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reiderwriter · 6 months

Note

can i request for a mean!spencer x bau!reader? like they are not enemies but there's just this really intense sexual tension with prompts 2, 30, 48, and 49? thank you!

#2 "I wouldn't fuck you if you were the last person on earth.” #30 "You're not as hot as you think you are.” #48 "You belonged to me before I even made you mine.” #49 "I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”

A/N: Thank you for requesting! Sorry it took almost an entire season to get it done 😭 I hope it's as good as you expected it would be :D

Warnings: slight BDSM themes, Dom!Spencer, dry humping, choking, thigh riding, finger sucking, cum play, facial, penetrative sex, use of contraception, probably more that I don't remember right now... 18+ Minors DNI

There was no one you wanted to spend the night with less than Spencer Reid.

He was annoying, and frustrating and most importantly never knew when to shut the fuck up.

No one was better at getting under your skin, and no one seemed to relish it quite like he did. It wasn't that you hated the man, just that he had the presence of an unkillable mosquito in your life.

He was irritating.

“Y/N, are you even listening to me?”

“I try not to make a habit of it,” you rolled your eyes, pushing past the man as you both finally made it to your motel room for the night.

You weren't sure if this was divine punishment or Emily's idea of a joke, but you'd ended up with Reid as your roomie for the next week.

As your case location was remote and as back waters as it could get, you'd ended up needing to bring Penelope Garcia along with you physically. And with only four rooms available, the eight members of your team had to all scramble for acceptable roommates and, having gotten off the jet last, you'd drawn the short straw.

Rossi had been quick to pair up with Luke, citing Spencer's snoring habit as reason enough, and the girls had happily fallen into two pairs. It was your lucky day.

With your hands busy with your bags, you tossed the key to Spencer quickly and waited for him to unlock the door, eager to escape the cold chill of the night.

“Hurry up, Spencer, or we'll both turn into popsicles out here.”

“Not only is that physically impossible, but it also isn't that cold out here, Y/N. Don't you think you're being a bit sensitive.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and he let out a sharp chuckle as he finally managed to unlock the door.

Despite your best wishes, stepping over the threshold didn't solve your problems. Instead it seemed to present even more.

“Fuck, how is it colder in here than it is out there?” You said, shivering violently as you stood in the doorway. If you thought that was reason enough to cure though, you thought you'd practically spit fire when you saw the sleeping arrangements for the night.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Your body forgot its fight to keep warm, letting your blood run cold as you found yourself face to face with one singular, though large, bed. Another cursory glance around, and the heart motifs on the walls and pink themes cushions on the bed suggested that this was likely the motels joke of a Honeymoon Suite.

“Emily did mention that we booked out their last four rooms.” Spencer said, walking up beside you and frowning deeply as he took in the same scene you did.

“She said nothing about the rooms being igloos though, Spencer. I never thought hypothermia was going to be my cause of death after spending the night with you in the room.”

“You think I'd shoot you.”

“I think I'd shoot myself.”

He scowled a little at that and moved to check the room's thermostat. Although it was presently reading 215° so you didn't know how much good that could do.

“There's no sofa,” you grumbled as you watched Spencer move to the small bathroom.

“And there's no hot water. And according to the sign on that table, there's nothing we can do about it until the morning.” You picked up the sign yourself, just to verify and practically moaned in frustration.

“This is insane, we'll freeze to death.”

“It has to drop below 32° in here for us to even possibly freeze death. There's no wind, rain and we have blankets, so maybe you should focus less on being dramatic and more on what we can be doing to warm up.”

“I'm sorry, Doctor Genius, whatever can I do to warm up? Please impart some of your wonderful knowledge on me, I beg.” His eyes flashed with some annoyance and you quietly enjoyed the expression, happy to have affected him as much as he affected you.

“You can start by stripping.” It was his turn to enjoy the abject look of horror that crossed your face in that moment, and you were convinced that of he let even a hint of a laugh out, you'd throttle the man.

“I'm sure you'd just love that,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, there's no water, no thermostat and no other source of heat, so if you're so worried about hypothermia, there's only one solution viable to us right now.”

“You're joking. You want us to huddle together for warmth?” You backed yourself into a corner as you tried to distanced yourself from him as he suddenly began divesting himself of clothing.

As soon as he reached the top buttons of his shirt, you let out a quick squeak and turned around.

“Unless you want me to watch you get undressed too, I suggest you hurry up and do it before I get into bed.”

You quietly cursed and started unwrapping each of your layers, fingers fumbling with the cold already seeped into your skin.

“I am not getting naked, Spencer Reid.”

“I didn't ask you to. Just get comfortable.” You turned around to shoot him a glare, but when you noticed his back was turned - and bare - you lost all memory of the purpose of the movement.

You'd never quite realised before how broad his back was. His shoulders looked strong despite his lithe frame, twisting rather attractively as he pulled his nightshirt over his head. You were almost disappointed that he wasn't facing you, suddenly curious about Spencer Reid's happy trail.

You snapped yourself out of it and continued to change, wrapping your coat around your waist to hide your legs as you switched your pants to your sleep shorts. It was an awkward fumble, but at least the lights were low.

When you were finally ready, your steps back to the bed were hurried and near painful as you felt colder than ever.

Spencer was already there, and without a second thought, you pulled the quilts up and plastered yourself to his side. He was the only thing in the entire room offering you a modicum of warmth, and you weren't going to let your personal hot water bottle go just because everything that came out of his mouth was hot air.

“So you're a big fan of this now, huh?” He said, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you in. Your back was pressed against his chest as you both laid on your sides, piles of duvet and blankets laid out on top of you. You hated to admit it, but this position was comfortable.

Maybe it was just months of working cases non-stop and perpetual singleness, but the feeling of a man at your back was infinitely pleasing.

“Don't expect anything more Spencer Reid. I wouldn't have sex with you if you were the last man alive.” The words were harsh, and if you were being honest, a little bit untrue. Your small peak at his back earlier had definitely sparked an interest in you that was bubbling up in your throat. Like bile.

“You don't have to worry about that. You're actually not as hot as you think you are.” His words were tinged with the same faux bitterness as yours, but you refused to hear it. Instead all you felt was another unpleasant heat spreading throughout you, quiet anger plotting in your stomach.

You knew you probably shouldn't push it, but you needed Spencer to eat those words. Desperately.

Your mind ticked through a few options before landing on one. If you were so unattractive, then surely there's no way he'd physically react to you.

Scooting your body closer to his, you take advantage of the less than comfortable bed, making each of your movements similar to ones you would make when getting comfortable. Except, of course, with the added bonus of making sure your ass pressed directly up against his crotch, moving up and down and grinding into him.

You felt him slightly stiffen behind you, and decided that a few we'll time groans of frustration could go a long way to spurring him on.

So you began letting little gasps and sighs out, graduating to moans when you thought he wouldn't question it, each small movement rubbing against him deliberately.

What you'd failed to remember though, was his hand on your waist. Although you knew he was awake beside you, despite the now late hour and somewhat comfortable bed, his hand held you firm. Or it did until you risking bounced yourself gently against him, and his now limp hand slipped underneath your shirt.

The moan you released then was genuine, the cool touch of his fingers against your burning skin causing you to flush and shiver at the same time. You cursed your earlier self for valuing your comfort over your general peace of mind, because as Spencer's hand once again settles centimetres away from the edge of your boob, you desperately wished for your bra back.

You stopped moving, hoping that if you just pretended to sleep for a few minutes, his hand would reach higher and he'd prove to you that he did think you were attractive. He didn't though, showing off how gentlemanly he was. It pissed you off. Most of his good qualities pissed you off, and you were sure that said more about you than him .

You tried your best to just give in, to even out your breathing and let the black haze of sleep take over but his hands on you were maddening, and you found your body reacting in much the same ways you'd wished him to react.

It didn't help that he'd casually shifted his lower body away from you slightly in your stillness, letting himself fall onto his back rather than his side. As he made this shift, his hand trailed across the expanse of your body before cutting all contact with you altogether.

So much for huddling for warmth if all he had to do to return you to record heats was stroke you like that.

You needed to feel him again, so, feigning the most realistic sleeplike movements you could muster, you turned your body in his direction, and placed your head over his chest. You weren't finished, just proceeding with caution. Your hands obviously fell over his chest, if slightly lower than you'd expect.

It was only when your leg finally came up over his that he broke his silence.

“I know you're awake, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear, a solid hand on your thigh holding it down right over his crotch. You felt your prize and grinned in your sleep.

He was hard. You'd won. It was time to play.

You opened your mouth to purr victoriously at him, but he moved so abruptly you were never expecting it.

Shifting his hands to your ass, he hauled your body over him, letting his hands stay on your hips as he began to help you shift them back and forth. You moaned at the friction, even as your head stayed rested on his chest. The movements were shallow, just a teasing but you already felt more aroused than you had in months. Slowly, your hips started moving for themselves and his hands moved onto more important things.

“Am I suddenly the last man on Earth, Y/N?” He smiled, tipping your head up so you could make eye contact with him.

“Go to hell.”

“I think we're already there, don't you?” With that, his large hands sat you up, meeting with no resistance as you let yourself become pliable.

“Show me.” He whispered, hands right on your hips, pushing into your flesh just a touch part forceful.

“Show you what?” You narrowed your eyes, but you knew exactly what it was he wanted and that you weren't going to out up much a resistance before giving it to him.

“Show me how much you want to fuck me. Since your mouth isn't honest, I'm going to have to listen to your body.” You let your hands fall to his chest, pushing lower until you reached the hem of his shirt. He'd pushed the quilts off of your torso, letting the cold air attack your upper body, so you knew your hands were cold, and the hiss he let out at the contact was satisfying enough to shut up and actually start following his directions.

You shifted your body up and down, grinding and dry humping his crotch, wishing for him to stop being a tease and just get it over with.

He wasn't letting you compromise, though. Each small sound that left your body met with a soft smirk from him, each halt in your movements a prod from his hands. You'd tried to still your hips entirely once out of frustration, but he'd delivered a slap to your ass that had you gushing, desperate to reach a release even if he'd only allow you it this way.

“I don't think you're trying hard enough.” His voice was lower than before, something gravelly to it as he began pulling your clothing off one item at a time. Your sweater went first, before he flipped your positions and shimmered your shorts off your body, taking underwear soon after and then you were bare to him and he was rolling you once again.

“That's better. Now, where were we?” He moved your hips for you again, but his eyes stayed focused in the rigid peaks of your nipples, bouncing with each rock of your hips. You weren't sure if it was the cold temperature of the room or your sheer need to cum that had them reacting, but you knew he was seconds away from wrapping his tongue around one and giving into you, so you just accepted it.

His hands stayed put, still on your hips, though the direct contact was heating you slightly more. If you looked down, you were sure you'd see a wet patch against his sweat pants, so you didn't.

You just moaned and whimpered searching for your orgasm on top of him.

“What's wrong, Y/N? Do you need my help to finish?” He noticed your every insecurity, your weakness and exploited it. You were running close to inconsolable, desperate to hit that climax now, more than ever before, so you just nodded at him profusely, desperate for him to touch you in whatever way he could.

It wasn't his hand you felt on your clit, though. It was your own, he wrapped a hand around your fingers and bought them up to the correct stop, showing you exactly what he'd like to see.

“Touch yourself, Y/N. Touch yourself and wish it was me.” With the friction from grinding against him for so long, the satisfaction from the rigid tent underneath you and your hands taking his guidance, it was really not long before your pussy finally twitched familiarly and sighed, soaking his pants underneath you as you shuddered in delight.

He had to ruin your moment of bliss by talking.

“Is that enough, slut? Or do you really need to be filled right now?”

You didn't care if he saw you sticking your tongue down his throat as you collapsed on top of his chest as an answer to that question, or if he saw it as what it was - a desperate attempt to shut him up. All you knew was that he tasted sweet and hot, and that his hand wrapped around your throat was also hot as he pulled you up and off of him.

“Let me be clear. I am in charge.” A simple shift of his legs was enough to flip your positions, landing on top of you ungrateful, but you didn't care.

Using his new high ground, he wedged your legs open and slid a single finger inside you as you moaned. He too found success in silencing you by sticking his tongue down your throat, forcing you to battle him for dominance you knew he'd never allow you.

Having cum only moments before, you truly believed that there was no way he was going to push another one out of you after so little time. The night was full of surprises though.

As you relaxed into his intrusion, he opened you up with a second finger, then a third. You already felt yourself building towards your end goal, but it was his head dropping to tour cold nipples that finally had you cumming around his fingers. His mouth was wet, tongue warm against your skin, and he toyed with you so effectively, you practically forgot your previous qualms.

“See? You belong to me before I've even made you mine.” It irked you that he was right. Had this been any other man, you're sure you'd be bragging about such passionate sex for weeks with your friends. You were resentful that it was him, but you didn't want it to end yet.

Your arms pulled up to hide your face as he traced kisses up and down your chest, fingers coming free to pay attention to your since abandoned nipples.

“I can't wait to fuck you. You're going to feel so good wrapped around my cock,” he whispered into your ear as he pulled your arms away from your face, making sure your eyes were focused on him before his next line.

“You have no clue what you started. I'm so fucking obsessed with you.”

His hands fell to your face, where his thumb pushed against your lips, slipping into your mouth where you sucked on it, getting it wet as his cock teased the folds of your pussy, running up and down with each gentle push of his hips. You entertained him for a moment before pushing up slightly, his thumb falling from your mouth as you blindly reached for the bedside table. Pulling it open, you were relieved to find what you were looking for.

“If you're so fucking obsessed with me, Spencer, show me.” Carefully unwrapping the package, you grabbed his dick and gently slid the condom onto him, making sure it was secure before you propped yourself back on the pillows, waiting for him to initiate once again.

“Pillow princess. You're acting like I haven't been dreaming of exactly this for the last 12 months.”

You couldn't waste time processing those words before he again ran his cock through the folds of your pussy, then sank himself deep inside you. And you meant deep.

The sudden impact robbed you of your thoughts, pushing out every miserable thought and leaving you with just Spencer and pleasure. The two concepts soon became synonymous as his hips lazily sent him careening in and out of you.

His strokes gained speed gradually until the only words shared between you were the animalistic pants of pleasure, his voice driving you insane as you tried not to get overstimulated before you could cum for a third time.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, Spencer-” your moans turned to screams as your orgasm rolled over you, his dick hitting just the right spot inside you that forced your nails to bite his skin, and forced your voice to scratch at your throat as it pushed up from your gut.

Noticing your relentless twitching, Spencer immediately pulled out of your cunt, allowing you a moment of reprieve. Pushing up to his knees, he moved to your side, his crotch parallel with your face as he rolled the condom off his dick.

Stroking himself to completion, he came right over your lips, your eyes dripping with lust as you licked them clean, catching the dribbles that fell down your chin with your fingers and popping them into your mouth as well.

After your whorish display of desperation, it took a full ten minutes for your brain function to resume.

In that time, Spencer had cleaned both of you up speedily with a hotel towel, wrapped an arm around you and began spooning you once again, his chest warm and comfortable against your back, his scent intoxicating.

It didn't stop being so when you finally came down from your post-cum bliss.

“You're not allowed to tell anyone what happened tonight,” you said, turning over to look him in the eye.

“Nothing from tonight, got it. What about tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I allowed to tell them how I plan to wake you up tomorrow, and how your current state of dress made it possible, if not directly invited it?”

You flushed at his words, tingling already at the mention of tomorrow.

“We're sharing a room, Y/N. If you think I'm not going to be inside you whenever were both free, you're entirely mistaken.” His voice was clear - not even a hint of hesitancy in his voice.

“I'm not letting you go that easily, Y/N.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you

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vivwritesfics · 8 months

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Daddy Ricciardo

Just some Danny Ric marriage/parent headcannons. Fluffy AF

Have you ever met somebody so in love with their girlfriend that it consumes their entire being?

Well, if you're friends with Daniel Ricciardo, you certainly have

Daniel was utterly obsessed with Y/N when they were dating

He brought her along to every race and showed her off whenever he got the chance

Any Y/N fan pages were probably run by him

Daniel was obviously a man who couldn't wait to get married

Especially to Y/N

You know that bit from The Office when Jim shows off the ring he got the moment he and Pam start dating?

That would have been Danny if he got the chance on drive to survive

No, Daniel got the ring on their six month anniversary

He already knew she was the one

But six months felt like the perfect timing

He didn't propose right away

Things kept getting in the way

But then, there was the perfect storm

Y/N had just come to watch a race

She hadn't been to the last one and had hardly been on the phone to him

Danny thought something was wrong

When she came to the race, Daniel was overjoyed

But then, in the hotel room after the race, she'd gone all serious

"Danny, I've got something to tell you. But I need you to promise me one thing," she said, grabbing a hold of his hands

"Anything," he replied, utterly concerned

Y/N sucked in a deep breath, calming her nerves

"Don't freak out."

When she told him, Daniel didn't freak out

He took in the information silently

Why would he freak out?

This was going to be the best day of his life

Two little words, that was all Y/N had said to him

Two words with so much weight to them

When Y/N was done and looking ready to start crying, Daniel slipped from the bed and pulled the ring box out of his pocket

He got down onto one knee and opened it

"You've just made me the happiest man in the world. Want to make me slightly happier and marry me?"

Y/N found a dress, her dream dress

Three weeks before the wedding, that dress no longer fit

The joys of being pregnant

Sobbing, Y/N made her mother take her shopping for a new dress

Before the wedding, at the rehearsal, Daniel had said he wasn't going to get drunk

If his soon to be wife couldn't drink, then he wouldn't either

But Y/N had insisted

Her soon to be husband was cute when he was drunk

So, Daniel had a few

He had more as the reception went on

Max and Christian were there, drinking alongside him

By the end of the night, Y/N was sat at the table, hand on her bump, cheeks rosy as she laughed at Daniel

He had pulled Max in for a dance and the Dutchman couldn't say no

He literally couldn't say no, because drunk Daniel wasn't listening

The honeymoon was gorgeous, like a dream

They went to the Maldives, stayed in a luxury resort

Four months later, Y/N was going into labour

It was, quite frankly, terrifying

Fifteen hours later, Charlie Ricciardo was born

He was his fathers pride and joy

Where Daniel used to show off Y/N, he now showed off Charlie and Y/N

His camera roll was all pictures of Y/N and his son

As Charlie got older, they started taking him to the races

He had little headphones to wear as the cars went around the circuit

He'd wave (aka, Y/N would hold him on her hip and wave his hand for him when his daddy came into the pits)

Charlies first word was car

Daniel was driving at the time, during free practice

He was so pissed that he missed it

Daniel was the fun parent

He was the one who let Charlie stay up past his bed time and let him have chocolate and fizzy drinks

In moderation, of course

But then Charlie did something scary

"Mummy, I want a brother," he said

Y/N couldn't reply

She had to turn around and pour herself a glass of wine

So, he asked his father

Daniel was so happy to hear it

If Charlie wanted a sibling, he was going to get a sibling

So, Daniel brought it up with Y/N

"Danny, no," she said the moment he suggested it. "When I was pregnant with Charlie and you were travelling for work, I was struggling so much without you. I can't do that again"

Daniel tucked some hair behind her ear

"Don't worry, Angel. I can talk to Christian and get the last few months of your pregnancy off," he said. "Keep you and Charlie travelling with me until then"

That sounded amazing to Y/N

She loved her little family and it only seemed to be growing

She jumped onto her husband

"Get ready for the night of your life, honey badger"

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x female reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 #DR3 #dr3 x reader

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farfromharry · 4 months

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Summary: lando’s tired and falls asleep in your arms

Lando Norris x reader

w/c 650

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

The first day of winter break was usually spent asleep the whole day for Lando. He was taking the opportunity to recover from a long, draining season and everyone around him understood.

Never before had he been in a relationship though that lasted until winter break.

It was understandable that you didn’t know about his tradition. When November 28th approached, you wanted nothing more than to spend the day celebrating all of his achievements and his new found freedom. You were excited about being able to spend a few weeks in his presence where he didn’t have to work all the time.

You had been excitedly telling him all the things you wanted to do for days now, and he didn’t have the heart to turn you down. He was just going to have to suck up the exhaustion.

That morning you woke him up barely past 7. It took a few attempts to get his eyes to flutter open, and when they finally did all he gave you was a sleepy smile.

“Ready for breakfast?” you asked, twirling individual curls of his around your finger after her buried his head in your neck.

He hummed.

Throughout the entire meal he could have fallen asleep. It wasn’t that you were boring him with your conversation, he would listen to you for hours even on a bad day, but he could barely process what you were saying.

All day long as the 2 of you explored and went through your exciting itinerary he shook off sleep so he could make you happy. And for the most part he didn’t think you suspected anything. You believed his white lies of ‘resting his eyes’ behind his sunglasses while you took a brief break in your plans to grab a drink together.

By the time you made it back to the hotel to start getting ready for dinner, he didn’t know if he could keep up his act much longer.

You were about to rush off to your room to pick out something to wear when he grabbed your arm.

“Can we just have 5 minutes? Wanna love you for a bit,” he muttered. That would be his excuse to take a quick breather. There would be no way you could resist when he was giving you those puppy eyes.

Your heart fluttered and you beamed. “Of course.”

Despite not being tired yourself, you let him lead you to the couch for a little. He got himself nice and comfortable in your arms, head on your chest and practically laid completely on top of you.

You were too caught up in your own thoughts of what you might wear to feel his breathing even out and his body go slack. He’d fallen asleep and you hadn’t even noticed, not then or not when you began to talk to him either.

“I was thinking…” Your rambles about the plan for dinner had gone completely unheard by the man, but of course you didn’t know that. “What do you think?” you asked.

A beat of silence passed, which you assumed was him making up his mind. When you didn’t receive an answer after another few seconds of quiet though, you weren’t sure what was happening.

You frowned. “Lando?”

You were careful when moving to look at him and you were glad as soon as you caught sight of his peaceful face. It made you warm inside to know he could find himself so relaxed in your arms that he could fall asleep— even if you were unaware of the exhaustion that had been looming over him all day.

Despite how excited you’d been previously about a fancy dinner, just the 2 of you, you weren’t going to wake him up now. You had no problem letting him get the sleep he needed and then sharing a midnight feast of room service later on.

“Sleep well, lover.”

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#formula 1 #formula one #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you

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macfrog · 10 months

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rack 'em

the girlies watched triple frontier last week and it was the single most inspiring thing i have ever seen so here’s a lil frankie fic to cleanse my mind. dedicated to my babies @gracieispunk (who put this concept in my head for the wee laddies), @hellishjoel & @strang3lov3 🤍

pairing: bbf!frankie morales x f!reader

summary: when your parents ask you to housesit for them, you take the opportunity to spend some quality time back in your hometown, hanging with your older brother and...getting reacquainted with his best friend

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) reader is santiago's younger sister, she and frankie do not get along, teasing & touching, dubcon (reader is a little drunk, frankie is not), oral sex (f receiving), alcohol consumption, quick mention of dr*gs, cursing, frankie's a bit of a dick but reader gives as good as she gets

word count: 6.1k (cause apparently i don’t know how to write short fics 🤪)

main masterlist

When you were four, a new family moved in across the street. Nobody knew them – your mom spent two straight days trying to scoop for information. Who they were, where they’d moved from, what was with the banged-up Ford pickup they drove. Nobody knew a thing.

You didn’t take much interest, being four years old – two months shy of your fifth birthday, by the way – and too invested in whatever politics a woman of your age finds herself wrapped up in, but you noticed one key thing about them.

The mom had tattoos.

Two full sleeves. Colorful ones, too. A bright red heart on her shoulder, a green snake wrapped around her forearm – among others. It was fucking cool, alright? No matter how much your mom whispered to Ms. Teller over the fence about them.

One night, when you were supposed to be in bed, you snuck out of your room and crossed the landing to your brother’s. Santiago and his friends were all staying at Tom’s, and you knew that in his desk he had permanent markers. You clicked the door open, as quiet as you could, and crept over his matted carpet to the drawer. You took one Sharpie, and spent the night adding snakes and hearts and whatever else came to mind to your Barbies’ arms, legs, faces, necks.

They looked fucking awesome. Just like that mom across the street.

But somehow or other – and I’m not blaming anyone – the next morning, a drawing appeared on the bathroom wall. In Sharpie. Your mom hit the roof.

As soon as Santi got home, she dragged him by the ear into the bathroom and pointed a trembling finger at the drawing. You forget what it was – it’s been years, and you were never much of an artist.

His plea of innocence helped him none; she knew he owned Sharpies, knew he sucked just as bad as you did at drawing, and he was grounded for three whole weeks. No soccer practice, no TV, no PlayStation. Which, at thirteen, is basically a stint in Rikers.

Your brother, though…he was always better than your mom at reading your mind. He saw the guilt on your face plain as the black marker behind the toilet tank. He cornered you in your bedroom as soon as she went back downstairs, and established three key rules going forward.

One: do not enter his room ever again.

Two: no touching his stuff.

And three: anytime he took the fall for you, you owed him. Big time.

You’ve followed the rules ever since. You barely knew what the inside of his room looked like, growing up. But it worked, ‘cause ever since the Sharpie incident of ’99, you two remained closer than most siblings with an eight-year age gap.

So, now, two days into a two-week stay back in your hometown to housesit while your parents head off on a cruise to celebrate their anniversary, you’re in the car with him. Listening to music, bitching about your mom, arguing over the best Cola flavor.

It’s like old times.

“She said, How’s my baby girl?” you yell over Stevie Nicks’s voice, reading from your phone.“And when I said I’m fine, she said, No, I meant the dog. Is she fucking serious?”

Santiago’s head tilts back with laughter, dark curls nudging against the headrest. He’s driving you to Lucky’s, a local sports bar he and his buddies frequent. He promised when he picked you up at the airport he’d take you out, get you drunk, and he was holding to it.

You pull your legs down off the dash as he turns into the parking lot, pulling in right under the white fluorescent sign, four-leaf clover flashing under it.

“She’s looking forward to seeing you when they get back,” he tells you, switching the engine off.

“Oh, yeah? That why she didn’t even hang around to see me before they left?”

He hands you a smug grin, shrugging his shoulders. “Can’t have it all, big shot. You move a thousand miles away, you forfeit your chance of being the favorite.”

You swing your door open and hop out, chasing him around the car to follow him inside. “You say that like I was ever in the fucking running.”

He snorts, pushing the door open, and a loud cheer roars through the bar. You blush as you follow your brother across the room to two tables full of familiar faces.

“Hey, baby.” Your best friend’s arms pull you in, her gold hoop earrings cold against your cheek. She smells like rose and cedarwood.

“Mal,” you hum, smiling as she pulls away.

“My mom said your parents only just made it on board,” she says, detaching strands of her long, black hair from the cuff of your jacket. “Said they had a flat tire and had to race to get to the boat.”

Your head jerks back. “She never told me any of that. Just asked how Ange was.”

Mal snorts.

“Hey, lil Santi!”

You glance over your shoulder to watch as Benny Miller stalks over, almost shoving some old guy off his feet, arms wide open, wide grin spread across his lips. His brother, Will, follows behind, and gives your shoulder a loving slap when Benny pulls you in for a hug.

“How’s Boston treatin’ ya?”

“Good,” you reply. “How’s…MMA treating you?”

“Good!” he echoes, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

It’s kinda part of the deal that your older brother’s friends become brothers in their own right to you, especially when you’re as young and easily-influenced as you were. They used to use you in their elaborate plans – send you in as a distraction while they filled their pockets with food at parties, or use your smaller stature to their advantage when attempting to break into places they shouldn’t.

By the time you were old enough to follow their orders, they were well into their teens. Which is basically grown-up, as far as six-year-old you was concerned. They were always allowed to do things you’re still not sure your mom would permit you to do at twenty-eight, like disappear all day without checking in, or come home black and blue after an organized street brawl with the boys from the other side of the neighborhood.

But there was no denying they cared about you. Will, Benny, and Tom, at least. They showed their affection by ruffling your hair as they passed, or sneaking you candy under the table even after your mom had told you you’d had enough. They’d christened you ‘lil Santi’, a name that – despite the embarrassment it always casts over you anytime you hear it – still sticks to this day.

Your brother’s friends were family to him, and, by extension, family to you.

Well. All but one.

Frankie Morales – nickname Catfish: long-time best buddy of your big brother, and long-time fucking asshole. There isn’t one thing on Earth that you two see eye to eye on, except for that very fact: he hates you almost as much as you hate him.

Always have, always will.

He’s in trouble almost regularly for drug-related stuff you don’t bother asking Santiago about. You don’t need to hear details to know he’s a pain in the ass. He’s been antagonizing you for as long as you’ve known him – where the others ruffled your hair, he’d shove into your shoulder as he passed, sending you – and whatever you were holding – flying. Any attempt you made at conversation with any one of them resulted in an argument between you and Frankie.

You hated him. Fucking hated him.

And tonight, you almost think yourself lucky. Almost go over to thank Santi for not inviting him, when you notice the silhouette of his baseball cap and that denim button up hunched over in a bar stool, and your eyes narrow.

You can’t help yourself. It’s been a years-long feud. And you’re old enough to take him on now. So, you stride over.

“You here to poison my drink?”

“What?” he asks, shaking his head. Already exasperated just by the sight of you.

“I bet you cheered the loudest when I walked in.”

He shrugs. “Cheered when your brother gave me fifty bucks to show face.”

Your upper lip curls. When the bartender notices you standing, elbows propped on the bar, he leans over.

“Beer, please.” Your smile twists into a grimace when you catch Frankie watching you. “What are you doing here? You have to be the person least excited to see me home.”

“I told you,” he says, lifting the bottle to his lips, “I’m bein’ paid.”

“Alright, so what do I gotta pay you to make you leave?”

Frankie scoffs, opens his mouth to answer what you’re sure is a comment laced with just as much venom, when Will’s strong arms slap down on each of your shoulders.

“We buyin’ our favorite veterinary nurse a drink, Francisco?”

You take your beer from Nick’s outstretched hand, sliding him the cash in return, and hold it up to Will in reply. “I’m good, thanks. Wouldn’t wanna eat into that fifty bucks, Catfish,” you mutter, turning to wander off.

You weave in and out of bodies, making your way to the opposite side of the bar where the pool tables sit. Doused in the warm strip light over the green felt, Santi chalks his cue ready to play against Mal, who’s already lining up her shot.

You hop up on a stool right next to the table, glancing back over to the bar where Frankie sits, now turned to face your direction. His elbow sits on the wooden surface, head turns from the football game showing behind the bar, over to you. And when he sees you looking, turns back to the TV screen, cool expression never changing.

“You done?” Mal asks Santiago, feeding the cue through her ring-decorated fingers.

He nods, tossing the chalk back over to you. “Better get your purse out, Bennett. Lotta sober people in here, all gonna want a free drink once you lose.”

“As if,” she breathes, and breaks the rack.

Somewhere throughout the game – a grueling and controversial one, by all accounts – Frankie makes his way over, following Will. You’re thankful when he plants himself on the other side of the table, one hand in his jeans pocket, the other around a bottle of beer. Though the light only comes up to his chest, right where the last button is done up, you notice him looking. Every fucking glance.

It pisses you off. Not the glancing. The way it makes you feel having him watch you. Wherever it comes from, you swallow it down with one big gulp of alcohol.

The game ends in a questionable loss. This side of the table swears the white skimmed off of Mal’s final solid when Santi hit it, right before it potted the black. The other side objected, claimed it was a clean shot ‘n you all know it. A winner wasn’t officially announced, but, being that Mallory Bennett is a force of nature where her competitive nature is concerned, Santiago was forced to buy the loser’s round.

She saunters up to you with her free whiskey in her hand, silver jewelry clinking off of the cold glass.

“Proud of yourself?” you ask, smirking.

She hands you your third beer of the night, sweeping her silky hair out of her face. “It hit it, alright? I saw it move.”

“Was that before or after you nudged the table?”

Mal holds a finger to her lips. You swat her hand away and the pair of you giggle, leaning into each other like schoolgirls whispering secrets in the playground.

“You know something,” Santiago materializes over Mal’s shoulder, shaking his head, “if you gotta cheat to beat me, I’ll give you the win.”

“Oh, get out,” you throw back. “Don’t blame her for your bad aim. Ms. Teller could’ve hit that shot and she’s got cataracts in both eyes.”

Your brother nods at you, tongue in his cheek. “Alright, smartass. Grab a cue.”

You scoff. Look around the room, shaking your head. The crowd has dispersed a little, folks have turned back to the TV screens, shifted focus back to the alcohol in their glasses. And then you look back to Santiago, holding his arms out.

“Alright. Fuck it.”

You hop down and snatch the second cue, wandering around the table while he racks the balls. He lifts the triangle, rolls the white over to you, and tells you to break.

The multicolored balls scatter in a fleet, two stripes tumble into pockets, and you stand back to survey your options. There’s a third stripe close to a pocket on the right, so you wander around to your left and turn.

“’scuse me,” you mutter, nudging Frankie’s stomach with the bottom of your cue.

He shoots you a dead-eyed stare, and takes one step back. And then his eyes drop, and you feel like you could slap him.

But you’re three – almost four – beers deep, and there are heads turning to watch how this plays out, and you can feel the bassline of the music rippling up from the soles of your feet all through your body, and you can feel the heat of his stare on the backs of your thighs, right where the hem of your dress sits.

Suddenly, slapping isn’t what you want to do to him.

Your head turns back to the pool table and you bend over, drawing the cue back between almost shaking fingers, and slam it into the white. It fires into the red striped ball, which hits the corner of the cushion, millimeters away from falling into the pocket.

You sigh, straightening up and waiting for your brother to begin his taunting, but it never comes. Instead, he fishes into his pocket for his phone, tapping the screen and holding it to his ear.

“Yep?” There’s a pause, Santiago’s face sours, and then he glances around the bar. “Right now? Really? No, it’s just…” He sighs. “Alright. I’ll be there. Just…I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He hangs up the phone and curses under his breath, then turns back to you, answering the question on your expression with: “One of our informants just got himself killed. I gotta go.”

“You haven’t even taken a shot yet,” you huff, taking his cue when he holds it out.

“I’ll make it up to you, hermana, promise. How are you gonna get home?”

You shrug. Mumble an, “I dunno.”

His eyes scan the room, passing over Will – already worse for wear, leaning shakily against a nearby table slurring to a group of strangers, then to Benny – stumbling out of the bar door with some girl on his arm, and finally land on the figure behind you, sliding a bowl of peanuts across the table to himself.

“Morales,” Santiago calls, and you throw the cues down on the felt.

“No, no way,” but your brother is already pushing past you to get to his friend. “Pope, no fucking w–”

Frankie turns, handful of nuts, cheek full and chewing.

“I gotta go, trouble at work. Can you do me a favor, man, ‘n make sure she gets home alright?”

“No,” you repeat. “He is not taking me home.”

“Baby,” Santi pleads, “just go with him, please?”

“I’ll walk. It’s, like, a twenty-minute walk.”

“No way. Mom would kill me.”

“Well, then, we just don’t tell her. Pope, please.”

He ignores you. “You are not walking home after dark. No.”

“Probably be safer than in the truck with him.”

Frankie’s head stops flitting between the two of you and his glare settles on yours. “Fuck you,” he spits, shaking his head.

“Right back at you,” you reply, insincere smile on your lips.

Santiago puts his palms together and holds them out to you. “Look, just – please. Just this once. I’ll owe you one.”

He doesn’t owe you one often. Makes a point of deliberately trying not to owe you one. This is an interesting offer. You sigh, and roll your eyes.

“Fine. You better fucking pay me back, though!”

“You got it,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, man,” he whispers to Frankie as he passes, slipping through the crowd toward the exit.

You and Frankie are left, two feet apart, filled with silence and resentment.

“You looking for someone else to hand your ass to you, lil Santi?” he asks, tossing another handful of peanuts into his mouth.

“You’re funny.” You hand him a smile, which drops the second he looks at it.

But when you turn back to the table and lift the cues, you hand one to him. Push it into his chest, shoot him a narrow-eyed glance.

“One game. And only ‘cause I need a sub.”

He dusts his hands together, shrugs. “Shouldn’t take me too long.”

You stalk back over to Mal, who’s giggling into her glass. “You two are unbelievable.”

“Don’t.” You hold your hand up, taking another swig of beer as Frankie lines up.

On his first shot, he pots that same red you were trying to hit before. His eyes lift only for a second, but you catch the cocky look he throws you and screw your face up.

“Fucking…ass,” you whisper.

Frankie’s shoulders jump, his teeth take his bottom lip. He’s laughing to himself when he takes his next shot, and pots another stripe. And then he stands up straight, holds his hands out.

“Just tell me when.”

“When what?”

“To start going easy on you.”

Fuck off. Fuck off, fuck you, fuck this. Fuck!

One more ball potted and finally, fucking finally, he misses a shot. It’s an impossible shot, anyway, there’s no way in hell he was gonna make it, but that’s not what matters. What matters is the way you twirl your cue in your fingers, then lift it and wander around the table, squeezing between Frankie and the wooden edge to get to your shot.

Your ass brushes past his jeans, and when you turn your head to whisper a sarcastic Sorry, he fucking growls. Low, almost inaudible. But just enough for you to notice, and enough for you to keep pissing him off.

The buzz you’re getting from antagonizing him this much must awaken some sort of billiards skillset you never knew you fucking had, because you pocket four balls in quick succession. Red, then green, then blue, and purple. There’s one ball between you when Frankie rounds the table, eyes scanning the felt for the next best shot he can take.

“Hurry the fuck up,” you mutter as he passes by you, on his third lap of the table.

He tsks. “Impatient,” he replies, shoulder brushing yours heavily. You feel the rough denim of his jeans graze your thighs, the weight of him against your backside for the second time. You push back, leaning into him as he moves past, then leans over, slinks his cue between his fingers, and takes his shot.

The yellow sails into the nearest pocket like there’s a magnet pulling it. The purple does the exact same – he barely has to tap it with the tip of the cue and it’s dropping in atop its predecessor.

Frankie turns, shimmying a little up the table, hip nudging yours out of the way. “Move,” he mumbles, shutting one eye to aim for the black. “Come on…” he breathes, and then shoots.

It bounces off of the opposite side of the table, thudding off of the cushion before it’s rolling toward the pocket and dropping in with a plunk.

He stands, fixing his baseball cap, and leans the cue against the table. “Good game, loser,” he says, ruffling your hair as he passes you.

“What age are you?” you sneer as he wanders back off to his beer, waiting for him on the table next to his bowl of peanuts.

Will wraps an unsteady arm around your shoulder as Frankie tips his bottle against his lips. He’s swaying, dragging you left and right with him as if you’re on a boat.

“He’s…he’s always been the best outta us all,” Will slurs, using his bottle to point at Frankie. “’s why he’s such a good pilot. Good aim.”

You sigh, pushing his heavy arm off yourself and slip back over to Mal, who hands you a sad smile and fixes your hair.

“It was a good attempt,” she says.

“Oh, shut up,” you reply, tossing your bottle up and draining the last of it onto your tongue. “I need another drink.”

You cross the room, suddenly less blurry and tilted, more boring and flat, and lean over the bar. “Nick,” you call, and he twists around, “grab me another–”

“It’s alright, Nick,” a voice yells over your shoulder, “I think she’s good.”

You spin around and it’s that stupid fucking baseball cap and the stupid denim button up again.

“What, I’m not allowed to drink now?”

Frankie’s head cocks. “You don’t think you’ve had enough?”

“I’ve had three. Three beers. The fuck is your problem?”

He tuts, glances left and right, and then back to you. “I think I should get you home.”

“I think you should mind your business.”

“Are you this fucking difficult with everyone when you’re drunk?”

“Nope,” you beam at him, “just you.”

He lets go of the grip he has on your arm and starts backing away. “I’m leaving, baby,” he tells you, nodding goodbye to Nick. “You’re either coming, or Pope’s gonna hear all about it.”

You ball your fists, watching the door swing closed behind him. Your feet stay rooted to the ground, eyes flitting from the parking lot over to Mal, who lifts her arms in a question. You shake your head in response, and her shoulders drop.

Sorry, you mouth, beginning to walk off in Frankie’s footsteps.

Mal blows you a kiss, winks once, and then salutes you goodbye. You shoulder out of the bar.

The ride back to your parents’ place is silent, except for the dull drone of whatever fucking music Frankie has choking out of his radio. You watch your hometown pass by, never taking your eyes off of the blurry streetlights or passing mailboxes, refusing to turn your head further than the middle of the windscreen at him.

He’s humming along to the song, jaw swinging as he chews on gum, arm hanging out of his open window. Everything he does is so fucking irritating, like a constant buzzing in your ear, an eyelash stuck in your eye, the feeling of stepping on a wet floor in socks.

So why, every time you do sneak a glance of him out of your peripheral, does the sight of those focused brown eyes, the strands of gray in his beard, the way his curls flick under the brim of his cap – why does it all stir something inside of you?

Frankie pulls up across the street from your house, white wood a milky blue in the moonlight. You unbuckle your seatbelt and let the strap whip off of your body, rattling against the interior of the truck. The most you’re willing to offer him is a nod of the head in thanks, which he returns, and your fingers hook around the door latch.

“Hey, mind if I come in ‘n use your bathroom?” he asks.

You pause. “Uh, yeah. I mind. No.”

“Come on, baby, I gotta piss like a racehorse.”

You scoff, ignoring him and slip down out of the truck. The door slams closed and you wander over to your parents’ drive, hearing a second slam as you cross the street.

“Uh, where do you think you’re going?”

“If your mom knew you weren’t letting me use her bathroom, she’d kill you, ‘n you know it.”

“My mom doesn’t know you like I know you, asshole,” you retort, but he’s still following you to the front door. “Just – alright. Do me a favor and disinfect it once you’re done. I don’t need them coming home to piss all over the floor.”

“You think my aim’s that bad? Just schooled you in a game of pool.”

You sigh, refusing to rise, and open the door. There’s the gentle scuffing of claws on the wooden flooring, trotting nearer and nearer in the dark hallway, and then the weight of your childhood dog shoves into your body.

“Hi, Angie. Hi, girl,” you whisper, scratching the dog’s white fur, her front paws against your tummy.

She jumps down when Frankie slips in behind you, wandering over with her tail swinging back and forth. He crouches down and holds his hand out, cooing, “Hi, baby,” as she nuzzles against his palm.

“She likes most folks who come by,” you utter, hanging your coat over the banister. “Don’t think you’re special.”

“She always loved me most,” he says, still fussing over the pup, “didn’t you, girl? Yeah, yeah you did.”

You roll your eyes and wander upstairs, leaving Frankie to find the bathroom, use it, and fuck off on his own.

It’s been almost eight years since you last lived here, but your room still looks oddly similar. Same bedframe, different sheets. Same wallpaper, only not covered in posters of your favorite bands. Same shelves, too, just that they hold stuff like vases and seashells and other random ornaments your mom’s picked up, rather than a collection of your favorite movies or framed photos of you and your friends.

You pull your dress over your shoulders and kick your boots off, grabbing a tee from your bag to sleep in. The Nirvana logo lies loose across your chest, the hem dancing along the line of your panties.

As you kneel on the mattress, tossing the million and one fucking pillows your mom has stacked down to the foot of the bed, you hear the door creak open.

“Damn,” Frankie mutters, glancing around the room, “haven’t been in here since I was, what, seventeen?”

“Weren’t welcome then, still not welcome now.”

“You still got that Black Eyed Peas poster rolled up somewhere?” He’s walking in, boots scuffing along the wooden floor.

“Are you lost?”

He looks over to you, stood by the bed, t-shirt barely reaching your thighs. “You know something, you ‘n your brother are so fucking different, it amazes me you’re related.”

“I imagine there’s a lot that amazes you, dumbass.”

He scoffs. There’s a hint of genuine humor in it. Like he’s impressed. And then his eyes scan down your body, lingering on the bare skin of your legs, shifting up to the pink cotton of your panties. They shoot back up when you speak again.

“Seriously, dude. What are you still doing here?”

Frankie turns to the dresser by the window, adorned with framed pictures of you and Santi as kids. “Making sure you get home alright, like Pope told me to.”

“Well,” you shrug, “I’m home, ‘n I’m alright. So…”

He picks up a silver frame; inside, faded by the sun and years that have passed, lives a photograph of you and your brother. He’s on his BMX bike, wide, toothless grin, and you’re behind him, standing on the pegs and gripping onto his t-shirt sleeves as you battle not to fall off.

Frankie laughs a little, turning the frame to show you. “You were always so fuckin’ annoying, you know that?” And then, with a shake of his head as he sets the frame back down, “Still are.”

You cock your head, throwing your hands up with an infuriated sigh. “If I’m so annoying, then why are you still here?”

The look he gives when he turns back around answers that question for you, in a way that his words never could. Never would, to be honest. He’d never admit the thoughts running through his head right now, same as you won’t admit that, likewise, they’re running through yours.

It’d be fucking weird. It’d be wrong, hooking up with his best friend’s little sister. Santi only asked him to get you home safe, not follow you inside, walk straight into your bedroom, look at you the way he’s looking at you right now, silhouetted by the streetlight shining through your still-open shades.

So then, why can’t he walk away?

You make to step forward, and Frankie’s already moving. He meets you halfway, stood on some fancy-looking rug your mom probably spent too much money on, his arms instantly finding your waist underneath your short tee.

“You fuckin’ piss me off, you know that?”

“I know,” you breathe, bottom lip brushing against his, “I know.”

He pushes you backward, sends you stumbling across the floor on your toes until the back of your calves hit the mattress and you fall, dragging him down on top of you. You knock the baseball cap from his head and run your hands through his brown curls, pulling him nearer as his hands begin to move north under the worn cotton of your shirt.

His rough hands cup your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples as his lips fall to your neck, sucking a bruise into your soft skin.

“Frankie,” you breathe, “what the fuck are we–?”

“Shut up,” he whispers back, teeth grazing over your collarbone. He’s moving down, kissing over your tee as he goes, until he’s kneeling on the floor, your legs dangling off the bed either side of his body.

You push yourself up onto your elbows, watching him as he presses fleeting kisses to the insides of your thighs, making his way closer and closer to your center, covering ground painfully slow.

“Would you – just – fucking – get there?” you ask, head tilting back with a groan.

“Always so fucking impatient,” he mutters, pulling your legs further apart. “Makes sense, though,” he whispers, finger hooking around your underwear, “already so wet.”

“Dick,” you hiss, laying back flat on the bed.

Frankie holds the lace off of your core and then dips his jaw, lips lightly ghosting across your folds. You hum with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance, ready to buck your hips up to him if it’ll just make him move faster.

But you don’t have to wait a second longer. He licks one broad stripe up your center, pressing one chaste kiss to your clit before his tongue dips where you need him most. Your legs go to clamp shut, stopped by his shoulders.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you moan, hand coming down to knot your fingers in his hair.

He hums against your pussy, tongue lapping inside you, nose at the perfect angle for you to rut your clit against.

“Fuck…” you repeat, and he fucking laughs against you. “Quit it,” you hiss, and he lifts his head.

Your eyes shoot open, finding his. Alarmed meeting cool.

“Fine,” he says, smirking. “I’ll quit it.”

“Don’t you fucking– Frankie.”

“Your words, baby.” He shrugs, eyes flitting down to your cunt, soaked under his touch.

“I didn’t mean it,” you moan. “Why are you such a fucking asshole?”

He looks back up. The corners of his mouth pull his smirk into a grin. Some devilish grin, thick with arrogance.

“I’m an asshole,” he echoes, elastic of your panties shifting up to his knuckles.

He watches your cunt as he does it. Runs two fingers between your folds, coating them in your arousal, dipping them deeper until they’re at your entrance.

Your head hits the bed heavily, your body writhing over the white sheets as he pushes closer and closer. His free hand comes up and pushes down on your tummy, holding you steady to the mattress, then –

“I’m the asshole.”

He inserts his fingers, curled, thick, stretching you out over his hand as he pushes in deep. A gasp passes through your lips, exchanging itself for a throaty moan when Frankie begins fucking you on his hand, lowering his lips to your clit again.

His wrist pumps in and out, tongue swirling over the swollen bud, palm pushing harder into your stomach to keep you from upsetting his rhythm with how badly you want to move around.

Your fingers lock a vice grip around his hair, your hips the only part of your body he’ll let you move. You establish a pace of your own, fucking up to meet his fingers, grinding yourself on his wet tongue.

“I’m close,” you pant, Nirvana logo distorted in ruffles at the base of your neck. “So fucking close, Frankie.”

And he can feel it. Feel you tightening around his hand, feel the rhythm of your hips start to miss beats, move clockwise instead of up and down. He can hear as your mouth stops rounding the words, fading into slurs and breaths and moans instead of coherent language.

“F-Frankie,” you cry out, and it’s like music to his ears. “’m there, I’m–”

“On my mouth, baby,” he mutters, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them with his lips again, tongue pushing inside you as you fall apart all over him.

Your back lifts from the bed, fists ball around his hair, pushing his face even harder against your cunt as you ride out your high. You’re moaning his name over and over, echoing off the walls of your little room, escaping out the door and swirling around the hallway.

If you could hear yourself, or cared enough to try, you’d feel fucking embarrassed at what you’re doing – coming apart under Frankie’s touch. It’s Frankie.

The same Frankie you started an argument with one Fourth of July over which was better: ketchup or mustard; the two of you spitting insults over the striped tablecloth, obscene hand gestures being thrown up over plates of burgers.

The same Frankie who’d found out it was you who drew on the wall, and from that day on used it as leverage anytime you set a foot out of line. Used it to shut you up, anytime you so much as thought about talking back, or ratting on the boys.

You’re supposed to hate him. Ask anyone – Santi, Mal, your parents. They’ll all say the same. Like cat and dog.

And yet, here you are. Begging him not to stop, keep his hands and his mouth on you; gasping for breath when he eventually lifts away from you and you collapse back into the bed.

You glance down from under heavy lids, watching as he kisses your thighs again, slowly bringing you back to the room. His chin’s glistening, covered in your cum, beard soaked in you.

You slowly sit up, holding yourself steady with two palms pushed into the mattress. Frankie readjusts your underwear and sits back on his heels, running a hand down his chin and wiping himself clean.

“That was…” you pant, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

He just nods, breathing heavy himself. “Yeah.”

“I gotta…I gotta let…Ange out,” you say, words swaddled by your breath.

Frankie nods again. “I should go.”

You stand at the same time, straightening up face to face. His right side is lit warmly by your bedside lamp, the brown of his eye reflecting a tiny yellow orb back at you; the left side is darker, flecks of hair lit in the pale light from the street, face dark and unreadable. Like he’s two different people, split down the middle now, a before and after.

You’re staring at one another, mapping every inch of the other’s face. Learning it, like it’s new. Like you’ve never really seen each other until right now.

And then he’s turning, picking his hat up from the floor in one swooping motion, and walking out of your bedroom. A deep sigh passes your lips as he goes, relief mixed with satisfaction. And then you follow.

Angie circles him when his boots thud down from the bottom step. He bends to give her more attention, waiting for you to softly pad down alongside him. The dog trots off toward the kitchen, and he turns to you.

He’s back to his unphased self, jaw circling around the gum that he’s still fucking chewing. “Two drinks you owe me, now, lil Santi.”

You cock your head. “Hm?”

“One for showing your ass at pool, ‘n another for that.”

“Get the fuck out of my house, Morales.”

He snorts, wandering off down the hall. You spin on your heel and follow the sound of Ange scraping the back door, throwing a glance over your shoulder.

Frankie meets your eye, and like a reflex, the pair of you toss the finger to one another. He laughs, stepping out onto the porch.

“Anytime you feel like losing again, you know where I am, baby.”

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musingsofahufflepuff · 3 months

Text

The Art of Learning Potions (according to Enzo Berkshire)

Lorenzo Berkshire x gn!reader; fluff

summary: potions is hard, but confessing your feelings is harder. especially when the person you’re in love with is your best friend.

a/n: dedicated to @finalgirllx for helping me figure out wtf to do with Enzo. also! this ended up being my submission for @thatdammchickennugget’s first hogmarch prompt. i’m sorry its short and kinda sucks (and its been like 22 days since i last posted a work)

You walk into the common room the night before a big Potions exam with a groan. Your group of friends is sitting around the fireplace, causally talking, enticing you to relax for the first time this week.

Spotting Enzo lounging on one of the couches, you make your way over before dropping your body weight against him. He makes a small oof at the unexpected person in his lap and chuckles softly once he realizes its you, wrapping his arms around you without hesitation.

Nobody acknowledges your arrival, so you take Enzo’s sweatshirt covered chest as an invitation to use it as a pillow.

He’s warm, as usual, and the soft Slytherin green material of his sweatshirt is comforting on your skin.

His hand comes up to caress your back and you can feel your heart beat everywhere.

As he keeps up with the current conversation (quidditch maybe?) his voice rumbles in his chest in a soothing way. You notice it compliments the thump of his heart beating softly in your ear.

Not that you cared. Obviously.

You had been friends, best friends even, since first year. And you definitely did not have a crush on him. Nope. Not even with his charming smile and ability to brighten the worst of days.

You quickly push the thought away.

The two of you stay like that for a while, then the conversation migrates to the exam tomorrow. With a small groan you turn your head to face the group, “I’ve been studying all week and I still don’t feel ready. I swear, Snape is out to get me.”

That makes a couple of the guys chuckle.

Enzo suddenly speaks from above your head, “I could probably use a bit more study time if you wanna look it over together before bed?”

You don’t catch Mattheo suggestively raising his eyebrows to tease Enzo. Instead you’re turning your head to look up at the boy you’re currently laying on, chin resting on his chest, “sure, I’d be down for that Enz.”

You get up from his lap and grab your bag, heading to his dorm to resume your studying.

Once you’re out of earshot, Mattheo leans over to Theo next to him, “more like studying anatomy, not potions.”

Enzo shoots the two a glare and hisses, “not like either of you would know anything about that.”

Matt and Theo burst into laughter at his reply as Enzo turns and follows you into his dorm room.

♡ ♡ ♡

Head starting to ache, you look at the clock. 1:04 am. Stretching your arms out, you look over at Enzo, whose eyes were already on you.

“What are you staring at, Berkshire?” there’s a teasing smile on your lips that makes Enzo laugh.

“Oh nothing,” he flashes a cheeky grin.

You lean over and shove him playfully, which makes him laugh. Gods you could listen to him laugh forever.

“So did my explanation help? Or are you still worried about tomorrow?” his grin is softer.

“I think I’m getting it now, thanks for helping me. You’re a surprisingly good tutor,” a smile works its way onto your face, a hint of blush rising in your cheeks.

“Oh, I’m a good tutor, huh? Is it that, or is it because you’re in love with me?” he’s smiling so easily, it almost makes you jealous.

You struggle to come up with a reply, “in love with you?” Your cheeks are definitely on fire now.

“Maybe I’m just hoping you are, but I think I’m right.” He shrugs nonchalantly.

“How can you be so causal about this?”

“How are you not?”

Your mouth opens and closes as you contemplate his words.

Enzo takes a step closer, taking your hands in his, “I have feelings for you, I’m almost certain you feel the same. So why complicate it? Give in, live a little.”

Without allowing yourself to overthink things again, you lean up and press your lips to his, a heat immediately washing over you.

He’s quick to return the kiss, as if he’d been waiting for it his entire life. His mouth moves softly against you, hands leaving their grasp on yours to hold your face. The hold is gentle, but unwavering. Instinctively your hands reach out to his sweatshirt to claw at the material, trying to bring him closer. He takes the hint and presses his body against yours, making that heat in your core spike.

Now that he’s closer, you slip your hands around his torso and deepen the kiss, wanting to drown in him.

You pull back to catch your breath, and his lips chase after yours. You let out a laugh, releasing the nerves you’d had pent up.

Those pretty brown eyes look down at you, his smirk back on his face, “so I was right?”

That earns him another shove, but he doesn’t let you move him this time, locked against you. There’s something vulnerable in his gaze that makes you want to be honest, “you were.”

“Good.”

His lips are back on yours in an instant, making you gasp at the suddenness of it. The kiss is brief, but leaves you craving more.

“We-“ you pause for a moment not wanting this to end, “we should get some sleep so we’re not dying during the exam.”

“Or, we could catch up on lost time and deal with the consequences later.”

And who can blame you for not being able to say no to that face?

♡ ♡ ♡

Bonus: So maybe staying up into the early hours of the morning wasn’t your smartest decision. But Enzo’s surprisingly good tutoring skills made up for it with a passing grade on the exam. You’re never gonna hear the end of that one.

#lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #hogmarch challenge #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #gn reader #slytherin boys #x reader #fluff

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overtail · 2 months

Text

Sick - Sokka x Reader 🔞

🪃💢

Summary: Sokka gets hurt after (Y/N) distracts him during a battle, setting off an argument. They make up in an... unusual way..

Reader Info: Female, Non bender, competitive

Warning: NSFW, Cursing, slight sexism, rough sex, underage, oral, fingering, both subs because they're teens for gods sake

A/N: This is my first time writing smut......

...

(Y/N) sat next to Katara as the light from the campfire reflected onto her face, creating a warm glow against her skin. She picked a piece off of her cod flounder, throwing it in her mouth and chewing quietly.

Aang and Katara were chatting, Toph Joining in every few seconds. They were talking about something aimless -- a conversation they wont remember in a week's time.

The air was uncomfortable, especially with Sokka's glaring. Every so often, (Y/N) would glance across the way, only to see Sokka giving her a nasty side eye.

She was getting tired of it -- she wasn't one to take disrespect like that. Sokka may think that he was some big, strong, scary man, but (Y/N) could make him cower with one yell.

"Right, (Y/N)?"

Katara elbowed her, bringing (Y/N) out of her brooding.

"What?"

She looked to the ground with embarrassment from the lack of listening. Katara isn't one to care, but there was still the shame.

"Oh, me and Aang were just-"

She began, looking down at my slumped over figure. Before she could finish, she was interrupted.

"She's probably thinking about how to sabotage me again."

(Y/N) looked up at Sokka as was barking out the rude comment, rolling his blue eyes. Katara crooked her neck to glance at him too, raising a brow at his remark. (Y/N)'s eyebrows furrowed, head tilting to the side teasingly.

"What did you just say to me Sokka?"

She knew damn well what he said. She just wanted to know if he had the balls to repeat himself. Sokka stood up walking, a bit closer to the log that (Y/N) and Katara were sat.

"I said.."

(Y/N) got up, making her way over to Sokka.

"You're probably thinking about how you're going to sabotage me again."

(Y/N) scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Sabotage you? Why can't you just accept that you suck at fighting?"

She barked back, leaning closer to him. She poked his chest, pushing him back a little bit. (Y/N) looked at the black eye he had gained from the 'sabotage'.

"Oh no, no, no. Do you find joy in my pain?"

Sokka avoided the question, turning his head to the side. (Y/N) shook her head in disbelief, looking at her feet and back up at Sokka again.

She pushed him back, emiling angrily.

"At this point, i really do. Your face looks better with that black eye."

(Y/N) teased, pointing at his purple bruise. Sokka just scoffed, pushing her back. He didn't care one bit that she was a girl -- that was clearly established when she said she was better than him.

"You're just jealous. Jealous you're a horrible person, sick girl who doesn't know how to get better."

(Y/N) was actually taken aback by this, like she was being stabbed in the back by his words. She heard a gasp from Katara, and a light giggle from Toph. (Y/N) grinned. She began to laugh, looking at Katara and to Aang. Sokka looked at her cautiously, watching as she laughed like a crazy person, tears running down her red cheeks.

"Jealous? Me? Jealous of you? I'd have to be the most pathetic person to want to be like you, Sokka."

(Y/N) walked past him, into the wall of trees that was behind him. She kept on laughing, shaking her head in disbelief at the words. She didn't quite know how to feel, but she just wanted to be left alone. To cry and scream in her faraway tent, to drown in her emotions.

But of course, Sokka had to always get the last word in.

She heard his footsteps getting louder and louder as her laughing faded into soft cries, her legs shaking as she tried to get to her tent as fast as possible. She needed to hide away, and she didn't want Sokka out of all people to see her broken heart.

"(Y/N), this isn't over!"

Somka said, grabbing onto her bicep. She ripped her arm from his grasp, avoiding talking to him. Tent. Get to your tent.

"(Y/N)! Come on-"

She tried to ignore his calling as much as she could, reaching out to the entrance of her tent. Before she could unclasp the buttons, she was whipped around, coming face to face -- well, face to chest -- with Sokka.

She looked up to his face, face full of rage. Somka had never seen her like this before, even while fighting the people she hated most.

"What could you possibly need to say that is so important you need to follow me to my fucking tent!"

(Y/N) yelled, her eyes shutting tightly. A few furious tears escaped her glossy eyes, falling onto the dirt in front of her feet.

"You know, you're a real piece of work (Y/N).."

"Guess what? You make me SICK Sokka!"

"Can you just shut up already?"

She scoffed, pushing Sokka once again. He stepped closer to her, reaching behind her neck and bringing her close.

"I'll give you another black eye-"

"Just shut up!"

Before she could react, before she could say the next rude comment, Sokka's warm lips crashed into her's. She didn't even have time to react, only instinctively leaning into his touch.

(Y/N) felt Sokka's hands fall from the tape of her neck to her lower back, bringing their flush bodies together.

She reached up to grab his shoulders, bringing him down so he was pushing against her even more. Before they both ran out of air, Sokka broke the connection, quickly leaning back and his face growing red.

"I'm so sorry (Y/N)-"

(Y/N) reached up, gracing her fingers across her lips in surprise. She wasn't even looking at him, just at her chest rising up and down slowly. She glanced up, watched as Sokka stammered out an apology.

"It's.. It's fine."

She was also red, smiling nervously at his gaze.

"I mean if it wasn't.. i wouldn't have kissed back."

(Y/N) looked to the ground bashfully, which was such a strange sight for Sokka. She was abrasive, aloof, and very strong hearted -- but this, this was different. And he didnt quite know how to feel about it.

Sokka stepped forward slowly, reaching up to place his palm on her face. He brought her chin up, looking to the ground on his left. God, he was nervous. What was he doing?

(Y/N) looked at him, smirking slightly. She was back, and Sokka felt a flutter in his stomach.

This time, the kiss was soft, slow, and tender. It was much more calm, which was good for both of them.

"Do you want to go inside my tent?"

(Y/N) said in a semi whisper, raising both of her brows. Sokka nodded, not quite knowing where this would go. (Y/N) let go of him, turning to unclasp the entrance of the tent behind them. She crouched down, stepping into the flaps and disappearing into the tent. Sokka stood there for a moment, trying to process what was really going on. This was something from his dreams; the nights he stayed up with his hands in his pants, whimpering her name as images flashed through his mind.

Sokka got on his knees, shuffling into the tent. As he glanced into the warmly lit place, he was surprised to see (Y/N) shrugging her shirt off, her shoulder exposed as well as her bra.

"Oh- sorry-"

(Y/N) laughed, turning around to grab his hand before he laughed.

"I'm doing this so you can see, stupid."

Sokka blushed, nodding his head cautiously. He sat on the felt that lined the floor of the tent. Rubbing his hands over the familiar feeling over the cloth, his attention was caught by a cold hand on his shoulder. He looked up, only to see (Y/N) nervously sitting on her knees in front of him in her undergarments.

"Oh.. oh spirits.."

He said, drinking in her body. His eyes glanced over every curve, every perfect imperfection, every freckles and every mole. He smiled, looking at her onxe again before giving her a deep kiss.

The two leaned back onto the make-ship bed, his hands caressing her sides. (Y/N) tugged at his shirt, causing him to break the kiss.

"You okay?"

Sokka didn't really know what he was doing. Hes only kissed a few girls before, like Suki or Yue, even girls back at home, but anything past that was untouched territory.

"You think you should take your clothes off? At least the over clothes."

(Y/N) suggested nervously, smiling softly. Somka let out a quick 'oh yeah', before leaning back and taking his shirt off. He kicked off his boots, taking his pants off. He shuffled his shirt off.

When he looked back down at (Y/N) he saw that she wasn't quite staring at his face, or even his chest. It was just a quick glare, but he knew what she was looking at.

"Oh, yeah, sorry about that.."

The painful warmth in his crotch only grew more at the sight of her looking at his erection. She just laughed slightly, rolling her eyes.

"It's a good thing, Sokka."

Sokka smiled, shuffling over to where (Y/N) laid. He dipped down, his lips being placed against hers in an instant. He gripped her waist, dragging her closer to his hips.

The kisses were messy, sloppy with spit and their tongues lapping the sides of each others mouths. Both Sokka and (Y/N) wanted more; no, needed more.

"Sokka, can we try something?"

(Y/N) whispered against his lips, and was only greeted with an eager nod. She grabbed one of his hands that was on her waist, bringing it over to her crotch. He placed it on her underwear, not quite knowing what to do.

She grabbed the side of her panties, moving it to the side to expose her. Sokka's eyes widened at the sight, it being the opposite of what he expected. He looked over the folds, the bud at the top, and of course, the inviting entrance. She swallowed hard, trying to focus on the task at hand.

"Okay so.."

(Y/N) grabbed his hand, making a fist with his fingers. She grabbed his ring finger, showing it to him.

"You want to put this in there."

She gestures to her hole, which was wet with her slick.

"O-okay."

Sokka stuttered out. (Y/N) let go of his hand, and he took a deep breath. The tip of his finger grazed the entrance, before quickly delving into her. He eyes widened, thighs almost closing at the intrusion.

"So, you're gonna want to curl-"

Before she could finish her sentence, Sokka curled his finger, his long digit reaching the right spot. (Y/N) let out an unexpected moan, slapping her hand over her face. Sokka grew harder at the sight, and then did it again. She was more quiet this time, but the sound still made him feel amazing. After a few minutes, she was a squealing mess. Without asking, Sokka added his middle finger, causing (Y/N) to moan aggressively.

The sound was amazing, like something you could listen to over and over again and never get tired of it. He repeated the motions, eliciting groans from her sweet mouth.

(Y/N) began to grow aware of Sokka's painful erection, and no matter how good this felt, she knew this would feel better. She grabbed his wrist, which woke him up from his trance.

"Do you want to.."

She said, looking at his member. Sokka blushed, nodding quickly. He removed his fingers from her, glancing up before grabbing the band of his boxers. He slipped them off, and felt the relief of the cold air on him.

(Y/N) was staring. Staring hard. Was he too small? Did he not look right? Was there something wrong?

"Holy.."

Sokka had a good 6 inches on him, which was great for a teenager. (Y/N) was pulsing at the sight of him, her slick dripping down her ass.

"Okay, so.."

(Y/N) sat up, moving so she was on her hands and knees and her ass was facing Sokka.

"I think this is how you do it."

Sokka nodded. This was the most quiet shes ever heard him be, a whole new side of the boy.

He shuffled forward, grabbing his dick with his hand and lining himself up with her.

"Now, don't put it in my- augh!'

Her sentence was interrupted with a moan as he shoved himself in aggressively. He whimpered audibly, not used to the new feeling.

"Oh my spirits.."

He groaned, pulling himself out before sliding back in. (Y/N) moaned again, gripping the felts beneath her hands. Sokka repeated the motion, speeding up every time. Soon, you could hear the sound of skin slapping against skin, (Y/N) letting out small 'ah, ah, ah's. Sokka was letting a stream of curses fall from his lips, a familiar knot in his stomach forming.

"(Y/N).."

He moaned, grabbing onto her soft waist.

"I need to tell you- AUGH- something.."

(Y/N) tightened around Sokka, which only made his growing orgasm arrive sooner.

"You can be rude to me- ah- later!"

She said in a strained voice. Everything felt so otherworldly, like they were the only teeo people in the universe.

"Not that."

He said with a grunt, his hands tracing over her ass as he grinded harder and harder.

"Im-"

He began but realized he was about to cum. He jolted forward, trying to hold it back. That single movement pushed (Y/N) over the edge, shaking and moaning with her orgasm.

"I'm in love with-"

As the words slipped out, so did his arrival. She grabbed her waist tight, enough to bruise, and pushed into her.

"-youaughhh.."

His words were mixed with moans, his white liquid coating the inside of her. He pulled himself out, and saw his cum dripping from her pussy. He asshole was pulsating, her legs quivering, and her waist had tiny fingerprints from his grasp.

(Y/N) flopped down onto her bed, not caring about cleaning up. On the other hand, Sokka was trying to grab a hand towel as fast as he could. He reached over, softly wiping the white liquid from her and her bed. She sighed, rolling over onto her back. Sokka tossed the towel to the side, looking at her panting body from above.

"I'm not a virgin anymore."

He spat out with a toothy grin, making her roll her eyes.

"We're on the same page here."

...

EXTRA!!

Katara rubbed her eyes, stepping out of her tent and into the bright morning light. She had gotten absolutely no sleep last night. Unlike Toph and Aang who could sleep through a tornado, she was kept up all night by (Y/N) and Sokka's 'make up sex'.

She glanced over to the campfire, which occupied Sokka roasted a frog. She stomped over, punching him right in the jaw so he fell over on his side.

"What was that for?"

He asked, looking at Katara like she was insane.

"For keeping me up all night! You deserve two black eyes you little-"

Sokka scrambled up, running into the forest as Katara ran after him.

#avatar the last airbender #fandom #fanfic #fluff #katara #sokka #sokka x reader #smut #make up sex #virginity loss

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goldengalore · 1 year

Text

Neglected

A househusband!Harry fic.

Summary: Harry has been feeling neglected and unappreciated by Y/N, and she doesn’t realize it.

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: angst, smut (sub!harry, soft dom!reader)

A/N: I woke up at 4am one morning with the urge to write this. Also listened to Tolerate It by Taylor Swift for more inspo!

***

In all the years that Harry has been married to Y/N, he has never felt neglected by her. Sure, there have been instances where her schedule became too hectic for them to spend much time together, but even then, her love and appreciation for him could be felt through her actions.

Lately though, that hasn’t been the case.

Work has been stressing her out, he can discern that much. And while she has never been one to let work stress affect her personal relationships, this past week has brought out a different side to her. A side that makes him feel small and invisible.

When she comes home, it’s like she wants nothing to do with him. She heads straight upstairs, telling him she’ll be down for dinner later. During dinner, she’ll ask their daughter, Savannah, about her day but won’t ask him. After dinner, she’ll go back upstairs without acknowledging whether the food was good or not, even when he cooks her favourite dishes. He’ll wash up in the kitchen and go up to their bedroom to find her already asleep on her side of the bed—or pretending to be asleep, it seems at times. If he tries to cuddle up to her, she’ll shrug him off and shift further towards the edge of the bed with her back to him.

He’s beginning to wonder if he unwittingly did something to upset her. Or maybe it’s all in his head. Maybe he should just suck it up. Surely, this won’t last forever and she’ll be back to her normal self soon enough…

It’s Friday now. He hopes that with the weekend on the horizon, Y/N will be in a much better mood when she gets home.

“Hi, lovie,” he greets her when she walks in through the door. “How was your day?”

She releases a heavy sigh as she slips off her heels. “Shitty, but at least it’s over, right?”

“Sorry to hear that.” He attempts to give her a hug, but it doesn’t last longer than a second before she pulls away with a tight smile.

She heads to the kitchen, dropping her bag and keys by the stairs along the way. He follows her like a lost puppy. Grabbing herself a glass of water, she collapses onto one of the dining chairs and chugs it down.

At least she didn’t go straight upstairs today, he thinks to himself, grasping for a silver lining.

She rolls her neck from side to side and rubs the back of her shoulder, wincing a bit. Harry moves to stand behind her. Shifting her hair over to one side, he starts massaging her neck and shoulders. He holds his breath, expecting her to brush him off, but instead, she reclines in her seat while he carefully presses his thumbs into the nape of her neck.

“Work has been such a pain lately,” she admits.

“I know. Could tell you’ve been stressed out.”

“It’s this new boss. She’s impossible to work with. She puts unreasonable deadlines on everything, expecting us to finish these huge, complicated tasks within days. Then, when people like me try to speak up about it, she’ll publicly shame us in front of the whole office and pile on even more work so that— Ow! Okay, H, you’re pressing too hard.” She reaches behind her to push his hands away.

“Oops. Sorry, love.” Fuck. She was finally opening up to him about why she’s been acting so cold, finally giving him more than just one-word responses or vague explanations, and he ruined it.

“It’s fine. I’m going to go take a shower.” She stands up.

“Wait,” he says, grabbing her hand.

She turns to him with a look of mild annoyance.

“Um, wh—why don’t I run you a hot bath?”

“Sure. Not too hot though, okay? I’d like to not burn my skin off.”

He chuckles at the comment, pretending that it didn’t sting a little. “Yeah, of course.”

He runs the bath and checks the temperature of the water multiple times while Y/N undresses in their bedroom. He’s about to check for a fourth time when she enters the bathroom in her white robe, which she hangs up on the wall hook. She settles into the tub and closes her eyes. Meanwhile, Harry watches from the doorway, wishing he could get in there with her and be close to her.

“Do you want me to stay?” he offers tentatively. “We can talk more about the stuff you’ve been dealing with at work.”

“Ugh, no, I don’t even want to think about work.”

“Oh. Well, we can chat about something else to get your mind off—”

“I’m not really in the mood to talk.” She opens her eyes briefly to look at him. “I’ll be down for dinner later, okay?”

Translation: Don’t bother me until dinner.

With a hollowness in his chest, he shuts the bathroom door and returns downstairs to the kitchen.

***

“Daaaaad?” Savannah calls to her father from the dining table, where she has decided to do her homework tonight.

“Yeeeees?”

“Can you help me with my homework?”

“Be right there.” He turns down the heat on the stove before walking over to his daughter, leaning over her to take a look at what she’s working on. Math. His worst enemy.

“I don’t understand this question,” she says, pointing to a lengthy word problem on the page with several multiple choice options.

He reads and rereads it a few times before attempting to solve it in his head. It seems easy enough… Until he realizes that the answer he came up with isn’t even one of the options. He asks Savannah how her teacher taught her to approach questions like this, and her explanation only confuses him even more. Math was tough when he was in school, but the way they teach it nowadays boggles his mind.

“I’ll go see if your mum can help.”

He heads upstairs to check if Y/N is done with her bath and finds her sitting at the foot of their bed in her robe, brushing her hair. The sun is setting outside. Its warm, amber glow spills through the curtains and falls across one side of Y/N’s face, casting a shadow on the other. She looks ethereal in this light, like a goddess, and he feels unworthy of her presence.

“Babe? Savannah needs help with her maths homework,” he tells her.

“Can’t you handle it?”

“I mean, I’m trying, but we both know how useless I am at maths,” he answers with a smirk, but she doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Harry, it’s grade school math, not rocket science.”

His face drops. “Well, yeah, but I— Never mind. I’ll figure it out.” He turns to leave but pauses in the doorway, turning back around to face her. “Y/N, are you… Are you upset with me? Have I done something wrong?”

He instantly regrets asking. Y/N closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“No, H, I just need some time alone,” she states slowly. “Like, is that too much to ask? I can’t even have a second alone without you getting clingy and thinking I’m mad at you? It’s exhausting.”

His heart cracks for what feels like the millionth time that night. Clingy. His wife thinks he’s clingy. It’s not the first time he has been called that word. But it is the first time he has been called that word by her. And God, does it hurt like a dagger slicing through his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles before leaving.

He tries his best to help Savannah with the question, ultimately resorting to Google where he finds the solution posted on some forum a few years ago.

“Daddy, are you okay?” asks Savannah once her homework has been sorted.

He raises a brow at the odd, adult-like concern in his daughter’s voice. “Yes. Why?”

“You look sad.”

He forces a smile. “I’m not sad. There’s nothing wrong with being sad, of course. But I’m fine.”

She squints her big eyes at him suspiciously, drawing a genuine laugh out of him.

Kissing the top of her head, he says, “I’m going to finish making dinner, but let me know if you need anything else.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

That little token of appreciation means so much to him, he gives her another kiss on the head.

“You’re very welcome.”

***

Harry feels numb at dinner. His appetite is nonexistent. The food that he himself cooked with love and care tastes bland and flavourless to him. He has long zoned out on the conversation between Y/N and Savannah, which is completely unlike him, as someone who prides himself on being a good listener.

“H, you okay? You’ve barely touched your food,” comments Y/N. It shocks him that she even noticed.

“Daddy’s sad,” Savannah blurts out.

Y/N frowns, studying him from across the table. “Sad about what?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” He stares down at his plate and changes the subject. “Does anyone else feel like the pasta sauce is missing something? I followed the recipe to a tee and still messed it up somehow.” He shakes his head, frustrated with his inability to get anything right today.

“No, it’s perfect,” says Y/N. “As always.”

She’s praising him. So why does he feel like crying?

“Where are you going?” she asks as he pushes his chair back and rises to his feet.

“I have a headache. Going to lie down for a bit. Just leave the dishes in the sink. I’ll take care of it later.” He places his unfinished plate on the kitchen counter and leaves.

Tears are flooding his eyes before he has even reached the top of the stairs. By the time he gets to the bedroom, they’re spilling onto his cheeks. He doesn’t bother wiping them away. Instead, he just climbs under the covers on his side of the bed and lets his pillow soak them up.

It’s hard to tell how much time has passed before he hears Savannah’s voice down the hall, telling her mother goodnight, and then moments later, the light creak of the bedroom door opening, followed by Y/N’s footsteps approaching the bed. The mattress dips behind him.

“H?” she says softly.

“Hmm?”

“You still awake?”

He clears his throat and tries to keep a steady voice as he replies, “Yeah. You need anything?”

“No, just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine. Just a headache.”

“Do you need anything from me? Painkillers? A cup of tea?”

How about kisses? Or cuddles? Or any kind of attention that doesn’t involve you glaring at me like I’m a waste of space? he answers in his head, but out loud he says, “I’m fine. Thank you, love.”

“You know, you keep saying you’re fine and I don’t know if I believe you.”

He doesn’t respond.

She places a hand on his arm over the covers. “Look at me.”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he emphasizes stubbornly.

“Can you please look at me?”

He sighs. A part of him is tempted to snap at her and tell her to leave him alone, to hurt her the way she hurt him, but he doesn’t have it in him to do that. In fact, the last thing he wants right now is to be left alone. What he really wants is to be held by her, to be told that he is loved and appreciated and wanted.

When she gently tugs on his arm to make him turn around, he doesn’t resist. Her eyes scan his face, taking in the tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“Oh, honey.” She brings a hand to his cheek. He’s been so deprived of her touch that he leans into it immediately. “Did I do this?” she asks with guilt-ridden eyes which suggest she already knows the answer to that.

“I feel like I can’t do anything right by you lately,” he says. “I just want to spend some time with you when you get home, but you never talk to me and you shoo me away any time I try to come near you. I don’t know what I did, but lately, I feel more like an annoying pest that you have to tolerate than your husband. And maybe that makes me clingy or whatever—”

“That does not make you clingy,” she interjects, shaking her head adamantly. “I’m sorry I called you that, and I’m sorry I made you feel this way. I’ve just been under so much pressure at work. That’s no excuse for how I’ve been treating you, but I need you to know that it has nothing to do with you, okay? You haven’t done a single thing wrong.”

He sniffles. “Really?”

“Yes, baby. The only reason I’ve been pushing you away is because I come home with all this pent-up frustration and I don’t want to take it out on you by accident… But it looks like I’ve been doing that anyway.” She wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and kisses him tenderly. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She gets under the covers with him and guides his head to her chest, tangling her fingers into his hair. He nuzzles his face close to her breasts. She apologizes again and reassures him that he’s the best husband she could have ever asked for, that she still looks forward to coming home to him at the end of each day, that she loves him more than words can ever explain.

Her delicate touches mixed with her comforting voice telling him everything he needed to hear soothes his aching heart. They cuddle in silence for a while, their legs intertwined with each other. Y/N shifts around a bit while keeping him close to her. When her thigh brushes up against his crotch, she freezes.

“Are you hard right now?”

“Fuck, um… yeah?” he mumbles into her chest nervously, his face growing hot.

She giggles. “Well, let’s take care of it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, you deserve it.”

She sits up on the bed beside him, while he lays on his back, gazing up at her, melting when she gives him a warm smile. Her hand disappears under the covers, making its slow descent into the waistband of his shorts. He gasps when she gropes him through his briefs.

“I don’t think I’ll last very long,” he admits.

“That’s okay. Been a while since we’ve done this, huh?”

He nods, gulping as her fingers trace his bulge. Although he sometimes touches himself when he’s home alone during the day or in the shower, it’s never the same as when she does it. The orgasms lack the intensity he craves.

“My poor baby,” she coos, using her other hand to scratch the top of his head. “I haven’t been taking proper care of you. We’re going to fix that this weekend.”

She suddenly removes her hand from his shorts and takes off her shirt, revealing her braless torso. The sight of her gorgeous, round breasts makes his mouth water before she even invites him to suck on them. Moving his head into her lap, he wraps his lips around one nipple and swirls his tongue around the taut flesh.

Her hand ventures back into his shorts, this time slipping into his underwear. Instead of wrapping her whole hand around him, she uses only two fingers and her thumb, running them along his length in slow, gentle strokes that make his body shudder with pleasure.

“I’m so lucky to have you, you know that? Nothing you do for me goes unnoticed, I promise you,” she says.

The reassurance brings tears to his eyes again but happy ones this time. She wraps the rest of her hand around his cock, picking up the pace and pressure of her strokes. He thrusts his hips into her hand desperately as his orgasm builds. She tells him he can come whenever he’s ready, but he tries to delay it for as long as possible until he can’t any longer. Then he lets himself go, his moans and grunts muffled by her breast.

“There you go. Good boy.” She coaxes the last few drops of come out of him.

He rests his head in her lap afterwards, dazed and breathless, hoping that she’ll let him lay there a little while longer. Luckily, that’s exactly what she does, only moving to rest her back against the headboard to make herself comfortable while keeping his head in her lap, her fingers in his hair. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

***

Thank you for reading! For more househusband!Harry and other fics, check out my MASTERLIST

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toji-girl · 3 months

Text

needy | s. gojo

synopsis: What was only supposed to happen during the weekends as a way to release steam quickly turned into something else.

wc: 2.4k

tags: 18+ ONLY content + explicit smut: minors and empty blogs DNI + not beta read + repost from my old blog + porn with feelings + modern au (no curses) + repost + fwb + fingering + praising + soft! Gojo but still is a bit condescending + squirting + mutual masturbation + unprotected sex + creampie + facial + cum eating + blow job + half dressed sex + any missing tag lmk + he sends you nudes and videos + light sexting + reblogs and comments are really appreciated!

The weekends were something you always looked forward to, it was when you didn't have to think about anything but the man between your legs who made sure he was the only thing you thought of.

His white hair always tickled your thigh which in turn made you giggle, another thing he likes to pull from you, but mostly Satoru was greedy with making you cum and chant his name over and over.

You sighed and mindlessly tapped the keys on your keyboard, your mind drifting back to last weekend. Satoru had you on your hands and knees on his bed, ass arched high in the air for him.

He loved to jerk off behind you using the spit from the earlier blow job you gave it, the wet pap sound only made you ache that much more for him and he loved to tease. "Toru! Please!" You all but whined.

"Hello? You know your shift ended like ten minutes ago?" Your co-worker and best friend Mai snapped her fingers in front of your face pulling you from your lewd thoughts, feeling the ache between your legs at what was going to happen in about an hour.

You blinked several times and looked at her with a sheepish smile as you shut your desktop off before scooping up your things. "Hi, and I guess not. Got busy thinking. Thank you." You told her with a nod.

She hummed and clicked her tongue. "Head full of dick?" Mai teased only because she knew of the arrangement you had with Satoru. You rolled your eyes and walked to your car with her in tow.

"It's more like my mouth that's full of it." You replied earning an elbow in the ribs along with her fake gagging as she dumped her own things in the backseat of her car before shutting the door to look at you.

You did the same and settled in the driver's seat cranking the engine to look at the time knowing Satoru should be calling you soon. "You're nasty, you know that? Go get laid and I'll see you Monday."

After the both of you exchanged goodbyes, Mai drove off and you stayed in your parking spot shooting a text you Satoru.

you: hey, what's going on? you haven't called.

You started down at the screen feeling like some kind of fiend, sure there were plenty of other men you could sleep with, but none of them could come close to Satoru and the way he made you feel.

It started a year ago when you met on a dating site, and agreed to be friends with benefits, only during the weekend though, a time to release the stress of the week that built up. After talking a bit and hanging out the first time you hooked up you were a goner.

Five minutes passed and nothing, no call or text which was highly unusual for him. You sighed again and put your phone up before taking off towards your house wondering for a moment if you should go to Satoru's instead.

But that would make you look desperate, and maybe you were a little. This week was hell, between work and daily life it was weighing on you. The special ringtone you picked for him played out in the cabin.

You parked in your reserved spot and yanked your phone from the small cubby hitting the green button. "Hello?" You answered smoothly as you climbed out of your car before grabbing your things.

With the phone shoved between your ear and shoulder you listened to Satoru explain his situation. "I'll be there in twenty minutes, get ready sweetheart because this week sucked ass." He hummed.

Although you couldn't see him, you knew he was smirking, and judging by the muffle of his words he had something in his mouth, your pussy ached thinking of his tongue fucking you.

"I know how that feels, I'll be waiting for you with the door unlocked." You told him before hanging up to open your front door, once inside you kicked it shut and dumped everything on the side table.

He only gave you twenty minutes to get ready, which admittedly wasn't a lot of time but still, you shucked your clothes off where you stood and then made your way to your bedroom to change.

With ten minutes to spare you checked over everything as your nerves began to fray like a rope, little by little until there wasn't anything left you sat on the edge of your bed rubbing your knees.

You could hear your front door swing open and then click shut, and footsteps shuffled over the carpet coming closer to your bedroom, suddenly the idea of wearing his favorite lingerie made you hot.

Satoru stopped in the doorway seeing you sitting, your eyes met his in a heated gaze. "Well, look at you all dressed up for me. How cute." He cooed coming closer to shut the gap between you two.

You scrambled off the bed to tug on his hands when he reached out to grab you, his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you closer to his body which only made you melt. His lips found yours quickly.

His tongue parted the seam of your lips while large hands trailed down to grab a handful of your ass, Satoru tasted you deeply licking the inside of your mouth and rutting against you.

"Satoru, I missed you so much." You whined sitting back on the bed, your hands coming up to unbuckle his belt letting it hang as you made quick work of his pants and boxers tugging them down until his cock sprang free.

It was as pretty as him, a pink flushed head that dripped with precum, veins that ran on each side. All around it was perfect and it never failed to make your mouth water with the need to suck it.

He watched with lazy lids as he rested one hand behind your head letting you go at your own pace. With one hand wrapped around the base of his cock you parted your lips and licked the tip slowly.

You loved to watch him fall apart when doing this, so you made sure to stare at him as you inched his dick more into your mouth until your nose was flush against the white hair.

Your eyes watered but it didn't matter not when he was moaning your name, the hand that was wrapped around the base now drifted down to his sack cupping it in your hand as you bobbed your head slowly.

The sounds were loud, your wet slurping echoed in the room as you gagged around him and rubbed your thighs together in an attempt to help alleviate the throbbing of your clit. "Want me to touch you?" He asked watching you spread your legs quickly.

Using his long arms to his advantage Satoru reached down and pressed the tip of his middle finger against your clit. "Oh, you're so wet just from sucking my cock? Ha, that really is adorable." He groaned when you picked up the pace.

Tears streamed down your face feeling the fat mushroom tip hit the back of your throat all the while he moved your panties to the side to dip two fingers inside your weeping pussy. You moaned around his cock wanting to fuck yourself on his fingers more than anything.

You pulled away to jerk him off using your spit that bridged from your lips to the head of his cock. "Satoru! Feels so good!" You moaned spreading your legs wider now setting your feet on the edge.

Satoru fed his cock back in your mouth so close to his orgasm, the feeling built and built until it tipped over, just as quick as he pushed in he pulled out and jerked himself off covering your face in cum.

"You look so good like that." He cooed scooping up the mess he made to feed it to you and then he licked the remnants off with a smirk.

He wasted no time and dropped to his knees keeping your panties hooked to the side making it easier for him to attach his mouth to your needy clit, slowly he flicked and massaged it while bullying your g-spot over and over hearing you whine.

"Had such a tough week and you just need to be fucked dumb, isn't that right?" He asked in between kissing your clit now. You nodded your head dumbly getting so close to your own release.

Your jaw went slack as he fingered you dumb, the wet squelching coming from between your legs sounded like something that was only heard in a porno, and the way you moaned for him too.

You threaded your fingers through his hair tugging him closer to fuck his mouth and fingers feeling your orgasm break the surface, your pussy fluttered and spasmed around him leaving a creamy ring.

Satoru kissed your thighs bringing you down from your high before letting you crawl up the bed backward, your slick pussy on display for him, his cock twitched as you spread your lips open for him.

He joined you on the bed and kneeled between your legs again, his hands rested on your knees as he pushed them back, his finger hooked in your panties pulling them to the side again and teased your clit with his cock.

Slowly he pushed the tip in with a deep groan, his head hung as he towered above you pushing more of himself inside you. "Oh fuck! You feel - " You cut off midsentence when he bottomed out.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" He teased leaning his head down to lap at the cum that still resided on your face, his tongue felt just as hot as your face did.

You stayed silent and gripped the sheets. Neither of you bothered to really get undressed, the need to fuck each other was too much that taking your clothes off didn't come across your mind.

But it only added to the heat of the moment, that way his cock throbbed against your walls. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him down all the way, your mouth found his in a messy kiss.

Satoru started with a slow pace making love to you, then his hips slammed against you, wet skin slapping against each other, the sound resonating in the room along with the heavy smell of sex.

Your poor neighbors could hear the bed squeak along with the headboard that thumped against the wall with his harsh strokes, the both of you moaning and panting against each other's mouths.

It was a mess between your legs as he continued to fuck you with deep thrusts that had your toes curling and back arching off the mattress. "You feel so good wrapped around my cock like this sweet girl, all mine to fuck, mhm?" He hummed in your ear.

You nodded again and tugged on his shirt bunching it up, your eyes rolled to the back of your head when his tip probed that sweet spot feeling his second climax bubble up threatening to explode.

Satoru pulled out hearing you whine at the loss of him, your eyes clouded with lust and confusion. He pushed back his hair with small huffs and squished your cheeks together. "Hands and knees."

Doing as you were told you scrambled away from him and got into position, one of your favorites and his as well. He loved to see your ass jiggle each time he fucked you like this, deep and hard.

He wasted no time and slid himself back inside your warm and soft cunt to the hilt again, his slender fingers held your hips in place as he set one foot flat on the bed while the other leg stayed bent.

"If only you could see how well you took my dick, maybe I should record it so you can see, would you like that?" He asked stroking your back with sweet feather light touches that made you dizzy.

You nodded wildly throwing your head back trying to fuck yourself back on him, the only thing you could think about was how deep he was inside you. "Yes! Oh fuck! Satoru! Baby!" You babbled.

With the way your pussy fluttered around him Satoru's orgasm rose up again, but he wanted you to cum again before him, so his hand skated down to where you two were connected to rub your clit.

He bent over pressing his chest against your back to litter your neck and shoulder in sloppy opened mouthed kisses feeling your pussy pull him in further then suddenly you were drenched making a mess.

"Did you just squirt?" He panted against your pulse point as he listened to the wet sounds that only grew louder as he fucked you through your orgasm feeling the tingle in his spine.

Satoru pulled away to grab your hips keeping you still as he stroked himself deeper using your pussy as his own cocksleeve to chase his own orgasm that ended with him filling you to the brim.

Hot and thick cum oozed around his dick that he kept you plugged with, and the both of you panted hard. "That was so needed." You muttered feeling him kiss your back before pulling out to clean up.

Once you were cleaned up, you offered him a water bottle and a peck on the lips before sending him on his way. There was no way you'd be able to let him stay without catching feelings and something told you that Satoru would suffer the same fate.

Throughout the week your phone blew up with text messages from Satoru, some were asking how everything was going, and others were pictures of him standing naked in front of his mirror.

The rest were videos of him jerking off in bed, clearly you could hear him panting and moaning your name saying how bad he needed to be inside you which only made you flustered and needy for him.

"I thought it was only a weekend thing?" You asked once you called him and he picked up on the first ring with a smile hoping you were going to invite him over.

"It can be more than that if you wanted sweetheart, I think a year of only fucking on the weekends is getting to me." He replied standing in his kitchen to get a glass of water.

You sighed and sunk into your living room chair still fully dressed in your work clothes, shoes and all. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I can only take so much of tugging on my cock during the week, don't you want to be eaten out on a Tuesday instead of having a set schedule?" He asked from the other line waiting for an answer from you with a smirk knowing he caught you.

#Satoru smut #Satoru Gojo smut #Gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo smut #gojo x you smut #Satoru x you smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader

239 notes · View notes

thatgirlstrawberry · 1 year

Note

Older Spencer and choking kink please im

begging you🙏

Stress Relief

In which… well… you know 😉

Warnings: smut!!! Choking kink, penetrative sex, oral (m rec), semi-public, slight degradation (slut is used twice), slight praise, hand kink??, age gap, dom!spencer, bratty!sub!reader, kinda like a no strings attached relationship??, He’s kinda mean in this, weed is mentioned… lmk if I missed anything!!

Professor!Spencer Reid x student!fem!reader

College was hard.

Sometimes all she needed was a helping hand to relieve her stress. She couldn’t find anyone who could actually satisfy her needs.

That was until she sat in professor Reid’s class. She saw him pacing around the stage, hands fidgeting with each other. She didn’t see a ring. She smiled and kissed her teeth.

They made eye contact every few minutes. It was safe to say that Professor Reid was distracted by her, entranced almost.

He asked her to stay after class, she did. He came on strong. She liked it. Then, she sucked his dick underneath his desk.

Long story short, she belonged to Professor Reid now. He made sure that she knew that. Every single time they had their little after class meet ups, he made sure that she knew she was his and no one else’s.

It was a peaceful Wednesday afternoon, Y/N had no plans of staying after class, she had too much work to get finished.

She listened to his lecture, took notes. He looked at her, she looked at him, the same thing as always.

He dismissed class and she almost got out but he called to her. He usually didn’t have to, she knew to come straight to him.

“Y/N,” She heard her name and sighed a bit. She turned around and made her way towards him.

"Good afternoon, Professor." She smiled, looking up at his tall figure.

He smiled at her. "Where were you going just now?" He asked, eyebrows furrowing.

She swallowed nervously and bit her lip, knowing it would drive him crazy on the inside. "I was going back to my dorm. I h-have a lot of stressful work so..."

Professor Reid tilted his head to the side and stuck his hands in his pockets, nodding a bit. "Have you been stressed for a while, Y/N?" He moved closer to her.

Her breath hitched and she blinked. "F-for a couple of weeks, yeah." She nodded, tongue grazing her lips.

He nodded, feigning sympathy. “Well, you know what we talked about, right?” He asked. “When you have too much to do and you just want… a break.” He moved closer, one hand coming out of his pocket to grab her hip harshly.

She bit her lip leaning into him. “Y-yeah.”

“Do you want a break, Y/N?” He asked, glancing at her parted lip. She started to not but he reached forward and grabbed her chin, thumb on her bottom lip. “Words.”

“Y-yes, please.”

His other hand came out of his pocket and he pulled her into him all the way, chest to chest. “All the little college boys would love to have a girl like you in their bed.” He said, tapping her lips.

She looked up at him, attitude in her eyes. “Yet, I’ve never been in yours.” She shrugged, looking to the side. “I could easily spend the night in someone else’s.” She teased.

He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, but you won’t.” He whispered almost sounding angry.

She was on fire in the places his hands were. One on her hip and one on the side of her face, moving down dangerously. “Yeah, why’s that?”

Professor Reid just smirked and raised his brows. “Are you gonna get on your knees or do I have to make you?” His words made her weak, wet. She loved it when he talked to her this way.

She smirked and bit her lip, her knees bending. She got down on them, the hard wood stinging at first and then becoming familiar. She looked up at his face and then eyed the tent that poked up through his pants.

“You’re such a brat.” He shook his head. He reached for his belt but she stopped him and did it herself.

She smiled innocently, pulling his belt through the loops. “Oh, but Professor, last week you said I was an Angel.” She looked up at him through her lashes.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah, you were doing something else when I said that,” he gestured to her on her knees. “So do it and you just might be my angel again.”

She kissed her teeth and pulled his slacks down with his boxers, mouth watering at the sight of him. Yes, she had seen it before but it surprised her every single time.

Opening her mouth, she leaned forward and took the base of his length in her hand. She closed her eyes and licked the tip, shuffling impossibly closer to him.

His hand placed itself on the back of her head but gently; not forcing anything. She opened her eyes and made eye contact, winking at him before opening her mouth wider, taking what she could fit into her mouth. The rest she just pumped with her hand.

She watched his head fall back in pleasure, a low groan leaving his mouth. She hollowed her cheeks, tongue swirling his length. His hand fisted her hair, pulling slightly. “Fuck…”

Y/N moaned around his dick, her pace speeding up. “You look so good like that.” He groaned. “Something to keep you from talking— shit— yeah, I see you talking during my fucking class—“ He stopped speaking, tightening his fist around her hair. “Next time you wanna talk when I’m talking, think about this moment, right here.” He reached down, stopping her head from moving, hand dangerously close to the top of her throat. She nodded, almost gagging when she felt his cock slide deeper down her tongue.

He began to thrust inside her mouth. She looked up at him, tears of fucking joy pricking the corners of her eyes. Never had he ever met a woman who took pleasure in pleasuring him. “Your mouth was made for me.” He grunted. “This filthy little mouth is m-mine— fuck— Understand?” He asked, looking down at her.

She nodded almost immediately, opening her mouth and flattening her tongue, sticking it out as his dick slid back and forth against it. “You’re so sexy,”

Not even a minute later, he was ready to finish. Her mouth was truly magical. “Are you gonna let me fill this pretty mouth?” She nodded again, closing her mouth around him again, gripping his thighs, nails digging in subconsciously.

“Fuck— you do so good…” He said, biting his lip. He paused his movements, breathing heavily, chest heaving.

He came, hot liquid filling her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut tasting the salty liquid on her tongue. She opened her eyes when he was done and swallowed so he could see her. His hand was removed from the back of her head, he grabbed her chin, rubbing the corner of her mouth to get rid of a small spot of his come that spilled from her mouth.

“Stand up.” He ordered, his hand remained on the side of her face. She got off of her knees, eyes never leaving his. “Take off that pretty little skirt and go sit on my desk.”

Her cheeks burned. She couldn’t believe she was letting a man old enough to be her dad fuck her. She walked away from him, towards the door to his office and walked in.

She pulled off her skirt and laid it neatly on the top of his organized desk. She bit her lip and slid onto the cool surface, jolting a bit at the nice feeling of the smooth wood against her ass. Her underwear was beyond wet, she wondered if he still wanted her to wear them.

He walked in a few seconds later, eyes amused. A smirk played at his lips, his hair was wild. She liked it. “Last time we did this, you couldn’t take it.” He shook his head.

It was true. Last time, she was too overstimulated to let him continue.

“I had to get myself off with just your tiny little lace panties,” He leaned forward, arms on either side of her, trapping her almost. “Which I still have by the way.” He reached into the tiny drawer on the side of his desk and there they were. Pink lace underwear sat there all folded up and neat.

“I can take it this time, Professor.” She nodded, looking down at his lips. He raised his brows. “I swear I can.”

He nodded, tongue sweeping out to lick his lips. His hand trailed up her arms, nails scraping against her hot skin gently. “We’ll see.” He shrugged.

It took her by surprise when the hand that was tracing her collar bones reached down between her legs and literally tore her underwear off of her. She gasped and bit her lip, eyes glancing from the pile of fabric on the floor next to his foot to the smirk on his lips.

Her core quivered with anticipation. “Please… I’m ready professor.” She nodded.

He tilted his head. “You know it drives me crazy when you call me that, right?”

She nodded, her own smirk taking over. “I could tell.” She whispered. “I might talk in your class but I do pay attention, you know?”

He chuckled, one hand going between her legs again and rubbing softly. He watched her mouth drop open, mirroring her actions slightly. “So wet and I haven’t even touched you,” he shook his head and tapped her clit with his thumb.

“Please,” She whimpered.

He tilted his head. “Please what?” He asked, thumb circling her clit painfully slowly.

“I— fuck, I want you inside me.” Her face burned at her own words and at how he looked at her.

His finger teased her hole. “What? You want my fingers inside you?” He asked. He knew exactly what she wanted but he was going to make her specifically ask for it. She immediately grabbed his wrist and held it tightly.

“N-no… you know what I want, professor.” She said, narrowing her eyes.

“Say it.”

“No. Please,”

He tilted his head again. “You don’t say it, you leave and go back to your sad little dorm where all of your work is waiting for you.” She rolled her eyes and sharply inhaled when his fingers pressed against her clit again.

“Fine…” she swallowed her pride. “I want your dick inside me, professor.” She said. “Is that too much for me to ask for?” She spread her legs farther than before.

He pulled his pants down again, dropping them all the way to his ankles this time. He grabbed his dick and rubbed it through her folds. She whined quietly. His other hand began creeping up towards her neck again and she furrowed her brows.

“Are you holding back, professor?” She asked, pouty lips present.

He looked up from her dripping core at her face with a confused expression. “What?”

“You’ve place your hand near my neck a total of three times now.” She said. “It looks like you… want to choke me.”

His breath stuttered. “Oh wow, look at that. You actually have been paying attention.” He paused, still teasing her with the head of his cock.

“Please, professor.” He almost stopped breathing. “Choke. Me.”

His eyes popped a little, lit up almost. His hand slowly slid from the top of her collar bone to her throat. His large hand closed around it and she shut her eyes, mouth open.

Spencer pushed inside of her, eliciting a gasp and then a moan. She grabbed his wrist and opened her eyes for just a moment. “Harder.” Somehow he knew that she meant to choke her harder and tightened his grip on her. “Move, professor, please!”

He began to rock his hips slowly, lip caught between his teeth as he glanced from his hand around her neck to his dick disappearing inside of her over and over. “F-faster.” She stuttered, finding it quite hard to speak with him choking her.

“Do you like this? Huh, slut?” He asked, moving faster.

“Y…yours…” She whispered, tongue sliding over her lips. Her nails dug into his wrist.

Spencer tilted his head back a bit. “You’re my slut?” He asked. She nodded rapidly. “Damn right.”

She closed her eyes, moaning loudly. His other hand was gripping her hip so tight she might have been bruised by the end of it. “Fuck— feels so— g-good.” Her voice was quiet, broken. He found it sexy that she could barely speak.

“Am I squeezing too hard?” He asked, letting up the pressure just a bit.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she clenched around him, shaking her head. “Per-perfect.”

He groaned loudly and leaned forward, capturing her lips with his. His hand stayed on it place around her throat, loving how responsive she was.

She moaned into his mouth when his thrusts became harder and harder. “That feel good?” He asked, pulling away from her lips harshly. She nodded immediately and rapidly.

“S-so good.”

He could tell that she was close by the way her muscles were constricting. “Are you trying to hold back for me?” Her eyes opened slightly. She couldn’t find the words to say so she just nodded slightly. “Don’t fucking hold back, baby. I wanna see how good you can come for me.”

She let out a loud, high pitched moan as his dick moved faster inside of her. “Gonna c—“

“Shhhh.” He shook his head, his other hand came up to press his fingers against her lips. “Don’t talk, you’re gonna run out of air.” He said, giving her throat another squeeze to remind her of the situation she was in.

She sighed against his fingers and closed her eyes. Her legs began to shake, her chest heaved faster. Her muffled moans filled the room, she even bit down on his hand a bit to stop it from being so loud. She came hard, her eyes squeezed closed and her nails dug into his wrists.

She felt his cock pulse inside and spill into her. “Fuck!”

His hand left her mouth and he heard her heavy breaths. She laid back onto his desk, exhausted. He let go of her neck, both hands landing where her hips meet the tops of her thighs, he was still inside of her.

“Do you think you’ve have a good enough break?” He asked once both of their breaths slowed.

“Screw weed, this is the best stress reliever out there.”

——————————————

yuhhhhhh smut!!!!!

I feel like this is one of the best ones I’ve written— feel free to tell me otherwise—

Love whoever requested this!!!

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#spencer reid #spencer fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x original female character #criminal minds #spencer x oc #spencer x reader

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reztoru · 1 year

Text

──── With Love

彡 soft mornings with satoru in which he's a pest and wakes you up early to indulge himself in his favourite morning activities; doing you.

tw / cw : smut, soft gojo, he cums inside if you squint — but it’s never actually said (in fact it's never even said he nuts so fuck that guy fr) ,, gojo scars mentioned once, use of word "baby" once

pairing : gojo x reader

gender not specified, no detailed physical descriptions of reader but their features are referred to as delicate once

a/n : i had this done weeks ago but forgot to post it. I've been so busy ahh

w/c : 2.2k

Minors dni - 18+

The air in the room felt heavy. With the sun trying to invade the expanse of your haven. Forcing you to squint to adjust to the newly lit space. Head rolling over to check the time. Five? Six? You couldn’t tell. Not with the overgrown cat sprawled on you, begging for your attention.

“too early…” you grumble.

Satoru couldn’t disagree more. He drops a hand in your line of sight, lulling your focus onto him. As he let himself lean down to nuzzle his face against yours, peppering you with kisses.

“Satoru,” you started, knowing where he was going with this, “we have work today, and I’d like to make it on time.”

He pouted, offering you his best heartbroken eyes. “Please… stay, just for a bit, I promise.”

God, if he wasn’t so pretty, and you weren’t so drowsy, you’d have kicked him out of your bed by now. You tried giving him an angry look, you really did, but those kisses he was laying on you, and his feathery touches were chipping away at your resolve.

Ultimately, you gave him a sleepy nod with a tired yes. And that’s all he needed to indulge himself in his devious morning schemes. He started with his hand travelling down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. As he slotted his knee between your legs, giving himself support to hold his body up.

Now that you think of it, it isn’t such a bad way to start the day. With him manoeuvring around your form. As if he’s accomplished this in many past lives with you. In the same sweet early mornings, with the same conviction to serve — or maybe just to take.

Satoru gives you one last kiss on the lips, leaving a sloppy trail down your body as he makes his way to your core. Every little gasp that left you gave him a big grin.

“Needy much?” He says between kisses, nipping at your hip.

“Please, shut up.”

Thankfully, he listens; continuing to suck on your skin. His hands cupped the back of your thighs to push them up. The abruptness made you let out a little oh! as he sat up to kiss your ankle. Subsequently, he left behind a loving trail of him.

“Quite teasin’ or else I’ll kick you out of bed.” You uttered, a playful smile on your lips.

“And where’s the fun in that?”

You roll your eyes and watch as he continues to pepper every inch of your skin with kisses. As if he needed to remind you – your body that he adored; yearned for every inch of you. So much so that he’d spend hours exploring the expanse of your essence, even if he’s done it a million times over. Finally, he reaches your core; but that doesn’t mean his teasing stops.

His mouth brushes against you, poking his tongue out ever so slightly. But never enough or where you need him to. Honestly, you should’ve just suffocated him with your thighs; but he’d probably be more happy than anything – instead, you opt for his hair. You gave it a tug, making the man below you groan. You don’t give up, pushing his head closer to your core. Finally, he obliges, letting his tongue run alongside the length of you.

And so, your breathy whines begin their dance around the cracks of the morning rays. The minimal glow kissed the outline of Satoru’s jaw, intertwining with his icy locks. He looked heavenly in this position – despite his awful teasing. You couldn’t help but think, he’s way prettier when he isn’t talking. With his face buried down by your hips as his tongue laps at you. You drop your head, melting into the comfort of your warm pillows. Your fingers comb through his hair, a hum vibrating into you.

This moment may be called vulnerable. Soft, and full of adoration. Pure love in which it envelops your heart in such a firm clasp, you ask yourself if it’s still working — if it’s doing you any good. Love that enters your home before you could muster out a hello or welcome. A feeling that’s been lingering long before you were aware of its presence. It’s almost scary, and uncomfortable. I suppose that’s what makes it all the more exciting.

The thrill of the unknown, what’s to come? The adrenaline that courses through your veins, anticipating what’s next. But of course, right now, you know.

You’re accustomed to the comforting warmth of him being so close. Watching as he brings himself to loom over you. You’re mindful of the pause he takes, as he looks at you for a sign to keep going. And he knows when you pull him closer, bringing his face down to yours is your silent say to continue; he knows because you’ve spent several nights like this together. And when you let out a small gasp as you feel him enter you, the sound travels into him; something that tells him you want him just as much as he wants you.

He lets himself bottom out, stilling as he presses his hips flush against yours. He allows his head to rest against yours, his breath is a little shaky. And thus he continues, slowly dragging his cock out, and plunging back in. He savours the way you feel around his length; the way you sound. Oh and the faces you make.

Satoru’s crystal orbs roll over you, drowning in the delicate features. He falls into a scarce trance, watching your movements. Mouth faintly twitching, eyes shut. Eyelashes reaching out to your cheeks, with salty tears tangling the tips. Despite this daze, he hears those silken gasps. It forces his eyes to fall to the back of his skull, offering out a groan; he leans down to hide in your neck.

As a result, he allows himself to inhale your entirety; each sound, every movement. The way he consumes your entire being, you’d think it was almost toxic. Greedily taking more and more. His hips snapping into you harder, a little faster — letting himself get lost in staking claim to you for the nth time.

As his skin meets yours, again, and again, and again; it causes your nails to rake up his shoulders, fingers trying to find solace in his hair. And when they do, you pull his head back, allowing him to cast a gaze on you. “‘toru, ‘toru, ‘toru!” A silent chant that gripped onto his eardrums, making his eyes flicker down to your mouth. Mumbling in the same whiny tone, I know, I know. A shaky hand brings your leg to rest on his shoulder, pushing deeper into you.

And it’s then he decides, in this ashy greed, he’ll give parts of himself too. He’d offer you everything if he could. He’d give you the silky waters, to the ombre mountains. From the honeyed sky to the evening dew. He’d pick all the flowers in the world if only to make up for his hunger that eats you away.

For now, all he can offer is the soft pleasure that encases you both.

And he whispers, “a little more, yeah?”

Oh, but he knows you’ll let him indulge. If you had any sort of thoughts left and were more awake, you’d whine louder, be a little bratty. Instead, there’s only a quiet moan, more. Pawing at him, enticing him in. And how could he possibly stop when he wants it just as bad — when your eyes are filled with so much love.

With adoration for him and the way the morning light contours his silhouette. Offering him a warm glow as he moves into you, one that makes you have a sense of security. That tangy gleam caught his porcelain skin, making him appear to be burning up in a passionate hue. High cheekbones giving him a sophisticated cut; white locks that cling to the sweat on his forehead. And the subtle imperfections that grace his features, the bumps of scars whittled into him.

Bringing your hand to cup his face, focusing on him, letting your mouth take on its signature ‘o’. He thrusts into you, in a way that he’s memorized, a way that he knows will make your eyes roll. Those crystal orbs stare back, consuming one another. They left nothing to unveil behind them. Too many hours like this had passed. Moments of vulnerability, bare and raw. Traversing the depths of each other’s mind, body, and soul. Turning them inside out only for a taste of purity.

And right now, you’re a little too hazy; brimming with naught but him. He captivated all your senses. His scent and sound, all coursing through your body to your core. Oh, and the way he makes you feel so full. Each languid roll of his length pulls you closer and closer. It’s borderline unbearable how consumed you are.

Satoru, amid your haze, reaches up to grip the headboard, worsening your consumption of him. He gives a complete view of how big he really is. The sensation of being so filled with him as he bullies himself deeper into you is almost overwhelming. You try to turn away, close your eyes, something, anything to return to the pesky light of the morning star; to gain some control again, but it’s so good.

“please… don’t stop.”

Meanwhile, Satoru’s gaze wanders down your figure, taking in every curve, covered in a thin layer of sweat. The rays press on the surface of you. It mesmerizes him, how your form moves with each thrust and how the sun highlights each bounce. He’d call you divine, but the lewd sound of moans and skin meeting makes the entire scene seem sinful.

He lets his eyes dart up to your face, and you meet him there, bringing yourself to look into his solemn blues. His hands are ever-active, snaking around your back to pull you up onto his lap. He keeps you flush against him, rocking into you, faster and faster. His arm holds you tight, allowing his other hand to intertwine with yours. His lips find their place on your neck, leaving behind a trail of sugary words and dainty kisses.

“satoru”

“I know, baby. I know.”

His mouth lifts you into the clouds when his teeth graze your skin, nibbling your sweet spot. Truthfully, the bites and kisses aren’t only for your pleasure, they’re for him, too. Selfish man he is, needs this to pull him through the day — needs you to linger on him until he can savor you again. So, he’ll bite and kiss, knead and grab. It’s desperate.

You’d tease him any other time, but not right now, no. Not when you’re also being just as desperate to reach your high. As a result, you try to give yourself more stimulation, but Satoru swats you away. He isn’t entirely selfish, thus he’ll help get you there. You let your arm wrap around him, and in turn, he uses his freed hand to toy with you. Whispering quiet thank you’s, because he knows he’s a little mean for doing this so early, keeping you so late.

It’s your fault, is what he’d say. He’d tell you how it’s your fault for looking so captivating in the morning. How could he not want to ravage his stunning partner the second he wakes up? Especially when he gets rewarded with your melodic moans. You get rewarded too, of course, with a blossoming orgasm. That’s so close.

“Come with me,” he mumbles into you.

A string of yes’, and please’s fall from your lips. He keeps moving, letting his length slide into you. Paired with him playing with your most sensitive parts, it’s no surprise it doesn’t take much for you to transcend. To reach that pleasure that you’ve been yearning for this morning. That long-awaited climax; the only thing keeping Satoru safe in your warm bed.

And the intensity of electricity spreads through your veins, making your back arch. While your chest presses against him, you wonder if he can feel the way your body is burning up, or feel how your stomach tightens — or how your heart pounds against your ribs. The sensation is akin to a supernova bursting into all shades in the galaxy. It takes out any thoughts or worries in its burst. Mind going blank, and body going numb.

You pull him in for one last kiss, letting your moans slur into his mouth. It’s almost too much, how your body is a little airy and limp. But Satoru is there, and he keeps you grounded, pushing you through your orgasm. There’s most definitely a mess that’s been made, and you’re for sure going to make him clean it up, but for now, you breathe. Allowing your form to relax into him, floating into an oasis.

Gently, oh so gently, he lays you down. Watching the time sway by, falling back down to earth. You ask yourself if maybe you should just become a house spouse, with the way you’re never to work on time, anyway. Blissful pleasure turns into annoyance, and you do end up kicking him out of bed. He does clean up and buys you your favourites throughout the day. He’d insist that he loves you lots, and you’d reply with a snort.

“You’d let me sleep if you loved me.”

You know, though, it’s all with love, even if it’s mildly infuriating.

#𓂃 ⋆｡°﹆ ⁞ spirit writes #𓂃 ₊‧⁺˖⋆ deep blue #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #gojo satoru x you #gojo x you #gojo x gender neutral reader #gojo x gn!reader #gojo satoru x gender neutral reader #gojou x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut

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fishsticksloser · 8 months

Note

Hi! Could I request Donnie x gn reader (or female, whatever is more comfortable with you)

Okay so- it was normal day in the lair and Donnie just ran into common room to rumble about his newest invention/project.

After a couple of minutes he noticed that noone was listening to him, everyone ignored his monologue. He went quiet but as soon as he did so, he Heard "will you continue or..?" It was ofc reader. They were so interested and amazed by his imagination that they couldn’t stop listening to him!

After awhile, when he was done with his speech, reader and April had to go, bc you know, school and stuff. BUT before they did, reader remembered something, they came up to Donnie and gave him some materials he said he needed the previous week "OH! I almost forgot! You were rumbling about missing parts to your projects, and how you didn’t have luck nor time to find and get them, so i just thought im gonna get them for you…here!” And donnie just stares at reader with this shining eyes and slight blush

Hope it’s okay <333

Crush

Donnie x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff, slight angst (purely Donnie's feelings nothing bad!), siblings suck, kinda short

A/N: Yes! Cute! Need!

Previous | Next

Donnie was used to being ignored. Truly he was. Still he would often talk about what he was working on to possibly find a solution to an issue, even if no one was listening.

So here he sat, in the living room with everyone else, yapping away about all the modifications he made on the Turtle Tank. Everyone else was doing something. Leo was reading a comic, Mikey was drawing, Splinter was watching tv, while Raph, April, and Casey all played a game. Donnie was tired of no one paying attention so he just stopped talking. No one moved.

"Are you gonna keep going?" He hears you ask. He turned to his right, seeing you sitting on the chair next to the couch. Donnie didn't even remember you coming in. He smiled slightly and continued his rambling, directing it at just you now. Of course he was making it sound so much cooler than it was... This is Donnie after all.

After a few hours of talking about his inventions, April tapped you and said it was time to go. Donnie was a little disappointed, he was finally excited to talk about an invention. He deflated a little, watching you leave. But suddenly you come running back in.

"Oh! Um... You mentioned last week that you were having trouble finding some parts and..." Donnie watched as you opened your back pack and handed him a few of the parts he'd been searching for. "I... I had some extra time and found them for you."

Donnie's cheeks heated up as he watched you run off. He was blushing? Impossible, Donnie doesn't blush. Still the fact that you went out of your way to find the parts he couldn't get his hands on made his heart race a bit.

"Ooooo! Donnie has a crush!" He heard Leo and Mikey laugh and nudge him as they walk by.

Crush? Donnie? Please, that's simply imaginary. Donnie doesn't do crushes.

"And someone's got a crush on Donnie." Raph chuckles, patting Donnie's back as he makes his way to his room.

A crush? You have a crush on Donnie? Why would anyone have a crush on Donnie? Now that's a tall tale, much like dragons but not Bigfoot, the Loch Ness Monster, or Pizzasaurus.

He shakes his head, not wanting to believe it. He stands up and walks to his room, trying to think of other possible solutions. Why would anyone like him? He's a freak. Not even his brothers like listening to his ramblings.

Then Donnie comes to the same conclusion as Mikey and Leo. He has a crush on you, but that doesn't explain your actions towards him... No. He still doesn't believe it.

He refuses.

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baby-yongbok · 9 months

Text

Pleasure & Power

Hard Dom!Hyunjin x Sub!Fem Reader x Dom!Felix

Genre: Smut, makes mud look clean, idol

Word Count: 3,236

A/N: 3rd person POV + Thick/Chubby and POC Reader + I wrote this in a haze at 5am lol enjoy.

✨️Masterlist✨️

Summary: Your boyfriends take pride in pleasuring you. On another ordinary day, they decide to show you just how much they enjoy you.

Warnings: Poly Relationship, Unprotected Sex (Wrap it up ya'll), Multiple Orgasms, Semi-Public Sex, Car Sex, Choking, mention of drugs, mention of edging. (That should be all, sorry if I missed anything!)

Reader is called: Baby, Good Girl, Brat, Sweetheart, Angel, Sweetie , Greedy Girl, Kitten

It wasn’t rare that you’d get home first, your shoots tended to start earlier than theirs since you picked the world's busiest photographer and the only consecutive appointment you could secure is a 6 a.m. every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag by the large front window that was your primary selling point for buying this house. You strut over to the kitchen after checking that the door is locked twice and opening the blinds in the main room. Your pale pink tennis skirt and white crop top moved smoothly with your body as you reached up on your toes to grab a bottle of white wine that Hyunjin brought back with him from his Burberry shoot last week. The only thing on your mind was relaxing and you planned on doing so by sitting on your suede apple red couch with your feet up listening to R&B while you more than generously treat yourself to this fine wine.

"Yeah, I just got in." Felix dropped his bag next to yours, locking the door behind him. "Yeah she's here, knocked out as usual."

Quietly, he steps over to the side of the couch trying to ensure that his sneakers against the hardwood wouldn't wake you.

"Oh? So what are you thinking?" He listened to Hyunjin’s plan as he slipped off his shoes carefully and stepped a bit closer to your sleeping body.

“Sounds like a plan” The smile on the freckled man’s face spoke a thousand words and little did you know you were about to hear all about it.

"Alrigh', bye"

Gently sitting next to you, Felix puts his arm around you and pulls you into him.

"Y/n" He whispers your name trying to make sure you’re really asleep as he takes a second to take in your outfit of the day, internally moaning at the sight of the pale colors against your vibrant brown skin.

"You know what." Felix whispers to himself as he moves from next to you, careful not to wake you up. Moving Gently, He sets your feet on the floor from the ottoman and spreads your legs ever so slowly. He wasn't surprised to find you in a thong since it seemed to be your preferred method of undergarment.

Moving it to the side lightly he wastes no time to lick a hot stripe up your pussy and showing your clit the attention it deserves very early on. Your body jolts at the sudden sensation as it musters and releases an involuntary moan.

"Baby?" you moaned out before your brain could catch up with what was happening.

"Mmm" He responded with a hum purposefully keeping contact with your core. He worked his tongue against you just the way you loved it, gaining moans of approval and jolts so powerful that he had to put his arm across your hips to hold you down.

"Hol' still baby." He mumbles as he pulls back momentarily to lick his lips. "Be good for me."

You tried your best to keep your hips in place, biting down on your lips to displace the pleasure. Your legs shook and your thighs slightly clenched around his head making him moan into you each time. Only the heaven's know how much time passed from the time that he started to now. Five or ten minutes, maybe? Either way it was enough time for him to get home; the third.

Felix didn't pull away from your core one bit at the sign of his arrival, if anything, he sucked at your pleasure nub more aggressively attempting to milk a third orgasm from you.

"Well isn't this a sight to be welcomed home to" Hyunjin, your other boyfriend, comments as he sits his bag down with all the others by the large window. His eyes seemed darkened with lust the moment that he walked through the door and that's when you knew that the two had planned this from the moment that Felix saw you sleeping on the couch. They planned to ruin you.

"Jin." You moaned his name lazily and reached your hand out to him. He sits on the edge of the curved couch, just out of your reach.

"Does it feel good, y/n? Tell me about it " Hyunjin's teasing nature was elaborate and nearly demeaning. You'd never guess that he’d like to take the dominant lead until you got to know him.

"H-he's sucking and licking my pussy so good, Jin." Your answer makes Hyunjin grin.

"Aren't you glad you have two men who are always planning your pleasure?" Nodding feverishly you let out a deep moan as Felix replaces his tongue with his fingers giving himself a short break.

"There’s never a day that we don't want you feelin' good, baby" Without a chance to reply, your third orgasm snuck up your spine causing your back to arch in pleasure. A chuckle fell from Hyunjin’s lips.

“That’s a good girl.” Hyunjin gets closer to you, kissing you teasingly soft. He deepens the kiss and you eagerly follow his lead.

“You know what I want to know?” Felix asks as he slowly removes his fingers from your throbbing cunt.

“Hm?” Hyunjin asks, pulling away from the kiss between you two.

“What’s for lunch?” Felix stands from his spot in front of you looking down at you with a menacingly cocky grin. They are not about to do what you think they’re about to do, they wouldn’t.

“I was actually thinking that we should try this Thai place further into town. I think the menu is in the kitchen.” Hyunjin stands with Felix and they both start to make their way towards the kitchen leaving you a literal dripping mess on the couch. You whine loudly earning chuckles from the both of them.

“Did you hear something, bro?” Felix asks.

“Mm nothing besides a whining brat, no.” They both laugh as they get further into the kitchen to look for the lunch menu. You can faintly hear their voices as they laugh and talk over the menu as well as the three orgasms Felix just put you through. “Y/n, you wanna try the Thai place?”

“S-sure” You can’t help but to stutter as you readjust your clothes and fix the wide part of your thong to cover your soaked core.

“They don’t deliver so Hyunjin is gon call it in and I’m gon pick it up, you wan’ come?

“Yeah, okay, I could use some air.”

Paparazzi were already swarming the streets when you and Felix arrived at the Thai spot. It happened to be in a pretty popular part of town and once they saw the two of you all of the attention went from some up and coming star to Felix. They immediately started asking questions about the new album and what he and the other members planned to do on tour. They asked him how he feels about dating a model and if he shares you with other guys in the group which earned that particular reporter an aggressive push and a warning from Felix. Yes, you were dating both him and Hyunjin but the two men went by a motto when it came to the public eye ‘It’s none of their business who you’re on your knees for’.

Ultimately, he told you to keep your head down and stay quiet, don’t leave his side and you’ll be in and out in no time. That was fifteen minutes ago and you and Felix were just making your way back home when you decided that you wanted some payback for what he and Hyunjin pulled earlier. You placed your hand on his thigh ‘innocently’ rubbing his knee. He looked over at you with a quizzical look that you ignored as you continued to stare forward into the headlights of oncoming traffic.

Suddenly, he made a left turn instead of a right and your hand stopped rubbing at his knee. With furrowed brows you asked where he was going but he stayed silent only glancing over at you with a hard look on his face. Did you do something wrong back at the Thai spot? Did you deal with the paparazzi wrong? He pulls into a parking deck for some huge business building and goes all the way to the back of the third floor where the cars are more than generously spread apart. Just as you’re about to ask him why you’re there his hand finds a tight grip on your throat and he pushes you back into your seat.

“Do you think that I don’t know what you’re up to, Sweetheart?” He grins over at you before pulling you towards him with one hand on your hip and the other staying around your neck. He positions you so that you’re straddling him in the front seat and he leans the chair back a bit to allow you to move a bit freely.

“Listen to me when I tell you this, angel; I can read you like a fucking book. There isn’t a thing that you thought about that I didn’t think about first.” A moan leaves your lips as his breath hits your neck. The smell of his cologne only amplifies the arousal you feel at your core. “You wanted revenge righ’? You wanted to get me back for leaving you needy on the couch.”

Your eyes meet his and he can immediately see how desperate you are, it’s not like you were trying to hide it anyway, Felix just has that effect on you. “ Go ahead.”

He lets go of the grip around your neck and you take this as your chance to get what you really want. You immediately start to fumble with his jeans, trying your best to undo the buttons and zipper, he makes no attempt to help you, he simply watches with a wide smile on his face. He loves watching you act greedy for his dick, the way you pant as you focus on getting him inside of you is a sight that he could watch on repeat. You finally free his cock from the restraints of his jeans and moan slightly at the sight of his thickness, pulling your thong to the side for him once again.

Your palm presses flat against the glass of the window as Felix helps you grind against him, the window fogging up from your breathless gasps and heated bodies that are pressed against each other. Your forehead rests against his as your eyes flutter shut, completely and utterly entranced by pleasure. His lips started lingering against yours before deepening into a breathless makeout while your bare core rubbed over his aching member.

"Fuck, angel." Felix groans, his eyes flickering down between the two of you, he positions his dick right at your entrance and slowly pushes inside. His eyes never leave your aching cunt as he watches his cock slip in and out of you, his fingers grip into your hips as you ride him, your head is thrown back in pleasure as you take all of his thick member. The stretch of him filling you with each thrust is what you loved the most, it's what you craved every single day that you woke up next to him.

"So perfect for me, fuckin' me nice and good, aren't you?" Moans fall from your lips as you reach over to grip onto his strong shoulders, not able to form legible words let alone a full sentence.

“Take it baby, take it all.” That’s the last thing you heard him say before your orgasm quietly built up and melted inside of you, of course that didn’t matter to him. He fucked you through your climax until he reached his own. The overstimulation you felt was like being high on the best weed you’ve ever bought. You could barely pick yourself up off of him when it was time to go.

“Come on, sweetie, the foods gettin’ cold.”

Hours later you found yourself on the same red couch as earlier watching a movie with Hyunjin. Felix turned in early to make sure he got at least a little bit of rest before he had to be up in a couple of hours. Luckily for you and Hyunjin, tomorrow is your day off. You’re not really sure what movie the two of you are watching, it was a random Netflix pick that turned out to be pretty good. You'd love it even more if it wasn’t a horror film.

“I think I'm gonna grab some ice cream, ya want some?” You ask Hyunjin and he shakes his head no with a small grin. You waste no time in standing from your previous seat, a bit desperate to get away from the movie for a bit. You reach into the freezer for your favorite Ice cream and turn swiftly on your heels to place it on the counter and pick out a bowl. Just as you close the freezer you jump and scream at Hyunjin who’s snuck up on you while you were distracted. He put his hand over your mouth just in time to avoid waking up Felix. When he feels that you’re calm he lets you go.

“What the fuck Jin why -” He takes a step towards you as he cuts you off mid sentence.

“Did he fuck you in the car?” You look up at him with wide guilty eyes as you take in a large gulp of air. “Did he fuck you in the drivers seat? The back seat? Where’d he fuck you, y/n?”

“I-in the driver's seat.” He steps forward, and you don’t know if his movements are turtle-like or cheetah-like. You step back again and your back hits the counter. He swiftly moves his hand under your tiny nightgown and runs his finger up your folds. “Is that why you’re so wet?”

You shake your head yes and he looks down at your mouth. You can’t move when he steps closer again, crowding you. There’s a pause and then he leans down, pressing one hand flat on the cabinet above your head. He hesitates, teasing you a bit before you both indulge in the welcome touch of his lips against your own.

He eases your mouth open with his tongue, sweet and slow. His free hand finds your hip, digging his nails into the skin through your nightgown, you gasp and he takes it as a chance to deepen the kiss. His tongue skates along your front teeth and it urges you to press forward and do the same to him.

Felix has the things that he’s good at when it comes to pleasuring you but Hyunjin takes the award for best kisser. He kisses you so thoroughly and passionately that you find yourself lost in the exchange.

Your hands come up to the back of his head, almost without your volition. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and when he bites down ever so slightly, a small moan escapes you. He lets go of your bottom lip then kisses it, like he’s soothing the bite mark there, before kissing you fully on the mouth again. Your body shivers in anticipation as you two fight for dominance with your tongues, a battle that you always lose. Getting more into it, you find yourself sucking on his tongue as he exhales heavily into your mouth. You hum, pleased at his reaction, taking control of the kiss for just a second, but of course that’s about to change.

He pulled back before lifting you up on top of the counter and spreading your legs. He lifted his hand to the side of your neck and pressed his mouth to yours.

“Or are you wet because you want me to taste you? Is that what you’ve been thinking about, angel?” He asked, nipping at your bottom lip. “I saw the look on your face this afternoon. You wanted me to taste you after Felix did, didn’t you?” He said before running his tongue up over your lips.

“You’re just a greedy girl aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir, I'm greedy.” You answered, brushing his lips against yours. “You and daddy fuck me so good that I can’t help it.”

Hyunjin shook his head and dropped to his knees. He curled his arms around your thighs immediately lapping his tongue over your clit.

“Ooh.” You moaned, tangling your fingers in his hair. “ Please, taste me until I’m shaking from coming so much.” You told him watching him suck around your clit. Hyunjin and you had a different type of relationship sexually. Felix was fun and giggly with a side of pounding and domination but Hyunjin was a mind fuck, He liked hearing you tell him how much you love what he’s doing. He wants to tease and bring you close to the edge over and over until either of you can’t go on any longer. Felix enjoyed you but Hyunjin savored you.

“But his tongue isn’t your tongue.” You said, shaking your head as another wave of bliss crashed over you. The boys liked when you told them how much better one was than the other. It was a game to them in the end, they’d playfully argue about who fucks you better, understands you better and god knows whatelse.

“He doesn’t make me come as fast as you can.” You cooed, running your fingers through his hair.

“It’s so good.” You moaned, pulling the hair at the crown of his head. He growled in response only driving you crazier. He circled his thumb around your clit while he worked his tongue inside of you. You leaned back against the cabinets, finally breaking your eye contact. He ran his tongue back up to your clit just circling it with firm pressure. Your thighs began to tremble as he brought you closer. You knew without a doubt in your mind that he was the best at eating you out. With a groan he began fingering you while sucking at your clit again and a moment later you were reaching your peak. You writhed and moaned and Hyunjin took in every moment of it. He stood up and yanked you closer to the edge of the counter before connecting your lips again.

“Taste yourself, kitten” You do as you're told, sucking his lips to get a hint of your taste. “I want to fuck you so badly”

He pulls back and his dark eyes meet your heavy ones, a grin sneaks upon his lips as he takes in your lustful state, hungry for more of him.

“But, that would be giving you what you want and we both know that you need to earn that.”

“Please I-”

“No.” With another kiss Hyunjin lets you down from the counter and as he’s towering over you once again he grabs you by the back of your neck. “I’ll take what I want when I can’t stand the anticipation anymore and if you touch yourself or Felix I will know and I will edge you for hours.” You stared up at him, your eyes still dusted with lust. Right now edging sounded better than not getting fucked by him but you knew that he meant business and you decided to try and be good for once in your bratty life.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes sir”

605 notes · View notes

iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin · 2 months

Text

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

the endings

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. click here for game day (group) chapter.

⋆˙⟡ wc: member endings are ~1k each, group endings are less than 500 words each! (in total: ~5k)

⋆˙⟡ reader: no pronouns used for reader at all in any of the endings :)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ endings summary: choose your own ending! jiwoong, hao, matthew, hanbin, taerae, group (quasi-poly), and group (revenge) are all included. most are angst/fluff and some are suggestive.

⋆˙⟡ warnings: there is no smut in these endings, but they allude to smut that happened previously or suggest smut that would follow these endings. please, minors dni still with this post! member endings are all happy (with angst). revenge ending is also happy, depending on what makes you happy! lol.

I'M SO SAD IT'S OVER. writing the bully series was so much fun! thank you to the anon who suggested it in the first place a couple months ago and for everyone who has given positive feedback/input! i appreciate it so much. these endings are all crafted with so much love! let me know which one you love most. maybe i'll put a poll at the bottom lol. ily, catch you in the next series!!

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

jiwoong 🎭

“so i’ll hand out these scripts and we’ll get started right away,” professor lee announces, walking around the room and handing out scripts for everyone’s assigned scenes. mina sits next to you as usual, except this week she’s staring daggers at jiwoong from across the room. you guess it beats her making googly eyes at him.

mina had called you last night to rant again about how much of a jerk “jiwoong-sshi” is. note the absence of the word “oppa”. you were sorry that he’d stood her up, but you knew what kind of a person he could be long before last week.

and she unfortunately didn’t seem to care how much of a jerk jiwoong was when you were the one bearing the brunt of it.

but you don’t want to dwell on it. you’d just fucked him and four of his friends in the campus activities lounge and had no plans to tell her. she’d asked you how the “revenge” went, but you’d kept it all pretty vague. mina was no prude, but she might have the urge to gossip a bit with news as insane as that. you wouldn’t blame her if she did.

still, you didn’t regret what you did saturday. not even a little bit. in fact, it made you feel kind of proud every time you thought about it.

you spend all of class working on a scene with mina in which you play a really outrageous set of characters trying to escape arrest. it’s a role that you’ve never opted to take before— one that requires you to be bold, funny, and brave.

professor lee praises you after you present it at the end of class. “excellent work. what’s gotten into you, (y/n)-sshi? whatever it is, let’s keep peeling back that shell!”

you smile with pride, eyes scanning the rest of the room until they happen to land on kim jiwoong.

he’s smiling, too.

when class ends, you pick your bag up off the floor and toss in your marked-up script. you’d normally throw it in the recycling bin, but you want to keep it this time. as a reminder of what you’re capable of when you’re sure of yourself.

mina giggles as you walk out the door together and into the hallway. “i’m surprised, but you really pulled that off!”

“i’m not.”

both of your heads whip around to find kim jiwoong leaning against the wall behind you.

“you just needed some... encouragement,” he says with a smirk, but there’s a noticeable warmth in his eyes.

“and what exactly do you need in order to be able to show up to a commitment you made?” mina asks with a scowl. your eyes narrow at him, too.

“listen, i–... i’m really sorry, mina,” he responds sincerely. the fact that he even got her name right has you stifling a gasp— let alone the apology that prefaced it. “i shouldn’t’ve stood you up. that was mean. so i’m sorry.”

mina sucks in her cheek, looking at the ceiling as she considers his sentiment.

“but i actually have something else to apologize for, too,” he adds quickly, gaze moving back and forth between the both of you. “i... i wasn’t really interested in you in the first place. i was—... i used you. to get a reaction out of the person i’m actually interested in.”

his eyes meet yours. your lips part in shock at his sudden confession. you stare at him for a long moment, unspeaking until—

“AREYOUKIDDINGMEYOUABSOLUTEDICKOFAHUMANBEINGYOULIETOANDSTANDUPMYFRIENDANDLEAVEHERINFUCKINGTURMOILOVERYOUANDTHEN—.”

you glance over at mina, expecting to see tears running down her face but instead...

she’s grinning. from ear to ear. and not in a joker sort of way— just genuine happiness.

“i knew it,” she says, clasping her hands together in front of her face and jumping excitedly. “i KNEW it! i knew you both liked each other!”

“you—... what!?” you exclaim, eyes bugging at this bizarre turn of events. “what do you mean, ‘you knew we liked each other’!?”

“i’m also confused,” jiwoong says with a frown. “considering i didn’t really know until, like, yesterday.”

“well, i knew you were going to like each other. eventually,” she says with a nod. “you know, shy, quiet person and arrogant, attractive person trope. it’s destiny!”

“if you really thought that, then why did you wanna go out with him so bad?” you ask through furrowed brow.

“‘cause he’s hot. duh,” she says, shaking her head with a smile as if your question was very silly. “can you blame me for wanting a taste first?”

“well, if it’s just a taste we’re talking about—,” jiwoong starts to offer with a smirk.

“one more word and the only thing you’ll be tasting is—” you interject, balling your hand into a fist.

“aw, first lovers’ spat! i’ll leave you guys to it,” mina says quickly before sprinting off down the now-empty hall.

you look down at your shoes awkwardly. “i have nothing else to say to you.”

“then, you won’t mind if i talk?” jiwoong asks, not waiting for a response to continue. “when hanbin made me start bullying you last year, i honestly didn’t want to. you were pathetic enough already without my help.”

“gee, thanks,” you reply with with a frown.

“but then i sort of started to have fun with it. the way you reacted was absolutely intoxicating. you made it all so rewarding— coming up with a new plan to drive you crazy every day,” he explains. “then last week, when we started that competition, i found a whole new way to drive you crazy. and i liked it a lot more.”

“this is the most convoluted apology i’ve ever received,” you remark with a sigh.

“after saturday, seeing you like that... you were far from pathetic. and it made me proud. i think, somewhere along the way, i just became really fond of you,” jiwoong confesses, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “and i also desperately want to buy you better clothes.”

“okay, i’m leaving now,” you announce, turning on your heel.

“what a coincidence. me too,” jiwoong says, grabbing your hand and lacing his fingers with yours as he starts to drag you with him down the hall. “you’re hungry, right?”

you start to protest, but as you look at his handsome side profile— dark hair covering the tips of his ears— you realize you are, in fact... hungry.

“starving,” you answer.

he stops walking to look at you, eyes widening with surprise. “yeah? what would you like to eat then?”

staring at his lips, you can’t help but lick your own. “mina’s right, y’know.”

jiwoong’s head tilts, the corner of his lip upturning slowly as he registers your expression. “is she?”

“mhm,” you answer, pressing your lips to his. he responds quickly: soft, lazy, and stupidly addictive. you can’t believe you let him get away last week without kissing you. you could give him just one chance, couldn’t you? “but what she doesn’t know...”

he attaches your lips again, free hand cupping your jaw.

“is that one taste of you...”

jiwoong inhales sharply as you gently bite his bottom lip.

“just isn’t enough.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

hao 🎻

you rush into orchestra on tuesday, already five minutes late. unfortunately, your regular bus never showed at the stop. and then your back-up bus also never showed. which means you had to walk all the way to campus when you hadn’t planned to— your violin case in tow.

rehearsal having started already, you make a beeline for your seat and frantically open your violin case. luckily you’d warmed up your instrument before you’d left your house this week and your bow is ready to play when it hits the violin strings.

or, it would be, if you didn’t just realize you forgot your sheet music.

“oh, for fucks sake,” you mumble, looking up at the sky and begging for the sweet release of death in this tragically embarrassing moment.

a soft creaking noise draws your attention to your left, where you find hao’s music stand is suddenly angled in your direction.

he doesn’t say anything or look at you. he just keeps playing. and so you follow the first chair’s lead.

rehearsal goes surprisingly well. you’re sure you managed to correct all of your mistakes from last week after being able to put more rosin on your bow.

“third and fourth chair are falling behind the tempo,” hao replies when professor ahn asks him for notes about the performance. your eyes widen when he names a violinist other than yourself that needs correcting. “it makes it harder for first and second chair to successfully introduce and complete the next movement.”

first and second chair? hao was voluntarily grouping you together?

professor ahn seems as surprised as you. she nods, writing down her own notes in the binder on her music stand. she waves her hand, dismissing the orchestra for the day. you clean your violin, getting it ready to be put back in its case as your classmates begin to file out of the orchestra room.

“(y/n)-sshi,” professor ahn calls suddenly from the doorway. your heart drops to your stomach at the mention of your name. “you actually played quite well today. i’ll assume it’s because you had the help of the concertmaster’s annotations. don’t be late again.”

you nod quickly, bowing your head respectfully to her. “thank you, professor-nim. i’ll play even better next time.”

you’re left alone with hao as usual, both cleaning your violins with the utmost care. when you finish, you place your instrument in its case before fishing around in the side pocket and pulling out something small.

hao locks his violin case, placing it sideways at his feet. finally, he looks at you.

you hold out the cake of rosin that he’d given you last week and told you to bring to your next rehearsal. you’d be remiss to notice that even though you didn’t show him until after class, he never told professor ahn that you’d stolen it like he threatened.

hao examines the rosin, completely ruined from what you’d both done with it. there was no cleaning it and you couldn’t use it if you tried.

you expect to catch some attitude, but, to your surprise, he smiles. “guess it couldn’t be salvaged, huh?”

“guess not,” you agree with a shrug. “at least you got some use out of it.”

“mm,” he hums after a moment before reaching down and reopening his violin case delicately. his hand disappears into one of the side pockets and pulls out a fresh cake of his premium rosin.

and then he hands it to you.

you stare at it in your palm, wide-eyed. “w-what are you—”

“you’re a pretty decent violinist,” hao says matter-of-factly. “sometimes— not often— but sometimes i feel like you have the potential to be almost as good as me. but you’ll never reach it if you don’t start using higher quality products to care for your instrument.”

“oh,” you reply, brow furrowing as he locks up his violin again. “so you’ve decided to take pity on me now?”

he smirks. “something like that.”

“i guess it’s better than pure hatred,” you respond, rolling your eyes as you tuck the box of rosin into your own violin case.

“i never hated you,” hao says with a frown. you sit back up, lips parting as your eyes meet his. “i didn’t particularly like you, but i only told professor ahn about the mistakes you were making because they were careless. you always came in the next week with those same mistakes completely perfected.”

“so you were motivating me through public shame?” you clarify, one brow piqued in disbelief.

“doing whatever it takes to improve the sound of the orchestra is what sets a great concertmaster apart from a mediocre one,” he explains, deciding to paint himself as a misunderstood martyr.

“oh, i’m sure it was so difficult for you to step up and take one from the team,” you mock, a laugh escaping you at hao’s audacity. “do you hear what you’re saying? you’re so fucking full of yourself. who gave you the right to play god and—?”

hao leans in, connecting his lips to yours mid-rant. your breath hitches in disbelief as he pulls back.

“would you be mad if i said i wanna get to know you better?” he asks, hand resting on your thigh.

you look down at his long fingers on your soft skin. “furious,” is what you answer.

he presses his lips together in a hopeless smile. “i’ll take it that means you don’t feel the same way then.”

“you always think you know everything about everything,” you huff, grabbing his hand in yours and bringing it further up your thigh. “but you don’t. so i guess you will have to get to know me better if you wanna keep being an insufferable know-it-all.”

as soon as a smile appears on hao’s face, it’s replaced by the cutest frown. “i’m sad now.”

“why?” you ask, not sure how your answer could’ve possibly made him sad when it was the one he wanted.

“i took for granted how absolutely fucking adorable you are when you’re angry,” he whines, a disheartened little pout on his pretty lips. “kind of makes me wish i could keep making you angry from time to time.”

you blink at him, looking around awkwardly as a reluctant smile grows on your face. “i mean—... i guess i’d have to worry about my playing skills suffering if you stop completely. that wouldn’t be very responsible of concertmaster-nim.”

“no, it wouldn’t,” he replies, biting his lip in a smirk. you’re fully aware of what this title does to him. “so what should i do to keep you playing well?”

you look up at the ceiling, considering your options. “maybe you could see what other things in the music room fit up my—” “that’s depraved,” hao scolds, shaking his head at you in shock before a grin peeks through. “are you free right now?”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

matthew 💪

with three weeks left of your soccer unit in phys. ed, you braced for an awkward class on wednesday. as you wait outside in the warm, spring breeze with your classmates, you waited anxiously for matthew to show up.

he doesn’t.

coach yang blows his whistle, signaling for you to form a straight line in front of him. luckily one of your classmates asks the question for you.

“coach-nim! where’s matthew hyung?” the younger boy asks in front of you. “we wanted to talk to him about the game.”

“ah, matthew-sshi is on a strict regimen of weight-training and cardio until the championship,” coach yang answers with a sigh. a little quieter, he adds, “and maybe that’ll teach him to stay in line.”

maybe, you think. maybe not.

it’s a surprisingly pleasant p.e. class. your classmates are respectful, giving you as much grace during the game as possible. your sunbaenim from your calc class even pushes you behind him when a ball comes a bit too quickly towards your face.

“thanks,” you say with a smile.

he smiles back. “don’t mention it.”

this class sure was different when someone wasn’t trying to kill you the whole time. that being said, you’re pretty disappointed that matthew isn’t here. you can’t help but wonder how he would’ve treated you today after saturday night.

when class is over, coach yang hands you a hose, some rags and a ball trolley. he still can’t look you in the eye after what happened. “here’s your supplies. shouldn’t take you more than an hour.”

you nod ashamedly, getting to work right away.

“and a word of advice,” coach yang adds over his shoulder. “don’t be afraid to put him in his place from time to time. you played well today without him. it’s nice to see you have some more confidence, (y/n)-sshi. good luck.”

the last thing you were expecting today was a pep talk from coach yang. you walk over to the right side of the field and pick up a muddy, grass-stained ball and bring it over to the hose. washing it thoroughly and buffing any stains with a rag, you drop it into the ball trolley and make your way to the back of the field to retrieve a couple more.

you grab one from behind the goal, turning around to fetch the other one. but as you do, you come face to face with matthew— tossing the ball gently back and forth between his hands.

“hi,” he greets shyly.

your lips press together in an awkward smile. “hi.”

he doesn’t say anything else for a moment, so you brush past him— bringing your ball back to the hose. he follows behind you quietly, placing his soccer ball on the ground beside yours. you pick up the hose and douse them both in the cold water. matthew picks up a rag and kneels down on the ground next to you, buffing the soccer ball you’d brought over.

you pick up the one he brought over, doing the same. “that one was mine.”

his eyes widen, holding out the ball to you wordlessly in an attempt to give it back.

you can’t help but laugh. “i was just kidding.”

“right,” he replies with a nod, returning to cleaning the ball. “sorry.”

you raise one eyebrow at him quizzically. “are you okay?”

“hm?” he asks before nodding quickly. “oh, yeah. i’m fine.”

“are you sure?” you question further. “because this is my punishment and you’re helping me when you should be getting ready for practice.”

matthew shrugs. “it was my fault.”

“it absolutely was,” you agree, tossing your soccer ball into the trolley. “and you got away with it scot-free.”

suddenly, matthew’s hand reaches toward your forehead— thumb brushing over the tiny scar from where the ball he kicked had scraped your skin. “i shouldn’t have.”

well this is... new. matthew taking accountability for his actions? you never thought you’d see the day.

“i—... um...” he stutters, starting to pick at the grass in front of him. “i think i should probably be punished. for that. and for a lot of things.”

oh.

so he’d really liked it.

“oh. should i tell coach yang to—,” you play dumb, starting to stand up like you’re about to march right into his office yourself.

“NO! ... no. no,” matthew grabs your hand, keeping you seated next to him. he bites his lip, clearly embarrassed by what he’s about to say. “want you to do it.”

“huh,” you reply with frown. “i thought you didn’t really prefer people who were tainted.”

“you aren’t tainted,” he says, shaking his head. “that—... that was really immature of me to say. and gross. and i’m... i’m sorry.”

you look at him for a long moment, studying his eyes to see if he’s being genuine or not. there’s no obvious signs of lying. he’s very nervous, but it’s not because he’s being untruthful. maybe it’s because he finally is.

“and i can also assume that you said sorry to the waterboy?” you ask, pressing your lips together in an attempt to not laugh at his panicked expression. “and that defense player on the other team? actually, you should probably just draft a mass apology and send it to every university team you’ve ever played against. it would save some time.”

matthew nods sullenly. “yeah. i can do that.”

you have to admit, you like matthew quite a bit when he’s like this. he’s agreeable, apologetic, and distressingly adorable.

“i appreciate your willingness to cooperate,” you reply, patting him on the shoulder gently. “i think... maybe... we could make this work.”

matthew’s eyes light up at this. “really? you’d wanna keep doing... this?”

you smile. “yeah. it doesn’t sound so bad, now that you’re being nice to me.”

matthew smiles with embarrassment, avoiding your gaze. “i guess i should’ve tried this approach last year. but i—... have you ever heard of alpha male podcasts?”

“matthew,” you groan, palm flying to your forehead in disbelief. “you’re gonna unsubscribe from every single one of those, okay?”

he nods frantically. “of course. they didn’t get me anything anyway, except a light ‘roid addiction.”

“do not tell anyone that, oh my god,” you reprimand, hitting his thigh. “you’re also gonna throw all of that out immediately.

“ah, it was so expensive though,” he winces, tilting his head as he weighs the consequences. “can’t i sell them instead?”

“JUST GET RID OF—,” you shout, cutting yourself off when matthew suddenly leans over and kisses your cheek.

he grins. “you’re so beautiful when you’re disappointed in me.”

“you’re—... you—...” you stutter until matthew leans in again, pressing his lips to yours this time. he pulls back, leaving your brain hazy. “please don’t be so mean to me again.”

he shakes his head decisively. “i won’t. i promise.”

you smile, stomach fluttering as he beams at you.

“but, like... you’re okay with being mean to me sometimes, right?” matthew asks, scratching the back of his neck.

“oh, absolutely,” you answer with a nod. “i’ll start now.”

he laughs passively, obviously interpreting this as a joke. “sure, sure.”

you stand up, hovering your foot over his crotch. “finish cleaning these soccer balls. now.”

matthew’s eyes widen with fear, hopping to his feet immediately, bowing his head to you, and sprinting off to the end of the field to complete his task.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

hanbin 📝

“hanbin-ah!” you shout, running down the dimly-lit, empty hallway. how far could he have made it in the few minutes since he’d stormed out of the activities lounge without so much as a word.

“hanbin-ah...”

a banging down the hallway to your right seems to signal his location. you turn down it, running until you reach the end and a long hall of public lockers unfolds before you. to your left is a very distraught hanbin, clanging his locker door about as he holds a small book in his hands.

the floor is littered with torn up pieces of paper, that seem to be coming from the book he’s holding.

“FUCK,” he yells, ripping out another page from the book and crumpling it up— tossing it onto the ground, where it lands at your feet.

you bend down and pick it up, carefully unfolding it and reading what’s written:

what the fuck does (y/n) see in junseo hyung-nim? i thought that poem was for me. could (y/n) really choose him over me? is he better than me? i don’t understand. what did i do wrong?

it’s a diary entry— your name, mentioned twice. the confession contained in it sends a chill down your spine. hanbin had posted your poem about junseo sunbaenim out of spite.

out of jealousy?

you pick up another crumpled paper and unfold it, reading:

i just hung up all the copies of the poem around campus. i got the other guys in on it, too. maybe this’ll teach you not to take people for granted. maybe it’ll keep you thinking about me.

hanbin throws his empty journal across the hallway, sitting down on the ground with his back against a locker as he runs a hand through his hair in distress.

you walk over to him cautiously, standing in front of him and waiting until he looks up at you. you hold out the pieces of paper from his journal and drop them on his lap. “so you decided to ruin my life because you couldn’t have me?”

hanbin reads the writing on the crumpled papers, tears suddenly spilling over and streaming down his cheeks. he wipes them away as quickly as they come. his chin dimples up with sadness. it reminds you of something...

you look in his locker, finding his messenger bag and opening the flap. you dig around gently until your hand wraps around it.

you sit down next to hanbin, back against a locker as you place the little, plush hamster in his lap. he stares at it for a long moment before finally picking it up in his hand and giving it a gentle squish. a tear falls onto the hamster’s nose.

“you found this the other day?” he says, rubbing the back of his hand across his cheeks again.

you nod. “he’s cute.”

hanbin smiles. “i was hoping you’d think that.”

“what do you mean?” you ask, a confused pout forming on your lips.

“i was hoping you’d think he was cute,” he says, running his thumb over the hamster’s fur, “when i bought it for you.”

“what?”

“on the class trip to the national library last year,” he continues. “we sat next to each other on the bus and you pulled three plushies out of your bag like it was the most normal thing ever. and you told me all their names and what they wanted to be when they grew up.”

“hanbin-ah...”

“and we took those polaroids of each other outside on the grass. and ate kimbap at the picnic table in the garden. and ran around together finding the weirdest books we could. and then, in the giftshop, they had a bunch of cute plushies themed off of children’s books and...” hanbin rambles wistfully. “and i bought this one for you while you weren’t looking.”

“hanbinnie, i’m so sorry,” you interject truthfully. you see the full picture now and you never had before. “i shouldn’t’ve been so oblivious as to make you feel like i was leading you on, but i was. and i never should’ve told you about that poem in the first place. i’m sorry.”

he blinks back at you before shaking his head adamantly. “it’s— it’s not your fault.”

“but i hurt your feelings,” you assert, meeting his gaze. “and i never wanted to do that. you were my first friend i made at university. actually, you’re the only friend i’ve made at university. how pathetic is that?”

he shakes his head again, brow furrowing sadly. “it’s not. it’s—... it’s my fucking fault that that happened. it’s... it’s all my fault.”

“hanbinnie, it’s—... it’s okay, you—,” you try to alleviate his burden, like the moral person you are.

“no, don’t do that. don’t say it’s okay, because it’s not,” hanbin asserts, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his palm. “i made you share something you didn’t want to. and i betrayed your trust. and i—... fucking—... all because i couldn’t handle my own emotions?”

you chew your cheek nervously. “listen, it’s okay—.”

“you’re the nicest person on the fucking planet if you can sit here and say that’s okay,” he says, a sad laugh escaping him. “i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but... i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to fully express to you how sorry i am.”

you don’t respond, stunned by hanbin’s genuine apology.

“i could try, though, if you want me to,” he blathers on anxiously. “i could write a hundred thousand words worth of apologies and you could rip them all up and make me start again and—.”

“he looks like you,” you interject suddenly.

he frowns. “hm?”

“the hamster,” you clarify, holding out your hand. eyes wide, hanbin places the hamster in your palm. “he looks a lot like you.”

hanbin doesn’t say anything, his eyes trained on the side of your face as you squish the little plush.

“it’s funny, actually,” you hold the hamster up for him to see. “looking at this hamster and trying to be mad at him is a lot like how it feels when i look at you.”

eyes still wide, hanbin’s bottom lip finds its way between his teeth— not sure how to answer to your overwhelming mercy.

“you’re right. that wasn’t okay,” you say as you bring the hamster to your lips, giggling after you give him a little peck. “but this is okay.”

“this?” he repeats.

“doesn’t this feel pretty nice?” you pose, eyes locking with his. “us getting along?”

hanbin nods slowly. “yeah. it does.”

“what do you say we continue this?” you ask with a smile. “indefinitely.”

“i—...” he stutters as a smile grows on his lips as well. “i’d really like that.”

“me too,” you agree, eyes abruptly narrowing. “but it’ll cost you.”

his brow raises, swallowing hard at your words. “absolutely. anything. name your price.”

you hold up the hamster to the side of your face, doing your best to mimic his little expression. “i want him.”

if hanbin’s eyes could turn to cartoon love hearts, they would. but because he’s a human person, his pupils simply dilate. “you—... i—... he’s yours. he was always yours.”

you grin, giving the hamster a hug. “thanks.”

“thank you,” he says, still reeling from your cuteness. “i’ll miss him, but he’s where he belongs now.”

“maybe you can visit him sometimes,” you offer, biting your lip shyly. “you’re clearly his biological father, after all. i’m sure your presence in his life is nothing less than enriching.”

he laughs. “some father i am. i didn’t even manage to give him a name.”

you smile. “he has a name.”

hanbin tilts his head curiously. “he does?”

you nod. “his name is binnie. jr.”

his cheeks turn red at this suggestion. “really? you want to name him after me?”

you don’t answer. instead, you ask softly, “hanbinnie?”

“yeah?” he replies eagerly.

“do you...” you start, finding the confidence to finish your question. “do you still like me?”

hanbin’s breath hitches in his throat. “um...”

“it’s okay if you don’t,” you assure with a sigh. “i just... a year ago, i didn’t even know someone like you would be interested in me. you’re so handsome. and smart. and the soccer team’s star player. i never even considered the possibility that you felt that way about me. but now, i—... i have more confidence. maybe you accidentally gave it to me, but i have it nonetheless.”

he looks at you intently, waiting for you to continue.

“and i think i realized that... i want you to like me,” you confess. “i wanted you to like me the whole time. i just didn’t want to admit it because i was afraid it was too much to ask for. and i—.”

“(y/n),” hanbin interjects with the fondest smile imaginable. “i like you so much i think my chest might explode.”

you can’t stop the grin that spreads across your face. neither can he. hanbin brings his hand to cup your jaw, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours.

“oh and i’m sorry i fucked all your friends right in front of your face,” you say, pulling back momentarily.

hanbin laughs, shrugging it off. “i totally deserved it. and... it was pretty hot.”

“keep kissing me,” you request with a smile.

“don’t have to tell me twice.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

taerae 🎤

after a completely bizarre session of portraits and quotes for the campus newspaper, the boys all awkwardly grab their things and head out the door. as you place your clipboard and pen on the activities director’s desk, you see a familiar backpack shoved behind a chair. you forgot you’d stashed taerae’s bag and phone in here when he didn’t come back for it on friday.

you walk over to it, picking it up off of the floor and slinging it over your shoulder. you shut off the lights, walking down the hallway until you spot your former best friend— sitting alone on the entrance steps to kang hall in the spring night air.

you plop yourself down next to him, placing his bag on the step in front of him. he turns to you, eyes red and watery.

“oh, tae,” you whisper, head falling instinctively to his shoulder.

“why’re you comforting me?” he asks with a sniffle. “you should be punching me in the face or something.”

“would you prefer it?” you joke, trying to get him to smile. “because i can absolutely just—.”

“this is good,” he says with a breathy laugh.

“good,” you affirm, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “i love you.”

“(y/n),” taerae seems to plead. “i can’t—.”

“i love you,” you repeat. “and i miss you so much.”

“i—...” he stumbles verbally, but grabs your hand in his. “i—.”

“when did you lose your virginity?” you ask, tilting your head curiously.

he gulps. “uh... a couple years ago.”

“and you didn’t tell me?” you question, a little hurt that he’d kept this big news a secret from you even when you were still friends. “to who?”

taerae shakes his head anxiously. “it’s not that important.”

“oh, come on,” you urge, squeezing his hand. “i told you i lost mine to sungchan oppa during that pool party at mina’s dad’s house.”

he flinches at this. “i remember.”

“it was that same pool party where you threw up in the pool,” you say with a smirk. “an eventful night for both of us.”

“mhm,” taerae mumbles shortly. he was definitely growing more bothered with each mention of that party.

“and to think, a couple of years later we’d do what we just did,” you muse in an attempt to dig something more out of him. “we’ve come so far from you throwing up in the pool at the thought of kissing me.”

“i never said that!” taerae exclaims with frustration. “you said that. and i just... went with it.”

you shake your head, brow furrowing confusedly. “then why did you throw up?”

“because—... because i was nervous,” he says softly. “i was so nervous to kiss you that i threw up in mina’s dad’s pool and then i was so embarrassed that i couldn’t even open my mouth to deny that i was disgusted by the thought of kissing you.”

you blink at him in shock. “did—... did you have feelings for me?”

after a long moment, he nods. but there’s more tension lingering under the surface. you know there’s more that needs to be said.

“i really liked you,” taerae confesses softly. “i never wanted to weird you out or anything, but i just liked you from the first day i met you. i loved being your friend, but i just couldn’t help it. when you told me at that party that you’d hooked up with sungchan hyung... i just got so jealous. i thought i could be cool about it, but i was drunk and...”

your eyes are wide, clinging onto his every word.

“and i hooked up with someone, too,” he admits with a pained expression. “i thought it might be the only way to make you jealous back, so i—... i—...”

you hold your breath.

“i hooked up with mina!” he exclaims quickly, looking down at his lap in shame.

“YOU WHAT!?” you scream, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look you in the eyes. “that’s not fucking funny!”

“i know it’s not,” he replies despairingly. “i regretted it instantly afterwards. no— while it was happening. i was so disgusted with myself. i hated lying to you, but i just couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. i thought i wouldn’t have to until last year, when hanbin hyung came up to me in the hallway after class.”

your brow furrows at the mention of hanbin’s name.

“he said he knew what i’d done with mina. apparently he had a few friends that went to the party,” he explains sadly. “and that if i didn’t do exactly what he told me to, that he’d tell you what i did and he’d make things even worse for you. i just couldn’t let either of those things happen.”

“how—... how did you even manage to bag mina?” you ask in a daze.

“well, i mean,” taerae grimaces. “it’s mina.”

“she’s a total slut,” you nod, catching on immediately. “more power to her.”

“the most power to her,” taerae agrees quickly.

“why didn’t she tell me?” you wonder.

“oh, that one’s easy,” taerae answers with a shrug. “she said she’d rather die than let anyone know we slept together.”

“that sounds like mina,” you affirm. so the truth was out. it’s hard to wrap your head around everything all at once, but you were definitely relieved that taerae didn’t actually hate you. he was just an idiot.

“i’m so sorry, (y/n),” he apologizes genuinely. “for everything.”

you sigh heavily. “i’m sorry, too.”

taerae’s eyes widen in surprise. “what do you mean? you don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“i’m sorry i bragged to you about losing my virginity. i could’ve been more sensitive with that information,” you reply. “and i’m sorry that i said you threw up in the pool, because you didn’t want to kiss me and never asked you what the truth was. i could’ve been more considerate of my best friend.”

“i love you,” taerae says abruptly. “being without you this year was literally the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

you nod in affirmation. “let’s never do it again.”

“never,” he agrees with a wide, dimpled grin. that smile you missed so much. you watch it fade naturally, replaced by a fond gaze. but you desperately want to see it again.

so you do the only thing that you can.

you kiss him.

he pulls back after a moment, that perfect grin shining back at you. it’s enough to light up the night sky.

“i know i was using the past tense before, but,” taerae says, biting his lip. “i still really like you.”

you smile, pulling him back in to meet your lips again. “prove it.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

group (poly) 🥵

you look around the room, every boy avoiding eye contact with you in an attempt to quell the awkward tension. it feels amazing. exactly how you were hoping it would.

"so, uh," jiwoong starts, scratching the back of his neck. "are we gonna do those interviews now?"

you shrug. "you can just text me a quote, if you want. probably easier actually."

they all agree nonverbally, the uncomfortable haze still lingering in the air.

"you can also text me about when you'll be free again," you add, the boys heads turning rapidly to look at you.

"uh... which one of us?" matthew asks with a frown.

you shrug. “whoever’s down.”

“you—… you wanna do this again?” hao asks, lips parted in shock.

“why not?” you answer honestly. “i had fun. but if you’re not into it, that’s okay too.”

“i’m into it!” hao replies a bit too quickly. “i just meant that… i didn’t know you would be.”

“i guess before last week, someone would’ve had a hard time convincing me that i’d wanna do this once— let alone twice,” you admit with a smile. “but i think i’ve proved i changed.”

“and you’re okay with… changing?” taerae asks, worry in his eyes.

you nod definitively. “yeah. i am.”

“so, after all this, you’ve decided you just wanna fuck all of us whenever you want?” hanbin asks, standing up from the desk he’s sitting on and walking over to you. “you really think you’re hot enough for that?”

you smile at him. “no one’s forcing you to participate.”

hanbin frowns, studying you as you hold eye contact.

“don’t be too upset, hanbinnie,” you say with a pout. “you’re the one who wanted me to fuck your friends in the first place. you just forgot to consider i might end up really liking it.”

he stares at you for another long moment. and then, he smiles. “i guess you’ve won your own game then?”

you smile back. “i guess i have.”

“then i have to pay the price, fair and square. we all do,” hanbin nods with respect— an undeniable warmth in his gaze. “congratulations.”

you look at the other boys around you— excitement reaching their eyes as you grin. were they really all yours now?

“thanks,” you say happily. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

group (revenge) 😈

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you look around the room, every boy avoiding eye contact with you in an attempt to quell the awkward tension. it feels amazing. exactly how you were hoping it would.

"hey, is that camera on?" jiwoong suddenly asks, pointing at the camera you set up by the photo wall to take portraits for the campus activities interviews.

at least, that's why you told them you set it up.

"there's a little red flashing light," hao observes with a frown. "to the left of the lens."

"did—... did you record this?" matthew asks, fear palpable in his eyes as he looks at you.

you hop off the desk you're sitting on, grabbing your shorts and shimmying them on. walking over to the camera, you hit the record button again to stop filming. then you, take the camera off it's tripod and throw it in your bag that's sitting on the ground beside it.

"it was a pleasure doing business with you boys," you say, making your way towards the door.

hanbin stands up, grabbing your shoulder. "what are you gonna do with that?"

you shrug. "nothing."

his brow furrows tensely, not sure whether to relax or not.

"yet," you finish.

"(y/n), please," taerae begs from behind you. "please don't post that."

"i'm not gonna post it," you say, rolling your eyes. "i'm in the video, too, remember?"

the boys look around at each other, not sure what to do.

"but if i have to," you threaten, unlocking the door, "i won't hesitate. could anything be worse than what you've already put me through?"

"wait, (y/n)!" jiwoong calls. "we're—... we're sorry. we're all really sorry for everything."

"i'm sure you are," you reply, opening the door and exiting the activities lounge...

"i'm sure you'll stay sorry for a long time, too."

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