs @ 7

I stared at the bottle of tequila, understanding that ever since my 31st birthday, me and excessive drinking due to external crises would result in bloating, headaches, backaches, anxiety, and an entire weekend of recovery. Maybe instead of several shots, but I already finished half of the bottle of red I bought as a bottom of the ninth decision.

"Tequila?" Spencer mused, dropping his bag on the table. "This must be like Defcon 4? And I should know, I work in national security."

I grunted, my fingers drumming against the table. The cheap speaker connected to my phone plays sad breakup music. I saw Spencer's wheels turn as he sat down with me at the table.

"Want boxed Mac & Cheese?" I asked, standing up to scoop some of the dinner into a plate for myself. I didn't seek it out often, but there was something familiar and comforting about Kraft Mac & Cheese. "I know it's got a lot of shitty stuff in it. But I'm actually going to lose my mind tonight."

My voice turned shrill and unsteady. And my eyes flooded with sharp, salty tears. Spencer stood and then backed away, his eyes and face melting in mutual pain. "What happened?"

"Shane's getting married."

"That explains the tequila."

I laughed. Spencer didn't offer any condolences as the seconds ticked and ticked. Instead he looked at me. He must've noticed the groceries. The Oreos, ice creams, and boxes of incredibly processed macaroni and cheese all screamed classic crisis for me. Being as smart as he is, Spencer could probably have told something about me within weeks of meeting me.

"Well, I already drank some of that red wine." I said. "The tequila doesn't sound like a good choice. But bad choices can be fun choices when you want to hide under a rock for the rest of your life."

Spencer still didn't offer anything, he kicked off his shoes and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. "No tequila."

“You’re no fun." I huffed, grabbing my bowl and heading to the living room. "You promised me new episodes of The Queen's Court."

Spencer still frowned, his arms crossed as his steaming bowl of processed cheese pasta sat to his side on the counter. "I didn't think that Shane still was someone you thought about."

I sighed.

“It’s understandable. He’s marrying the girl he started dating right after breaking-up with you.”

I didn't think about Shane, not that often though. But he still was my first love. The love I shared with Shane was something he stole from me. I had given him all that youth for free; now I was thirty-one. Don't get me wrong, thirty-one is young, I don't feel old. But it's this weird, almost off-putting subliminal feeling when all of my friends either smell like weed or little babies.

"I don't love him. I don't want to be with him."

Spencer had rolled up his sleeves, revealing his forearms. He had a couple pictures of himself when he was younger. Him with his mom at one of his many post-graduate celebrations. One with his co-workers at a bar. He changed a lot; in pictures of the past he was thin and lanky. But now, when he would wear pants or cardigans or button downs with the sleeves rolled up, I found it difficult to not stare in appreciation. My sex life with Shane was good, consistent, and effective. While it might sound clinical to some, I think we both enjoyed knowing that we both knew how to, simply, get the job done for each other. I must be missing sex an awful lot to be getting flushed at the sight of Spencer’s arms.

Two years older than me, Spencer had had a life harder than most people. Penelope explained to me that he was finding it hard to live alone after he was falsely incarcerated. And working the hours he did at the BAU, he found it hard to find someone okay with someone coming home all hours of the night.

Like Spencer, I hated living alone. So together, we built a little home as roommates, as friends, and somewhere along the lines, as partners. And over the last couple of months, Spencer had never brought a date home. I had one hook up about two weeks after we moved in together. It was fine, but not enough to tempt back onto the horrid, vapid, devoid of anything promising landscape that was Bumble and Hinge.

"I just..." I bring my face into my hands in embarrassment. "I miss having someone to come home to who wants to see me."

Spencer crossed through the living room, bowl in hand. He sat criss cross on the floor like he did most nights. "I want to see you. I always want to see you, Y/N."

"You know what I mean, Spencer…And if I'm being honest...sex. God, I miss sex. Good, consistent, effective sex from someone that knows me."

Spencer and I never talked about sex. When we would watch movies that had sex scenes in it, neither of us would talk. One time we watched a movie starring whatever current Hollywood Pretty Boy had captured the hearts of the Internet at the time, and I commented that I would "ride that cowboy into the sunset." I remembered looking at Spencer for his reaction. Usually he would blush or roll his eyes or kick me playfully in the shin for being crass.

But that time he didn't. Instead, his jaw set, grinding firmly and unyieldingly. After that I didn't make sexy jokes or talk about sex in front of him. I thought it made him uncomfortable, till now I suppose

The music changed, and the breakup anthem of the century played. I stood up on the sofa, solo cup in hand and swayed to the music as Spencer stood below.

"You want sex?" Spencer asked. "We can have sex on this sofa right now if that's what you want. I mean, how much wine have you had?"

I busted out laughing, sipping the red wine from my solo cup. I didn't bother for a fancy wine glass. Besides, it was cheap and . And clearly it was working if it made me imagine Spencer Reid, my hot, stoic roommate with dreamy brown eyes, offering me sex.

"Spencer! Come, dance. Please!" His eyes shifted over my body. And he must have noticed the way my knees wobbled under the insecurity of the sofa cushions or the way my eyes must have been glazed and sparkly.

He obliged me, and his hand wrapped around mine. He raised my hand above my head to twirl me and then walked me down from the couch. "Let's get you on level ground. I hurt my leg a couple years after I started the BAU and it's no fun healing up."

He sat me down on the couch and placed a throw blanket on my lap. My bowl of Mac & Cheese was missing, but returned back to my lap, reheated. Spencer also replaced my solo cup, cutting me off, thankfully, from alcohol for the time.

"Peach flavored electrolyte water. And tomorrow I'll make you breakfast." He offered, sitting down on my right as he started the show.

"I didn't mean to be annoying and buzzed. I know you don’t like it" I said, not looking at Spencer. "I don't love him. Or like him. Or even want to be with him. Ugh. No, I just...I want…sex."

Spencer nodded, not even looking at me as the scene between the Queen and her lady's maid wore on. I kept trying to convince Spencer that the Queen was actually the villain and the warring clan would take over and let the series run on and on for an infinite amount of seasons. But it was campy and dramatic and exactly what I needed as I licked my, apparently, very open and painful wounds.

"What's the matter?" I asked, pausing the television. "You look pissed off."

"You know that he was the one that lost out when you guys broke up." Spencer's eyes didn't meet mine, even though the television remained paused. "He didn't deserve you. Not if he didn't know how goddamn lucky he was when he had you."

I don't let my heart think this means anything."What?" But I feel my cheeks prickle with

heat, just like they did when Spencer, albeit jokingly, offered to have sex with me.

"I said, it's his loss. If I had you, I wouldn't ever lose you, Y/N."

"I'm nothing special." I admit. I wasn't the most positive or confident girl, in my mid twenties I went to therapy for a good three years to sort out some baggage from my childhood. We all have something and mine was having a hard time seeing myself. I couldn't maintain positivity, to my brain it was better to remain neutral than to jam positivity down my throat that I couldn't honestly accept.

"You're not nothing special, Y/N." Spencer's voice cut through, sharp and confident. He sat up, his body sliding so close to mine that his knees touched my thighs. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And you're smart. And funny. You make me laugh like no one has during a time in my life when I was convinced no one would be able to."

Our apartment isn't big, but it's enough space for Spencer and I to feel like we're could interact when we wanted, which was most of the time. But there was enough space for us to find our alone time when needed.

As Spencer's knees rubbed against mine and his soft eyes met mine, the room seemed to collapse. It was as if all the air was sucked out.

“And I am so...I've never been happier to have you be the last person I see before I go to sleep and the first person I get to see when I wake up. And if I...and if I had that with you the way he did? I wouldn't have messed it up."

"Spencer…" He raised his hand, showing me his palm, a sign that I think signified he meant no harm, but as he words, heated and charged sliced through me, I could feel them ricochet upon impact.

"I know…But, when I said I would fuck you on this couch, Y/N, it wasn't an empty promise. I meant it. And it wouldn’t have to mean anything.”

Spencer shifted on the couch. It creaked with his weight. The bowl of Mac & Cheese burned against my leg— even through the throw blanket. My heart was racing and racing till it skipped a beat. It nearly stopped. He sounded so sure of himself. I wanted to laugh it off again, as if the thought of me and Spencer hooking up…no fucking on the sofa was something comedic or entertaining.

“Are you…Spencer…are you sure?”

I tried to keep my voice steady, unwilling to let him know that the thought of his hands on my body lit a fire inside of me, a fire that I had yet to challenge. But God do I want to tame it. Sex with Spencer would be messy and complicated.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed in on my face. I would’ve thought that being stared at so intensely would have made me want to sink into the couch so I’d be as forgotten as stray hair ties and pocket change. But I wasn’t. Spencer’s brown eyes, liquid bronze bore into me. I felt a hot excitement wash over me that I knew was arousal.

“Yes.”

“Is it bad that I want you to kiss me?” I sighed. “It’s bad timing for either of us. But…”

“But you want me to kiss you?” I nodded and Spencer moved closer to me on the couch. “You want me to help you forget how that man has made you hurt.”

“Spencer…” Before I could rescind my desire, not that I would ever think about it, his hand cupped my cheek. Spencer’s thumb brushed against my jawbone as his eyes scanned my face. I could smell his lavender mint body wash; crisp and clean.

His mouth was anything, but crisp and clean. It was hot and dirty. Spencer kissed me with a hunger that couldn’t be sated with just one kiss. I knew for the moment his lips touched mine, I was done for. I wasn’t a whiskey drinker; I hardly knew what it even tasted like. But Spencer’s kisses felt like it. He doesn’t drink, but his warm body was flush against mine and I tasted the heady, smokey warmth of a strong cocktail. His arms and torso were thick and solid.

I brought my hands up to his neck and carded my fingers through his scalp. He groaned, the vibrations tingled against my lips as he kissed me. Spencer’s teeth tugged at my bottom lip, pulling it out before he kissed it again. He shifted so his back was against the couch and I was hauled up to his lap.

“There you go, baby.” Spencer said. His hands were large and imposing against my back and I could feel their heat through my shirt.

My muscles and resolve transformed to liquid when he called me that. I could feel my heart surge and lurch and leap as Spencer’s lips nipped against my skin. It was so good, so warm, so achingly wonderful that I felt myself wondering if I could do this over and over. I loved my vibrator and I would continue to love my vibrator long after this once-in-a-life-time situation with my roommate would end. But there was nothing like straddling a man’s lap.

And Spencer Reid was a sight to behold. I knew he used to be skinny, but in the years that I didn’t know him, Spencer had grown up. He filled out his pants with his strong thighs and softer stomach. His pants were strained and tented. I grinded down, enjoying his haughty moan in my ear.

I arched my back, exposing my neck as Spencer’s wet, hot mouth pressed kissed along the column of my throat. Feeling him grin as he kissed me I tugged at his hair sharp and hard. His grunt is a mixture of surprise and pleasure. I didn’t think that he’d be this vocal but with me writing in his lap I felt him try to hold back.

“Just touch me.” I whined, kissing Spencer. “Please just touch me.”

His pants tented against my core. I tensed at the feeling of his erection. My pajama pants and underwear, though thin, offer only a sliver of the friction I desired. Spencer’s fingers, quick and nimble, didn’t hesitate to undo the drawstring bow.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Spencer murmured, kissing my temple. His lips are like a tattoo kiss as he resurrects something inside of me that I had long buried. “Sit on the couch.”

I scrambled to sit, my body acting of its own accord as Spencer’s words rattled through me. He was so confident, so sure, so certain. And his hands never left my body. It was as if there was some internal pull between the two of us. He sank to his knees and swung my right leg over his shoulder. I lifted my butt and he slid my pajama pants off my legs. Tossing them to the floor, Spencer licked his lower lip and looked at me as if I was good enough to eat. I supposed that we were about to find out just exactly how good I was.

“Open up for me, baby girl.” Spencer whispered, his breath landed on my skin and made me jump. “Let me see just how pretty you are.”

Spencer Reid had a dirty mouth. My cheeks and chest and belly burned with arousal. He kissed along the edges of my panties. Spencer’s middle finger dragged along my underwear, teasing my clit through the cotton fabric. With the patience of a saint, Spencer tormented both of us. He looked at me as if he could commit me to memory. His eyes were heavy with lust and something that I swore could mean something more. But that line of thinking had red wine written all over it. It wasn’t drunk. Hell, I wasn’t even buzzed anymore.

“Jesus, I’m a lucky fucking bastard.”

Yet, I sat there. With my legs spread, held open by Spencer’s large hands, practically humming with need and desire.

“Please. Please. Just touch me.” I begged, beyond caring if I sounded wanton with need. Spencer smirked as he hooked a finger underneath my panties and slipped them down my legs. And there I sat, legs spread. Finally he obliged. With two fingers, Spencer dragged them up my exposed core. The heel of his hand brushed against my clit. His skin was soft and his fingers deft and skilled. I closed my eyes as the pleasure took control of my body.

Spencer slipped a fingertip inside of me. He could feel the wetness dripping from my cunt. I grabbed his wrist, forcing him to hold his hand against my core. Our eyes met and I could not tell which one of us decided to let his finger sink inside of me. I watched as he slipped inside and released a throaty moan. My cries were extinguished by Spencer’s unyielding mouth. He pumped in and out, in and out, before slipping out of my cunt all together. I lunged forward at the sudden loss and was met by Spencer’s wry chuckle.

“I am going to eat your pussy. And you are going to cum against my face with your legs around my shoulders.”

I groaned. It’s as if Spencer knew that my brain needed to be switched off. He nipped at my inner thigh. Blood rushed throughout my body and I felt my pussy heat at the sensation. Spencer’s soft breath was hot against my skin as he kissed. He licked a line up my aroused core before flicking his tongue over my clit. It was a teasing, tormenting motion that coaxed a wave of pleasure to build. He’s a man possessed, so far gone that I didn’t even attempt to hold back as a moan rises in my throat.

“Jesus. You are a sight to behold. I’m going to show you how a man takes his time.”

As if he could possibly spread me apart even further, Spencer squeezed my thighs. Clearly he wanted to see all of me. Taste all of me. I could feel a coil tighten in my lower stomach and as Spencer lowered his mouth to my core, I felt the coil snap.

His licks aren’t shy and timid like I imagined. They’re purposeful and powerful. And threaten to melt my carefully crafted guard. He’s already gotten me well past the point of foreplay. I’m so wet that I’m sure cock that tents his pants can slip inside without much resistance. But he didn’t stop. His tongue continued lick and nip and suck against my most intimate area.

“Is this all for me? So wet. So pretty, sweetheart. Your cunt is dripping for me.”

I panted, unable to form a coherent thought as Spencer’s heated gaze spread over me. “All for you. Only for you.”

“Well in that case, I think I have a job to do.

All I could see was red. His hands gripped my thighs. I hated my thighs, usually. They’re too soft and squishy and usually ruin most pairs of pants eventually.

“Fucking hell.” Spencer cursed as he sunk two fingers into my needy cunt. “You’re so hot and tight for me, Y/N. Look at you. All splayed out. All for me.”

“You don’t have to do it until I finish.” I blurted out. “I—I know this isn’t….I want tonight to be for you as much as it is for me.”

Spencer’s eyes shifted.

“Ssshh, shhh,” He cooed. He looked up at me with his eyes big and blissed out. It was almost too much for me to handle. I watched as he kneeled in front of me; pants had become too tight from the moment my fingers groped him. At this point it was nearly impossible to withstand.

“I’ve thought about this way too much for us to rush this. I’m going to take my time with you, baby. You are going to ride my face like a good girl.The only thing that’s keeping me from cumming in my pants is the thought of burying my face into your pulsing cunt followed by my fucking you raw with my leaking cock.”

I yelped as he and sucked along my inner thigh. My skin was impossibly soft and tempting. “Fuck. Fuck, baby. You’re perfect. You are a fucking dream.”

I fisted his hair, feeling the familiar rush of pleasure from my head to my toes. For a while it only set my own bedsheets ablaze, but now it spread to Spencer. He groaned against my core, still lapping me up as the wall of pleasure threatened to come crashing down.

One second I was moaning, feeling myself toe the precipice before I teetered over. The feeling built and crashed before I could even enjoy it.

“Fuck! No. Damn it.” I cursed myself for not being able to climax, despite the down right sinful things Spencer was hell bent on doing between my legs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t…sometimes I have a hard time.”

“Don’t worry,” Spencer assured, his thumb brushing against my kneecap, “We’ll find our rhythm. Together. Anything you want. And I think I might actually die if I don’t get inside you this second.”

I laughed, dragging Spencer up by the shirt collar. He placed his hands against my hips and pulled me forward for a kiss.

I tasted myself against his lips and it turned my on beyond belief. “I want you. I’m on the pill and I want you. It’s awful timing because I don’t have any condoms and it’s a terrible idea but—”

I’m cut off by Spencer’s lips again. His mouth seared against mine, hot and needy. “I’m clean. I want this. I want you. So badly, sweetheart. So bad.”

I nodded, my mouth unwilling and unable to leave Spencer as he knelt in between my legs. He stood to his full height and took my hands. “I know I have promised to fuck you on this couch, but I have a bad knee and once I’m buried inside you, baby, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.”

“My bed’s made.”

Spencer’s hands didn’t leave my waist as I walked him to my bedroom. I should’ve been more embarrassed as I walked with him, considering I looked more akin to Winnie the Pooh than a sexy hook up. But once I felt a sharp sting on my ass, I quickly realized that Spencer thought the opposite.

“Don’t blame me.” Spencer said. “With that ass you’re lucky I haven’t had the sense to take you over my knee already.”

I turned, facing Spencer and standing with just an oversized pajama shirt covering my chest. His hands hovered over my waist, pulling me towards him by the fabric of my shirt. “I need to see those tits, baby. They drive me fucking wild in the morning. When you’re sitting on that damn counter with your messy hair and no bra. You’re a sight to behold, baby.”

“On one condition.” I presented, attempting to act as if the dirty words that fell between us had no effect on me. “Those pants? They find their way to the hamper. And fast.”

Spencer chuckled as his fingers brushed stray pieces of my hair away from my face. He touched me with such tenderness that I could feel myself craving it long after it was gone. He dropped his pants, followed by his boxers. I meant to tease him about the mini double helix DNAs printed all over his boxers, but I was effectively silenced by his erection.

I felt him the entire time I sat and made out with in his lap. I could feel how hard and thick and long he must be, but seeing him out in the open made my body lurch with need. He devoured me with his lips, pushing me down into the bed as his quick hands rid me of my shirt. Spencer’s teeth met my nipple, nipping and twisting it to elicit the dirtiest moans from my lips. He smiled, sucking marks into my skin that would last even after all what stood between us shattered.

Licking my lips, I could still taste myself from his kiss. Never feeling anything quite this intense with anyone, I suddenly felt so naked and bare. But Spencer’s calm hands, big and gentle, soothed me wordlessly.

“I need you.” I begged, wanton with need, “I need your cock so bad.” I wasn’t a begging woman, but as Spencer pressed the tip of his cock at my entrance I figured that anyone can learn how to relent now and again.

Sweet kisses to my sweaty skin replaced his dirty words that made me flush. As Spencer hovered above me, I drank him in. His eyes were hazel, but sometimes, depending on what he wore, they were brown or green. I quickly unbuttoned his top, eager to have his warmth spread all over him. He was thick and solid— all man. From the muscles in his back to the furrow of his brow and the slight curl pattern to his hair, Spencer sucked all the air from my lungs.

I was weightless. I was floating. I was soaring.

When he finally slid into me it was with an excruciatingly slow speed. “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbled, a hand brushed my hair and a pair of lips kissed my forehead. “Give ya a chance to see what you can handle.”

Emboldened, I wrapped my legs and interlocked my ankles around Spencer’s butt. He lunged forward and his forehead dipped towards my breast. His kisses were fast and erratic as I felt him sink deeper and deeper inside of me.

“You’re so thick…ah!”

“Oh fuck.” His voice was as raw and as affected as mine. “It’ll be fine, darling. You’re so perfect like this. Taking this cock like a good girl. I know how to make it better for you.”

His thumbs, rough and sharp, circled around my clit helping me to take his cock deeper and deeper. I whined, desperate for the relief and embarrassed at the way I’m at center stage. Spencer took me, made me his and I’m nothing but a mess for him. My bones are liquid as he reaches out for my hand.

It was like there was a blueprint to my body. I had it locked away somewhere. But somehow, somewhere along the way Spencer figured out where it was stored. He read the blueprint. And he knew exactly what to do to make my foundation crumble. With each stroke of his fingers against my clit or pulse of his cock in my pussy, he knew exactly what I needed.

Spencer’s lust filled voice rang clear. “You feel close. I’m so close. Can you come for me? Huh? Show me how you play with that pretty little pussy. How do you do it, Y/N?”

His hands and fingers dug into my lush body with an unrelenting desire I wasn’t accustomed to. Magic fingers. God. And I magic fucking cock. I grabbed his hair, dragging him down to my lips as I teased my clit. Looking down to where our two halves met nearly sent me over the edge. My cock swallowed Spencer’s thick cock, it was hot and erotic and I watched with my mouth hanging open in pure, unadulterated desire. My pussy, wet and hungry for more, begged him for more. I grabbed his ass with my unoccupied, dragging my fingernails down his skin as I begged for him to fuck me harder.

“Harder. Spencer. I need it.”

Spencer brought his face into my neck, kissing and biting my neck as he pounded into me. The angle set rockets of pleasure from my core to my toes, spurring me on as I practically chanted his name. Spencer moaned, his teeth sharp and mouth hot and heady as his kisses grew more and more frantic.

His thrusting was still sharp and calculated as his cocked continued to fuck me. “God, you look gorgeous when I fuck you. All fucked out from my cock. My girl.”

I liked the way he called me his. It was nice to be claimed. To be wanted and desired so badly that two letter little words were tacked on. It was a tiny word, but it changed the entire meaning. It was the sort of word that could make foundations falter and buildings collapse and roommates morph into something else entirely. Endorphins and hormones and who else knows what coursed through my veins.

It was just me and him. Together in a limitless space that neither of us would care to ever leave.

“So close.” I groaned and Spencer knew well enough to just continue rather than to change anything up. “That’s it, baby. Oh! Fuck. Spencer.”

My high came crashing down around me. I felt my cunt clamp around Spencer’s cock as he continued to thrust into me. His eyes watched me with an analytic level of observation. I knew he had a good memory; one that refused to allow him to forget much of anything. But as he watched me fall apart, naked and vulnerable and oh so aroused, it was like he was trying to commit me to memory.

“Come inside. Fuck! Spencer. Please. I need it. I want it.” I begged him, desperate for him to climax inside of me. I wanted to see what it would feel like to have his cum dripping from my needy, spent pussy. I wondered if it would feel different, if it would change something, something fundamentally.

His voice was hoarse and strained as he came, shooting spurts of hot cum into my cunt. It was unabashedly erotic, watching him fall apart with his bare cock stuffed inside me. “Fucking, hell. It’s never been like that before.” He kissed my jaw, holding me in place by my chin while still sheathed inside of me. It was a lovely feeling. Full and safe. I must have been so drunk on him because I thought I could stay like this forever.

The silence that fell between the two of us lingered for several months. Spencer’s fingers danced along my hip bone and up to my rib change. His eyes were closed and his hair was matted with sweat against his forehead. He had creases near his eyes and deep, well set-in bags under his eyes. I wondered how inappropriate it would be for him to spend the night with me. Naked of course. I don’t think either of us could handle having it any other way.

I never fucked my roommate. Nor have I been ballsy enough to have “feel better” sex with a friend. It’s not like I expected him to lay out a red carpet and get down on one knee after he gave me a handful of (earth shattering) orgasms.

“Y/N.” Spencer breathed. A beat passed before I dared to reply.

“Spencer.” He stirred beside me, his hand resting against my thigh.

“I think…I think we’re gonna need to try that again and again and again…” He rolled over onto me, kissing along my jaw. I felt the pads of his thumbs against my bare breasts and sighed.

God, help me. He’s my man.

Taglist: @foxy-eva @reid-ingandweeping @andiebeaword @boldlyvoid

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[murdrdocs]

mike having a wet dream next to you. (17+)

he’d drifted away in the night, just enough space between you two for you not to be able to feel him. still, you hear his sounds as clear as day.

at first, you think it’s a nightmare. the soft moans, whines bled into them to the point where they’re almost indistinguishable. you turn to face him, pout on your lips, your eyes still heavy from the slumber you’d accidentally awoken from.

for a second, you try to decide between waking him up or letting him be. but in your mind, it’s a nightmare, and you know how vivid mikes dreams can be.

you turn around, starting to lift a hand to push mikes curls back, the easiest way to wake him without startling him. but then he moans out your name, just a tiny grumble but it’s clear, every syllable meeting your ears.

and that’s when you realize it’s a wet dream instead. you don’t know if you’d been oblivious to his gyrating hips, blinded by your worries, but with your newly discovered information it’s practically all you notice. hips bucking at air, and when you lift the blanket, positioning your body to let the streetlight shine on mikes bottom half, you see a tent formed in his basketball shorts.

he stirs for a second, and you stiffen, afraid you’d awakened him with your movement. but he simply rolls to his back, groaning out your name with the movement. his arm throws above his heads the other slung across his torso, and his shirt has lifted at this point, giving you a peek at his v-line.

the sound he makes sounds pathetic, it makes you pity him, especially whenever his back arches with it. your pout deepens to a frown, thinking about how he has resorted to dreaming about you, when the real thing is right next to him. your pity only multiplies whenever he winces, a cracked “ah” slipping past his lips.

he’d talked in his sleep many times before, simple sentences that were more often than not jumbles of words that made absolutely no sense. sometimes, you tried to decipher them in the morning for fun, putting together your gathered words from the night with his disjointed memory of his dreams.

but now, his words make perfect sense. a plea, familiar to your ears but in this context that make your stomach stir.

“baby, please.”

[vivwritesfics]

Slow Ride

Jake saves her from a creep at the bar. She repays him in the best way she can think and rides him to his favourite song

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, hand job, fingering, riding, car sex, creampie

There was nobody she hated more than Jake Seresin. Ever since he'd come back to North Island, she hated him. But she hated him because she couldn't hate him.

Working behind the bar in The Hard Deck, she met her share of navy pilots. They were flirts, yes, but they were harmless flirts. But they knew what would happen if they push things, knew the consequences of disrespecting her.

Jake Seresin knew, too. He approached the bar with his usual charming smile and ordered a round of beers. She didn't say much as she got him the round of drinks. But still, even once he had them, Jake stayed to flirt with her.

She didn't flirt back, didn't want him to get the wrong idea. It had happened before, and the guy had flirted with her. He'd taken it too far and had gotten himself kicked out (well, Jake had been the one to throw him out).

There was one thing she liked about Jake, though. The fact that he protected her from the few creeps that had coming into The Hard Deck. He always had an eye on her, even when he was playing pool, making sure that nobody ever made her feel uncomfortable.

That was the thing. Although she hated Jake, he looked out for her. There was a time she was considering quitting her job at The Hard Deck. She loved her job, loved working for penny and loved how polite most of the aviators were. But there were a few guys that made things unbearable.

Until her knight in shining armour stepped in.

Jake didn't always have to step in and save her, but she loved it every time he did.

Like tonight. Cory was a regular, and a regular creep. He'd been kicked out more times than she could count, but he always found his way back in. Always slipped through the cracks and made it to the bar.

Thank God Jake saw him before she did. Even as Cory sat at the bar and whistled for her, Jake was there. He stood beside Cory and cleared his throat. "Can I help you?" He asked, trying to stay between Cory and herself.

Cory rolled his eyes and looked away from Jake. He turned his attention to her, wearing a smile that made her sick to her stomach. "Hey, pretty darlin'," he said, reaching across the bar towards her.

But Jake caught his hand before he could get it any closer. "You're not allowed in here, Cory," Jake said with a sneer as he pushed Cory away. "Get out before I make you get out."

Cory let out a laugh and shook Jake off. "Piss off, Bagman," he said, using the nickname that Jake normally didn't mind.

But Cory hadn't earned the right to use it. And it infuriated him. "Say that again," he challenged.

"Jake," she said from behind the bar, trying to grab his attention. As much as she liked Jake being there, protecting her, she didn't want it to get out of hand.

But Cory ignored Jake. He turned his attention to the poor woman behind the bar. "C'mon, pretty darlin'," he said as he leaned forward. "Let's say we get out of here after this."

The moment his hand reached out and touched the bottom of her skirt, Jake had him out of his seat, holding him up by his collar as he pressed him against the wall. "Fucking try it," he pretty much growled, spit flying into Cory's face.

Everybody in the bar had stopped what they were doing to watch. They watched as Jake dropped him, following Cory out of the bar. He made sure he was gone, too scared to come back before he returned to the bar.

"Sorry about that, sweets," said Jake as he sat on the bar stool and looked at her.

She placed a drink in front of him, one he hadn't ordered. "On the house," she said. "For being my hero."

Jake took it gratefully. He didn't return to the squad, instead staying at the bar with her until she closed up. Even then, even once she'd kicked everybody out, Jake stayed with her. He stayed with her as she cleaned and closed the bar and waited while she locked the doors.

But still, he didn't want to leave her. So, Jake walked her to her car. It wasn't creepy, no. It was comforting.

"I still feel like I should pay you back somehow," she said as she leaned against her car.

Jake let his typical charming smile come onto his face. "That beer was thanks enough, sweets."

Before she knew it, she was opening the back door to her car and gesturing for him to climb in. Jakes heart thundered in his chest as he did just that. He climbed in and scootched over to the furthest seat, giving her space to climb in beside him.

She did just that. Placing her back into the front seat, she climbed in beside Jake. "I wanted to give you a proper thank you," she said almost sheepishly as she leaned forward and grabbed a hold of her phone.

The music that sounded from the phone was a song Jake immediately recognised. She dropped her phone on the dash and climbed into the back. But she didn't sit beside him. No, she settled onto his lap, her arms around his neck.

"Fuck," Jake hissed as he looked at her. There was no telling how much he'd wanted this. "Are we gonna fuck to Slow Ride?"

She played with the hair at the back of his neck as she ground her hips against his own. "I dunno, Hangman. Do you want me to ride you to Slow Ride?"

He swallowed thickly and nodded his head. That was all she needed to hear. Her lips hesitantly attached to his own and his hands settled on her hips. Jake let her take control. He let her set the pace, let her decide how the kiss was going. Before too long she was kissing down his neck and undressing him in the back seat of her car.

Jake couldn't believe it. Here he was, fucking her in his car. He let out a hiss at the feeling of teeth against his neck.

Suddenly, she removed her hands from around his neck and reached between them. She popped the button on his jeans and immediate freed his cock.

Fuck, he was big. But, compared to the rest of him it was unsurprising. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft as she returned her lips to his.

The way Jake was gripping her hips, it was bruising. He reached under her skirt, touching her ass. Squeezing and groping, listening to her little whines and moans as she jacked him off.

The moment her thumb swiped over his tip, Jake ripped the material of the tights covering her ass. He hadn't meant to, just want to pull them down. But he couldn't help it. It was just so fucking good.

As soon as her tights were ripped, it was easy enough to slip his fingers beneath her panties. She was so goddamn wet. And those noises! They were music to Jakes ears.

"Goddamn, sweets," he grunted. The moment he touched her folds, her movements stopped. "So fucking wet f' me." His finger touched her clit and her body fell against his own. "Gonna ride me to Slow Ride?"

Her whines were desperate as she frantically lined his cock up with her entrance. She sank down onto him, eyes rolling back. "Holy Fuck," he grunted.

"Jake," she mewed desperate, her body against his own. He was so goddamn big, she didn't know how she was taking all of him. "Wanna move."

Jake immediately understood. She wanted to ride him, but she couldn’t move. He gripped her hips once again and began moving her, bouncing her on his cock.

It wasn't a slow ride. Not in the slightest. Her cunt just felt too good squeezing him, he couldn't slow down.

When Jake got her moving at her own rhythm, he pulled her shirt over her head, revealing her chest. Jake kissed her. He kissed down her chest until he got to what wasn't being covered by her bra.

As Jake got closer and closer, he wrapped his arms around her moved her body, her body limp against his. Her cries and whines were continuous, unbroken against the skin on his shoulder. She clenched around him, eyes shut as she came. But she was so out of it, so drunk on his cock, she hardly noticed.

"That's it, sweets," Jake mumbled as he kissed the side of her head. "I'm almost there."

And, seconds later Jake was cumming, his climax taking over him as he gripped her tight. "Fuck, fuck," he grunted, stilling her.

But he didnt pull out of her. He kept his arms around him as she laid against his chest, kissing the sweaty skin there. "That was incredible," she whispered as her body began to shake and shiver.

"We'll have to do that again, uh, sweets? He asked abd she nodded in agreement.

[spiritsdiary]

— PRAISE with QIMIR/THE STRANGER

wc: 786 | content: p in v smut, i was again reasonably tipsy while writing this

❛❛good.” he breathes the word into the skin of your shoulder, watching intently as you work.

you wonder if he does it on purpose; if he’s feigning complete obliviousness to how suggestive he sounds. like right now— saying good like that when all you’ve done is properly mix a poison the way he taught you. maybe it’s because you’re a quick study when your reward is him.

when you first met qimir, you thought he was just like every other apothecary owner you utilized when necessary: clumsy, generally oblivious, a drunk who saw nothing wrong with being intoxicated before noon. to your defense, he played the part very well. it was only when you mentioned that you’d be extending your stay for a while and could use some work that you started to see the cracks in his facade.

spending so much time with him gave you a glimpse into his true persona— something darker, yes, but instead of scaring you off, it drew you in. you had a feeling that there was more to him underneath his baggy clothes and perpetually messy hair, but you never thought that all you’d have to do was let him teach you his trade in order to find out what more was.

“good,” he says again now as you insert the stopper into the vial of poison. “that’s perfect.”

you chew on your lip as you think about the last time he said that to you. “anything else you need from me?”

he hums, fiddling with the material of your sleeve at your wrist. “stay while i close up?”

you never understand how he’s able to get you to do what he wants so easily until you’re in bed with him.

his arms are so much more built than you’d imagined, his whole body really, and the first time he used that hidden strength to get you exactly where he wanted you, the words “thank you” genuinely slipped past your lips. you told yourself you were thanking the maker.

you do a lot of thanking the maker these days.

he moves differently in bed than he does in all other aspects of his life. here, he’s fluid, powerful, commanding. and he spares no detail.

“yes, yesyesyes,” he moans out when you sink down on him, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to leave bruises, slowly beginning to guide you back and forth. “just like this. you know how to do it.”

your hands are gripping his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him while he clutches at your back, and your hips seem to move with a will of their own. you don’t care if it exhausts you. if his pleasure is at your own expense.

“there you go, pretty girl,” he says, voice deep with desire, passion, for you. “let me see how good you are.”

you lean forward and press your lips to his, let him pry you open with his tongue, pull depraved sounds from your mouth. his hips cant up into yours as you do everything he taught you, everything that you know makes him feel good.

it makes you feel good too, knowing you’ve earned every gasp and moan and touch he gives you. he’s a different animal when it’s just the two of you, and you love knowing that you’re the only one that can bring it out of him.

“qimir,” you whine into his mouth, right when he hits that spot inside of you that has you seeing white. “good?”

you need to hear him say it. he needs to tell you.

“so good. so warm, so tight, so beautiful, fuck—” his hand is between your legs, thumb brushing you with practiced ease. “always my good girl.”

“only me?” you can’t think properly, not when it feels this good, this right to be so close to him, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, soul to soul with the way he reads your mind.

he nods, pushes your hair back from your face.

“only ever you.” he says it with such a passionate intensity, his dark eyes searching yours.

it sets you aflame, has you crying out mere moments later, collapsing into him as he gives you everything he has to give.

there’s something darker inside of him. a deep, yearning darkness prowling under his skin, simmering in his bones. you can practically feel it as you slide a hand over his chest, his pounding heart. like it’s calling to you.

“you always do so good for me,” he’s whispering into your hair, letting you press yourself against him. “sometimes i think i dreamt you up.”

you smile, kissing his neck just to make him shiver.

maybe there’s something darker inside of you too.

m.list

© spiritsdiary 2024. do not repost without permission.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! This is my first time ever sending a request before, so bear with me. I was hoping you could do a best friend! James with no boundaries where he and female reader are cuddling and somehow end up fucking lol. Like. They both see it as simply helping each other out as best friends do, but the way they speaking and actions is obviously saying otherwise. Either reader or James (I don’t mind) would be super comforting and praising the other, and caressing their waist absentmindedly. It’s been on my mind for says now and I just had to ask LMAO.

Thanks for requesting!

cw: smut mdni, "casual" sex with no feelings talk (sorry), oral (f receiving), p in v

bestfriend!James x fem!reader ♡ 1.9k words

You’d never be watching this series if it weren’t for James. It’s science fiction, a low production budget met with poorly written lines, but your deceptively nerdy best friend gobbles it all up without reservations. You’re three seasons deep and losing interest fast, half asleep during the big battle scene. 

James is running his thumb absently over your arm, not really helping matters. His shoulder is warm and the material of his shirt soft under your cheek, your legs curled up against his thigh. There’s a bone-deep contentedness and a slow, oozing warmth that make your eyes slip closed. 

“Are you asleep?” James' voice is soft, not meant to really rouse you if you are. 

You crack your eyelids to find you’ve slipped halfway down his bicep. “No,” you mumble. 

“Mm, I didn’t think so.” He gives your arm a playful squeeze. “I said to myself, ‘Sleep through the season finale of our favorite show? No, she’d never do that.’” 

“And you were right.” You sit up, your neck aching from the cruel angle. Scoot closer to him. “I would never do that.” 

“That would be ridiculous.” James’ voice is warm with amusement and affection. He adjusts his grip on you, helping you to get closer and more upright. Your entire side is pressed up against his. “And during the big battle scene, too.” 

You wind your arms around his middle, feeling the familiar ridges of muscles beneath his shirt. “Yeah, doesn’t sound like me.” You shuffle your legs closer to him. Until your thigh is almost entirely in his lap, until you brush up against something you shouldn’t. James tenses.

“Oh.” You retract your leg quickly. 

James brings his own leg closer to his bulge, and you look up at him with wide eyes. 

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” James looks pained. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.” A little laugh gusts out of him. “No, sweetheart, you’re alright. I’m just a bit embarrassed.” 

You shake your head, eager to absolve him. “Don’t worry about it.” 

But it’s impossible to ignore the ache that discovering his erection has started between your own legs. The slow, oozing warmth you’d felt before and thought nothing of is now much more obvious. 

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” James says. “It’s just that we’re cuddling, and it’s been a while, so—” 

“James. It’s really fine.” 

He gives you an imploring look. “Promise you don’t feel weird about it?” 

“Yeah,” you say, lifting one shoulder awkwardly. “It’s…I get it.” 

You hoped that would be enough for him, but you should have known better than to expect James to drop it after you’ve said something like that. 

“You do?” he asks. Surprised, curious. 

“I…yeah.” You try to keep your tone blasé, though you can’t look at him. You’re not about to admit to the wetness you can feel pooling in your underwear. “I mean, it’s been a while for me too. The cuddling is nice.” 

“Yeah?” James looks at you, and you feel the touch of it everywhere. 

You rub your lips together. “Yeah.” 

“Well, if it doesn’t bother you, we could keep on, then.” James relaxes back into the couch, your arms having never moved from around him. His arm settles over your shoulders again. But you can’t stop looking at the bulge in his pants. Large and insistent and mere inches from your thigh. 

“We could…” Your voice is soft, part of you maybe hoping he won’t hear you. “We could always help each other out.” 

James stays perfectly still underneath you. “Is that something you want?” 

“If you do.” 

Your voice is tight with nerves. James’ thumb begins sweeping over your upper arm again, comforting you on instinct.

“Hey,” he says lightly, “don’t make any sacrifices on my account.” 

You huff a laugh. “I’m not.” 

He sits up, looking at you. “Okay.” 

“It can be totally casual,” you say quickly. “We don’t ever have to talk about it again.” 

“Are you sure you want to?” 

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you nod.

“Alright.” James’ big hands soothe up and down your arms. He considers you. “How do you want it?” 

“Wh…what do you mean?” 

He smiles. “I mean, did you have something in mind?”

“Oh.” Your brain is all staticy. “Um, not really. Whatever you want.” 

James gives you another easy perusal. You try not to shiver, more than used to his complete lack of self-consciousness but unfamiliar with the heady feel it takes on in this context. Slowly, intention solidifies in his gaze. He takes off his glasses, placing them on the coffee table. 

“Tell me if I do anything you don’t want, yeah?” 

You barely have time to squeak out an okay before he’s pulling down your trousers and your underwear with it. He takes one leg in each hand and spreads them open, exposing the slickness between. 

“Oh.” There’s an edge of teasing to his sympathetic tone as he dips down to kiss beside the source. “Oh, poor girl. Seems like it really has been a while.” 

You gasp out a laugh, nerves frenzied at the spectacular oddity of James’ mouth on your inner thigh. “Get fucked.” 

“Ladies first.” You nearly whimper when his breath fans over your cunt. “By the looks of it you need it more anyway.” 

You can’t muster a retaliation, but James doesn’t seem to hold it against you. He presses a soft, gentle kiss to your sex, getting a feel for it before diving in. You cry out and fist a hand in the mop of his curls, and James takes the outside of your thigh in his hand, giving the flesh an approving squeeze. 

“You’re actually quite lovely down here,” he mumbles conversationally, whilst alternating his attention between your hole and your clit like he’s sampling a buffet, “in case you didn’t know.” 

“Thanks,” you pant. 

“S’very nice.” His nose bumps up through your folds, and you make a pleady, wanton sound, pushing your hips up into him. 

“How…” You’re breathless, struggling to think through the buzz of your brain. “How is this helping you?” 

James laughs. You nearly scream at the rumbling feel of it inside of you. “Oh, it’s helping me, sweetheart. Don’t worry.” 

“I—I—” Fuck, coherent speech is harder than it’s ever been. “I changed my mind.” 

Immediately, James stops. He looks up at you, brown eyes almost all black and glistening with arousal from nose to chin. “You have?” 

You nod, panting. “Yeah. I know what I want.” 

His expression relaxes. “Oh. What’s that?” 

“I want you.” It feels like blasphemy to say. You’re half worried that James is going to laugh at you, back away, say that all of this was fine but now you’ve taken things too far. “In me.” 

James smiles. There’s no teasing in it, only eagerness and a pleasant sort of surprise. 

“Well,” he says, “it’s a good thing we’ve started here then, but I’m still not sure if you’re ready for me.” 

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Oh, get over yourself.” 

“Oi,” James gives your thigh a squeeze, “don’t be mean. I’m serious.”

You give him a deadpan look. You know James is big. He’s a big guy in general, and you’ve seen him in his boxers, slept pressed up against him. Still, you can’t imagine it’s that imposing. 

“I think I can handle it.” 

James sucks on his bottom lip. “Okay,” he says after a moment, “we can give it a try, but don’t be shy about telling me if it’s too much, alright?”

You scoff. “I won’t.” 

He chuckles at you as sits up on his knees, undoing his trousers. “Just don’t be a martyr, babe.” 

“You’re so full of it.” 

But as he does away with his boxers and his length springs free, your confidence wavers. James lowers himself over you, watching you carefully as he lays down with his forearms bracketing your head. 

“This alright for you?” he asks, voice gentling some. You nod, but he doesn’t move, studying you. “You’re okay?” 

You swallow, finding your voice. “Yeah.” 

“You sure? We don’t have to.” 

“No, I want to.” You say it in a rush, but as soon as it comes out you realize how true it is. “I want to.” 

James must see the sincerity of it in your face, because he nods. “Okay.” He brushes his cock up through your folds, and you take a surprised inhale. It feels like a caress. “Tell me if it’s too much.” 

He pushes into you slowly, his own face tightening while he keeps a close eye on yours. You let your eyes flutter shut, your legs falling further open for him. A low, needy sound rises in your throat. 

When James pauses, you almost cry. “Keep going,” you tell him. 

“Fine, fine, take it easy.” The amusement is easy to hear in his voice, as is something else, something warmer and sweeter. “I only wanted to check in on you. You’re taking it so well, sweetheart.” 

One of his hands finds your waist as he goes deeper, big palm moving up and down your side, an absentminded comfort. You relax at the touch, and it’s what he needs. James bottoms out inside of you. 

You don’t have time to adjust to the feel of it before his mouth falls down onto yours, warm and soft and tasting of sex. You moan softly, and James encourages your bottom lip into his mouth, suckling devoutly like he had at your clit. After a few seconds, he breaks the kiss as if nothing happened. As if it’s something you do every day.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says, caressing your cheek. “I wish you could see. Does that feel good, lovely?” 

Ridiculously, you’re so focussed on his hand on your face that it takes you a second to remember he’s talking about his cock. 

“Yeah,” you say honestly. “Feels really good.” 

“Good.” He starts rocking his hips back and forth, an easy, gentle pace. His lips find your neck, parting wetly over your skin. “You feel so good, sweetheart. So perfect for me.” 

You realize when his chin brushes your collar that you’re still wearing your shirt, which feels bizarre. Then you wonder when not wearing a shirt around James began to feel like the only logical option. 

You lose your train of thought quickly when his hand slips underneath it again, soothing up and down your side as he moves in and out of you. He sucks bruises that feel like blessings into your skin, holds one of your hands in his own, groans when your fingernails dig into his shoulder. 

You breathe his name, and he says yours in between kisses, along with sweetheart and darling and my pretty girl. His voice is familiar, safe and warm, but the peaceful spell he’s putting you under isn’t something you can explain. His body fits to you like it’s what you were both made for.

You sigh when it’s over, pulling James down and letting him melt into you. You don’t pretend you came like you have with other guys, but you feel more satisfied than you ever have. 

You cup his face in your hand, and he turns his head, kissing your palm. Your brain feels like soup. 

“So.” Your voice comes out a whisper. “Did that help?” 

James’ laughter is deep and warm. “Yeah, lots. What about you?” 

“Mhm.” 

He watches you for a while, playing with your fingers in his. It’s not a dubious look, only happy. Fond. 

A sound effect from the television gets your attention, and you turn to look at it. “We missed the season finale,” you say weakly. 

“Yeah.” James doesn’t move his eyes from you. “We’re going to have to rewind and watch it from the beginning, I think.” 

“Oh, awesome. Can’t wait.”

[jhopezwrld]

summers in the air, heavens in your eyes

pairing: jack schlossberg x reader

summary: sex on the beach with your boyfriend jack

wc: 1.3k

warnings: smut!!! oral (f receiving), swearing, p in v sex, kinda public sex (pls do not have sex in public or on the beach u will get sand in ur vajayjay), terrible ending

a/n: WELL... listen i've been in love with jack schlossberg since like 2016 and everyone is finally realizing he's hot as fuck so here we are and i have no regrets. enjoy sinners <3

minors do not interract plz! xoxo

the air was thick and warm, the humidity making your hair stick to the back of your neck. your boyfriend jack lay beside you on his back. his eyes are shut as he basks in the sunlight. there are streaks of white on his cheeks from the sunscreen you slathered on him before he ran out to the ocean, eager to surf. a headband you lent him pushed his dark hair back, and his soft skin was now slightly darker than when you arrived that morning. 

“i can feel you staring at me, y’know.” 

he says, reaching a hand over to pinch your soft thigh. you giggle and playfully smack his arm. “didn’t realize it was weird to stare at my boyfriend.” you retort. he cracks his eyes open and turns his head to look at you. he smiles softly and opens his arms, beckoning you to sit on top of him. you comply, moving so you’re now straddling him. his large hands find home on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into the skin there. 

“hi, pretty girl.” he moves a hand to cup your cheek and tugs you down to kiss him. your mouths meet gently, moving in tandem. his tongue prods at the seam of your lips and you open them for him. he explores the inside of your mouth, groaning at your taste. “tastes like strawberry.” he mumbles between kisses.

the hand lying stagnant on your hip moves to the tie holding your bikini bottoms together, twirling the strands between his fingers. you pull away and his head chases you, silently asking for more. “jack, we’re technically in public, anyone could see us like this…” you tell him and he rolls his eyes. jack sits up and you shift down on his lap. he brings his mouth to the shell of your ear, licking it before whispering to you “seems pretty empty to me, baby.”

you look around, doing a sweep of the area to make sure it is truly empty. the beach was mostly private, a secluded location in front of the beach house that jack had rented for the weekend for the both of you. there was no one as far as your eyes could see. technically, you were on private property. if anyone saw you two together, it was practically trespassing. throwing all of your worries away, you lean back into him, connecting your mouths once more. 

he smiles into the kiss, pulling you as close to him as possible. his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you directly on top of his arousal. you groan at the feeling and grind your hips further into him. before you can protest, he flips the both of you, lying you on your back. he moves his mouth to your neck, lathering hot and wet kisses and leaving purple blemishes in his wake. he shifts down slightly, pressing kisses into your collarbones and between the valley of your breasts. 

his hands again reach for your bottoms, and jack looks up at you for permission. as soon as you nod, he slides them down your hips and slips them off, throwing them onto your towel. his hand slides up the length of your thigh, stopping at the innermost part. he hums and leans down, pressing a kiss to your pubic bone. “so pretty down here, honey.” he mutters to himself. 

with that, he devours you. his tongue snakes out to caress your clit. one hand holds your hips steady, while the other slithers down to your slit, slipping his middle finger inside of you. the pleasure you feel is burning hot, a fire that begins to burn in the pit of your stomach. a strangled cry wrings its way from your lips as jack adds a second finger. his fingers move earnestly, knowing exactly what you like and how to drag you to your peak. 

“please, jack. it’s so good. i’m so close” you whine, pushing your hips into his warm mouth. he doubles his efforts at that, sucking your clit into his mouth and quickening his fingers. you bring a hand down to his soft hair, pushing his headband off. his dark locks fall into his eyes, but you’re quick to hold them back yourself. he moans into you as you tug at the strands. 

“c’mon, sweet girl. cum for me, lemme taste it.” 

and you do. your orgasm rips through you almost violently. your hips twitch and your moans are unrestrained. his mouth relaxes and instead presses soft kisses against you as you float back to earth. he travels up the length of your body until he reaches your face, kissing your temple, cheek, and the corner of your mouth before kissing your lips. you could taste yourself on his tongue. 

his hips press into you, grinding into your naked body. he brings a hand down to quickly pull off his bottoms, jerking himself off quickly before spreading your legs. aligning himself with your hole, he pushes into you slowly, allowing you time to get used to his impressive girth. it was no secret that jack was extremely well-endowed, and no matter how many times you had sex with him, it was always an adjustment in the beginning. 

he eases into you slowly until his pubic bone is flush with your ass. he pulls back steadily, rocking back into you with restraint. “s’good, baby?” he asks. his accent is thick and his words are slurred slightly as he loses himself in pleasure. you nod, wrapping your arms around his neck. “it’s so good, you’re so big.”

jack speeds up his movements, slamming into you. his breathy moans invade your ears and you can feel him twitching inside of you. he pulls out of you and taps your thigh, signaling you to change positions. he lays on his back as you throw your thighs over his hips, pushing yourself down onto him again. 

he throws his head back, gripping your hips with a bruising force. if you weren’t so fucked out, you’d tell him to ease up so as not to leave finger-shaped bruises in your skin that could be so easily spotted. but the only thing that was on your mind was bringing the both of you to your orgasms, so you got to work. planting your feet, you begin to bounce on him. he thrusts his hips in time with your movements, pushing into the soft spot hidden inside of your walls. 

“god, baby. you’re so good at this. just made for me, huh? perfect little pussy that only i get to fuck.” 

you clench your thighs around his waist as you feel your climax approaching. “yeah, i’m made for you, jack. m’your girl forever.” you gasp. as if he can sense how close you are, he brings a hand up to your clit, rubbing it in quick and tight circles. he pounds his hips furiously in time with your movements. you feel him spasm inside of you, warm spurts of his spend painting your walls. that brings you to your second orgasm, convulsing above him. 

you collapse onto his chest, attempting to catch your breath. he wraps a weak arm around you, breathing heavily into your ear. the two of you come down in silence. as your breathing evens out, he presses a loving kiss on the crown of your head. “you ok, baby?” he whispers into your neck. “tired” you mumble, nestling farther into him. he tightens his hold on you before shifting to sit up, still inside of you. 

“let’s get you inside, sleepy head. we can take a nap together.” 

he lifts you off of him, and you whine at the sudden emptiness you feel. he pulls up his swim trunks and stands, grabbing your towel and wrapping you in it, guiding you back into the house to lay down and enjoy the rest of your peaceful evening together.

[admirxation]

彡 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝐧𝐝 - 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤

♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦. Nanami puts you in your place during an argument (wc: 2.2k)

𝐜𝐰 — afab!reader x Kento Nanami. 18+ smut mdni, porn without plot, arguments (miscommunication and lowkey toxic), hair pulling, brat taming, reader calls Nanami daddy, tongue pinching (you’ll know), makeup sex, p in v, unprotected sex, slight degrading, and creampie -> you’ve been warned; continue at your own discretion.

Arguments in a relationship are normal, right? Everyone says that. Relationships tend to go through a pattern with predictable human behaviour, and there’s, more often than not, a grace period when people are at their utmost happiness for the first three months—the honeymoon stage, as they call it. For the first three months, the couple enjoy the new and unique feeling of being in love, but if there is a facade and keeping your best version up front, that soon crumbles with how it’s proven that no one can keep up a facade for that long with someone whose suppose to be intimate with you in every way. 

You and Nanami managed to get through that stage; you two had been together for years, but you two had your fair share of arguments, and they got heated. It would always start as something small; maybe someone left something out, someone didn’t like the other’s tone, or whatever petty thing the other would pick up on, and that small thing would soon catalyst an explosion of arguments. Fair enough, they always managed to get sorted out eventually, but it was still exhausting to be in the process before forgiveness and making up. 

It was another argument between you two that started as something small but, as always, escalated into something much bigger and unnecessary with the tension between you two. It started as a comment, but soon it morphed with a misstep, careless word, clumsy phrasing here, and boom, it spiralled quickly into something much deeper than it originally started. 

You stood in the middle of your bedroom, arms crossed over your chest and your heart pounding harder with every bitter word that fell from his mouth and hung in the air. His voice cut through with sharp and precise stabs, but his pacing gets you, the way he moves back and forth, and the way he looks at you with that smug stare—it infuriates you, thinking he’s always right. That previous calm and collected facade had soon cracked, and part of you wanted it to shatter completely with how smug he was, wanting to prove that you were in the right and he was muttering utter nonsense to you. You felt the heat rise within you, feeling the hot liquid thrum through your veins and a loud heart throbbing pulsate in your ears as you watched that face. When he slowed down in his words, you wanted to say what had been bubbling up, wanting it to boil over as your chest rose and fell quickly in your quickened breathing pattern. 

You shouldn’t say it; you know it upsets him. But it’s the only thing that gets through his stubborn head. 

“You’re honestly so pathetic sometimes.” You bit out; those words slipped out, venomous and heavy and laced with every ounce of your frustration you had been holding onto the more he went on and on about how he thought he was right. But the moment those words hung in the air between you two, thick and sharp, you felt your pulse quicken as you saw his stare darken.

Nanami froze, his entire posture stiffening as he breathed out in heavy grunts. He hated it when you used that word, ‘pathetic’; it wasn’t just a word; it was something that hit a bit too close to home, and you knew it hit him right in the heart. Hence, he hated it even more when you knowingly used it, and you wanted his reaction. He lifted his cold hazel gaze to meet yours, your breath hitching and feeling a lump in your throat as if all the hair had been kicked out of you, seeing the intensity of his gaze like glass ready to shatter. Your heart hammered against your ribcage, and you felt the heat rising in your cheeks, spreading like wildfire under your skin, your heart pumping through trepidation—you knew you went too far this time, but seeing his reaction was thrilling. 

“What… did you… just say to me?” his voice was low, calculating, and careful, and had an uneasy calmness to it, the kind of quiet afterwards that just made your stomach twist both in fear and anticipation; he had the control now, and the dynamic was switched, even if your intention was the one to inflict the pain. 

You swallowed, trying to hold onto the leftover pride and determination in your system as you met his gaze. Your chin tilted upward as you looked at his piercing stare, which seemed to split right through you. 

“Say it again… I dare you,” he said with that same tone. 

“I… You’re…” 

The tension between you was unbearable now, thick enough to choke on. You could feel it in the pit of your stomach, the weight of your words pressing down and making you feel nauseous. All you could think of was how mistaken you were to make that comment, but you couldn’t back down now when you made that comment with full confidence and a hurtful intention. You shouldn’t have done it or pulled back, but you didn’t—it was too late. 

While you stood there, a stuttering mess, your eyes widened as Nanami, in one fluid motion, strode in front of you with his hand reaching out; with rough intention, his fingers threaded through your hair and tugged you forward with a sharp tug at the base of your hair in a punishing pull to his face. You gasped and winced in response, your scalp stinging under his pulling grip, with the sudden proximity forcing you to tip your head to meet that piercing gaze. The world felt narrow, feeling like time stood still with how you were attuned to your heartbeat, loud in your ears, the sync of your rushing blood. 

His breath was hot against your skin, dancing in its warm swirls against your lips. He was close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the tension rolling off his body into colliding waves for you to be the victim of. His lips hovered near your ear, and his voice sent a sinister shiver down your spine, low and dangerous in his growl: “Say it again… Since you’re so brave.” 

Your breath was caught in your throat; your defiance and previous bratty attitude had faltered and made back into his girl that he could do anything he wanted with; how silly of you to think you had the upper hand; when did you ever? The heat between you two was grounding, bringing you into the reality of your words' weight and intensity as he squeezed harder onto the base of your strands. 

Your lips parted, but for once, the words didn’t come easily; your lip was quivering as you tried to find the right way to apologise, to stop the stinging sensation running from your head and through your body. As you made him wait for your words, the tips of his fingers pinched your tongue, forcing it out and making your eyes roll up to meet his gaze; he loved seeing you all vulnerable, having someone actually have your tongue, but you weren’t exactly speaking so you weren’t using it to explain yourself, might as well tease you some more. 

“Aw, you’re not so confident now, are you,” he teased with that sensitive smirk, “look at you… stupid girl, you really thought you had the upper hand, you little brat.” He quickly let go, making you wince at the pain. 

“I’m sorry, Kento, I-I just wanted to—”

“You thought you could upset me, using what I hate and distracting me to think you could be right… But you’re not, sweetheart; you’re in the wrong and must be put in your place.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry; you know I love you,” you continued to plead. 

“Oh, look, who's the pathetic one now?” a breath of amusement came out with that pairing smirk. “I love you too, sweetheart, but I don’t think we’ll sweep this under the rug.” 

His hand squeezed harder on your strands. You knew what he wanted. This always happens when he’s got you by the locks, all vulnerable and having to plead for his forgiveness. 

“Say it.”

“But—”

“Do you want forgiveness or not… Because I can go much harder,” he started to pull further, making tears form in your tear ducts; it was painful, but a sort of satisfying pain as he only pulled from the base and continued to stare at you with eyes full of irritation and anger, but also, arousal from seeing you in such a compromising position—you didn’t realise how sexy you looked when your bratty self had been put in its place. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he tilted his head in anticipation. “I’m sorry, Daddy. Please forgive me. I know it was wrong,” you whimpered out, and he left a kiss on your forehead. 

“See, was that so hard?” 

“No, Daddy.” 

His free hand then trailed on your soft neck, his fingers trickling over the curve of your skin and letting his fingers squeeze at the sides, making you gasp and your pupils dilate as you looked at him with a bitten lip; he loved seeing how desperate you would get if he would touch you just right. 

“How about we make up now… You’ve been stubborn long enough now, haven’t you?” he smirked at you as his tall frame hovered over you, backing you up until the back of your legs backed into the bed and made you fall onto the silk sheets, having him crawl up inbetween your legs as you watched him with anticipating eyes. “You wanna make up now?” 

“Yes,” he waited for what he wanted as he squeezed a little harder on your neck, “Yes… I wanna make up, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl, glad she’s returned to her senses.” 

He let go of your neck and let his hands trail down your body, grinding his already hardened tent into your clothed pussy and watching you quiver, his fingertips moving over your breasts, leaving a slow and hard squeeze on your mounds before trailing down and pulling you underneath.

“Oh, wet already, are we? Dirty girl getting wet,” he looked up at you, biting your lip in anticipation, “you like it when I put you in your place, don’t you?”

“Mmhm, yes, Daddy, s-so much,” you stuttered out through chewed lips. 

He flung your soaked underwear to the side, letting it drop to the carpeted floor, before dragging his pants down and letting his erect clock slap onto your puffy clit. He let out another breath of amusement as he watched you jump and shiver, watching his cock start to grind between your wet folds; you couldn’t help but look forward to this, Nanami was mean when it came to pounding that pussy of yours, but that pain felt so satisfying with how he bashed into your sweet spot every single time. 

“Who owns this pretty pussy, baby?” he asks as his thumb circles over your sensitive and puffy clit, making you squirm under his touch as he keeps a rough pressure on your sensitive button. 

“You do, Daddy.” 

“Good girl.” 

He made you stifle out those sweet little moans the more his cock rutted inside of you, feeling your gummy insides pulsate and clench around his shaft as he thrusted in and out, his balls slapping against the fat of your ass as he watched you squirm and writhe. Your eyes were practically rolled up to heaven, only showing the whites as you babbled out pornographic moans while he made you his girl over and over again with every buck of his hip, making you so much wetter as you watched him look at your pussy being rammed right into, making you get accustomed to his length as your lips stretched around the base to make a creamy ring around the shaft. 

“Dirty, girl, you love it when daddy uses you, don’t you?”

“Mmhmm, ahh~”

“You have a mouth; use your words; you’re not that stupid, are you?”

“I… ahh fuck… Yes, I love it when you nngh fuck me like this, Daddy, ahh you feel amazing,” your toes curled as you tightened your thighs around his waist, feeling your whole body start to burn up through your laboured breaths as he looked at you with that dangerous look, finding too much pleasure and satisfaction when your tongue was out like a panting puppy and your mascara all smudged, ruining that pretty canvas—all because of him.

“You learnt your lesson about having a smart mouth now, you little slut,” he punctuated his last words with a hard thrust, making your back arch toward him, clinging onto the bedsheets with your fingers as you released your juice all over his cock; feeling the warmth trickle down your thighs as he fucked his dick right into that sweet spot that made you his bitch over and over again. 

“Yes, yes, I have daddy, I’m so, so, sorry... Mmmmm, can you please cum Daddy?” 

“My pathetic girl, you should be like this more.” He teased as he gave you a little pinch on the cheek as he rutted his hips further into you, the tip of his cock continually bashing into your vulnerable cervix before he shot his load into you, gasping and trying to keep track of a normal breathing pattern before he pulled his length out and watched a mixture of yours and his cum spill out of your spent and needy hole.

taglist: @bratbby333 @styrofoamplat3s @wintrrxxo @sleazymac-n-cheesy @localkiss -> check my pinned post for taglist ink and if you want to be deleted just message me privately.

a/n: day two of kinktober woop woop, and this was definitely inspired by the hair pulling scene that made me do a double take on Nanami haha. btw I am sorry if I post too late, I'm kinda busy with masters and I don't get back home until 9:15pm on weekdays and I come back needing to eat, shower, clean the house, homework etc. so I will try my absolute best but just for a warning.

[lady-lauren]

❥ SILVERS RAYLEIGH X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 1.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: daddy kink, age gap, established fuck-buddy relationship, Rayleigh is a dirty old man who calls you kid, inappropriate use of haki, did he once upon a time take your v card? of course he did, creampie

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

The tide always brings you back, no matter how hard you push against it. An enrapturing, enigmatic pull into an embrace that smells like memories.

Rayleigh is too self-satisfied as his calloused fingertips trace over scars he remembers exactly the stories behind. Some he gave, some he saw etched by your naive bravery.

“Been too long, kid. Was startin’ to miss you.”

The bar is closed but your legs are open, spread wide across his lap with your knees sinking into the velvet couch.

“I told you I wasn’t coming back.” 

Yet your hands are in his hair, twisting silver locks into knots and pulling, tugging until he smirks and brushes his lips to yours. Heavy hands press your naked hips down against his cock, the thick heat of him smearing between your folds. 

“You always come back to Daddy.” 

Sinking down onto his cock makes film reels roll behind your eyes. The first time he took you was just like this, only slower, gentler, rocking your hips to the sway of a ship. Now he pushes into you with purpose, passion, like he knows just where he belongs. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans into your neck, glasses glinting and slipping down his nose. 

Muscular arms do the work he wants, fisting the fat of your ass and bouncing you in his lap. 

Your head falls back at the warm pleasure, cunt stretching and squishing from every push into your heat.

“Sh-shit, Rayleigh,” you breathe out as your clit brushes against silver curls, the sensation making your eyesight glassy. You try to focus on the cracks in the ceiling, not the feel of him stretching inside of you, yet lose your concentration when his lips find the perfect spot on your neck to suck.

You feel small against his chest as he pulls you closer, tighter, thrusting deep enough to make you hiccup from bliss. 

Rolling your hips to match his pace, you sink yourself farther down his cock, bucking to chase your pleasure.

“Atta girl.” Rayleigh swipes his hot tongue up your arched neck. 

Your nails scrape down his shoulders, the smell of his skin filtering into the scent of sex.

You know his body like he knows yours; you know to press your tits to his chest, to wait for the grumble he gives at the feel of your hard nipples before leaning forward to kiss your way up the stitching scar that curls over his pectoral. 

His cock twitches in your depths and you feel his cockhead thump against your walls. He pushes and pulls, groaning when your nails find the defined muscles of his sides. 

Bodies fall into a comfortable rhythm, your head lolling against his shoulder as you take what he gives. It’s as if he fucks you to your quickening heartbeat, every thrust drumming into your guts with perfect tempo.

The scruff of Rayleigh’s beard rubs against your cheek, looking for your attention. 

“What’s on your mind?” He bounces you a bit harder in his lap, thumbs digging into the crease of your hips. “Tell Daddy.” 

His voice is like warm water dripping down carefully placed stones, so casual yet poignant. He won’t rest until you give him what he wants. 

Distracting yourself by kissing up his neck, you taste his sweat and move your fingers to his hair. 

You catch your breath between the shoves of his cock, “I…” you moan deep, “always end up here.” With him, in his arms, with his cock pressed so deeply you feel it days later. 

“You know why,” he smirks as he leans you back, gripping your ribcage between careful hands, thumbs brushing against the undersides of your breasts.

The change in angle on his lap has his cock smoothing against the back of your cunt, cockhead nudging your soft spots with every plunge. 

You shake your head in a bit of defiance, content to just feel him, not to think.

“Do I need to make you say it?” 

The lopsided grin that splits his face makes a thrill run down your spine. He looks devious, like the Dark King is ready to play. 

After a few beats of slick silence, Rayleigh moves forward, putting a big palm between your bouncing tits and pushing until your back hits the low table behind you.

He leaves your body only for a moment. He gets on his knees on the fraying rug before spearing his thick cock back into your cunt, the quick thrust making you slide against wood.

“Fuuuuck,” you hiss, hands flying above your head to grip the edge of the table for stability. 

Silver hair falls over your face as he kisses you, a little frenzied as he falls into the pleasure of being able to put more force into his thrusts. One hand grabs your breast while the other flattens over your stomach, pushing down until he can feel himself moving inside of you. 

“God, you feel so good, Daddy,” the title is always heavy in your mouth, like an admission of guilt, “make me feel so, so good.” 

“That’s right.” Rayleigh’s thighs slap against the table as he picks up his pace. “No one’s better than your first, hm?” 

Grunting, his massive body straightens, both hands finding a home on your hips. 

“I ruined you for anyone else,” he reminds you every time you come back. The gleam in his eyes, darkened by the shade of his glasses, makes you squeeze around his pounding cock. 

“Oh shush, old man.” 

Yet you’re panting, sweat dripping down the back of your neck, pooling under your tits. Pleasure is spreading every time he presses into your core, rippling like webs underneath your skin. Everything is hot—the spread of your thighs, the grip in your knuckles, your ears listening to every deep moan he releases as he finds gratification in your body.

“Oh come on, kid,” Rayleigh tuts, snapping his hips a little harder. 

Long fingers move over your hips, both of his thumbs coming to press against your clit that aches every time his taut stomach presses against it. He keeps his pressure light, just enough to make you whine and jolt to where your head nearly hangs off the coffee table. 

“Ain’t no other man can do this to you.” 

He swirls both thumbs over your clit as he thrusts deep, pinning your hips with his strong hands to keep you from squirming away. The onslaught is quick, sharp, lights flashing behind your eyes. The coil of orgasm strikes your tummy like lightning, making you bite a scream between your teeth. 

“Shit, fuck!” 

Rayleigh grins and mumbles to himself, something about how he shouldn’t have taught you to have such a dirty mouth. 

You know the rules, he doesn’t even have to say them. You know if you want to burst, you’ll have to beg. 

Your throat feels dry from all your gasping and moaning, it takes a few passes of his cock in your cunt before you’re able to try and find your voice. 

“Please, please, Daddy, please, I need…” 

You can hear the table creaking under your weight, the legs scraping against the floor, leaving marks you’ll look at the next time you end up back in this bar. 

“Yeah? You can do bett—”

“God fuck Daddy please, fortheloveoffucking god, Rayleigh, make me cum!” 

Your words bleed together over the sound of his skin slapping against yours, sinking into the smell of salt and sea on his skin. 

He pauses, pulling your hips down until you hurt from being spread around him. Grinding his cock into you, you feel the lick of his haki slicing over your body, your mind, searing straight between your legs until his power and the rub of his fingers over your clit make you forget to breathe. 

Your cunt sucks so tightly that you can feel him throbbing within you, pulses of his cum mixing with the shattering of your orgasm. You crest and fall for what feels like eternity in just a few seconds. 

Your nails take chunks out of the table, his knees slip against the rug.

It’s not until you feel Rayleigh’s long hair spread across your chest that you realize where you are, what you’ve done, again.

“Welcome home, kid.”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | v. the confession

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel find peace after a hard day, but it doesn’t stay that way for long.

chapter rating: E (18+ only, MINORS DNI, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), unprotected piv, joel has a filthy mouth, appearance of this man’s obvious breeding kink, angst to end it all--may contain some typos but i can’t be bothered to check)

wc: 4.4k

series masterlist | previous chapter

The waiting room of the doctor’s office you were interviewing at for a temp job as an administrative assistant while you awaited replies from more long-term positions was bleak and empty. The cold space was bright with overhead fluorescent lighting, the soft hum of a court TV show pairing horribly with the soft clacks of the receptionist’s keyboard. It was the perfect recipe for a headache, if your earlier conversation with your father hadn’t already given you one. 

He’d been on your ass about keeping up with your chores, and though you admittedly had fallen behind on your end of the bargain, it wasn’t like you could tell him why you’d been too busy to chip in lately. 

I’ve been busy falling in love with your good friend, dad didn’t seem like a good way to get yourself back into his good graces. 

So, instead of prepping for your interview, you passive-aggressively tended to the sink full of dishes, only for him to switch gears and gripe that he didn’t mean you had to do them then and there. 

Just another reason why you needed to start earning some money of your own so that you could find a small place and put some much needed distance between you and your father. 

When the doctor and owner of the small practice finally called you back—twenty minutes past your agreed upon time—your head was pounding. If you hadn’t been so desperate to land a job, you might’ve slipped out at the five minute mark, but as it stood, you needed to see this shitty interview through. 

For your sanity. 

For some privacy. 

For the potential to not have to sneak out every night just to see Joel. 

JOEL

It had been a long fucking day. 

Between the incessant ache in his lower back from yesterday’s job putting up drywall and the shipment of tile for his latest contract—a suburban couple’s renovation of their first home together—arriving cracked, he was desperate to get home and doze away on the couch with a cold beer. 

Sarah was off at her friend’s house for the night, which meant he had the night to himself—unless you were able to sneak over and offer him some much welcomed company for the night. 

But he wasn’t counting on that fact, not when your dad had been there to watch Sarah pack her overnight bag into Mrs. Jacobs’ silver minivan earlier that morning. 

It didn’t stop him from hoping, nonetheless. 

As he pulled his pickup into his driveway, Joel was surprised to find the exact person he’d been hoping to see sitting on the front step of his place. He hopped out of the truck with a newfound purpose and tried to tame the boyish grin creeping onto his face as he took you in. You looked more corporate than you usually did, a pair of slacks and a button-down blouse taking the place of your usual t-shirt and jeans, but you looked no less beautiful than you always did. A natural, effortless thing that had every nerve in his body alight with the need to get his hands on you. 

“Hey,” you greeted him, a small smile lifting one corner of that mouth he loved so much. 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, scanning the cul de sac as he stepped up onto his porch. “Dressed to impress, I see.”

You huffed out a small laugh and rolled your eyes as you stood, keeping a bit of distance between the two of you in case anyone happened to be watching. A fact that he loathed with every bone in his body. 

“My key broke off in the front door,” you sighed, leaning against the wooden beam beside you. “My dad’s not going to be home until late tonight, and I didn’t feel like breaking in. Decided I’d slum it here until you got home.”

He stepped closer to you, his hand twitching with the urge to stroke his thumb over your cheek in hopes of turning your frown into one of those smiles he loved so much. “Need me to break in for ya?”

“You could,” you said, biting at your lip as you stared down at your nails. “Or we could go inside and you can help me forget about the shitty interview I just had.”

It was Joel’s turn to frown, despite the twitch he felt downstairs at the implication in your tone. “Didn’t get the job?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” you scoffed. “I don’t want it, though. The doctor was a total dick. Made some joke about finally having someone pretty behind the desk to greet him in the morning. I’d rather be broke and unemployed than have to work with that bullshit.”

“Want me to kick his ass?” Joel asked, reveling in the laugh his words earned. 

“No.” You smiled, lifting your eyes to meet his as the tip of your tongue slid out to wet your bottom lip. “I have better stuff in mind for you.”

Joel’s brown arched, a smirk lighting up his face. “Oh, yeah? And what might that be, darlin’?”

“Let me in and I’ll show you.” 

He didn’t need to be told twice. 

As soon as Joel shut and locked the door behind him, you were pressing him against the wall. 

Your lips found his ungracefully, but he didn’t seem to mind as he kissed you back with just as much unbridled need. It had been too long—three days now—since you’d gotten the chance to be truly alone with him. With Sarah at the house, the two of you had to be discreet and silent, and while it never hindered the pleasure you brought each other, it certainly dampened a bit of this passion you’d been yearning to feel. 

Joel groaned as he slipped his hands over your hips to squeeze your ass through your trousers, pressing you tighter to his body. You bit at his lower lip and let your own hands travel, one to the nape of his neck and one down to palm at the bulge imprisoned by his jeans. 

“Missed you all day, baby,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he guided you backwards towards the couch. “Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you.”

“Tell me what you were thinking about,” you panted, straddling his lap as he sat down and pulled you with him. 

“Thought about the way you looked when you were ridin’ me a couple nights ago,” he said, nipping at your jawline. “How you had to cover your mouth to keep quiet. Fuck, I got hard just thinkin’ about the sounds you make. Been too goddamn long since I heard ‘em. You gonna let me hear ‘em today, baby?”

“Fuck, yeah,” you moaned, grinding yourself against him as he started to unbutton your blouse, kissing each bit of skin he exposed along the way. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he praised, lathing his tongue over the swell of your breast as it sat pushed up by your bra. He peeled your shirt off your body and tossed it across the room before settling his big, warm hands on your waist, smoothing his rough palms across your smooth skin. “Wanna hear every fuckin’ thing.” 

Your back arched as he lowered his mouth to your breast, kissing and nipping at you through the thin lace of your bra. With a skilled flick of his fingers behind your back, he had the bra unclasped and discarded on the floor along with your shirt, the cool air around you stiffening your nipples into sensitive peaks. He groaned as he palmed one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb stroking over the sensitive bud as he slowly lifted his eyes back to yours to watch your face crumple a bit with pleasure. 

“You’re fuckin’ perfect, baby,” he whispered, shaking his head at you in reverence as he lowered his mouth to your nipple, kissing it softly. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Fuck, Joel,” you moaned, holding his head against your breast as he swirled and sucked at the bud before kissing his way over to the other. ”I need you inside me.”

Joel’s hands gripped you harder, pulling you closer. “Take me out and sit on it, then, honey. I ain’t stoppin’ what I’m doin’.” 

Your limbs felt heavy and clumsy as you dropped your hands to his lap, as if you were drunk off Joel’s voice alone. You fumbled with his belt and the button of his jeans, undoing both with little grace as you scrambled to access the hard thickness straining beneath its rigid denim confines. Joel, meanwhile, hadn’t stopped lavishing your sensitive nipples with attention, alternating from sucking to nibbling to flicking at them with the tip of his tongue, all while his big hands restlessly stroked up and down the planes of your back. 

“Stand up so I can take these off,” he ordered, tugging at the belt loops of your trousers. You obeyed immediately, letting him undo the button and slip your slacks and underwear off in one smooth motion before he shed himself of his own clothes, leaving him bare and beautiful in front of you. Joel was smiling as he tapped his lap with one hand and held your hip with the other. “Sit.” 

You let out a soft keening sound at the rough, inviting tone of his voice, obeying once again. Joel watched your face as you straddled his lap, his eyes round with reverence and lips parting at the feeling of your soft palm wrapping around his pulsing girth. 

“Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lip as his eyes fell to watch your hand pump him. “You got any idea what you do t’me, baby? Any fuckin’ clue how good y’feel?”

You replied with a hiss of your own as you flicked the tip of him along your seam, paying special attention to your swollen bundle of nerves. “Do you?”

Joel smiled for a half-second before his face crumpled into something dark and needy and absolutely sinful as you lined him up at your entrance, sinking down just enough to have his fat head inside you. He groaned at the tightness there, and you sighed at the delicious stretch of him making himself at home in the most precious of places. 

“Always so tight,” he whispered, lifting his hands to your face as he pulled you down to him for a searing kiss. “So fuckin’ wet. Best fuckin’ pussy in the world.”

You smiled into the kiss and sank down further, relishing in the choked moan you tore from his chest. “And it belongs to you, Joel.”

“Shit,” he groaned, tossing his head back against the couch, giving you the perfect chance to press your lips against his pulse. Joel’s hands splayed across your hips, keeping you flush with his body for a moment while he gained his composure. “Tell me again.”

You grinded yourself against him, your clit rubbing against the patch of hair at his base and sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “My pussy’s all yours, Joel.”

He growled, lifting your hips just to drive his own forward, drilling in deep. “Again.”

You let out a cry, fingers leaving crescent moons in the meat of his shoulders as his head found that spot deep inside you with every rough thrust upwards. “You own me, Joel.”

“Own what?,” he growled, using your body as a toy as he plunged deep over and over and over. Your face was buried in the nook of his neck as you held onto his broad frame, breathing in the scent of sawdust and warm cologne and sweat—so masculine, so distinctly Joel. 

“You own my pussy,” you cried, meeting his thrusts in harsh bounces, the room filling with the lewd slap of your ass meeting his thighs. “You own every fucking part of me, baby.” 

Joel’s hand came down onto your ass with a sharp sting, the pain blending with pleasure and driving you closer to that delicious edge. “Good fuckin’ girl. This pussy’s all mine. You’re all fuckin’ mine, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuck, yes!” You rode him without care of how you looked while doing it. It was animalistic and primal the way you needed him, the way your body reacted to even the slightest of touches. Joel shared that same inhibition, hands gripping and roaming and mouth spewing with filth. 

“Wanna carve my name into this fuckin’ pussy and make it mine forever. Put a fuckin’ baby in you,” he groaned, his lips pressing against the shell of your ear as the two of you worked in tandem to achieve pure bliss. His words had you clenching, even when you hadn’t expected to want or like them as much as you did. “That what you want, baby? Want me to fuck my cum nice and deep ‘til it takes?”

“Fuck, yes!” you cried, your walls squeezing him like a vice grip. “Wanna have your baby, Joel!”

He growled, using one hand at the base of your neck to pull your face from his shoulder so that he could look into your eyes. “So fuckin’ beautiful, honey. You’d look so goddamn pretty with my baby inside you.”

“Fuck, Joel, I’m so close,” you moaned, face wrecked with pleasure as you leaned back on his lap, your hands perched on his thighs for leverage. Joel growled at the change in position, at the sight of your body sprawled out on top of him, at the bounce of your breasts in his eyeline. 

“I’m gonna cum nice and deep,” he said, biting his bottom lip as he lowered his thumb to your clit, working it in perfect circles. “Gonna make you a mess and then clean it up with my tongue. S’that what you want?”

“Please,” you cried, too fucked out to say anything better. 

“Gonna taste us together ‘til you beg me to stop,” he said, his own voice now shaky and rough as he approached his release. “Fuck, baby. I need you t’cum for me. I’m too fuckin’ close.”

You didn’t need any more motivation, your body seizing up and crumbling on top of him with the weight of your climax. Joel gathered you in his arms and held you close to his chest, pressing kisses against your temple as he buried himself deep and let you have every last drop of his release. 

“Take it,” he murmured, fucking his cum deep into your pussy. “Take what’s yours, darlin’.”

“Jesus,” you sighed, circling your hips against his as your climax faded to a warm, tingling thing. ”You’re too fucking good at this.”

Joel laughed, soft and breathy, as he smoothed a hand up and down your back before letting it settle on your ass with a gentle squeeze. “Fuck, I love the shit out of you, you know that?” 

You froze, not out of fear or panic, but just the sheer surprise of such a confession falling so casually from his lips. Joel seemed to realize it too, as his hand stilled in its ministrations across your heated skin. 

“We can pretend I didn’t say that, if y’want,” Joel said, sounding much too shy and insecure for your taste. 

You sat up enough to look at him, watching as he avoided your stare like a nervous little boy. 

“Look at me, you beautiful man.” He obliged, carefully lifting his eyes to meet yours. You held his face in your hands, guiding him to your lips for three gentle, loving pecks. “I don’t want to pretend. I…love you, too. Fuck, I think I’ve always loved you, Joel.”

Joel’s smile dawned again, washing away every trace of hesitation that lingered before. He leaned in to kiss you again, this time slow and languid as if he’d be content to do this for the rest of his life. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this…happy. This settled before. Just want you t’know that.”

“Neither have I,” you murmured, your lips refusing to move too far from his. 

JOEL

You stayed with him later than you probably should’ve. The afternoon light had faded into evening, but neither of you paid any mind to the passing of time. You fell asleep shortly after he fulfilled his promise of cleaning you up with his tongue, your face buried in the nook of his neck as he dozed with you on the sofa. 

He woke up before you, eager to take his time in watching you sleep beside him. It had become a favorite pastime of his in the short month the two of you had spent together, waking up before you just to watch you breathe. He’d never felt this way in any of his previous relationships, so enamored and in love with a person, even in their most base state. It had always been a sort of begrudging kind of love with his exes, as if there was a large part of his biology that rejected their company for one reason or the next. He mostly just felt out of place in their company, like living with a stranger or a roommate that he fucked every now and again. 

But there wasn’t a single part of him that felt that way about you. He loved every bit of you—the woman you showed him when you were awake, kind and thoughtful and determined, and the woman he held close when you were fast asleep, all soft curves and warm skin. Even Sarah seemed to accept you as a natural addition to their family, far more than she ever did with her own mother. That fact carried more weight than you knew, or perhaps you were keenly aware of the way they both felt for you and simply chose to accept it in stride. Either way, it was endearing. 

He was just about to wake you up to thank you for existing here with him—with them—in the best way he knew how when a series of hurried knocks sounded on his front door. He’d saw the headlights of your father’s SUV pull into the driveway next door, and given your absence at home, he had no doubt that he would’ve strolled over, worried as all hell. 

Joel gently coaxed you awake with a thumb brushing over your face, feeling a bit irritated that he had to interrupt your peace. Especially given the circumstance. 

“Your dad’s at the door, baby,” he said, his voice gentle but urging. You bolted upright at the news, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as you scanned the room. “Go upstairs and I’ll send him back home.”

You muttered a sleepy okay, grabbed your clothes from the floor, and hurried upstairs to his bedroom while Joel threw on his own clothes and tried to look half-presentable. As if he hadn’t just spent the afternoon inside you. 

When things looked to be back in order, he finally marched to the door and opened it, revealing your disheveled looking father. “Hey, everything alright?”

“Have you seen my daughter?” he asked, breezing past Joel and into the half-lit living room. 

“No,” Joel lied, rubbing the back of his neck as he spotted your underwear halfway beneath the couch that you must’ve missed when fumbling for your clothes in the dark. “You wanna grab a couple beers and tell me what’s got you so riled up?”

Your father headed into the kitchen with a soft grunt, allowing Joel the opportunity to stuff your panties in his back pocket before taking a seat on the sofa. When he returned, he let out a sigh and settled into the recliner, combing a hand over his face. 

“She isn’t home,” he said, pausing to take a sip of his beer. “She usually sends me a text when she’s gonna be out late.”

“She probably just forgot,” Joel said, his knee bouncing with anxiety. Lying had never come easy to him, but if there was any time to learn, it was now. “You tried textin’ her?”

“Yeah, nothin’,” he said, shaking his head. “I feel like she’s hiding something from me. A boyfriend, maybe. I’ve kept quiet about it, but I’ve heard her sneakin’ out in the dead of night. Her car always stays here, though, so she must be gettin’ picked up.” He fixed his attention on Joel. “You seen anything?”

Joel was quick to shake his head. A bit too quick. “No, I’m in bed early these days.”

“Well, keep an eye out if you can,” he said, ticking his jaw. “I’d like to know what she’s been up to. Makes no sense for her to hide things from me, but then again, it’s been a long time since we’ve been under the same roof like this.”

“She’s probably just settlin’ in, figurin’ things out,” Joel said, his fingers scratching at the label on his bottle. “No need to go and get yourself worked up over nothin’.”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh, downing the last of his beer. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Let me know if you hear anything.”

Joel stood to walk him to the door, only to watch as your father’s eyes landed on a familiar looking phone case laid face down on the coffee table. 

“That’s her phone,” he said, his eyes narrowing at the object before lifting to Joel’s. “What’s her phone doin’ here?”

Joel struggled to make up a lie, his lips parting and closing over and over. “I, uh…”

“Joel,” he said, his tone harsher than before. “What’s my daughter’s phone doing here?”

Your father stepped closer, squaring his shoulders as he sized up his newfound enemy. 

“I’m gonna give you two seconds to explain yourself before I go upstairs and take a look myself,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Listen—“

“Nope.” He shook his head, scoffing in anger as he turned to move towards the staircase. Joel rushed to block his path, setting a firm hand on his chest. “I suggest you move, Miller.”

“I suggest you don’t tell me what to do in my own house,” Joel said, his protective streak outweighing his anxiety. “You can either sit there and listen, or you can get the hell out. Either way, you ain’t goin’ upstairs.”

“You gonna stop me?” Your father stepped forward, daring Joel to make a move. He had half a mind to shove him back a step, but the sound of his bedroom door opening talked some much needed sense into him. 

“Dad, stop,” you pleaded, the sound breaking Joel’s heart. “I’ll be home in a second. We can talk about this in private.”

“There’s no way in hell this is happening,” he scoffed, shaking his head as he turned to pace the living room. “You’re sneakin’ around with my daughter? And lyin’ to my face about it? For what, some hookup? Some sick fantasy of yours?”

“Dad!” You pushed past Joel to stand in front of him protectively. “It’s not a hookup or anything like that. Joel and I are together. We’re serious about each other.”

“He’s a decade older than you!” he shouted back, causing Joel to take the lead. 

“She’s a grown woman,” Joel said. “Goddamn near twenty-five. You don’t think she’s old enough to make her own decisions yet?” 

“She wasn’t twenty-five when you met her,” he returned. 

“And I didn’t act on anything all that time,” Joel said.

“How long has this been goin’ on?” Your father turned to you, and Joel fought the urge to tell him to wipe the murderous look off his face. 

“A month or so,” you said, meek and timid. “We were going to tell you.”

“Bullshit,” he spat. “Joel was just sitting there lying to my face about you just needing time to settle in. All the while, he’s been the one you’ve been sneaking off with.”

“We were waiting until we knew what was happening—“

“Well that went to shit, didn’t it?” he said, shaking his head. “You know what? You wanna sneak around and lie to me, you wanna play house with him, then you can stay here. I’m not having a liar sleep under my roof.”

“Dad!”

“No!” he shouted. “You didn’t care how this would hurt me before, you don’t get to cry about it now. I’m goin’ out. You’ve got an hour to get your shit and leave my house. And you—“ He turned his attention to Joel. “You’re never going to be welcomed under my roof again. You’re dead to me. I don’t want to see your face again, you hear me?”

Joel didn’t reply, simply clenching his jaw as he reached a hand out to welcome you into his side, your tears staining his t-shirt as you buried your face in his neck. 

“Fuckin’ sick,” your father said, stomping his way to the door and slamming it shut behind him. 

In the tense silence that followed, Joel wanted nothing more than to go over and teach your father a lesson on how not to speak to you, but he was too preoccupied with holding you as you shook with tears. 

“Baby,” he cooed, hugging you tight. “I’m so sorry. So fuckin’ sorry.”

“He was so…mean,” you sobbed, hugging him tight. “He’s never spoken to me like that. Like I wasn’t his daughter.”

“I know,” he murmured, smoothing his hand over your back. “I hate him for makin’ you cry like this.”

“I can’t believe…can’t believe this is real,” you said, peering up to look at him with red-rimmed eyes. “I was so happy just a few minutes ago.” 

Joel cradled your face in his hands and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll be alright. He’ll come around, and if he doesn’t…well, he can go fuck himself.”

You nodded, though no part of him thought you believed what he’d said. No, you’d be torn up over this for days. Weeks, even. But through it all, he’d be there. 

“Come on,” he said, holding your hand. “Let’s go get your things, and then we’ll come back, have a drink, and watch one of those romance movies you love so much until it hurts a little bit less, alright?”

You managed a soft, but broken smile and nodded. “Thank you for sticking up for me and being here. It’s more than most men would’ve done in your situation.”

“I love you,” he said, squeezing your hand. “That means I’m gonna always be here to stick up for you, alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

[loveshotzz]

We’re supposed to be eating breakfast

older!steve x fem!reader an AIRWIY oneshot

summary: You wake up after your first sleep over at Steve’s house feeling bold.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ older!steve, smut, p in v, cream pie, breeding kink, mentions of past drinking, reader is wearing Steve’s baseball jersey but it’s not really described how it fits on readers body, no real descriptions of readers body.

authors note: this took me over a month to write with everything going on in my personal life, so I’m excited to finally give it to you. thank you all for your patience and encouragement to keep coming back on here every day despite me not writing as much as I used to and to keep me opening my word docs. this one was spurred my @palmtreesx3 brilliant mind and an idea that’s haunted me day and night. This takes place in the All I Really Want Is You universe, but can be read as a stand alone. Just know you’re wearing Steve’s personalized cubs jersey. :)

The harsh sounds of the coffee grinder is what wakes you up, but the golden rays of morning sunshine that leaks through the cracks in the blinds is what gets your eyes to open. Slow soft blinks, with fluttering lashes and brain still fuzzy from the kind of sleep that makes you temporarily forget what year it is, you need a moment to recognize the unfamiliar, much nicer surroundings.

You were in Steve’s room.

A smile you can’t contain spreads wide across your face, butterfly wings tickling at your rib cage. Stretching your still sleeping limbs, your body melts into the soft cushions of his mattress. The feathers that fill his pillows contour to your head perfectly, and the memories of the ways he had you pressed into it resurface, skin igniting with the ghost of his hands on your curves. Biting your bottom lip, the kind of nerves that you haven’t had since the Fourth of July make themselves known again, having never spent a morning with him at his home.

Rolling over, your face hits the cotton of his pillowcase that you’re not surprised is cold. Shamelessly you inhale the cedar and spice that still lingers on it, and the faint ache between your thighs, along with the clinks of glass you hear from his sink, reminds you that he’s just down stairs. It takes a little bit of willpower to leave the cozy cocoon you’ve found yourself in but the need to see him over powers the comfort of his duvet that feels like just the right amount of weight against your body.

Shuffling out of the covers, your bare feet hit the cold hard wood of his floors, a shiver crawling up your spine that you tell yourself is from the chill of the winter air that seeps through his unsealed windows, definitely not your nerves catching a glimpse of your naked body in his dresser mirror. The same mirror you’d seen him in almost five months ago.

Padding across his bedroom you wonder if he can hear your steps as you search for any sign of your clothes that had been haphazardly thrown around after an old bottle of red wine. The clean white color of his jersey catches in your gaze, the blue bold lettering that spells out his last name has your thighs pressing at the memory of your second date as it sits folded on top of his dresser.

The thought of how good he looked with it stretched across his broad shoulders, and the top two buttons undone, teasing the chest hair that your nails dragged through last night makes your skin warm. The praises he whispered in hot merlot against your lips, your neck, and between your legs is what gives you the confidence you need to slip it on instead.

The stairs creak under each step, but the popping grease of the bacon that fills his house with the smell of maple lets you go undetected. Familiar voices of who you’re learning are sportscasters, spill out from the small speaker on his phone that you know is propped up on the little plastic holder he always sets it on when he charges it. He mumbles something in response to the commentary under his breath, and you hear the beeping of the oven telling him it’s finished preheating.

Your cheeks hurt from how high they push up when you realize Steve’s making you breakfast.

A little shy from his affections already, your fingers wrap around the wood frame of the entryway with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth. With his back to you, it gives you a perfect view of the way his white cotton undershirt stretches tight over his shoulder blades that move with every flick of his wrist, forearms flexing as he whisks whatever is in the bowl in front of him. Black sweats sit low on his hips, giving you a glimpse of his boxer briefs underneath, the font across the top of his waist band says Burberry, making your palms sweat. A personal favorite pair.

He turns his head to look at a replay of a game he missed in favor of spending time with you on his phone screen, still completely unaware of your presence. The new angle reveals the silver glasses he wore a few weeks ago in his office, dark chestnut and peppered hair sticking out wild at the ends, a mess you know was made by your hands.

“Seriously? Keep him on the bench.” He grumbles, shaking his head before bringing his attention back to the bowl.

You watch him for a few seconds longer, but his butt jiggling with the force of his whisking makes a giggle slip past your lips blowing your cover. He jumps at the noise no matter how sweet it is, meeting your eyes from over his shoulder. Steve gives you a smile that you’re learning is only reserved for you and sometimes Eddie, punching the air out of your lungs. Watching the way it only continues to grow across his stubble covered face makes your heart swell even more.

It’s only when his gaze finally lands on the only thing you’re wearing that the gold shimmering inside his eyes darken, a starless night lingering where the bottom hem of his jersey sits at the very tops of your thighs.

“Jesus honey, look at you.” The metal whisk hits the glass of the bowl with a loud clink as he turns around to really drink you in, “good morning to me.”

“I hope this is okay,” your voice comes out smaller than intended, suddenly self conscious you might have overstepped despite the way he watches you take your first steps into the kitchen like he wants to eat you alive.

“Okay?” His huffs out a breath like he’s wrecked, long fingers coming up to scratch at his jaw, “I’m afraid you’re not allowed to wear anything else in my house ever again.”

You giggle again, and you swear you hear him groan because of it.

“I think we might be able to arrange something, a deal, an agreement of some sort.” you smirk, tapping your nails along the smooth black marble of his kitchen island, giving your hips a little extra sway with your slow steps.

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him as he leans back, chest puffing while he licks his full pink lips. They pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you smile shyly before you slip your hand into his palm, your eyes glaze over watching it disappear in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, he grins down at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Wrapping an arm around you to keep you from leaving, he lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his eyes turn soft with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, reminded of his dog who he knows is soaking up the sun outside, and the palm on your back squeezes you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he earns, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meet in the middle with eager enthusiasm, and your front teeth hit as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. When he’s met with the bare swell of your ass as he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

You hardly register him turning the oven off beside you.

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by a gasp when two thick fingers trace up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine with shaky knees.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows pinch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out with fluttering lashes, as he spreads you apart.

“You’re right, I don’t think breakfast is gonna be sweet enough for me.” He tuts, letting his middle finger push just a knuckle into your already greedy walls, and the soft moan that he gets from you has him leaking in his sweats. “You gonna help me with that, honey?”

Too lost in his teasing all you manage is a nod and a breathy ‘mmhmm’ looking up at him with big glassy eyes. He lets his lips ghost over yours, with a smirk tugging at the corners of them before spinning you around. Your palms land back on the cool marble of the kitchen island while both his hands wrap themselves firmly around the soft dough of your hips keeping his Jersey rucked up with them. He pulls your ass flush with his hips, letting you feel the hard length of him that begs to be released from the fleece confines of his pants against the ache in your core.

“This is what you wanted when you came down here lookin’ like this huh?” He asks with a low voice, hooking his thumbs under the bottom of his jersey. Lifting it higher up your back, he grinds against you while his eyes drink in all the soft dips of all your curves.

“Maybe,” you giggle a little breathy looking back over your shoulder at him with half lidded eyes.

His smile steals all the warm light from the room as he looks down at you with a cocked brow.

“I was trying to wait till after breakfast, which was hard waking up to you naked in my bed.” He can’t stop his heavy gaze from wandering to his last name covering the top of your back, unlocking something primal and possessive inside of him that he thought he’d lost forever. He wants you to leave it on, he’ll get it dry cleaned. “But honey, I can’t keep my hands off of you lookin’ like this.”

His palm feels heavy as it slides over the curve of your ass, squeezing at the fat with strong fingers spreading you apart a little before shoving his sweatpants half way down his hairy thighs. With hot cheeks, you flutter around nothing when the thickness of his cock springs free, standing at attention just for you. Somersaults in your stomach as you watch his tight grip pump himself a few times. Your hips wiggle in anticipation, whining when he teases more, gliding his tip through your slick, a small moan spilling from between your lips when he catches your clit.

“Always so needy for me,” he groans with a hint of disbelief, “fuck, what’d I do to deserve you?”

Steve doesn’t waste anymore time, slowly pushing in and the feeling of your walls wrapping around him while your body tries to accommodate the stretch has him chanting your name under his breath. Half way in, he regrips your hips a little rougher than before. His cock twitches watching your back bow, making his last name shine against the light while your nails scratch at the cool marble when he bottoms out.

Legs shaking, still sensitive from the night before, his hold on you tightens. You keen at the feeling of his thumbs rubbing small circles into your soft skin giving you time to adjust. It doesn’t take long for the initial sting subside, giving you the strength to rock your hips a little, a breathy sigh escaping you when it feels good.

“Yeah?” He hums, meeting your hips with his own hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

“Uh huh” You manage to utter as he pulls almost all the way out, a moan of his name long and drawn out bounces off the walls when he pushes back in letting you feel every inch.

“That’s my girl,” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes you want to turn around and see it.

Your eyes meet from over your shoulder again as he starts to roll his hips, finding the perfect pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the quiet space between moans every time your ass jiggles from the force of it. That strand falls messily over his forehead when he looks down at you, brows pinching together and jaw going slack like seeing your face only intensified everything he was feeling. He holds your stare, and the snap of his hips starts to get rougher. Burying himself deep focusing on that spot, the one he’s only ever been able to find.

“Oh, oh- Steve. Right there -shit - oh my god.” Your head falls between your shoulders, when he starts to barely pull out anymore. The tip of him making your eyelashes flutter as he reaches the spot that had you screaming his name last night, over and over again.

His eyes wander the expanse of your back, keeping his pace while his hands slowly start to slide up your sides, pushing his jersey with it. He wants to see more of you, but his hips stutter hearing the noises he’s getting out of you with his last name plastered across your hunched shoulders.

“You look so good - shiiit, like this baby. My name on your back, letting me bend you over in my kitchen while I cook you breakfast.” He babbles as your walls start to flutter, already dangerously close to falling over the ledge, your body threatening to take him with you. “Wanna do this all the time, please, let me do this all the time, honey.”

“Whatever, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want, I’m - oh fuck, I’m yours.” Your words break off in a moan when he starts to circle his hips at the same time you push yours back and he holds you there, repeating the motion.

“Yeah? You’re mine?” Steve grunts, cock twitching at the thought of filling you up, and for the first time in over a decade he feels the need to mark what’s his in the most primal way he knows. The thought of you round with his kid brings a new kind of intensity to the way he starts to fuck you, and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. “Tell me again.”

“Mmmhmm, always yours.” You whine, feeling yourself reaching the edge. Steve leans forward, somehow going deeper. Long thick fingers find their way between your thighs, where the two of you connect and he starts rubbing messy circles on your clit, pushing you off the cliff.

You flutter and squeeze around him hard enough to almost push him out, but he continues rutting his hips fighting against it, white spots explode behind your lids, his name falling out of your mouth broken in a gasp and a shudder.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it.” He groans, watching the way your forehead hits the cold marble with another tremor that makes his cock twitch. “Gonna cum baby, let me cum inside, need it, please.”

He can make out the nod of your head, and with the little strength you have left, you push yourself further back encouraging him more. He knows you're on the pill, he’s seen you take it, but right now in the heat of it all, a small part of him hopes you missed a day. He blames the blue letters on his Jersey staring him right in the face, or the way you coat his cock with the remains of what he did to you every time you suck him right back in.

He pushes himself deep enough to make you fall forward a little, a low groan rumbling deep from his chest as he spills hot inside of you the rock of his hips slowing down as he falls apart. His forehead hits your back, with one last lazy thrust, and you can feel the heat of his breath as he pants to catch his breath. You wish the fabric of his jersey wasn’t so thick when he plants a kiss between your shoulder blades, before slowly pulling himself back up.

“Yeah, it’s official. This is absolutely the only thing you’re allowed to wear here.”

[bee-the-loser-recs]

~~~☼ My Jaehyun One-shot Fic Recs ☼~~

𖤓 Send in the clowns By @smileysuh 10.6k, Haechan|Mark|Jaehyun x reader, college au, frat boys NCT, best friend Jungwoo, friends to lovers, karaoke friends, smut, polyamory, slight fluff, Halloween parties, dressing up

𖤓 The V week spy By @smileysuh 20.1k, Jaehyun x reader (romantic) ft. Haechan | Yangyang | Jungwoo | Jeno, college au, frat house NCT, sorority member reader, stupid traditions, no strings attached situation, smut, slight fluff

𖤓 Racer By @smileysuh 6.7k, street racing au, brother's rival Jaehyun, Jonny is reader's brother, fluff, smut, slight angst, accidents, car crash, star crossed lovers, secret relationship

𖤓 Christmas Puppy By @smileysuh 11k, university au, fratboy Jaehyun, best friend's brother trope, boy next door, secret romance, holiday times, sneaking around together

𖤓 Sandwich By @smileysuh 11.6k, Jungwoo x reader x Jaehyun, frat au, established relationship between Jungwoo & reader, inviting Jaehyun to join, polyamory, basketball players Jungwoo & Jaehyun, reader is referred to as "Ducky"

𖤓 No guidance By @yutaholic 20k, pregnancy au, long term fwb/dating, struggling to commit to a relationship, child birth, smut, angst, fluff, heavily dialogue

𖤓 I'll always be here By @jaehyunsprincesspeach Comfort, reader has had a bad week, mentions of stress and burn out, fluff, slight sad vibes, cuddles, falling asleep together

𖤓 Rose bud By @hazyhae 9.2k, college au, non-idol au, stoner Jaehyun & reader, college parties, jealousy, smut, angst, slight fluff, fuckboy Jaehyun, misunderstandings & miscommunication, pining, borrowing clothes

𖤓 Ordinary By @markiemelon Drabble, fluff, Idol Jaehyun, coffee shop worker reader, Jaehyun slips her his number, cute

𖤓 Freaks I By @2jaeh 8k, college au, romantic interest, smut, slight fluff, art students, flirty relationship with friends Ten & Taeyong, poly themes, technically cheating as Jaehyun has a girlfriend, preppy!Jaehyun, badgirl reader

𖤓 Stars, moons & other celestial bodies By @kiachiako 26.7k, retro themed au, brother's friend trope, childhood crush, pining, Taeyong is reader's brother, coming of age, slight age gap, home for the summer, angst, fluff

𖤓 Trust me not By @starillusion13 9.1k, Boss unit x reader, mafia au, angst, slight fluff, keeping secrets, anniversary surprises, themes of betrayal, getting shot, open ending

𖤓 Foreign swaggers By @starillusion13 8k, Jonny | Jaehyun | Mark x reader, brother's best friend au, Taeyong is reader's brother, shared vacation, smut, fluff, polyamory, enemies to friends to lovers, drinking

𖤓 Strawberry Sunday By @babbymochiiii Non-specified au, DoJaeJung x reader, ice cream shop workers, flirting, polyamory situation, mutual crushes, smut, slight fluff, shy natured reader, inspired by the song "Strawberry Sunday"

𖤓 Quarantine Chronicles 1, part 2, part 3 By @domjaehyun 28.5k & 55.3k & 43k, Quarantine au, Jaemin | Jaehyun | Jungwoo | Johnny | Mark | (Jeno | Haechan in part 3 only) x reader, roommates (except Mark), friends with benefits situation, lots of tension & flirting, smut, slight fluff, crack, Jaehyun & Mark have actual feelings for reader

𖤓 Fiending By @domjaehyun 27.1k, Jaehyun x reader x Jeno, college au, fratboys NCT, smut, incubi Jaehyun & Jeno, alcohol, parties, long term "pining", potentially triggering, mild humour

𖤓 Hot girl bummer By @domjaehyun 6.2k, non-idol au, brother's best friend trope, smut, kind of enemies to lovers, sexual tension, strong feelings

𖤓 Make a mess out of you By @domjaehyun 5.8k, non-idol au, established relationship, reader is eating a popsicle, beach trip with 127, jealousy, smut, reader is rather innocent

𖤓 If you need a lover By @suhnshinehaos SMAU, university au, pure fluff, valentines day dates, mutual crushes, gift for Jaehyun's birthday, Instagram posts

𖤓 Love grows By @juyeoniemyhoney 2.1k, model Jaehyun, long time friends to lovers, head over heels Jaehyun, suggestive nature, fluff

𖤓 Romanée-conti By @yougotthatbilly 24k, sugar daddy!Jaehyun, slowburn, smut, development of feelings & attachment to one another, pet names, initially no sexual component to the relationship, slight fluff

𖤓 Coming of age By @gamerwoo 5.5k, soulmate au, body swap soulmark, accidentally "traumatising" friends, fluff, continuously missing each other, comedy, cute, running around campus to find one another

𖤓 Love galore By @kongjjen 1.3k, established relationship, non-specified au, cuties, wearing each other's clothes, a lot of domesticity, suggestive, a man in love

𖤓 When the fratboy falls By @gyeomsweetgyeom 8.9k, fratboy Jaehyun, college au, reader is tutoring Jaehyun, instant attraction, developing feelings, fluff, frat parties, flirty Haechan, pet names

𖤓 Your biggest fan By @gyeomsweetgyeom Established relationship, western popstar reader, idol Jaehyun, revelation of the relationship, photos taken of the two without their knowledge, fluff, positive reaction

𖤓 [8:46pm] By @gyeomsweetgyeom Establishing relationship, early stages of dating, reader is kind of inexperienced, fluff, sending flowers to one another, returning the energy, cute

𖤓 Just makes sense By @gyeomsweetgyeom Idol Jaehyun x idol reader, fans continuously shipping them, strong friendship to lovers, discussion of feelings, fluff, cute

𖤓 No clue By @xomakara 11.9k, college au, best friends to lovers, jealousy, frat parties, flirting with other to hide feelings, scheming friends, getting together, smut, slight fluff, pet names

𖤓 Sugar 1 & 2 By @lattaeyongs 4k & 14k, CEO Jaehyun, secretary reader, they've been working together for 8 years, single dad Jaehyun, fluff, smut, slight angst, reader feels guilt about her job

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 ✦

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader (delta) | smut, 18+ | 4.1k

summary: you, soap and gaz make a silly bet at ghost's expense for an invaluable prize.

cw: mw3 spoiler free. 141 ridiculousness, humour, attempts to remove the mask resulting in life threatening (not really) injury, mild exhibitionism if you squint, very talkative ghost, 'interrogation' wink wink, unprotected p in v sex, reference to f receiving oral.

ghost mlist | main mlist | taglist

"Y'know, I'm sure as shit that L.t's got brown hair," Soap pipes up in the middle of the silence that had settled inside the safe house. 

The members of Task Force 141 glance up one by one, querying eyes cast Soap's way as the guesstimated observation hangs in the air. It's louder than chopper blades, thudding against your skull and roaring in your ears as you attempt to recall the information you have on Ghost, what little physical attributes you can attribute to him. Each time, you hit a brick wall. The only image conjured in your minds-eye is the black voids of the mask's eyes and the piercing amber of his irises. 

The wind howls outside, battering the windows with Wyoming snow and creeping in through the cracks in the panes. It makes a yowling sound as it slips through the crevices, carrying your memories of Ghost's appearance with it. He truly was like an apparition, there one moment, then gone altogether. 

Gaz's brows crease in the middle, little crevices in the skin showing his mind working over the sentence. 

"He doesn't," he eventually retorts, eyebrow cocked while shaking his head, "He's blonde." 

"What makes you say that?" Price scoffs at his colleague's certainty, "You ever seen his face?"

The silence that follows makes the Captain chuckle. A wordless 'that's what I thought'. 

"You willin' to bet on that?" Soap pushes Gaz with a lopsided smirk. There it is, that ridiculous playfulness that the Scotsman continuously let slip over coms. Simon had once reprimanded him for how it would get him killed– you were almost certain if he continued down this path in particular, he'd be in a box by daylight.

"I am," Gaz counters thoughtlessly, a smug lilt to his tone as he leans the crown of his head back against the rotting wooden wall, "He's got blonde eyelashes. He's gonna have blonde hair."

"What're ya gettin' so close tae him for?" Soap grins wide, loading the new ammunition and hitting a bullseye on the first shot, "You been snoggin' him or somethin'?"

"Lads," Price warns. It's only one word, but it says a lot; 'he'll have your head.' All of you know Simon 'Ghost' Riley well enough to know it's not a joke. Seen enough of the mangled bodies he left behind to know it wouldn't be clean, either. More like he'd hack your skull from your neck, picking out the dullest blade that'd struggle to slot between vertebrae.  

"Bets on, then," Soap continues, white teeth gleaming in the low light, "First to confirm gets the honour of shootin' Hassan between the eyes." 

It's like throwing a match at a body doused in diesel. 

                           ✰

The parameters of this wager are as follows... First: the competition is between you, Soap and Gaz. Price was ruled automatically exempt the moment he admitted he had, indeed, seen Ghost's face. It was a revelation that caused quite a storm- and a promise from Gaz of £100 if he'd tell.

The Captain, quite frankly, told him where to stick it. 

Second: None of you could just ask Ghost himself. That was boring; no fun in that. 

Thirdly, there are no other rules. Acquire the information by any means necessary to claim victory. Perhaps this rule should have been revised- because to say that 141's tactics for getting Ghost to reveal his face were a little unorthodox is an understatement of the highest order. 

Despite his hulking frame, Ghost is like a cunning fox, cognizant of even the slightest changes in energy and hypervigilant of those approaching. The midnight void of his grease paint that frames his eyesockets contrasts the whites of his eyes as they dart back and forth between you all. He appears to have noted the devious scheming, practically hearing the cogs turning in your heads the moment he returned from his watch. Something is amiss, and you know Ghost knows it. 

He says nothing. 

Day One; the grumpy, black-clad special ops soldier sits back in his seat as he crosses his arms over his vast chest, cautiously observing the minute movements the three of you made. He'd bristled when Gaz stood from the sofa simply to enter another room, poised and ready to pounce at whatever fuckery the younger soldier would attempt. 

"Hey, L.t.," Soap's drawl cuts through the humorously tense atmosphere in the room, and you brace yourself for his master plan. "When was the last time ye got a haircut?"

Ghost hesitates. Waits a beat. The silence stretches almost uncomfortably until he answers, thick, bassy voice almost booming in the box room. "What're you playin' at, Johnny?"

Soap shrugs his shoulders, exuding complete nonchalance as he settles into the seat across the table from the hulking mass of man. "Just wondered if the mask ever came off. How do you cut your hair?"

Amusement ripples through you in the sound of a chuckle, both men glancing your way. Ghost peers at you, suspicion pooling thick in his pupils. 

"Shave it," Ghost rumbles bluntly, with an air of finality that leaves no room for argument or for Soap to encourage him to try something stupid like curtain bangs or, God forbid, a mohawk. 

You can't help but grin from ear to ear as you watch the Scotsman's shoulders slump in defeat, already waving a white flag upon seeing how unwilling Ghost is to play whatever stupid game you're all partaking in. Even you can't deny the anxiety that prickles across your nerve endings when you see the way Ghost's biceps flex beneath the camo fabric of his uniform, primed for action. 

When Ghost's aqua irises slide to you, your shoulders shrug comically, putting on the performance of your life to appear as though you had no idea what Johnny was up to. You see the way Ghost's blacked-out eyelids squint in suspicion. He doesn't believe you, but doesn't say as much. 

Day Three and the polite, roundabout tactics had been discarded in favour of the nuclear option. Gaz had tried ambushing Ghost in the shower, opening the door without knocking as if pretending he didn't know the Lieutenant was in there. The door slammed so quickly into his head that an egg had been steadily growing on his forehead for the past hour and a half, blood seeping from his almost certainly broken nose. 

"You'll stay out next time, Bravo 2-6, if you know what's good for you," Ghost had growled through the crack in the door before shutting it with a click of the lock. 

Holding his face and slinking away, mortally wounded, Gaz uttered a humiliated 'Yes, lieutenant'. 

Soap, clearly not having learnt from poor Gaz, decided that the next best option was a trip, so to speak. Executing a ludicrously overexaggerated stumble, Johnny reached out to grab Ghost's mask to 'steady himself' and ultimately drag it from his superior's head. 

Ghost had leapt from his seat with a roar, threatening to send Sergeant MacTavish back to Scotland in a box with the Saltire draped across the lid. The standoff only settled upon Captain Price's barked orders to stand down or hang up the uniform. 

By Day Six, Ghost had bruised your opponent's egos enough that neither Soap nor Gaz dared attempt to peek beneath the mask again. They look at you like you're absolutely bonkers when you finally announce it's your turn to try and tame the beast. 

"Yer fuckin' mad, hen," Johnny grumbled, watching you observe Ghost from across the room. He'd settled on a chair in the corner of the room, ensuring no one could sneak up on him. "You can't seriously be plannin' on-"

"I want Hassan," you shrug, a smile playing on your lips. Though, at this rate, you couldn't care less about the terrorist and the honour of dispatching him. No, Ghost had made this ridiculous game far more competitive than needed, and you planned to win.

"Have fun," Gaz scoffed bitterly, still icing the blotchy green and purple bruise that had welted on his forehead as a medal of dis-honour. You hadn't exactly helped the healing process, poking it harshly with the pad of your thumb as you laughed at his mortifying misfortune. 

You wait patiently for Ghost to move, like a stake out on a mission. Lying in plain sight in a ghillie suit, a sniper rifle pointed right between his eyes and your finger on a hairpin trigger. You wait for him to break, for exhaustion to creep in. Thankfully, you don't have to wait long. The Lieutenant rises from his chair, announcing to 141 that he's headed to bed. 

A quiet mumble of 'goodnight' from each member grants him leave, and Ghost walks out of the room without further word. You waste no time in hurrying to your feet. 

"Are you gonna...-" Soap winces when you stand, trailing off when you start after Ghost, not allowing either of your colleagues to talk you out of this suicide mission. 

Though, the moment you turn the corner, you wish you had. Ghost's broad frame practically fills the narrow hallway like someone had plucked Everest from Nepal and shoved its hulking mass into a matchbox. He's ginormous, his usually silent footsteps causing the aged, rotting wood beneath the soles of his boots to creak with the weight he applies when he turns to face you. 

The dark hallway obscures Ghost's skull-face mask, but a glittering reflection of the golden light bleeding from the bulb in the living room area flickers across the wet surface of his eyes as he observes you. You can't allow the weighty pressure of his stare to phase you if you're to push ahead with your plan- so you step forward, swallowing down the nerves that Ghost's attention inevitably dredges up. 

"Lieutenant, sir," you address him smoothly, voice low as you gaze up at him through your lashes. Ghost's eyebrow arches in response, noting your somewhat suggestive behaviour. "Permission to spea-"

"I'm hopin' you'll tell me what you're all up to," his eyes spear your nerve as he interrupts you, "They're not lettin' up, but I'll get it outta you one way or another." 

"What... Did you have in mind?" You chance, heart slamming up against your chest when you realise just how obvious you're being. It's dangerous- you hadn't planned to be so forward. The idea that he'd be able to read your flirting so soon set off mortars in your veins. 

There's a pause. It dizzies you, throwing your previously sturdy confidence off kilter when Ghost tilts his masked head slightly. He's turning it over in his mind, considering the past few days' events. Then, he turns everything on its side. 

"I know what you're doing," he speaks suddenly, the rich baritone of his voice ricocheting off the walls and ringing in your ears like he's just discharged a round of ammo with each syllable. You jerk upright, standing to attention. 

"I don't know what you m-"

"You want the mask off," he interrupts you again, cutting your pathetic excuse short as he steps forward. It's ridiculous, the sheer size of him as he looms over you. "You lot made a bet."

Another beat. Ghost waits for a response, an admission of guilt. It feels like he's cornered you; every answer that springs to mind is incriminating. You know he can see your rueful expression, wide-eyed and panicked by the ease with which he puts you on the ropes. 

"Was this your plan?" He murmurs, reaching to grasp your chin. His palm settles on the hollow of your jaw, fingers fanning out across the bone. "Get me into bed and see if I'll take it off?"

Trembling in his hold, you whimper as Ghost's thumb stretches across to trace the curve of your lip. It follows the delicate arc, lining the shape of your mouth and trailing the dip of your cupid's bow. 

"'M sorry," you mumble weakly, cheeks hot beneath his touch. Again, you fold beneath the intensity of those honeyed irises. It's a miracle your knees don't buckle when he pushes the pad of his thumb just past your lips, so that it brushes the edges of your teeth. 

"That was your plan. Y'can still give it a try, love. But..." he hums, his voice throaty and quiet and settling in the pit of your stomach. It's embarrassing, the ease with which he figures you out, but his words drip over you, easy and warm, and all you can focus on is the slip of his thumb as he presses the pad against the flat of your tongue. 

"The mask stays on." 

Ghost’s insistence makes you giggle sheepishly and your stomach flip in dread, like a child caught with its hand down a bear trap. Despite the lewdness of him pushing his thumb past your lips, you know that he’s being serious, deathly so. You nod clumsily in recognition of his executive order, and Ghost gently taps the skin of your cheek with his free hand, the soft slap of his palm against your flesh standing your hair on end.

“Go.”

The word hangs in the air for a moment, weighing heavily in the claustrophobic space of the small hallway. It takes a moment for your mind, rendered utterly useless by Ghost’s imposing presence, to understand exactly what he’s implying. Only when he removes his thumb from your mouth to shove you forward towards a bedroom door does his intention become clear.

Oh. Oh!

Scrambling to force your feet forward, they practically float across the threshold of the bedroom door. You can feel Ghost looming just behind you, can practically feel the heat radiating from his chest warming the expanse of your back. Fingers clasp over your shoulder, practically swallow the curved flesh, and shove you back against the bedroom wall.

The force of impact winds you, the air expelled from your lungs swallowed down by Ghost’s lips bearing heavily down upon your own. He’d ripped the mask upwards, the hem of the ski-mask balanced across the bridge of his nose. Simon’s tongue licks into your mouth– intrudes upon the space like he’s kicking down a door, like he’s swallowing the breath he’d expelled from you with his heavy hand. 

Once the dazed dizziness dissipates, you moan in relief at finally getting what you wanted. Ghost’s gigantic paw takes hold of your jaw in a firm grip to fit his mouth perfectly against your own, his swirling fingerprints indenting in the soft flesh there in a mottled bruise. The soft pine he coaxes from you bleeds past your open mouth despite your attempt to suppress the frankly pathetic noise. 

Fuck it, this was worth it– all of it was worth it. The fear of getting it wrong, the anxiety of being caught, the panic that Simon could turn you away… All of it seeps into the darkness in the corners of the room when your superior drags his tongue across your lower lip. It’s though he’s relishing in the taste of the aftershocks of the arousal he sparks between your legs, the dopamine that rushes through you.

“Was this your plan?” Ghost grunts, grasping ahold of the scruff of your neck. Gasping weakly, you’re almost certain your eyes roll back in your head when he uses his harsh grip to steer you towards the bed. “Get me out of my fuckin’ mind so I don’t notice you takin’ off the mask?”

“That’s–” you huff, rendered breathless by Ghost’s intruding tongue, “That’s not it–”

Your pitiful attempt to excuse yourself is made useless when Ghost practically launches you onto the mattress of his bed, the rusted metal frame screaming under the sudden weight of your body. 

“No?” he queries, the usual boom of authority in his voice replaced by something that sounds far more like goading amusement as he places the hefty weight of his palm against your sternum, holding you down and thwarting any attempt to escape. 

He needn’t worry. The last thing you wanted was to leave. 

“Tell you what,” he muses in that smug tone you always hear over the comms, his free hand quick to grasp at the leather of his belt. The buckle clinks in the quiet as he works his fingers over it, “We’ll run through this mission, yeh? See if you can complete your objective, Delta?”

Your retort, or lack thereof, dies in your throat when Ghost pushes his crotch into your own. If it weren’t for the yelp of bliss that the Lieutenant had to smother with his palm, you’d hear the way he’d practically purred when he dragged his cock against you. 

“C’mon then. Try it,” he urged. 

It’s pointless, his mock-support. You just desperately reach for the waistband of his khaki uniform trousers, cockdrunk from the tease of its shape against you. Even in the low light, you can see Ghost’s scarred lips, the way they stretch into a smirk at your desperation. 

“Abandoning mission, Sergeant?” He asks you, unzipping his trousers. “Price’ll be disappointed to know this is all it takes for Delta to go AWOL.”

“Shut up,” you moan into the cold air of the cabin. You can see your breath. “Shut up and fuck me.”

When Simon removed himself from his trousers, making some glib comment about you being demanding, you marvel at the size of him. Girthy, swollen, the ruddy tip leaks precum down the arch of his cock and traces the pulsing veins. He’s rock hard and throbbing, framed by a thatch of pubic hair. 

Fumbling with your own trousers, you awkwardly try to remove them given Simon’s weighty palm still pins you down by your sternum. He watches, a glint in his eye in the low light that would almost embarrass you if you weren’t so focused on the task at hand. 

“What was the prize?” 

“H-Huh?” you stall, mind fried by Ghost’s unexpected line of enquiry. He picks up where you left off, violently yanking your trousers down your thighs and pushing your panties aside to expose your glistening cunt to his prying eyes. 

“What. Was. The. Prize?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling Ghost’s fingers press against the inside of your thighs as he probes this unexplored territory of you. His touch skirts the areas you want him most, teasing and goading you for more information. “H-Hassa-ahh!”

You barely manage the first syllable of your answer before Simon rests the arch of his cock against your slick pussy lips. His body jerks slightly at the heat of your swollen cunt, the ease with which he can slide himself through your drenched sex. 

“You got to kill Hassan?” he asked for confirmation, his voice unwavering. You wonder how he manages to stay so steady– you’re coming apart at the seams, trembling as the head of his cock bumps your clit clumsily. 

“Yes,” you breathe, eyes rolling back as he continues his laboured, steady torture. His free hand settles on your hip, arching your pelvis up slightly to meet his own. You grind your hips upward against his cock, and Simon expels a soft scoff from lungs, those piercing eyes settled on your contorting expression. 

“Mhmm,” he hums, rolling his hips again. This time it’s even slower, teasing. “A temptin’ reward–” 

Simon is interrupted by the moan that splits your lips when he drags the length of his cock heavily against your clit. It sparks arousal deep in your abdomen, clings to the inside of your thighs wetly. 

Perhaps the disturbance is one transgression too many tonight, because Simon grasps your hips so hard that you are forced to stop gliding over the length of his cock. You pine in protest, but you choke on the pitiful sound when Ghost suddenly plunges his cock inside of you. It spears you open, breaks you apart, and you find your back arching desperately against the mattress. 

The palm that had rooted itself to your sternum flies up to clasp against your mouth, smothering the shriek of bliss that threatened to expose your extracurricular activities to the rest of your squad. You sob through your teeth beneath his life line, tears welling in your eyes as you feel him stretch your walls open to make room for his intrusion. 

You can’t help yourself. You need something to grasp onto, and opt for his wrist above your face. Digging your nails into the inked flesh there, you watch as the pain sparks something dark and twisted in Simon’s pupils, his azure irises swallowed by the expanding blackness.

He likes it. You can tell. His cock arches up inside of you, pushing deep and rocking against something earth shattering inside of you. Damp with sweat already, the skin of his wrist ripples as he tightens his grip on your face, refusing to withdraw from your pussy walls and instead opting for sharp, shallow thrusts that push you up the mattress with each connection of your hips. 

“Fuck,” he spits, using his tight grasp to pull you back towards him. It’s obliterating you, ripping you apart and pushing all your pieces back together in a mangled, jumbled mess. You whimper as you suffer through his brutal pace, marvelling at how good it feels when he consistently spears your g-spot. 

“When would you have done it?” Simon asks you, a little breathless now as he chases the high that begins to build at the edges of your body, tingling and pulsing. 

“Shut up–” you beg him, the low rasp of his voice launching you towards that pleasure that threatens to consume you. Jerking your hips up to meet his, your body mindlessly reacts to the sound of his timbre. 

“Oh, no,” he chuckles, shaking his half masked face. There’s a silver laden scar that stretches across the base of his chin. It matches the one that splits his upper lip to the base of his nose, the ski mask hovering tantalisingly over the bridge. “When?” 

The seriousness of his tone makes your thighs quiver when paired with the sharp thrust he punctuates his question with. Years of training in maintaining a cover-story while a hostage are blown to bits as though Ghost has launched a mortar at your resolve, because suddenly all your state secrets are spilling out of you quicker than you can shove the incriminating words back into your traitor mouth. 

“I’d– Hagh… I’d do it j-just as you’re cummin–hhah!”

“And spoil my fun?” Ghost hums, that heavy timbre licking up your spine and sparking viscous embers at the base of your spine, “Anyone ever told you that you’re very fuckin’ selfish, Delta?” 

You’d offer a witty comment, but Ghost’s angled his hips just right, and your jaw is falling loose to let out a panicked whimper. 

“There it is, shit. Look at you, Sargeant. Fuckin’, you’re so tight–” 

You’re like a slip knot, tightening around him further with each knock of your g-spot with Simon’s ridiculously large cock-head. Prickling tears of bliss threaten to spill over the edge of your waterline, continuing to sting even when you shut your eyes. You’re shaking, trembling beneath his rocking hips as you mewl his name. 

“S-Simon! Fuck–”

Wild, wet squelches of Simon sinking into your soaked cunt echo in your skull as he ramps up his violent thrusts, the springs of his mattress screaming an unmistakable rhythm to anyone walking by. He doesn’t seem to care now though, his eyes zeroed in on your expression like he’s stalking a victim with his sniper scope. Aiming for complete obliteration. 

“C’mon Can feel you squeezin’ round me,” he murmurs, the steady tone he’d offered earlier shuddering slightly as you squeeze impossibly tight around him, coil threatening to snap, “You’re so close, Delta. C’mon, paint my cock an’ I’ll eat you out with my cum in you–” 

                           ✰

“He’s blonde.” 

Gawping jaws drop to the floor at your very simple observation, Soap’s eyes nearly rolling across the uneven, rotten floorboards after falling out of his skull. You can’t help the smug smile that threatens to tug at the edge of your lips, especially given the sensation of Ghost’s eyes boring holes into the back of your skull. 

The awe only worsens when Price gives a subtle nod of confirmation from the corner of the darkened room, crowning you the winner of this utterly ridiculous joust. 

“How do you know?” Gary is as shaken as Soap by the confidence with which you’d offered your final answer, in disbelief as to how you could have possibly obtained it without being maimed, given the egg on his forehead was still throbbing despite days of icing it with the snow from outside the safehouse.

“His pubes are. I assume the curtains match the drapes,” you shrug dismissively. 

The sheer incredulity that flashes across Johnny’s face is utterly hilarious. The smirk that had been threatening to break finally cracks across your lips at the confirmation of your victory. Ghost’s eyes appear to have lazered through your skull, singing brain matter with the ferocity of his scowl. Frankly, you couldn’t care less– you can see it in your mind's eye; the gorgeous contrast of a blood-red crosshair settling across Hassan’s forehead, the weight of the trigger beneath your finger as you pull it back.

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