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lilpunkrock · 1 year

Note

Hey, its me again, the angst anon! I just wanted to take advantage of the Halloween vibe to leave this in the imagination: show up in a big bad wolf costume and try to convince Jack to be Little Red Riding Hood. How do you think Jack would react?

Angst Anon!! Hello! I LOVE this prompt/idea SO much. I had a little spare time at work today, so enjoy a little Halloween-themed post-Halloween drabble. :)

Primal

Read Primal’s counterpart, “Devour,” here.

As you waltz into the living room, Jack affixes you with a dead-pan stare. “Ah, mi cariño, what are you wearing?”

You glance down at the floral-print nightgown covering your furry gray onesie with feigned innocence. When you raise your head to meet his gaze, the wolf ears on your headband turn askew. You raise one gloved hand, adorned with gray fur and fake claws, to straighten them. You shoot him a mischievous grin, offering a glimpse of the plastic fangs in your mouth. “What does it look like I’m wearing? I’m The Wolf.”

“No, no, no.” Jack’s dark brows furrow tightly as he rises from the couch and walks toward you, waving his hands emphatically. “When we chose these costumes, I thought I was going to be the wolf. I mean, it’s kind of obvious, is it not?”

“I know, I know. But wouldn’t it be nice not to be the wolf for once?” You draw the Party City bag you’ve been hiding out from behind your back, extending it to him. “Besides, this costume is way too good to pass up.”

Jack takes the bag from you slowly, his olive green eyes reluctantly curious as he rifles through the bag. When he reveals a lace-up bodice and bright red skirt from within it, his cheeks go a shade of crimson that puts Little Red’s hooded cape to shame. You suppress a snicker behind one gloved hand as he hastily shoves the costume back in its bag. Damn, he was too cute when he was flustered. “No, mi cariño. No way. I won’t do it. Come on, trade me.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, taking a swift step to the side when he tries to swipe the fake paws from your hands. “You really think you can make a better Wolf than me?”

The look on Jack’s handsome face is incredulous. His wide, expectant eyes and slack jaw scream, ‘Obviously.’ With a tone that is equal parts exasperated and humored, his voice echoes the same, “Obviously.”

You flash him a dazzling grin. “Let me prove you wrong, then.”

Jack gives no protest save for a sigh as you draw the hooded cape from within the shopping bag around his shoulders. You swiftly tie it at his chest and slip the hood over him. As you card your fingers through the salt-and-pepper hair by his ears and forehead, guiding each lock into place with care, his hesitant expression softens. You step back, admiring your handiwork with a pleased grin. “Alright, let’s practice. I’ll show you how good a Wolf I can be. Go on, say the lines.”

For a moment, you’re really not sure he’ll do it. Jack’s pensive gaze flickers over your face, watching you intently, as if to see if he can wait you out. When you don’t budge, he finally sighs. “Ay, Dios mío. Fine. Ah…abuela, what big…ears you have?”

You flash him a fanged grin, lifting your clawed hands to wiggle your fake ears at him. “Ah, the better to hear you with, darling,” you say in the deepest, most guttural voice you can muster.

Though he tries to hold it in, Jack outright snorts at your attempted impression. His laughter reveals a glimpse of the slight crook in his grin–your most beloved possession. You smile in turn. Humor was the way to Jack’s heart, and boy, were you dedicated to delivering. “Well? Keep going,” you growl at him, trying to stay in character.

Jack draws in a shuddering breath, seeking to swallow his laughter. He pulls his lips into a hard line, composing himself. “Right, right. Lo siento. Ah, abuela, what big eyes you have.”

Fully committing to the bit, you begin to circle him, watching him with wide, attentive eyes. “Ah, the better to see you with, darling.”

Jack rotates slowly, trying to keep up with your prowl. “But, abuela, what large hands you have.”

As he turns, one of his socked feet steps onto the Party City bag on the floor, throwing him off balance. You reach out quickly, planting one clawed hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Oh, the better to hold you with, darling,” you growl, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Jack quirks a questioning brow at you, a challenge sparking in his olive eyes. “Isn’t it supposed to be ‘hug?'” he jests, poking at your gowned chest.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “You really think it’s a good idea to talk back to the Wolf, mincemeat?”

Jack gifts you an adorably lop-sided grin, one that sends your heart fluttering right out of your chest and into his hands. Sometimes you really felt more creature than human in his presence. It astounded you how the sweet, honeyed sound of his voice could rid all logical thoughts from your brain; how one look from him could turn your bones to jelly; how a brush of his skin against yours could reduce you to nothing but molten heat and primal need. Sometimes, you felt as if the only thing in this world that could ever be enough to satisfy you would be to open up your soul and swallow him whole.

Jack breathes a soft chuckle, coaxing you back to yourself. “No, of course not, mi cariño.” He raises his hand to cup your cheek tenderly, a touch you instinctively lean into. With a small, pleased smile, he draws the pad of his thumb across your lower lip. His pace agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. You swallow thickly, your throat suddenly dry. “Mi cariño…what a big mouth you have.”

There is no world beyond his olive eyes, the warmth of his breath on your face, the searing touch of his thumb on your lips. “The better to kiss you with,” you whisper quietly.

Though it’s Jack who makes the first move, dipping his chin and drawing you closer, you meet him in the middle with equal fervor. Your bones sing at the press of his lips against yours, a song so loud and clear you’re sure he must hear it. As his thumb finds the tender hollow behind your earlobe, liquid light pours into your soul, filling you up, up, up until your skin shines with it. When his tongue glides over the fake wolf’s teeth in your mouth, a deep rumble purrs in his throat. Your lips lift in a smile as you kiss him greedily, stealing the laughter straight from his mouth and locking it up in your heart, a treasure you will forever keep. You may not be able to open your soul up and swallow him whole…but this feeling…Well, this would suffice.

When you finally part for breath, Jack dips his face into the crook of your neck, burying his nose into your collarbone. As he draws in a deep, savoring breath, you card your fingers through his hair, grazing your fingernails over his scalp. “So, how did I do?” you ask with a soft, pleased smile.

Jack burrows his face deeper into you. You can feel his grinning lips even through the fabric of your costume. “You did well, mi cariño. So very scary.”

You chuckle quietly, kneading at the spot behind his ear affectionately. “So, you’ll let me wear the costume?” you ask, your voice tentatively hopeful.

Jack gives one final nuzzle before he draws himself away from you. When his gaze meets yours, his olive eyes are bright and amused. You beam up at him, sure of his answer before he even gives it. “Ay, mi loba pequeña, you have won me over. But next year, I am picking the costumes.” Jack bends to snatch the Party City bag off the floor. When he pulls the bodice and skirt from within it, his eyes flick up to look at you insistently. “And we are going to have to find some tights for this, mi cariño, or we are going to have un problema muy grave.”

. . .

Translations:

"Mi cariño" — "sweetheart," "my darling"

"Ay, Dios mío" — "My God/my goodness"

"Abuela" — "Grandmother"

"Mi loba pequeña" — "My little wolf"

"Un problema muy grave" — "A very serious problem"

. . .

Taglist: @h0wv3ry @the-ginger-draws @howlingco @ratisshortforratalia @safeikik @russell-ed @emilynightshade89 @mobiusismyfav @thepjofanqueen @couldnt-come-up-with-a-username @girlymusiclover09 @vigilantefucks @starfirette @scarletghost22

#jack russell #jack russell x reader #jack russell x fem!reader #werewolf by night #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #werewolf by night x reader #werewolf by night fanfiction #werewolf by night fanfic #mcu phase 4 #marvel phase 4 #marvel phase four #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #jack russell x you #gael garcia bernal #wwbn

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jmflowers · 1 year

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Please dedicate to @lacallemojada

For APF, who underestimates how cute I can make disgusting things. And for Ducks, who humoured me and my ridiculous ideas.

Solemates

One of her socks goes missing the day after she wins gold.

Maya doesn’t notice right away, not until she’s packing her bags to leave the athlete’s village. Not until there’s only one sweaty, blood-covered sock in her pile of dirty clothes.

She looks for it, at first, because she isn’t really thinking about that. Isn’t thinking about anything except how her father probably wants to frame them, wants to hang them above the mantle in the living room as a testament to what a Bishop is capable of.

What a Bishop can win.

What a Bishop can overcome.

She gives up, after a while, when it’s clear there’s no sock to be found. Instead, she shoves her sports bras and her leggings and her training gear into her duffel bag, ignoring the sharp stench of sweat laced into the fabric.

Ignoring the sharp pinch of her ankle in the bandage wrapped around it.

When she steps out of her room for the last time, gold medal hanging heavily around her neck, she doesn’t look back. Doesn’t think too hard about the missing sock.

Doesn’t think at all about dropping the other one in the trash.

Carina’s living in Milan when it arrives.

Actually, living in is a generous term. She’s more gravitating, lugging herself between hotel rooms and friends’ couches with only a suitcase to her name.

It hurts too much to put down roots, still.

And she’s not really thinking about what anything means, when it shows up on the bathroom floor. Isn’t thinking anything beyond the grief sticking in her bones.

Or maybe that she should really find better accommodations if the cleaning staff would miss a disgusting, sweaty, bloody sock on the bathroom floor.

But then it does come rushing back, all at once. Her mother’s voice, soft and familiar and comforting, weaving a tale of soulmates and eternity and meant to be.

She isn’t expecting it, when it arrives. Has given up expecting that such a thing is even meant for someone such as her. But she doesn’t deny it, when it appears.

It’s too hard to ignore when it smells so bad.

Her bra goes missing a couple months later, when she’s settled back into the spare room at Gabriella’s. And that Carina does notice right away, because she’d washed it and hung it in the bathroom with the intention of wearing it and the whole draw of moving back in with Gabri is that she doesn’t touch her stuff and –

Gabriella stares at her like she has grown an extra head when she asks. “Why would I take your bra?” she mutters, strolling past into the kitchen, “It wouldn’t fit me.”

She remembers again, then; remembers the sock wrapped in a plastic bag to hide its smell, shoved into the very bottom of her suitcase. It feels unfair, just a little, to know that someone, somewhere in the world, has gotten her nice bra and in return she’s received their disgusting sock.

Their bloody, sweaty, stinky sock.

At least her bra was clean.

Maya finds it in her pack while she’s sorting through her things on a hostel bed in Nepal.

She pales instantly, shoving it into the open pocket to hide it from her bunk mate. Shakti has been too intrigued by everything Maya has done in the last few days they’ve been together – from brushing her hair to doing sit ups on the floor.

Shakti doesn’t need to see the rather lacey bralette that’s somehow magically appeared in Maya’s pack.

Unless Shakti is the one…

No, Maya thinks instantly, there’s no way. It must’ve been one of the other girls, one of the other many people she’s crossed paths with in the last week of her travels.

A funny joke.

The fabric is soft beneath her fingers, despite the lace. Warm, almost.

And tiny; far too small to fit her own breasts.

She keeps it without much more thought, wondering if maybe she’ll cross paths with the girl who put it there. Wondering if maybe she’ll get a bit of practice removing it from the body it belongs to.

She doesn’t think about what the appearance of an undergarment is supposed to mean.

Andy gushes about it years later, grinning over a shot glass on her front porch.

She’d found her sock as a child, tucked beneath the covers of her bed. She thinks it belongs to Ryan, Maya knows, thinks the flirty glances they’ve been sharing across the front lawns of their parents’ houses mean they’re meant to be.

It all sounds ridiculous to Maya, though. Too far-fetched to be true.

Even if Vic has found one, too. An undershirt, stained with sweat, buried in the bottom of her gym bag while she was at the academy.

“I bet that means he’s in really good shape,” Andy suggests, smirking salaciously.

“What about you, Bishop?” Vic asks, handing over another shot of vodka.

Maya laughs, throwing it back quickly, drinking away the memory of soft lace beneath her fingers. “Monogamy is for the weak,” she declares loudly, eyes shifting to Andy’s face and the sharp fall of her smile. “Or the very, very dedicated.”

“Not quite monogamy,” Vic challenges, glancing off towards the approaching form of Ryan.

“Yeah,” Andy whispers, “It’s soulmates.”

She doesn’t think about it, when Maya’s warm hand slides into her own, a drink and a story hovering between them. Doesn’t think about it when they talk on the phone, or over dinner, or beneath the covers of Maya’s bed.

Carina doesn’t even think about it when Maya shows her the gold medal for the first time, her fingers soft and her kisses softer.

In fact, she forgets about it at all until she shoves her hand into the bottom drawer of her dresser, searching for the last of her things to pack, and lands on the plastic bag instead.

She knows what’s inside without looking. Remembers the sweat stains and the blood and the smell. It’s ridiculous, to have hauled it along with her for all these years.

Ridiculous, that she drops it into the box alongside the rest of her clothes, destined for their new home with Maya.

Carina is very good at packing, Maya finds, but less so at unpacking.

Her boxes of things litter every surface of their newly-shared apartment, the only indication of Carina’s organization the carefully written labels stating that they are, at least, in the right rooms. Like the box of toiletries in the corner of the bathroom.

Or the one that’s taken up residence on top of the dresser instead of in it.

Maya starts there, carefully extracting articles of clothing Carina has deemed okay to be folded. Her other things – the nicer things – have already been hung safely in the bedroom closet, Maya’s own collection of rarely-worn dresses and jackets relegated down the hall to the living room.

She stops when she reaches the bottom, confused by the plastic bag nestled amidst Carina’s intimates. It smells a bit, even though it’s been carefully wrapped up, completely out of place within the gentle scent of Carina’s laundry detergent.

“Carina?” she calls before she can think better of it, before she can even really register what it might be, “Is this yours?”

“Oh,” Carina murmurs when she appears in the doorway, a spatula still in her hands. She lowers it slowly, considering.

“Is this yours?” Maya asks again.

Carina frowns. “Sort of,” she nods, “It’s my… sock.”

“Oh,” Maya repeats, glancing down at it in her hands, “Oh.”

“You can throw it out,” Carina suggests, turning back towards the kitchen, “I don’t need it.”

“Hey, wait,” Maya calls after her, following, still clutching the offending object tightly. “How long have you had this?”

Carina shrugs, suddenly indifferent as she resumes unpacking her kitchen boxes, carefully arranging items in drawers. She’s good at it, now that she’s trying to deflect.

“You don’t even want to open it?” Maya offers. “One last time?”

Carina shakes her head. “I don’t need to.” She looks up, smiling softly, effortlessly yanking the breath from Maya’s lungs when she promises, “I love you, Maya.”

“Besides,” she adds on as an afterthought, waving her hand between them as though dismissing it, “It’s stinky and sweaty and covered with blood. I should’ve thrown it out years ago.”

“Now I have to see it,” Maya laughs, grabbing hold of Carina’s wrist to pull her closer.

“It doesn’t change anything,” Carina argues, tipping into Maya’s arms, “I am still choosing you, bambina.”

“But what if we’re sole mates,” Maya chuckles anyways, teasing even as Carina’s words send a flood of butterflies through her stomach. “What if it’s my sock inside this bag?”

“If it is,” Carina whispers, nuzzling closer, “I’d like my own sock drawer, because yours are very gross.”

She unwraps it slowly, both of them recoiling slightly as the years-old sweat reaches their noses. It’s plain looking, beneath the blood stains; simple.

Except for the Team USA logo on the toes.

“Oh,” Maya mumbles.

She steps away, slowly at first and then quickly, her feet picking up speed as her mind does. She dashes towards the living room closet, reaching on her tiptoes for the box tucked into a corner on the shelf.

She should’ve known, she thinks. Should’ve considered, that first night. The first time she pulled lace up and away from Carina’s body. The first time Carina’s array of bras appeared along the top of the shower door, hung to dry.

The first time her fingers felt the warmth of soft fabric beneath them.

Maya opens the box slowly, uncovering the bralette she’s kept for all these years.

“Oh,” Carina echoes when she turns. “Oh.”

“My sock,” Maya whispers, stumbling back across the room to Carina’s side, feeling the pull of her like gravity. “My Olympic Gold Medal sock.”

“Now I definitely want my own drawer,” Carina declares, dipping low to capture Maya’s mouth with her own, “And my favourite bra back.”

#look what a stinky sock can do #solemates #all the puns #trope challenge #fic writing challenge #ye doubt me????#very nearly had that thing in the trash at the end there #fic by me #minefic #tumblr prompt party #janelle's asks #cuteasducks9

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lemon-sugarcoats-nothing · 1 year

Text

Lemon and Cinna but make em ~magical~

Inspired by Cinna's post here: Click Me! This isn't a trick - Cinna requested that I (Bee) draw her as a magical girl! I decided to also draw Lemon as a magical boy, because...Siblins B) No anthro pony today, this is more along the lines of equestria girls, since i wanted this to look more anime and less MLP

🐝 Art rant, Design tips, and my thought process bc Cinna mentioned that Mocha struggles with outfit design:

Anime magical girls amiright? So, the design Mocha came up with was cute, I like the bright colors, an it gives off a lot of Star vs the forces of evil vibes. Im gonna be real clear here; this is not a diss on Mocha's magical girl design.

That being said, when I was drawing my version of magical girl Cinna I wanted her to look more anime magical girl, rather than SVTFOE. here were some things i kept in mind

Magical girls usually have one main color, with a few accent colors. Not always, but from what i've seen it's a really common design element that helps differentiate the characters and make them stand out within their show. This is especially the case with Magical girl shows that have a team of girls, and not just one girl. Things like Madoka Magica, Sailor moon, Most precure generations i've seen images of, Yuki yuna is a hero, etc.

Repeated patterns like polka dots or floral patterns, aren't common, but stripes (like along the edge of the skirt, or lining the bodice), and small accent designs ARE common.

Typically, magical girl outfits are very frilly and cutesy. Some would be more impractical in battle than others irl, but either way femininity and looking beautiful while still being super powerful is a big magical girl thing

I personally like looking at, drawing, and designing magical girls with more structured bodices, mock-corsets, or sort of armor(?) with short, flowy skirts. The illusion of practicality, if you will.

I didnt want to completely lose the stars and hearts that Mocha used in Cinna's original magical girl design, so I used those in her little accessories. I mostly kept the hair the same, it's very on-brand for magical girls. HOWEVER, I tweaked the purpley pinkish colors on the design to a darker reddish pink/magenta, since I felt that fit Cinna's coat color a little better. The colors in Mocha's design also heavily influenced what colors i picked for the final drawing.

Since Cinna's hair was made pink for this drawing, I decided to make her whole magical girl outfit be mostly pink. I used the blue and yellow from the pattern on her dress to determine what her accent colors would be. I struggled a little bit at first with color placement, but in the end I think it looks okay (if not a bit...easter-egg-y). If i were to redo this, i might ditch the yellow and just do pink and blue (excluding neutral tones).

Now for Lemon!

I wanted their outfit to contrast Cinna's. Since cinna has a lot of bright colors, I decided that Lemon was going to be restricted to red and yellow, with black making up most of the outfit. Also because Cinna has a very innocent outfit, that for the most part covers her pretty well, I gave Lemon a very revealing outfit.

Playing off of the structured bodices mentioned before, with mock-corsets n all that, i gave lemon a corset-inspired top that laces in the front instead of the back (Possibly both, since its not actually doing anything to compress). This allowed them to have an exposed chest and midriff. Since i wasnt giving Lemon their wings or feathers for this magical boy design, I decided to give them shoulder pads that resemble wings, and wing accessories on their corset and wand thing. The rest of the design was to mostly just to support the main aspects of the design and add visual flavor.

For the magical wand things, I just wanted something that went with the main outfits. Cinna's wand was inspired by the big ol staff she's holding in Mocha's drawing. Lemon's has a moon design to go with the black-heavy outfit, and wings for...obvious reasons. I imagine these could be used as wands for magical attacks, or the handles can be extended for swinging it around and whacking people.

Alright i think thats just about all i have to say B) thanks for reading, and have a nice day! :D - 🐝

#digital art #art #anime magical girls #magical girl #art requests

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tetsuwhore · 4 years

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𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮

Description: you’re so soft, so pliant against him, innocently fluttering your eyelashes as you look up at him. it makes Oikawa want to ruin you. so, he does.

Warning: explicit smut - corruption kink, overstimulation, one mention of videotaping, soft dom!Oikawa, shy!Reader

Length: 4.1k words

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Oikawa had only wanted to kiss you goodbye.

That’s all he had meant to do - end the night a little sweet before leaving your doorway for the drive back to his apartment. Maybe even whisper something in your ear about how he couldn’t wait to see how pretty you looked in your outfit for the next date night, just so he had one last chance to see your face grow pink at his cheekiness.

But he doesn’t even reach that far, because before he can pull away, you’re grasping on to the thick of his shoulders, bringing his lips back against your soft ones. You’re kissing him hard, with far more vigour than he was expecting. It’s uncharacteristic of you. He can’t bring himself to pull away.

He wants to lose himself - to the saccharine scent of your perfume, to the magnetic pull of your arms as they loop around his neck, to the feeling of your soft tits pressing up against the hardness of his chest. Suddenly, Oikawa’s intoxicated, and it has nothing to do with the wine from earlier tonight. No, it’s you; you’re everywhere, all around him. And he’s so tempted to simply give in to the inebriation.

But he shouldn’t. It was too early, wasn’t it? No, he should wait until you’re ready. That would be the right thing to do. All he had to do was gently pull away from you and-

“Oikawa-kun… I need you to, um, to touch me? Please?”

Fuck. You’re practically begging him to fuck you. And he wants to. Oikawa wants to.

Maybe he should. He considers the thought - it would be cruel of him not to, wouldn’t it? To deny you, even when he can feel the needy undulation of your front against his crotch, and your hardened nipples poking through the thin fabric of your blouse.

And when you begin moaning into his mouth, whining about how you wanted him - no, needed him - to make you feel good, Oikawa knows that he physically can’t push you away.

So he makes haste of fishing your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door, and swiftly bringing you inside before he lost all his senses and fucked you right there at the doorway of your apartment.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

It’s amusing, really.

How the moment Oikawa has you laying on the bed, with him hovering on top of you, you lose all remnants of that forwardness. Every trace of the boldness from earlier melts away, and left behind, is his shy, timid girlfriend.

He’s stripped your pants away, leaving your bottom half naked, save for your panties. It’s a flimsy thing, with fabric so thin that he can practically feel the dampness soaking through to his pants. And it does absolutely nothing to protect you from the rutting of his hardening bulge against your clothed clit.

It’s the slightest motion, just a simple brush every so often. And yet, you’re already a shaky mess under him, blushing and quivering at every movement. You’re unable to even look at him, tilting your head to the side, eyes pulled tightly shut.

“You need to be touched here,” Oikawa coos, his fingers lightly ghosting along the length of your clothed slit, “don’t you, baby?” He chuckles at the sight of your frantic nodding, moving off of you to support himself on one elbow. Thumbing your panties, he looks to you for permission, “How about we get this out of the way, hmm?”

Upon receiving your shy nod, he loops deft fingers into the waistband, slowing prying the fabric away from your dripping cunt. Oikawa has to contain himself - take a deep breath in so he doesn’t cum in his pants - as his eyes follow the clear string of slickness left behind as he slides your panties along your quivering thighs, all the way down to your ankles, before placing it aside.

Your eyes are still screwed shut, likely from the embarrassment of being so exposed in front of him. But when a second passes, then one more, and then another still, your eyes flutter open. You turn to him, confusion evident in your expression as you watch him remain where he is - idly resting by your side on one arm.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Your eyes are the size of saucers now, gaping up at him as you stutter over your words.

“I- I can’t- That’s too…”

“Go on, baby,” Oikawa coaxes gently, “For me.”

He follows your shaky hand as it ghosts along your abdomen, before finally reaching the place between your legs. He’s patient, waiting silently as he watches your eyes fall shut again, listening for the soft whimpers that escape your lips as your fumbling fingers brush against your quivering inner folds.

You have your bottom lip pulled tight between your teeth - a habit of nervousness, he’s learnt. Nervous about what? Nervous about… him? The thought of it makes Oikawa grin to himself. Even with your eyes closed, he knows you’re aware. You’re painfully aware of how he’s watching you, silently scrutinizing your slightest movements, your every reaction.

It’s a tinge sadistic, he knows; he really should be doing more to make you feel more at ease. And yet, the sight of you so self-conscious and awkward under his sharp gaze, so desperate to make yourself as small as you can…

It just makes him even harder.

“Oikawa-kun… I can’t”

He’s quick to card his fingers through your hair, softly rubbing them against your scalp in soothing motions. Planting a light kiss to your forehead, Oikawa whispers reassuring praises in your ear, hoping it would be enough to coax you into continuing the ministrations of your fingers.

“No, I really c-can’t…” your voice is so small that he barely catches what you say, “I don’t- I don’t know how…”

Huh. How interesting.

Oikawa raises a brow in curiosity, “You’ve never touched yourself before?” Shaking your head, “Just on-once,” you quietly confess, “but I didn’t, um… y’know…”

Very interesting, indeed.

“Tell me about it,” he presses gently, “What did you think about, hmm?”

“It was that day after you, um, you t-took me to… to watch you practice,” your voice is laced with embarrassment now, uncontrollably shaky, “I couldn’t s-stop thinking about you...” Gulping, you keep going, “So, uh, after you dr-dropped me home, I- I-”

Oikawa hums, hoping the feigned nonchalance of it was believable enough to hide how crazy your words were driving him.

“I tried to, um, you know, t-touch… d-down there... but all I could t-think, oh-” your breath hitches in surprise as you glance down to find his other hand drawing slow circles on the skin of your thigh. Hovering so, very dangerously close to the heat of your cunt. And yet, he keeps his eyes on your face, waiting for you to continue.

“I kept thinking about… about y-your fingers… how they’re so much longer and, ah- and th-thicker than mine,” his eyes are growing wider, darker at every utterance slipping from your lips. Did you have any idea what you were doing to his ego?

“And how mine got too… um, too t-tired to continue, but yours,” you’re struggling so hard now, voice so shaky that you’re barely coherent, “yours would pr-probably m-make… make me… oh-”

But now those very fingers are lightly tracing the outside of your pussy lips, and the rest of it comes out so garbled that Oikawa isn’t even sure it can be considered speech. It’s okay, he can forgive you. Because fuck, this was really too much, and he would be a hypocrite to chide you for it.

Oikawa would be a hypocrite to judge you when his own thoughts were completely scrambled, swarming all over the place as he zoned in on the mental picture of you.

Of his cute girlfriend, lying alone in her bed that night, fingers sunken deep into her dripping cunt as she fantasized about him. Of his little sweetheart, realizing in frustration that her tiny little fingers weren’t enough to make her cum, that they could never be enough, because she needed him to do it for her. Of his-

“Oikawa-kun, please!” your shrill pleading interrupts his thoughts, “I-I need… I need…”

Him. You need him.

And oh, he wanted to give you what you needed. Oikawa wanted to fuck you up, he wanted to ruin you, he wanted to use his fingers, his tongue, his thigh, his cock, all of it, until you were completely and utterly tainted by him.

Still, he was selfish. He couldn’t just give you everything that easily, right? He was ready to spoil you (and he did mean in both ways), but he needed something from you first.

“Okay, cutie, okay,” Oikawa has to hide the laugh bubbling in his throat when he hears your breath of relief, “But first, I think you need to address me properly.”

“Huh? Oikawa-kun, wha-”

He tuts disapprovingly at that, trailing his fingers away from your clit, now throbbing from being neglected for so long. He chuckles when you try to grip on to his arm, weakly attempting to bring him to where you needed him most. Except, he was Oikawa Tooru - professionally trained athlete. It wouldn’t work.

You’re still shaking, skin still flushed that gorgeous shade of crimson. But there’s a desperation in you now, a hunger for more, and he sees it perfectly in your frenzied movements as you grind your hips up in a feeble attempt to reach his straying fingers.

He hears it loud and clear in your shrill whines as you beg, “Oikawa… I’ll do a-anything, just- just touch me!”

This time, Oikawa does laugh. It’s low, dark, as he takes in your words. Were you even aware of what you were saying, of the magnitude of that word - ‘anything’? But as his gaze returns to your face, as he watches how you peer up at him through tear-glazed eyes, eyelashes fluttering ever so innocently, he realizes.

No. You don’t have a fucking clue what you’re offering him, the power you’re placing in his hands. It’s dangerous. Because again, Oikawa - ever the opportunist - is selfish. And when you offer him an inch, he’ll always go after the mile.

“My little cutie is willing to do anything? Just so I make her cum? Hmm, how about...” he hums against your neck, grinning at how you shudder at the feel of his hot breath on your skin, “...you call me by my name then?”

You look up at him in confusion, “W-What? Oik-”

“My actual name.”

It’s such a simple thing really, so easy to overlook. Getting you to drop the formalities. One by one - first with the lack of honorifics, and now, using his first name. To anyone else, it may have seemed so trivial. But this was you. His shy little girlfriend - so respectful, so polite, always ready with your pleases and thank yous.

“Please make me cum… T-Tooru…”

And so, it was more than enough for him.

Suddenly, he’s on top of you again, hot mouth swallowing your surprised whimpers as he kisses you hard, rough, hungry. Oikawa’s ruthless as his teeth tug down on your bottom lip, giving way for his tongue to slither in and taste the sweet inside of your mouth. It swipes against the edges of your teeth, licks up into the roof of your mouth, before finally tangling with yours.

And fuck, you’re moaning, you’re moaning into the kiss, because now his bulge is right against your naked cunt, rubbing up your swollen clit.

You flinch when the sound of ripping fabric echoes through the room.

His large hands pull the shredded remnants of your blouse away, allowing him a second to drink in your trembling form, now free of the oppressive cloth hiding you away from him. Oikawa trails his eyes down your heaving chest, focuses on the slight jiggle of your naked breasts as you attempt to control your staggering breaths.

You remind him of a porcelain doll - pretty, delicate, probably been treated like fragile glassware all your life. And your skin… your skin is smooth as china; it’s completely clear, with not a single blemish in sight.

Yet, all Oikawa can think about is tarnishing it, bruising it, treating it like his own personal canvas and splotching it with angry blooms of red, blue, and purple.

So, he does. His mouth ravages the expanse of your skin, sucking and kissing and licking and biting, exploring every crevice. But wait- you’re pushing him away, fingers wrangling with the hem of his shirt. Pulling apart, Oikawa makes haste of yanking his shirt off, hissing when he finally, finally feels your dainty hands grasping on to his naked skin.

Then he’s back to abusing your skin, delving into the soft cups of your breasts, into the crook of your neck. And he can hear all kinds of sounds escaping your lips - from pleasure, desperation, maybe even… pain?

He can’t tell; and he would’ve been more concerned, but right now, he simply doesn’t care, because you’re moaning for ‘more Tooru!’, you’re gripping his shoulders closer to you and you’re arching your back up so he can latch his mouth onto one of your nipples.

Your thighs are already quivering as he glides down to hover over them, slowly trailing kisses along the skin of your midriff before finally settling in between your legs. You watch, breath bated, eyes wide in trepidation as Oikawa slowly hooks one calve over his broad shoulder. The other thigh, however, he presses flat down on the mattress.

“Don’t move this one.”

You’re blushing fiery red, clearly mortified at having your cunt spread open on display in front of him. And yet, you see how much his eyes have hardened, now a murky black as they lock on you. There isn’t any option available other than to nod.

“Good girl.”

And as Oikawa peers down at your glistening folds - his face so close that he’s practically inhaling the smell of sex, of sin - he wishes he had the patience to draw it out, to explore every part of you properly. But your desperation is practically palpable, with the frenzied undulation of your hips, and the way you’re chewing on your bottom lip in anticipation.

He decides to be generous.

With one clear, fluid stroke, he’s dragging his tongue up the length of your slit, and he’s dragging the most wanton moan out of your lips. He can’t hold back his own sounds either, because fuck, you’re delicious. You’re saccharine sweet, and all Oikawa can think about is how he wants more, more, more.

So he takes it. Straightening his tongue out, he moves it past your slit, dips it into the warm cavern of your cunt and laps up all the slickness he can reach. His nose is nudged up against your clit, brushing against it as his slick tongue continues to explore the inside of your slopping pussy.

Oikawa tilts his head to the side slightly, stealing a glance at the thigh that isn’t in his grasp. It’s trembling, hovering ever-so-slightly off the mattress. And yet, he can see how painfully tight the muscle is strained as it remains in its place, just like he asked (or rather, ordered). Even with his mouth buried deep in your folds, he feels his lips draw into a smile. You’re such a good girl for him; so obedient.

Deciding that he had indulged enough, Oikawa withdraws his tongue from inside you and begins furiously lapping it up, all the way from your slit to your throbbing clit. He keeps it up, repeating it again and- wait, suddenly, he realizes that you’ve fallen quiet, and he looks up, and... are you- are you wincing? Concerned, he pulls away slightly.

“Something wrong, baby? Talk to me.”

His warm hand caresses up and down your thigh, reassuring you as you attempt to muster up the right words, “I- I like it. But, um, c-could you… could you, maybe go… softer?”

Oikawa chuckles to himself, as he settles back in. Of course. How could he allow himself to get so carried away? His little cutie was delicate, so utterly sensitive to his every touch. He needed to keep in mind that he couldn’t just ravage you at every stop.

(Even if the thought was a little more than enticing).

And ah, there it is. That’s the sound he was looking for. Oikawa knows he’s got it right when you’re squirming in his hold, sharp whimpers and mewls bubbling out of your lips over, and over, and over again. So he swipes his tongue the same way you seem to enjoy so much.

Over, and over, and over again.

You’ve shed away all inhibitions now, shamelessly grinding your cunt against his face, smearing your slick all over his chin and cheeks. His peripherals roam up your quivering body, settling on your face. Your neck is jerked forward slightly, granting him the perfect view of your expression. You have your eyes screwed shut, mouth pulled slack, cheeks reddened and slightly wet with your spit running down the sides.

Fuck. You’re gorgeous like this. Oikawa wants to brand the image into his memory, keep it safe so it can resurface every time he’s alone and got his hand wrapped around his dick as he thinks about you. Or maybe... maybe, you’d even let him get a camera to record it?

Well, he’ll have to remember to ask about it, but later. Because suddenly, your tiny fingers are tangling themselves in his chocolate locks, your lips sobbing a string of “Tooru! Tooru! Tooru!” You cum violently, messily as your cunt practically drools on to his tongue. Oikawa eats you through it, letting you ride out the waves of your pleasure on his flattened tongue.

And then, he keeps going.

He doesn’t pull away even as you cry out at the oversensitivity, your knee knocking into his temple in a frenzied restlessness. Oikawa simply grips your hips down into the mattress and keeps his tongue buried in the folds of your hot cunt, tangling his tongue against the little nub. He only settles back once you’ve cum again, sending a fresh new pool of slickness dripping down his chin.

You don’t expect it when he surges up to place his body on top of yours, his lips already finding yours in a hungry kiss. It’s messy, with your release smearing all over your cheeks and chin from his face. Oikawa pulls away once he’s satisfied, giving you the chance to finally, finally catch a short breath. He grins at the fresh slick now coating your lower face.

Parting your lips with his thumb, he smears it across your tongue, grinning as he asks, “Tastes good, don’t you think?”

He watches as you tilt your face to the side, casting your eyes away from his piercing gaze. You respond with a shy nod.

“So, cutie,” Oikawa begins, a smug smirk on his face, “You must be pretty tired, I don’t think you can handle my cock right away. Maybe we should leave it at this, hmm?”

And fuck, it’s all worth it when he sees the desperation, the pure need on your face when you rush to grip on to his forearm, begging him to keep going, that you could take whatever he had to give you, that you needed something to fill you up.

Sure enough, when he glances down, he sees how your cunt pulsates, clenching around nothing. Fuck, he wasn’t going to be able to hold back.

“Since you seem so insistent,” he feigns a cocky tone, as if he isn’t the one with the raging boner, “You want me to fuck you then? Stretch you out with my cock?”

You remain silent, choosing to nod again. Oh, that wouldn’t do. “No, no,” Oikawa shakes his head in disapproval, “Use your words, baby.”

“Want you to-” your lower lip trembles as you speak, the embarrassment causing hot tears to gather at the corners of your closed eyes, “want you to- to f-fuck me… Tooru...”

Hearing such filth escape your lips is the last straw. His patience is now replaced by a ferocious need, a craving, a hunger.

From that point, the rest feels like a fever dream. Oikawa remembers sheathing himself in you, gritting his teeth and hissing as your tight cunt somehow manages to resist the entry of his cock while simultaneously sucking him in deeper. He can feel the sharp sting of your nails as they scramble for purchase on the sweat sheened surface of his broad back.

He definitely remembers the way you tighten up as you cum, your body succumbing to his strong thrusts and harsh rutting against your clit. The silky walls of your cunt clamp up around his dick, making him have to work harder and harder to move every inch.

Oikawa recalls you whimpering into his ear, sobbing about how it was too much, how you couldn’t handle more, how you were far too sensitive. And yet, he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, because it’s you who is pulling his hips deeper into you with your legs, and it’s you who has got your arms wrapped around his shoulders in a deadlock.

What Oikawa can picture most vividly, however, is you cupping his flushed cheeks, pressing your lips against his in a sweet kiss. The tenderness of your touch, of your warm mouth, of you, so soft and pliant under him - it’s all such a stark contrast to the harshness of his thrusts.

Then, your gentle voice is at his ear again, but this time you’re telling him you love him, you love him, you love him, you-

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ*⋆.*:･ﾟ: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

The room is dense with the sound of your staggering breaths intermingling with his.

For a moment, Oikawa allows himself to black the world out, closing his eyes and resting his head against your heaving breasts. He can faintly feel a soft pressure against his temple - he realizes that it’s your lips, planting one, two, three kisses along his skin.

Lifting his head up, Oikawa allows his eyes to fall open, so they can face yours.

And then, you’re both breaking out into giggles.

“Fuck, you deserve an Oscar for that.”

“God, yeah, I definitely do,” you laugh, “Hell, I almost believed myself during some of it.”

“It was incredible, baby. Really,” Oikawa’s tone grows uncharacteristically hesitant as he continues, “But… you enjoyed it too, right? Wasn’t uncomfortable or anything?”

“Relax, Tooru. No, I wasn’t uncomfortable,” you shake your head, your hands moving to gently cup his face. “I knew I could trust you. Besides, t’was fun playing pillow princess for a bit. But, uh...” you stretch out your leg, wincing at the ache, “my thigh is sore as a bitch right now.”

He chuckles at that, a long arm already extending down your leg to massage the cramps away.

“Really though, who would’ve guessed - world famous athlete Oikawa Tooru is really a freak who fantasizes about ruining his-” you snicker as you make a mock attempt at imitating his silky tone, “his ‘innocent little cutie’ of a girlfriend.”

“Hey! It’s not that weird,” Oikawa whines defensively. “But, fuck, you really pulled some of that stuff straight out of my fantasies. Like, that whole thing about not being able to touch yourself properly because you needed me to get you off? It’s so-”

“I would like to interject and remind you that you cannot possibly expect me to believe that you’d know how to get me off better than I would. No fucking way a dude knows my body better than I do. That’s some weird porn shit right there.”

“Shhh, it’s a nice fantasy, though - my girl fucking herself silly on her fingers, only to get frustrated when she can’t cum because it doesn’t feel right and she needs me to do it for her. Don’t spoil it, let a man dream.”

You roll your eyes at him, flicking his forehead with your finger, but nonetheless, pull his head back against your chest. Oikawa settles against you with a satisfied yawn, strong arms wrapped tight around your middle.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, Tooru...”

Oh no.

He can feel the incessant tapping of your fingers against his fingers. Looking up, he groans at the sight of the mischievous grin on your face.

“I know you want to,” he sighs, “Just say it.”

“...even if you are a freak.”

#oikawa x reader #oikawa smut #oikawa tooru x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #oikawa tooru #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!

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kiss-inthekitchen · 3 years

Text

all that you ask of me | loki laufeyson

summary: you and Loki have a discussion about your kinks, and you learn something about him that you weren’t expecting

wc: 1.5k

warnings: smutty themes!! talk of bdsm, both reader and loki are switches and they aren't chill about it, teasing, light degradation but in a cute way, sub!loki, dom!loki, f!reader. loki has huge bisexual switch energy and i had to put it in a fic

a/n: title is kind of unrelated lol it makes more sense in the next chapter. pls let me know if you like it, i love when u guys leave comments or tags !

It’s been a few weeks since you and Loki had started dating and your sexual chemistry has been insane, which was a surprise to neither of you. You’d started out as friends, and even then, any time Loki had so much as brushed his fingers along your skin you felt something akin to electricity spike through your body. And though he was loath to admit it at first, Loki felt the same. So, once you finally gave in to your mutual feelings for each other, things only got more exciting.

Though the two of you had been having sex for weeks, you hadn’t really done anything too spicy yet, still getting used to this new aspect of your relationship. Now, though, you’d decided it would be a good idea to get it all out there, rather than try to figure it out as you went along. Besides, something about the idea of talking things out with Loki like it was nothing more than a casual conversation was thrilling to you.

You and Loki were sitting on the couch, your legs resting in his lap as he absentmindedly soothed circles into one of your calves. You smiled fondly at the way he always had to be touching some part of you. The two of you had covered a few topics already, going over safewords (you were partial to the traffic light system, and Loki agreed) and some of your hard limits, and now you were on to the fun part. Specifically, a rather exciting interest your partner had just confessed to.

“You know,” you mused, unable to keep the teasing smile off your face, “I wouldn’t have expected you to be into submission, what with your whole...thing.”

“My whole thing?” He repeated, raising his eyebrows at your choice of words. You suppressed a laugh. He probably would’ve spent more time on his faux outrage if the look on your face wasn’t so damn cute. “Yes, well. I am full of surprises, aren’t I?”

You hummed in response. “I mean, I had hoped you’d be into it. Or, I guess, fantasized, would be the better w-”

“Did you?” He cut you off, sounding all too pleased.

“Oh, for a while now,” you smirked.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he said, the admiration in his eyes shifting to smugness as he continued, “I wouldn’t expect you to be a dom, what with your whole thing.”

You made a show of rolling your eyes at him. He wasn’t wrong, though. Compared to Loki, you were much more bubbly and warm, not that he was really so cold anymore, but he was still… him. On top of that, your style tended to lean more toward pastel colors, though lately you were known to also rock some dark green tones. You supposed that from the outside, people would assume you to be the more submissive one in the relationship. Which you definitely could be, but your tastes went both ways.

“Okay, I deserved that,” you relented. “Now come on, tell me what I want to know.”

“Okay, well. I’ve no problem with bondage, as I’m sure you know.”

“You do seem to end up in chains quite often, my love. But... not sexually?” You’d meant for it to be a statement, but then you realized you actually had no idea, your voice lilting up into a question.

He fixed you with a look that very clearly told you you’d been wrong.

Well, okay then. “Right,” you responded, a little breathier than before, trying not to let your imagination run wild just yet. Loki squeezed your ankle playfully, bringing you back before you could lose focus. “So, is there anything you’re not okay with, bondage-wise? Like, collars, ties, cuffs…?” You trailed off.

He thought for a moment. “No, it’s all fine with me. What about you?”

“Cuffs kinda freak me out, actually. I don’t have superhuman strength and all.”

“Noted. Oh, one thing I do want to mention- I’m going to have to ask that you refer to me exclusively as ‘Your Majesty’ when I’m in charge,” he said, expression unwavering.

Your mouth dropped open for a second before you asked, “Wait, seriously?”

He broke into a mischievous grin. “No. But if you’d really like to, I suppose I wouldn’t stop you,” he said the last bit thoughtfully, and you playfully hit his arm with the back of your hand in admonishment. “Ooh, harder,” he said, still with an air of mischief, though you got the sense he wasn’t entirely kidding.

“Loki!” you gasped.

“Alright,” he laughed lightly. “Great God of Mischief will work just as well.”

“I am not calling you that.”

“You’re being so difficult.”

“Will you just tell me what you like to be called already? If you carry on like this, I swear, I will call you Captain.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, glaring at you, and you raised an eyebrow as if to ask, care to test that theory? “Okay, I yield. But, honestly, it depends on the scene. If you’re comfortable with it, I’ll have you call me ‘sir’ most of the time, ‘daddy’ on special occasions. You’re a smart girl. I trust that you’ll know when those occasions come about.”

You just nodded, your mouth suddenly feeling dry. Why were you having such a reaction to Loki calling you a smart girl? He’d definitely noticed.

“What would you like to be called? When you’re the dominant?” Loki asked, saving you from your thought spiral.

“Oh, um. Ma’am is fine. None of the other terms really work for me, I don’t know why, they just seem kind of… too much, I guess,” you over-explained, feeling your cheeks start to heat up.

“Ma’am is just fine?” Loki pressed.

“No, it’s- it’s good. I, um, really like it.” Your cheeks flamed even hotter now, your gaze trained on the couch cushion.

Loki reached out and lifted your chin gently with his thumb and forefinger, making you look at him. “Come now, you were doing so well. Don’t get shy on me now,” he said, voice taking on that deep timbre that made you feel like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Okay,” you breathed, your mind gone completely blank as you looked at him.

“Good girl,” he said softly. He didn’t miss the way your body reacted to the praise, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

Bastard. You narrowed your eyes at him, shaking your head slightly to clear it. “That’s not fair,” you countered weakly.

“Isn’t it? I’m just trying to figure out what you like,” he feigned innocence.

“Right,” you said, only a little petulantly, trying to think of what else you wanted to ask him before he’d distracted you. “How do you feel about degradation?” You blurted out. “Receiving, I mean.”

That caught him off guard, to your great enjoyment. “I- I’m not sure. No one’s ever tried it.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been tied up but no one’s ever called you names?”

“No,” he responded, frowning slightly. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I think I might be okay with it.”

“My honey, you’ve been so deprived,” you said with a pout. It was your turn to have a little fun now. “So,” you started, trailing your fingertips up his forearm, drawing his attention to your touch before you continued. “If, for example, I had you on your knees, and you were being so good for me, and I just happened to call you my obedient little slut-” he inhaled sharply, and you couldn’t help but grin, “-you would, theoretically, be okay with that?” You looked up into his eyes, seeing the flash of desire that had settled there.

“I think that would be acceptable,” he spoke, clearly putting in effort to keep his voice even.

You smiled, pleased with yourself. It was cute that he still tried to seem unaffected when you could literally feel the way his cock had stiffened against you. You shifted the position of your leg in his lap, lightly brushing against him, and he gasped.

“Pathetic,” you chide.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. As much as he may try to seem unimpressed with your teasing, he was certainly susceptible to it. “If you want us to get through the rest of the conversation, you’re going to have to stop that,” he says, but it comes out more like a plea than an order, and he’s sure that you’re going to be the death of him.

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Oh, this is gonna be so much fun.”

“It seems I’ve underestimated you, dearest,” he says, tone laced through with affection.

You bring a hand up to cup his cheek, drawing him closer to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

“Well, that’s a mistake we won’t make twice. Isn’t it, love?”

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #sub!loki #dom!loki #mcu loki #i had too much fun writing this lmao #it's the switching for me!!!#bisexual switch messes only in this house <3 #my fics #pls interact w this if you liked it i need validation lol

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samuel-de-champagne-problems · 3 years

Text

I Can’t Say Anything to Your Face

Summary: Lunchtime is Spencer Reid’s favorite time of day and not because of the crappy endless coffee, dry sandwiches, or the occasional chocolate donut. Spencer’s favorite time of day comes in the shape of a little post it notes and fits perfectly into his heart.

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Content: Fluff (1 use of a$$)

Author’s Note: The idea of for this came from @shemarmooresfedora for giving Spencer compliment cards

Word Count: 2.6 K

I Can't Say Anything To Your Face

When Spencer checks his watch for the twelfth time that day, he can practically feel Derek’s eyes roll. He tries to cover up his action by picking at his sleeve, but that just seems to draw attention to the situation. Derek raises his eyebrows at Spencer, as if to tell him, I saw that.

When it comes to teasing Spencer, Derek doesn’t miss a beat.

The team, minus Derek and Spencer, continue to work diligently. JJ walks back and forth from her office to Hotch’s, constantly shuffling through piles and piles of paperwork. Emily seems to keep herself busy with the 33 tabs that she has open on her screen. Y/N, who’s tongue slips out of her teeth in concentration, doesn’t look up from her mound of case files. Spencer likes studying how each of the members of his team works, but he particularly likes to watch Y/N. She always sticks her tongue out when she’s deep in thought. Sometimes she’ll close her eyes and rub the butt of her palm against them. Other times she’ll push her glasses up on top of her head and her hair frames her face perfectly. Spencer couldn’t care less what she looked like or how she wore her hair, but watching her was his favorite part of the day.

In a totally platonic, non-creepy way.

A beep distracts Spencer from being distracted by Y/N. It’s an IM from Derek, telling him something to the effect of asking Y/N out. Instead of responding, Spencer decides to send Derek a more direct message. He shuts off his computer, which isn’t really used, besides for Y/N to send Spencer requests for online scrabble.

Spencer, ignoring Derek’s gloating, walks from the bullpen into the team’s lunch room. It’s a small kitchenette with a couple tables, a very old coffee machine, and an even older refrigerator. Peeking into the refrigerator, Spencer takes out two lunch boxes. One is light green with patterned purple and orange dinosaurs all over and the other is a light blue with green plants. Like clockwork, Y/N rounds the corner with a smile plastered to her face.

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Spencer asks, placing his lunch box down across from Y/N’s seat.

“It’s just my favorite time of day,” Y/N responds, unzipping her bag and taking out her banana, water bottle, granola, and turkey sandwich.

Spencer tries to hold back his smile at Y/N saying that lunch is her favorite time of day. He likes to believe that it’s because of him and not because of the top tier kitchen facility the government provides for them. But who’s he kidding, there’s no way that lunch is Y/N favorite part of the day because of Spencer when he’s up against a crappy coffee maker.

“Did you know that sandwiches were only called sandwiches because the Earl of Sandwich ate his meals with bread, meat and cheese like modern day sandwiches? However, there’s much debate if sandwiches existed prior to this. Researchers actually believe that sandwiches were simply referred to as bread and meat or bread cheese, depending on the ingredients. There’s hundreds of works of literature that help to determine this,” Spencer says, as he unwraps his leftovers from dinner the previous night.

Y/N, who takes a bite of her turkey sandwich, listens intently to Spencer’s oral history of sandwiches. She starts to respond to Spencer, but before she can even get the chance, Derek interjects into the conversation.

“Hold your horses, there Reid,” Derek says, his voice tainted with sarcasm and Spencer braces himself for a clipping comment, “you don’t want to scare away the newbie,”

Y/N, ever quick witted, rolls her eyes dramatically at Derek. She gets up and moves her seat closer to Spencer who’s heart rate, at the thought of her sitting even closer to him, speeds up. He knows that it's just an effort to tease Derek. That she'd rather suffer next to Spencer, than to have to entertain the idea of sitting next to Derek. But still, Spencer is a dreamer; he'd like to think she'd sit next to him even without the added bonus at avoiding Derek's playful teasing.

“Derek, leave Spencer alone, I happen to adore his facts. You know, I’ve seen I’ve been here I’ve been a Jeopardy beast. And when are you going to realize that I’m not a newbie, I’ve been here for what 2 years-”

“2 years, 4 months, and 4 days,” Spencer says, cursing himself silently for interrupting Y/N.

Derek grabs his lunch from the refrigerator, and sits down across from Spencer and Y/N.

“You remember the day I started?” Y/N asks, turning her attention from Derek to Spencer, whose face is twisted in what he can only assume is an extremely unattractive deer-in-head-lights look. He shrugs off Y/N’s comment, as if to say it’s just normal for him.

"Of course I do, I remember how long each of us has been here,"

"Oh, right. Eidetic Memory," Y/N mumbles, almost like she's slightly disappointed in something.

Suddenly Spencer’s mouth is quite dry; he reaches into his lunch bag to grab his water bottle, but his fingers brush across a small card taped to the outside. Forgetting that showing the card to Morgan would give him enough ammunition for the rest of day, Spencer quickly scans the card. It’s a small piece of paper, but it suddenly has become Spencer’s most treasured object. More than the set of Chaucer tales that his mother gave him, or Gideon’s watch, or his first microscope that his biology teacher in high school gave him at his graduation.

The one side of the card is decorated in small hearts and there’s a sketch of a dinosaur on the other side. In careful handwriting, the giver of the card wrote “Are you made of Nickel, Cerium, Arsenic, and Sulfur? Because you got a NiCe AsS!”

Spencer’s eyes grow a couple sizes once his brain registers the meaning of the card. Handling it less than gracefully, he chokes on his water, which catches Derek and Y/N’s attention.

“You okay there, Spence?’ Derek asks, questioning what sent Spencer coughing and choking on water like that.

Spencer, not wanting Y/N or Derek, especially Derek, to read the card, attempts to put it in the front pocket of his lunch box. Unfortunately, Derek catches sight of the card and snatches it out of Spencer’s hand.

“Derek!” Spencer whines.

He can feel his embarrassment deepen as Morgan’s smile grows. Spencer seriously thinks that this is how he’s going to die. His death, being in his line of work, is something that plagues his thoughts from time to time, but any gory hero’s death pales in comparison to Derek Morgan reading Spencer’s love notes about his ass.

“Nice ass? I’m not too sure about this, Reid, but looks like your secret lover likes your ass just as much as your brains,” Derek teases, handing back Spencer his card.

“Those are private,” Spencer says, grateful that Derek’s going to leave him alone, places the card back in it’s temporary resting spot near his driver’s license and photographs of him and Y/N at the arcade.

“Hey man, I was just going to put in that shoe box you have tucked under your desk, you must have hundreds of them by now,” Derek says, taking a bite of his ham and cheese wrap. His eyes dash between Spencer and Y/N, like the pair of them is the most entertaining reality show he could think of.

“I have 645, now,” Spencer says, unable to help himself much to Derek’s amusement. Spencer hears the chair next to him screech and Y/N rushes to pack up her half eaten lunch.

“I completely forgot, Anderson needs me to uh, help him with something,” Y/N says, stuffing her water bottle into her lunch box in a flustered state. Spencer watches as she rushes, her need to leave the kitchenette quite evident. Spencer is left wondering why she has to go see Anderson, of all people.

“Anderson? What does he want with you? I don’t remember Hotch saying anything about that,” Spencer says, his voice comes off a little more bitter than he indented.

“Maybe Anderson has some extracurriculars that he needs Y/N’s help with Spencer,” Derek says with a wink. Spencer’s brow tightens and his blush deepens as if he’s trying to decipher the way that Derek’s voice is laced with suggestion. The only logical conclusion is that Y/N is flustered because she’s sneaking off to see Anderson, because she likes him.

Y/N likes Anderson? Something about that doesn’t taste right in Spencer’s mouth.

Like the wind, Y/N is gone and all that remains is Derek’s sly chuckle.

“What!” Spencer says, much too loud for him to continue the coy and unassuming demeanor he usually produces when Y/N gets hit on at the bar or on case by local cops.

“Nothing, Reid. You're just clueless. Just think about how many of those little compliment cards you’ve gotten,” Derek says. He reaches into Spencer’s lunch box and takes his brownie. Usually, Spencer would have protested, but Derek’s words sent him into a confused spiral.

“645,” Spencer responds.

“Okay,” Derek continues, “645 days you’ve gotten those cute little cards in your lunch box or taped to your hotel room door on cases. Now, Reid think. How many years, months, and days, is 645 days”

“That’s 2 years, 4 months, and 3 days,” Spencer starts, “now given if it’s a Leap Year that could change it a little bit bit-”

“Think about it Reid,” Derek says, talking slowly to get the words sink in and hoping that he doesn’t have to spell it out for him.

“Y/N?” Spencer asks, kind of like he can’t believe it, but desperately wants to believe it at the same time.

“Y/N,” Derek repeats, “I’m surprised it’s taken you this long, Reid. She’s been making eyes at you the day she’s gotten here. It’s almost sickening to watch you to dance around each other,”

“Y/N,” Spencer says, it’s like he’s saying her name for the first time. It’s the most beautiful string of syllables to ever come from his lips.

Spencer pushes back the chair and swings the door open. As he walks to Y/N’s desk he gets distracted by the little brown shoe box that sticks out slightly from under his desk. He crouches down and picks it up, hoping that it can be helpful. He approaches Y/N’s desk, but JJ stops him before he can go closer.

“Stairwell,” Is all she says before she brushes past with an armful of case files. Spencer, heading JJ’s advice, practically runs to the stairwell. As he approaches he can hear quiet sobs, which he can only imagine are Y/N’s.

Spencer opens the door and Y/N, startled, stands up and tries to mop the tears away from her face.

“Spencer, oh god, I didn’t know you were here, I’m okay, it’s just me being a little silly,” she says, trying to laugh through what she can only assume is going to be rejection.

“I really hope you don’t think these are silly, well some are kind of silly, but others were very poetic,” Spencer says, taking a step forward and gesturing with the shoe box to make it obvious to Y/N that he’s talking about the compliment cards.

“What are you talking about, Spencer?” Y/N says, feigning ignorance.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N. You're much too smart to play dumb,” Spencer says, moving closer to Y/N so he can wipe her tear-stricken face with the sleeve of his soft cardigan. He tries not to focus on the way that Y/N seems to melt into his touch. He knows that if he can get another touch of that, he’ll never want to touch another person ever again.

“I’m not playing dumb, Spence. I just never planned for you to find out,” Y/N mumbles. Spencer’s face resembles a mix between shock and confusion.

“Why would you not tell me, I don’t think I made it anything but obvious that I’m crazy about you,” Spencer says, deeply wondering why Y/N would ever hide something like this from him.

“God Spencer, have you ever looked in a mirror?” Y/N asks him, sitting down on the third step, “you’re so gorgeous, Spencer, I can’t say anything to your face. So the next best thing was to write down everything that I wanted to say to you,” Y/N finishes, a little embarrassed. She tries to hide that embarrassment by not making eye contact with Spencer, who sits down next to her.

“You think I’m gorgeous?” Spencer asks, not entirely sure that he heard her correctly.

Y/N peaks at him with teary eyes and a runny nose. Spencer thanks science and the universe for his Eidetic Memory. He knows that there won’t be a single day of his life that he won’t want to think back to this day and remember the way that Y/N looked when she first told him that she thinks he’s gorgeous.

“I think you’re the most beautiful person that I’ve ever seen,” Y/N says breathily, her voice laced with restraint. She’s terrified of rejection, terrified that Spencer will turn her down still.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that,” Spencer says, equally as quiet and equally as terrified. He notices that Y/N’s hand creeps closer to his. Spencer is itching to intertwine it to his and never let go.

“You deserve to hear it more often, hence the cards,” Y/N explains, moving her hand even more closer to Spencer’s. He has no choice but to wrap his much larger one in Y/N’s smaller one.

“You meant it, right?” Spencer asks, bravely putting her heart out there on the line, “because if you did Y/N, that I’d really like to kiss you right now. But if you didn’t then that’s-”

Spencer tries to finish the sentence, to give Y/N an out, but somehow she doesn’t take it. Somehow she decides to kiss him.

Spencer has kissed a total of three people in his entire life, but none of them ever mattered again the second he feels Y/N’s lips against his and her hands in his hair. Spencer doesn’t complain when Y/N starts to set the pace. Her lips roam across his face. They venture across his jaw, up closer to his nose and then back down to his lips. Spencer had no clue Y/N can kiss like this. It's a little passionate for a first kiss, but maybe it's just the pent up tension and frustration 2 years in the making finally being let out. He's dreamt of the way that Y/N's pillowy lips would feel when they were finally pressed up against his. Spencer, from the fibers that make him up to the hormones that surge throughout his body, tries to be brave. He places his hands so they rest on Y/N’s neck. He’s not passive, but he’s happy to sit back and let Y/N have her way as she continues her feverish assault on his lips.

Her ministrations are interrupted, however, when the box of cards falls from Spencer’s lap. It seems to remind both of them that they are in the stairwell of the FBI making out like over zealous teenagers for the first time. Y/N lets out a small giggle. Spencer wishes he can write down the feeling it gives him and tuck it away safely in a shoe box.

“I hope you know that those compliments aren’t platonic, Spencer. I really do think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Y/N says, her fingers gravitating to the brown curls behind Spencer’s ears. He has the softest, silkiest hair she’s ever felt.

“That’s a good thing, Y/N, because you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,”

Standing up, Y/N winks and pecks Spencer on the cheek, “I hate to break it to you, darling, but I think I win when it comes compliments,”

--Thank you for reading--

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

On the Coffee Table - It’s Not Entirely Comfortable (Eyeless Jack X F!Reader)

[Eyeless Jack X F!Reader]

[Warnings: NSFT, creampie, rough sex, degrading, slight praise, “daddy”, “good girl”, marking - like, biting and love bites, jealous/possessive sex, squirting, slight blood? Nothing major though, also there’s three tongues in here and once again, a knotted dick/knotting. If you are a minor, DNI]

[AN: I started this at 2 am trying to finish it after downing some melatonin and only finished it now. Please tell me if I translated wrong!! I unfortunately only speak English. Doja Cat - Freak. This is 5.3K words.]

Part 1 Part 2

Jack trusts you so, so much. That much is apparent. It’s been about a month or so since he took you away from your old life, and you’ve never been happier. In fact, it’s been nothing but good things!

Why do you say that? Jack is so sweet, caring, and attentive. He knows what you want when you need it, and still, you’ve only ever kissed him.

In a sense, it’s maddening, but at the same time, it’s kinda cute. You like that he’s willing to go at your pace, and you like that he’s so mindful of how you’re feeling at any and every moment. You’re just really, really happy he chose you.

When that man from the grocery store came up to you, trying to speak to you… Well, you thought he just wanted some help! Honest to goodness, you had no idea what he was trying to do. Which is quite odd, considering you’ve been considered a goddess in your own right figuring those tells from miles and continents away.

You stood at the cart, waiting patiently for Jack to come back from the other side of the grocery story because something you’d wanted slipped his mind. So, you familiarized yourself with the fresh produce instead, looking over the pretty colors before that cute little shower system kicked on paired with the little rain noises as they gave water to the vegetables.

You were honestly minding your own business when some man came up to you, a shy smile on his face.

“Uh, hello, ma’am?” He started, a pack of berries in his hand.

You whip around and turn your attention to him, putting down the leaks as you did so. “Yes?”

“Do you know how this is pronounced?” He said. “Is it… A-kai..?”

You motioned for him to come a little closer - close enough for your shoulders to brush up against each other. Your eyes scanned over the words. “Oh! It’s açaí ,” you giggled as you read over the words.

“A-sigh?”

“Açaí,” you repeated with a small smile. “See? Say it with me,” you said, as you watched the man’s face light up.

“Oh, okay, açaí,” he finally said correctly, that same smile bloomed on his face. “Y’know, you’re really good at this,” he smiled.

You lit up. “Thank you!” Beaming, you gave him your full attention.

“It’s nothing, did you take Spanish?” He inquired, still maintaining his close distance to you.

You nodded vigorously. “I took four years of Spanish in high school. Señora Chika always said I had an ear for language,” you said in a semi-serious tone, index finger tapping your right ear lobe in a way that made that man blush.

The man smiled back. “That’s so nice to hear,” he continued, building off your words. “Look, I’m gonna be going to Mexico pretty soon, it’s a work thing,” he brushed off, “and I wanna know if I could get some of your tutoring services?”

You blinked a few times. “Me?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “I think you would make an excellent-”

“An excellent what?” Jack’s clipped voice cut through, his glamour’s eyes glaring deeply at the man who dares breathing in the same air as you. When he saw the man pause, he waved his hand a bit as if to signal him to hurry it up. “She’d make an excellent what?”

“It’s… It’s nothing,” he mumbled before brushing past you and Jack. “Didn’t know she had a boyfriend, sorry,” he harshly apologized as he disappeared back into the aisles.

You tilted your head as you looked up at Jack. “What about his Spanish lessons?”

Jack sighed in deeply and took hold of the cart, tossing the thing you asked for back into it. “Él no quería clases de español.”

Your eyes widened in response. “Oh.”

Jack was silent to you the entire car ride back home, and you wondered if it was because that man came up to talk with you. You frowned in the seat. You honestly didn’t know that man’s intentions! You didn’t mean to push Jack’s buttons like that, in fact, you didn’t even know that man was flirting with you! He came up asking about pronunciation, not a number!

You pouted all the way until you made it back home, helping him bring the groceries back in as you did so.

“Put this one in the freezer,” he said as that frown continually pulled his lips downwards.

When you opened the fridge, he tsked his tongue.

“The freezer.”

You relented and did as he asked. Once it was in, he nodded at the now empty bags and began balling them up to throw away, maybe reuse and put in the bag drawer before leaving you to yourself.

And that’s how the rest of the day went. Jack looked like such a stick in the mud and you couldn’t stand it. What was eating him up so much?

You decide to confront him after dinner when the two of you are sitting on the sofa, watching some stupid program you don’t really care for. You just know you like being near him.

“Why are you being such a jerk?” You ask out of the blue as the program moves to commercials.

Jack visibly tenses before he relaxes again, raising his eyebrow. “Excuse me?” He deadpans, almost surprised you have the gall to speak to him in such a manner.

You huff and cross your arms over your chest as you turn fully towards him, brows furrowed and face cross with frustration over his behavior. “You heard me the first time,” you reply. When you watch his expression turn from vague amusement to slight anger, you backtrack. “I just - why are you so mad at me?” You finally ask, your eyes dark and stormy. “What on the gods green earth could I have done to offend you so greatly?” You huff, arms still crossed and face determined.

Jack lowers his eyebrows and reclines back, trying to give you the illusion that he’s not interested in your challenge. “You wanna rethink that tone?” He hums. “You’re messing with fire.” There’s a slight tease that laces his words and you catch it ever so slightly.

You’ve heard that tease before. “Maybe… Maybe I wanna feel the heat,” you murmur, voice dipping to something low and sultry. You uncross your arms on your chest and move your hands over to his lap.

Jack watches you carefully as he feels your index and middle fingers walk up his thigh and to his chest. “You’re gonna get burned.” His voice is so much lower and more alluring than whatever he was showing to you before.

Your eyes sparkle as your fingertips walk up to the neck of his hoodie, hooking in it and pulling slightly as if you’re asking him to take it off. “Maybe you’ll just have to kiss it better,” you mumble, bringing your lips closer and closer to his.

Jack doesn’t move and instead, allows you to lean in further and further. He’s got a budding smirk on his lips as you draw closer, his dark sockets watching you with intrigue.

You finally press your lips to his, eyes closing as he invites you further and further into him. You smile through the kiss, and giggle when his hands hook around your waist and sling you onto his lap, your thighs now resting on either side of him, bottom planted firmly on his thighs.

“You’ve been such a bad girl,” he mutters through the kiss as you move more fervently against his lips, his clawed fingertips now digging into the curve of your ass.

“Have I?” You breathe against him before smashing your lips back onto his, your heart rate already picking up and drumming wildly in your chest. You feel it’s harder and harder to breathe as he practically crushes you against his chest.

“You have,” he reaffirms, briefly disconnecting from you. “And that means you’re going to get punished for it.”

You practically squeal in delight as Jack’s sharp claws dig into the hem of your shirt and travel upwards, cutting through the fabric like it’s nothing. The torn fabric drops from beside you like it’s weightless, leaving you just shy of being exposed.

“You want me to break this too?” He hums, his fingers lightly feathering up your back to the clasp on your bra.

“I don’t care,” you giggle, leaning into his warmth.

Jack hums again and decides on unclipping it, briefly cooing in amusement as you lean back on his lap and slip the thing off before tossing it over your shoulder. He whistles deeply as he gazes at your chest. One of his hands plants back down on the curve of your ass before sliding back up to cup your chest, his large hands practically engulfing your breasts in their entirety.

You giggle once more and move your hand upwards to rest on top of his, gripping him gently and pushing him just a bit harder as he fondles you. You feel a rush of excitement every time his claws just barely ghost your nipples.

“No,” he suddenly says, his hand leaving your bottom half to pry you off of him. “You don’t have a right to touch me tonight,” he states as if it was nothing. He gestures to your hands. “Keep them on your thighs or on the back of the couch,” he commands, watching as you pout and settle on gripping your thighs. He smiles devilishly at you. “Good girl.”

You break your pout for a moment before he squeezes your breast, making heat rise to your face. The warmth that he gives off is almost intoxicating. You’re almost lost in it when he suddenly leaves, picking you up and off his lap, almost roughly placing you onto the far end of the sofa. You’re looking up at him with wide eyes as his fingers hook into the waistband of your pants.

He hesitates.

“Well?” You egg him on. “What are you waiting for?”

And just like that, Jack is tearing your pants off, his claws slicing through the material like it’s nothing. You watch as he towers over you, snaking in between your legs as he pries them open. Jack’s face goes dark as he cuts off your underwear, his clawed fingers tracing your already glistening cunt.

Your mind goes blank when you catch him smirking and three long, thick, inky black tongues slip from his mouth, twirling and twisting against each other like snakes as they creep over each other, dripping with clear saliva. The tip of the longest tongue - which you recognize as the middle one - slinks forward and broadly licks you from top to bottom, making your thighs tense on instinct. Then, it takes a few more teasing licks, mostly building you up, wondering to see if you’re getting impatient, testy.

“EJ-” you barely wisp out before the middle tongue finally slips in past your already puffy lips, slowly, dragging against your walls lightly moving back and forth as it slips deeper and deeper in.

You let out a ragged moan at the sudden contact, thighs tensing once more. This action garners Jack’s attention and his arms maneuver under your slightly propped up legs, his claws digging into the soft flesh of your thighs. It’s not hard enough to draw blood, but it’s enough to remind you of your place. You bite your lip in pure ecstasy as his middle tongue wiggles inside of you, thrusting light as it does so, his second tongue lathering your lips up in his saliva and applying delicious pressure to you. His third tongue begins to prod your pearl, and when it finally touches, you hiss in the contact.

You honestly didn’t realize just how warm he was. It gently circles your clit before taking slow, languid kitten licks, working you up to little circles that render his hands free to keep you from bucking him. Your wandering hands, which you had been gripping in vain on the cushions of the couch for support, feel useless under your iron grip. On instinct, your hands fly down to Jack’s head, wanting to push his face in deeper but he pauses.

His middle tongue stops twisting and curling inside of you, it’s no longer hitting that spot that has you seeing stars and his other tongues have retracted entirely.

You pout. “You’re such a meanie!” You exclaim as you throw your head back down onto the arm of the couch.

He shoots you a look as his tongue begins to retreat from your pussy, almost as if he’s asking if you want to rethink that statement.

You feel a heat rush to your cheeks.

He gives you that look again, eyebrows lowering and lids halving. There’s a faint smirk on his lips as he seemingly gestures to your hands, telling you to keep them to yourself. Jack is telling you that you aren’t allowed to touch him right now.

You glance away before he hums against your aching cunt, his tongue retreating from you just a little faster. You relent. “I’m sorry,” you mumble.

His brow raises. ‘What else?’

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you finally say before cutting yourself off with a loud gasp as Jack’s tongues are once again on the assault. His middle tongue is fucking your pussy with a heat you didn’t know possible, and you can barely even think as he rubs and sucks at your clit with his others. You feel his lips lightly graze you every now and then, his shark-like teeth coming dangerously close to nipping you but you don’t care.

In frustration, you ball your hands in fists and throw your arms over your head, struggling in vain to not touch yourself or Jack as he works you closer and closer to the edge. Your pussy feels like an ocean by how hard he’s working you, and the sounds that come out of your mouth are just downright sinful.

Jack’s thumb rubs small circles on your thighs, almost as if he’s complimenting you for not touching him before he works you closer and closer to the edge.

You clamp your eyes shut and arch your back as he removes his second tongue from your lips and wiggles it in with a powerful thrust from his middle tongue, the two intertwining and combining, bringing a new sensation to your overloaded cunt. Sweat beads all over your body as he thrusts a bit harder and flexes, the sudden thickness making your stomach and heart flutter.

His third tongue remains playing with your clit, circling and licking.

You can practically hear Jack goading you to cum.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whine, your thighs threatneing to clamp shut but Jack’s strong grasp holding you wide open and accessible for him. “Fuck!” You cry out again, back arching once more, hands balling so hard into fists you feel like they’re going to fall off and a raw cry of ecstasy pouring from your lips as you release onto his face, coating his tongues and face in nectar.

The white hot pleasure continues to bead and wash over you as his tongues begin to clean you up, the middle still refusing to leave your creamy cunt. It makes you tense, and that gets a soft chuckle rumbling from the back of Jack’s throat.

After he was sure he slurps you clean, Jack slowly, almost teasingly, removes his tongues from your cunt and then licks his lips like the bastard he is. He looks so smug. “That wasn’t very fast,” he notes as his lips begin to press kisses to your slightly bruised thighs, his teeth gracing your flesh every now and then.

You pout as you begin to sit up on shaky legs, body feeling like jell-o. “Give me a chance,” you challenge.

Jack raises a brow before dropping it, his face leaving from in between your legs and drawing closer and closer to yours. “I don’t think whores should get chances.”

You immediately bristle and smash your lips to his, hands angrily grabbing at his still clothed form, almost goading him to take it off. You hide your squeal of delight as he kisses you back just as fervently, his large hand groping aimlessly for yours.

Jack grabs your wrist and brings you down to his pants, allowing you to rub the large bulge that’s grown as he ate your pussy.

You stifle your giggle and unzip hi, after you worked on his belt - it’s not like this is the first time you’ve done something like this - but when you reach in and feel for him, your eyebrows raise slightly.

Jack feels you pause and laughs, effectively breaking the kiss. He pulls away from you to look at your face. “Go ahead. Take it out.”

Gently, your hands peel back his pants as he makes minimal movement to help get them off and easier for you and you are greeted to an absolute monster. He’s not even rock solid but you can tell he’s huge. Interestingly enough, there’s also piercings in it - you recognize the ones on the length of his cock as ladder piercings followed by a ring at his tip. Your face rushes with heat when you see he’s got a thick knot as well, already waiting to fill you up.

“Not what you’re used to?” He teases, his legs open as he rests back on the couch, waiting for you to touch him.

Your fingers gently trail and crawl up his muscular thighs before you wrap your fingers around him, taking note of the texture on his cock. It wasn’t anything like a human man’s, and that made you excited. That same coiling white hot heat began to pool in your lower stomach as you slowly began to pump him.

“Spit on it,” he states in passing.

“Yes, daddy,” you reply, lips pursing as you thickly spit onto his head. Your thumb sneaks it over his dark dock that fades almost beautifully into his actual skin tone - you take notice of the silver specks that look like stars - and begin to grip him just a bit harder. You watch Jack’s expressions for anything of approval or disdain when you realize he’s not going to give you any satisfaction. You’ve been a bad girl. Of course he’s going to make you work for it.

“Use your mouth,” he then cuts through. “If you even think about using your hands, I’ll bite you.” He’s only half teasing. He absolutely would draw blood on your pretty flesh. His large, clawed hand that was gripping the back of the couch slinks upwards and over and buries itself onto your scalp, both soothingly and roughly guiding you down to his precum covered tip.

You open your mouth as wide as you can, mouth salivating as you finally taste him and the metal that decorates him. You’re so careful as he begins to pump your head on him, tongue flatly covering him in your spit as the head of his cock gets closer and closer to hitting the back of your throat. You struggle to breathe through your nose as he pushes you down harder and harder.

Jack hums out deeply as you suck him, your tongue swirling when he finally brings you back up. He switches hands eventually, the hand that had been holding your head now with its fingers trailing down your bare back as he cups the curve of your ass.

‘What on earth is he doing-!’ You moan against him as he twitches in the back of your throat as his ring finger and thumb slowly pull your lips apart just enough for his index and middle finger to slip in, filling you - but not to your limit. You squeeze your legs together and feel slick once again leak down your thighs as he finger fucks you while you still struggle to breathe on his cock as he pushes you down rougher and rougher.

In a way, you become his toy as his fingers make quick work of you. Your mind is lost in a lustful haze and you don’t even recognize he’s practically pulled your mouth off his cock as his fingers thrust into you harder, his nails so close to cutting you but instead, curling upwards in the best ways. Your face rests pathetically on his lap, your ass in the air as he trades his ring finger for his pinky and slips it into your needy, aching cunt.

“What a slut,” he whistles as you breathe raggedly against him. “I haven’t even fucked you properly and you’re rocking against me like a bitch in heat,” he cruelly observes, stifling his amusement at how you buck back in tandem with him. “Would you have treated that man in the store like this?” He asks, his voice dipping down to something sinister.

Your mind peers through the fog and you weakly shake your head as his fingers continue to fuck you. “Of course not,” you manage to squeak out. “N-Never, no one could make me feel like this,” you breathe out before squeezing your eyes shut, clamming your legs even tighter together to attempt to give your swollen clit some pleasure.

“You’re lying,” he states in a sing-song tone, his fingers roughly thrusting into you, curling upwards and rubbing you intimately, making you see stars. “Liars don’t deserve to cum,” and just like that, he’s pulling his long, thick fingers from your greedy cunt.

You gasp and look up at him almost wantonly and certainly pathetically. “EJ,” you begin before his other hand presses to your lips.

“You know better than to call me that,” he chides.

You swallow your pride, gradually composing yourself to a sitting position. “Daddy.”

“Better.”

“Please,” you start, moving off the cough and onto the coffee table. You turn around, planting your hands on the glass, poking your ass up and wiggling it side to side in an attempt to entice him, “please. I’ve been… I’ve been bad.”

“Just bad?” He hums as he stands up, palming his pierced cock for a moment or so, hissing as his precum weeps from the tip and onto the cheeks of your ass.

“I’ve been really, really bad,” you continue, still wiggling your hips and ass, swaying ever so slightly.

His tip just barely ghosts your entrance, hand gripping your hip. You feel his claws on your stomach, just barely poking the skin, ready to draw blood. “I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to,” he murmurs. “Why don’t I show you?”

You glance back over your shoulder and look at him with absolute desire and lust, nodding fervently. “Yes, daddy, please.” Your breath hitches as Jack’s hips sharply dart forward, filling you and stretching you almost painfully as his sheer size envelopes your form entirely. He’s still inching inside of you - you haven’t even reached his knot yet - and your arms almost wobble down on the coffee table as he piles you into it.

“Silly girl,” he tuts as he loosely backs up his hips and shallowly thrusts in again, making you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut in both pain and pleasure. “You’re always gonna be mine.”

You’re not even able to challenge the notion because he begins to absolutely ravage you. You feel like you’re stretched almost impossibly wide as he fucks you against the table, his breath picking up and becoming something more feral as you become a toy, an object, as he uses you. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you rest your cheek against the cool glass, chest pushing against it and leaving marks as you grip as tightly as you can onto the opposite edge of the table.

Jack begins to grit things in a language you don’t understand under his breath as he thrusts into you harder, his veiny cock pulsing inside of you as he drives in deeper and deeper. His balls slap against your clit, bringing you that much closer as he ruthlessly uses you. Judging by his tone, you assume he’s insulting you. “Fucking whore,” he seethes as he pulls you harder and harder against him, muscles tensing and all cares of breaking the coffee table being thrown out the window.

The tall, muscular, grey skinned man leans over you and begins to harshly breathe in your ear, his teeth nipping at the shell as he rolls his hips into you harder. The sound makes thick, meaty claps, almost sending you flying forward from the sheer force but him holding you back anchored you. “I can’t believe you’d even look at another man this way,” he continues in that same language, his lips and teeth leaving your ear and to your neck, nibbling before finally roughly biting down and sucking. It’s going to bruise. When he detaches, he harshly whispers to you again. “Wanton and waiting for someone else other than me, what the fuck were you thinking?” Jack harshly questions before biting yet again into your neck, his claws drawing the faintest of blood that drips like rubies down your skin.

You cry out in that same pleasurable and painful ecstasy and weakly meet his thrusts, barely able to think through the sheer force of him. “I-I-I’m sorry!” You cry out as one of his hands reaches your clit, fingering it as his balls continue to slap against it, making your legs wobble. “I’m sorry for making you mad, daddy!” You exclaim, finding yourself cut off with how his hand leaves your clit and snakes back up to your mouth. His fingers are coated in your juices and his - and he forces your mouth open.

“Lick them clean,” he harshly demands, hips still smacking against you. His length twitches every now and then, and the drag of his piercings feels so delicious against your stretched out walls.

You mumble against his fingers and lick your tongue on him, careful not to cut yourself on his talons as he shoves them deeper into your mouth. You suck on them, closing your eyes once more and feel tears well within them simply from the overload of pleasure.

When Jack pops his now clean fingers out of your mouth, he lifts you like you’re weightless and pops you off his cock, thoroughly amused at your bewildered expression before he plops you back down onto the coffee table, your legs still spread wide open from him, cunt still aching and hungry, absolutely needy for him to fill you to your brim.

The glass feels cool against your back as you realize he’s flipped you over. Your chest doesn’t feel as cramped anymore, so that’s nice. You’re barely afforded a moment with your thoughts before Jack is planting his hands on your left side and the other cups under your ass, lifting you slightly before pushing his thick, veiny cock back inside of you.

And you see it.

He’s building your lower abdomen out just from hsi size alone, and the thought, the image, the feeling, it makes you moan out again. Heat spreads over your entire body as Jack roughly works you up again, his cock bulging your stomach and weeping precum as you tighten your legs around his waist in vain, attempting to grasp onto something - anything to anchor yourself.

Your heart rate is flying, racing and your breaths are just picking up. You almost forget to breathe when Jack is back at the crook of your neck, biting, nipping and sucking, his tongues traveling over your slightly salty sweet skin like salt water taffy as you come closer and closer to breaking.

“Come on,” he hisses, hips roughly thrusting into you, making you gasp each time. “Squirt for me. Make daddy happy,” he continues, accenting each word with an even harsher thrust, stealing your breath each time. He grabs your wrist when you attempt to play with your clit and chides you with a snarl before finally rubbing you in a way that brings you over your edge.

You scream as his knot finally pushes past your bruised, puffy lips and practically becomes swallowed whole. The pain turns to pleasure as tears well in your eyes as you release all over him, sweet fluid splashing all over you and Jack as you vice grip his knot.

Jack pants out as he ruts into you as you squirt all over him, his knot still pushing into you with such hunger, filling you so much further than what you think is possible before he curls against you, his large form wrapping around you as he roars, releasing thick, creamy, white hot liquid into your needy cunt.

“Fuck, Reader, fuck,” he sneers like a mantra, hips weakly bucking against you, still very much connected by the knot as he continues to unload oceans of the warm, creamy liquid into you.

You feel tears roll down your cheeks from the sheer pleasure as you wrap your legs around his waist even tighter, nails raking against his back as you mumble his name and take in his deep scent. He’s otherworldly. You don’t even mind that Jack is still lighty rutting into you as he continues releasing, teeth bared and eyes shut in the pleasure your body is giving him.

When he finally empties himself fully into you, he breathes out deeply and rests his forehead against you, gently, tenderly, sweetly.

You feel hot, much too hot, and the only thing keeping you cool is the glass of the coffee table. You attempt to move off of him, to somewhere more comfortable when you wince in pain. “Ow! What is that?” You grumble as your eyes glance down to where Jack still remains buried inside of you.

He sighs out and follows your gaze. “Knot,” he states simply. “It’s gonna hurt-” He’s barely able to even get the words out as you’re already working on getting him out of you, wincing and hissing at the pain as you remove yourself off the thick, bulbous knot. Tears once again well in your eyes from the overwhelming stimulation, and Jack’s shaking his head as if to say ‘what did you expect?’

“I swear,” he mumbles as his thumbs gently wipe away your tears, not even noticing how his creamy cum pools down your legs and practically creates a waterfall onto the coffee table and onto his once immaculately clean floor. “Don’t force it out next time,” he grumbles as he slowly stands up, stretching slightly.

“Sorry,” you apologize, mind still hazy from the pleasure.

Jack relents and picks you up like you weigh nothing, already subtly checking if you’re hurt in any way from him and the rough coffee table. “It’s whatever,” he hums, holding you in his arms, simultaneously pleased and displeased with how harsh he was. But at least you smell like him. “C’mon, let me take care of this,” he offers, gesturing to the scrapes, cuts and bruises that are blooming on your body due to him.

Not wanting to say anything, you sleepily smile up at him and burrow into his chest. You look up at him.

“What?”

You yawn slightly. “Was I a good girl?” You ask playfully, resting your head on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat pick up.

Jack chuckles quietly. “You sure were.”

“Did I make daddy happy?”

Jack purrs slightly as your fingers brush against his cheek. “Without a shadow of a doubt.”

#eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #nsft #creepypasta scenario #x reader #reader insert #eyeless jack headcanon #ej

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elysiadjarin · 3 years

Text

Day 3: Dacryphilia

Jesse Cromeans may be a ruthless killer, but at home with you? You’re the one in charge. And especially those days when you’re annoyed at how long he’s been gone and he comes back so desperate for your attention… well. You did so like to see him cry.

Day 3 of Kinktober has arrived! I actually think I discovered some things about myself writing this one, so y’all enjoy. 😂 Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ content only. This one is a slasher x reader fic, so please beware of mentions of murder and assault as part of the territory, though nothing is explicitly mentioned. PinV unprotected sex, dacryphilia, desperation, cumplay.

Tags: Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull) x reader, slasher x reader, yandere!reader, soft femdom, sub/dom themes

Paint Splatters over Canvas

It was rather funny, really.

You scrolled through your phone, ignoring the giant man standing in the doorway of the room staring at you. Jesse had always made a point of never touching you without your permission. A way for him to separate the meaningless victims of his murderous hobby with you, his wife, his everything. And while of course your relationship stayed perfectly strong, you well aware of his hobby and he well aware of your own tendencies… it did sometimes backfire on him in the best worst ways.

Like now. When you were annoyed with him because he’d been gone an entire day later than he’d promised, extra dark web cash be damned. A promise was a promise, and it wasn’t as though he’d needed the money. He did have a perfectly legal and highly successful business, after all. So shouldn’t you have come first?

You liked revenge cold, playing the long game; something you had in common with Jesse. And today, you certainly had plans put in place for said revenge. Which, for the time being, meant ignoring Jesse. You had plenty to occupy you, from communications for the business to just working on your own projects. Still, you’d made sure to be just nonchalant enough to let him know that it was all so… deliberate.

Jesse shuffled in the doorway, clearly wanting your attention but knowing better than to think any sort of demanding would get him anywhere. He’d learned the hard way that at home, his power over subordinates decidedly did not apply to you. When you didn’t give him any response, he hovered for a moment, clearly trying to decide on what to do next.

You knew how he would get after a mission. Needy. Wanting. Starved for attention and affection from you. Pent up for days, probably thinking about you every spare moment between takes.

With a hum, you typed out a message on your phone before standing and heading for the doorway. You briefly looked up to see him as you brushed past in the doorway. “Oh, hi, Jesse,” you said, giving him a brief, distracted smile. “I’m off to get ready for a meeting with a client.” You headed for the bedroom, already thinking about your next steps.

You could hear him following behind you, could almost feel the mounting despair as he started to realized what was happening. Why you had used his name instead of the usual love, darling. His shoulders hunched, and you could see his face twist as he clearly tried to think of what to do. He already knew that you’d have your revenge however you wanted: apologies would be expected but certainly wouldn’t get him any closer to mercy.

Walking into the bedroom, you headed straight for the bathroom to start preparing. Jesse still trailed along behind you like a forlorn, helpless puppy, and you swore you could almost hear him let out a small whine. Pausing for a moment in front of your vanity, you dialed your friend’s number and set it to speaker, putting it down on the countertop and sitting in front of the mirror.

You tied your hair up and reached for your cosmetics, beginning the process as the phone dialed. Your friend picked up quickly, already in on your plan thanks to your texting. She always approved of your payback plans.

Bestie! I thought you said you had to prepare for the meeting? I mean, yknow, not that I don’t like hearing from you. She cheerfully teased over the phone.

You smiled. “Well yeah, I just sat down to do my makeup. But I mean, we did say we were going to talk about the party for little Jacen this weekend, and what better time than now? You can help me pick out an outfit once I’m done,” you cajoled, noticing how Jesse sat on the edge of the jacuzzi bathtub, unabashedly staring at you. He always had loved watching you get ready for an event. Not that you minded.

Fair enough. Your best friend admitted readily. But seriously, you didn’t have to go all out for Jacen like this. She half scolded. It’s so much!

You laughed lightly, the creamy foundation smoothing across your skin. “Oh c’mon, he’s my adorable little nephew in all but name. He deserves to get spoiled by his doting Aunt, let me have my fun,” you wheedled, knowing she would cave.

She sighed over the receiver. I swear, girl, you could convince anyone into anything.

“Or maybe I’m just your weakness, Miss Mara,” you teased back. The soft brush in your fingers blended the contour onto your face, and you smiled as you glanced at the phone. “But anyway, did you manage to figure out what he might want for a birthday present? Or are we going with my original idea to let him loose in a mall?”

Oh, no, you are so not buying him everything he points at. I’d never get him to not be a spoiled brat if I let you.Mara snorted. I’ll text you what I figured out, he seems to be pretty fixated on it right now.

“Ugh, fineeee,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “But I’m going to at least get him that adorable motorized scooter I showed you before. He’s going to look so cute riding around in it.”

Fair enough I suppose. Better than the mall idea— wait, did you just get me to agree to something extravagant by threatening something so ridiculous—

“Anyway,” you interrupted blithely, “did you send out invitations to everyone?”

Yep, and I got back all the RSVPs. Speaking of which, I thought you said that you were meeting with the CEO of some business tonight? What’s that all about? I know you, you normally don’t like dealing with people.

You sighed. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag a little.” You pouted, reaching for the eyeshadow and liner. “Jesse was supposed to be back yesterday, but since he wasn’t I had to reschedule, and I promised to personally meet with the CEO in order to smooth over ruffled feathers. But besides that… I wanted to be there personally to see my best friend and her husband’s house finally paid off for their fifth anniversary.”

A pause. Then a screech that made you grin. You’re not serious! Babes, no, wait—

“No use protesting!” You said cheerfully, waving your brush. “It’s already been practically settled. Besides, you both need to start saving up for Jacen’s college funds. We did have the agreement that I’d open the doors to whatever college he wanted instead of just paying for it,” you reminded.

Ugh, I don’t know if I want to smack you or hug you, you sly little— Mara groaned. Wait till I tell Damien, he won’t know what hit him. She laughed. Thank you. You know how much it means to us. I won’t scold.

“Good.” You nodded. “And you know I’ll take care of you.”

She sighed. Never doubted it. So, how’s the process?

You hummed, pursing your lips as you finished the eyeshadow and grabbed the mascara. “About to do mascara, then all I have left is the lipstick. But shouldn’t I wait till we pick a dress before I actually pick a color?”

Probably. What’s the mood? You going for boss ass bitch, sultry Queen, or mysterious vampire lady? Amusement laced Mara’s voice.

“You’re not even in my house and yet you walked in and called me out to my face,” you said dryly, earning laughter. Jesse, you saw in the mirror, tilted his head with a small smile playing over his lips. He’d quietly observed the whole processes, eyes fixed on your face.

Only cause I love you. So, show me the closet, girl! Oh, show me your makeup first tho so we got reference.

You picked up the phone as you finished, turning on the camera so she could see your makeup sans the lipstick. She whistled, eyebrows wriggling teasingly as she grinned.

Oh, so mysterious vampire queen it is. She smirked. Closet. Though I do have the feeling that we’re going to be choosing a gorgeous red lipstick.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered, standing and heading for your closet. You heard Jesse stand and follow behind you, and stifled a smile. Flipping the camera, you started to flip through the racks of dresses. “Does that mean we’re leaning towards a black dress?”

Hmm, probably. Actually, how about one of your sleek black ones? The one with like, barely any frills and only a tiny bit of lace at the top. Off the shoulder. If you’re gonna try to assert dominance, probably drawing attention to your mouth and hands is the best way to go.

You tilted your head at the hangers, then nodded. “You’re right. Especially if I go for the red lipstick. I could also honestly use a glass of wine during that meeting,” you sighed.

Mara snickered. Blood in a wine glass? How stereotypical of you, madame.

“You hush, drama queen,” you said dryly, finding the dress she’d described and pulling it out.

Ooh, that’s the one! And I know you have that one crimson shade of lipstick that I always say looks vampiric.

You went back to the vanity and set the phone down, pretending to not notice that it showed Jesse standing in the doorway, clearly staring at you. You slid your shirt off, careful not to smudge any makeup, then slipped out of your pants and reached for the dress. Smoothing it over your front to get rid of any wrinkles, you sat back down and tilted the camera back to yourself, reaching for the lipstick.

“This one, right?” You waved it in front of your face.

Yep! That dress is stunning, by the way. Oh, and what are you doing with your hair?

“Ugh, I don’t really wanna bother too much with it, so I figured I’d go with the… messy, loose waves.” You shrugged, applying the lipstick.

Mara snorted. I think you mean, ‘sorry I’m late I was doing things’ while ignoring Jesse staggering behind you clearly radiating ‘I’m things’ energy.

You half-choked, laughing despite yourself. “Mara-! Seriously!”

She rolled her eyes at you. I’m just saying it like it is. But you go girlie, you look bomb. She laughed. Blow them all away. Be the boss bitch you are. A noise in the background interrupted her. Oop, that’s my cue. I gotta go, text me though okay?

“Will do, tell Damien and Jacen hi for me.” You smiled and hung up, finishing fluffing your hair. Standing, you grabbed the phone and headed for the door. “The meeting is in five minutes,” you remarked to Jesse as you passed him in the doorway. “If you want to join.”

You saw him type on his phone, the text to speech translator sounding a moment later. May I be there with you?

You flashed him a warm smile, as though you weren’t at all deliberately enacting revenge. “Of course! I’d love to have you there. Let’s go.” With a little hum, you headed towards the stairs.

Your phone pinged with a message. Girl, I swear he was drooling. You’re so mean sometimes. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

You suppressed a laugh, replying with one hand as your other slid down the bannister to guide you down the staircase. You know it. Mission so far successful. Wish me luck, I’m about to go into this meeting.

You looked up as you got to the bottom of the stairs, seeing an assistant waiting with the guest. The assistant bowed politely. “May I introduce Mr. Trace, CEO of Finley Bank.”

Giving the assistant a nod, you turned to Mr. Trace. “Greetings, Mr. Trace. Welcome! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I do apologize for the delay,” you said, taking charge and sweeping towards the parlor.

He followed after automatically. “Of course, Mrs. Cromeans,” he answered, quickly recovering from his moment of bewilderment.

You motioned to a chair, sitting on the velvet couch across the coffee table. “Please, please, have a seat,” you said, keeping the easy smile on your face. “Can I get you a drink? Anything at all?”

He blinked, sitting down and setting his briefcase next to him. “Ah— thank you. I’d appreciate a scotch on the rocks if it’s available.”

“Of course,” you said easily, nodding to the maid standing nearby. “A red wine for me, please.” You smiled at Jesse as he sat next to you. “Your regular?” you asked sweetly. At his nod, you turned back to the maid. “And a glass of dry white.”

She bowed and went to go fetch the drinks.

“I’m sure you have plenty of other things to do, Mr. Trace,” you said smoothly, “so I’ll not take any more of your time than necessary. Of course, as I said, I’d like to discuss several things with you…”

Twenty minutes later found you leaning against the arm of the couch, feet propped up beside you as you swirled the last dregs of the red wine, tapping the glass with your fingernails. The CEO had long since emptied his scotch, and Jesse was on his second glass. His fingers kept clenching around the flute of his glass every time your feet brushed against his thigh.

“Of course,” Trace said with a nod, jotting down the final notes on the paperwork. “Easily managed. Are there any other details you would like to add or anything else to discuss?” He looked up at you.

Your tactics of firm politeness and the scotch seemed to have worked their charm, and you’d been able to rather easily dominate the flow of the interaction. Not to mention, Mara had been right about appearances clearly setting a tone. Trace seemed to be studiously avoiding eye contact with either you or Jesse.

“Not at all, Mr. Trace,” you said, a pleased note in your voice. “I’m rather pleased at how everything has turned out. We do so value your business, you know.” You tilted the glass in your fingers. “Shall I sign the papers?”

“At your leisure.” He slid them across the table toward you.

You slowly uncurled yourself like a lazy feline, straightening yourself and leaning over to set the glass down on the table. Grasping the pen, you slowly signed your name on the papers, eyes glancing over the print to ascertain that everything was in order. Shuffling through the papers, you finally set the pen down.

Trace took them back, glancing through them before nodding. “Everything seems to be in order.” He slid them back into his briefcase. “Thank you as always for your business, Mrs. Cromeans, Mr. Cromeans.”

You nodded, and Jesse stood, setting his glass down. You rose as well, sliding your arm into the crook of his elbow as he automatically adjusted for you. “And thank you for your help, Mr. Trace,” you answered easily. “I do hope you have a productive rest of the day. Do be safe out there.”

He nodded as the assistant returned to escort him out. “Same to you.”

With a hum, you absently patted Jesse’s arm and let yours slide out of his grasp, drifting towards the stairs again. “Oh, I need to go tell Mara it’s all confirmed. Besides, this dress is only comfortable for so long,” you remarked, pulling out your phone again.

Guess who completely owns their house now? You texted Mara, smiling. And your tactics worked, I think dominance was asserted.

You waltzed into the bedroom, headed straight for the closet. “Jesse, are you hungry? I think the food I ordered should have arrived by now, it should be in front of the TV. Maybe pick a movie? I still have a few messages to send.”

You changed into a comfortable black babydoll nightdress, sighing in relief as the silk slid over your skin. It was far more comfortable, and you could feel yourself finally starting to relax after the pent-up tension of the meeting. You really did hate dealing with people, especially ones like the CEO.

Your phone buzzed as you went to go pick it back up. You are literally the best. Now go finish seducing Jesse while I go figure out how to make this news sexy.

Stifling a snort, you went to go wipe your makeup off and wash your face. You could hear the sounds of the TV starting in the bedroom, so you took one more glance in the mirror before heading out into the room, still tapping at your phone. You still had to finish some arrangements for Jacen’s birthday, after all, and your revenge was still percolating.

Jesse’s head turned as soon as you approached the couch in front of the TV. You ignored the way he froze, sliding onto the couch and tucking your feet under a soft blanket. Sending off another message, you set it beside you and reached forward to grab a tray, pulling it into your lap.

“I figured you might not want anything too heavy since you just got back, so I kinda just made a guess and ended up ordering too much…” You frowned at the myriad of food laid out over the table. “Sorry, Jesse… I don’t even know if this is what you want—“

The text to speech cut you off. The food is fine, thank you. I’m sorry for being late. I know I can only make excuses, but I am sorry. Can I make it up to you?

A frown touched your lips as you picked up your spoon, still not looking at him. Your fingernails tapped against the screen of your phone. “Jacen asked the other day if Uncle Jesse would be at his party. I told him I didn’t know, but I’d ask.”

He quickly typed. Of course, if he asked for me, I’ll be sure to be there. His fingers paused, then he slowly typed again, as though hesitating. I got you a present while I was gone.

You hummed, swallowing your food and picking your phone back up. “He’ll be happy to hear it. And thank you for the present.” You sent a message to tell Mara that Jacen’s wish had been granted.

Jesse practically fidgeted as he ate, the movie playing in the background. You could feel his eyes slide from the screen to you, could almost hear the wheels in his head frantically turning. The tension in every line of his body was obvious, his movements stilted and jerky. He practically twitched every time you so much as moved.

Finally, you set down the tray, grabbing a mint to refresh your mouth. Shifting to get more comfortable, you angled yourself towards him a little more. You snitched a piece of food from his plate, letting out a hum as you smiled down at Mara’s message. If possible, Jesse stiffened even more, his fingers clenching so hard around his spoon that it even bent a little in his grasp.

A crumb fell from your fingers onto the lace edge of your nightgown, and you let out a quiet noise of protest as you looked down. Your fingers brushed against the top of your breast, brushing off the crumb. Sticking your finger in your mouth, you typed out a message in response to another conversation. With a sigh, you looked up and glanced over Jesse’s shoulder to see the lamp on the table next to him. Night had fallen, and shadows fell over the room.

Stirring yourself, you sat up, setting your phone down for a moment. “Can I turn on the lamp? I don’t wanna get up for the lights,” you said, starting to lean across him. Almost thoughtlessly, you placed your hand on his thigh and put your weight on it, reaching over his body on your hands and knees to pull at the cord on the lamp. The light clicked on, just as a low keening sound came from Jesse.

Your head tilted at the sound, and you turned to look up at his face. It was your turn to freeze.

Jesse’s face had crumpled, his soft green eyes literally awash with tears. His hands were clenched at his sides, his chest heaving with hitching breaths as he struggled to control his expression. The tears welled in his eyes, and faint color had splashed across his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

Slowly, a smile crossed your lips as you stared up at his face. Leaning back, you tilted your head, licking your lips. “Oh, look at you,” you breathed. “You made all the little piggies cry, Jesse. But maybe it’s your turn, hmm?” Your eyes flickered down to the way his entire body trembled, every muscle taut and strained.

You moved, sliding your entire body into his lap to straddle his waist and face him. Crossing your arms under your chest, you stared into his face. “I don’t know… you broke your promise, though.” Your eyebrow raised at him, and he let out another hoarse whimper. Tears slid down his cheeks, his mouth opening for shuddering breaths.

He shook his head, lips trembling as he lifted one hand and signed. Sorry. Please. Sorry. His fingers spelled out your name.

Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands. You leaned up, face drawing closer to his. “But I already accepted your apology, love,” you cooed, smiling. “You know what I think?” You slowly dragged your tongue across his tear tracks, your body flushing with heat at the taste of the bitter salt. “I think,” you murmured against his jaw, “that I like seeing you cry.”

Jesse’s breath hitched on a sob, more tears spilling down his cheeks. It was fairly intoxicating, seeing the giant man completely fall apart under you, trapped between his desperation and his personal standards. When you slid forward, your body pressing flush against him, another sob wrenched from his gritted teeth.

You decided for the moment to have a bit of mercy. Reaching down, you grasped his wrists and lifted his hands to your waist. His fingers instantly clenched in the silk babydoll dress, shaking as he grabbed at your waist. His entire body lurched forwards towards you, eyes fixed on your face.

You hummed softly, brushing a kiss to his jaw. “Your eyes are so pretty when they’re filled with tears, Jesse,” you purred, drawing his face closer to you. Still, you refused to kiss him, instead trailing your lips down his jaw, down to his throat. You opened your mouth against his neck, savoring the taste of his skin and the soft scent of his cologne.

Jesse’s trembling fingers jerked against your waist, and he slumped into you. His hands slid over your waist to your lower back, his touch practically reverent as he squeezed. His breaths came quick and fast, breaking occasionally on a sob. Every time you suckled or moved your lips, every time your hands slid down his shoulders, he gasped and shuddered, more tears dripping down his cheeks.

You slid your hands down, starting to unbutton his shirt. Your tongue dragged across his neck, and you felt the bulge in his pants throb against your thigh. “Isn’t this punishment fair, darling?” you cooed. “I only ask for a few tears, hmm? A front row seat to your pretty eyes?”

His head jerked, even though it wrenched another tortured sob from him. Despite the contact, you could feel his frustration mounting.

You pulled back, looking up at him as you finished unbuttoning his shirt. “Oh, you don’t think so?” Your fingers slid across his bared chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. “But isn’t this what you wanted? Me, paying attention to you?”

His gasps had turned ragged. His hips jerked, rutting up against your thigh. A strangled noise left his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. His grip on your waist threatened to leave fingerprints against your skin.

“No?” You bit your lip, raking your nails lightly against his chest. “Then what is it you want, hmm?”

His eyes flickered down to your lips, unconsciously licking his own. His fingers clenching, he pulled you down to grind against his cock, straining in his trousers. Pants fell from his mouth, and he kept glancing from your eyes to your lips.

You reached down, teasingly trailing your fingers down his chest and stomach. Unzipping his trousers, you looked up at his face and smiled as you traced one fingertip down the bulge in his underwear. His eyes fairly rolled back in his head, more tears streaming down his face afresh.

“Look at you, already such a mess,” you murmured, sliding your fingers into his underwear. The moment you wrapped a hand around his cock and slid up, you were rewarded with a guttural groan. He gritted his teeth, clearly struggling to stay still. With a soft laugh, you leaned up and brushed a kiss to his ear.

You tugged at his collar. “Why don’t you lie down for me?” you murmured.

He immediately complied, his hands still clamped around your waist as he turned and shifted up, lying down on the couch. He stared up at you, face still twisted in agony and desperation.

Lifting yourself a little, you tilted your head at him. “Take your pants off for me?”

He practically kicked his pants and underwear off in his haste. You guided one of his hands to the latch on the side of your own panties, giving him an amused smile and nod. His trembling fingers unlatched them, his chest heaving as he watched the black silk slide away from your skin. The moment you lowered back down onto him, his cock throbbed against you and his back arched.

Leaning forward, you hummed a pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Jesse, love,” you murmured. “Cry for me a little more?” You cupped his face in your hands, feeling your wetness coat his own length as you ground against his tip. But you deliberately kept shifting, not giving him any steady pressure.

Another broken whine came from him, and a few more tears slipped down his cheeks. Frustration scrunched his face, his neck mottled with red and flushing down to his shoulders and chest, making your white nail marks stand out. His hips jerked, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment.

“Is this what you want?” You pressed down against him again, feeling his cock slip against your wet folds teasingly.

His head jerked in a nod, almost violently. Tremors kept running through his arms, his body occasionally shuddering under you.

You leaned down and sucked his lower lip between yours. Your teeth nipped at his lip, and you finally slanted your mouth over his. Tears poured afresh down his cheeks as he desperately pulled at you, trying to get closer, kiss you more. You relented and let him, thumbs brushing against his jaw as you hummed softly into his frantic, pleading kisses. Without warning, you slipped your tongue between his lips, feeling his mouth part with alacrity. When you finally parted, his green eyes were glazed over with tears, hazily staring at you.

Then you smiled at him slyly. “I think you’ve deserved a little bit more,” you decided.

The moment you slid his tip into you, he choked. Saliva dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he squeezed his eyes shut, struggling for breath. His entire body froze, humming taut under you and his eyes sightlessly staring up at the ceiling.

You observed his wrecked expression, licking your lips with satisfaction. Rarely did Jesse ever fully submit to you like this, usually a brat. But tonight, you had absolute and utter control, and you intended to milk every last ounce of satisfaction out of it. The memories would fuel you for years of his utterly ruined expression, tears slipping down his cheeks as he drooled uncontrollably.

“So pretty, darling,” you purred, licking the tears from his cheek. You gave him another kiss, letting his hands wander over your waist and up your front. “So good for me. Do you think you can handle more?”

His eyes widened, breath quickening. He glanced down, then shook his head jerkily. Then nodded. Then shook his head.

You tilted your head. “Hmmm.” A wicked grin crossed your lips. “No? Oh, but I think you can,” your said, just as you lifted yourself and fully sheathed him inside you.

Jesse sobbed. His mouth opened, tongue lolling as he gasped. Tears poured down his cheeks from the mingled pleasurable pain and relief. His cock throbbed inside you, and his hands grasped desperately at your thighs. His entire body started to shake, arching.

You barely gave him time to adjust before you were already bouncing on him, hands braced against the back of the couch. Laughter spilled from your lips, delighted and cruel, as his hands scrabbled against your thighs, raking across your skin. Moans kept being torn from his throat, your name framed on his lips.

As soon as you angled your hips and brought your fingers down to ring tight circles on your clit, you hissed in pleasure. You pulsed around his cock, earning another helpless sob and wave of tears. He just hit that one spot inside you perfectly, again and again, until you bit your lip and moaned his name as you came around him. Your body clenched down on him, even as you kept fucking yourself through your orgasm.

More laughter spilled from your lips. “Are you gonna cum for me, Jesse, my pretty darling?” you asked breathlessly, purposely moaning his name. “Gonna cum inside me?”

The only warning you got from Jesse was another sob and the gritting of his teeth. His hands flew to your hips, slamming you down on him one more time before holding you there with an iron grip. Gasps tore from his mouth, his eyes trying to blink away tears as he stared up at you.

You hummed, caressing his hands and arms as you bit your lip in satisfaction. He kept pouring into you, his hips jerking once in a while and wringing a whimper from him. Finally, you leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. His lips parted under yours weakly, chest heaving under your hands.

“Thank you, Jesse,” you cooed sweetly between kisses. “You’re so good to me, make me feel so good.” Your mind fuzzed with the pleasure of both your high and the sight of his tears.

He pushed up against you, kissing you fervently. Though he didn’t say a word, you could feel his thoughts through his drugged, sloppy kiss.

You giggled, teasingly clenching down on him one more time and earning a jerk and grunt. “And I forgive you. But don’t do it again, okay?”

Jesse’s calculating look as he clearly weighed the consequences made you roll your eyes but laugh. Maybe this one would turn out to backfire against you, next time.

You decided it was worth it.

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blahkugo · 3 years

Text

𝟑 ༒ 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔶 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔳𝔞𝔦𝔫

⤷ dirty valentine m.list

⤷ complete hq m.list

tōru oikawa — dirty talk

a/n: tōru “steal ur bitch” oikawa. i apologize for yet another cucking fic (no i don’t) <3 thank you to @theygottheircages for that last line ( ˘ ³˘)♡

wc: 1.4k

cw: adultery, degradation, slapping, oinks being a bastard

Your fall from heaven began with a glance. It was nothing more than an accident, a stare held one second too long to be anything other than romantic. But the moment you laid eyes on him—batted fluffy lashes up towards this divine bringer of light—you knew it was much too late to avoid being blinded.

He feeds you the apple in slices.

A smirk, the graze of his knuckles on your bare skin, an effortless tick of his jaw that keeps you pondering for days to come; Oikawa is a master manipulator. It’s so sweet, so innocent, when he swipes a thumb across your cheek to retrieve a lost eyelash, but those same fingers send shivers down your spine.

It was manageable—harmless fun, even. Your relationship suffered naught from the temptations, because, if anything, it made you more eager for Issei. The little traipses with temptation only urged you to kiss your fiancée harder, to love more passionately, to grip him with a ferocity each and every time he held you in that unwavering grasp of his.

But the snip was inevitable, wings torn off in a haze of lust and immorality.

You should have seen it coming, should have bitten the hand that fed you. Because once that wretched apple was gone, he had nothing more to give you. But you asked for more, practically begged for the precarious situation you now find yourself in—Ambrosia-soaked fingertips pressed against your eager tongue.

“You’re slobbering all over me,” he smirks, pressing deeper, “it’s disgusting.” The Devil has a way of making the crudest remarks sound regal, alluring and utterly irresistible even as he promises eternal damnation.

You mewl around his digits, pleading for the mercy of sweet release; Oikawa only laughs, nudging your legs apart with his free hand and diving straight for your pretty lace panties. He doesn’t have to check to know you’re drenched, a patch of slick soaking through the skimpy article and trailing your thighs. Any lesser reaction would be a disservice to his sanctity.

“What should I do with you?” He questions, expectant, though his fingers remain lodged inside your mouth. A knuckle curls and unfurls against your clothed slit—teasing, maddening. “Hm?”

“Fuck me,” your words are garbled around him, “please.”

The plea doesn’t sway him, finger still lazily circling your bud. He seems to be contemplating his next move, deciding how to debauch you further. Your room feels small, held captive by the dizzying scent of pink pepper and rum—his cologne.

Oikawa has never been an entity that sits by the sidelines. No, like water in any container, wherever he is he fills with himself. He is too grand not to be the center of attention, too illustrious to ignore. You can swear up and down that you were already much too enamored to take heed of his presence, but it’d be a lie all the same.

“Don’t get all dazed on me now,” he snaps, slapping at your clit. The whine that leaves you should be illegal, a high-pitched huff of air that makes you sound depraved. “Why should I bother with Mattsun’s leftovers?” He tilts his head ever-so slightly, soft brunette locks tousling with the movement. It’s an action wholly unsuitable for someone so wretched.

The mention of your poor, sweet fiancé sends a rush of guilt through you—at the weight of what you’re about to take part in. Leftovers. That’s all you are to the Devil before you, all you’ll ever be. And yet, the shame brings with it a new wave of heat to your core.

As humiliating as it may be, you have no choice but to heed the warning. You may have been able to refuse him, had you been stronger, more sound in your principles. But too much of your soul belongs to him already, too many nights spent yearning and aching for this very moment.

That’s why—with a trembling voice, body ablaze with greed—you begin your oblation,

“Tōru.” You attempt to call as sweetly as possible, stretching his name even as your voice remains muffled around his digits. Though his face stays steady, arrogant smirk sitting proudly, you swear you feel a slight twitch in his fingers. “Need you inside me,” a pout, paired with a soft graze of his bare bicep, “m’so wet for you, p-please.”

It’s enough to set him off.

Oikawa doesn’t bother stretching you out; whether it’s because he’s well aware how most of your nights with Issei end—panting beneath the sheets—or because he simply doesn’t care to, you’re unsure. But instead of nudging his fingers into you, he simply sinks his cock in, fast and heavy, digits of his left hand still hooked onto your pliant tongue.

“Oh, fuck,” he hisses sharply, “how are you this fucking tight?” Tears cloud your vision, your lower half bursting with pain as you instinctually attempt to scramble away, but Tōru’s free hand now rests at your waist, clutching you tightly against him.

“Tōru!” The tears flow freely down your cheeks now. “Shlow– ah, slow down!” Even as you cry out, you know the words are meaningless. Every twinge of pain makes you drool, every slap of heavy balls against your slit urges you to wrap your legs around his middle and pull him closer. It seems Oikawa knows it, too.

“Cute.” It’s his favorite word for you, a compliment that used to make your eyes grow wide and your skin prickle with pride. Now, it sounds like nothing more than a sneer—praise for a favorite pet.

Despite your pleas, the pace Oikawa sets is relentless. When he finally frees your mouth, it’s only to slather slick fingers across your face. There’s a tap at your cheek—once, twice—the palm of his hand slapping softly before gripping at your jaw. He bends to meet the shell of your ear, nipping at it with sharp canines before whispering,

“Mattsun told us all about how much you love to play the good girl.” You draw a sharp breath, but Tōru only snickers. “It ‘hurts so bad,’ right?” A sharp thrust, a mewl from you. “I’d play along,” he grunts when your nails dig into his back, “but I want to see that look on your face.”

There’s a throbbing now, a wrench in your gut that has nothing to do with how hard Oikawa pounds into you. Issei—sweet and doting, the perfect man to settle down with—has shared your most intimate moments with this bastard? It’s wrong, to criticize an angel’s minor sin while (quite literally) in bed with the devil, but you can’t help the hurt.

“There’s that face,” he declares proudly, lips quirking into a sly smile. “Now, I want to hear it. Why are you panting like a bitch in heat?” His fingers press bruises into your waist. “Why are you pulling me closer?” Sweat drips off your bodies, the heat and humidity clouding your brain. “You beg and you cry, but really, you love being fucked like this.” When your eyes roll back, he slaps your cheek once more. “Don’t you?”

The fingers at your waist move all at once, grazing your thighs before circling rapidly at your bundle of nerves. You don’t think you can speak, want nothing more than to deny the goading, but the pleasure makes your head foggy and your tongue loose.

“I-I do! I do!” The irony of the those two words—of the fact that you’ll be whispering them to your beloved in only a few days, isn’t lost on you. “Fuck- Tōru, I love being f-fucked like this.”

“Atta girl!” Oikawa laughs louder now, a bellowing that rumbles his chest, sweat-soaked skin strained tightly against your own.

You once thought yourself Eve, led awry by the temptations of a fallen angel. You thought yourself holy and misplaced in your naive trust of the figure before you. But what of Lilith? What of the demoness, the woman disgraced long before the Devil could dishevel her?

“Now, why don’t we call up Mattsun and let him know just how much of a slut you are?”

Angels of a feather fall together.

#oikawa x reader #toru oikawa #haikyuu fic #haikyuu smut #tw slapping #tw adultery #tw degradation

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Move This Along

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After months of waiting, Spencer decides he finally wants to have sex with Reader. Category: SMUT (18+) Warnings: Language, sex (oral sex- female receiving, virgin!Spence, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie) Word Count: 5.6k

Full Request: “...so a smutty oneshot with like virgin!spencer but im talkling like baby spence. and hes super blushy and cute but then when it happens its rlly raunchy and therws a lot of dirty talk. and like reader doesnt work at the bau but theyre close friends. and like she goes out to a bar with him and the team and they tease him so then she takes him home and literally fucks him after a movie or smth idk...” — @mggscumrag

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: It took me forever to figure out how I wanted to do this, but once I did, it came out so quickly! I hope it’s to your liking 🥰

***

The first time she went out to meet Elle's friends from work, Y/N found herself absolutely nervous, and she wasn't sure why. She was always great with meeting new people, but for some reason, the prospect of meeting her next-door neighbor's co-workers seemed to really do a number on her.

She remembers how anxious she'd been, constantly worrying that they wouldn't like her, not to mention they were all probably super smart and strong and intimidating, just like Elle. Anyone who aided in putting away serial killers, rapists, and other monsters had to be just about the most intimidating personality there ever was.

But as Y/N soon learned, that wasn't quite the case at all.

To be fair, they were all intimidating in their own little ways, though it was really easy to forget about that when she was laughing with them, sharing drinks and stories, and exchanging phone numbers to stay in touch.

That's how she and Spencer had come to be good friends. Despite how obviously shy he was whenever they saw each other, the two of them managed to have conversations on just about everything. It usually happened that he talked and she listened to whatever he was teaching her, but she'd always add on the occasional, "Wow, I didn't know that," or "That's really fascinating." All of which she could tell he was surprised at and appreciated.

And since the first time they met at Elle's birthday party, the night she met the whole team for the first time, they'd been practically inseparable. While Y/N was good friends with the whole team, save for Gideon, who always seemed to like it better by himself, her relationship with Spencer seemed to even surpass the bond she'd built with her neighbor-slash-best friend.

Elle even told her as much one Saturday night, as the two of them were driving to the bar to meet up with everyone for a few drinks.

She'd mentioned it as a joke, but Y/N was instantly apologetic.

Elle only laughed. "Don't apologize. Actually, I think it's good that Reid has another friend outside of work. You're good for him. And you know, I think he has a little crush on you."

Warmth rushed to Y/N's cheeks, and she tried to hide it but failed miserably, causing Elle to give her a knowing smile. "Y—You don't know what you're talking about, Elle, it's not like that."

"Oh come on, it totally is. You give him the light of day when no one else does, he talks about you all the time, and everyone at work knows it."

She paused. "They... do?"

"Of course they do, we're all profilers, but it doesn't take one to see how obsessed that boy is with you. I think you should go for it."

Y/N would have been lying if she said she hadn't thought about asking him out. But in the end she had always figured it was a little weird, being that she was friends with all his and Elle's co-workers and she'd kinda been adopted into their family of sorts. But hearing what her neighbor was saying... She started to think differently about it.

"You really think so?"

Elle nodded. "Absolutely."'

"Okay," she replied with an excited smile. "Maybe I will, then."

A week later and the two of them started dating. Y/N always thinks back to the first few weeks of their relationship, how adorably shy and blush-prone Spencer was, even after they'd been together for some time. They spent almost all their free time together, and it still seemed like he was nervous to be around her. He'd assured her on multiple occasions that that wasn't the case, but Y/N still wondered why he hadn't fully warmed up to being around her.

Especially in public. Oh, in public it was worse. Y/N clung to his arm, and his face immediately got red. What confused her the most, though, was that every time she pulled away to make him more comfortable, he pulled her back in, seemingly desperate to feel her warmth.

In the end she and Spencer had grown to develop their own little communication system for public settings, something to let the other know when something was really wrong, and when to ask if the other was comfortable.

One night everyone was meeting after a rough case somewhere in Denver, and Y/N offered to buy everyone drinks once Spencer had called to tell her they were all back. It wasn't out of the ordinary for her to do that, but it had been a while, so everyone was quick to except. Well, mostly everyone— Gideon as per usual went his separate way, and Hotch was eager to get home and see his family.

Y/N was waiting for them at their favorite bar downtown when she heard a loud squeal that sounded a lot like her name. Sure enough, it was easy to spot a very yellow-clad Penelope Garcia headed straight towards her with her arms stretched out for a hug when she turned around. The smile she adorned was instantaneous as her arms came out a well, embracing Penelope with a large hug that almost knocked the wind out of her.

"I missed you!" she exclaimed, still hugging Y/N and swaying them back and forth a little. "I mean, I know I don't ever travel with the team, but because of that we should hang out more."

"Next time I need some company, I know who to call."

Y/N spotted Spencer then, behind Penelope and patiently waiting for a greeting. She smiled at him and whispered, "Hi," to which Penelope must have heard.

She quickly released her from their embrace and stepped out of the way. "Oh! I'm sorry, I'm keeping you from your boy wonder."

She laughed as she transferred from Penelope's arms to Spencer's. He muttered a little, "Hi," into her hair as she squeezed him and shoved her face into his neck. If she had to bet, he was probably red as a tomato right now with how close her mouth was to his neck—it was his weakness and she knew it. And just to tease him a little bit she quickly kissed up his neck, his jaw, and placed a decent peck on his lips before pulling away and grabbing his hand.

Despite the shy smile and the blush adorning his cheeks, he squeezed her hand tight and kept her at his side like they would die if they weren't touching at all times.

Everyone gave little greetings to Y/N as they all made their way to a large booth near the back. Y/N was sitting on one side with Elle to her right and Spencer to her left, while Derek, Penelope, and JJ sat across from them. Y/N got them all their preferred drinks, and a beer for herself, which Spencer couldn't help but find oddly attractive.

He glanced over at her as she took swigs from the bottle as the night progressed, and for whatever reason the sight made his insides all warm and tingly. And when she used her unoccupied hand to grab his under the table, rubbing gentle circles over the inside of his palm with her thumb, he'd never felt more in love with another person. He wasn't even drinking any alcohol, yet his head swam and his heart soared all the same, every bone in his body humming with euphoria at just the mere thought of her.

He must have been staring a little too obviously, because Derek kicked his leg under the table, pulling him from the lovesick daydream he never wanted to leave.

"I can't tell if those are cute ol' puppy dog eyes or bedroom eyes," Derek laughed, and everyone laughed right alongside him.

"Oh, stop it," Penelope said, swatting his arm. "He's obviously just very in love with her, what more could you need to know?"

"Oh, come on, tell me you're not curious to know how they... operate."

She smacked him harder this time, and everyone laughed.

Knowing her boyfriend didn't really care for the spotlight, especially when it came to their relationship, Y/N squeezed Spencer's hand under the table in reassurance. She drew a question mark in his palm, their signal for, "Are you uncomfortable?" And he responded by drawing an "X" in her palm, their answer for, "No." She laced their fingers together then, and set her beer down.

"Morgan, our sex life isn't any of your business," she stated simply.

Spencer felt his stomach churn at the sentence, if only because said sex life was, as of late, non-existent.

He and Y/N had made out a lot, sure, but the one time they did try having sex, he made it about ten seconds being inside of her before he finished, and since then he'd been kind of embarrassed about it. They only ever made out since then, because before it ever got that far he stopped it, nervous that he'd disappoint her.

And now his non-existent sex life was the topic of conversation, and if anyone picked up on it, he would have felt worse about the whole thing.

So, he didn't stop himself from speaking. "But if you must know, it's great."

Y/N's hand tensed up in his, and she looked over at him, shock marinating in her eyes. To anyone else it would have looked like she was surprised he'd even bring it up, but he knew she was most likely more curious to know why he'd lied about it.

Their friends laughed regardless, Elle adding a curious and joking, "Care to elaborate?"

Ready to change the subject, Spencer shook his head. "Nope."

"Yeah, actually I think we're gonna head out early," Y/N added. Spencer was suddenly worried he'd made her upset, but she rubbed gentle circles into his hand that reassured him everything was okay.

He got out of the booth and Y/N followed, as their friends grumbled.

"Oh, come on, we didn't mean to embarrass you guys," Derek said.

"No, that's not it," Y/N said as she threw on a light jacket. "You just reminded me how much I'd like to operate with my boyfriend since I haven't seen him in a few days, so we're leaving. Have a good night."

Spencer felt searing heat rise to his cheeks as he turned around and ushered Y/N out the door, accompanied by low whistles and claps from their friends.

***

The two of them were sitting on the couch now, Y/N having just set down a couple classes of water.

"Sorry if you wanted to stay," she said quietly, playing with her thumbs. "You know we don't... actually have to operate if you don't want, obviously, I was just looking for something to say..."

"Oh, Y/N, I know. Don't worry about it. Really, I... I was the one who even brought it up, I should have just let you handle it."

She looked up at him with a small smile. "Why.. did you bring it up anyway?"

"Well, I... I guess I just felt embarrassed. And I know what we do together isn't any of their business, but I was just... I really was thinking about how much I love you, and when Morgan brought it up, I felt like I wasn't... living up? To your expectations? I don't..." He sighed, unsure how to properly articulate how he was feeling. "I don't know. I just thought about the last time we tried having sex, and I felt embarrassed about it, that's all."

"Oh, honey," Y/N cooed, scooting closer to him and bringing her hand up to brush some of the hair from his face. "You know, you... don't have anything to prove, right? I know how much you love me, and you don't need to be having sex with me to show me, I hope you know that."

Still, he couldn't bring himself to look at her face. "I do," he choked out, pulling at the hem of his shirt. "I'm... I'm sorry."

Y/N's tongue clicked, and she leaned into him, wrapping one of her arms around his neck and placing the other across his lap. She held him tight and kissed the side of his head. "Don't you ever be sorry, unless you cheat on me. Then there will be something to be sorry about."

He laughed at her joke, turning his head to brush his nose against hers. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she whispered, giving him the lightest of kisses on the lips.

When she pulled away, he leaned in again, kissing her a little harder, and she gladly reciprocated. With every passing second, all of his worries started to melt away like the snow to her sunshine. Within every kiss was an emanation of outpouring love and comfort that warmed his soul and gave him the confidence to try something bold.

His hands threaded through her hair as he drew her in closer, and instinctively, she climbed over his lap, resting her hands on his shoulders as he gently probed her mouth with his tongue. The sound of her sigh as she opened up to him and allowed him to fully explore her mouth with his made his stomach bubble and tense.

This would be about the time where he'd stop, telling Y/N that they should slow down, and she'd sweetly oblige and stay cuddled into his side as they drifted off to sleep.

But tonight he didn't want that.

Tonight he wanted more.

While one of his hands remained in her hair, gently massaging her scalp, the other snaked down to her lower back. He gently slid his fingers under the fabric of her shirt and pressed his palm flat against her, pulling her closer to him with a desperation that both shocked and excited her.

Deciding to test the waters, Y/N rolled her hips, feeling him jump slightly underneath her, followed by a whine that vibrated her mouth and sent a low hum of pressure through her stomach.

Still, she pulled away.

Well... She tried to.

When she pulled her face away from him, Spencer used the hand in her hair to bring her back, tilting his head in the other direction and continuing to kiss her with enough passion for the both of them. And it didn't help that the sound she made when he did it spurred him on. She whimpered loudly into his mouth, and the hand on her back involuntarily slid down to grab her ass.

"Hey," she managed to get out when he pulled away momentarily for air. "Hey, you don't... We don't have to really do this if you don't want. I—I don't want you to think that what happened earlier means we have to have sex."

"Y/N..." His hand gently kneaded her ass, and against her better judgement, she rolled her hips again, sighing out against his lips. "I don't want to put it off any longer... Really, I... I want to. I want to show you how much I love you."

She kissed him softly again, bringing both of her hands up to cradle his face. "You already do. Every day."

She was giving him an out, and Spencer appreciated it. But with the way his insides were practically melting away at her presence, he knew more than anything that this was what he wanted.

"I know," he said. "But if you don't mind, today I'd like to show you a little extra." And then he kissed her deeply again.

Her hands tightened on his face, right before they slid up and through his hair. She gently tugged at it, and he let out one of the most delicious sounds she'd ever heard. For future reference, she relished in that sound, in that feeling, and made a mental note to try it out some more when they got further along in their sexual path.

But tonight, she would let him call the shots. He was finally ready to try it again, and seeing how confident he grew in his touches and kisses when she submitted to him, it was the simplest decision.

So she remained on his lap until he made another move, encouraging him with whimpers and languid rolls of her hips against his. Her hands grew frenzied in his hair when he dipped his hand past the waistband of her jeans and underwear, sticking his fingers in only about a knuckle deep. The warmth of his hands against her bare skin sent shivers down her spine, which she let show by involuntarily grinding down on his lap.

Spencer groaned deeply more than whined this time, his grip on her hands gripping tighter to her backside. He forced himself to remove his mouth from hers long enough to breathe out, "Bedroom. Please."

As much as Y/N didn't want to get off of his lap, she knew that what waited for her in the bedroom would be worth the momentary loss of complete physical contact. So she peeled herself away from her boyfriend, grabbing him by the hand, and lead him to her bedroom.

Once the door was closed, he was on her again, caging her face between his large hands and capturing her lips in another heated kiss. They moved backwards until she hit her back against the door, and the second their movement stopped, Spencer used their standing position to press his full body weight into her, their legs tangling together.

Meanwhile, Y/N was trying to figure out where to put her hands. She wanted to brace them on his chest, but it was pressed tightly against hers. So they wandered over his back, but she couldn't decide whether to place them under his shirt or on his butt. Or maybe she wanted to grip his arms to feel the veins as they strained against his skin from holding her face. The possibilities were quite endless.

So endless that they were even surprising—Spencer noticed her wandering hands and promptly decided to place them where he wanted, which was apparently above her head. He removed his hands from her face and pinned her wrists to the door above her head, and she huffed a breath as he pulled away to speak.

"Is this okay? I wasn't too... too rough?"

The concern swimming in his lust-filled eyes drew a little whimper from her throat as she struggled to find the right words. But finally, she settled on, "That was so fucking hot..."

Relief flashed over his gaze right before he grinned. His fingers flexed against her wrists, and even though she couldn't see them, she could imagine how it looked. And it really was fucking hot.

Seeing the expression on her face, Spencer leaned forward again and kissed her one last time. Their lips moved together hungrily, dancing in perfect synchronization, the music being the frantic beating of their hearts.

And then he started to trail his kisses down her jaw and neck, keeping her hands firmly pinned to the door. Usually she was the one to explore his neck with her tongue and teeth, but this time he wanted to try it for himself. Mirroring what he'd felt her do to him hundreds of times over, he soaked in every single sound she made, from the little whimpers of pleasure to the soft, choked whispers of his name dancing over her lips. And when her hips canted forward, searching for any kind of friction, he decided to grant it to her.

As his kisses moved down along her collarbone, his hands gently slid down with him, over her arms and then down to the bottom of her shirt as he kneeled in front of her. He lifted the shirt slowly, each new inch of exposed skin being met with soft kisses until it reached her breasts. He reached up to palm them over her bra while he trailed his kisses downward again.

Even though she was wearing jeans, he pressed kisses to her legs anyway. She squirmed under his touch, and the feeling made his heart soar.

"Please, Spence," she huffed, bringing her hands down to lay overtop of his. She felt the tendons and veins in his hands as they squeezed her, and with everything she had, she tried not to beg him to use them in more interesting places. She wanted to let him take his time, to be a vessel for his exploration, but it was growing harder every second to be patient.

Thankfully he seemed to get what she was feeling, because his hands slid out from under her shirt and rested at her jeans. "Can I take these off?"

The fact that he even asked when she so clearly begged him to do it made her heart swell. "Please do," she chuckled, though it turned into a choked sigh when his fingers actually started undoing the button. And at the sound of her zipper going down, she could have come undone right there.

He pulled her jeans down slowly and helped her step out of them. And she thought maybe he'd take the next step and do the same with her underwear, but he opted to use his mouth instead.

With gentle kisses, he traced the hem of the fabric all the way to either side of her waist. And then he looked up at her with curious eyes and shifted his face, pressing his nose right up against where her clit would be. Her hands immediately went to his hair, but he grabbed her wrists again and laid them at her sides. "Do you want me to move this along?" His voice wasn't teasing as much as it was genuine curiosity.

Still, Y/N resisted the urge to tell him yes. "I—I want you to do whatever feels right. Tonight's... about you. What you want."

"Well, what I want is to make you feel good. So, again... Do you want me to move this along?"

Every time his lips moved, they brushed up against where she desperately wanted him. And it was killing her. So, she nodded vigorously. "Yes, please," she whispered.

And with that, Spencer released her hands and used his fingers to gently rub her over the fabric. The contact made her shiver visibly, and he took that as a good sign. So he wasted no more time and replaced his fingers with his tongue, fluttering his eyes closed at the taste of her. And he knew that once the thin fabric was gone it would be stronger, but even then he was thoroughly wrecked.

He kept lapping his tongue over her, feeling her panties get wetter with ever second, and he only finally removed them when she started grinding her hips closer to his face, desperate for more.

When he did finally bring his tongue to fully taste her for the first time, they both let out the filthiest sounds, months and months of build-up starting to come to a head. He tasted her like he would an ice cream cone, and for the first few moments his eyes remained closed, all his focus on this brand new sensation. But he wanted nothing more than to see her react to him. So he opened his eyes and continued his ministrations, pupils blowing wide at the sight of her above him.

She was panting, her mouth hung open and her tongue just barely peeking out over her bottom lip. Her eyes remained shut, though Spencer could tell she was struggling to open them. With a tentative flick of his tongue over her clit, he took notice of the little gasp she made, and he knew he'd found it. So he repeated his action, providing small kitten licks to her clit as she picked up her breathing and clenched her hands at her sides.

He picked up the pace then, taking note of every little thing that made her cry out or jump with pleasure until she was clutching his hair. He was sucking on her clit now, his middle finger gently sliding in and out of her when she spoke.

"Oh, fuck, keep doing that. I'm... I'm almost..."

He felt her tighten around his finger as she started careening off the edge, and he did his best to keep his eyes on her face, because it had practically been haunting him, wondering what it would be like to see her come undone at his mercy.

To say it was better than he could have ever dreamed was a severe understatement.

Y/N's head leaned back against the door, her chin jutted out so he could see the beautiful contours of her chin and neck. He saw her throat contract as she moaned out his name, saw her chest heave as she struggled to catch her breath, and best of all, he felt her flutter around his finger and mouth. And if that was high inducing, he couldn't wait to feel wat it would be like to replace them with something else.

The mere thought had him trembling.

He pulled back when she huffed out an over-stimulated, "Okay, please, please stop, oh..."

Though it could just as easily have been a painful sentiment, the hungry, dazed look in her eye suggested otherwise.

Spencer stood up and brought his finger to his mouth, still caught up in her taste before she ripped his wrist away and kissed him, threading her fingers through his hair and moaning into his mouth.

Before he could get lost in it, though, she pulled away and nodded. "Okay. I think you're wearing too many clothes."

He tilted his head down in a little flush, and with the help of Y/N, his shirt peeled away from his body and joined her pants and underwear on the floor.

Y/N mirrored his actions, kissing gently down his jaw, neck, and then down his torso. Her hands wandered his bare back as she sunk to her knees. But when her hands moved to his belt, he stopped her.

"W—wait."

She peeled her hands away and looked up at him. "Are you okay? Do you want to slow down?"

He visibly swallowed, and she could read that look on his face that he got whenever he was embarrassed to tell her something. "N—no, I... I want... the opposite, actually."

"I don't follow..."

"Well, I know that... if you return the favor, I won't last very long, a—and I... I don't want to wait anymore."

Y/N smiled, standing again and bringing her hands to rest on his shoulders. "So you're saying you... want me to move this along?"

Spencer smiled at her recollection of his words. "Yes, please."

They travelled to the bed then, Y/N taking off her shirt and bra when they got there, and leaving her completely bare to him. She sat down and reached for his belt, looking up at him as he stood.

"I'm clean and on birth control, do you still want to use a condom? I have some in my table drawer."

He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "As long as you're sure."

Y/N undid his belt quickly and threw it to the side, making work of his button and zipper with a smile. "Oh I'm so sure..."

The way she said it made his dick twitch, images running through his mind of how it would look seeing her filled and dripping with—

Her hand was palming him through his underwear now, and it was all he could think about. He had already been hard before, but now it was tilting on the precipice of painful pleasure. So he stopped her, taking a deep breath.

"Lay down?"

"However you want me," Y/N answered, positioning herself on the bed so she was leaning back, her head nicely laid out on the pillows.

Spencer swallowed and removed his underwear before climbing on the bed and kneeling over her. Her legs were already wide, feet flat on either side of him as he positioned himself and got ready.

She reached out and gently grabbed his forearm, a gentle smile on her face. "You ready?"

"Mhm," he answered with a curt nod, bringing himself forward to run the head of his dick through her wetness. They both sighed at the feeling, and Spencer knew he was in trouble.

It was finally happening, he was getting another chance to have sex with her, and if he didn't last long again, he was going to—

"I love you," Y/N said reassuringly, rubbing circles into the hand that rested on the inside of her thigh.

He looked into her eyes and saw that love radiating from them. It warmed his insides and gave him the confidence he needed to finally, slowly push into her as he whispered, "I love you, too."

Once he was fully sheathed inside her, he let out a large breath, leaning down to brace his arms on either side of her head. The pressure of her clenched around him was overwhelming in the best way possible, and he never wanted to move.

But he had to.

She stroked his hair, pressing soft kisses all over his face, and whispered, "I love you."

With those three words, Spencer had the courage to pull back and then forward again, testing the waters and more accurately, his limits. He picked up a slow pace that burned him from the inside out, every muscle and vein in his body on fire with the knowledge that he was finally, properly making love to the woman he was pretty sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

But he was holding back. Y/N could tell. He glided through her with ease, sure, but his eyes were squeezed shut like he was concentrating, like he was pacing himself and trying to hold on to this feeling.

She moved her hands down to his back and lightly ran her fingernails over the skin, feeling him tremble under her touch.

"You feel so good, Spence," she whispered. "So perfect for me..."

The words made his hips stutter just a little, and Y/N knew then what the hesitation was.

He wanted to go faster.

So she moved her fingers lower, cupping his ass and scratching featherlight circles into the skin as she moaned. "You like when I talk to you, baby? Does hearing my voice help you out?"

Spencer choked out a groan as he opened his eyes and saw how feral she looked. Her pupils were blown wide, her mouth was pouted cutely, and she smiled as soon as she saw him bite his lip.

"You wanna go faster?" she cooed, digging her fingernails a little harder into the flesh of his ass. "Hmm?"

"F—fuck, Y/N... I..."

"You fuck me however you need to, baby. Don't hold back. Just let it all out."

He groaned out then, his hips picking up speed. She felt the relief and the tension rolling off his body as he finally gave into his urges, and it was just about the sexiest thing she'd ever witnessed.

"That's it, baby... Don't stop... Give it to me, let me feel you..."

He leaned down and kissed her then, pumping into her harder and harder with every second. She moaned out against his mouth, swallowing all his breaths and grunts. Meanwhile her fingers gripped his ass harder, relishing in the feeling of his muscles as they aided in fucking her.

His mouth pulled away as he shoved his face into her neck, and she sighed. "You're doing so good, baby. Fuck... " His hips kept moving, and she clenched around him hard, hoping to gauge his reaction.

Sure enough, he groaned against her neck and canted his hips harder. Every thrust forward now was so deep he hit her g-spot, and the sensation made her sigh with a smile. "That's fucking right, baby... Just like that, don't stop, don't stop. You fe—el so... ohhh."

Her words lit this fire in him that was impossible to put out. His body was hers for the taking, and so he'd give her everything he had. Which is why he picked up the pace and fucked into her as hard as he could, dangerously close to finishing.

"Fuck, Spence, I'm gonna... —na..."

Y/n's moans turned into a quiet scream as she came, clenching tightly around his dick and digging her fingernails into his ass. Her eyes squeezed shut with the swirling patterns of fireworks exploding behind them, meanwhile he twitched inside of her and lost it at last. As she came down, she helped him hold himself there, deep inside her as his cum spilled over in warm increments. They both moaned out at the feeling, all their tension easing and dissipating.

By the end, all that was left between the both of them was a thin sheen of sweat and murmured promises of "I love you."

They could have fallen asleep right there. Y/N's hands slid up his backside, over his arms, and then to the back of his head, combing gently through his disheveled hair as he pressed loving kisses to the patch of skin where her neck met her collarbone. He was still inside her, unwilling to leave the warmth she provided, and she did nothing to object.

"How are you feeling?" she finally asked, opening her eyes.

Spencer tilted his head up to look at her, his heart once again swelling at the adoring look in her eyes. "I'm great."

She laughed, and he laughed with her. And they were silent for a few moments before he spoke again.

"So, uh... What we just did is what we're counting as our real first time together, right? Like, the other time doesn't count?"

Y/N laughed again, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "If you want to count this as our first time, then yes. I'd be more than happy to agree with you."

"Good. This was much better."

Even though she would never hold their first first time together against him, she was inclined to agree.

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

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PART 6

If sharing a glass of wine with Harry the other night didn’t make you wish things could go back to normal--whatever that was--seeing him with CeCe before bed did.

She stomped her feet in the bathroom when you brushed through her hair. “I’m not tired! I want to stay up later with Maeve!”

Maybe that was another parenting fail in the last year--giving Maeve a later bedtime. She had bargained with you long and hard. She wanted more time on her phone but you wouldn’t budge. When you had heard enough of the I’m practically a teenager, mom! you figured there probably wasn’t an easy way to tell her that in two years she’d look back at herself and laugh.

So you caved, which you were doing more of lately but only with the silly stuff: bedtime, playing outside, dessert before dinner on occasion and even a PG-13 movie at a friend’s house when Maeve really got snippy with you.

But your energy was draining. After all the shit you’d put up with, you figured that hearing a few swears or seeing a high school party wouldn’t kill your 11-year-old.

CeCe, on the other hand, might be the death of you.

She was more outspoken than her sister, if that was possible. She had lungs on her that carried her voice through the house, especially when she whined.

“I want to stay up late!”

“You can’t,” you told her firmly. “I’m sorry. You’ll thank me tomorrow when you wake up refreshed.”

She made a face at you in the bathroom mirror, she probably didn’t understand what you meant but you smiled back at her anyway.

“I don’t want to sleep.”

You didn’t reply, instead let out a sigh and ignored the way she pouted until she stomped her feet again. “I want to watch TV!”

She smacked a fist on the counter when you didn’t reply, your eyes went wide with shock. “Cecelia Rose,” you scolded. “You do not yell at mommy like that or bang your fist on the counter.”

Maeve was nowhere to be found, likely scrolling in a group chat with other pre-teens who sent too many emojis. You almost wished she’d pop her head in to intervene--sometimes she was good at talking CeCe off the ledge, even if just to distract her.

The next best thing, though, when Harry knocked on the door and peered through the crack. “Everything alright?”

“Just dandy,” you forced a smile.

“Mommy is making me sleep,” CeCe frowned up at him.

“She is?”

“She is,” she nodded. “And I’m not tired.”

“Well, mommy has good reasoning, you’ll be sleepy tomorrow if you don’t sleep now.”

She didn’t seem to care, she crossed her arms over her chest once you finished the braid at the base of her neck and clapped her on the shoulder. “I won’t be tired.”

“Do you want to read together?”

She looked up at him with narrowed eyes, almost like she was waiting for the catch. When he smiled again, she let out a hefty sigh but headed for the door. “Fine.”

Harry smiled over his shoulder at you and followed behind her, trailing her down the hall until she took the left turn into her bedroom with a butterfly carpet. She walked over the bookshelf, picked out The Big Book of Bedtime Stories, and pulled the sheets back.

You were in the doorway, watching as she fluffed her own pillow and then looked up at Harry. “Are you coming?”

She patted the spot next to her, gesturing for him to get close enough for her to fall asleep on his shoulder. He hesitated, stole a glance in your direction and then did as she said. He adjusted the pillow behind his head and CeCe wriggled beside him until she was comfortable. When she was, she nestled right into him, looked up at you and then said: “are you coming?”

You paused, parted your lips to let her down gently, but then something in you tugged your torso towards his. He was surprised by this, too, shifted in the tiny bed to make room for you to crawl over and squish yourself between CeCe and the wall.

Harry, with a smirk on his lips, looked over at you when he opened the book to CeCe’s favorite story. “Comfortable?”

“Go ahead,” you rolled your eyes, ignoring the silliness of the moment but somehow wishing it was routine.

You put a hand on her pajama pants, petting her mindlessly as you listened to Harry’s voice when he thumbed through the pages. You’d had moments like these with Luke, when Maeve was tiny and CeCe was barely a thought. It’d been a while since you laid in bed with another adult, your child between you as she let out sleepy sighs and fluttered her eyelashes against her cheek.

The lights were dim now, you watched as his fingers pulled each page and tried to forget the way they pulled moans from your mouth.

He stopped halfway through, looked over at you and smirked when her breathing got heavier, but he kept going. He’d learned: if you stop too soon, she’d bolt awake and tell you she’d never fallen asleep to begin with.

He carried on like that for a while, glancing over to see if her eyes were open, sometimes catching your gaze but looking away quickly. Timid, like he was just as unsure as you were.

He finished a story and started a new one, and for a moment you wondered if he kept reading just to not disturb the scene: the two of you with your daughter sandwiched between. If someone looked in on it from the outside, they’d think you were a family.

Eventually he cut himself off mid sentence, derailed the story of the princess and the pea to ask you: “should I keep going?”

“No,” you laughed a little. “She’s out. We’re fine.”

He shut the book and pulled away from her gently. You lifted her head a little and tugged your arm out from the sheets and he placed the book on the desk to the right of her bed. He stuck his hand out to help you climb over her quietly. She stirred, opened her eyes and looked up at the two of you.

“Love you mommy,” she said, you bent down to press a kiss to her forehead.

“Love you too, sweetie.”

“Love you, Harry,” she said through a sigh, eyes already closing when you turned around to leave. His eyes locked on yours, caught off guard and unsure of how to reply, but he looked down at her, lips in a small smile.

“Love you too, CeCe.”

And just like that, your life turned to a personally targeted and especially cruel single-mom hell. It was already there, practically. He played outside with your kids? He drove Maeve to play dates and picked CeCe up from ballet? He cooked dinner and poured you wine and tucked deep inside your memory were images of his head between your legs and his fingers laced with yours.

And now he said he loved one of them? You made a beeline for your bedroom, shut the door and didn’t say goodnight because you knew it would only get worse from here.

You were right. It was torture. Daydream, fairytale level torture when he helped Maeve with her homework the next night and even more painful when CeCe fell asleep with her head in his lap after a movie.

Maybe the worst part, though, was when you sat beside him on the patio a few nights later. The sun had set and you had a glass of crisp rosé in your hand when he turned to you.

“Look what CeCe brought home the other day,” he moved his phone to show you the screen. A drawing of stick figures, red and green and blue under a yellow house. He pinched the screen to zoom in, the actual artwork was nowhere to be found.

“What is it?” You tilted your head to the side and let out a quiet laugh. Her drawing needed work, but the color choices were bright and vibrant, just like her.

“Well, it’s us I think.”

“Us?” You looked up at him for a moment, CeCe hit the tennis ball into the pool and Maeve let out a frustrated groan.

“That’s her, with the tutu obviously. That’s Maeve and you right there--I’m assuming, by the way. This is all interpretation.”

You let out a laugh but watched when he zoomed in on the other stick figure.

“And that’s me, I think,” he tilted his head sideways now, looked at it closer. "With the guitar." You reached out your hand, brought his phone closer when he let you have it.

“When did she give this to you?”

“Monday--no, Tuesday, I think.”

“What did she say?”

He shrugged when you looked up. Maeve had gotten the leaf skimmer and CeCe clapped when the tennis ball was back on dry land.

“She said she drew ‘home.’”

“Home?”

He nodded, looked back over at you with raised eyebrows, a sense of nonchalance when he held his palm out to retrieve his phone. “Cute, right?”

It was cute, obviously. It was sweet and endearing and then you asked: “where’s the actual drawing?”

“On my nightstand.” He watched as CeCe tugged a hoola hoop from a bucket of toys. “Might frame it and show her, she’d be so excited.”

“She would be,” you nodded. “She’d love that.”

He left it alone, showed Maeve how to swing the bat better before you eventually decided it was too dark to sit outside. They sat at the island and ate ice cream, cherries and sprinkles and Harry even doused his in chocolate sauce.

Your heart ached for the family that CeCe drew: one with less complexity and one where age differences didn’t mean a thing. One where there was no such thing as death or divorce. Just four stick figures beneath a triangular roof with grass scribbled around the edges of paper.

You wished, desperately, that the four of you could be the stick figure family with no worries and no problems. You wished time could freeze and Harry’s house wouldn’t be ready in another 10 days. In a way you wished that Luke didn’t exist, you wished that your life was as simple as it looked on 8 x 11 inch paper with scribbled marker.

Zoey stood in your bedroom, lips pushed out in thought when you held up a different necklace. “This one is chunkier which I can’t tell if I like.”

She thought on it for a second, already dressed and ready to go like the timely human she was.

“I like the first one,” she nodded. “It’s more I’m the boss than that one.”

You laughed at her reasoning, held it up to your neck when CeCe burst through the doors with a scowl on her face. “Mommy, Maeve said I’m being stupid and annoying.”

You frowned at her but clasped the necklace around your neck, “that’s not very nice of her. Why’d she say that?”

“Because I was asking her to push me on the swing but she was too busy texting someone.”

You let out a sigh and made a face at Zoey in the mirror. Buying Maeve a cell phone was something you’d thought long and hard about. She begged and begged for one at her birthday, but something felt wrong about handing over a thousand dollar piece of technology to someone who was barely old enough to watch TV unsupervised.

Harry and Luke’s punching incident is what did you in, though. What if Maeve was at a friend’s house and something like that happened? You needed her to be able to contact you in case she felt unsafe or uncomfortable.

You also figured it would be a good way to distract her from what was really going on under your roof: mom fell for the guy who stayed in our guest suite and now it’s a hot mess.

“You’re not stupid or annoying,” Zoey reassured her. “Maeve just thinks she’s too cool for everyone now that she has a phone.”

CeCe let out a dramatic sigh. “You can say that again.”

A knock on the door, she turned around to see Harry. “Maeve said I’m stupid and annoying.”

Harry frowned and knelt in front of her. “That’s not true.”

“Oh I know,” she shrugged. “I just think that’s stupid and annoying of her to say that.”

You bit back a laugh when he looked up at you, shocked by her attitude and her wit before she ran off to her bedroom down the hall.

Harry stood back up and greeted Zoey. “Hi--how’re Shawn and Benny?”

“They’re great, and they’re on their own tonight which I am so grateful for.” She’d been dying for another night out of the house, she talked for weeks about what she wanted to wear and what she was going to drink. “You two should meet, you and Shawn. He’s not a musician by any means but he’s a killer steering wheel drummer when we have the classic rock hits on.”

Harry laughed, looked over to you quickly before nodding in Zoey’s direction. “I’d love that, maybe we could all have dinner.”

You nodded at the suggestion, hooked an earring into place before Harry remembered why he came in.

“Speaking of dinner, I have a meeting with my stylist but I’ll be there tonight, obviously. Probably around 7:15 though, is that alright?”

“Totally fine,” you nodded. He told you a few days earlier that you’d have to drive separately, quelling your anxiety about showing up together and going home together. Your living situation was no one’s business, but having Harry at the launch party to begin with was sure to stir up enough chatter, even if it was mostly from Tristan or Jeff.

You’d been trying to hide your anxiety. This was your biggest launch to date, arguably a step outside your comfort zone and feeling so uncertain about things at home left you feeling more nervous to have your employees and your friends in the same spot. The girls were headed to Shelli’s, a movie night and arts and crafts, she promised.

But it was setting in now, questions and thoughts and worries were bouncing around in your head like a pinball machine.

Would Maeve and CeCe behave for Shelli? Would they get along with each other? Would the launch party go well? Would Tristan bring a date? Would people like the body wash? Would Harry sit next to you at dinner? Would things ever feel normal between the two of you again or would he move out and fade out of your life like he’d never even entered it at all?

Zoey had stepped out into the hallway, phone pressed to her ear as Shawn asked a question about formula.

“You alright?”

Harry was still in the doorway, suit pants on and a white button down as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just nervous.”

“Hey,” he took a step towards you. “It’s going to be great. You’re going to be great.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and then withdrew it. “You are great.”

You smiled, appreciative of his kindness but already overthinking the way he pulled his hand away, like your skin was too hot to touch or like your bodies coming into contact was suddenly forbidden.

“I just want the body wash to do well and I want the dinner to go smoothly. Tristan always goes overboard with these events and I just hope that the food is good, I mean, I’ve never eaten here before--”

He laughed, “hey, it’s going to be fine. I might be a bit late but I’ll get there and Jeff and I can do something stupid to make you laugh and forget about the stress of it all. Everyone wins.”

You nodded, reassured by his words but also caught off guard by how easy it was to admit: “I’m really glad you’re coming.”

“Me too,” he nodded. “Kind of feels like we haven’t seen each other much lately.”

You lifted your eyebrows at that, a week since Luke’s surprise visit and a week since Harry had so much as looked your way for more than ten seconds. You hadn’t told him to stop, you never said you didn’t want to keep sleeping with him or anything of the sort, but he took your words on the patio to mean that, apparently.

How were you supposed to backtrack? How were you supposed to have a conversation with him about it when there’d never been one in the first place?

If you hadn’t defined it originally, how were you supposed to quantify the change that had occurred as the bruise on his skin faded to a pale yellow?

“Okay,” Zoey laughed, a shake of her head when she ended the call and came back into the master suite. “How hard is it to find the bottle brush in the drawer where it’s literally been for the entirety of Benny’s short life?” She cut herself off when she looked up from her phone to see how close Harry stood to you.

He backed up. “Good luck, you’re going to kill it. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You nodded. “Yes, right. Thanks.”

He turned on his heel and offered a smile to Zoey, whose eyes immediately flew to yours once he was descending the stairs. You briefed her over lunch shortly after Luke had shown up on your doorstep, but Zoey was decidedly team Harry and had a hard time even admitting that he shouldn't have gotten involved.

Her eyes were wide, lips set in a frown as if she’d just witnessed the most adorable thing. “He likes you so much.”

“No, Zoey, stop.”

“I leave the room for one second and you're having a heart to heart?”

“We weren't having a heart to heart,” you rolled your eyes. “He was just offering some encouragement.”

Partially true. His words were encouraging and that seemed to be the point of him coming up here. But you couldn’t admit to Zoey that part of your anxiety about the night was related to him. It felt stupid to admit that pulling back made you miss him, made you feel like something was missing.

Those feelings left your heart and your head a mess, unsure about what you needed and wanted and even more confused about what was right for everyone.

You turned back to the mirror to put your other earring in place. Zoey didn’t say more, she didn’t need to. She smiled at your reflection and you both knew that your words didn’t even begin to capture the complexity of it all. But you had a launch party to get to.

Your champagne flute was filled when you walked in, which was a great step towards quelling the nerves. Tristan was already working the crowd with grace and poise, smile plastered on his face when he bragged about all of the hard work your team had put in on this.

Zoey was excited to pump and dump in the bathroom, your employees were already plucking hors d'oeuvres from silver platters, and you just tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in your chest of wishing your dad was here. He’d be proud, no doubt, he’d be excited for you and he’d be cracking jokes with Irv in the corner as Jeff tried to keep them under control.

The emptiness that he left in your life was something you’d live with forever, you were sure of this until suddenly there was a man in your house with a dimpled smile and patience for your children that you never saw coming.

Another look around the room, balloons in the corner, high heels and lipstick on the women that made your team what it was. A moment of excitement, of celebration, and yet your heartbeat picked up when you realized that you were here, alone.

You plucked your phone out to check the time, 7:24pm. He’d said 7:15--he clasped his hands on your shoulders like he meant it and you wondered where he was. Tristan pulled you over to another friendly face before you could sink too far down that rabbit hole.

Zoey had Shawn, Shelli had Irv, Jeff always had someone. Even Tristan had Tinder dates for the nights that he got lonely. You had the girls, of course, you had a life that you loved and a job you were proud of. But what did that matter if you didn’t have someone to share it with, to whisper to in the mornings when sun streamed through the windows and you were woken up too early by daughters that begged for adventures?

You’d grown used to feeling that way. Your marriage was over long before the papers were signed, but your father’s sudden decline left you reeling and unsure which way was up.

You’d never admit it aloud, but Harry showing up brought you back down to earth and kept you tethered to a life that felt manageable and doable and somehow possible.

Another glance at the time, 7:32pm. Tristan asked when you wanted to make a toast and thank everyone for coming to celebrate, you made an excuse and tried to buy yourself time like his absence was currency.

You wanted him here, you wanted his arm around your shoulders and you wanted to introduce him to your team--take a bite of his dinner and then bring him home like that was where he belonged.

How embarrassing, though, you talked yourself up enough to let him come and introduce him to the rest of the girls at work, only to be stood up or forgotten or altogether abandoned. Your fantasy of being with him felt even more stupid and naive when you realized that it’d probably never be like that.

Your glass was refilled at 7:49pm, Zoey laughed when your head of marketing recounted the embarrassing moment when a picture of Maeve ended up on the company instagram story.

Frustration, anger, maybe both when the clock struck 8pm. Forty-five minutes late without a text message? But those emotions were drowned out by the judgment: why do you care, he’s not your boyfriend, this doesn’t mean anything.

You answered too quickly when he called, phone pressed to your face: where are you?

Pulling up, down the street, I’m so sorry.

You handed your drink to Tristan, pushed out to the parking lot to find him jogging towards the door in the dark sky.

“Hi, hey, why are you out here?” his smile faded when he could see you were upset.

“I had no clue where you were and you didn’t even bother to text me--” you were stopped dead on the sidewalk, the sky was a light purple and he grabbed your hand to tug you back towards the entrance.

“I’m sorry, I know, my meeting went late and the traffic was terrible, I didn’t want to bother you--”

“You said you’d be here at 7:15 and I’ve been in there by myself--”

He didn’t understand, his eyebrows dipped on his forehead in confusion and he pulled at your arm again. “I know, I’m sorry, but let’s get back in there so you can--”

“No, Harry,” you yanked your hand out of his grasp. A deep breath, a twinkling light above the horizon, a plane on final approach to LAX. “Just give me a minute.”

He sighed, looked over his shoulder to the big windows that allowed a peek into the party. He didn’t say anything, waited for you to speak when the light at the intersection across the street turned green.

“I was stupid for thinking this would be a good idea,” you said aloud, arms crossed in the parking lot. “But it’s fine, it’s not a big deal.”

“It’s obviously a big deal,” he held a hand out, gesturing to the emotion in your voice. “I fucked up, I get that. I’m sorry--but I tried to call you and tell you I was going to be late, something’s wrong with my phone.”

Happy couples strolled out of the restaurant, arms linked with to-go boxes in hand. The air was still warm, streetlights illuminated the wrinkle in his forehead when he took a step forward. “Is this about more than the party?”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by his ability to read you and sense the real tension beneath the surface. So you lied: “No.”

“Y/N,” he said your name like he knew your words weren’t true. “What’s going on?”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should break the silence that you’d both been living in for weeks. Unspoken, so far--the feelings and the sex and the uncertainty of what it meant had been woven into your life and now you were about to tug the thread and see if it unraveled.

“We’ve been kidding ourselves, Harry, don’t you think?” When he tilted his head to the side, you took it as a cue to continue. “We’ve been acting like a couple and you’ve been acting like the father of my children and we can’t do that.”

His lips parted and your heart seemed to stop when he didn’t say anything. He licked his lips, hands in his pockets when he said: “okay.”

“Okay?”

An incredulous tone in your voice put him on the defense.

“What do you want me to say?” His shoulders lifted to his ears, a shake of his head when he dropped your gaze. “Living with you and spending time with the girls has been the greatest thing I’ve had all year, I mean that. But it’s your house, they’re your children. It’s your family.”

He was right, but it didn’t mean the words didn’t sting like salt in a wound when he asked: “Do you want me to move out?”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

He scoffed, upset or bothered or maybe both. “I was never trying to overstep any boundaries.”

“I know you weren’t,” you said quickly. “That’s the problem, all of this happened so naturally and you fit into our lives so well and the girls fell in love with you and I--”

You cut yourself off, clamped your mouth together as if the words would pry their way out.

“You what?”

“I don’t want them to get hurt again.”

He pointed a finger to his chest, anger on his face. “By me? You think I would do something to hurt them?”

“Not intentionally, Harry,” you let your arms flail against your sides. “But that doesn’t mean that you won’t. Their dad left, their grandfather died, and then you moved in and suddenly it’s like you’re the missing piece they never had but that’s not realistic!”

“Why not?!” He was bothered now, more emotion in his eyes when his hands went up to run through his hair.

“Because you’re you. You’re a musician. You’re recording an album and going on tour and you’re not really able to be present. You couldn’t even show up tonight!”

“I’m not Luke,” he shook his head.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why does it bother you that I was late? Why does that matter if I’m here now?”

“Because if you’d do it to me you’d do it to them. We don’t need to be left by another man this year.”

You didn’t mean for the words to come off so biting and harsh. He nodded slowly, chest deflated before he brought his eyes back up to you. “Fine. I can get my stuff and stay at Jeff’s.”

The shift in his demeanor felt heavy, his shoulders angled away and suddenly the magnetic pull between your chests was no longer there, like the thread had been snipped altogether and your words had been the scissors.

“I--I’m not trying to be a dick.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. I understand.”

“I just don’t want them to get hurt.”

“Or do you not want to get hurt?”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Forget it,” he said, a few steps towards you when his face softened. “Tell everyone I say hi. I’ll go get my things before the girls are home and I’ll be out of your hair.”

He let his arm snake around your waist, a kiss to the side of your head before you could stop him--not that you would have.

He left you there in the parking lot, alone again for the third time this year, walked out on and deserted when your eyes welled with tears. You turned on your heels to head inside, hoping that Tristan had kept things together and hoping that the champagne was still flowing.

Jeff found you first, hand on your elbow when he spotted you in the hallway near the bathroom, mascara on your cheeks when you tried to soak up tears with a folded napkin. “Hey--where have you been?”

“Harry’s moving out,” you said it quickly. “He’s going to--uh--he’ll stay at your place, I think, for now.”

He looked over his shoulder and back at the gathering behind you. “Is he here?”

“I found him in the parking lot--he left, though.”

“What happened?”

Where did you start? When was the line crossed? Was it when he started playing with the girls in the backyard? Was it when he carried CeCe up to her bed after Maeve’s sleepover? Or was it all the way back when he came to your birthday party and kissed you at the top of the stairs in an empty house?

“Nothing, it’s just time for him to move out,” you shook your head, embarrassed by the emotion streaming down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, shook your head and blotted your face again. Now wasn’t the time for this conversation and it certainly wasn’t the time for the tears.

“Y/N, stop. You’re letting him walk out of your life just like that?”

You looked up at him, thrown off by his question. “You don’t even know what happened. I’m fine, it’s all fine.”

“No--I don’t know, but I also know that I’ve never seen you as happy as you are with him and the girls.”

“He’s twenty-four, Jeff.”

“So what? That’s going to stop you from doing what’s right for you?”

“How is it right for me? He can’t be the type of person that Maeve and CeCe need.”

“Can he actually not be, or is the age thing getting in the way?”

“I can’t talk to you about this right now,” you pulled away from him, bothered by his strong opinions and his know-it-all attitude. Some things never changed.

“Don’t ruin something good just because you don’t know how it will end.”

You gave him the finger as you walked away, forced out a laugh and tried to flip the switch: happy, grateful, excited and ready for another glass of champagne.

He dropped it then, you left him with no choice but to follow you back out to the party. He ate mini cheesecakes before the crowd started to disperse and drove you home, a kiss on the cheek before you climbed out. Call me in the morning, he said. Translation: I hope you change your mind overnight.

Harry’s car was gone, and if you had to guess, the bed upstairs was made and the drawers were empty. His keys weren’t on the hook by the back door and when Shelli dropped off the girls and they raced inside, Maeve’s face fell.

“Where’s Harry?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought this far ahead, still numb from the whiplash of emotions. “He’s at Uncle Jeff’s--he’s gonna stay there from now on, I think.”

“Wait, so he moved out?”

“Harry’s gone?” CeCe asked.

“Not forever, no, no--he’s just not going to live here.”

“Why not?”

“He has to work,” you spit out quickly. “He’s busy.” What were you supposed to tell them? Mommy’s an idiot.

“Why does that mean he can’t live here?”

“Because he just can’t,” you said, a sigh when you knew the answer wasn’t good enough for Maeve. She must have sensed the emotion in your voice, though, because she didn’t push it.

“Can you bring your sister upstairs and start getting ready for bed, please?”

Shelli was at the island, quiet and observant when Maeve let out a reluctant sigh but ushered CeCe forward. They climbed in silence, and when the faucet was turned on, all bets were off.

“What on earth happened?”

“He can’t stay here, Shelli. We can’t do whatever it was we were doing.”

“Which was...”

“Pretending that he was their dad or something and me pretending that sleeping with him was normal.”

“And where does being happy factor into this nonsense equation?”

“It doesn’t.” You busied yourself at the sink, grabbed for the sponge and wiped invisible crumbs from the granite to keep your hands busy. “After Luke and my dad, I was just stupid, okay? It was poor judgment.”

She set her purse down on a stool and watched you closely. “Why does your happiness always come last, Y/N?”

“Because! My happiness doesn’t matter if the decision is stupid. Me plus Harry just doesn’t make sense!” You whispered at her, voice wrought with emotion. “He’s so young and busy and he’s in the industry and--”

“Is that what this is about?”

“Which part?”

“The industry, him being a musician.”

You waved her off like she wasn’t sniffing the truth out of you with ease. “It’s just a piece of it.”

“Y/N, just because your parents’ marriage didn’t work doesn’t mean you’re destined for the same future.”

You stopped wiping at that. “Really? Cause I’m thirty-two and already divorced.”

“But that’s because Luke is an asshole,” she reasoned, “not because of you or the girls.”

A sigh from between your lips, fervent wiping again with the tough side of the sponge, you were sure you felt something sticky. “Well, I doubt Harry would ever be the kind to settle down. That’s unrealistic. He’s famous and busy and he probably is sick of being on carpool duty anyway--probably wants to get back to snorting cocaine off of someone’s tits.”

She let out a quick laugh, shook her head. “You are really in love with him, aren’t you?”

“No,” you looked up at her again and then back at the counter. “I’m just being honest.”

“I don’t think he was ever snorting cocaine off of anyone’s anything. I might not know him as well as Jeffrey does, but, he seems pretty happy here with you three.”

“The girls loved having him here,” you said the thought aloud, it escaped into the air before you could realize Shelli didn’t need anymore ammunition.

“And did you?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” you moved back to the sink, wrung out the sponge and then turned to face her. “It was nice, I guess.”

“Well, then I guess that makes four.”

“Four what?”

“Four people who were all happy with the way things were going. Before you went and turned it upside down out of fear.”

“Okay,” you held up your hands, hoping to end the conversation. It was too late and you were tired--the final glass of champagne had your eyes heavy in the passenger seat of Jeff’s car. “I need to sleep.”

She let out a sigh and picked up her purse, moved around the counter to come and wrap her arms around you. “Don’t let your past ruin your future.”

“Goodnight,” you said sweetly, hoping that your tone would usher her out of the house and into her car, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

She laughed, called over her shoulder when she made her way for the door. “Don’t let the bed bugs bite!”

story page | talk to me + join the tag list

AN: one word, yikes.

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bangtanpromptsfics · 3 years

Text

agate.

dialogue prompt #8: “Woah... are you okay?”

pairing: idol!taehyung x reader

genre: fluff, established relationships

word count: 1,046

warnings: nudity(?)

summary: a selfcare night with your boyfriend

a/n: I'm kinda thinking about making banners for each of my oneshots (?), it'll take some time but I would like to put more effort into presentation of my fics so....yeah. I was so warm and fuzzy when I wrote this piece and it's honestly one of the things I hope all bts members get when they date. also lowkey an inspiration from tae’s song ‘sleep’ which he tweeted out of nowhere. I still remember I slept so well the night he posted ;-;. Also I'm trying to get a posting schedule as I get consistent with writing. It's mondays and fridays at 7am kst.

masterlist

“Woah... are you okay?”, you move closer to him, he looks visibly tired and panting for his breath, “What happened?”.

“Don't stress love”, he fakes a smile, “I'm alright”.

You cross your arms against your chest to gesture him you are not buying his reasoning. And when he is twisting his face into pain while bending down to remove his shoes, you are quick on your knees to untie them.

“Hang on I got this...was there dance practice today?”

“Yeah...”, he whispers, his breathing still staggered.

“Thought so”. You hold his waist while he leans his weight on you to walk over to the couch.

“Do you feel like taking a warm bubble bath?”, you ask, mentally preparing to join him.

“Not really. I just...I just need to go to bed. I'll take a quick shower”

Taehyung feels bad because he knows how much you enjoy couple bubble baths. Moreover he has not kept up with his responsibilities of a boyfriend with a comeback right around the corner. He feels really detached during times like this. It does pass after a while and you are happy and content and days are again filled with cute dates and lots of love. But it's just hard sometimes. And he feels his chest tightening at the thought now. He isn't sure how you felt about this phase. How do you cope with him not being around for so long?

Taehyung gets up from his seat to act upon what he just said. For a brief second he feels dizziness and before he could fall face first on the ground you catch him.

“Let me help you cleaned up Tae”, you plead, “Let me take care of you tonight, I can't watch you struggling like this”.

He gently nods knowing there is no alternative to that. His hold on you tightens, turning himself to you slowly for a hug. He feels quite foreign to this feeling now, and also somehow pulled back into his home at the same time.

“I'm sorry”, he mumbles. His words incoherent when he buries his face on your shoulder.

“Why baby? What's on your mind?”

He hums when your fingers lace on his hair. He wanted to say a lot of things but he is lost.

“I'm a bad boyfriend”

Your eyes shoot up and you immediately peel his face off your shoulder to cup his cheeks and look him in the eye.

“Hey...you are amazing Tae. What is making you think this way hm?”

“I...”, he trails of, not reaching any apparent sentence and you know it's your turn to fill in the words.

“You think too much. The burnout is getting to your head. Let's shower together and cuddle and you'll be alright okay?”

He smiles at how soft you sounded, as if you were talking to a child. He gives you his boxy smile, both of you breaking into a fit of giggles.

After stripping him and yourself, you stand next to him under the warm water, constantly holding his body in case he falls limb. And you find his soft touch on your waist, drawing hearts and shapes on your skin there.

“Here”, you take the loofah, lathering it with his body wash, “Tell me if your muscles hurt okay?”

“Okay”, he smiles, though he is completely convinced it is impossible for you to hurt him. Your movements are so soft, he sometimes giggles when it starts tickling.

You make him sit on the edge of the bath tub to give his shoulder a quick massage. His muscles were really tense and you smile seeing him sigh in releif when they are loosening up.

“I'll get us bathrobes”, you step out after cleaning yourself, not bothering to switch the body wash so you end up smelling like him.

Wrapped up in the fluff material, you pull him into the bedroom, seating him at the edge of the bed while you squirt hearty amounts of moisturizer into his skin. He never bothers to be consistent with skincare routine, since gifted with naturally beautiful canvas of honeyed skin, but he is endeared them when it was your hands rubbing goodness into his body. And just like always, you end it with a sweet kiss to his forehead.

“Should I help you with the clothes?” you ask, carrying his t shirt and shorts to him while having your own clothes in another hand.

“I'll do it. Thank you love”

Seeing him comfortable in his pjs, you take another towel to dry of his hair. Parting his legs a bit you make room for yourself to stand between them and dry his brown locks.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to hug your waist, and steady his upper body by leaning his head on your torso. You feel his grin against your chest when he sniffs in his signature scent on your body.

“Let's get you to bed hm?”, you pat his head playfully and adjust the temperature of the room.

“Can I lay on you?”, he asks, voice hinting he is close to drifting off any second.

You lay back on the bed comfortably opening your arms, “Come here”.

He plops his face at the crook of your neck, the rest of his body pressing against you slowly and limbs tangling into each other.

The bed dips accordingly to support his weight, making you feel comfortable in the position.

Taehyung is the one who usually ends up being the big spoon. Being a couple where both wanted to be active givers can get humorously competitive at times. So finally having these moments where you realize you can be a source of comfort is the happiest thing there is.

You feel him kiss your neck multiple times where his face rests, making you ticklish.

“Y/n...”,

“Hmm?”, you feel his heart beat quickening against your own, his frame vibrating whenever he speaks.

“Good night”, he simply states. Though you know he had a lot at the tip of his tongue. Maybe another time.

“Good night Tae. Sleep well”, you kiss his head, engulfing in his warmth and hands slowly rubbing on the curve of his back. And when you feel him still and breathing even, you drift to sleep as well. Content and happy.

Thank you so much for reading!! ♡♡

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phrynewrites · 2 years

Text

Girlfriends Without Benefits Chapter 2 Sneak Peek

Hello All! Here is a sneak peek of the next chapter of Girlfriends Without Benefits—aka fake dating au. This picks up right where the first chapter left off. Enjoy!

---

Only a few steps through the door to the studio—Bosco still shutting it behind them with their unoccupied hand, Jasmine hears it. That shrill, bubbly, voice that practically scratches the air around her.

“It’s too early for that.” Bosco recedes as Jasmine leads them into the studio, her hand in theirs, fingers laced tightly.

“Every fucking day, B.”

Jasmine had decided to again bring Bosco along to the studio, thinking that another appearance from them would do everyone some good, would reinforce that the person who took her home when she was sick was not only her roommate, but also her girlfriend. It was purely for the plan and had nothing to do with the pleasure she took in dragging Bosco out of bed at 5 a.m., leaning over them, poking their nose until they finally got up.

That girl was apparently quick to forget Bosco’s lips pressed against Jasmine’s cheek, how they practically carried her out of the studio, even. The day Jasmine returned, little thermos of chicken noodle soup in tow, the girl had gone on and on about how she wished she had a roommate who was good at cooking, as theirs left most of the cooking to her. She then listed out dishes she could make, before asking Jasmine if it’d be a good idea to bring something in to share one day.

A non-committal grunt before diving back into her soup—which was heavenly, she had to admit, like Bosco had spent centuries perfecting a blend of spices that wouldn’t upset her tentative stomach but would still flavor the broth—was all Jasmine could muster.

“Jasmine!” She calls again, jogging over now that she knew she caught Jasmine’s attention. “I just wanted you to know that—” She pauses for a moment, looking her up and down.

And in that pause, Bosco lines themself up with Jasmine, shoulder to shoulder, and draws their intertwined hands up to kiss Jasmine’s knuckles.

Bosco, Jasmine knew, was always thinking with the plan in mind.

With a slight grimace, almost uncaught, the girl continues. “That’s a really cute sweater.”

It was Jasmine’s favorite: Bosco’s Anti-Social Social Club sweater. Big enough that the sleeves curled over her palms and she was completely drowning in the fabric. Jasmine noted that it was finally washed again, after Bosco wore it when they brought Jasmine coffee, and at that note, Bosco, who also considered this sweater their favorite, insisted that Jasmine wear it.

“Thank’s, it’s Bosco’s,” Jasmine mutters, drawing her attention from Bosco’s lipstick on her knuckles to the girl again.

Turning the conversation, the girl tries once more. “I know you missed the solo coreo, but I learned it.” She’s ringing out her hands like she’s nervous. Jasmine tries to stop eyes from rolling at the sight. Nervous about what?

“So if you want, I can stay after and help you with it. Show you what to do.” She stops, as though she’s catching herself. “Not that you need—”

“Princess, I’ve gotta head to work,” Bosco tugs at their joined hands once more, gathering Jasmine’s attention before letting go, slipping their hands under the sweatshirt and placing their hands on her hips.

It’s a burning, pulsing warmth whereever Bosco touches. Bosco’s hands fold the waistband of her leggings down a bit, so their palms, the pads of their fingers, their comfortable grip, presses into Jasmine’s exposed skin. It makes her want to step closer, place her hand flat against Bosco’s chest, like she’s trying to return the warmth. So she does.

Bosco tears their gaze away but for a moment. She can see them thinking, their thoughts whip-qick. Jasmine can be quick too, she thinks.

“I hope you’re not working too late,” Jasmine says, smoothing down the collar of Bosco’s jacket. “It’s my turn to cook and we’re eating your favorite tonight.”

“Your pussy?”

Jasmine holds her face steady, pretending like the words your pussy were commonplace, expected. This was her girlfriend, afterall.

Bosco hums and Jasmine feels her hand, now feeling stuck against their chest, vibrate along. Then a pleased smile spreads across their face as the girl excuses herself, retreating back to the front of the studio with haste.

Once she’s gone, Jasmine uses her free hand to give Bosco’s shoulder a little smack, but even as she’s doing it, she knows it’s half-hearted, a deflated gesture she thinks she’s supposed to do. At least that’s what she thinks when she’s not otherwise occupied by the thought of Bosco, sunk on their knees, knocking her legs apart, nipping at her thighs…

“I’ll leave you with that, peaches,” Bosco says, their smile sly. They draw her in closer, their grip on her hips licking her like a fame, and press a kiss to her temple. “And I’ll be home for dinner.”

When Jasmine gets home that night after her extra rehearsal with Alyssa, tote bag in tow from having gone to the corner store to pick up some pasta and sauce, she finds Bosco has already beat her there. They’ve already got a grilled cheese on a plate, cut diagonal, and are working on flipping another.

They push the plate over toward Jasmine. “I know you said you were going to do dinner, but I figured I’d just start on it.”

Jasmine rests against the countertop, cornering herself in the kitchen before nodding and taking the sandwich. “True, but you also said we were having pussy for dinner so…I bought some pasta and sauce to go with it.” She tries to joke, hoping that it’ll cover up just how rapidly the Bosco’s quip from the morning had been coursing through her, like it had direct access to her blood stream.

Jasmine looks down at the sandwich before tentatively taking a bite. She’s breaching barely charted territory—at least for Bosco and her together. Once Bosco left the studio, Jasmine had been thinking about what they’d said all day, letting it make her feel weak in the knees, boneless, tripping over her feet and losing track of her steps from the thought of it alone.

“Was that too far?” They’re chewing on their cheek, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “I went to that bakery on third and got you an eclair,” Bosco continues, shakily pointing with the spatula, “I don’t know why you lke it. There was a guy with a hair net on his beard and he just touched everything. I don’t even think he worked there, to be honest, but whatever. I got it basically right after I left because I thought it was probably too far to talk about eating you out and I thought about asking you if it was too much, but also didn’t ask because that’d be, like, even more embarrassing.” They finally take a breath before grabbing the bag and plopping it down next to Jasmine, looking up at her expectantly.

But seeing Bosco right in front of them, so close? Practically feeling their hastened breathing? Her eyes trailing across the flush gracing their cheeks? It makes Jasmine think about how Bosco would be if they were genuinely worked up, if they genuinely had cornered Jasmine here in the kitchen, palms splayed on either side of her, pressing her to the cool tile of the counter…

“Jazzy,” They try. Their voice so solemn and deflated it brings Jasmine’s attention to them; holds it close. “Are we good?”

She raises a finger, waiting to swallow the bite of grilled cheese before taking the eclair from the bag and breaking it in half, handing part to Bosco.

“We’re always good. Promise.” Warmth spreads from her core to her chest as Bosco grins, their smile missing its usual crisp wickedness. Now it’s just soft and lived in, the kind you’d hold too long and too often until you’re prideful of the wrinkles it produces.

The silence is draped in the air, light and breezy. Bosco turns off the stove and Jasmine finishes her sandwich, watching as Bosco leans over the sink, scrubbing the burnt cheese from the pan.

It stays silent until Bosco’s done eating their half of the eclair, letting out a grunt as they quirk their lips, tongue darting out to catch a stray streak of chocolate on the corner of their mouth. And Jasmine, well she can’t help but feel just as she did in rehearsal all day, fixated on Bosco, their mouth, swearing they were teasing her with just how long it took to catch the chocolate with their tongue.

“You know,” Jasmine sets her half down on the counter. “I think we could actually go further than today.”

“Oh?” Bosco rests their hands on their hips, slowly falling against the counter behind them. “How would—”

“The production’s Christmas party is next week,” Jasmine says, charging on, especially now that she’s mustered the words again, before Bosco finds another way to seize her attention. “And I think you should be my date. Fake date,” Jasmine corrects. “Because you’re my fake girlfriend.”

Bosco studies her for a moment, like they’re trying to understand the task. Jasmine knows they’re forming a game plan before they’ve even begun playing. They always do.

But she’s not expecting Bosco to surge forward and reach out, only to brush past Jasmine and grab a paper towel off the roll behind her, their hand, the same one that held hers that morning, brushing against her neck as they return with the towel.

“Of course babe,” Bosco says, fixated on wiping their hands before looking up again. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

#this is all pre angst so enjoy it while it lasts #jasco fake dating au #gwb au #jasco #rpdr fanfiction #rpdr fanfic #rpdr fic #phryneff

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zeldas-personal-twink · 3 years

Text

I love the idea of a feminine Link reincarnation. I like the idea of Linkle. But,, I find it hard to love her when her male counterparts get pants and amour and weather appropriate clothing and close range weapons and she doesn’t.

So, I redesigned her. This isn’t suppose to be a “better” version because I know her creator loves her very much, this is just my own re-design :3

Click for better quality

First image is still a wip just btw, I couldn’t wait to finish it before I made this post I really wanted to share

Under the cut is a walkthrough and explanation for design choices xx

Also note: I tried to keep as many elements as I could from the original design, this isn’t suppose to completely rethink her, just make it more coherent with other Link designs.

First off, my girl gets chainmail! I figured it would be the easiest way to give her the most amount of protection, and with a soft cotton skivvy underneath for comfort and layering, and to bring in the white top she wears in the original design.

I lengthened her bootie shorts all the way because I couldn’t find a gap between thigh high sock and short that looked.. right? Like a tried a few lengths and they all looked awkward, so now her boots won’t cause sweating and chafing!

Her boots are steel capped and a steady leather :) I originally wasn’t going to keep her thigh high boots. I didn’t think twice to give her plain knee high boots like every other Link,, but I just thought gosh darn they cool af! And I think that it’s ok to pass them off as practical considering we do have,,,

This gorgeous item uwu

Now her tunic! It replicates her skirt from the original design, with double lacing running up the front. The neckline is the one from her white dress, good job if you noticed!

Linkle now has a utility belt, with Link’s classic bottomless bag and attachment for her quiver and sword.

Her original design also resembles a strange love child of Link and Tingle, so I tried to counteract it by moving her compass to her utility belt as that was the most damning element of correlation, as well as putting more orange/brown into her torso to break up the green

Vambraces, check✅

I haven’t finished the other model drawing of her with her cape/cloak/petticoat thingy and shoulder armour, so I’ll have to upload it later sorry! Because Linkle lost her cute necklace to the skivvy I used the pendant as the clasp/broach for her cloak! The cloak itself is intentionally pretty similar to the original design, as this is Linkle’s most defining and important piece she wears as it makes her the “green-clad hero”!! I’ve lengthened it for dramatic flare and changed up the hood tho so there’s a bit of variation!

Ik ik she isn’t canonically the reincarnation of Link (or at least from what I know, like I said, I haven’t actually played the games OOOPS) BUT! I think she should have a hero’s cap. BUT! She has her hood which is suppose to make up for it and it would be awkward if she had both the hood and cap. Sooooo I made the hood longer to mimic the shape of the hero’s cap more, and popped the same blue gem from her necklace on the end to incorporate the hint of blue in her colour pallet

I REALLY like her canonical hair! I think the cut is super unique so I’ve decided to keep it! I threaded blue ribbon through instead of her original orange because again I wanted to bring the blue through a bit more

And finally, the cross bow. I do not have the brain cells or knowledge or literacy skills to make social commentary, I can say tho that I don’t really like when female characters are always given passive, long range weapons because they apparently aren’t capable enough for a cool sword or axe or huge hammer. Linkle being a parallel to the classic Hero of courage narrative and Link in general, it sucks she doesn’t also get a cool sword like literally everyone else!! She isn’t destined to pull the master sword in Hyrule Warriors, however, I think giving her another cool artefact of a sword would work out well for her. It DOES take a lot of skill tho for amazing aim so I don’t want to take that aspect away from her, so I propose duel wielding with a sword ans crossbow (and if in an AU where she IS reincarnated Link, duel wielding with the Master Sword oooo~)

So yeah! Thank you so much if you made it this far, I really appreciate you reading all this blabbering!

#my art #legend of zelda #loz #hyrule warriors #linkle #concept #character design #Louie produces a coherent Thought

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years

Text

Camp North Star - June 9th

AFAB!Reader x Im Nayeon

Word Count: 2466

Contents: fingering, oral (both reader receiving)

You played with the flower that you’d picked between your fingers as dusk fell. It was a little cooler this evening and most of the other coaches were relaxing in their cabins or hanging out in the rec rooms. A week and a half had passed and soon the rest of the counsellors would be arriving. On top of that, there were still a number of things to do with Wonwoo; trying out all the canoes, mapping out the canoe trip routes, practicing rescues and teaching safety to the counselors. Lots of things should have been on your mind.

And yet, the only thing that was really coming back to you as you sat on your beach towel, staring out over the water of the lake as the last few rays of sunlight left the sky was the idea of a hoe summer. Of all the things you needed to do that was taking up your mental energy. It felt like too far out to really be a rebound or trying to fill some hole that he left, even if you weren’t 100% emotionally healed. But having some fun probably wouldn’t hurt. It could definitely boost your confidence after so much questioning yourself when he left.

There was still the matter of where or how to start. As much as everyone was joking about it you were pretty sure no one thought it was totally serious. If you asked would anyone actually say yes to messing around? What if you asked a bunch of people and they all said no? That might be a bit too big of a hit to your self esteem.

“Hey, there you are!”

You turned at the sound of Nayeon’s voice. She was strolling over the sand towards you, carrying her own big, fluffy beach towel. “I saw you out here earlier, I didn’t know if you would still be here.”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. “I’m just… thinking I guess.”

Nayeon laid out her towel and sat down next to you. “What’s on your mind?”

You turned to look back out over the water.

“Ah, it’s nothing serious.” You tore the last few petals from the flower.

“You sure about that?” She asked softly.

You thought for a moment. “I’m… thinking about what you said.”

“Oh? About the hoe summer?”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, that.”

“You know you don’t have to do anything like that, right? It was j-”

“No I-” You stopped as a grin tugged at her lips. “Don’t give me that look.”

She leaned in closer,” You do wanna do it.”

“I just think it might be fun, that’s all,” you muttered.

“Aww my cute little slut,” she squealed, pinching your cheek.

“You can’t call me that and act like it’s cute!” You cried, trying to bat her hand away. Nayeon giggled and cooed at you, grabbing at your cheeks as you started to laugh, trying to squirm out of her grasp before falling back onto the towel. She caught herself, a hand on either side of you before crashing down on top of you as your giggles started to subside.

A smile tugged at Nayeon’s lips again as she gazed down at you, not showing any sign of sitting up. “Did you figure out how you’re going to kick it off?”

“I- I wasn’t sure if anyone was taking the idea seriously,” you said, trying to read her expression.

“I think a few of them are. And you have time to get into that too,” she hummed. “You really just need to figure out where to start.” Her smile was curling into a smirk as you brain caught up to her proposition. You turned the idea over in your mind, liking it more and more by the second, not that she hadn’t already planted the seed.

“It was your idea,” You hummed, gaze shifting to her lips.

“It was my idea,” she leaned a little closer.

“Not that you get to call dibs.”

“Of course not,” her voice dropped to a quiet murmur as her lips came closer before she shifted. Her lips landed on your jaw instead and she started to kiss slowly along your neck. You let out a quiet sigh as your eyes fluttered shut and you enjoyed the feeling, your fingers threading into her hair. “But my offer stands.”

“I think I’ll take it,” your voice came out with a slight whine as she sucked at a sensitive spot on the base of your neck.

After a few moments her lips pulled away from your neck and she moved her face over yours, meeting your gaze as you opened your eyes. “I thought you might,” she hummed before her lips met yours.

Her kisses were slow and deep, tongue pressing into your mouth easily. One on her hands started to slip down your side, tracing the line of your body. Your hand in her hair kept her close against you as she kissed you. Slowly she shifted her body over you, her legs finding a place between yours.

“Can I play with you right here?” She purred against your lips as her fingertips drew along the waist of your shorts. “There’s no one else outside.”

You threw a glance up towards the camp buildings. An inky blackness had settled around you once the sun had slipped past the horizon. Only a sliver of moon in the sky above, in some moments blocked out by clouds, gave any light to the beach where the two of you were laying. Your eyes met hers again in the dark and you gave her a smile mixed with excitement and nerves that she returned sweetly before leaning in for another kiss.

Her hand slipped past the waist of your shorts, moving slowly. She trailed her fingers over your panties first, feeling the way you pressed your hips up to her touch. You let out little sighs against her lips at the light sensation, pulling her ever so slightly closer by her hair and letting your legs fall just a bit further open.

Her fingertips played with the edge of your panties before slipping into them and your breath hitched. Nayeon pulled back enough to gaze down at you as her fingers drew soothing circles into your skin.

“Are you alright?” She hummed.

“Of course,” you said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re tense,” she said.

A nervous grin tugged at your lips as you tried to relax a little. “Ah, I haven’t done anything at all since… Well it’s just been a while.”

Nayeon leaned in until her lips were grazing over yours. “Then let me handle everything tonight.”

Her lips met yours in another kiss. She kept the movements of her fingers slow, letting you get used to the feeling of someone else touching you again. Little by little you let yourself relax, feeling her fingers slip lower and lower slowly. Your fingers curled more tightly into Nayeon’s hair, kissing her more deeply.

Your breath hitched as her fingers found your clit. She held them still for a moment, focusing on kissing you before moving them in slow circles. Light sighs left your lips, no louder than the sounds of bullfrogs and crickets around you, but Nayeon still seemed to hear.

You felt the smile tug at her lips as her fingers found a slow rhythm. Tendrils of pleasure started to curl through you, sparking from her slow ministrations on your sensitive bud. You pressed your hips up subtly into her hand, wanting more as you relaxed into her touch and gave yourself over to the pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” Her voice was already laced with surety.

“Of course,” you hummed.

Her lips fell away from yours, finding your neck instead. She started to leave messy kisses along your skin as her hand trailed lower. Your hips pressed into her hand, growing eager for more and she smiled against your skin as she pressed one finger inside you slowly.

A quiet moan fell from your lips as you let your eyes flutter open. Still heavily lidded but you could take in the stars twinkling above you in the inky sky. A cool breeze blew across your skin, finding its way under your back as you arched away from the towel. Nayeon’s fingers curled and thrust into you at a steady pace that quickly had the pleasure building in your core.

“You’re good at this,” you breathed quietly.

Her lips trailed closer to your ear. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

A laugh bubbled off your lips, morphing itself into a moan as she picked up her pace just a bit.

“It shouldn’t be,” you moaned. “But fuck, this feels good.”

“I’m setting the standard high.” She hummed, slowly pressing a second finger into your core and drawing a moan from your lips. “I have to feel bad for whoever comes next.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at her words, enjoying yourself far too much to think about who the next would even be. The pleasure was building steadily inside you as she moved her fingers faster, but easily finding just the spot that made you clench around her fingers and had your back arching subtly off the towel.

Her lips left kisses and light love bites on the sensitive parts of your neck and along your collarbone. Not enough pressure to mark but enough to draw quiet moans from your lips. You let her hand slip down her shoulder, scratching slightly at her skin as your gaze drifted between her and the twinkling sky above.

“Whoever’s next, you should give them some pointers,” you breathed, neediness evident in your voice as your body crept closer to it’s edge. Your hips were following the movement of her fingers, trying to draw more sensation from them as she teased the skin on your collarbone with her lips.

“Maybe,” she hummed. “But why don’t I set the bar even higher?”

You met her gaze, your own hazy as you processed what she was saying. The loss of her fingers inside you interrupted that thought and a whine came from your lips as she pulled her hand from your panties. You opened your mouth to protest but she shoved her wet fingers inside before you could.

“Good,” she hummed, a smirk pulled at her lips as you ran your tongue over her fingers. “Get them nice and clean. I have a different idea for how to finish this.”

You quirked an eyebrow at her as you sucked at her fingers. “It’s dark out here,” she said. “And everyone is inside. So why don’t we get just a little more risque?”

“What are you thinking?” you asked as she pulled her fingers from your mouth. She didn’t give you an immediate answer, instead her lips came to your neck, kissing as low as your shirt would allow before she shifted down the towel and curled her fingers into the waist of your shorts.

“Oh!” you exclaimed before slapping a hand over your mouth and searching behind you, looking through the darkness to the camp buildings. Even Nayeon’s fingers froze in place, both of you watching. But when no movement happened and no one came towards the beach you both relaxed.

Her fingers tugged at your shorts and after another quick glance at the camp you refocused your attention on her, lifting your hips and allowing her to pull off your shorts and panties. She discarded them on the towel before sliding her hands up your legs to your thighs and gently pressing them open.

“Now just sit back and enjoy,” she purred, settling between your legs. “And comes to terms with the fact that no one else is going to make you feel quite as good all summer.”

“I’ll try an-” your response fell off into a moan as she ran her tongue over your clit. Your hand slid into her hair again as she moved her tongue, trying different motions over your clit and watching each of your reactions.

Her skilled movements built the tension in your core much faster than her fingers could, the feeling heavenly. Your gaze drifted down to meet hers and you caught the smirk, evident in her gaze alone. Her fingertips curled into your thighs as she started to repeat the movements that drew the strongest reaction from you.

“Oh fuck,” your voice had climbed higher and far more breathy as the coil in your core curled tighter and tighter from the ministrations of her tongue. You bit down hard on your lower lip to keep your moans from growing too loud but the more you succumbed to pleasure the less you cared.

Nayeon pressed in closer, scratching her nails down your outer thighs lightly and adding to the sensation. Your back arched off the towel again as your hips ground against her face as much as she would allow.

The moans falling off your lips were growing a bit louder with each passing moment but the pleasure wound tightly inside of you was the only thing on your mind as you curled your fingers tightly into Nayeon’s hair while she wrapped her lips around your clit, moaning against you while sucking it roughly.

“Fuck,” you breathed. “Do that again. Fuck that feels good.”

Nayeon hummed, her tongue lapping over your clit in quick movements, pressing closer between your legs as they started to press in around her head. Your eyes drifted up to the stars above, a cool breeze tickling the hot skin of your face as you moaned.

Her lips wrapped around your clit again and she sucked harshly. Your eyes rolled back, blackness taking the place of the stars as you came, back arching off the ground and holding Nayeon’s head between your thighs. The sensation crashed over you in a wave that stole your breath and left you panting as the rush of pleasure washed through your body, leaving you trembling in its wake.

Nayeon pulled away from your core as you caught your breath, only for you to grab at her and pull her in for a kiss. She accepted, grinning against your lips but sounds of laughter in the distance interrupted you.

You both looked over at the rec hall, lights shutting off as a group of coaches left the building.

“It’s getting late,” Nayeon hummed, sitting up. She handed you your panties and shorts and you took them, frowning at her.

“Wait, but I didn’t- you-”

“I guess,” she hummed, grabbing her towel and getting to her feet. You scrambled after her. “You owe me one.” She threw you a smirk you could just make out in the dark. “You can return the favour later.”

A smile cracked across your face. “I’m looking forward to it.”

#camp north star au #cns au #twice imagines #twice smut #nayeon imagines #nayeon smut #im nayeon imagines #im nayeon smut #let the hoe summer begin hehe

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