#‘why do you look at me all sticky and warm and kind?’

[cupid-styles]

a helping hand*

in which y/n can't orgasm and harry is a helpful ex-friend with benefits.

word count: 3.3k

content warnings: mentions of depression/mental health and anti-depressants, discussions of reduced libido, smut (phone sex, mentions of sex toys, dirty talk, description of group sex and mmf threesomes)

this one goes out to all the besties on anti-depressants

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

Harry sighs in frustration before crossing his arms over his chest. If he pursed his raspberry lips into a pout, he’d look more like a petulant child than the young adult Y/N’s known for the past few years. With a roll of her eyes, she lifts her glass to her mouth and takes a healthy swig of her coke and rum. She allows herself to scan the interior of the bar — it’s just barely 6 pm on a Wednesday so she’s not surprised that it’s primarily filled with locals and teams of corporate offices decompressing after a long day. 

“I could always make you come when we hooked up and I bet you I could still do it.”

“Christ, Harry, give it a rest,” Y/N replies, narrowing her eyes at the curly haired brunette. “It’s not just with partners, it’s me, too.”

He quirks an eyebrow and settles his elbows on the sticky table. She huffs when she realizes she’s only piqued his attention even more now that she’s revealed another inkling of her… problem. 

“Can you just tell me what’s going on, then? You know, when I texted you for our semiannual catch up, I didn’t think we’d be getting into your sudden inability to orgasm, but—”

“Can you lower your voice?” Y/N hisses with wide eyes. “I didn’t think we would talk about this either but you’re the one who asked if I’m seeing anyone—”

“Yeah, seeing anyone, not coming for anyone—”

“Just shut up!” she mutters, nearly knocking over her almost-finished drink. “If I tell you, you have to drop it.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Harry…”

“As your ex-friend with benefits, I have no duty to keep secrets that aren’t about our bedroom-related rendezvouses.” 

“There hasn’t been a ‘rendezvous’ in five years.”

“There could be.”

She sighs and presses her fingertips to her temples. This is why she and Harry never worked out. They’re total opposites — he has the energy of a rowdy golden retriever and she exudes a calm, monotone nature. (She thinks she’s borderline boring if you ask her, but that’s something she’s been saving for therapy.) 

At parties in college, he was always the one working the room, chatting with everyone while she stood in the corner and clutched her solo cup for dear life. 

He had a million contacts in his phone and people remembered him, even if they knew each other from something as small as working together on a project in a class three semesters ago. 

Meanwhile, Y/N could spend two years straight working in the same office and someone would still ask her when she started working there because she looked “new”.

(Seriously. It happened last month, and she had to rush to the bathroom to cry.)

Despite their opposing personalities, they did work for a while, but only as friends with benefits. To begin with, Y/N never wanted anything more — when they started hooking up, they were nearing their senior year of college, and she didn’t want to be tied down to anyone or anything when making decisions about her future. But secretly, she knew feelings for Harry would inevitably pop up. How could they not? Although he was an annoying ball of energy sometimes, bouncing off the walls of her apartment before they even made it to her bedroom, he was kind. He had a good heart — he still does after all these years, otherwise Y/N would never bother meeting up with him without the intention of hooking up — and he was funny, and he made Y/N feel all warm and gooey inside. He was a good fuck, too, and as much as she wanted to widdle his presence down to being purely physical, she wasn’t strong enough for that. 

She was grateful, albeit heartbroken, when six months after their arrangement began, Harry very sweetly told her he had a crush on a girl in his advanced sculpture class and wanted to go for it. As she swallowed a lump in her throat, she told him that was perfectly fine, that she was glad he told her, and that she hoped things worked out between him and Emily.

(They did. For two and a half years. Y/N had never been so thankful when graduation arrived and she could run as far away as possible from the couple.)

Harry tried his best to keep in touch, even after graduating while he was dating Emily — always commenting on her Instagram posts and responding to her stories, even occasionally texting her to wish her well on her birthday or major holidays. Y/N kept him at an arm’s length for as long as she could. That is, until he moved to her city last year.

The only reason why Y/N had a heads up is because of an Instagram story he posted. In his typical overly excited way, he posted a picture of his dog in his new apartment with one of those tacky, premade location tags. (She’s allowed to think they’re ugly — she’s a graphic designer.) So, it didn’t come as a surprise when a week or two later, a text popped up from an unknown number: Hey Y/N! Not sure if this is still your number or if you still have mine, but it’s Harry :) I just moved to your city and was wondering if we could get together! It would be great to see you.

Thus began the tradition of Harry and Y/N’s semiannual meetups. 

It was an unsaid routine they followed — every six months or so, one of them would text the other for drinks or coffee or lunch. They only ever met up in public and they didn’t talk much outside of their scheduled hangouts, though Harry was much more prone to messaging her stupid memes and, on occasion, a picture of his dog, a husky named Fish. 

Much to Y/N’s dismay, the chemistry between her and Harry was still very much there. It had been apparent from their first meetup last February. It was difficult not to flirt, especially when he brought up their past (she would happily pretend none of it ever happened if it meant Harry Styles never made her blush ever again). The thing is, though, is it was fine as long as nothing ever came of it. 

Until now. 

Because as Y/N sits across from Harry in the worn booth of a dive bar a block away from her apartment, she can’t believe she’s seriously considering letting him back in her bed.

“Can you just tell me what you think the problem is?” Harry asks. He slides his elbow onto the table and presses his knuckles up against his cheek, like they’re best friends giggling over some silly gossip. It makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs.

“It’s a biological issue,” she mutters, “Like I said, nothing you could fix. Even if I wanted you to.”

“Just spit it out, blossom.”

She narrows her eyes, though she finds it difficult to ignore the way her stomach flips at the familiar nickname. “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore.”

“Tell me what the issue is and I won’t call you that,” he replies easily. “C’mon, it’s me. Remember all the times I helped you pee when you were too drunk to sit up straight? We’ve definitely seen each other in more embarrassing situations before.”

Y/N sighs loudly. He has a point — there was a time where Harry knew her better than anyone else in the world. And frankly, she hasn’t talked to anyone about her problem. 

Scooching her body forward, she attempts to close most of the gap between them. Harry leans closer and she rolls her eyes. To an outsider's perspective, they probably looked like they were performing some kind of sketchy drug deal or like little girls swapping secrets at a slumber party.

“Remember how I struggled with, um… getting pretty sad?”

Harry’s eyebrows draw together and he nods. 

“Right, so it got… worse when I moved here. And I needed to find help, so I started seeing a psychiatrist who put me on antidepressants. They’ve helped a ton — I feel better, and the depression that I do feel is a lot less intense.”

“That’s great, Y/N,” he says, and she can tell he means it by the genuine tone to his voice. “What does that have to do with you not orgasming, though?”

She swallows tightly. “Well, my doctor increased my medication over the winter, and one of the side effects is…y’know. Decreased libido and whatnot.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah,” she snorts, leaning back against the cracked leather of the seat. “Oh, shit.”

“And you’ve tried vibrators and stuff?”

“Of course I have, I’m not an idiot.”

“So how long has it been?”

She nibbles on her bottom lip as she thinks. Even with flings that she’s had over the past few months, they all gave up at a certain point. The sex was still fun, but she was just the only one who wasn’t coming.

“Well, I can give them to myself if I… work at it,” she mumbles, folding her hands in her lap. “But with a partner? Probably… six months.”

“Six months?!”

The look on Harry’s face is dramatic and theatrical, as if she just told him she was moving halfway across the world and participating in some kind of 90 Day Fiance situation. 

“Shut. Up.” she says through grit teeth, sending him a harsh look. “I don’t need a reminder of how shitty it is.”

“Who the hell are you letting in your bed?” he demands sharply. 

“It can take me an hour, Harry, I don’t expect every person I sleep with to be that patient.”

“They should be, Y/N.”

With a shake of her head, she glances down at her phone on the table. Everything has always seemed so simple for Harry — he’s one of those people where things just come easily for him, no pun intended. A part of her wishes they never delved into the subject matter. Vulnerability somehow always bit her in the ass and this instance was no exception. 

“I’m gonna get going,” she says, pushing her empty glass to the center of the table. “Thank you for the drink, H. It was good to see you.”

His eyes soften as she begins to scooch her way out of the booth. Quickly, he throws a few bills down on the table and gets up to follow her. 

“Can I walk you out, please?” he asks, swallowing as his stomach brims with nerves. She nods, though he’s unsure if it’s a reluctant response. Silently, they leave the bar together, and he nibbles on his bottom lip as she pushes the front door open. The spring air is a welcomed breeze from the sticky interior of the establishment, and she shifts on her feet as she turns around to face him. She parts her lips as if she’s readying herself to bid him a final goodbye, but he beats her to it. 

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he says as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I just meant— like, you deserve better, is all. Someone who will be patient and care to learn your body.”

Y/N nods slowly. “Right. And you’re that person.”

Her tone teeters on mocking and it sends a harsh hit straight to Harry’s chest. He shrugs.

“If you wanted me to be.”

She doesn’t reply to that, but she doesn’t make a move to leave, either. 

“I’ll think about it,” she finally says, and Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in shock. “My hand cramps up when I’ve been at it for too long. Maybe it’ll be nice to have someone else try.”

He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Just let me know and I’m there.”

. . .

A few days later, when Harry is at a friend’s house, he receives a text from Y/N: Are you free right now?

In all honesty, he’s surprised that she’s — assumingly — taking him up on his offer. Y/N remains to be one of the most stubborn people he’s ever known (one time she spent an entire week trying to put together a desk she’d purchased before asking anyone for help. The only reason why Harry was able to do it for her is because she’d called him over for a “destress fuck” and he finished it while she slept). 

He swipes down on her message, his other hand occupied by some shitty IPA Lizzy’s new boyfriend had bought. He keeps asking Harry if he likes it and he has to lie about tasting the hints of citrus, even though it tastes like every other crappy beer he’s consumed. 

At a friend’s house, he quickly types back, Why? Is your hand cramping?

He can basically feel her rolling her eyes as he bites back a smile, watching as the three dots appear to signal her impending response. 

Yes. I was wondering if you wanted to come over.

He’s unsurprised by the casual invitation on a Friday night at 9:40 p.m. (it seems that, as far as hookups go, Y/N hasn’t changed much since college). Nibbling on his bottom lip, he uses his free hand to type a response. 

I’m sorry, I would if I could. I’m trapped at this “apartment-warming” party for my friend. Apparently people host housewarmings even if they’re just renting a new place.

Y/N immediately types back: As much as I’d love to debate that with you, I’m really just looking for an orgasm. So if you’re busy, I’ll go back to buzzing at my numb clit.

Harry snorts at that before placing his beer on a coaster and excusing himself to the bathroom. Once he’s locked the door, he’s quick to pull up Y/N’s contact and press the pad of his thumb to her number. 

“Hello?”

She sounds confused and frustrated when she answers and Harry smirks at that.

“Hey,” he greets, leaning back against the white porcelain sink. “I’m calling about your orgasm.”

“You’re seriously not trying to have phone sex with me right now.” 

Her tone is as deadpan as it gets, and the monotone nature is enough to make a small bit of insecurity crawl into Harry’s stomach. 

“Well, I was planning on talking you through it. ‘S not really phone sex if only one person’s getting off, I think.”

She lets out a noisy sigh and there’s some rustling on the other side. He waits for her response and is surprised when she agrees. 

“Fine,” she huffs, and he can envision the way her eyebrow raises just slightly when she’s decided to give into something, “Let’s give it a try. Porn is getting boring anyway.”

“What were you watching?”

“Well, when you’ve been trying to come for 40 minutes, you end up in some… odd places,” she says. “I started out with lesbian porn, then found my way into threesomes, and somehow I ended up at double penetration.”

“Ah,” Harry nods, “Sounds like you’re having some sort of craving for group sex, then?” 

A pause. And then: “I guess. I’ve never tried it, I just think it’s hot.”

“What’s hot about it for you?”

He thinks he hears her swallow, but he can’t be completely sure. 

“I just like the idea of pleasing more than one person. I think that’s how I got to double penetration stuff.”

“Oh, I see. You want to be used.”

It’s blunt and it’s to the point, but he’s not wrong — he knows he’s not, because he slept with her for six months straight.

“I guess,” she replies non-committedly, “I guess it’s like… a fantasy of getting two people off and them feeling that way because of me. Through oral or… being inside of me, or whatever.”

“So what’s your threesome fantasy, then?” Harry pushes, though his tone teeters are near carelessness at this point, “Girl/boy? Boy/boy? Maybe it doesn’t matter. Who do you want to be between?”

Y/N exhales shakily, “I’ve never thought about it.” 

“Well, now you are.”

She doesn’t immediately reply, but he knows she responds well to the calloused persona he suddenly obtains. She’s always been this way — submissive and good, always looking to please him intimately. It’s too easy for him to put the pieces together and solve the puzzle.

“I guess I like the idea of being with two guys, but it doesn’t matter much to me.” she eventually decides.

“Okay. And in your deepest fantasies, what are these two men doing to you?”

Another pause, though he thinks he hears a shuttered sigh on the line. He doesn’t mention it — not yet at least.

“Maybe… maybe one’s inside of me and the other one’s in my mouth.”

“And how is he fucking you? Is he on top of you, missionary style, or are you on your hands and knees while he fucks you from behind?”

A breathy whimper departs Y/N’s lips and this time it’s loud enough for both of them to hear. He smirks at the sound of it. 

“I like the idea of him behind me. A-and the other one fucking my mouth.”

Harry hums, almost as if he’s praising her. “Close your eyes and envision it, then. Think about how you’re letting two men take advantage of you and use your body, just so they can get off. One’s fucking into you from behind, spanking your ass and grabbing your hips like you’re just some kind of toy to him. And the other one is thrusting deep into your mouth, making you choke, getting you all drooly for him. You’re nothing but a set of holes for them, honey. Isn’t that sweet?”

On the other line, all Harry hears is a series of shattered moans and low curses. Even though it’s been years, he can imagine the way her muscles are all tensed up, her pussy clenching around a dildo or her fingers. He wishes he would’ve asked so he could envision it, too.

“I-I think I’m gonna cum,” she whimpers out, and Harry palms himself through his trousers at the sound of her high-pitched mewls. 

“There you go, blossom. Atta girl, just let go. ‘S easy, let it go for me,” his voice is a near coo and it makes Y/N’s eyes roll back into her skull. It’s like he knows how easy it is for her brain to ping pong to other far less sexier thoughts — like the dirty plates in the dishwasher or the unfolded laundry in the corner of her bedroom — so he continues crooning through the receiver, his low, soft voice guiding her through every bump and ridge of her impending orgasm. 

When she comes, she comes hard, considering it’s been a solid two weeks since she’s been able to give herself an orgasm. It shoots through her entire body and, even with her eyes shut tight, the fantasy she created still plays through her brain — except now, it’s not two mystery men. Now, it’s just Harry fucking into her, all tan muscles and sweat pearling at his hairline. 

She’s boneless and exhausted when she finishes, her throat dry from the involuntary moans she let go. She only remembers she’s still on the phone with Harry when she hears him clear his throat, followed by a call of her name. 

“Hey, sorry,” she mumbles as her cheeks flush a deep red hue, “T-that was good. Thank you.”

“Yeah? You finished?”

If she had more energy, she would roll her eyes. Of course she finished. The entire neighborhood knows she finished.

“Yeah.” she mutters shortly. “Have a good time at your apartment-warming party.”

Harry huffs a laugh, “Yeah, ‘cos that’s what I’ll be thinking about for the rest of the night.”

She doesn’t have a chance to ask him what he means before he’s bidding her goodbye: “Let me know when you wanna do this again. I’m around this weekend.”

#writing #harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one direction #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles au #one direction #harry's house #hs4 #fineline #harry styles smutty imagine #harry styles smutty fic

[violintrees]

You ever get reminded of a fic so good, and you accidentally spend the evening rereading it and just lie there ranting to yourself over how good it still is?

#I’ll ramble in here #fic is Stadium by hamletmustdie on ao3 #zadr #who is.. I think xenovillian on tumblr? #but yeah I generally dislike prom fics #my own prom was bad but that isn’t why I dislike them #going to prom with/pining for someone you like #is a fucking tornado of emotions #not knowing what comes after highschool #the chaos of having feelings that really feel like they matter #not knowing how much to care about the human rituals #or your object of affection #it’s just AAAAA #and this fic captures that perfectly #(and btw everyone’s experiences are different #prom was very boring or very okay/good for many) #Zim and Dib care so much #and this style of writing makes me feel it in my stomach #‘why do you look at me all sticky and warm and kind?’ #I got the yearning equivalent of the zoommies #please brain let me go draw for art fight ajxjajjzka

[lust4lore]

(finnick + cockwarming pretty please i’ll give you my firstborn child)

anon, i’m in love with you. take all of the forehead kisses. all of them. (btw, call me when that child is born!)

A/N: originally, this was gonna be something where reader and finnick are at a party and it’s kind of public, he’s a little meaner, but i think voyeurism as well as denying his girl anything she wants is a little ooc for him so i chose this instead. i still have the outline of the og, though, so if you’d be interested in reading that and are willing to excuse it lmk!

CW: cockwarming— mind you, fluffy cockwarming, because it’s finn!

MDNI, not proofread i cba 😔🫶

finnick odair would do anything for you. shit, he’s braved hell and back twice just for the chance to catch a glimpse of you again. you’re his world, the love of his life, and the last thing he wants is to see you upset.

which is why, when you entered your shared bedroom with a quivering bottom lip and glistening eyes, he dropped everything immediately.

“hey, hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he had asked gently, brows pinching together as concern started seeping in. he beckoned you over to where he sat with open arms, and you gladly went. he pulled you onto his lap, warm hands cupping your face as he searched your eyes for any indication of what the problem could be. “talk to me,” he murmured, anxiety forming a pit in his stomach when you didn’t give him an immediate response.

it had been a long day. all the noise, all the people, all the feelings had gotten to you, and you just needed finnick. needed to turn off your brain in the way only he could. “jus’ had a busy day, too much going on and-” you sniffed, looking up into those sea green eyes and feeling a distant pang of guilt at the panic that was rising in them. “i need you, finn,”

realization flickered across his features and his lips parted before he pressed them together again, his gaze shifting from worried to conflicted. finnick never found it easy to deny you anything— and this wasn’t even something he wanted to say no to— but he had deadlines to fulfill, things that he couldn’t put off any longer. you knew that, you did, but you really were aching for whatever piece of him you could get.

and so, you end up here, still sat in his lap as he slowly presses into you, a quiet whine falling from your lips at the stretch. your face buries itself into his neck, hands bracing his shoulders. “finn,” your voice comes out strained and desperate, just above a whisper as you sink down onto him. “m’right here, sugar, i got you,” his hands rest on your hips, lightly squeezing them in encouragement. you continue to whimper as you take the rest of him, adjusting to the size. “i know, honey, i know,” he soothes, one of his hands coming up from your hips to rub your back.

a few minutes in, you’re a bit more mollified. your thoughts come to a slow, sticky pace, and suddenly, nothing seems so loud anymore. all that’s left in your head is finnick finnick finnick and the comfortable weight of him inside of you. “this what you needed, pretty girl? feel better?” his voice is low against your ear and you give a small nod, because yes, it’s exactly what you needed, but your words are kind of failing you at the moment.

you stay like that for god knows how long, his arm wrapped around your waist as he continues to work, your forehead resting on his shoulder. eventually, though, you shift a little, and it’s just enough to cause his cock to graze that sweet spot inside of you. his muscles tense underneath you as you tighten around him and he makes a sound in between a sigh and a groan, picking you up as though you weigh nothing. “what’re you doing?” you ask, your voice soft and dazed as he sets you down on the bed, hands slipping underneath your shirt and roaming further up as he starts trailing kisses down your neck. “taking care of my girl,” he tells you, and, well,

you’ll have to start having bad days more often.

#𓇼 indigo writes! #𓇼 blurburburb #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick x reader #the hunger games #finnick odair headcanons #finnick odair smut #finnick imagine #thg finnick

[urhoneycombwitch]

eddie in the middle of Steve and reader sandwich

I need that boy to get pampered, loved on, and fucked until he's absolutely seeing stars

he's got big Stevie behind him in his hole and reader under him on his dick and there's so many hands and so many mouths and so much praise and there's just nowhere for him to go because when he pulls back, he's only pushing Steve in deeper and if he leans forward, he's sliding deep into reader and it's so overwhelmingly delicious that his head gets all fuzzy like when he smokes but he's perfectly sober

anon when I tell u this has been living in my mind rent-free for days on end...... have a blurb as a treat

+18 mdni

he's lost in it, you can tell.

Eddie gets this glassy, blissed-out look sometimes during sex- most often spotted when you and Steve team up to give Eddie your collective focus.

as luck, practice, and stamina would have it, you and Steve make a stellar team.

Eddie can't do much more than brace his arms against the mattress, the sharp snap of Steve's hips rocking them both forward as Eddie pants into your mouth.

"f-fuck, Steve, fuck me-" his voice is wrecked, partly from the strain of tamping down his orgasm, partly from the cock that was down his throat earlier.

"what do you think I'm doing," Steve quips, driving his hips forward again, golden torso on display from the little you can see around Eddie's shoulder. Steve catches your gaze and winks, cheekily, even through the haze of flush-pink crawling up his neck (a sure sign of his impending release).

Eddie's forearms frame your head, his nose nudging yours with the close proximity. you can hear every little moan that leaves his kiss-bitten lips, see every minute detail of his facial expressions as they shift and change.

it's why you and Steve make such a good team, when you're like this- Steve relies on you and sound alone to relay Eddie's reactions, and in turn, makes you both feel really good.

maybe, this time, a bit too good; Eddie's making these keening noises like he's been punched- not an unusual occurrence on its own, but his eyes are squeezed shut so tight under his dark brows that it kind of worries you.

"hey-" in a room of slick noises and jagged gasps, your voice is a soft, honeyed thing, and Eddie's eyes pop open- half-lidded but you'll take it- as you slide your hands up his sides to cradle his face. "you okay? want me to tell big mean Stevie to take it easy on you?"

the moment you'd spoken Steve had stilled his movements, loosening his grip on the pale, lithe hips in front of him to stroke a soft palm down Eddie's back instead. he scoffs above you both now at that comment, muttering something about Eddie liking it big and mean.

you ignore Steve for the time being, pretending like it's just you and Eddie, pushing his sweaty bangs off his forehead to give him some relief from the heat that seemed to roil off all of you. "take a deep breath for me, baby. y'wanna stop?"

Eddie obeys, drawing in a shuddering breath before pressing his sticky forehead to your bare collarbone, shaking his head against you as garbled words spill out- "no, please, no, wanna keep going, gonna be so good for you, please, honey..."

"sounds pretty when he begs," Steve comments, the tautness in his frame and voice betraying his feigned casualness.

you shoot him a look, one hand threaded in Eddie's hair as he muffles his whines into your skin- a look that means play nice or else. Steve heaves a dramatic sigh before leaning to cover Eddie's upper shoulders in kisses.

"c'mon, Eds," he murmurs, teeth snagging behind the shell of Eddie's ear, voice low and coaxing, "gotta show our girl a good time, right?"

you feel the effect Steve has on the dark-haired boy, Eddie's cock buried deep within you kicking up, which makes you moan, which in turn makes Eddie moan and clench around Steve...

there's a moment of stilted resettling; Steve slips a warm hand under your knee to push your leg up and out, giving you all a bit more breathing room, while Eddie pushes his upper half up again on shaky arms.

Steve eases himself forward, tongue poking out in concentration, grinning victorious when this new angle pulls a low groan from Eddie.

you're worried he's going to zone out again, but one of his hands leaves the mattress to snake between your bodies, thumb catching at your aching clit.

it's your turn to close your eyes, a mounting wave of pleasure thrumming between your legs; distantly, you hear Steve chuckle and instruct Eddie to do it again.

he obeys, like he always does- though this time when his thumb circles that bundle of nerves, he sucks your nipple into his mouth in a tandem move that has your back arching off the bed.

"jesus- fuck- fucking... don't stop, Eds, please..."

and in a tone far too smug for someone with a dick up his ass, Eddie releases your breast with a wet pop to tease, "now who's begging?"

#lu’s anons #e.m. thots from lu #s.h. thots from lu #steddie thots from lu #steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie x reader #steve harrington x eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x reader #+18 mdni #mdni

[pyramid-of-starrs]

After care with Ateez ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Different styles of aftercare that I think the members would do.

This was just something cute I wrote since it's the day after valentines and Ateez is currently on vaction :P

Genre: Fluff, Suggestive

Warning: Mentions of sex and oral sex

Minors DNI

Hongjoong:

His roommates, Jongho and Wooyoung decided to go back home for their holiday so You and Hongjoong enjoyed some much-needed alone time. Cuddling on the couch and watching movies that eventually turned to making out then him pinning your legs to the arm of the couch, completely disregarding Wooyoungs nagging about no sex in the common areas. After a long overdue session Hongjoong is the water and a towel kind of guy. He gets up still wearing his sweatshirt and tucking his softened length back into his boxers then grabs you some water from the back of the fridge like you like. Then head to the bathroom to run hot water on a towel to give you (hot water so it’ll be warm when he gives it too you). Once he hands you the water you spread your legs and he immediately starts to clean the mess he made. After cleaning you up he wants to get back to the movie so you agree even though not even 5 minutes later he is fast asleep laying on your lap. That means no movie for you until he wakes back up and repeats the cycle, he's lucky he's cute

Seonghwa:

Seonghwa was in desperate need of some time away for the rest of his group. He loved his members, but he needed time, since his vacation period was here you invited him over to your place so he can get away for a few days. He, of course, thanks you the best way he knows how, with that marvelous long tongue he was gifted with. Slurping all your juices until you literally cover the entire bottom half of his face in your slick. Then you decided you needed more and went 2 rounds. You both were sticky from the love making and you were ready to go to bed but Seonghwa just can’t do messes, he'll go insane. He immediately headed to the bathroom to run a bath for you two, no shower because he knew your legs would be tired. Despite your groaning to be left alone he would pick you up and carry you over to the bathtub, easing you into the soothing warm water. Even though you were tired you had to admit this felt good. He helps bathe you, then shower you off, he wouldn’t try to fuck you again unless you wanted, just cover you in kisses and tell you you did so good for him.

Yunho:

You both were cuddling on his bed watching TikTok’s together, he leans over to show you one then a text from Yeosang popped up. Him saying that he was leaving to visit his friend and would be back in a few days so don’t wait up. Yunho gave you a very specific look and you knew what that meant, kissing leading to him drilling you from the back with his larger than average dick. He knows he’s a big guy with a big package so most the time he knew you wouldn’t be capable of moving much afterward. So his aftercare came in the form of him massaging your sore thighs and limbs. He likes to see you smiling afterward so he would make little jokes and tease you about the faces you would make during sex.

"Your face is so cute when you ask me why I'm fucking you like that." You both laugh as you playfully hit him. You just lie there making jokes and enjoying the massage from your human golden retriever.

Yeosang:

He decieded to take you on vacation with him since you both needed a some time with each other alone. Warm weather, nice beaches, good food and no fans or press bothering you on a small secluded island, it was amazing, you had to thank him. As soon as you made it back to the rented cabin you drug him back to huge master bedroom to show him just how grateful you are. In the end though he ended up flipping you like a pancake and reminding you just how strong he is. When you were done you were completely drained, covered in sweat and defeated. He came back from the kitchen with a bottle of water and you immediately reached for it but he told you to hold on. You watched him in confusion as he pulled a drink powder from his bag and put some in the bottle. He shook it up and you watched the water turn blue then he handed it to you to drink.

"That will replinish your electrolytes." He said with such a cute smile, then walked back to his bag to get a bottle of vitamins and you started to drink your water. "Here stick your tongue out." You obeyed and he placed two pills on your tongue. "That's B12, you got a charley horse when I bent your leg to far back so that will help, I'll buy you more when we get home, I told you to start taking your vitamins!" He said while starting to stretch your legs out to relieve the tension. He would talk to you about stretching and eating more fruit and blah blah but you wouldn't have it any other way.

San:

San's parents loooove you so they tell him to not even bother coming home during the break if you aren't with him, so you agree to come with. You loved the girl time you got with San's mom, his older sister and his younger sister, Byeol the cat, anyways. You and him arrived a day early and San's parents aren't back from their day trip till tomorrow, so he decided to take you to all his favorite spots around town then he took you out to dinner. Once you're back at his parents you do your normal nightly routine, then head to bed in his childhood bedroom. You tease him after you find an old swimsuit magazine in his room and he turns red and tries to wrestle it from you, leading to him pinning you down. He pecks you on your lips once he's got you down and it went downhill from there. Sure there is a small ting of guilt for doing this at his parents' house in the back of your mind, but you couldn't really focus with San pounding into you. After a nice and long session, you like to just lay back and relax meanwhile San wants to live in your skin. He would cuddle into your chest and wrap his arms around your waist, you scratch his scalp like he's a cat while he draws circles on your thighs. San's aftercare is alot of affection and love bombing.

"I love you."

Kiss on your stomach.

"You're so beautiful."

Kiss on your neck.

"You're the only one for me."

Kiss on your lips.

Mingi:

Now that Mingi finally had some alone time in his apartment with Seonghwa and San gone he decided to stay home and finally get some work done. You didn't want to get in the way but after a few days you surprised him with some lunch. After you ate, you were going to leave but he insisted that you stay and listen to the song he's been working on, you mentioned not wanting to be a bother and he let you know you're more like a muse. You headed to his room where his equipment is set up and sat on his bed to watch him continue to work. For some reason watching Mingi work on his music was so sexy, seeing the effort and passion he put in made you feel hot. Before you could think more about it, he invited you into his lap to listen with him, not even 5 minutes into sitting and listening the sexual tension became so thick you both couldn't resist anymore. Mingi dropped you on the bed to show you he was feeling the same way you were. You wanted to really show him how much you appreciated his hard work flipping on top of him and letting him feel every inch of you. After taking up a good chunk of his time you decided to try to get dressed to let him get back to work, but Mingi likes to spend quality time as after care.

"Woah where are you going?" He asked.

"Oh, I'm going home so that you can get back to work."

"What? No come back here so we can finally get caught up on jjk."

"I told you to finish without me."

"Why would I do that? Just come cuddle me so we can watch."

Wooyoung:

You and Woo went on a nice trip in the mountains, beautiful views and blue waters. He brought his camera to record for his fans and take pictures, the camera stayed in his hand the whole trip. Even when it probably shouldn't have. He was recording every inch of you when you two got back to the bedroom, making sure to get the nice angles of your body while ravishing you in different positions. When you were finally done you took the camera from him, you had to admit curiosity took over and you decided to watch the whole thing in awe. Is that really how you sound? When did you get that flexible? Thank God you shaved. While you were distracted watching the tape you two just made Wooyoung walked back in the room with juice pouches and a plate with two hot grilled cheeses, cut diagonally of course.

"Stop being a perv and eat." he hands you one of the juice pouches as he gets back under the covers with you and places the plate on the bed. You gladly enjoy the dinner and a movie and Wooyoung just loves watching you eat and enjoy something he made, both the video and the food, grilled cheese or not food is good aftercare.

Jongho:

Jongho invited you to a ski resort with his other friends, even though you didn't know a thing about skiing or snowboarding. You liked seeing him happy and active after his injury. After a long day of falling on your ass you decided that was enough torture and headed back to the suite first, letting Jongho spend more time with his friends. You took a hot bath and laid in bed to enjoy the soft sheets, falling into sleep without noticing. A few hours later you could feel the bed dip and Jongho's warm embrace, you asked him if he enjoyed his time in the snow and he said yes and thanked you for coming, giving you a nice kiss. It had been quite some time since you and Jongho went all the way, always scared of hurting him but you couldn't let the good mood go to waste and made the first move to climb on top of him. You two take a shower when your done and Jongho doesn't like to show it, but he too is very affectionate after. He holds your hang in the shower and puts you in a full-on bear hug when you're back in the bed cuddling. It's not just during night either, when it's morning and time to meet with your friends for breakfast he won't let you go.

"We have to get ready Jongho or we will be late."

"We'll get room service." He groans.

#ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atz smut #writenbypyramidofstars #san smut #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa smut #ateez x reader #hongjoong smut #ateez fluff #atz fluff #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #hongjoong fanfic #yunho fanfic #san fanfic #mingi fanfic #wooyoung fanfic #jongho fanfic #kim hongjoong smut #park seonghwa smut #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #yeosang fanfic #yeosang smut #kang yeosang smut #choi san smut #mingi smut #song mingi smut

[dearharriet]

American Honey; Steve Harrington ⛱️

summary: it’s summer, and you’re in love with your boyfriend, steve.

word count: 2K

warnings: implied fem!r, drinking, lots of pet names (honey, baby, pretty, beautiful), lord of the rings references (+ fellowship spoilers!!), tickling, suggestive language

authors note: rly missing summer after writing this one 😭 also I made a mental yarn map between st and lotr while writing this that i can’t unmake I fear

Steve Harrington is an American Treasure.

Fresh out of the pool, he strides toward you, a limber hand reaching out for the beer he entrusted you with. It made you feel special, and Steve certainly entertained the notion. He’s always calling you sweet things—baby, pretty, beautiful, or your favorite—

“Honey.” His shining body is enveloped in shade as he steps under the umbrella you’re using.

He’s an American treasure. Patriotic the way that Colonel Sanders or Bruce Springsteen are. Spangled with freckles and moles like stars, stripes of hot skin on display. Red-shouldered from the sun, blue-lipped from a rocket ice pop, but his teeth remain pearly white.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his warm fingers dampening yours as you hand the can off to him.

“‘Course,” you reply, breathless.

“You sure you won’t swim with me?”

You liked that. He never pretended he had the interest of the whole group in mind. Steve wanted you all for himself, and he wasn’t shy about it.

Smiling up at him, you shake your head.

“I don’t wanna get burnt,” you say. “And anyways, who’s gonna look after your drink if I get in?”

Steve steps closer to pet your hair. It’s a little awkward with his hands still being wet, but you accept it nonetheless.

“Lucky for you, I don’t really care about the drink. I only asked you to hold it ‘cause you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

A smile creeps onto your face, which has turned red—sunblock be damned.

That’s another thing you like about Steve. He’s not really coaxing you into the pool. He knows you burn easy, and further, he’s trying his hardest not to touch your face. He’d watched you meticulously rub sunscreen over it just thirty minutes ago, and he’s sweet enough to remember now.

Worst of all, he knows your anxiety about burning stretches beyond just you, so he ordered the kids to sunscreen up just to put you at ease. It has you thinking undeniably fond, hungry, and binding things about him.

Steve is none the wiser, setting his beer down and rubbing a pruny palm down his chest.

“Could you get my shoulders again, babe? Think the chlorine washed it all off.”

You both know damn well it didn’t, but neither complains as Steve perches himself on the edge of your lounger and you rub sunblock into his broad shoulders.

It’s hard not to love everything about him. Not that you’re trying to stop, but you haven’t admitted to it yet, so maybe you are. Everything is terribly simple and domestic with Steve, easily imaginable as a forever kind of thing, and you’re desperately trying not to jump the gun.

What’s stuck with you time and again—like now—is your contentment in committing unselfish acts, as long as Steve is happy. Everything you do for him is sublimely fulfilling, and you can’t help but imagine that he thinks the same about you. Why else would he happily swim alone and bake away in layers of sunblock, if not because you’re happy first?

Feeling intimidated by all of the commotion around, you amalgamate all of these big feelings into a subdued kiss on Steve’s sticky shoulder. Your lips come away tangy with sunblock, but it’s worth it.

Taking it as a sign that you’re done, Steve turns around and gives you exactly what you want, leaning over your bare legs to kiss your waiting mouth. You think it’s a thank-you kiss, but then he’s leaning in for another, and another, his hand holding steady to your ankle.

When he pulls away he’s like a concentrated UV beam. His shoulder is hot where you draw shapes into it.

“Y’still having fun? We could go inside.”

Your legs press together.

“I know why you want to go inside,” you tease, poking his cheek, “and it’s going to have to wait.”

“Who says,” he challenges, pouting, “s’my house.”

Your eyes leave his face to watch the action in the pool. The kids are reenacting a Tolkien-related battle very loudly and dramatically, with Eddie as Aragorn.

“Everyone is here,” you remind him, nodding at the pool just as Will flays an imaginary Orc. Steve doesn’t even glance behind himself.

“So?” He mumbles, kissing your bottom lip. “I’ll tell them to leave.”

He’s so hard to resist like this, all gushy and lovesick. You push your fingers into the hair at his neck to pull him away and he hums happily.

“You’re terrible,” you chide, but you’re smiling, anyhow.

“Is it a crime to love your girlfriend?” A shock zips through you, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice what he's admitted.

“Steve!” Lucas—who is using his recent growth spurt to play Legolas—calls over, saving you from responding.

“Stop sucking face and get over here! It’s time for you to die.”

“Uh-oh,” you laugh, patting Steve on the back. “Sounds serious.”

“How come they always make me play Boring-mir,” he complains, turning back to you. He doesn’t seem very motivated to get up at all, practically lazing beside your legs despite the gang of nerds waiting on him.

“He’s not so bad, from what I’ve read,” you argue, glancing at the closed book by your side. “Though I think they should let you take a crack at Aragorn.”

Grinning, Steve stretches up to kiss you.

“Honey, I think you’re the only one who believes in me,” he whispers sarcastically, and then presses in again.

“Steve!”The kids all throw their hands up. Eddie continues to swing a pool noodle like a sword.

“Coming!” Steve gives you the kiss they interrupted, though it's missing the sensuality it began with. “Jesus, you guys, you see what I’m leaving behind?” Steve gestures to you, and you swat at his arm.

“Steve, stop.”

“No! It’s an impossible task,” he declares, arms out, loud enough so the kids can still hear him. Then, quieter, “you’re too damn gorgeous, gorgeous.”

“Resist temptation, brother,” Eddie calls. “The power of the ring cannot be wielded!”

Steve waves him off as he gives you one final, lingering kiss. Then he's up, trekking back into the sun.

“Don’t think you’ll kill me so easily this time, brats. I’m fighting for Mordor!”

“You’re fighting for Gondor, thick head,” Dustin snips, but screeches when Steve tackles him.

Smiling from your shady oasis, you leave your book forgotten at your side. Steve puts on a good show, taking imaginary hits for Merry-Erica and Pip-Dustin, cutting off forgotten lines with groans and tears.

You shake your head ruefully as the kids cheer and applaud his passing, not sure they understand the sacrifice made. Steve just smiles and bows, and you think maybe he doesn’t, either.

When he finally slumps down next to you again—dripping and warm and happy to be discharged—you curl into him and throw your legs between his.

“Tired?” You lean your head against the springy elastic slats and look at him softly. He nods and pulls you closer, his free hand and his thigh working together to open a new can of beer. He takes a swig and hands it to you.

“I don’t know how they can keep going. I feel like I need an IV.”

You laugh around the rim of the can.

“Maybe I can get you a glass of water, then, and keep this to myself.” You swirl the heavy can in front of him. Steve shakes his head.

“You wouldn’t dare. Beer is, like, basically water, I’m pretty sure.” You raise a skeptical brow, but hand it back to him. “It is! It’s sterile, baby.”

“I love it when you talk sexy.”

Steve throws his head back laughing, nearly dumping the can into both of your laps. You never take your eyes off of him, chest light with the high of encouraging a sound so sweet.

“Where did you even hear that?” You trace his collarbone as you ask, and then his adams apple. Steve’s eyes are still squeezed shut as he attempts to talk through his giggling.

“E—hedd—d-iehee.”

Surely it wasn’t that funny, you think, watching him go red in the face. He’s working himself up more than anything, now. You don’t care. You add fuel to the fire, pinching under his ribs to watch him squirm and howl.

Steve practically throws the can onto the ground, writhing away from your menacing fingers.

“Baby—stop!” You’re laughing with him now, infected by his hiccuping voice. “Honey—honey, please——time-out, time-out!”

You stop, and he snags your hand to hold it away from him. Panting, Steve twists around to pin you on the chair, his free hand creeping towards your bare side.

“Payback…,” he whispers threateningly.

“No…Steve—“It’s too late, Steve’s hands are already working into your sides cruelly, and his mouth is blowing raspberries into your neck. You kick your feet wildly, pushing at his shoulder with your connected hands.

At your shrieking, everyone looks over, faces forming into a hash of reactions. Surprisingly—or unsurprisingly—no one intervenes. The boys boo at you, but it’s only as long-lived as the tickling itself.

“Sto-ho-ho-hoppp—“ you plead, and Steve yields, a satisfied smile on his face.

When you finally relax back into the chair again, chest rising and falling rapidly, Steve takes your hand into his and holds it over his torso.

“Hate you,” he puffs out, and then picks up the beer that started it all.

“Hmph,” you complain, and hold your hand out until he passes it over.

“I love you.”

You’re aiming for casual, but you miss the mark obscenely. It sticks in your throat and you end up saying every letter.

Steve is eerily silent, watching as you take a nervous gulp of PBR. When you try to pass it back, his receiving hand floats up to your face to wipe over your bottom lip instead.

“What was that?” It’s not a question so much as an encouragement, a request. You can’t even look him in the eyes, curling into his shoulder shamefully.

“Please don’t laugh,” you whine, mortified. How had he made it look so easy?

Steve snakes an arm behind you and rubs your back comfortingly.

“‘M’not, honey. Just wanna make sure I heard you right.”

“You heard me,” you confirm grumpily.

He hums a warm laugh.

Smushing your face into his bicep, you laugh, too. Like magic, the ease flows through your body again, as if it never left. Like the water in the pool, your conversations always slip and slide from childish to heart-pounding and back again. So far, the scariest parts of being with Steve have been the anxieties you invented along the way, and he’s never been unprepared for them.

Propping your chin on his peck, you cuddle closer to him, the warm day slipping into evening chill. Steve waits, patient as a Saint, fiddling with your hair and your top and your mind.

“You knew, didn’t you,” you whisper, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. The near-empty can is still wedged between your bodies, cool against your ribs.

“Sure,” Steve admits. “But thinking it and saying it are different things.”

“True.” You swallow. “Were you waiting on me?”

“Mm, I guess.” He shrugs. “I know it doesn’t change anything if you don’t, but I think I wanted to hear you say it back. Yknow, when I told you.”

Nodding, you kiss the closest patch of skin you can find. Steve continues.

“And then I realized I’d never know if you’d say it back, so I thought I’d wait for you to say it first, which is dumb—“

“S’not dumb,” you assure him, “that’s what I was doing, too.”

Locking eyes, you both peel into laughter at the same time.

“That’s why it’s dumb,” Steve emphasizes. You crawl closer still, giving him the can to put down so you can close the last gap between your bodies. Steve sighs as your nose presses into his neck. “What am I gonna do with you, honey?”

“Terrible, awful, horrible things, I hope.”

You can feel him smiling, sense it.

“Nuh-uh, we’re in love now. Only love-making from here on out.”

You look out towards the pool, at the kids drying off and getting hungry.

You could hardly wait.

+

thank you for reading! 🦢

masterlist

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x reader fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff

[another-lost-mc]

a new dating sim catches your eye and asmo is absolutely 100% not jealous at all.

a date with death | asmodeus x gn!reader

cw: sfw (slightly suggestive towards the end). pet names (asmo calls reader darling, sunshine). vague spoilers for parts of the game (up to day five). silly fluff and jealousy over 2d characters.

word count: 1.2k words

a/n: I really like this game (a date with death) btw, I definitely recommend it.

"I tried that new game you've been playing."

Asmo's comment catches you off-guard and your eyes slowly blink open. You were on the verge of sleep, warm and content with his chest pressed against your back and his arm draped loosely over your waist. The words are muffled slightly against your shoulder, his lips leaving a sticky trail from the hydrating mask he smoothed over them as part of his nightly skincare routine.

You've been playing a new dating sim lately. You knew Asmo peered at the monitor over your shoulder to see what you were up to, but he didn't seem all that interested. He didn't give any indication that he wanted to play it himself, either.

It's not the first romance-based game you've played in the Devildom and he never cared before. He thinks it's cute when you find a character that appeals to you. Sometimes he watches you play through the stories, or he'll listen with a smile while you talk about the game later.

When you offered to play other games with him in the past, he insisted that was Levi's area of expertise. That didn't prevent him from finding his own ways to enjoy your hobby with you though. He preferred to indulge you with a little bit of roleplay instead: parading around his room dressed like your favourite characters, imitating their speech patterns and mannerisms to sweep you off your feet, and seducing you as if they had come to life.

(Later, he seduced you properly as himself because no one can ever love you as much as he does).

But he knew right away that this particular game was different. You giggled at your desk while you tapped away at your computer. It made you smile in a soft and charming sort of way. It irked him that some pictures and words on a screen drew that sort of reaction from you the same way he did.

You lean back and glance at him over your shoulder. His expression is hard to read in the dark, but you can feel the heavy weight of his stare on your face. "I didn't know you wanted to play it. You should've told me! Did you like it?"

"Not at all," he declares firmly, and you can't help but chuckle at his sharp response.

"Really? Why not?"

"I'm so glad you asked, darling," he says as he turns over and sits up suddenly. He flips on the lamp beside him, and he rubs the back of his hand against your cheek in apology when you wince as light illuminates his room. He plucks something off the bedside table and waves it in your direction with a flourish. "I made a list!"

You give him a skeptical look as you roll over to give him your full attention, and he clears his throat and taps the top of the page. "My first complaint is the ridiculous title: I Made a Bet and Have to Survive the Next Seven Days Without Falling in Love With a Babygirl Reaper Who Wants My Soul! Seriously? The title alone should warn you how terrible it's going to be."

"That's not what it's called in the human world," you explain with a shrug. "I don't understand why they changed it here, it's a little bit silly."

He tsks under his breath. "Silly indeed. Where do I even begin with this so-called love interest? It's almost like the creators have never met a real reaper before. I can assure you most of them aren't as nice or cute as they make him out to be." The look he shoots you next is oddly serious, and it sends a chill up your spine as his words sink in. "I recommend not getting too close to their kind. Thirteen seems docile enough, but I prefer your body and soul to remain in one piece."

You're not sure how to begin to respond to that little speech, but he pokes the paper with his finger and continues reading his list of "glaring issues" with the game. The complaints get more ridiculous and obscure, and it's only when he gets to the bottom of the page that the reason for his sour mood dawns on you.

"...and when I thought it couldn't get any worse, he calls you 'sunshine.' He has some nerve - that's what I call you. Remember when Mammon thought it would be funny to call you his sunshine too?" A dangerous gleam twinkles in his eyes before it disappears just as quickly. "At least he learned not to do that again," he murmurs under his breath.

You shuffle over on your knees and swing your leg over his thighs so you can sit in his lap. "Do you have any other complaints on that little list of yours?" you ask him with a teasing smile.

He huffs in frustration and his frown is adorable - of course he has one more grievance to share. "That stupid reaper doesn't even know your favourite flower. Tomorrow I'm going to buy you the biggest and most beautiful bouquet you've ever seen."

He finally drops the paper but neither of you spare it a second glance as it falls over the side of the bed and flutters to the floor. He wraps his arms around you and squeezes your waist gently, slumping his head against your chest with a drawn-out sigh. "I don't see what you like about him."

"Oh, Asmo." You run your hands gently through his hair as you hide your smile against the crown of his head. "Are you telling me there's a video game character you're actually jealous of?"

"Of course not," he mumbles into your collarbone, mouthing softly at the skin with little flicks of his tongue but it's not quite enough to distract you. "I wanted to see what all the hype was about." His teeth graze the bottom of your throat and you swallow down a quiet moan. "I found it extremely disappointing, by the way."

You cradle his jaw gently and tilt his head up so you can kiss the corner of his mouth. "You're so cute when you pout," you coo softly, just to watch how his cheeks turn pink. "I hope you know that he could pop into existence and appear outside your window right now, and I still wouldn't be interested in him. He's not you."

The words seem to soothe him a bit if the purring in his chest is anything to go by. You kiss the tip of his nose and let out a quiet squeak when he grasps the back of your neck and pulls you down so he can kiss you.

Repeatedly.

"You're right, darling." Kiss. "He's completely irrelevant," kiss "and I've already forgotten what his name is."

The world tilts suddenly as Asmo flips you onto your back and braces his weight on his hands. You giggle when he leans down and noses along your jaw. One of his hands slowly glides down your chest and tugs at the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and tossing it aside without a second thought.

"Let's see if I can make you forget his name too, hmm?"

read more: asmodeus masterlist | obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x reader #obey me x reader #gn!reader #x reader

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Extracurriculars (S.R.)

Summary: Reader saves her TA from a frathouse.

Request: gradstudent!Spencer getting dragged to a frat party and hooking up with a girl in her undergrad (someone he's been interested in) A/N: Who wouldn’t want to deflower sweet Spencer? Characters are both around 21. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Virgin!Spencer, frat house, college party, alcohol, drunken sexual activity, heavy petting, kissing, making out, loss of virginity (male) penetrative sex, protected sex (condom), TA/Student relationship Word Count: 5k

MASTERLIST

When I was younger, my mother taught me a few key lessons about growing up. She had to teach me those things because, while they seemed to come naturally to other kids, they never came to me.

It seemed fundamentally unfair that I could do the quadratic formula before I could tie my shoes. Of course, with that, I could just insist I preferred Velcro. My inability to recognize the socially acceptable way to care for my body, or even recognize the signals it was sending to me, was a little harder to explain. It was even harder to calibrate.

By the time I reached college, I became obsessed with cleanliness to an unhealthy degree. I would avoid any situations where I could find myself fixated on dirt beneath my fingernails or anything that could be even tangentially described as ‘sticky.’

I was petrified of being perceived as anything but pure. I had been that way for long enough that it had basically become my defining character trait.

And then, on one very lonely and poorly planned night in grad school, I decided to challenge the idea that I could only be one thing.

That night, I went to a frat house.

Between the pulsing speakers that measured up to my hips and the remnants of discarded beer bottles, I realized that I had made a number of miscalculations—the kind that my mother had most certainly not prepared me for.

“Come on, man, live a little!” the student beside me shouted over impossibly loud music.

I hadn’t the slightest clue what he was asking me to do, but I could tell from the taunt that my answer would be the same regardless:

“N-No thanks.”

I looked down at the glass bottle still dripping beer from its lip. My stomach churned at the sight. I was so distracted by the thought of spit coating the finish that I had failed to connect the dots to realize that the group was planning to play the aptly named game ‘spin the bottle.’

That was, until the older but somehow less mature man to my side jeered, “Why not? Have you never kissed a girl before?”

My cheeks burned with some mixture of embarrassment and rage. I’d hoped that they would confuse it for drunkenness, if they’d thought about it at all.

I wanted to open my mouth to defend my decision without sounding pathetic, but my lips stayed tightly shut.

Then, just a second before the pause became awkward, a second voice chimed in.

“Piss off, idiot.”

I heard her right before I felt her. Her arm slung around my neck brought with it the comforting scent of jasmine and vanilla. Her heated skin somehow stayed warm but never sticky, and my body quickly corrected its instinct to move closer to her.

She’s my student, I reminded myself.

My favorite student, though.

Although the feeling was shared by the man she was speaking to, he wasn’t so clear about it. He seemed almost sarcastic when he shouted, “Whoa! Careful there (y/n), you might make me think you like me.”

By contrast, she was outright in her apathy when she droned, “No one likes you.”

“Ouch,” he replied with a hand clutching his chest, “You wound me.”

I’d half expected her to respond to him in kind. My mind ran a million confusing calculations to try to determine whether this was just harmless flirting or actual annoyance. All I knew for certain was that my chest burned with jealousy that dissipated within a second of her speaking again.

“Hey cutie, which of these jackasses brought you here?” she asked so sweetly I could taste sugar on my tongue as I tried to answer.

“Huh? Oh, u-uh. No… jackasses.”

Smooth as the cheap liquor we’re drinking.

“Yeah, right,” she chuckled in disbelief before explaining, “That’s all that’s here besides you.”

… Besides me?

“You wanna leave?”

My heart stopped at the mere thought. For a moment, I convinced myself that I had fantasized the question. Perhaps someone had slipped something into my drink that had turned me into a blubbering fool. Perhaps it was something more nefarious.

She wouldn’t.

Wouldn’t what?

“What?” I asked.

Before she could clarify, the now very unwelcome third presence chimed in, “He just got here! Let him stay.”

I watched as she bristled in response. Her fingernails dug slightly into my shoulder and she pulled me closer.

It must have been instinct. There was no way she could have meant it on purpose.

It felt nice, though, to be closer to her.

“I also just got here, and yet, I want to leave,” she sneered.

When he made a motion to touch her shoulder the same way she’d been touching mine, she jumped back with a stern warning.

“Touch me and lose at least one testicle.”

He put his hands up in surrender. She scoffed. Her hand dropped from my shoulder, but I never had time to miss her. She took my hand so quickly that I didn’t have time to think about my response. So, I held hers back.

My heart had finally made up its mind before she spoke.

“Come on, sweetheart. We’re leaving,” she ordered.

I followed.

“W-Where are we going?”

She shrugged.

“I don’t know. Somewhere else.”

She turned to look at me with the utmost skepticism, or, dare I say it, fascination with what she found.

“You have somewhere to be?” she asked.

“Um… no?”

I prayed it had been the right answer.

It was.

“Wanna come back to my place?” she offered with a smile, “It’s not far from here.”

She’d said it so casually that I couldn’t help but feel I’d missed something. Surely, she couldn’t be offering the normal incidental activities typically involved with accompanying someone ‘back to their place.’

I had been so certain of it that I’d even possessed the courage to ask.

“Uh… to do… what?”

She laughed. It wasn’t a painful sound; it was kind and airy. The music of her laughter lined the increasingly quiet streets as the music faded away in the background.

“You’re cute,” she hummed. Then, with a wicked smirk, she purred, “You got something in mind?”

My face filled with what felt like half the blood in my body. The rest went to another, somehow even more embarrassing aspect of my anatomy.

She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed emboldened and excited by how smitten I seemed. It all felt so idyllic that I didn’t even question when she’d taken my hand in hers again.

“Come on, cutie,” she instructed.

My heart quivered at the compliment. I didn’t even try to convince myself that it had been uttered with condescension or sarcasm. I enjoyed, even just for a moment, the idea that I might be seen as something desirable to her.

I had many reasons not to trust women like her. I had been burned in the past, with ropes and blindfolds that still felt paralyzing. But in that moment, those cruel memories felt worlds away.

She had just seemed so… calm. So happy to flaunt our intertwined fingers no matter how many familiar faces we passed.

“What were you doing in a place like that, anyway?” she asked.

I laughed before I thought not to.

“Did I seem that uncomfortable?”

“Weren’t you?”

“Yeah, I was.”

The admission didn’t seem as humiliating as I’d expected it to. The girl swaying closer with each step seemed pleased at the answer. I realized that she might’ve carried her own concern that perhaps she had overstepped bounds by assuming she was doing me a favor.

“Thanks for saving me,” I reassured her.

“Please,” she sighed, “I was looking for a reason to leave.”

It was a genuine, if not puzzling statement. Although I’d failed to realize in the moment, I would come to learn that we had both arrived at the party with the exact same motivations.

“Why’d you go then?” I asked.

The glitter on her face paled in comparison to her eyes among the streetlights. While she stared at me, I lost myself in the mesmerizing cascade of fluttering incandescence among the backdrop of her irises.

It was not the alcohol in my veins that made my cheeks tinge pink. It was not the bitter heat of the drought, nor the fear of whatever was making my shoes stick to cement.

It was the sound of her sigh and the way she looked at me like I might know the solution to the problem that landed us there together.

“Hell if I know,” she laughed solemnly. “Lonely, I guess.”

That makes two of us, I wanted to say. But it could be zero. If you wanted it to.

I wasn’t drunk enough to say that, though. Just enough to not stop the seemingly rude question from slipping out.

“Do any of those people actually… like each other?”

“Definitely not,” she laughed again.

I wanted to hear it again, but I didn’t know how to make sure of that.

So, instead, I just smiled and said, “Noted.”

By some miracle, she giggled again. Once she finished, she turned to look at me. At first, I met her eyes, but the intensity caused a shiver to spark throughout my entire body. Goosebumps rippled as my heart struggled to make sense of the feelings her eyes stirred inside me.

She laughed again. I wouldn’t care if it was the hundredth time. I savored the sweet sound in each of its iterations.

With her bitten lip and her half-lidded eyes, she swayed closer to me until our bodies bumped. I wondered if she could feel the way I shivered in response.

“What?” I asked.

“You’re cute,” she answered.

It was such a strange thing for her to repeat that the insecurity riding the waves of alcohol bubbled over again.

“You aren’t drunk, right?”

Again, she laughed.

Again, I begged.

“No, silly! I know my limits.”

She certainly hadn’t been shy with sharing the lack of them, either. Her arm wrapped around mine and pulled me even closer. It took every bit of focus I could muster not to trip and bring an end to the most wonderful waking dream.

Of course, that focus vanished almost immediately once I realized what part of her anatomy was now pressed against my arm.

So soft and warm and—

“Why are you worried about it, anyway?” she hummed.

At the same time, she dipped her head down to force me to meet her eyes instead of staring at her chest. Somehow, that wasn’t the most humiliating part of the exchange. No, that honor was reserved for the question that followed.

“Are you sure you don’t have any extracurriculars in mind for when we get to my place?”

“I was just making sure!” I yelped in the most pathetic kind of defense. It took me a moment and her own wayward glances down my body to realize that the tease hadn’t been an accusation.

If anything, it felt more like an offer.

Pride and confusion swelled in my chest. In the chaos, a few words tumbled out of my mouth that I hadn’t pre-prepared.

“I-I mean, you keep calling me cute, so… Sounds like something a drunk girl would say,” I laughed.

She didn’t, though. Instead, she came to a sudden stop and her lips curled into a slightly unnerving curvature. A hungry, stomach turning desire for… something.

Me?

It couldn’t be.

I stopped, too, holding my breath and waiting for some permission or instruction to do anything but wait. Thankfully, she turned and climbed the stairs of what I could now safely assume was her porch.

She threw the door open without further fanfare but a little bit of a tease.

“Get inside, idiot,” she laughed.

I followed her instruction. Of course, I paused at the door and waited for her to show me the way. I nearly passed out when she intertwined our fingers once more and led me through the darkness of her otherwise unoccupied apartment.

My training to hopefully get into the FBI would have had me carefully inspecting her surroundings to learn more about this tantalizing woman. It wouldn’t have been a bad idea, but I knew there was no way I could focus on anything other than how it felt when she looked at me.

Especially then. Together in the light polluted darkness, she didn’t stray too far. Even when she reached behind me to shut the door to her room, she lingered.

I stumbled backwards, not in fear, but as a horrible overcorrection to what I wanted to do.

To my surprise, it didn’t dissuade her.

In fact, she came even closer. She stepped forward until her chest was pressed against mine and her breath ghosted over my ear.

“Was he right, by the way?”

“Who?”

She let go of my hand and began trailing her fingers softly up my arm until I honestly couldn’t see straight anymore.

I wanted her so badly. Almost on cue, she splayed her hand across my lower back and held my hips against hers.

Again, I whimpered. Again, she giggled.

Her hips rolled forward against my now very prominent erection wedged between us. Just before she spoke, she took a sharp inhale that was released with a shaky breath.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” she asked.

I couldn’t even think to speak, let alone lie.

I shook my head no. Her free hand immediately tangled in my hair, tilting my head to the side just to see whether I would resist.

I didn’t.

“Do you want to?” she asked.

That time, I had to say something. I was too afraid the moment would slip away.

“Um… are you… asking me to kiss you?”

Immediately, she returned the question with a question.

“Are you telling me no?”

“No!”

Her hand in my hair held me steady while she retreated. The room felt hopelessly cold without her body heat.

“No, no, I’m not telling you no,” I babbled while she looked on with that same wicked smile. “As in, I think my answer is… yes?”

Before I could resort to begging, she closed the distance between us. Her hands held my cheeks and pulled me forward until our lips crashed together.

I knew my kissing her was clumsy and naive, but I couldn’t help it. The moment I tasted faded fruit flavored chapstick, my mind gave up on any hope for reason.

Just when I thought she was done with me, she kissed me again. She kept kissing me—the action becoming sloppier and sweeter with every passing second.

Her hands dropped to grip fistfuls of my shirt at the same time mine jumped to cup her face.

She was so soft. The pillowy feeling of her lips made me forget how much I normally hated stickiness on my skin. Because I loved how it felt when her lips lingered.

I would’ve kissed her for hours, forever, but she ended that hope with a firm tug of my shirt before she tossed me towards her bed.

My heart leapt into my throat. It lodged itself just behind the Adam’s apple like it could hide its blatant affection from her somehow.

She stalked closer like she had before. She drew feathery patterns up my goosebump riddled arms before she whispered in my ear.

“You’re fun to kiss.”

“I-Is it bad?” I stammered, for some reason.

“No, it’s fun,” she repeated.

She didn’t dwell for a second on my insecurity and momentary idiocy. Instead, she began lowering her fingers down my stomach and giggling as she felt the muscles tense.

“You wanna do something more fun, Spencer?”

Completely lacking any oxygen, I breathed, “Like what?”

“You’re a genius, right?”

Just like that, she firmly grabbed hold of me through my pants. I responded with a broken, strangled cry that fell away the moment she started to drum her fingers against the burning fabric. 

“Do I need to say it?” she teased.

Her tongue peeked out between her teeth when she pulled back to look at me. At the same time, she began palming my erection with such familiarity that I nearly fell apart in her hand.

“Fuck,” I groaned involuntarily.

“Never heard you talk like that before,” she whispered, “Hope it’s a nice word.”

Euphoria flooded my senses that were dangerously heightened by the alcohol I’d consumed to make it through the party. Not enough to be inebriated, but enough to make me stupid.

Even more stupid than I was already made by the blood pooling in the appendage fighting against my pants.

“Fuck, please don’t stop,” I gasped. My hips started bucking against her, and for a moment, I thought she would grant me mercy.

But then her hand slowed to a stop.

“Gonna have to stop if you want to get to the fun part,” she cooed.

Half-joking, I slurred back, “Is this not the fun part?”

Then the world came to a standstill, the universe pausing its incessant tumbling to allow me to hear her next words with a crystal-like clarity.

“Do you want to fuck me, Spencer?”

I nodded without hesitation or shame.

“Use your pretty voice,” she chastised so kindly it made my heart ache.

“Yes,” I pleaded. “Yes, I want to f-fuck you.”

She smiled and it didn’t feel like a mockery, somehow.

“Good,” she chirped. Then, without hesitation, she began steadfastly undoing my pants.

She seemed so skilled at the movements that I doubted whether she’d had any alcohol at all.

I’d been so caught up in the wonder of her that every ounce of fight left my body. I let her undress me and barely managed to help in my stupor.

She still didn’t mind. The smile on her face persisted the entire time.

“Lay down,” she commanded.

I followed. I scrambled back onto her bed without ever taking my eyes off her.

She moved so elegantly, so graceful as she stripped and presented me with the most beautiful sight. My heart was pounding so hard against my rib cage that I was worried it might break free to find her.

Yet when she finally crawled on top of me, my body tried to sink into the mattress. As if to stop me, she wrapped her devilishly warm fingers around my dick.

Still, I’d managed to squeak, “Aren’t you worried that we’re… moving a little fast?”

“Are you worried?” she shot back without judgement.

My mind was caught in two types of fog, however. I tried to breathe through it, tried to think of anything besides how nice it felt when her fingers ghosted over the bare tip, but I couldn’t.

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” I laughed again, the words getting caught on soft moans still pouring from my mouth.

“You tell me,” she dared.

Then she kissed me. This time, she didn’t stop at my lips. Her lithe tongue slipped between my teeth and nearly wrapped around my own.

The muffled sounds of pleasure between us were getting harder to bear. That energy, the pent up frustration of almost a full year of wanting her had to come out somehow.

I grabbed her hips harder than I thought I was capable of. My nails dug into soft flesh and it caused her to make the most beautiful sound.

That beautiful girl gasped before she moaned against my cheek. Her hips dug harder into my lap, bucking against the hardness wedged between her thighs.

I dragged my nails down her legs, surprising us both at how much I loved to watch her writhe.

Still, I knew she was the one in control. She looked down at me like a toy that played perfectly along with her fantasies.

I wanted to let her have her way with me. But when she leaned over my body, I couldn’t stop myself. My lips caught her breast the moment she came close enough.

My hands were gentler there, palming at the supple tissue that slipped between my fingers. I lavished the hardened peak at the center for as long as she would let me, suckling at her breast like a man starved.

Eventually, though, she wound a hand through my hair and pulled me back against the pillow.

In my daze, I hardly noticed the condom in her hand until she rolled the latex over my dick.

Suddenly, and without thinking, I sputtered out a confounding command.

“Wait!”

She froze. Her flushed chest heaved, still glistening with evidence of my affection.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice filled with the most genuine concern.

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine, I just…” I tried to assure her and myself.

The poor girl looked horrified, like she was waiting for me to condemn her for her absolutely delightful enthusiasm up to this point.

It was such a silly worry that it almost made me laugh. It almost made the vulnerability that would follow feel like no risk at all.

“I need to tell you something first,” I explained.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at her. I really looked at her—that dazzling star of a girl. My student, my favorite student that I’d watched and lusted over in every class. My mind simmered with that feeling; the knowing that the thing I coveted most might actually be mine.

“I… like you,” I said.

Less eloquent than I’d hoped.

If her bubbly, wholehearted laugh was any indication, she still didn’t mind.

“Well, I’d sure hope so!” she snickered.

I felt compelled to explain.

“No, I mean, I’ve liked you for a while now. Like, I really like you,” I insisted.

That time when she kissed me, it felt like her own confession. Scooting forward until her heat was pressed against my own, she sighed happily against my lips.

“You’re so sweet, Spencer,” she hummed, “I really like-like you, too.”

Even though my mind tried to deny it, my foolhardy heart recognized the truth in her words. It clung to her the same as my hands drifting over the new marks on her thighs.

“But we don’t have to do this,” she assured me. “Do you want to do this, or do you want to stop?”

“I want you so bad,” I whined without any hesitation. “Please, please—I want you.”

That cruel twist of her lips returned. The sound of my begging urged her on until she lifted herself just above where I wanted her. She leaned forward again, propping herself up above me while her hair tickled my face.

“Kiss me,” she slurred against my lips.

I did. I kissed her even more feverishly than before and used all the air in my chest to worship her.

I was convinced my lungs would collapse when she finally started to ease her way onto my aching cock. Each second of tortuous pleasure, the scorching heat of her enveloping me like flames kissing desiccated wood.

My jaw was dropped open, my mouth losing all moisture as I panted and twitched with pleasure. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I saw her. I watched as she winced at how far her walls had to stretch around me.

Yet I felt her desire dripping at the base of me, glistening the same as my spit spread across her breast.

“That’s it, baby,” she purred as she settled at the base of me.

I looked down at where I’d disappeared inside of her and decided it was better than any magic trick I’d ever hoped to master.

“Does that feel good?” she whispered when she saw the wonder in my eyes.

Involuntarily, my hips bucked into her and made her gasp. Then, still without meaning to, I did it again.

“Yes,” I hissed when she tightened her walls around me.

“My sweet boy,” she cooed between breathy laughter, “You’re so fucking precious. I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

As if she hadn’t already.

But I would come to bite my tongue quicker than the words could make it out. Because for all the pleasure her descent had brought, it couldn’t compare to the feeling of her hips subtly rocking throughout her ascent.

My body actually trembled, overcome with the unadulterated pleasure of her careful rolling up and down my dick. It seemed insane for such a simple motion to render me absolutely dumbfounded, but it did.

I didn’t say a word. The only thing spilling from my lips were moans and butchered attempts at her name.

My hands, however, wandered. They traced her silhouette and groped whatever softness it could find. They settled, naturally, at her breasts. Through the motions of curious, clumsy fingers, I felt her heart beating harder against my palm.

As its speed increased, so did that of her hips. She came down harder while the pitch of her moans grew higher and more airy.

“Spencer,” she whined.

It sounded like starlight igniting deep in my chest. I felt that tension growing in my gut, threatening to bring an end to the wonder of loving her.

“Wait,” I grunted. My hands fell to her hips and halted her movements before I begged, “Sl-Slower.”

She obliged me. With her head tipped back and her hands on my chest, she rode me so slowly that I could feel every detail of her twitching muscles.

“You’re so beautiful,” I groaned.

My hips caught me off guard as they started to move. They bucked up into her with increasing intensity until it broke her rhythm.

That beautiful girl fell forward, barely catching herself before she collapsed against my body.

“Fuck me, Spencer,” she mumbled against my neck. She interrupted her own pleas with sloppy kisses against my jugular that lit my body on fire.

That passion was quickly muted by her words, however. Because that was when she growled, “Take me, Spencer. I’m yours.”

I’d never been a particularly strong man, but there was absolutely nothing that would stop me then. My hands splayed over the back of her thighs and lifted her just enough for my hips to move freely.

She clung to me, her arms wrapped around my neck and her whole body rippling with each collision of our hips.

I fucked her harder, my hands carving the memory into her skin and my jaw clenched so tightly I thought I might draw blood from my tongue.

“You can do it, sweetheart,” she purred.  “Give it to me.”

Then, just before I found my peak, I felt it. The unmistakable feeling of pulsing muscles as her body seized in my hold.

I gasped, choking on a moan as I felt her body begging me to fill her with the full extent of my desire.

I emptied myself into the condom and wished that it could have been her instead. I felt the warmth dripping back down me and dared to wonder what it would have looked like on her now-marked thighs.

“Good boy,” she snickered like she could read those fantasies raging in my mind. “That’s my good boy.”

She lifted her head just enough to plant one final kiss on my forehead, and then she promptly collapsed against my chest. I welcomed her weight despite the lack of air. Breathing hardly seemed important compared to her comfort.

And it was comfortable for me, too. As I nuzzled against her neck, I found a sense of home that I’d never felt before.

She was sticky with sweat and spit from haphazard kisses, but she was so beautiful that I barely even noticed.

When she got off of my lap, I missed her immediately. My hand chased hers and, to my unending pleasure, she let me hold it. She lingered for as long as she could before she excused herself and left me to clean up the evidence of what we’d done.

Her room was still as quiet as before. The heavy bass from the frat house felt lifetimes away. The alcohol still swirled in my bloodstream, doing little to warm my now freezing body.

When she walked back through the door, my body flooded with relief. I watched as she grabbed all of my clothing she’s tossed around and placed each piece on the nightstand.

There was a strange sadness in her eyes that I would’ve done anything to remedy.

“Hey, uh…” I started, yet my throat closed when she looked at me.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I-I have a question,” I said.

Then paused, again.

She smiled. When that didn’t serve as answer enough, she laughed.

“Yeah?”

That lovely sound granted me the confidence to finally ask the question I’d been pondering since the moment I stepped into her room.

“Are… Are you still lonely?”

I hadn’t thought it possible, but her smile grew even brighter. Abandoning starlight for the full force of the sun that would soon peek over the horizon.

“Not so much anymore,” she answered bashfully.

I smiled, too. With a playful tilt to my shrug, I asked her one more question that begged for an answer.

“Can I stay anyway?”

Again, she giggled.

“Yeah. I’d love that.”

“So would I,” I told her.

And so, we did.

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[waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle]

ᵤₙfₒᵣₜᵤₙₐₜₑₗy ₛₘᵢₜₜₑₙ ₍ₘₐfᵢₐ bₒₛₛ! Gₒⱼₒ ₓ ᵣₑₐdₑᵣ₎

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Summary: Life leads you to treacherous roads after deciding to enter the dangerous life you knew well not to follow.Having gojo by your side inviting you deeper and deeper into all that’s wrong in the world, inciting you to be selfish and carefree wasn’t supposed to be to your liking, so why do you shiver with adrenaline every time he decides to be the devil on your shoulder?

Contents: Mafia boss gojo x secretary reader.(civilian au ig)

-Secret crush!!

-Yandere Gojo.

Gojo being an egocentric bitch! Wealthy gojo! X no nonsense reader.

Tags<33333:

Warnings: Simp Gojo ig, trigger warning if you’re not interested in anything mafia related. The narration of this story is inspired by Latin and Asian mafia.

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The car was slightly quiet, besides Gojo’s occasional replies to his phone call. The chauffeur seemed to have his mouth taped shut, only focusing on taking you to the warehouse where your boss's jets are stored.

The 3 a.m. breeze passing through the window and kissing your face is starting to make your cheeks cold to the touch. The night’s temperature makes you kind of regret your outfit choice, but what could you say? Leaving the drugs and mafia behind, it was your first time visiting China! You were so excited for every new experience there was to offer. You may be there on a “business trip,” but considering all your expenses are paid, you might as well make it memorable. That led you to go all out when choosing the first outfit you’d wear when flying private. Your chest was adorned by a burgundy sleeveless turtleneck top, a black miniskirt that hugged your waist, and some below-the-knee leather-heeled boots that combined with your top.

You quickly shook the regret away. Your priority is to progress on this week's worth of work, taking advantage of the current free time you have. Your soft fingertips quickly tapped the warm computer resting on your thighs. Unbeknownst to yourself, the tall figure with fluffy white hair scratched his undercut with one hand while the other lazily held the phone close to his ear. He couldn’t help but dare to take a peek at your smooth legs. He tried to contain himself, which he really did, but his eyes couldn’t help but wander up your thighs. The phone call is now long forgotten, only working as a background nose for his shameful fantasy, where he lies his head on your cushiony, soft thighs while your long nails trace figures along his scalp.

-“Whatcha looking at doesn’t like my outfit or what?”-You question catching him off guard after finally noticing his burning stare.

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise, but his ego wasn’t going to let him keep quiet and possibly seem embarrassed in front of you or anyone. So he quickly fixed his posture and struck back.

-“Are those the boots I gave you for Christmas? It's the first time I’ve seen you wear them. They don’t look completely hideous on you.”

Gojo thanked whatever god still had mercy on him for giving him the perfect excuse to look your way.

-“It is the first time I’m wearing them!!! How did you notice?” - You giggled at him shamelessly, flashing him your pearly whites. How could you do this to him? Now he wanted to buy every pair of boots in the world just to see your smile as you showed them off to him and blushed at him.-“ I wish I was as easily observant as you. You’re once again correct. I just wanted to save them for a nice event.”

-“You've never been on a plane before?"

-“Not a private one.”

Poor you.

So your first time is going to be with me, huh? How sweet.” Gojo joked proudly, wearing a smug smile.

You threw some sticky notes at his head that you had in your purse, to which he just responded with a low and slow cackle.

The chauffeur looked back in surprise, wondering how you still had all your extremities together after disrespecting the boss like that.

You now rest your chin on the window as you approach the warehouse. After passing various checkpoints with armed men in the middle of nowhere, you finally arrive at his warehouse.

Geto ordered around the employees as they packed something onto the jet. You couldn’t continue snooping since one of your guards opened the door to signal you to leave the car.

As you get off, you feel the rough concrete make friction with your boots. As you start to explore the view, you see like five warehouses surrounding the pathway. As your assistants grab the luggage in the trunk, you look around for familiar faces.

You promptly see your boss appear from the side of the train and shortly walk over to you. 

-“Ladies first.” -He points with his head to the open silver jet door.

You glance back at him in a distrusting manner and soon head into the aircraft. The cabin smelled sterile, the hallways were wide and decorated with cashmere white seats adorned by cedar walls with floating tables and big round windows to your side was a twin bed with feathery pillows and cushiony covers.

-“Can i sleep here? If I fall asleep right now, I might avoid jet lag.” - You ask this question while settling down on the bouncy bed, you avoided giving any compliments to your boss, you didn’t want to seem easily surprised by his extravagant wealth.

-“Tired already? I thought you wanted to spend the night with me.”-He banters as usual.

-“As if you could offer me a good night.”- You joke back, and he simply raises an eyebrow.-“I’m feeling a little groggy, but if you need me up, I’ll be charging you a nighttime fee in USD of course, since we are traveling internationally.”

Gojo opens his mouth to respond but is shortly interrupted by his godmother.

-“Gas tanks are full; flights starting in 5.”-Comments the raven head while serving himself and Gojo a cup of whiskey from the bar.

-“Want some?” -He asks, looking toward your direction.

-“It’s 3 a.m.; what type of question is that? Pass the bottle, bro.”-You respond while tying your hair for a fun night.

 

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

 

Your knocked-out body is seen slugging on the before mentioned bed, neck in a creepy pose and your cheeks painted red. Your skirt is slightly riding up on your thighs,barely noticeable to the untrained eye,but still too much for Gojo's liking.

Gojo and Geto are sitting down in the seats in front of you, enjoying the spectacle of your drunken self. They’re still completely sober from their third glass of whisky.

Gojo takes his phone out and is about to take a picture until Geto grabs his hand.

-“Better not; what if she gets mad and fucks up our taxes.”- His best friend intervenes.

Gojo quietly nods and reincorporates himself into his seat, spreading his legs as far as possible , sliding his Ferragamo shoes across the carpet to touch your boots with the tip of his footwear.

After strutting back into the cabin from speaking with the pilots in the cockpit,Geto  let’s gojo know that they’re landing in Sanduzhen in about an hour, just to later disappear into one of the rooms on the jet. Meanwhile, Gojo is still staring at your freshly run-over deer pose.

You look so uncomfortable.

You may even wake up with neck pain.

He wasn’t very content with the thought of you waking up hungover and with neck pain.

He sat up and looked around to see if anyone was looking at him, then strategically hooked his arm under your knees while grasping your arms with the other hand. Once he had you in a bridal position, he crouched down a bit and grabbed your leather purse to later stand back up again. He was so tempted to just stand there and hold you in his arms like a big baby and feel your hot breath tickle his neck, but he recognized you both have a busy day ahead of you, so he simply had to ignore your sweet cotton candy perfume and lay you to rest. He swiftly headed to the back of the cabin, where his bedroom is located, to next effortlessly open the door and shut it behind himself.

He laid your limp body cozily on the comforter, and he then proceeded to carefully sit on the bed while side-eyeing you to see if you would flutter your eyes open and catch him red-handed. Once he confirmed you were out like a light, he gently unzipped your boots and put them aside to then cover you with the thickest, softest blanket he could find.

He just as carefully stood up and was just about to walk off and do whatever shady shit he usually does when he realized he deserved a treat for being such a gentleman, right?

He crouched down to your face level and took his big, cold, and scarily pale hand and tamed the wild hairs that cover your face. His pointer finger then started to trace all your factions. He could feel his cheeks burn as your soft skin met with his finger tips. As if he weren’t already testing the limits of his self-control, his gaze faltered at the sight of your pink, rosy lips, slightly agape. He was better than this; he knew better than to fantasize about locking lips with his secretary. But he needed to get something out of it, something that was worth the agony he experienced at the thought that he couldn’t just lay next to you and cuddle away the cold, something worth his jagged breaths as he tried to ignore your intoxicating scent or worth making him hate himself as he acted like a teenage boy around you, like he wasn’t beheading some messengers from a rival gang then sending some of their parts to their boss and their families.

So he said, Fuck it, and submerged his head between your neck and hair as he inhaled your essence. After getting drunk on your scent, he backed off and planted a chaste kiss on your bare shoulder. He wishes to plant many more, but one is all he can afford for the moment.

Then he decided to finally leave before doing anything crazy, and to his luck he managed to withdraw from his room a few minutes before Geto left his own.

-“Satoru.”

-“Yeah?” The white-haired man replied, concealing his previous high adrenaline rush.

-“Do you think she’ll find out?”

After his best friend muttered that sentence, every drop of joy drained from his system.

-"What’s done is done.”

The godmothers face winced before an announcement was heard on the cabin speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s your pilot speaking; we have arrived in Shanghai, mainland China.”

*　　 　　✦　　　. *　　 　　✦　　　. *　　 　　✦

A/n: Hello my beautiful angels , I hope you enjoyed this chapter. What do you guys think gojo is hiding from the reader? Did you like the secret one sided romance going on? I’d like to remember y’all that suggestions and request are open. Once again comments are appreciated, until next time, kisses.💋

Poll for funsies

#mafia gojo #jjk mafia #mafia romance #yandere gojo #yandere #yandere fanfiction #simp gojo #gojo imagine #comments are appreciated #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk au #geto suguru #jjk #jjk x you #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo mafia boss #gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo fluff #mi gente latino #idk what tags to use #idk what else to tag #dark romance #Spotify

[xrcs]

sub gyutaro + dom reader

author’s note – i like deadass forgot about demon slayer until the new ep came out yesterday 🤦🏾‍♂️.. but here i am writing for it

content warnings – talk of insecurities. mirror sex. handjob. uncut gyu. nipple play. self harm. soft porn again. L word used???

Mirrors. Gyutaro despises his reflection, breaking each one he sees. Why? Why did he have to be made like this? Were the gods furious at him? Gyutaro wanted to shatter every bone that protruded from his frame. You always see how he treats himself. It was almost as if he was immune to self-care.

You wish you could understand what was going on in his mind. Watching as he scratched his skin off every time he got mad at himself over little things. Warm crimson blood oozed out of the cuts he made from his continuous scratching.

“Jesus Christ, Gyutaro! Stop that, please,” you wince, his tired yellow eyes glancing at you. Gyutaro’s hand hovers over his wounded neck, chest feeling heavy.

“And why do you care?” he scoffs. Gyutaro turns his back on you and walks into another room. Why is it that he hates himself? You follow his footsteps slowly, trying your best not to anger him. But it’s also infuriating seeing Gyutaro degrade himself and his worth.

You sigh as you notice him breaking down. He’s facing the wall, gripping his hair tightly. It’s saddening. His behavior makes you want to cry for him. Gyutaro’s sniffles and sobs become increasingly louder. You approach him and hug him. Your loving embrace soothes him. His tense shoulders drop while he turns to look at you.

Your lips hover over the shell of his ear, “Gyutaro. I want to understand you. Please, let me know what’s goin’ on,” He doesn’t respond to your concern. You’re just going to have to make him feel better. Your soft and plush hands snake down his torso. Fingertips grazing his bony flesh. Gyutaro’s lips let out a small gasp as he feels himself heating up from the contact.

He was never used to being treated well. Even being protected was a taboo thing to him. Gyutaro loathes everyone except you. You’re different. You’ve never judged him for looking a certain way. That’s why he loves you. You’re kind, loving, caring, and so much more. Gyutaro loses himself in your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“Get up,” you whisper. Gyutaro follows your request and stands up. You wrap your hand around his wrist and guide him to the vanity mirror. The first emotion that washes over Gyutaro is disgust. His repugnance only grew once he saw how skeletal he was. All of his self-hating thoughts came back again.

You observe his body language. That same sickened expression was on his face. You let your hands explore his body this time. The left teases his pec area while the right goes to other places. Gyutaro’s heart rate increases as you touch him so lewdly. He can feel the tent growing in his sweatpants.

His chest feels light when you touch him.

“Look at yourself. I want you to realize how handsome you are,” you utter. You slowly take off Gyutaro’s sweats, his semi-hard cock springing out. Another small gasp comes from his lips, his member twitching in anticipation. You press light kisses onto his nape, nibbling occasionally.

You rub your palm on his bulbous tip, rolling your wrist. A series of moans slip past Gyutaro’s mouth. Pre-cum starts to leak out from his tip. You stroke his whole length, lubricating his cock with the sticky substance. His eyes close while trying to take in all the pleasure.

You abruptly stop and firmly say, “Look into the mirror. Now,” Gyutaro whimpers as he opens his eyes, watching himself getting pleasured. Your other hand pinches his nipple, rolling it between your thumb and pointer.

“Haah, fuck! W-Why do you want me.. ngh- to look at myself in the m-mirror?” Gyutaro questions, arching his back as your touches become more intense. That question will be answered later when he figures it out. Your hand slowly fondles his cock. With every stroke you give, his foreskin covers his tip. The delicious brush of the skin on his tip makes his head spin.

He can’t help but look away. Does he really deserve the pleasure you’re giving him? As he turns his head to the side, your hand assertively keeps it in place. Your eyes burn into his face while you do so. You flick his dark grey nipple, making him yelp. All this touching is making his mind all muddly.

You stop stroking his dick, leaving your hand in the same position. He starts to buck his hips into your fist. God, this is your favorite sight to see. Him fucking your fist like an animal, chasing his own pleasure. You continue to pinch his nipple, creating a more blissful experience from Gyutaro. Waves of satisfaction ripple through his body.

“Look at you, Gyu. So pretty becoming undone. You’re perfect,” you state, smiling as you watch his eyes roll back into his head. He’s getting close. You move your hand around his cock at a fast pace, forcing him to look at himself.

Tears fall down his face from your compliments. You really think he’s pretty? Perfect? More pretty moans and whimpers come from Gyutaro. The coil in his stomach is about to snap. The roll of your wrist as you stroke his cock makes his mouth water. His eyes feel heavy, eyelashes clumping together from the tears.

“F-fuck! ‘M gonna cum.. cum! Lemme cum, pleasepleaseplease,” Gyutaro moans, voice cracking as drool slips past his lips. You smirk as you feel his body twitch as you play with his nipples.

“You’re so handsome, so perfect for me,” you mutter. Gyutaro feels like he’s going to break. The pleasure keeps on building up and it’s getting stronger by the second. Your praise is just too much!

“I love you, Gyutaro,”

His cock twitches as you mumble those words in his ear. Thick, hot, white ropes spurt out his cock. His eyes roll back as his head falls onto your shoulder. Your left hand comes up to pat his head, soothing him as he comes down from his high. God, what has he done to deserve you? You always make him feel so secure. Even with himself.

You wait patienly for his breathing to slow down. Humming and playing with his hair as you do.

Once he does, he sits up. His head between your thighs.

“You have no flaws, Gyu. Say or do some stupid shit again and you’ll see what happens,” you vocalize, giving him a small kiss. He nods and turns around to look at you.

“I appreciate you. I.. love you too,”

XRCS 2023

#gyutaro. #gyuutaro x reader #gyutaro smut #kny smut #kny gyutaro #demon slayer smut #anime smut #dom reader #sub character #anime x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #XRCS.

[littlemorningstarx]

Warning: this is fantasy, and only roleplaying between consenting adults would make this scenes okay outside of fantasies, if you can't comprehend consent, go away. I'm very serious about this.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Imagine having a 16yo big brother who loves you so fucking much he can't stand to not touch you all the time. So by the time you're 10yo, you're already used to big bro hugging you, pulling you into his lap and holding you there, and you think nothing of the big bulge in his pants and your little perky ass.

But you're little friends are starting to talk about boys and the forbidden wrong stuff their parents do at night and you're beginning to understand why you're big bro like you so very much:

You can make him feel so good

You're so proud to discover that

So one weekend while you're parents are out of town on a work trip and left you with your brother, you sneak into his room at night time after you're supposed to be asleep and finds him smoking a weird looking cig.

You've seen the older kids smoking these kinds of cigarettes and you're curious. So when you're big brother sees you as you enter the room, you ask him about it.

"It makes you feel good, sis. Com'ere" he says in a soft tone, scutching you in his lap and he's wearing just his boxers. You love the feeling of his skin in yours and cuddles up to him, feeling his cock —your friends taught you the word— twitch under you "try it"

You tale a drag, coughing as the smoke chokes on your throat. Your big bro laughs at you, caressing the exposed skin on your thigh.

"It'll get better, just feel it"

You obey your big brother because you trust him and wants so bad to please him. So you take another hit, then another and another. You squirm a little.

"I feel dizzy" you murmur as you feel your pjs sliding off your body, your skin so sensitive it feels like you're on fire.

"It's normal, sis, and I'll show you what else is normal" your brother tells you and you feel his hands sliding down to your princess parts.

You whine as his fingers brush your pussy, a sensitive button pulsating in the middle of your legs.

"This feels nice" you say and your brother hums in agreement.

"You're dripping so good for your big brother, love" he says in your year as he keeps playing with your pussy, his fingers making you tingly and hot. "Such a good little whore for me"

You moan an agreement even if you don't know exactly what he's talking about, just wanting to make him happy.

"You know, mom wanted to send me away because she thought I might try to hurt you when we were kids, but I don't get it. I'd never hurt my little sis like that." You moan once again, bothered by the idea of your mother sending your big brother away, a possessiveness you didn't know it was possible passing through your heart with all the warmth of big bro's fingers as well.

"It feels so good, so warm, you could never hurt me"

Your brother chuckles.

"Get on all fours for me, love, I'll show you how much your big brother loves you."

It's now, you think mindlessly as you get on all fours as your brother ordered you, although you don't know exactly what you're talking about. Your body seems to know, though, and you can feel your pussy juices making your little holes and thighs wet and sticky, you can feel your little k!d cvnt throb, painfully... Empty?

You don't understand this feeling, but as your big brother gets behind you and you feel something brushing the entry of you hole, it doesn't matter anymore. You don't care that you don't understand, that you don't know anything, that you're being a dump empty-headed toy for your brother.

All that matter is your hole and how much you want it to be full.

And big bro obviously knows that, he knows you better than anyone.

"Awn, my little whore wants to get dicked down by her big brother's cock like the slut she is, doesn't she?" He says in a condescending tone as he pushes his wiener inside you. The feeling is so good you can barely breathe, his cock brushing every place inside you, rubbing every pleasure point you didn't even know existed.

"Big bro, please... I need more. More." You crie as he enters you in a punishing pace. You need to feel him entering you, pushing against your cervix even if you don't know how to say it.

"You're taking it like a fucking r@pedoll just for big bro, huh? Moaning and begging for cock like I always knew you would, you were made to take my cock." He says as he pounds into your pussy, your whole world focused on how good it feels, how wet you are, how you wish for more. "A fucking perfect r4pedoll for a perv brother like me, I was ready to pump you full of me for years now. If it wasn't for mom keeping me away from you, we could've be doing this for a lot longer, k!dd0"

You hate your mother, then, for keeping you away from this, from feeling so full, so good, so drunk in something you can barely remember your own name.

"But it's in the nature of a fucktoy to spread their legs and let their owners use them, right? That's why you cane here tonight, wasn't it?" He speeds up, groaning as he grabs your hair, pulling it rough.

You moan and thrash around him, needing it all, the feeling and warmth too much for you, sending you into an spiral.

"Gonna breed that pretty little k!dcvnt of yours, love, pump you full of my seed, make you pregnant with your brother's child. Then mom can never keep us apart again" you moan at the idea, blissfully pleasured at the thought of being bred by your big brother, of carrying his child when you're also a child.

"Yes, big brother, make your k!d sister round with your child, please" you finally find your voice, moaning so loud you'd be surprised if your neighbors haven't heard you, but you don't care.

All you care about is the cock stretching your pussy to its limits and then some.

The thought is enough to tip your brother over the edge and he cums hard inside you, pressing his balls to your tiny entrance like he wants them to enter you too, and the twitching of his cock inside you makes you cum, the cummies so strong you see white and all you hope is that big bro doesn't pull out.

That he decides to keep his cock in its home, warm and securing his seed in the place where they belong.

#under4ge #1nc3$t #patriarchy kink #4gepl4y #4g3pl4y #4g3play #4geplay #r4ape kink #r4p3 kink #r4p3b4it #r4pepl4y #r4p3 m3 #send me r@pe threats #k!dd0 #weed intox #intox cnc #intox kink #brocon #big bro/little sis #p3rvlvr #!cky daddy #!nc3st #!cky brother #fauxc3st #fauxcest #cnc free use #consensual noncon #dad cock #consent #18+ content

[veradescent]

BACKSTAGE WITH YOU! (FEATURING DILUC RAGNVINDR)

sub reader ; fem reader ; masterlist ; requests thirsts and asks are open!!

cw ; idk diluc has a really big dick LMFAO 🫡🫣, semi public, bodyguard x idol/celeb, writer is newly 17!!

bodyguard diluc who fucks you senseless in a closet ten minutes before you have to go on stage, holding your thigh up over his shoulder and spreading you open further for him. even with you spread this wide open he still can barely fit his cock inside of you. he’s always gentle and so desperately wants to be today too, but neither of you have time to do so. he’s always such a gentleman, trying to be kind and warm you up :( “i’m sorry if it hurts-“ he mutters to you as he lets himself fully sink into you, one hand pulling your leg up and the other hand spreading your pussy lips open around him. the stretch is so bad that it feels like he might split you open, his thick tip prodding against your cervix. you almost let out a sob as you throw your head back and the only thing that stops you from doing so is the knowledge that staff members walk around directly outside of the door. you bite down hard on your lip but a pathetic whine still escapes. it’s so hot inside of you that diluc can’t hold in his sounds either, grunting against your neck where hickies already lie beneath layers of concealer. you can’t have your fans knowing about him…

“i know- you’re so tight...” he pants, head now resting on your shoulder and facing the wall he has you pressed up against. “you’re clenching so hard, god~ fuck i can hardly move.”

“di~ just be rough i don’t want you to be gentle- please keep going we don’t have time!” you whine to him, one of your hands squeezing onto his sleeve. “just wreck me”

you don’t have to tell him twice. diluc does just as you asked, fucking into you so hard his muscles tense making you jolt and making your back hit against the wall so hard it might bruise. he squeezes onto your thigh to ground himself as you gush all over him, cusses and groans constantly coming from him in response to your tightening walls. diluc hasn’t ever felt as good as you make him feel even when you’re together for such a short time. your pussy is addicting and his only regret is that he can’t fully undress you and grab at your tits or cover you in bite marks for all of your fans to see. something makes him want them all to know who’s been using you.

a slight red imprint covers where his hand has been holding onto you. after fast and rough fucking diluc spills inside of you, leaving you feeling full while his dick plugs your hole. you wish you could stay feeling warm, pleasured, and filled up for the rest of the day but he has to pull out. as he sets you down on the floor your legs feel like they might give out and they almost do when he scoops up the cum dripping out of you with practiced fingers and pushes it back inside.

“five minutes, people! where the hell is our star??” a voice calls out from outside. as you take a moment to catch your breath your sweet bodyguard pulls your clothing onto you and then pulls on his own. when he quickly tries to smooth your hair out you can already feel his thick cum dripping out into your panties. the area between your thighs is wet and sticky, and you try to squeeze them together to keep it all inside. while he tries to check over your makeup you look up at him. your makeup artist will be pissed if they see that you screwed it up again..

“your makeup stayed mostly in place. we have to go.” he tells you in a breathless but soft tone. “are you ready?”

with a sigh you nod, leaning up and kissing him briefly before taking his hand as he guides you out.

“one more show before we can go home?”

he scoffs, and nods.

“yeah. one more show and then i’ll take you back and fuck you properly.”

extra ! ; your legs feel wobbly the entire next performance, and the next morning after the show when you open your phone you can already see the theories on why you seemed so off last night; and who was the cause 😮! what can you say, your fans are just too smart… 😇

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin hcs #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin smut x reader #diluc smut #diluc x reader #diluc x reader smut #diluc hcs

[carolmunson]

out on the moonlit floor. (older!modern!eddie)

part six of who knows how many orange colored sky set list

you and eddie walk down to the piers at brooklyn bridge after you both meet up for dinner a couple nights after your embarrassing drunk sleep over. you both spur on conversations about each other over icecream -- and when you get home, you both share more than you expected. inspiration from this series comes to you in part by: @loveshotzz 'all i really want is you' series. wanting to fuck that old man. and readers like you.

tw: discussions of minor character death, drinking some alcohol, smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), some vague talk about BDSM, couples first time, reader cries after sex

songspiration: kiss me | six pence none the richer

Now that the humidity broke it was almost a little chilly over by Brooklyn Bridge Park tonight. The water from the Hudson slapping against the posts of the first pier, each little wave winking when it caught the light of the moon. Manhattan sparkled across the river, glittering in both of your eyes while you walked toward the fireboat station turned ice cream parlor. Kids run around with sticky hands and mouths, shrieking and giggling with each other while parents look onward. Other couples walk hand in hand down towards the other piers -- some still under construction.

The air is warm but in a comforting way -- a reminder that fall is on the precipice, peeking itself out in hints so that you want something pumpkin flavored in early August. Eddie's hand is warm and clammy in yours, the silver bands on his fingers warmed by your touch.

"I never come down here," he says, looking around, "Why don't I ever come down here?"

You shrug, "I dunno -- are you a big water guy?"

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head, "Not really -- Steve'll drag me to the beach a lot when he visits and I'm fine with the beach but -- I'm not like, a beach guy. Or a river guy, or whatever. Lakes, sure. Ponds, why not?"

"I love being near the water," you say, leading him into the boathouse. You get in line behind at least ten people, all savoring their dog days of summer with an ice cream cone. It's warm in there, all the fans do is blow around the smell of sugar and cream, waffle cones off the press. He lets go of your hand to lay it gently on your shoulder to guide you through, heated skin to heated skin.

"I can love being near the water," he offers.

"Yeah?" you turn your head to look at him, his cheeks flushing. You look so pretty like this, he thinks. A little warm, a little slick on your skin. In your pretty summer dress that he hadn't seen yet. The soft quirk of your brows when you ask.

"Yeah," he nods, "For you? Of course."

You roll your eyes, taking a few steps forward as the line moves, "What looks good to you?" You pass a sticky menu you to him that he squints to read, apples up his lifting up to hide his eyes. You pull his glasses from the worn collar of his shirt, clearing your throat while you tap them against his knuckle.

"I can read it, baby," he mutters, distracted by the descriptions in light ink on white paper hidden behind a foggy sheet of plastic.

"You're gonna give yourself a headache," you chide. He rolls his eyes this time, taking his glasses and tucking them back on his collar. He passes the menu back to you.

"I already know what I want."

"Sure you do."

You walk out together, him with his Sweet Cream & Cookies cone and you with you Salted Crack'd Caramel in a cup. He's had two bites of yours and already regrets his decision.

"Well if you could read the menu then you probably would've got something more exciting," you tease, pulling your cup away when he reaches again.

"I mean this is good but it's boring," he pouts, "I'm not a boring ice cream kind of person."

"Is Steve?" you ask, his head tilts at the question, turning to you.

"Steve?" he repeats, "Why're you asking about Steve?"

"That's who Big Guy is in your phone, right -- with the little muscle emoji next to it? Your buddy Steve?" you smirk at him, his tongue pressing against the back of his teeth.

"Yeah, that's my guy," he nods, "You know how I said he always drags me to the beach when he visits?"

"I do," you nod, a spoonful of ice cream resting on your tongue before you swallow leaving a coating of mocha, sea salt, and caramel behind.

"He's visiting soon," Eddie smiles down at your lips closed around the plastic spoon, "I'm really excited for him to meet you."

"Do you think I'll like him?"

"I think...Steve's a boring ice cream person," he laughs, "Always gets like -- butter pecan or something. You think I'm an old man? Wait until you meet this guy."

You both laugh with each other like mean girls on the playground.

"Is he um -- is he doing okay? I know you mentioned a few weeks ago that he lost his wife," you're shy while you approach the subject, you could tell it weighed heavy on Eddie to talk about it.

"I think..." Eddie starts, taking a lick of his ice cream while he considers it, "I think he's doing okay for being almost half a year out. I um, I stayed with him for the first three months -- moved him into the house they bought --"

"She passed before they moved," he explains when your brows knit in confusion.

"Oh," you nod along, face relaxing so he can continue.

"Moved him in -- I think he cried for six days straight. We didn't even sleep, just laid on his couch and watched Fever Pitch like, eighty five times in a row," he looks out at the water while he recalls it and then smiles, "Which is so weird considering he's a Cubs fan."

"That's so niche," you giggle before softening, "You're a good friend."

"He'd do it for me," Eddie shrugs, "He's already done like so mu--"

Before he can finish, two runners speed by, knocking him in the shoulder. You both watch his cone fall in slow motion towards the blacktop of the walk way.

"Sorry," the guy calls out while he continues on, barely looking back over his shoulder while he goes. The neon yellow of his running sneakers become little flecks as he gets deeper towards the tree covered walkway on the other side.

"Hey, fuck off and DIE, asshole!" you call after him, a grit in your voice that Eddie hadn't expected to hear. He can't help but laugh at your anger at his expense.

"Hey, hey," he starts, newly free hands resting on your shoulders, "Easy killer."

"There was plenty of space for him to run," you seethe, "He's a fuckin' asshole."

"It's okay," he promises, face relaxed, "It's okay."

"It's not okay," you sigh. You hold your half full cup and spoon out to him, "Have mine."

"But then you won't have one," he says, "I'm not taking yours."

"You already know you like the flavor," you insist, "I'll grab myself another one, I need a water anyway."

Eddie looks at the ice cream and then you, one dimple creasing when a side smile pulls at his lips, "Okay."

When you come back with your new ice cream he's settled down on a bench directly across from the Freedom Tower. You can see all the lights across the water from the Seaport, water taxis and mini dinner cruises coming in an out of dock in the haze of a midsummer night.

"Before Sandy, this used to be a weird sad looking mall," you say, sitting next to him, "And there used to be a really good restauarant called Red -- I loved it cause they never carded me."

"You go to college here?" he asks, you nod.

"I liked the mall cause there was a Bath and Body Works and a Christmas in New York store. I'd go in there every time I was homesick -- just felt cozy for some reason," you shrug.

"But the new stuff there is cool too," you say, taking a bite of your ice cream, "It's definitely like -- for rich people."

"Definitely for rich people," he agrees, his spoon sneaking over to your full cup, his empty one next to him. He steals a bite, letting the flavor savor on his tongue.

"Come on, why do you keep getting amazing flavors?" he sighs. You hold the cup tighter to yourself, a smile working on your lips.

"This one is just for me," you chide, "If you want more go get more."

"Nah, I just wanna taste it one more time," he says smoothly, quietly, leaning in. His hand finds your cheek, ducking in for a long slow kiss, "There we go."

Speechless, you just shake your head and take another bite when he breaks away.

"No, no, I think I need another one -- gotta get the full flavor profile," he smirks, loving the sounds of your giggle when he leans in again for another kiss. He gives you three loud smooches on the lips, enough to make a few people roll their eyes but neither of you notice. Too wrapped up in each other to really care.

Eddie's apartment is as it always is -- it smells like him, the walls are covered in knick-knacks and framed posters. Maximalism at it's finest -- organized chaos -- but somehow streamlined. You leave your sandals in the hallway, barefeet hugging the cold hardwood from the AC.

"You know what I could go for right now?" you ask. He looks up with his brows raised, putting his wallet and keys in a bowl by the door. He'd forget them otherwise.

"A mezcal marg," you say, "I'd fuck up a marg so hard right now."

"Well lucky for you," he starts, walking over to the bar cart behind the dining room table, he lifts up a bottle of Del Maguey Vida, "I have mezcal."

"Yay," you let out quietly, not too far off from our quiet cheer when you were wasted in his kitchen last week. You can tell he used to bar tend by the way he mixes drinks, how he slaps the mixer and shakes it, how he eyeballs the liquor. It's not long after you've situated on the couch that he comes over to you with your drink.

"Here cutie," he says, carefully passing it to you from behind the couch and walking around it with his own. The first sip confirms he's made these a million times, wonderfully smokey and salty, refreshing and fruity.

"Oh no," you laugh, "It's really good."

"I'll make you as many as you want," he takes a sip and settles down next to you, arm outstretched behind you, "Thank you."

"Why're you so good at everything?"

"Me?" he quirks his brow, "Nah, I'm just -- I have a lot of experience with like, mundane shit."

"No, no, you're like -- you're good at a lot of stuff," you nod, "Give yourself some credit."

You feel bold even though you've only had two sips of the margarita, but it gives you some courage nonetheless, "What else are you good at?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well --" the cat catches your tongue for a moment, suddenly unsure if you want to bring it up. But then again, he's already seen you at your almost most pathetic.

"I saw those handcuffs in your room the first time I was here," you start, "You good at tying girls up?"

He blushes hard, laughing off the embarrassment, "S'cuse me?"

"I'm serious," you laugh, "Are you good at tying girls up? Is that the kind of stuff you're into?"

"I -- wow -- um," he bumble through words trying to find an answer, looking down at his drink and then looking at you and back down again.

"I -- yeah," he shakes his head, surprised at his own confession, "Yeah, I'm -- I'm into that kind of stuff. Not like, not all the time -- but for some partners, sure, yeah." "So you are a little freak then," you tease.

"Maybe," he shrugs, "By the look on your face though it looks like you might be really interested in that."

You shrug back coolly, another sip of your marg giving you a moment to consider, "I can be."

"Yeah?" He leans back on the couch, legs spread open while he looks you over. He keeps his eyes on you, sipping slowly on his drink while he does. You start to get shy under his gaze, exactly what he was waiting for, "You think you could handle it, sweetheart?"

As expected, you roll your eyes, "Ew."

He puts his drink on a coaster on the coffee table, coming back up to give you a kiss, "You don't think it's ew."

"I know," you nod, letting his lips trail down your jaw to your neck and back up again. Unafraid, you crawl back onto his lap like you did the first night you were there. His hands wander more freely, sliding up and around your thighs, listening to your sounds and how you like to be touched. When you roll your hips he doesn't stop you this time, he lets you do it, savoring the relief he gets every time the pressure meets his hardening cock in his slacks.

"I'm not," Kiss, "Gonna do that," Kiss, "Tonight, though."

"Oh," you smirk, holdhing his face in your hands while you look down at him, "Are we gonna do it tonight?"

He blushes again, chastising himself for assuming what you wanted, "No, no, only if you want to. And I want it to be nice and like -- I want it to --"

You lean in for one more slow kiss to shut him up, he groans into it, "I want to."

Eddie gulps, looking up at you with a nod, "I'll um...I'll meet you upstairs."

He watches you get up and head towards the small spiral staircase, his mind buzzing a mile a minute. He collects the glasses and puts them in the fridge for later, cleaning up a bit while his hands nearly shake with nerves and excitement. Just as he's about to make it up the stairs he sees his phone start to buzz on the coffee table. Steve.

And normally he never does this, but for the first time in months he clicks 'Ignore' before heading up the stairs behind you.

You undress after him, trying not to gape at his body, trying to ignore the way it drives you insane. His tattoos dance with each move of his waist and arms, each flex of his thighs. He takes his time making his way over to the bed, sliding the throw to the floor when he sits on the edge of it to watch you.

Your dress comes off slow -- he beckons you forward to stand between his thighs. Neither of you speak while he cups your breasts in his hands, squeezing softly. You let out a quiet sigh when his lower lip drags against the top curve, pressing into a kiss. Moving to the next to take a nipple into his mouth, wet tongue sliding over it while his thumb teases the other.

Your hand reactively reaches for his head, pleasure starting as a line up your neck and down to your pelvis -- a whimper coming out of you involuntarily. He gives a final flick of his tongue before pulling your underwear down to your knees, letting them fall to your ankles. He looks up with a smile and a kiss to your lips, "Lay down for me."

He doesn't have to ask you twice, kicking kicking your panties off and sliding onto his bed. You lay back against the soft comforter and look up at him while he kneels over you, eyes gleaming while they take you in.

“Peach you’re…you gotta be fucking kidding me,” he lets out with an airy laugh. 

You look up at him while he lets his eyes roam over you again, suddenly self conscious. You cover some of your chest with your forearm, tucking in on yourself. 

“No, no baby,” he coaxes softly, “Show me, show me you.” 

You reluctantly release, it had been a while since you were fully naked in front of someone. You grimace when your arms fall back flat on the comforter, hands daintily laying just above your head. He bites his lower lip, the pink in his cheeks flushing to a soft red. His hands reach up to the sides of your rib cage, eyes on you for silent permission.

“Jesus,” he says under his breath. His hands slide down carefully, cascading into the dip of your waist and up over your belly. One finger tip traces a stretch mark just above your pelvis that you wished he hadn’t noticed — that you forgot you had. His hands continue their journey over your hips to the tops of your thighs — your body warm and welcoming to his touch. 

“You are gorgeous,” he whispers — partly to himself, partly to you. 

You lean up on your forearms and look down at yourself briefly, “Yeah? You think so?” 

“I uh – fuck –” he shakes his head in disbelief before leaning forward to kiss you, “I really think so.” 

His lips come in for a long peck, settling himself over your calves, forearms and biceps flexing while he leans on his hands to steady himself on the mattress. He breaks away to kiss your neck – gentle, only a few before placing one soft kiss to your chest – working his way downward. He kisses the pad of fat on the peak of your ribcage, down to your stomach, right over the stretch mark that you wish you’d forget about now. He kisses the other side of your belly, mouth and breath warm while he does, eyes blown like he’s mapping you out. 

You revel in the quiet, watching him savor you, adjusting to sit on his knees between your legs. He bends down like he’s praying, lips blessing the top of one of your thighs. He bends one of your legs up and out, kissing the inside of your knee. 

“Please,” you whisper down at him. He kisses the inside of your knee again, feeling your weight shift in the bed while you open your legs further. He looks down between your thighs, brows tilting in awe at the sight of you bared for him. 

“Push up on the bed a little, honey,” he instructs, so quietly you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t so close. If the rest of the apartment wasn’t so still. You slide up on the comforter while he adjusts the pillows behind you, “That’s good? You comfortable?” 

You nod breathlessly, his smile making you melt the more you see it in the light of his lamp in the corner. He kisses you again, hand reaching up behind your neck to pull you to him while you let his tongue into your mouth. It slides against yours with needy precision, wanting to get as close to you as possible while he does. When you part he lets out a shaky breath, nuzzling your nose. 

“You okay?” you press your forehead to his. 

“Yeah I’m just – I think I’m nervous,” he laughs, “You’re makin’ me nervous.” 

“Why’re you nervous?” you ask, pulling back to look at him. 

“I dunno. I guess I just,” he leans back, “I’m never normally thinking my way through it. At least I haven’t for a while.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Like I was just taking people home to fuck, then they’d leave,” he shrugs, “I’m like…I’m taking my time and I wanna make sure it’s like – the best sexual experience you’ll ever have.” 

“Sexual experience,” you repeat back in a tease, he puffs out a breath with a roll of his pretty brown eyes. 

“I’m trying to be meaningful here,” he asserts, “M’trying to like – make love to you.” 

You giggle again at ‘make love’ but cover your mouth, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I’m not making fun of you. That’s very sweet, Ed.” 

He tinges an embarrassed pink and settles back on his knees, hands running through his hair. 

“Baby,” you soothe, coming up to smooth your hands over his shoulders, “I’m sorry. I promise I’m not trying to make you feel silly or embarrassed. I’m nervous, too.” 

“Baby…” he repeats back, a boyish grin pulling up on his lips, “I’m not a baby.” 

“Yeah you are,” you nod, kissing his cheek, “You’re such a baby.” 

“Thought I was an old man,” he says, that blushy grin still plastered on his face. 

“You can be both.” You lay back against the pillows, watching him take a settling breath before coming back down to meet you for another taste of warm kisses. He lets himself press a loving kiss to your cheek before dipping down to leave intentional kisses down your sternum, following his map from your rib cage to your belly, the top of your thigh, the inside of your knee. Neither of you speak when he kisses the inside of your thigh, letting him part you right before his tongue starts to flick dutifully over your clit. 

Your quiet gasp makes his eyes flutter closed, feeling you settle down into the pillows while his lips open over you, nose resting on the pudge of your mound. His tongue works steadily, working you while your legs bend and creep upwards, thighs to your chest. One hand reaches up to squeeze the inside of one, spreading you apart a little further for him. You feel the warmth of the back of his head as he leans to the side against your thigh, tongue dragging up over and over before moving right back to center. 

“More,” you sigh out, starting to whimper, hips reacting to each flutter of his tongue. He start to suckle, eyes flicking up at the sound of your voice. He nods while he works, one hand coming up to slide a finger in either ease – he’s not surprised. 

“Oh!” you squeak out, the little quake in your thighs makes him huff a laugh. 

“Does this feel good?” he asks against your skin. He kisses your other thigh why he waist for an answer. You nod down at him, breaths picking up while his finger dips slowly in and out. 

“S’really good,” you slur out, the tingle in your belly rising to an electric buzz. 

“D’you like getting eaten out?” he asks, starting again. His middle finger pushes in with his index this time with mild resistance. 

“Hmmm-yes,” you breathe out at the slight stretch, feeling him hook into you once his fingers push the hilt. You push up on your forearms and then your hands, the pleasure making you dizzy while you look down at him. 

“Don’t stop,” you whisper. He obliges, head down and determined, sucking and teasing, the soft flick of his tongue getting you closer and closer. His fingers pulse, pushing in and in and in, the pads of his fingers pressing on your core that makes heat run through you. You aren’t sure if you’re numb with pleasure or you’re flooding over his finger, the buzz is becoming overwhelming. Your heart hammers, his fingers working in a controlled steady rhythm – too grown to know that when a girl’s about to cum you don’t speed up, you stay the course.

“ShhhitI’mgonnacum – ohmigodI’mgonnacum.” 

His lips break away from your clit as you start to come undone, a smirk prevalent on his face when he leans in to kiss you through it. You moan so loud into his mouth it’s almost a cry – a prayer to God that you make it out with all your senses. 

He feels the gush of your release over his first and middle finger, leaking plentifully into his comforter. He smiles when he breaks away from you — soft kisses on your cheeks while you shiver.

You flop flat on your back with a deep breath, shutting your eyes while you push air out of O shaped lips. 

“You okay?” his low gravelly voice settling in your chest. You nod, a little hazy, shifting over a wet spot under your limp thighs.  “Ugh.”

“It’s okay,” he assures, knowing that you can feel what you left behind. He squeezes your calf with a soft chuckle, “Just a lil’ mess, baby. D’y’need a minute?” 

You nod, another deep breath, peeking through your heavy lids to watch him stretch over you while he clicks on another light. The sconces above his bed glow golden and soft above the both of you, glinting against his silver jewelry like a fire. Eddie’s form shifts the mattress when he lays next to you, rough palm smoothing over the top of your stomach to the opposite dip in your waist. 

“That was uh…” 

“Yeah…”

You lay there with each other, eventually finding the strength to move onto your side to face him. He’s confident now that you came, more sure of himself – he knows he can make you do it again. 

“Don’t give me that look,” you chide. 

He giggles darkly, face splitting smile pulling his cheeks up, “M’not giving you a look.” 

“You are giving me a look.” 

“M’just…you know – It’s always good to know you still got it,” he shrugs, falling onto his back. He tucks his hands behind his head, elbows splayed out on either side, biceps flexing, “And I still got it.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you still got it old man,” you laugh, tucking yourself under his arm so that your head lays on his chest. You look down the expanse of him, fingertip tracing one of his tattoos that flows down to his lower stomach. His cock twitches, kicking up at the gentle touch so close to his pelvis. You let out a soft hum when one of his arms comes down to wrap around you, kiss pressed to the top of your head. You tilt up, noses brushing while your fingers still trace, searching lower until the scratch of stubble from week old manscaping finds you. 

You kiss him first, moving out from under his arm, propping yourself up on your elbow while you guide him. He grunts out a low groan when your hand finally wraps around his cock, offering him steady strokes, giving him a type of relief he’s deeply needed this past month and some change. It’s not long before his fingers wrap around your wrist to put you back on the mattress, hard and leaking, desperate to be inside you. Your eyes linger on it while he leans over to grab a condom from his bedside table drawer, he smirks while he rolls it on. 

“Ready?” he asks, cocky, tossing the foil packaging off the bed. You nod hurriedly, grinning while he props your hips up under a couple of his pillows. 

Another kiss and he’s parting your legs again, fingers sinking into the fat of the back of one of your thighs while he guides himself down the slick slit of your core. He goes slow, tip teasing your clit before sliding down to your entrance. He’s concentrating, but he still flicks his eyes up at you beneath his feathered bangs before starting to push. 

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

He eases in, you feel the stretch immediately, legs springing up tight towards your chest. One, two, three short even thrusts before you’re slick enough to accommodate him. He pushes in slowly, both of you sighing in pleasure when he splits you open to the hilt, your legs parting further. His other hand meets your lonely thigh, gripping tight while he starts at a steady rhythm, head lolling back for a moment then coming back to center.  

“Baby…” he starts, a growl of a grunt coming from his chest, “You – oh, honey – you feel so good, so — oh fuck...” 

You can only respond with choked ‘uhn! uhn! uhn!’s at every thrust, the head of his cock plunging deep at this angle, nearly brushing your cervix. His kiss is welcomed when he lets go of your legs to lean forward over you, propping himself up on one forearm, hand  on your cheek. 

“That’s good? This feels good?” he pants into your mouth. 

“Mhm,” you whine, “You’re so deep.” 

“I know,” he coos, “M’really deep. You like that?” 

“Yeah,” you squeak when his thrusts become intentionally strong and slow. 

“Feelin’ me?” he asks, tip of his nose running along your cheek, forehead against your temple. You nod, groaning while he continues, holding his hips in place after every plunge into your core. His cologne and scent of his hair products blend together in a dark spice that makes your mouth water, eyes fluttering closed when you hear his breaths become gravelly – each one its own growl. You can barely think, your mind’s not able to keep up with the pleasure of where his cock keeps hitting, how full you feel, where his free hand wanders, how he kisses your neck. In the haze you realize that he likes this, he likes being in control. 

Your body bounces against his hips when his thrusts start to pick up in speed, not fast like a jackhammer, but fast enough that the buzz in your belly becomes a vibrant hum. He gives you a final sloppy kiss on the neck and then the lips before leaning back up for more leverage, gripping your waist just above the flare of your hips. 

“Look at me,” he huffs out, more of a command than a suggestion. Your heart rate quickens at the sound, bark and bite while his fingertips squeeze you. Your eyes snap to his like magnets, like when you first kissed after your date in the park. 

“God,” he groans, “S-so – fuck – pretty.” 

His next thrust hits a spot that makes you see white, a whimper choking out of your throat. You grab his wrist, whining, “Ohmygod there, right there.” 

“There?” he teases softly, slowing down to slowly drag his cock in and out. He hits it again at an achingly low speed this time, but the pleasure is just as delicious. 

“Yes, yes right there – please,” you don’t even know what you’re saying please for, what you’re asking. You just need to feel this, you need him to get you there. He quickens his pace, the slick and sloppy sounds of skin hitting skin and ragged breaths disrupting the quiet of the room. Tears pool in your eyes in pleasure while you cry out, back arching into each snap of his hips. 

“More, more, more,” like a chanting prayer flows out of you, spurring him on. His heart thumps in his chest while he looks down at you, your face contorted, the way your breasts bounce. He resists the urge to reach down and clamp over your neck when you bare it to him, pushing yourself against the pillows. He busies himself by gripping your thighs again in a bruising hold, holding steady at a pace that clearly feels great for you but feels amazing for him. Eddie bites his lip, the sight and sound of you sending him reeling. He’s getting close, hips starting to stutter while your walls loosen a bit to accommodate him further, you’re already soaking his pelvis – you’re gonna cum, he can feel it. 

You can feel all your sounds in your throat, kneels pulling together as the vibrant hum in your lower belly becomes a vibration. He doesn’t stop, grunting and huffing like a bull with each thrust while he tries to hold back. He pulls your knees apart to make space for him, chest to chest while he pumps in a little bit faster. Eddie’s mouth takes yours hungrily, greedily while he lets out an aching moan. 

“Fuck – fuck - shit,” he growls, eyes clamped closed while your noses rest against each other. He keeps going, fucking you through his orgasm despite his shaking arms. At this position he can adjust to go a little deeper, and when he does you gush. He keeps going, feeling the pulses of your walls over his cock, a confident grin puffing out tired breaths. 

You grip his biceps when he does one final hit that sends you over the edge, thighs and hips shaking when he does. You feel it in your whole body, goosebumps rising like you can’t handle it, back nearly aching in an arch that settles back down. Your moan turns into a cry – a real cry. You shudder while your body comes down, tears pouring down your cheeks and you can’t quite get yourself to settle down. 

“Oh, honey no, did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Eddie swallows, voice back to soothing comfort while he eases up, “What’samatter? Did you not like it?” 

You wipe your eyes but the tears still come, you shake your head no. Embarrassed from blubbering you try to cover your face but he smooths your hands away, “What’s wrong, Peach? Please talk to me. Was that too much? Was I too rough?” 

“N-no,” you laugh a little, “Sorry, this is r-ridiculous. I’m – m’okay.” 

“You don’t look okay,” he says. He settles on his calves, easing you up to sitting – with some coaxing he gets you straddled in his lap. The exhaustion from your orgasm distracts you from the stickiness between your thighs, the uncomfortable wetness leftover between your legs. You feel sleepy and soggy. 

“Did I do something?” he asks again, hands cupping your cheeks while his thumbs swipe away oncoming tears. 

“N-no it was ju-just really intense,” you swallow and cough, another sob racking through you, “J-just came really hard.” 

He nods, looking at you intensely, “Do you just want me to hold you?” 

You nod back and without a second though he pulls you tight into him, bringing you both back down sideways on the mattress. He lets you let it out, running the backs of his fingers along your back until you start to calm down, sobs shuddering down into sharp breaths, to normal ones, to slow. 

“A little better?” he asks, quiet and sweet. You nod with your eyes closed, cheek squished against the comforter. Eddie smiles, easing the condom off his now softened shaft and tossing it in the bin under his night stand. He soothes you for a while, sitting on the side of you and running his palms over your back and thighs, over your calves, selfishly over the swell of your ass. He puts pressure on your lower back, between your shoulder blades, the top of your neck. 

“This is really nice,” you croak out, feeling the warmth of his hands cascade gently over you. 

“Sometimes it’s nice to just get worshiped, huh?” 

You nod again, breaths steady, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah,” he confirms, “You deserve it, don’t you?” 

“I do,” you smile. 

“That’s my girl,” he coos. My girl, my girl, my girl. 

It echoes through the both of you, the declaration – the claim, but neither of you say anything.In fact at this point, it looks like you might’ve fallen asleep. 

Eddie takes the throw that had been pushed to the floor and covers you up for now, he’ll wake you later for pajamas and water and a snack. For now he figures you should just rest, you look so cute like this – all worn out ‘cause of him. He quietly slips on a pair of socks and gray sweats and pads his way downstairs to make you something, swiping up his phone to see two missed messages from Steve on his screen. 

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago Did you just bitch button me? 

Big Guy💪👔 37m ago What the fuck?

Big Guy💪👔 36m ago Photo notification. 

Eddie rolls his eyes, opening his phone to his texts. His eye roll stops when the picture of Bandit curled up on his bed by the sliding door pops up. Eddie said the bed was way too big for him, but Steve insisted he’d grow into it. 

Eddiesorry dude, i was busy. u around? 

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Taking Bandit on a night walk. You okay? You have a show tonight? 

EddieNah.  🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago Hell yeah dude 😎 Congrats! 

Eddiethanks man.just putting something together for her for when she wakes up.

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago fucked her to sleep lol 

Eddie gotta change my middle name to nyquil 😎

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago so it was good huh? 

Eddie i’ll tell you all the horny details tomorrow but honestly dude? i might end up loving this one. 

He wakes you up later leaving gentle kisses on your forehead, set of his comfy clothes in his hand for you, “Made you a little snack downstairs, you hungry?” 

You stretch, nodding, feeling a dull ache in your hips and inner thighs. You frown when he eases the throw off of you, forcing you to stand up and get dressed. Eddie’s scent is prevalent on his clothes, enveloping you again when he does the same with his arms. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you assure, looking up at him, “Now, don’t get a big head about this or anything – but that was easily some of the best sex I’ve had in my life.” 

He lets go of you, shrugging with a smile and tilt of his head, “What can I say? I –” 

“I said don’t get a big head,” you warn, stifling a giggle, “Don’t you go around bragging about it either.” 

“Okay, okay, I won’t, I promise,” he holds his hands up, leading the way down the stairs. 

“Not even Steve.” You follow him down, body taking over to lead you to the snacks he laid out on the counter of the island. 

“Not even Steve,” he repeats, picking up his phone again. 

Eddie she just told me that this was the best sex she’s ever had in her life lol i’m the fucking man

Big Guy💪👔 0m ago you da man 😎

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#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fluff #older!eddie #older!eddie munson

[katsukikitten]

Tw:noncon

Deku’s taking the naked pictures and videos he took of you, and the selfies he stole from your tapped phone and posting them on an Only Fans account he’s set up for you. Telling everyone it’s his girlfriend, and that you gave him permission— but he keeps all the ones you filmed of you touching yourself for himself like the sick perv he is. And what’s worse is he deletes them from your phone memory almost immediately because he knows you’re going to send them to some guy that doesn’t deserve you.

But because he deletes so many videos and photos you take you start to think the phone is broken, and you want to contact the seller to tell him but you’re scared to tell him it’s only the dirty photos and videos that disappear— because that sounds crazy doesn’t it?

Oh MY GOD JO YES

He loves the little moans you make when your fingers are touching that pretty cunt of yours. How you never moan a man's name and just make those sounds that have his cock hard and weeping pre in a matter of seconds. Knowing your body so well that he knows when to whisper cum and as if you hear him you do before he's painting his big scarred fist in his own sticky seed.

The OF page is blowing up, people love your body and the way you arch when you're using toys that pale in comparison to Izuku's fat cock. They love how you're a mostly faceless star and the only way anyone can tell it's the same woman in the photos and short videos of you creaming around a toy are the small golden ring on your pinkie finger and the necklace that spells out princess.

The deletion of the dirty photos and videos you've been taking is starting to really bother you, making you wonder why it's happening. He couldn't be doing this right? He was so kind and his smile was so warm and inviting, maybe it's some weird glitch?

And so you decide to ask the seller to take a look, leaving out a few important details of course.

Hey Izuku, you sold and set up this phone for me a couple of months ago but it's starting to act weird. It's deleting random photos and videos I've taken like right after I take them and I think it's deleting apps. 🥺 Can you help me?

#tw non con #PLEASE JO OMG I AM DYING OVER THESE THOUGHTS

[soft4gguk]

no longer strangers | jjk

Description: jungkook x inexperienced!reader, strangers to lovers, summer love au, jk’s a photography major <3

Content: pwp. 18+

Word Count: 9.4k

Warnings: sweet, soft, loving and lots of kissing, oral (m. receiving), fingering, dirty talk, sweet talk, oc's inexperienced and jungkook talks her through it, fingering, unprotected sex (be smart).

Author’s Note: I had a dream about something that went kind of like the way this story goes :) it felt so summer and sweet I had to write away... so here it is, hope u enjoy! please let me know if u do x ily <3

★ masterlist ★

This is a work of fiction. Please respect the members and their privacy. x

no longer strangers

The sun touches everything in its wake, merciless even as dusk threatens to fall.

“It’s melting,”

“Huh?”

“Your lolly,” Alex says.

“Oh,”

You make quick work of your reflexes, lips closing around your thumb as they catch the zesty flavour of the lemon ice cream that melts over your skin. The summer heat works faster though, the juices dripping down your wrist, sugary thickness coating the single gold chain you’ve worn around it since you’ve had memory. 

Too focused on cleaning the sticky mess, your eyes divert from the crowd of people ahead, suddenly startled when you look up and your friends are out of sight – nothing but strangers taking up your line of vision. Some don’t spare you a glance, others look exasperated, trying to walk past you as your steps falter slightly.

You almost miss it – the gaze of one stranger in particular, a fateful chance threatening to get lost amongst many. But fate says you won’t, and your eyes meet his. It’s for a brief second at first, what makes up a heartbeat, but it’s so pulling you can’t help but glance back, your frantic eyes looking for his. Why? you don’t know, but when they finally meet, you don’t question it much either. 

You don’t smile, just stand in place for a second that feels an eternity long as you look at him. He glances back too, the ghost of a timid smile forming on his lips that you can’t quite make up amidst the chaos Saturday nights bring to your small town, tourists filling the narrow streets, markets overflowing, restaurants packed. The signs of summer paint the white walls in screaming color and just like that, he’s out of sight. 

“There you are!” Jimin says, his hand closing around your wrist and wincing at the stickiness that touches him. 

You look at him, slightly puzzled, but then return the relieved smile that adorns his face. 

“Sorry, got distracted.”

“It’s way too packed in here,” Alex says, looking around as if contemplating her next move. “Should we just get some food and head back home?”

“Yeah, let’s eat outside, make the most of the daylight.” Jimin adds.

It takes the three of you a while to settle on what to eat, and once you all agree that pizza is the universally loved choice, you make your way to the family-owned restaurant you’ve been frequenting since you were children. It’s a small, take-away only place that feels to you like a local’s treasure – never too packed with tourists this time of year, familiar and delicious. You don’t have to browse through the menu when you get there, the warm smile behind the counter way too familiar with your order by now, making small chat as you all hunt for cash in your bags and pockets until you make up the total and pay her. She says the pizza will be ready in thirty minutes and with that, you’re back to killing time. 

You walk through the markets, aimlessly browsing through the stalls and artisan shops, making small talk with the vendors that also happen to be neighbours and old family friends. 

Your fingers skim through the soft cotton fabric of a pretty white dress that hangs neatly on one of the racks, eyeing the details, the pretty embroidered flowers at the hem and on the thin straps. You’re lost in your own world once again, so much so that you barely hear Alex’s voice when she says,

“Are you like, following us or something?” 

Jimin’s eyes widen in shock and a bit of embarrassment and when you turn around you can see that he’s blushing, and when your eyes follow his line of vision they widen too, cheeks warming up and tinting a pretty shade of red. 

“Uh… n-no, no, of course not.” The boy’s deep voice answers back, visibly flustered by her straightforwardness. 

Next to him is the stranger. Your stranger. 

Alex eyes him for a second, deciding whether she believes him or not. She sees no menace in his soft eyes so she gives, “fine. It’s just that this is the third time we bump into you two… and tourists can be little creeps at times.”

He raises his hands up in defeat, giving her a warm smile before he says, “no creepy behaviour taking place here. Just two lost boys in a very small town.”

“Oh, are you lost?” Jimin asks.

“No, not really… just out of things to do. I’m Taehyung, by the way, and this is my friend Jungkook.” 

Jungkook is his name, your stranger’s name, though now you know his name so you reckon he doesn’t hold the title of stranger anymore. 

“Alex,” she introduces herself, turning to her sides as she says, “This is Jimin, and this is ___.”

“It’s nice to meet you guys,” Taehyung says, turning to his friend and giving him a look that makes Jungkook shoot a smile your way. 

Jimin smiles, ever so social. “What are you guys doing here anyways? There’s nothing exciting about this town.” 

“Ah, but it is beautiful. We’re photography majors, you see,” he points at the camera that hangs around his neck. It’s only now that you notice Jungkook holds one, too. “It’s picture perfect, only we’ve photographed about every corner there is.” 

“Hah, I’m sure that’s not entirely true, if you’re anything like these tourists.” Alex retorts.

“Regardless, we need subjects,” at this she frowns, not really following. “What do you guys do for fun?”

“This.” Alex opens her arms, as if presenting the boy with the world. 

Jimin, on the other hand, is in a much friendlier mood. “Actually… there is one place…”

Taehyung will not admit that he was hoping he’d say that. Neither will he admit that even though they weren’t necessarily following you guys, he was slightly pulled by your little trio, not able to help himself as he kept gravitating towards you. He’ll even confess that having Alex approach him first, even as ominously as she did, felt thrilling. Like their first fix of excitement in days, he couldn’t help but be drawn in immediately, even as he felt Jungkook grow more nervous by the minute the longer he stood behind him. 

“Oh?” He feigns a little indifference, but Jimin can see the glimmer in his eyes.

“Where exactly are you talking about?” Alex turns to him, narrowing her eyes at the blonde boy that’s way too busy shooting glimmering gazes back at what he already considers his new friend. 

“Are you guys up for a walk? And some pizza…” 

“We’ve got a car, actually.” Taehyung says.

“Even better, then. Let’s go.”

Alex rolls her eyes, but can’t help it when a smile adorns her features, already feeling that excitement bubbling up inside of her because she knows exactly where Jimin is taking them. You know, too, never one to have much of a say in things, for no other reason than liking to go with the flow, preferring the spontaneity that comes from sitting back and enjoying whatever ride lays ahead. So, you simply follow. 

You pick up the pizza, still scolding hot in your palms even through the green and red box that holds it. The smell is almost intoxicating as you make your way a couple of streets down until you reach their car, one you recognize in a heartbeat. The beat up, white jeep that you’ve personally never seen without the top down, rain or shine, is one you’re, once again, familiar with. 

Alex recognizes it, too, and soon enough she’s saying, “why are you driving Mrs. Kim car?” 

Taehyung chuckles at this, opening the passenger’s door to let her in, amused by her hesitancy to step inside the car. 

“That’s because Mrs. Kim is my aunt.”

“Shit, no way?” Jimin muses. 

“Yup. She’s away on vacation right now… a lifelong dream of visiting Portugal has finally come to fruition, so I’m house sitting. And dog sitting. And plant sitting. Oh, and I brought Jungkook along with me, of course.”

“I hope you’re doing a good job – your aunt has the most beautiful garden. It’s like this town’s treasure.”

“Oh, Jungkook’s in charge of the garden, actually. He talks to the plants and everything.”

You can see the way Jungkook’s cheeks flush, timid eyes glued to the ground as he lets out a little huff, dismissing his friend. 

You find yourself in the backseat, sat right in the middle with Jimin to your left and Jungkook to your right. You still can’t manage glances his way, too embarrassed, wondering if he recognized you from before. You were slightly certain he did, all too aware you were probably gawking at the poor boy that seems to match your timidness, or worse, double it. 

“Everyone buckled up back there?” Taehyung glances at you through the rear-view mirror and you offer him a thumbs up. “Alright! Where to?”

“Drive, Mr. Photographer. I’ll lead the way. But before I do, you have to keep a promise.” Alex says.

“What promise?”

“More than a promise, a secret.”

“A secret?” He yells, the wind picking up and muffling everything around you.

“Yes! Trust us, you’ll want to keep it!” Jimin adds.

“Fine,” he says. “I promise to keep the secret.”

You all laugh, not quite sure at what or why, perhaps simply enjoying the simplicity of the fateful encounter.

Enjoying the ride.

~

Jungkook sees it now, why this was worth a vow to secrecy. He’s wide eyed as they climb up the hill, the sky feeling a lot closer to him the more they get closer to the top. The blue hues above begin to tint yellow – golden. It’s perfect. The light, the green of the grass, the treasure that stands by his feet when they make it up. 

The pool is old, rusty around the edges with fallen leaves adorning the blue water. It’s oddly placed at the top of a hill, well-hidden by the deserted location and the tall tree that shades its rounded corner. He reckons that if he were really high up, it’d be a blue dot amongst a sea of green. 

“Woah,” is all he can say when you come to a stop, forming a half circle yourselves as you take it all in.

“This is our spot. This is what we do for fun.” Alex says, matter-of-factly.

“We don’t know where it came from, or why it’s just… here. But ever since we found it, we’ve been taking care of it. Kinda,” Jimin chuckles, taking in the state of the water that’s covered in fallen green leaves. 

“When did you find it?” Taehyung asks, taking a couple of test shots.

“It was our junior year of high school…,” you say, speaking for the first time. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you, cheeks heating up at the mere notion. “We weren’t allowed to go this far out back then so it felt rebellious. There was nothing thrilling about said rebellion so we climbed this hill to watch the sunset and… this found us instead.”

“It’s not much. But it’s ours.” Alex chimes in.

“So,” Taehyung starts, turning to the three of you. “Wanna be our subjects?”

“You wanna photograph us?” You can hear the shock in Jimin’s voice when he says this.

“Yeah, why not? It’s your spot anyways. We’ll keep the location anonymous if we ever were to publish, but as of now, it’s mostly for fun. You in?”

“And what would you exactly photograph?” Alex asks.

“Well, what do you normally do when you’re here?” 

She eyes Taehyung, a bit hesitant to answer his question in fear that it won’t be as thrilling as he’d hope for. 

“We swim, watch the sunset… eat pizza, talk about everything and nothing at all. Not much, it’s not really-”

But Taehyung doesn’t let her finish. “It’s perfect.”

She doesn’t give herself too much time to think about it, giving a small nod before she’s removing her top and denim shorts, leaving her in a pair of lacey black underwear. You can tell Jungkook and Taehyung are surprised by her bold actions, but neither you or Jimin bat an eye at this, already well accustomed to her wild nature. 

She plunges into the water, a perfectly executed dive Jungkook wishes he would’ve captured, slightly puzzled and suddenly slow in his movements as he tries to wrap his head around her bold actions. Alex is a beautiful girl, and she has a spark to her that’s hard to miss – mysterious, siren eyes and a witty mind, all contrasting and fascinating at the same time. 

This is all enticing, yes, but what has Jungkook’s mind in a frenzy is you. The stranger that he locked eyes with in the busy street just short of an hour prior to this. 

You’re beautiful, in ways that he can’t yet read but that pull him in like nothing has ever before. He thinks he might be exaggerating the idea of you, so he takes a quick glance in your direction and quickly enough, this thought is dismantled. 

Your eyes are soft, much like your face that’s framed in your silky long hair, half of which is lazily but delicately being held back by a white ribbon, some stray strands dancing in the wind. And then you laugh at the way Jimin follows Alex’s steps right away, t-shirt and shorts joining her pile and meeting the same fate as he not so graciously jumps into the water. It’s barely there, but he hears the soft chuckle that leaves you, his heart tightening at the sound. 

He wonders if you’ll join them – fuck, he wishes you would. You’re wearing a white dress that ends at your thighs, dancing dangerously with the wind and when Jungkook’s eyes give in and he lets them fall to your legs, the soft fabric rides up and he can make up the perfect curve of your ass. 

“Are you jumping in?” Taehyung asks you cautiously, making guilt settle upon Jungkook at his indecent stare just now. 

“I’m not… I mean, I want to. I’m just not wearing the right clothes underneath.” You blurt it out all at once, yet you manage to make it sound innocent. 

“That’s totally fine, don’t even worry about it-”

But Alex interrupts Taehyung’s rambles. “Come on, ___!”

“What, did you go commando today? That’s bold of you!” Jimin teases.

You roll your eyes at him. “No. I’m not wearing a bra, that’s all.”

“Who cares,” Alex says, splashing water your way, the droplets hitting your knees and refreshing you against the scolding sun, making you crave nothing more than being embraced by the cold water like them. “Plus, Jungkook and Taehyung are professionals.” She half mocks, half states.

No, they’re not, rambles Jungkook’s mind in franticness, already fearing for his sanity at the prospect of seeing you half naked. 

But then again, yes, they are. They’ve photographed nude subjects before – this wouldn’t be the first, nor would it be the last. So, he can’t do anything other than join Taehyung in reassurance as he nods at you. 

“She’s right. I mean, if you’re uncomfortable that’s totally understandable, though. Don’t worry about it.” The older boy says, a warm smile adorning his face.

You want to ponder on it, want to give it a second thought – well aware that’s in your very nature to question everything, to be careful and meticulous about things that are foreign to you. This one very much is, not only foreign, but scary. 

And perhaps it’s that easiness that comes with the season, or the way you can feel a bead of sweat fall over your temple. Perhaps it’s the fact that there’s eyes on you right now you’d very much like to impress, leave an indent on, because you’re certain he’s left one on you and it’s only fair, isn’t it?

And so, with that, your mind is set. Trembling fingers reaching for the hem of your dress, gripping the fabric tightly as you pull it over your body, discarding of it carelessly by your feet and bringing your hands over your chest in attempt to cover some of you, slightly regretful as the thrill begins to fade.

But it’s to no avail, because Jungkook’s eyes travelled down your every movement, took in every inch of your body that you revealed second by devastating second. The soft, tan skin of your legs, the white cotton of your panties, the small bow below the hem. The more he takes you in, the harder it feels to breathe, not even mustering enough strength to quieten down his thoughts because the dimples in your back give way to every single inch of your skin he wants to touch. Perky breasts at eye sight for a second before you’re pushing the flesh up with your hands around your body, making him crave you more even though he knows this is not your intention. He looks away, not wanting to make you uncomfortable any further. 

“Are you gonna come in or are you gonna give us a show?” Alex says.

“Shut up.”

It’s the last thing you say before you’re diving right in, a little less graciously due to your nerves, but nonetheless world stopping to Jungkook who perceives you as nothing but delicate – like the finest of Chinas, shiny porcelain that would feel fragile in his fingers. But he wants to touch nonetheless. 

“So,” Jimin eyes them for a second. “What are you waiting for?” 

And at that, they start shooting. Golden hour turns everything it touches into ethereal yellow, and the blue of the pool moves in tandem with the wind and your bodies. You know you should act casual, let them work on the three of you like you’re subjects, merely an image to photograph, but you’ve never felt more human than you do right now. 

You begin to get used to your nakedness, the goosebumps that first adorned your skin at the first hit of the cold water fading away with your nerves. Alex fixes your hair and adjusts your ribbon, playing with the loose strands of hair that fall on your face. She’s tender when she wants to be, especially with you, a soul so contrasting to hers. She tells you you look pretty and you smile at her. Taehyung gets the shot, transfixed in the scene in front of him, hoping he got it right. 

Jimin is gracious, swimming like a fish in water, the dancer in him shining through every swift movement of his body. Jungkook photographs him the most, not trusting himself at doing a good job if he were to signal his lens your way – afraid he won’t do you justice, knowing his shaky fingers would give out on him. But in fear of losing the moment, he steals glances, lets his eyes roam freely for a second too long. When yours lock on his, you smile. It still holds that shyness you carry, but it’s sincere, perhaps even comfortable… warm. 

The sun begins to set slowly, painting the sky in pink and orange, covering everything that touches it in beauty. Jungkook wishes he could capture more than just images, but feelings and sounds and the velvet of your voice when you tell Jimin to look at the sky. 

“Why don’t you guys come in? There’s a shallow end, you could get up-close shots.” Alex suggests.

“That’d be cool. It’s so fucking hot, that water looks so good right now.” Taehyung places his camera on the floor for a second before he begins to undress. 

Jungkook doesn’t let himself think about it for too long and follows in his steps. You’re trying not to look – well, that’s a lie. You’re looking and can’t seem to stop yourself from doing so, but you at least try not to gawk at the boy. The boy who becomes more of a man the more clothes he discards – toned and perfectly proportioned, intricate art adorning his arm from shoulder to knuckles. You try to make up the designs, the words, letting your mind wonder what they all mean, the stories they tell… what they say about him. You want to know more of him. 

They come in carefully, firm grip on the expensive equipment. Alex and Jimin catch Taehyung’s eyes – something about his elegance merging so well with her untamed nature. He begins to shoot right away, capturing their interaction, a conversation in whispers that break the spell the moment their boisterous laughs follow along. Taehyung can’t help but laugh, too, even though he’s pretty sure he was the subject of their humour. He doesn’t care, he's too hypnotized by them to care. 

The pull is stronger than his nerves, and so Jungkook finds himself walking over to you. Your forearms rest on the edge of the pool, cheek pressed against your damp flesh as you take in the sunset. He can’t see your face but his mind paints a picture of you, and in his imagination your irises reflect the view in an unrealistic way. 

You hear him approaching, the water moving around you in small waves, and when you turn around, he’s closer than you’d imagined he’d be.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your arms wrap around your front reflexively, feeling timid at his proximity but not one bit uncomfortable. 

“May I?” He nods at his camera as he asks.

You nod. “I’m not very good at posing, though…”

He lets out a soft laugh. “You don’t need to pose.”

“How do you want me then?”

He has to collect his thoughts for a moment, your innocent question leaving him at a loss of words. “H-however you want. You can just… look at me.”

“Into your eyes or at the lens?”

“My eyes.” He answers, even though he knows he should’ve said the lens. He doesn’t care – he’d sacrifice the craft and rules for a moment that feels more like art than any of the photographs he’s shot. 

And so, you look into his eyes, the same way you did in that crowded street, with that same glimmer of curiosity shining in them, only now he’s not a stranger anymore – at least not entirely. You let your hands fall to your sides and feel the way you blush when his gaze drops to your chest. When he looks back in the view finder, he sees the pretty pink that’s shaded your cheeks. He smiles, a bit too cheekily, bunny teeth peeking through. You notice this and roll your eyes, mimicking the smile on his face.

“I thought you were a professional?” Your tone is light-hearted and only makes him smile further. 

He lowers his camera, beautiful face coming into view. “I’m weak for sunsets, sorry.”

You laugh. “Ah, yes… aren’t we all.” 

You look up slightly, taking in the view and there it is. The shot. He makes quick work of his fingers and he looks back at the picture he’d just taken, convinced that nothing would ever compare to this one. You glow, golden like the sun and saying things with your eyes he wishes he could decipher. The soft of your neck, your collarbones, breasts. Tiny droplets adorning your skin, falling over your tits, nipples halfway out of the water. You’re a dream. 

The sun sets slowly and then all at once, and soon enough the wind grows chilly and the night falls all around you. You all get dressed, wet bodies feeling slightly uncomfortable against the dry fabric, talking about how great of a place this is, how amazing the shots came out, how much of a summer day today has felt like. 

It’s no surprise that you don’t want it to end, and so when Jungkook and Taehyung suggest you come over to theirs, you all say yes in a heartbeat. 

The drive is pleasant, small talk ensuing in the car as soft music plays and you all let the wind dry your damp clothes and wet hairs. You sit next to Jungkook once again, the warmth radiating from his body becoming addicting by the second and tricking you into laying your inhibitions bare. You ask him about his tattoos and you can see it takes him aback, your chattiness all of a sudden, but nonetheless he recounts the story behind the ones he likes the most. 

Some are more intimate than others, some make you laugh, perfect examples of the impulses of youth, making you feel slightly envious that he can so freely express himself. Through the art he captures and the one he inks on his body. By the time the drive home is almost over, you can no longer call Jungkook a stranger. 

“Do you have any?”

“What, tattoos?” You ask.

“Yeah.”

“No. But I think yours are pretty.”

He laughs at your choice of words, finds it endearing and genuine. “Thank you.”

“What would you suggest?”

He wouldn’t, knows how personal tattoos can be, but nonetheless he says, “a sun. Or a bird… right in here,” he touches your wrist, soft digits skimming over your skin, playing with your bracelet for a second before he looks into your eyes once again. 

You chuckle, even though his touch feels electrifying against your flesh. “A bird? Isn’t that a little cliché?”

He frowns at this. “What’s wrong with clichés?”

And he’s right, because you’d fall into every single one at his very command. 

~

It’s cinematic almost, and you make mental notes of all the songs that have played in the course of the night because you’d like to imagine this would be a damn good scene in the movie that is your life, and your favourite scenes are usually accompanied by the perfect melodies. 

You’re all sitting by the fire, warmed up slices of leftover pizza being passed over between you along with some fancy white wine Taehyung took from the cellar, reassuring you that this was his aunt’s way of paying him back for house sitting. It’s the perfect summer night, the air hot but wind chilly, the fire keeping you warm and well illuminated against the stark of night. 

You sit a bit closer to it, making Jungkook nervous at times with your proximity to the fire, how you bring your hands closer to the flame to warm them up, letting your eyes dance in the blaze, as if it was hypnotizing you with its fiery oranges and blues. 

“What do you guys do?” Taehyung asks between mouthfuls of pizza. 

“I study dance, down in the city… left last year.” Jimin says.

“No way, invite us over sometime, we’d love to see you in action.” Jungkook tells him, having grown fond of the boy in the last couple of hours. 

“What about you two?” Taehyung turns to you and Alex, who sit side by side.

“I work in a restaurant,” Alex tells him. “I want to open my own someday… maybe here, maybe in the city. Only time will tell.”

“Fair. Do you cook?” 

“Baby, I’m a chef.”

And it’s true, she really is. 

Taehyung laughs at this, nodding his head in approval and telling her he’d look forward to a five-course meal from her. 

“What about you, ___?” It’s Jungkook who asks you, turning to look at you but you don’t look back at him, eyes still enthralled by the fire in front of you. 

“I help my parents out at the shop… and volunteer at the church when I’m not doing that. Nothing too interesting…” 

“Her parents own a bakery! Best pastries in town.” Jimin says, making you smile as he eases comfort into you. 

You’re not ashamed of where life took you, but you do wish you’d taken more chances. Pursued a career, worked harder on your paintings to apply for scholarships at a university, just like Jimin did. But the circumstances were slightly cruel, leaving you behind as the train of dreams passed you. 

“That’s dope, ___. Take us there one of these days?” Taehyung smiles as he says this.

“Sure, any time. On me.”

You finally look in his direction, and when you do, Jungkook smiles. It’s not pitiful, but kind. Curiosity dances around his eyes but you can tell it’s not judgemental – in fact, it reminds you a lot of the same curiosity you feel for him. Of how you wish his answers would last hours when you ask him a question, or that you could read every single glance he throws your way. 

You’re curious of what it would feel like to touch him confidently, get closer to him, run your fingers down the lines of his tattoos, his face, his lips. Curious as to what it would feel like to kiss him and make it last, to feel close to him physically and perhaps even emotionally. 

The night carries on like so, holding you in your dream-like and curious state, another bottle of wine being passed around that seems to heighten your senses the more liquid you pour into your cup, but it’s soft. It loosens you up a little, letting the moment embrace you fully, the music immersing you further into it as you bob your head and move your body along to the beat. 

You laugh at the way everybody seems to loosen up, cracking jokes as you all grow a little too comfortable around each other, growing closer as you all share anecdotes and bits of yourselves – growing closer as you lean into each other, sit closer to one another, fall into inside jokes and the seed of a memory you can already tell you’ll hold dear for years to come. 

“Wait, wait- let’s play truth or dare,” Jimin says, after Taehyung refuses to tell him the story of the night he disappeared for twelve hours and woke up tucked in bed back in his parents’ house without his phone, or pants… or recollection of the night, really. 

“Yeah! That way we’ll get it out of him one way or another.” Alex conspires along with him.

“Better – let’s play truth or drink. Can’t be fucked to get up and do dares.” Taehyung suggests, much to his despair as he knows he’ll eventually have to let his story come to light. 

“I’ll go get the tequila.” Jungkook gets up, about to make his way to the kitchen.

“Bring some salt and lemon wedges, too, Kookie please,” Taehyung shoots puppy eyes at him.

“Thinly sliced, prince Taehyung?” 

“Yes, Kookie, thank you,” he sing-songs the last word, making Jungkook roll his eyes at him, but it’s lovingly, you can tell. 

“I’ll help you.” You stand up before you can convince yourself to change your mind, or before you can dwell a little too much in how shocked Jungkook seems to be at your suggestion. 

You make your way to the kitchen in silence, the laughter and music fading away slightly the moment you enter the house. You can still see them through the big window by the sink, laughing at the little clique they’ve seemed to make, the scene playing in front of you like one you’d find in an epic coming-of-age movie. 

“I didn’t think I’d live to find someone flirtier than Taehyung, and now I met two of them.” You feel Jungkook’s voice coming from behind you, feel his body heat before he even speaks. 

“I love it.” Your eyes remain on them.

“Wonder where the night will take them…”

At this, you turn around. “What do you mean?”

He chuckles. “What do you think I mean?”

“You think they would…- you know,” you’re too shy to say it, and he smiles at this, can even see the way you blush in the dim lights of the kitchen.

“Why not?” 

His question takes you aback a little, not in a bad way, just in surprise. So far, Jungkook had matched your timidness, a tame nature to him that much reminded you of your own. You don’t know if its comfortability, familiarity or the alcohol but he seems to slowly be coming out of that shell. It entices you, amps up your curiosity, makes you want to match his sudden boldness. 

“Should we- um, slice the lemons?” 

You’re cute when you’re nervous, he can’t help but notice. He nods as his hand travels down, coming awfully close to your hip before it lands on the handle of the drawer that holds the cutlery. He opens it, retrieving a knife and handing it to you. 

“Let me get the lemons.”

You work in silence, slicing the wedges as he looks around for the bottle of tequila and the shot glasses, stacking them up before he gets some salt and scatters it over a plate, a little roughly, some spilling at the sides. He grabs some napkins to clean it up and then your voice startles him some. 

“Jesus Christ.” Now, you’re by no mean orthodox but you do feel a hint of blasphemy lace your words as the reaction of what you see when you glance out the window.

When Jungkook joins you by the sink, he lets out a chuckle, not one bit surprised at the sight that greets him. He knew the night would end with his friend and your friends tangled up in each other one way or the other, and as he sees Taehyung’s lips disconnect from Jimin’s and immediately fall into Alex’s, he knows he was right all along.

“Told you.” He whispers, right next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I wonder if we should still bring all of this out… maybe they’ll end up suggesting body shots, or something.”

“Body shots?” 

“Yeah. You don’t know what a body shot is?”

You turn around, shaking your head slightly. “Is it sexual?”

He ponders on your question for a minute. “Hm, yeah, a little.”

“Do it.” You say, looking into his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Do a body shot.”

He lets out a small laugh. “I’d need someone else to do it…”

“Like- me?” 

“Yeah, if you wanna.”

“Okay.”

He grabs one of the lemon wedges, bringing it closer to your mouth, his knuckles grazing your lips briefly to get you to open up for him, and when you do, he places it between your teeth. He smiles when you bite, sending flutters down your stomach. 

“Tilt your head to the side a little- yeah just like that,” he wets the spot on your neck with a bit of lemon juice, letting the salt flakes stick to your skin as he lets them fall from his fingers. 

He pours himself a shot of tequila, not looking forward to the burn but excited to feel your skin on his tongue. 

“Ready?”

You nod your head, eyes closing the moment he leans in, wet tongue licking up a stripe on the warm skin of your neck, tasting the saltiness on your flesh. It makes you whimper, goosebumps adorning your body, and sudden warmth taking over you as he looks into your eyes, bringing the shot glass to his lips and downing the clear liquid. He winces, a groan leaving his lips before he’s leaning in yet again, lips coming close to yours as you close your eyes. You wish he’d kiss you, but he plays fair, his teeth grabbing the lemon wedge and biting into it, lips touching yours slightly before he pulls away. 

It was minimal – the touch, but electrifying, and you want more.

“That’s a body shot.” 

“Odd name for it.” Is all your mind can manage at this moment. 

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I guess it is.”

You want him to kiss you. You want to feel his breath on yours again, the soft of his lips – you want more than what you just got, curiosity making you greedy. You want him to kiss you and so you let your unsettled heart act out its desire, and you kiss him. 

He lets out a little gasp against your lips, not really giving into them as he tries to make sense of your actions. But it takes him about a second to fall into you, to let his body completely melt into the kiss, leaning in and trapping you against the kitchen counter, hands coming down to cage you in. Your kiss is soft and he matches your pace, letting his lips get tangled between your pillowy ones. When you pull away, he leans back, too.

“I’m s-sorry, I should’ve not-”

“Please, let me kiss you again.” He cups your cheek, thumb grazing your bottom lip, doing what his tongue would if you only let him.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

And when he does, he sets the pace – still gentle, pacing it out, letting you grow comfortable with it, but the more you comply the further you send him into lust. Your body reacting to him as you press your chest against his, soft whimpers leaving your lips when his tongue grazes them, a gasp granting him entry as his tongue finds yours. You’ve never been kissed like this, and you’re glad you haven’t. You’re glad it was him who did it, because you can feel the way it transforms you. The shift between you, within you. It’s addicting, so tempting.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do this all day.” He says this between needy kisses. 

“Y-you have?” 

He holds you by the waist, one swift movement perking you up on the counter as you intuitively open your legs, letting him fall between them as you pull him closer. 

“Yeah. I have.”

“I guess me too,” you sound nervous, and his hand falls to your thigh, fingers running lazy circles over your skin to ease you. “I just didn’t think you’d want to.”

“Are you crazy? You’re beautiful. So, so beautiful, ___.”

You’re about to say thank you but he interrupts you in what you discover is the only way it should be done, his lips back on your lips, tongue finding yours, hand sneaking down your neck and into your long tresses of hair, still slightly damp at the neck. 

It grows heated – you don’t know much, but you know this. Can make up the way your body reacts to the way he kisses you, the way he touches you, subtly but fiery, passionate and determined and both your body and mind need more. 

“Jungkook,” your hands rest on top of his that lay at your thighs, inching ever so close to where you want him the most. 

“Tell me, baby.”

The pet name does it for you, all carefulness thrown out the window when you say, “can we- go somewhere else? More private?”

He wasn’t expecting that, content with being able to just kiss you, assuming that this was as far as it would go considering that you didn’t know what a body shot was until ten minutes ago, give or take. But he’s not complaining, smiling and nodding softly at you as he helps you down the counter. 

“Yeah, come on, let’s go.”

He holds your hand, intwining your fingers in his and it sends a troop of butterflies to your belly. The gesture is sweet, slightly contrasting to the way you want him to touch you – you wonder if there’s sweetness laced in his actions, no matter how crude. You’d hope there is, nerves bubbling up the closer you get to what you presume is his bedroom. 

The room is dark when you two enter, he closes the door behind him and for a minute, you two just stand there. He walks closer to you, his other hand tangling his fingers in yours. 

“We don’t have to do anything, you know?” He reassures, voice soft.

“I want to- I want you.” You’re straight with him because you don’t think your nerves would let you elaborate on just how much you do. How badly you crave his touch, how you needed him even when his lips were on yours, too much too little all at once.

“What do you want, pretty girl. Tell me, I’ll give you anything.” He pushes a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, soft fingers lightly touching your skin. 

“I don’t know- I’ve never…”

“Are you a virgin?” He doesn’t say it with any judgement behind his words, just genuine curiosity, and perhaps even a hint of protection.

“No! No, no… I mean, I’ve… done it before, it’s just- it wasn’t-”

Good, intimate, personal, enjoyable, or anything that would make you want to do it again. That’s the truth, but you don’t unload this onto him all at once, afraid he’ll run away at the wake of your inexperience. 

“That’s okay… we can take it slow.” He leans in to kiss you but you stop him with your words.

“I don’t want to take it slow.”

He smirks, and even in the dark you can make up the gesture. It makes you weak, much like his next words. “We can do it however you want to, baby.”

“You’re gonna have to- to teach me, though.”

“I can do that.” He kisses you at last, shutting you up, another sweet interruption as you’re about to say something else that slips your mind entirely the moment his lips are back on yours. There’s intention behind it this time, not necessarily a means to an end but anticipation, making you needier by the second. 

You walk forwards and he goes backwards, and soon enough, the back of his knees are touching the mattress lips disconnecting from yours as he sits on the bed, holding onto your hips as he looks up at your face. He can’t make up much of it, quickly reaching for the bedside table and turning on the single lamp that rests on top of the wooden surface. It illuminates the room in dim, yellow light. Your pretty face comes into view and he smiles.

“Better.”

“Wanna touch you,” you say, shaky fingers running down his face, touching his soft hair and taking in the way his eyes flutter at the gentle gesture. 

“You can touch me…”

“Wanna kiss you,” your fingers graze his pink lips, carefully, making them tingle at the touch. 

“You can kiss me, too…”

You nod, and it’s only when you get down on your knees that he gets what you truly mean. 

“Can I kiss you there,” your question is timid, eyes traveling down his body until they land on his crotch. You don’t see it but his cock twitches at the simple act.

“Only if you wanna,” he says, tilting your chin up to make you look at him, bringing his lips to yours in a soft kiss that takes your breath away. 

“I wanna,” you reaffirm, hands coming to rest on his thighs as you let your lips part, reluctantly. But you want to do other things to him. 

Your hands travel upwards, shaky fingers inching closer to where you can make up the outline of his dick, growing more prominent by the second. It fills you with pride, knowing that you did that to him, that the hiss that leaves his pretty lips when you finally touch him is a chain reaction to your actions. Granting pleasure is a new found pleasure for you, and you want to give, give, give, until you see him unfold for you. 

His hand comes to rest on top of yours, adding slight pressure as you palm his cock over his pants. When you look up at him, he nods, eyes closing for a second as you grip tighter and he grows harder at your touch. 

“Can I?” You look into his eyes as your fingers start to fumble with his button. He brings a hand down, helping you as you manage to undo it, his zipper following before his pants are coming off. 

He removes his shirt, too, the air feeling stuffy all of a sudden the more you touch him – the closer you get to where you’re clearly aiming for. He sits there, in only his boxers, chest heaving in anticipation as he waits for your next move, not wanting to scare you off, giving you the space to explore his body and take him in. 

“Can you take these off,” your fingers run over the hem of his boxers, the touch alone making him flinch. 

“Feeling a little vulnerable over here,” he half jokes, but freeing himself of the last remaining garment on his body nonetheless. 

You wanna joke back, but the thought leaves you the moment you see him. Standing in front of your kneeling form, hard cock against his toned stomach, long and thick and leaking precum, red at the tip and twitching as he closes a hand around it, seeking some relief. 

You sit on your knees, holding the back of his thighs as you look up at him, your eyes leading prayers for him to give you a sign – a little lost, but all too eager. He looks down at you, so pretty for him, eyes glassy and full of pleading, he’s sure he’d give you the world if you so asked for it. 

His hand angles his cock towards your lips, bringing it closer, eyes never leaving yours, though threatening to close the moment you lean in, planting a kiss against his tip. He bites his lip, pushing your bangs away from your face as you open your mouth for him, tongue out and traveling down his shaft, a little kitten lick that ends at the tip. 

He throws his head back in pleasure, a little moan leaving him.

“Tell me,” you demand in that soft voice. “Tell me what to do. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Open a bit wider, baby.” And when you do, he sheathes the head of his cock inside your warm mouth, hissing in pleasure as your tongue circles around the tip, teasing at the sensitive skin of his frenulum, how you’d done it just now. “Watch your teeth,” he caresses your jaw softly and you nod. 

“Suck on it.”

You wrap your lips around his cock, sucking as you take more of him in, revelling on the sounds he makes, the throaty moan that passes his pretty lips for a second before he’s drawing them back between his teeth, hissing at your warm mouth. 

You get carried away and soon enough he’s hitting the back of your throat, the muscle contracting around his tip as you gag around him. 

“Fuck,” he groans. “You okay?”

You let out a soft giggle. “Yeah. Did that feel good?”

“Y-yeah, but you don’t have to do it…”

“I liked it- you feel so big in my mouth.”

His hand rests at your head when you lean in yet again, tongue circling around his tip slowly, licking at his slit that leaks precum and tasting him before you start bobbing your head, looking into his eyes because he’s too pretty of a sight to miss, especially like this. 

“Shit, that feels so good,” his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, carefully undoing the bow that holds half of it up, letting it cascade down your shoulders and back, grabbing a fistful for himself as he gently guides your movements. He slowly pushes you further until you’re gagging around him again, a moan getting caught up in your throat that he feels vibrate all through his spine. “Fuck.”

He gently pulls you off of him, teary eyes looking into his, so pliant and perfect, all for him. Your tongue licks at his head once again, hand wrapping around his shaft, making him hiss. 

“No more,” he says, wrapping his hand around yours, letting you jerk him.

“Why?” Your doe eyes look up at him, and he finds it so fucking endearing how you look disappointed at his words.

“Don’t wanna cum yet.”

He helps you to your feet, making you sit on the bed and then sitting right beside you, the palm of his hands softly caressing your bruised knees. You smile at him, the sweet gesture confirming your early assumption – there is sweetness in all of his actions. 

As he kisses you, his fingers toy with the straps of your dress, letting them fall over your shoulders, thumb grazing the soft skin as his lips travel south, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck all the way to your shoulder. 

“Take this off, baby,” he pulls at the hem of your dress before his hand gets lost inside of it, parting your legs slightly until he’s running his knuckles down your clothed slit. You push your dress off your body, letting it fall to the floor as you kick it, making him laugh at your sudden eagerness. 

You lean back, hands fisting at the sheets behind you as your legs open for him, letting him touch you, pleasure you in ways no one has ever before. He kisses at your clavicles, sloppy and soft until he reaches your mouth again, lips reconnecting in a frantic kiss. You moan into it as he pushes your panties to the side, middle finger parting your lips and collecting your slick before finding your clit, running tight circles over it until you’re mewling. 

“Oh my God,” you cry into his mouth, eyes widening at the feeling. 

“Yeah? That feel good?” 

“Yes.” Your hand closes around his wrist, a silent plead for him to go faster – and he does, aiding your pleasure as he reads your body. “Jungkook, take my panties off.”

His fingers leave your clit, quickly pushing your soaked panties down your legs and throwing them somewhere on the floor. He leans into you, making you move further into the mattress as he kneels between your legs, opening them with his strong thighs before he’s pouncing forward and kissing you again. His fingers find your heat, running down your slit, thumb teasing your clit as his middle finger prods at your opening. 

“Wanna fuck you,” he says against your lips. “Gotta get you ready for me.”

His finger fucks into you, making you gasp, the feeling almost foreign but good – so fucking good it has you bucking your hips into his touch, begging for more. He adds a second digit, relishing in the way your snug walls suck his fingers in as he curls them inside of you. 

“Oh,” it’s a curious little sound, making him chuckle.

“Oh?”

“That feels so good,” you voice it like a question, rather than a statement.

“Yeah? Here?” He curls his fingers inside of you once again, hitting that spot immediately and not leaving it, making you close your legs around his hand as you moan. 

“Jungkook,” you cry out in pleasure.

“Gonna make you cum so hard, baby. But I want you to cum around my cock. Can you do that, pretty?”

“Y-yes.”

He removes his fingers from your tight cunt, slowly bringing them to your lips as you open up for him, tasting yourself for the first time. He kisses you, his tongue licking at yours as he says, “you taste so fucking sweet.”

“I need to feel you.” Your arms wrap around him, hands running over his muscular back and bringing him closer to you.

“You sure?” You nod at him, those pretty eyes finding his. “I’ll go slow, we can stop whenever you want to, okay?”

“Okay. But I don’t wanna go slow. I won’t break, I want you to fuck me.”

He grunts at your filthy little words, kissing you passionately as he angles his cock towards you entrance, hitting his tip against your clit a couple of times before running it down your slit, letting your juices soak him, getting you as wet as he can before he begins to push past your tight walls slowly. 

You whimper at the burn, the stretch evident but not less welcomed as you begin to feel hints of pleasure the closer he gets to bottoming out. 

“You’re doing so good, baby. You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs against the crook of your neck, hot breath tickling the skin as your fingers get lost inside his dark locks. 

He bottoms out, the curve of his cock finding that spot inside of you almost instantly and when you moan out in pleasure, he looks up at you, demanding you to open your eyes, to let him see what he’s doing to you. His hands rest on the mattress at either side of your face as he begins to fuck into you, slowly but with a force to his movements that has you seeing stars. 

“Jungkook,” you call out his name.

“Tell me,” he kisses your lips once, softly, making you lose your train of thought for a minute. 

“I’m so glad we’re- nngh, doing this.” Your words get lost in moans and throaty whimpers, the feeling overpowering your senses, but you need to let him know.

“Fuck- me too, you’re so perfect- you’re so,” he kisses you, afraid he’ll say too much if he lets himself get too carried away, an all too easy thing to do when you’re looking up at him like that and your pussy’s taking him in so well.

He fucks you faster, angling his hips perfectly as he brings your legs closer to your body, hand wrapping around the side of your neck as he kisses you, all-consuming you, not a corner of your body that isn’t ignited by his every touch. His cock fills you up perfectly, hitting that sweet spot inside of you, it’s foreign at first and you almost want to ask him to stop, but the more he thrusts inside of you, the more pleasure takes over. Your mind grows foggy, limbs weak, legs shaky and all you can focus on is the delicious stretch, his cock fucking so deep into you and the sweet sinful sounds that leave him. 

You feel the coil tightening at your lower stomach, pussy clenching fiercely around his cock, making him whine into your mouth. 

“I- wait,” you cry out, but when he stops, immediately searching for your eyes with his frantic ones, you wish he hadn’t.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t stop, please.” 

Your hands grope at his ass, pushing him into you, crying out in pleasure when he keeps fucking you, resuming the same obliterating pace and finding that spot almost immediately, re-igniting that feeling inside of you. The fluttering pressure overwhelming you, bringing tears to your eyes.

He feels it, the way your walls throb, massaging his cock as you clench tightly around him, legs shaking in his hold as he fucks into you. Your lips part in pure, unadulterated pleasure and your glassy eyes widen at the foreign bout of pleasure. 

“Fuck, baby- you’re cumming. Cum for me, ___.”

“Oh my God.” The feeling overwhelms you, taking over every inch of your body, not a single nerve untouched, as it spasms at the feeling. You cry out in pleasure, nails digging into his arms as he fucks you through your orgasm, his moans getting lost with yours as you bring him so fucking close he doesn’t know how much longer he can prolong it for.

“You’re gonna make me cum.” 

He pulls out, the both of you looking down at where your bodies were connected, eyes fixed on the way he jerks his cock, fast and sloppy until he’s letting out a throaty groan, your name passing his lips as he cums, cock heavy and pulsing as he spurts his warm seed all over your tummy. 

His fucked-out gaze follows your curious fingers as you let them touch the sticky mess he’s left on your skin, slowly bringing them to your mouth as you wrap your lips around them – tasting him. 

“God, fuck- don’t do that. I’m too weak to fuck you again.”

You giggle, tongue circling around your digits before you swallow, enjoying the taste, his taste. 

“I want you to, though.” It could be seductive, matter of fact, it is, but it’s also sincere – you mean it. 

“Give me like, twenty minutes.” He kisses you, slowly and gently, that sweetness to his actions that comforts you, makes you grow familiar with him by the second… has you falling into an abyss of feelings that you know could be dangerous. 

“It’s okay. We have time… right?”

Your words are laced with hope and they make his heart clench inside of his chest. He’s in bliss, at peace with the way your gentle fingers push his sweaty bangs away from his face, searching for his eyes, wanting to find that same hope – reassurance, perhaps. 

“Yes. We have all the time in the world.”

He seals the lie with a kiss, one so ardent that it distracts you, tunes out the world around you. And then another one – the one that makes you believe him. 

~

thank you for reading, if you made it this far!! let me know if you enjoyed this, I love to talk to you guys hehe <333 sending all my luv x 🍋

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[kechiwrites]

I need more babydaddy!ghost🙏🏾😫

ask and ye shall receive.

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader continued

wc: 1.4k

cw: afab!reader but no gendered terms, angst, hurt/comfort, a lil bit of hope, no use of y/n ever, mdni.

find pt. 1 here

“Did you have fun, Boo Bear?” Your son giggles as he’s passed from his father’s hold into yours, his cherubic face and hands are sticky with god knows what but you barely notice when he rubs them over your skin. Sticky kinda comes with the territory. When he's securely in your arms, you press a kiss to the crown of his head, breathing in deep the smell of fried food and other people and baby beneath it all. These days you're rarely apart, your stomach turning uncomfortably when he's out of your sight, heart racing at the idea of what could happen with him out of your reach, your protection. But you'd promised Ghost you'd try.

So you're trying.

“Mhm!” Tommy bobs his head up and down enthusiastically, and begins recounting the dramatic highs and lows of his trip out with his “new dad”. The title makes Ghost wince, a small twitch he just can’t hide from someone who’d seen everything he had been, could be. A gesture that the person who sat with his nightmares, his secrets, his bouts with a cold, his backaches, his survivor’s guilt, wouldn’t miss. And a not-so-small part of you lavishes in his discomfort. A part of you thinks with so much vitriol; ‘This is what you deserve. You deserve your son being a stranger to you.’ You take the time to catalogue your ex. He looks so bizarre here. In your home, where he used to be so welcome, his wide frame crowded into your small kitchen where you smiled and kissed and teased when things were simple, when he hadn’t broken the two of you. His shoulders are hiked up around his ears, clearly on the defensive, waiting for you to drop the bomb that this was a one time thing, That somehow he’d gone and fucked it all up again and you were going to make sure he never saw a hair on Tommy’s sweet head again.

And you could.

And you want to.

With all the energy only a four year old could have, Tommy finishes his story with a flourish neither of you are prepared for; “Is daddy gonna come live with us, now?” A different kind of bomb drops in your kitchen, exploding with no sound but so much heat and pain in both of your faces, ricocheting off mismatched plates and lightly cracked mugs and refrigerator paintings with two figures and not three.

He swings his head back and forth between your faces, baby tooth grin wide and unbothered, uncaring in a way only a child could be. Expectant. Waiting.

“Thomas, why don’t you show us how fast you can get in your jammies for bed, huh?” You bend at the waist and let your son’s feet hit the floor, letting his question hang in the air, where it couldn’t hurt him, hurt you.

“Okay!” He’s easy to placate, happy to show Ghost exactly how fast he can be; “Daddy, watch!” His tiny form disappearing down the hall.

“You could have let me answer him.” He murmurs, covering his face with the huge width of his hand and keeping it there. Briefly, you wonder if it’s compulsive. You never noticed it when you were together. The mask was hard to ignore, but now with his face bare, you can see it causes him actual distress, even with you. “So you can pin the answer on me?” You scoff, turning to eyeball the dishes in your sink, there’s only three, remnants from your solitary dinner at home. You wash the dregs of pasta sauce off the ceramic plate, just so you have something to do. Just so you don’t have to look at him. “No, I’m good.”

Your back is suddenly, startlingly warm.

“I’m not trying to turn him against you. Or take him away from you.” He’s pushed himself into your space, like he’s become so good at doing lately, being where you don’t want him. Filling in gaps that have been empty for years, gaps that should’ve stayed empty.

“I don’t think you could.” He places both of his hands over your forearms, squeezing at the flesh of your upper arms, like he’s trying to reconcile that you’re there, that he’s in your home again. That he can touch you. That you let him touch you.

You let him turn you around. You let him take your face in his hands. You let him crowd close and press his lips to your face, your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, your lips. “I’m sorry.” He murmurs into your mouth, pushing his sorrow, his remorse inside you, planting it with his tongue. You kiss him back, because it feels good. It feels good and you deserve something good. You deserve to feel uncomplicated pleasure and a racing heart that only beats faster under the ministrations of heavy hands and a deep, quiet voice, like dark, black gravel in your ear.

“Dad! Come see my trucks!” Tommy's voice rips you out of your reverie, And you press your hand to your mouth, lips tingling in Ghost’s absence. You can’t even begin to articulate how much you missed it, the intimacy, the sensation. You’d insisted months ago there wouldn’t be anymore blurred lines, crossed boundaries. Co-parenting. No more hooking up. Those were the rules. The rules you made. It makes you sick. Disappointed in yourself, because no matter how bad he hurt you, how deep his serrated knife cuts, you want him, still. After everything.

“Go home Ghost. Go wherever, I don't care, just…leave.” Your throat feels like you swallowed glass, you want to scream so badly, it feels like screaming is the only thing that’ll alleviate that tight, dry feeling. “It’s what you’re good at, right?” He looks like he wants to say something, rebut you, argue with you, insist the kiss means something, anything. Instead, he follows your instructions with his regular military precision. He bids your son goodbye, promising to see him soon.

Later, after you’ve tucked Tommy in, after you’ve had time to reprimand yourself, he calls you.

“Did he go down alright?” You’re holding your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, which you hate to do, but having a four year old kind of necessitates both hands being free. You’d been folding little shirts with cartoon dogs and anthropomorphic cars when he'd called you to talk, and honestly, you’re surprised you even answered the phone when you’d just seen him an hour ago.

“It was a battle. Didn’t help that you loaded him up with all the sugar he could handle.” It’s neutral territory, easy to talk about in the wake of what happened, so you cling to it. The local street fair is hardly Disneyland, but it was loud and bright enough to capture your son’s attention while being small enough for Ghost to feel at ease with just sunglasses, a hat, and a hooded sweatshirt.

“I’m no good at saying no to him.” He huffs, and you can hear him settle into bed wherever he is. You assume some motel, with flickering lights and a lax policy on paying cash for rooms.

“It comes with practice.” You don’t say much more than that, but he holds on to it, clutches at it like the life raft it is. The promise of practice, the idea that he’ll get to see his son more, get to see you more.

It’s quiet for a while, you stay on the phone with him, going through your nighttime routine, flicking off all the lights in the house, picking up stray toys before you settle into bed yourself.

“Ghos-”

“Please.” He begs. His voice is so quiet it almost doesn’t register over the phone, you almost think you’ve imagined it until he asks again, insistent, like the soft, miserable apologies he’d kissed into your skin. “Please. I know I pushed too hard. Just for tonight. Just this time. ” The next breath you take is weak, rattling and tired, and your eyes prick with tears that shouldn’t even be there to begin with. He made his choice. He cut you out. And it hurt. It hurt like fourteen hours of labour on your own. Like pushing and breathing and crying out to God to never give you a man to love again.

“Simon. I need to go to bed.” You murmur, voice low and far too intimate. You can hear his inhale shudder into his lungs on the other end. His name doesn’t taste like you thought it would, after all this time. Like the ash and smoke and thick dark blood you’d expected. It does, however, taste a bit like losing. Like the deflated feeling you get in your stomach when you let your anger burn to nothing.

It tastes like giving in.

And it’s not nearly as bad of a taste as you thought.

series masterlist here

hope you all enjoyed! no smut this time, just feels. support city girls, reblog stuff u like.

#baby daddy ghost #ghost x black!reader #ghost x black reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod x you #cod fic #cod x reader #kechiwrites #requests #cod mw2 fic #ghost x gn reader #baby blue fic