#i want you to know that i have this post queued so it he comes back within that timespan i'm going to look like booboo the fool | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

karinasbaby · 6 months

Text

SIM JAEYUN - HARD THOUGHT! PT.2

part 1

pairing: sim jaeyun x fem!reader (+17)

warnings: mentions of a horror movie, oral (f & m), petnames, jake gets pussydrunk, (pussy so good made him go to sleep), handjob, jake being in love, making out, marking, hickeys, overstimulation

wc: 2k

A/N: this is going to be a queued post as im not sure how long my break will take my loves, really praying this goes up on the 28th <3

ps this was proofread but at 5 am so good luck?

thinking about jake and just how attentive and caring he would be for his lover, he'll be completely addicted to u and every part of ur body and he always shows his appreciation to u in different ways, first he sets his goal on spending most of his time throughout the day with you, like for example tonight when he suggested to have a movie night with you since it was the weekend, and of course he had different plans,

now here you were with jaeyun's arm wrapped around your shoulder as u both cuddled on your couch, while you were paying attention to the movie playing ahead, jake's mind was in a complete different place than yours,

"you think he'll figure out the killer?" you questioned jake quietly, too immersed by the movie as the main character was unknowingly having a conversation with the killer, your attention too caught up to notice the way jaeyun's eyes were trailing at your neck, gaze wavering between your lips down to your chest, jaeyun licked his lips before returning his focus on your eyes that reflected every colour from the screen, "i hope so" he whispered into your ear quietly, he prayed his answer made sense as he completely forgot what you were questioning in the first place before he was back to sucking a deep breath in to supress his urges,

thats when you noticed that jake's hand that was resting on your shoulder on the beginning was by now was softly rubbing against your arm, gently squeezing your skin under his palm, each squeeze aligning with every deep breath he heaved in, he was shaking his leg, an anxious habit of his. from the corner of your eye you also noticed jake's gaze lingering on you for a few seconds before he teared it towards the screen,

what's wrong with him?

thinking that he was unreasonably restless due to the horror movie that was playing on the screen, you decided to place your hand on his shaking thigh, your soft palm coming into contact with his thigh brought your attention downwards, finally noticing the massive bulging tent in his pants,

oh.

that's what's wrong with him.

"you know you could've said something about this, jaeyun" you started, the movie forgotten as you moved your hand closer to his bulge, jake remained frozen, soft puffs of air leaving his mouth while both your hands worked to get his pants under his hips,

"i wanted you to enjoy the movie, baby" jake breathed out, his length finally springing past his tightened boxers making him throw his head back as the cold air of the living room brushed past his throbbing hot length, a sigh of relief went past his reddened plump lips, swollen from the abuse of his teeth when your fingers wrapped around his cock,

jake's hand lowered to wrap around your waist, you moved your body to the side, facing his heaving chest and furrowed eyebrows as you moved your hand around his length, slowly stroking from the bottom to the top before softly squeezing his pulsing red tip, jake quietened himself by burying his head into the welcoming skin of your neck, almost subconsciously his lips began to gently paint the open canvas of your chest and neck with his artistic bite marks and faint hickeys,

"i want to hear you, baby." he quickly obeyed your request, separating himself from your skin allowing the prettiest whimpers and low moans of your name to echo in the living room, becoming the only thing your ears can hear as the noises of whatever conflict was happening in the movie was wiped out from your senses entirely, only thoughts of jaeyun and his quivering body beneath your palms took over your mind,

"faster, angel. i'm close." he moaned out as you flicked your wrist around his pulsating length, his breathes becoming uneven, feeling his lower abdomen tightening as his impending orgasm was on the brink of having him teetering over the edge, his hot breathes fanning against your neck while his noises became whinier,

squeezing your thighs together, attempting to even your own heavy breathing with the pool of slick soiling your panties, your mind was spinning faster the louder jake's groans got, his grip on your waist was bruising, his nails digging into your plush skin through the fabric, the whole duration your hand was instinctively caressing his rock hard length, dragging your hands lower to softly squeeze his balls which had jaeyun gasping as his body shook against yours,

"fuck- baby, i'm so close," he breathed out, your eyes stayed stuck on all the breathtaking expressions that painted across his face that changed every second, his furrowed eyebrows relaxing for a second when you squeeze his tip before pinching back together when your precum covered palm drags back down to wrap around his base, the smallest bits of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth whilst his eyes remained shut tightly, jake was in pure bliss through out the tightening of the coil in his lower stomach seconds away from bursting to allow full euphoria to run along his veins,

"i'm c-cumming- fuck!" jake cursed loudly, his frame trembling against your hold while you littered his flushed face with kisses, ropes of milky white cum wrapped around your fingers while the remanents cascaded down his shirt, your by now aching and numb hand continued stroking his slowly softening length as you helped jake ride out his orgasm while his head was thrown back, low groans vibrating out of his chest whilst it heaved, slowly his thighs began to clench as you pushed him into overstimulation, with hooded eyes and a flushed face jaeyun looked at you with tears brimming his waterline,

"shit- baby, i'm s-sensitive," he stuttered out while moving a shaking hand to wrap around your hand that was caressing his over-sensitive red tip slowly, "relax, baby. am i not making you feel good?" you questioned, your soft voice rang in jaeyun's ears whilst he tried his best to control the jerking of his hips, "of course you are, angel." he chuckled at your words as another moan threatened to escape his lips, biting till he drew blood in his mouth amid you squeezing his tip continuously, "but t-this is too much.." he grunted out, his fingers weakly wrapping around your wrist in attempts of stopping you, finally giving in with a chuckle, you moved your hand away from him, smiling at the small whine that left his lips at the loss of the warmth your hands provided,

jake opened his eyes, glazed over slightly as he had a dazed look in his gaze, finally calming down from the release that his body was begging for ever since he stepped closer to you today, staring at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes with a dopey smile, he finally connected your lips, larger and rougher hands caressed the side of your face tenderly whilst he bit your lower lip drawing out a gasp from you to allow him to run his tongue along yours,

throughout this heated make-out session you failed to notice jake's movements as by now he had you laying beneath him on the couch, too distracted by the way he was literally taking your breath away, jaeyun's hand sneakily slipped both of your bodies to wrap around your clothed core, cupping your cunt in his palm resulting in you moaning against his mouth while he swallowed all of your pretty noises that had his heart beating in his chest rapidly,

jake's mouth never faltered against yours as he began to softly suckle on your bottom lip while his hand ventured past the waistband of your sweatpants and your panties, running his middle finger along your slit as his lips wrapped around your tongue, "shit baby, you're dripping," his fingers teased your soaking hole while you clenched at his words, "fuck." jaeyun cursed out at the feeling of your slick trailing down his fingers to pool in his palm, "i need to taste you, right now." and before you could protest let alone prepare yourself, jaeyun already had his hands pulling your clothes below your ankle, roughly gripping on your thighs as he wrapped them around his shoulders whilst he lowered his body,

his hot breath fanned against your exposed dripping core, jaeyun softly blew air against your cunt as he felt your body shiver against his stronger hold, chuckling as he finally began his payback, "stop teasing," you breathed out, breaths getting faster and heavier in anticipation at the thought of jake eating you out and going into his familiar state,

obeying your words, jake ran his tongue along your puffed folds, your sweet nectar bursting with flavour on the tip of his tongue, jake sucked a deep breath in through gritted teeth before he began to suckle on your swollen clit, closing his eyes to entirely indulge in you clouding all over his senses, his hands could only feel you, his nose could only smell you, his ears could only hear your sweet, sweet moans as he suckled on your clit like a baby, his mouth could only taste the flavour of you,

jaeyun's finger teased against your entrance, allowing more essence to spill and decorate the couch bellow you, slowly inching his digit in with his head spinning at how tightly your sloppy walls wrapped around his finger, his mouth never faltered against your pulsing clit whilst your hands bought purchase in his hair, gently gripping his soft locks to ground yourself as jake began to eat you out like a starved man,

altering between sucking on your clit entirely to drawing circles around your clit to push you over the edge, your body felt like it was on fire as jake's finger was rubbing and pressing directly against your spongy spot making you arch your back in his hold, each and every one of your moans and whimpers encouraged him to continue, pumping another finger along with his first one to thrust in your velvety walls, jake's ministrations never faltered as your thighs began to shake against his shoulders while your hips jerked up to his mouth,

with your eyes closed, high on pleasure followed by all of your noises sounding like musical melodies for jake's ears, your grip on his hair tightened resulting in jake groaning in pleasure against your cunt, your whimpers rang in his ears as your climax was approaching faster than you could process, with the pulsing of your walls against his digits jake could already tell you were mere seconds away from tipping over the edge, "i'm s-so close, baby." you moaned out, your words riling jaeyun further, detaching his lips from your swollen clit before wrapping his mouth entirely against your cunt, you gasped loudly at the feeling of jake thrusting his tongue completely inside your soaking entrance, the sensation of his lips suckling on your cunt along with his muscle fucking into your sloppy walls was enough to have your body shake as your climax washed over you,

your throat was by now hoarse as only shaky breathes went past your lips at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure, jaeyun's jaw was slack open as he sucked and licked all of what you had to offer, completely pussydrunk as your nectar kept pushing out sweetly onto his tongue, your climax began to softly dissipate with your trembling body slowly calming down yet with jake's mouth still latched on your cunt you couldn't control the shaking of your legs, jaeyun still had his eyes closed as his head was resting against your thigh, mindlessly licking at your folds making you whimper as you pulled his hair gently,

at your grip jaeyun finally opened his lidded eyes to reveal his concerningly intoxicated gaze with his pupils dilated and cheeks flushed, your slick mixed with his own saliva coating his mouth entirely and dripping below his chin, he looked completely gone.

"baby.." you breathed out at his state, seemingly coming back to his senses, he slowly made his way upwards to cover your frame with his, smiling at you drunkenly before his head fell into the crook of your neck, placing one gentle kiss against your skin as he wrapped his arms around you, and before you could ask him anything you were greeted with his quiet snores and soft breathes fanning your neck,

"goodnight, yunnie."

A/N pt2: i died around 6 times while writing this im never writing on a laptop ever again, kinda disappointed in how short and basic this turned out so its like a filler in my mind anywho i promise ill write better jake smut in the future so pls bear w me rn <3

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen imagines #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen drabbles #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfiction #jake x reader #jake sim smut #jake sim x reader #jake hard thoughts #jake sim fanfic #sim jaeyun x reader #sim jaeyun smut #sim jaeyun fic

1K notes · View notes

lovelyhan · 7 months

Note

Okay, you still have a spot. Great. I thought they'd be filled so, I didn't send anything lmao. Insomnia has its perks.

This is deeply self-indulgent and I'd love more Hao from you. So, hear me out, Minghao with a breeding kink. I feel like it doesn't get enough attention especially given how much that man gravitates towards babies lol. Like he and Reader visit Cheol's and see him with his new baby and, Hao's like oh, wait a minute. I think this is making me feel some type of way.

— terrified ⟢

minghao has a knack for keeping the things you tell him in mind. from your favorite brand of wine to how the idea of bearing children terrifies you—he remembers all of it. so your husband is in a bit of a crisis when he realizes that this newfound desire to start a family kind of clashes with something you trusted him to respect.

★ FEATURING; minghao x f!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 4.4k words

★ TAGS; idolverse, established relationship, hao trying (and failing) to play it cool about the wanting-to-be-a-father thing, brief discussion abt family planning, this is only a little sad bc hao has overthinkeritis, smut (MINORS DNI!)

★ WARNINGS; mentions of pregnancy and childbirth but nothing too graphic

★ NOTES; i scheduled to post this when it hit exactly 12 midnight in rj's timezone just in time for her birthday :> (pls look away if i got the schedule wrong,,,) i'm not really back yet bcs this is a queued post, but happy birthday, beloved. i love you more than i can say directly, so i decided to just write a fic for you instead! hopefully, i can come back and torment you with every other seventeen member BUT cheol soon :3c

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, multiple rounds, mating press, hao is just really feral in this yk

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti--red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @dearjeonwonwoo - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin - @98-0603 - @peachhiz

★ MINGHAO TAGLIST; @haoxiaoba - @jeonride - @coffeestay - @hyvnae

In the height of his career as an idol, Xu Minghao filmed a certain piece of content where he was asked a normal question to which he responded with a slightly controversial answer.

"How many kids do you want in the future?"

"Oh, It's not me who'll give birth, so I can't be the one to decide."

It's a response that made waves on the Internet during the week the video was first posted—a reaction from both fans and casual netizens alike that Minghao definitely did not anticipate that he would receive when they packed up the set several months prior.

It's pretty much the logical answer, isn't it? Sure, he'd love to have kids someday, but the quantity isn't something he should decide on without his non-existent partner's input.

Minghao learns further down the road, when he finally meets and eventually gets together with you, that the number of children isn't the only thing that a couple should mutually agree on.

"I don't really want to have kids..."

You tell him this during a spontaneous date he deigned to take you out on. He just came back from a tour packed with a long list of stops and even if he should probably catch up on some sleep, he opted to have a picnic with you at the park because of how much he missed you.

Your cheeks are stuffed with a few bites of pie, thoughtfully chewing as you wait for Minghao's response to your sudden confession. If he didn't know you as well as he does, he wouldn't have sensed the waves of anxiety rolling off of you in waves—as if you're waiting for him to get mad at you for simply being honest.

Mingao heaves a quiet sigh before he pulls you into his chest—a tiny squeak caught in your throat after swallowing your food.

"Hey, that doesn't make me love you any less," he murmurs, pressing his lips on top of your head. "I know bearing children can be terrifying and painful, so I completely understand."

For a moment, your brow dips, a soft frown tugging at your lips. "I-It's not that I'm terrified... Okay, maybe a little. But—"

Minghao promptly silences your protests with a firm kiss on your lips—one that you find yourself easily melting into given the time and distance that's separated you until this moment. He smiles against your mouth, glad that you can be honest with him about things like this.

"No buts, if you don't want to have kids, that's alright," he murmurs before pulling away. "Maybe we can just get a dog. You're already close with Mingyu, aren't you?"

That makes you snicker. "You're so mean."

It's a brief exchange that Minghao doesn't really think about again for several years. After all, his career as an idol was at an all-time high. As much as he wants to settle down with you and start the next phase of his life, he's certain that he shouldn't step out of the limelight just yet.

But it doesn't take long for time to catch up with him.

One by one, his brothers are off to fulfill their mandatory service and the group's activities are at a momentary standstill. Those who were left behind go their separate ways for a while—Joshua expanding his solo promotions in the US and Jun taking up more brand sponsorships in China.

Minghao chose to stay in Seoul mostly for your sake, and the fact that this city is the only common ground between him and the rest of the boys. When Vernon and Seungkwan enlisted together, it was around the time that Seungcheol and Jeonghan came back with overgrown buzzcuts, while Joshua landed in Incheon for the first time in two years.

It was also the time when you and Minghao got married.

The event was celebrated among close friends and family with only a brief news article about the marriage of SEVENTEEN's The8 allowed by the company to circulate for a while. They did a good job at keeping things hush hush, and Minghao thinks it's only because it's been more than a decade since his debut that they're being so lenient.

But even if they weren't, nothing would stop Xu Minghao from making you his wife either way.

It takes a few more years for all thirteen of them to get back together again, but when they do, the first thing that Seungcheol does is invite everybody to his daughter's first birthday.

Minghao has met baby Suri a handful of times in the past. Seungcheol's wife visits them at the company from time to time, wheeling Suri's stroller into the practice room as her uncles all fawn over her until she's crying. For some reason, the only people the infant seems to tolerate are Jun and Seokmin.

It's pretty much the same scene during the party. Seokmin and Jun are the only ones allowed within a one-meter radius from Seungcheol's baby girl to prevent an incurable crying episode in the middle of the celebration. Soonyoung was not happy with the fact that he can't personally give Suri the little tiger plush he got for her, but Minghao thinks it's for the best.

But then, as everyone was finishing up with dinner, he saw you walk up to Seungcheol's wife with a familiar sparkle in your eyes. You're staring at Suri who's all dressed up for her party with a look of endearment—nearly gushing with how animatedly you're speaking with her mother.

Minghao doesn't think much of it. You and her have always gotten along for as long as he can remember.

What does catch him completely off-guard, however, is the fact that Suri is being handed into your arms and you let it all happen without much of a fuss.

Chan was in the middle of telling him about this martial arts move that he'd wanted to choreograph into a dance but as much as he wants to give the younger man advice, his gaze is completely glued to the sight of you with Suri in cradled against your chest.

It's one thing to see a woman holding a baby. It's another to see his wife do the same thing.

"Hao, look!" You quickly call him over when you catch his eyes in the crowd. "Suri thinks I'm worthy! It's been five minutes since her mom handed her over and she's still not crying."

The sight is so adorable that Minghao abruptly excuses himself from his conversation with Chan to rush towards you with clipped strides. His heart thunders inside his chest as you visibly dote on Seungcheol's daughter, and he isn't sure if he wants to give the feeling a name.

It eventually fades into a barely there throb in his chest when he drives back home for the evening. You quickly fill the silence with your attempts at looking at some properties in this newly opened residential area near the freeway and as always, your husband lends a willing ear.

"It's a little far from your company building, but it's much more spacious than our apartment right now," you chuckle, face alight with the glow of your screen as you scroll through the property's details on your phone.

Minghao hums before pulling over at a red light. "Hm? Isn't our place alright as it is? Why would we need the extra space?"

He half-expected you to answer with something along the lines of, so I can have more space to keep my book collection in or so you can have enough room to practice at home if you want to.

But all you do is let out an uneasy laugh, locking your phone before depositing it in the cupholder on the middle console.

"Y-Yeah, you're right. That was a bit silly of me."

The next time Minghao unwittingly makes the connection with you and the prospect of having kids is when Seungkwan's nephews are in Seoul for a couple of weeks.

While he and his sister are off to run errands every now and again, they typically ask Jun to watch over the kids because out of all the members, he's definitely the only one who can be trusted around children. Even more than those who are actual fathers.

But it just so happens that Jun is all the way in Shanghai to shoot for a historical drama, and for some reason, Seungkwan thought it would be a good idea to drop his nephews off at Minghao's doorstep.

"You're pretty decent with kids and your wife can take care of anything," Seungkwan praises while he ushers four year-old Hanjun into the room and eight month-old Jiren into your arms. "We'll be back for them after lunch!"

It's just as Seungkwan said though: Minghao is pretty decent with kids and you can take care of anything.

While waiting for lunch to cook in the kitchen, you both do your part in entertaining the children—Minghao pointing out different shapes and animals in the picture book from Hanjun's backpack while you quietly feed Jiren the baby formula that Seungkwan's sister prepared in advance.

So distracted with the sight of your soft gaze transfixed on the baby in your arms, Minghao barely notices it when the soup he's prepared starts to overflow from the pot. You scold him for being so distracted before he shuffles into the kitchen with his tail between his legs.

As he salvages what's left of the soup, Minghao tries to pull himself together. Sure, it's been a few years since you two tied the knot, but you made it clear years ago that children wasn't on the table when it comes to the two of you.

It's something that you both agreed on even before marriage, and Minghao isn't about to break your trust by saying he suddenly wants kids all because seeing them in your arms makes his brain short-circuit. He has more tact than that.

"Is it just me or are you acting a little weird?"

For some reason, you choose later that evening to corner him in the quiet of your bedroom. Minghao was just getting ready to sleep when you turned to face him with a frown.

"Weird how?" he wonders, praying that you wouldn't single him out like you probably will.

"I don't know, you were looking at me funny when I was giving Jiren his formula," you point out. "You only do that when you want something from me."

Your words make him sigh. Of course his wife would catch onto every nuance of his actions—even from his stare alone.

"And what do you think it is that I want?"

"Xu Minghao, we're already married. Cut the games and just tell me what's on your mind."

God, he really couldn't love you any more than he does now.

It takes several minutes, but you and your husband eventually migrate to the living room—cups of hot chocolate in hand as you patiently wait for Minghao to open up about something he's been keeping to himself for a while now.

He's rightfully nervous—hands clammy around the ceramic of the mug that matches yours. It's Game of Thrones-themed with a dragon's neck acting as a handle. You kept insisting at the souvenir shop that its selling point was the unique design, but Minghao was pretty sure you were excited by the fact that the printed text changes color depending on the drink's temperature.

With that memory suddenly drifting into his mind, the tension ebbs from his shoulders. Though he tends to forget, you're the last person who'll condemn him for what he's about to say to you.

"I've been thinking of starting a family with you," he admits—hitting his point straight to the roots. "But... I always brushed it aside because I know how you feel about kids. I don't want to force you into something you don't want."

It's in times like this where silence is more deafening than actual noise. It rings in Minghao's ears as you watch the steam rise from your mug and your husband lets himself stew in his anticipation, wondering how you'll choose to respond to his honesty.

Will you laugh at him? Will you be angry with him? It's a subject that the two of you rarely broach with each other, so he isn't quite sure how to handle whatever reaction you'll grace him with.

What Minghao never would've expected, however, is for you to crack him a relieved smile.

"Me? I thought you didn't want kids because having one would be detrimental to your career," you chuckle, taking the first few sips from your hot chocolate. "And you always kinda shrugged it off whenever I tried to ease the topic into the conversation."

"I did?" Your husband scowls. "When did I do that?"

"After Suri's birthday party? When I was showing you a couple of new houses?"

Oh. Oh.

"Shit," Minghao mutters, embarrassed. "I almost forgot about that. I'm sorry, love. It didn't occur to me because you said that you didn't want to have kids—"

"One time," you interject with a groan. "That was one time, Hao. God, can't a woman change her mind about wanting kids with her husband?"

He blinks. "But you said you'd be terrified."

"No, you said I'd be terrified. As an educated guess and to some extent, you're right. But it's not the having-a-kid part or the childbirth part that terrifies me, Hao." You let yourself breathe for a couple of seconds and it comes out shaky. Minghao has to resist the urge to reach out to embrace you.

"What terrifies me is becoming a mother."

The silence of the living room thickens when you say the words and Minghao feels his chest flutter with that same feeling from the first time he saw you cradling Seungcheol's daughter in your arms. Despite the questions swimming inside his head, your husband keeps his silence and lets you continue.

"Like, yeah, the pregnancy is going to be hell and god knows whether I'll even be alive after giving birth, but..." You hesitate, refusing to meet Minghao's eyes for reasons that elude him.

"Raising a child so they would grow up to become a good person is even more daunting to me... What if I accidentally teach them something wrong? What if they end up hating me because I can't keep up with whatever trends kids would come up with in a few years? What if they love you more than they love me?"

Minghao laughs airily. "Is that last part really a necessary measure?"

"It is," you insist before breathing out a laugh of your own. "Urgh, you get the point! It's just that... I'm not against having kids, but the responsibility that comes with raising one overwhelms me whenever I think about it."

"You know you're not in it alone, right? I'm your husband. Of course I'll be here to support you however I can," Minghao sighs before finishing the rest of his drink. "Whether you want kids or not, I'll go with either choice because I want what you want, yeah?"

"Yeah. I do know that. I think I've always known, but at the same time, I didn't want to tie you down," you murmur, tracing the handle of your mug with a small pout. "If we have a kid together, they might take up the time meant for your schedules. I never want to burden you like that..."

Your husband sets down his mug on the coffee table, carding his fingers through his hair with a disbelieving sigh. You were starting to fear that you might've annoyed him by accident, but when Minghao leans closer so that your eyes are leveled, you realize that is far from the case.

"Baby, our wedding rings are literally tattoos," he reminds you while reaching for your hand—pressing the inked fingers together. "I'm as tied down as I can be and you've never heard a peep out of me after all this time, yeah? So don't you ever think you or our future kids would be burdens to me."

Playfully, you raise an eyebrow at him. "Kids? Plural?"

"Hey, like I said—"

"Yeah, yeah, you want what I want," you interrupt with a roll of your eyes. "I get it Hao, you're a gentleman. But what if I told you I want you to fuck me on this couch right now and give me your kids?"

The wording is so crass that it could only be seen as a joke, except the reaction it incites from Minghao is leagues more intense than a mere joke would. The mental image injects a rush of corrosive want straight into his bloodstream and Minghao swears it makes him a little lightheaded.

Your husband lets out a shuddering sigh. quickly lunging after you to pluck the mug out of your grasp and safely place it on top of the coffee table. When you look up at him so prettily as he cages you on the couch, the sight makes his cock twitch with anticipation.

"Then I want that, too."

Logically speaking, you and Minghao can't just flip the switch and go into full babymaking mode after a heartfelt conversation and a bunch of impulsive decisions.

For one, you were still on birth control. It would take some time to wean yourself off it and you'd have to ask your doctor if it was safe to stop taking the pills at this point in your life.

Next was that Minghao and the rest of the guys are going to be preoccupied with their latest album—one where all thirteen men are back together after years of being separated. It'll go on for a couple of months and maybe a year if he's going to take their tour schedules into account.

And because he doesn't want to be absent in any milestone during your hypothesized child's life, you and your husband mutually decided not to actively try for a kid just yet.

But that doesn't mean you can't pretend.

"Fuck, baby, your cunt's gripping me so tight," Minghao groans, nearly hissing as he slides his cock against the velvety heat of your walls. "You want my load in you, pretty? You want to me to pump you full until it's dripping out of your pretty pussy?"

With coherence having long left your mind, you arch your back even higher as your husband continues to plough you into the mattress. "Y-Yes, yes yes! Hao, feels s-so fucking good!"

He chortles quietly and even with your cheek pressed against the sheets, you can still picture the smirk plastered on his face. "Pretty baby's in love with my cock. You just can't get enough of me, can you?"

"More," you whimper, the muscles of your pussy tightening around his length as he plunges in and out of your sopping entrance. "W-Want more, Hao. Need you to fuck me harder..."

Your husband is quick to comply with your wishes, gathering your hair with one hand while keeping your hips in place with the other. Minghao slams his hips brutally against yours, making stars dance in the seams of your vision as the head of his fat cock bullies its way into your leaking hole.

He's so deep, you can feel him prying your cervix open with a promise that you'll be filled to the brim if you behave tonight. And with all those years of being a professional dancer under his belt, it's no surprise that he's got enough stamina to wreck you more times than you can handle.

The first orgasm blindsides you completely. He'd just been whispering both sweet and filthy nothings into your ear when it washes over you like a tidal wave—inevitable, inescapable.

(Doing so fucking good for me, love. Taking my cock like a good, good wife. You'll take my cum just as well, won't you? Keep it inside so it'll take and you'll be swollen with my child. Then everybody will know you're mine.)

The second time it happens is mere seconds after Minghao's own orgasm. His thrusts have started to lose their practiced cadence and even if you've been in this situation countless times before, the euphoria that sings in your veins makes it feel like the first time all over again.

Minghao's cock twitches before his cum spurts in thick ropes inside your tight cunt—filling you with a warm sensation that has you biting down his neck to stifle your moans. The motion of his hips slows to a crawl as Minghao feels you clamp down on his length. Your pussy gushes around him with a delicious grip that brings him dangerously close to another orgasm with how good you feel around him.

"Fuck, baby," he swears, voice still hoarse with need despite the fact that he's fucking you into overflowing. "I love you. There's no one else I'd want to have a family with."

"T-There better not be," you say cheekily before Minghao is flipping you around so that you're lying on your back. The sensation of his cum dripping out of your ruined pussy makes your skin tingle with excitement, and the fact that his ravenous gaze is trained on your body isn't lost on you.

"Be a good wife for me and hold your thighs up," he whispers lowly and it takes you mere seconds to comply. "That's my girl."

You preen at his praise—no matter how pathetic it would make you seem. After all, if there's anyone who get reduced you into a cockdrunk mess, it's most certainly your husband.

Minghao doesn't waste any more time, he pumps his cock into full hardness for a few moments—refractory period be damned—before gliding the head of his cock against your slit. Your thighs twitch every time be brushes against your clit, making you cry out with desperation as he gloats at your misery.

"Minghao," you beg, trying your best to hold your thighs up just like he asked all while he's taking his sweet time admiring your pussy. "Fuck me more. Want you to fill me up even more."

"Needy little thing," he chuckles. "You want my kids that badly? If I fuck you too much, you might actually get pregnant, love."

"Don't care," you practically sob. "I want it. I want you. All of you—even your kids."

Fuck. He really, really fucking loves you.

Minghao needs little encouragement after that, gripping his cock tightly as he guides himself back inside you.

The new position makes it easier for your husband to pound into you—the weight of his thrusts pressing you into the bed with enough intensity to make the wooden enforcements of your bed groan from the effort he's exerting. He splits you open on his cock, spreading your folded thighs as far as he can as he drills inside of you with the promise of another load.

"So pretty and pliant for me," he whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your nose all while the squelch of your cunt with each pass of his cock echoes in the bedroom. "My perfect wife. You'll let me breed this pussy once all's said and done, won't you?"

You nod all too eagerly. "Yes, Hao! I'll let you use my pussy however you want. Just please make me come again!"

"So demanding," your husband sighs with a wicked smile as one of his hands trails between your legs. "Hold those thighs nice and open for me, love. You'll feel even better soon."

"W-Wait, I—"

Your protests quickly melt into a hiss of pleasure when Minghao applies ample pressure on your clit—lathering his fingers with your slick before tracing tight circles around the sensitive nub.

He knows you so well, been with you for so long, that Minghao already knows the ins and outs of your body. Your husband claims that making you come undone with his own fingers is a practiced art and that he'll never forget about it until the day he does.

So it's no surprise how quickly Minghao manages to make you unravel at the seams when he couples his intense thrusts with the added stimulus to your clit. You're creaming around his cock in no time—muffling your cries in the crook of your lover's neck as he fucks into you with the intention of filling you up even more.

"I love you," Minghao rasps as he tucks your head beneath his chin, pinpointing the height of his own pleasure. "I'll want no one else but you, baby. No one."

Shakily, through a haze of delirium, you manage to say, "I-I love you too, Hao. I'll always be yours as long as—f-fuck—you'll always be mine."

You twitch violently beneath the weight of Minghao's body and the sight of you so fucked dumb on his cock eventually pushes him over the edge. Your husband comes with a sharp breath, his white hot cum gushing into your pussy until it drips onto the sheets.

It's only when you've come down from that post-coital high that you realize Minghao is looking at you as if you hung up all the stars in the sky. You respond with a weak smack against his chest.

"Don't look at me like that," you grumble weakly. "I might think you're in love with me."

"Y/N, we're already married."

"I don't see how that's a problem."

As Minghao does the honors of cleaning you up after roughing you up all evening, you quickly realize that, really, there's no reason to be terrified at all.

Not when your husband will be by your side every step of the way.

⟢ end notes: i wrote this in a haze so if there are any technical writing errors, i implore you to just ignore them for my sake <3 happy birthday again to my soulmate, rj! i hope you enjoy your day to the fullest and i also hope you like this gift i wrote for you hehe ^\\\^ like hao to the reader, i'll always be w you every step of the way (i'm just a lil busy rn, so i hope you forgive me !!)

#seventeen smut #the8 smut #minghao smut #svthub #minghao x reader #seventeen fanfic #the8 x reader #full length fic 📚#lovelyhan #💭 request #💘 mutuals #rj 🍷#q: i always need queue 🐇

2K notes · View notes

bruh-changbin · 6 months

Text

think pink

pairing: pink power ranger!hyunjin x afab reader

genre: smut, stupidity (minors dni)

warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), public sex kinda?, unprotected sex (be safe), creampie, tit sucking, alcohol consumption, very brief mention of female masturbation

word count: 8.2K

a/n: IM AT A CONCERT DRESSED AS SLUTTY LIGHTNING MCQUEEN RN WOOHOOOOOOO (this is a queued post). happy horny halloween mofos! very glad to be posting this fc bc i was supposed to post it last year and then just gave up LMAO so she's been a long time comin. pls give her some love i would really appreciate it!!! hope you all have/had a super safe sexy halloween!

october is overrated.

i mean sure, there is something undeniably cozy and heart-warming about crunchy leaves and pumpkin patches and all of the other shit that comes in the ‘fall aesthetic’ package. but the truth is that october is too windy, halloween is overhyped, and pumpkin spice tastes like ass.

and who wants to go to a halloween party where you can’t dress like a slut because of the wind chill? no one.

“you’re too negative.” jeongin sips his starbucks while keeping his eyes trained on the road, his left hand gripping the steering wheel of his beat up silver volkswagen jetta that he calls his baby, his pride and joy.

“i’m just telling it like it is,” you shift in the passenger seat to face him, “there is no need for so much hype around a mediocre holiday. what’s there to enjoy about getting violently drunk and stuffing your face with so much candy you feel sick?”

“listen y/n, i don’t know what your problem is but halloween is fun.” he appears to stop there, but then keeps going, “and i will not have your sour attitude ruin my favourite holiday.”

you just scoff and gaze out the window at all of the trees now bursting with shades of red, orange, yellow.

as if sensing something was off from your previous conversation, jeongin breaks the silence “you’re still coming to jackson’s party though, right? i don’t wanna go alone…”

“you won’t be alone,” you counter, “seungmin will be there.”

jeongin groans, “but seungmin’s so boring at parties. all he does is complain about how bad alcohol tastes and try to talk to people about books and films. i don’t trust a bitch that says films instead of movies! they always think they’re better than everyone.”

“that’s not true, seungmin’s fun at parties!” albeit you do admit you’ve only been to one party with seungmin where he went buck wild and were later told that that is very uncharacteristic of him.

jeongin’s expression turns sour, and you start to take pity on him.

“innie, i promised you i’d go to this party. when have i ever broken a promise? i’ll be there, alright?”

with that his face softens, and he goes back to his regular chatty self.

“knowing jackson it’s gonna be even bigger and better than last year. and you know y/n, i’m pretty sure hyunjin’s going as well.”

your heart drops to your stomach at the mention of his name.

you try to act as nonchalant as possible, “why would i care if hyunjin’s there or not?”

“because you’re in love with him.”

“i am not in love with him.”

jeongin scoffs, “please, i see those googly eyes you make every time you see him - scratch that, everytime his name is mentioned. and you sucked his dick.”

“oh so the second you put a guys dick in your mouth you instantaneously fall in love with him?”

“okay fine! maybe you don’t love him but there’s something there, no denying it,” he pauses, and then adds, “and i for one think it’s something worth pursuing.”

leaning your face against the passenger side window, you sigh contemplatively, “that ship has sailed, my friend. at this point hyunjin probably doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“i don’t know y/n, he still seems a little…. hung up on you,” jeongin attempts to reason with you, “why don’t you try talking to him?”

“what the fuck would i even say to him? hey hyunjin, everytime i think of you i get really really wet. could you please bend me over the nearest hard surface and fuck me so hard i can’t walk for a week???!!!!”

“so vulgar and for what.”

you roll your eyes, “shut up jeongin. if you want me to get with him so badly, maybe… i don’t know, help?”

“no way. you two are adults, you can sort it out yourself.”

“gee, what would i do without you and your incessant outpour of advice jeongin?” you tease, since jeongin is inherently quite awful at offering meaningful advice.

“i give good advice!!! you just never take it,” your best friend scowls as he drives through campus, pulling into a parking lot located in the midst of all of your school's buildings.

“sure innie, whatever makes you feel better,” you grab your tote bag off of the floor of the passenger seat and step out of jeongin’s car. as soon as you’re outside a brisk gust of wind engulfs you, the chill making its way through your sweater and making you shudder; you should’ve worn a thicker jacket.

jeongin does the same as you, slamming the driver door shut before grabbing his own stuff from the backseat.

“i’ll see you in a couple hours, kay? text me when your class is done,” he states before heading off towards to library, his broad shoulders protected from the frigid fall weather with a thick wool sweater and a puffy black scarf. the heels of his boots scuff the pavement as he trudges away, pulling out his headphones as he prepares for a couple hours of studying.

you make out in the opposite direction of your friend, heading towards the building where your lecture hall is located. all around you students are dressed in jackets and thick sweaters, scarves donning their necks and leg warmers wrapped around their ankles. the grey sky makes everything appear dull, spare for the bright coloured leaves that have been blown off the trees and crunch under the weight of your boots when you step on them.

soon you make it to your lecture hall, revelling in the warmth of being inside as you slowly close the doors behind you and making your way over to your (un)official seat. ever since the amount of people attending lecture every week started to decrease, you staked your claim on a seat in your favourite section of the room and refuse to sit elsewhere.

after a couple minutes of waiting your prof begins class, delving into lecture without a hitch as you attempt to scribble down notes. however, just as you’re about to get into the meat of today's class, your focus is broken when a late-comer yanks open the doors to the room with full force.

in walks hwang hyunjin, and a small part of you dies inside.

as the metal door swings shut behind him with a dramatic bang! you lock eyes with him just for a second before his gaze is averted to your professor who he gives a small, apologetic smile to.

in your head you’re screaming don’t you fucking dare hwang hyunjin as he walks closer and closer and closer to where you’re sitting in the sparsely populated lecture hall. you roll your eyes so hard your head hurts when hyunjin chooses the seat almost directly in front of you (just a little off to the side so it looks like it was a total accident - fuck you hwang).

of course you knew that hyunjin was in this class as well, but he’s usually on time and usually sits far away from you, at the back of the lecture hall. today he just feels like being an asshole, i guess.

hyunjin’s weird. he’s weird because he had the hots for you during the sweltering summer months, when jeongin rented a beachside airbnb for a week and invited all of his close friends - including you and hyunjin. he’s weird because he always applied sunscreen on your back and helped you cut up watermelon and sat beside you during bonfires. he’s weird because when everyone else left to go to the pier he encouraged you to stay back and yanked on your hair while you sucked his dick, bit your bottom lip with his front teeth, and fucked you so hard you saw stars.

he’s weird because he now pretends that the two of you have no history and fucks with you on purpose by shooting you flirty looks when he sees you at get togethers or on campus but does nothing more than that. he knows that you think about him, but does he think about you too?

staring at the back of his ebony-haired head, you can’t shake the image of hyunjin on top of you, his puffy bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he fucked you into his mattress, out of your head. the needy whines and groans he emitted when his cock was down your throat are ringing in your ears; you cross your legs under your desk in a pathetic attempt to ease the ache you feel in your cunt that you hate yourself for. come on brain, we cannot be horny during lecture! focus!!!

the next few hours drag on and on and on as you force yourself to keep your vision trained on either your notebook or your prof, resisting the urge to allow yourself to gaze upon the man who occupies your thoughts almost 24/7 (which is so not feminist of you btw).

ergo, when your prof finishes lecture 20 minutes early, you heave a sigh of relief. great, now you can gtfo and go finger yourself in the bathroom before getting jeongin to drive you home. but of course, a certain someone decides to ruin your plans by turning around and leaning against your desk, his dark chocolate eyes staring down at you mischievously.

“are you coming to jackson’s party?”

is he talking to you?

“are you talking to me?”

hyunjin looks around while the few other students surrounding the two of you scramble to pack their bags, “i mean, who else would i be talking to.”

“i don’t know,” you shrug, “anyone but me i guess.”

god this is so awkward. gag me with a spoon.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“hmm?” you pretend to busy yourself with the task of shoving your pencil case into your near empty school bag.

“jackson’s party? you coming? jeongin said you were.”

of course he fucking did. because jeongin just loves stirring the pot.

“oh, uh yeah. i’ll be there.”

“what are you going to dress up as?” hyunjin clearly does not see how much you want to end this conversation - or maybe he does, and he just likes seeing you squirm. bitch.

“i don’t know yet.”

“the party’s tomorrow… and you still don’t know what you’re gonna be?”

“nope.”

“oh.”

hyunjin’s lips curl into a subtle smirk and you know he’s just dying for you to ask him the same thing, so you do.

“what are you dressing up as, hwang?”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he swings his backpack over one shoulder, “i guess you’ll just have to find out.”

and with that, he leaves you alone in the lecture hall with your professor, your half-packed bag, and your soaked panties.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･˙

back in jeongin’s jetta as he gives you a ride home, you complain about hyunjin.

“he’s fucking with me on purpose, i just know it. god! he’s such a…. just like a little…. WEASEL! he’s a fucking weasel.”

“come on y/n, he’s not that bad,” jeongin sticks up for hyunjin, who is also his friend, mind you.

all you do is wave him off, “you don’t know how it feels to be played by a man that beautiful, innie.”

jeongin throws in the towel, and the two of you drive along the paved roads of your town in silence. as you continue to move along you soon find

“that forest still gives me the creeps.”

”come on, you seriously still don’t believe in all of that ‘lost john’ bullshit, do you?”

lost john’s forest is somewhat of a fable in your town; folklore, if you will. for ages people have been passing around this story about how a tourist named john who was exploring the town wandered into that forest one day to never be seen again. there are some variations, of course. some people say that they’ve seen john out and about, or that john was actually a cult leader and if you go into the woods you’re bound to get sacrificed. no one knows if john actually ever existed, or if the story is just all horseshit used as a cautionary tale to keep kids out of the forest at night.

doesn’t make it any less creepy though.

you huff as you stare at the endless sea of trees you’re driving past, “it’s not that i actually believe in it, it’s just that those stories come from somewhere, you know?”

jeongin doesn’t seem to understand the point you’re trying to get across, “...so?”

“so there’s gotta be at least some truth to them, right? or else where did they come from?”

“i don’t know y/n, i think it’s all made up to scare kids.”

the two of you sit in silence for a moment as you pass the last stretch of lost john’s forest before being surrounded by houses, apartment complexes and coffee shops once again.

“hey, do you know what costume hyunjin’s wearing to the party?”

as soon as the question passes your lips you regret it, and your regret increases tenfold when a devilish smirk makes its way onto jeongins face.

“oh! i thought you’d gotten over hyunjin, but here you are asking what he’s dressing up as for halloween. interesting!”

“oh my god jeongin shut the fuck up!! it’s not like that, he was just being a twat when i asked him about it in lecture today,” you huff in annoyance over your friends antics. and for the record you’ve never said that you were over hyunjin, just that you aren’t in love with him.

“sure y/n, whatever you need to tell yourself,” jeongin laughs, clearly thinking that he’s won this little scuffle, “you need to figure out a costume though.”

“ugh i know.” you scratch your head tentatively, “what are you going as?”

“a banana”

you can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips. is he for real?

“what’s so funny?” jeongin questions, his brow quirked.

“really? a fucking banana?”

“what’s wrong with that?”

“it’s a dumb costume, that’s what’s wrong.”

“it’s not dumb y/n, you just have no taste.”

“oh i have plenty of taste - that’s how i can tell your costume is bad.”

“it’s not bad it’s just- why are you being such a bitch right now?”

“did you just call me a bitch??!”

“yes i did because you’re being one!!”

“okay well SORRY for telling you that your costume is STUPID!!!”

“oh yeah? well in that case good luck finding a way to jackson’s party because I’M NOT TAKING YOU ANYMORE!!!”

“FINE!”

“FINE!!”

“FUCK YOU JEONGIN!!”

“FUCK YOU Y/N!!!!!”

in a fit of blind rage you grab your bag and shove you way out of jeongin’s car, a gust of wind ruffling your clothes as he speeds off as soon as you slam the door behind you. he is totally in the wrong here. you were just being a good friend, looking out for him by telling him that he’s setting himself up to look like a total idiot.

a squeal sounds behind you as jeongin floors it away from your house, the smell of burning rubber lingering around where his car was moments ago. what an aquarius you think to yourself as you head into your house, tossing your bag to the floor with a thump as soon as you’re inside. whatever, fuck jeongin! you’ll show him that you can have fun without him.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･˙

“okay, what about this one?”

seungmin is in your bedroom for the first time ever.

which is weird, since the two of you have been friends for some time now. but hey, he’s here now eating chocolate covered pretzels while perched on the corner of your bed helping you pick out a costume for jackson’s halloween party.

“it’s cute.”

“... just cute? anything else?”

“i don’t know, you look… nice?”

you heave a sigh of frustration, “you know seungmin you really suck at this.”

he raises his hands in defence, “sorry! i’ve never done this before, you’re my only female friend.”

“yea yea whatever,” you command him to stop speaking with a wave of your hand, eyes flitting back and forth between the two costume options you’ve spread out on your floor and the one currently donning your body.

“so the final contenders are olive from easy a, slutty michael myers, and…” you look down at your legs, which are clad in the same black latex stockings you wore for halloween last year, “a sexy nun.”

seungmin shakes his head, “don’t do the last one, that’s blasphemous.”

“okay… sexy nun is out. i’m thinking easy a, you?”

seungmin ponders for a moment, his eyes squinted as he gazes at both the easy a and slutty mike myers costumes splayed across your carpeted floor.

“i second that, your boobs will look killer in a corset,” he eventually attests before shoving a couple more chocolate covered pretzels in his mouth.

you playfully smack his shoulder, “see min! you are good at choosing outfits.”

he just smirks in response before dusting the pretzel crumbs on his fingers off on his pants. with your arms full of discarded garments you head over to your closet, putting the clothing items of the unchosen costumes back in their place.

“hey can i ask you a question?” seungmin quips from your bed, where he’s now made himself comfortable by lying down and scrolling through twitter.

“shoot,” you say while hanging up your navy blue jumpsuit.

seungmin pauses his scrolling to ask, “how come you didn’t ask jeongin to help you with this? i mean, not that i don’t like helping you or anything, but you guys are like always together.”

ugh. jeongin. just hearing his name makes you

“we got into an argument,” you explain, opting to foresee the fact that said argument was over a fucking halloween costume, “he’s being petty, and i don’t want anything to do with him at the moment. and he keeps getting ”

seungmins brows raise momentarily before he responds, “it seems to me that both of you are being petty. also what happened with hyunjin?”

shit. you totally forgot seungmin isn’t caught up on everything that’s gone down. it’s his fault in all honesty, always opting to stay home instead of hanging out.

“uhhh it’s nothing,” you decide now isn’t the best time to get into everything, “but hey, you’re supposed to be on my side here!”

“i am!!! but why don’t we forget about your drama and watch….. coraline. capisce?”

coraline does sound nice, so you tug on your pyjama pants and join seungmin on your bed to indulge in a fitting movie.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･˙

today is halloween.

today is halloween and you’re dreading it.

seungmin slept over last night and the two of you have been lounging around all day in preparation for tonight, which you are not looking forward to, what with both hyunjin and jeongin being there.

neither you nor jeongin have reached out to the other, both too stupid to be the first one to text the other and apologise. whatever, he’s the one who was up your ass about coming to this party, you’re gonna prove that you don’t have to follow him around like a lost dog at every function.

when it comes time to get ready you blast deftones and the twilight soundtrack (much to seungmins dismay) while painting your face. when it comes time to get into your outfit you recruit seungmin to help, making him stand behind you and yank the ties on your lacy black corset. with each tug you can feel the boning hug your ribs and stomach tighter and tighter before the mere action of breathing is uncomfortable.

it’s just for a couple hours you remind yourself while pulling on your black mini skirt and grabbing a pair of black sunnies from your vanity. the glossy scarlet red ‘a’ that you hand stitched onto the left breast of your corset last night glints in the mirror as you examine yourself, perfectly content with the costume you managed to pull off in less than 24 hours.

“holy shit, how can you breathe in that thing?” seungmin says as he stares at you from the same place on your bed, seemingly taken aback by the resilience of your rib cage.

“it’s for fashion, min! this halloween is all about reprisal, and i wanna look damn good while doing it.”

“okay shakespeare,” he jests before grabbing his costume from where it’s laying on the floor. it takes him a mere minute to throw on his outfit, and you envy him for it.

once you’re finally sure that you’re ready you toss a few tequila shots back in your kitchen as seungmin watches, stating he doesn’t wanna get fucked up tonight (when does he ever) but relents when you ask him to do at least one shot to keep him warm on the walk over to jackson’s.

the bite of the night autumn air has you questioning if you even want to go when you step out onto your porch, the leather jacket you borrowed from seungmin hanging from your shivering shoulders. no, you can’t back down now. with a skip in your step you all but drag seungmin off of your porch, those tequila shots slowly but surely making their way through your system.

by now many of the trick or treaters that lined the streets earlier in the evening have retired to bed, leaving the rest of the holiday to be celebrated by the mature population. so, the roads are mainly empty as you walk down them, the pavement damp and shiny.

when you arrive at jackson’s place you take pity on his neighbours, for the music is so loud it seems as if it might trigger a small earthquake. a few scattered groups of people are on the lawn but most are inside, and you can see the party raging through the front windows. seungmin doesn’t say anything, just shoots you a knowing look before the two of you make your way inside.

immediately upon entering you’re almost ploughed over by a guy in one of those blow up t-rex costumes, who barely spares a look at you before running away and continuing to wreak havoc.

“i don’t think I’m drunk enough for this min, we should just go,” you turn to leave but to your surprise are stopped by seungmin.

“come on y/n, we’re already here. let’s just stay for a bit, ok?” he reasons, and you relent with a dramatic sigh.

out of the corner of your eye you catch of glimpse of someone waving to you; actually, waving to seungmin, motioning him to head over there. you see 3 guys, one in a red power ranger suit, another in a green and yet another in a pink. the puzzle in your brain slowly pieces together as you glance down at seungmins blue power ranger suit.

don’t tell me….

the 3 guys pull off their masks at the same time, and you’re met with the grinning faces of jeongin (red), hyunjin (pink), and their friend jisung (green). and just to add more salt on the wound, a boy name felix whom you’ve meet a handful of times shows up with his friends dressed in a yellow ranger suit. stupid! you should’ve know seungmin was a part of a group costume, who would dress up as a solo power ranger?

“why didn’t you tell me that you were doing a stupid group costume with jeongin and hyunjin!” you sock seungmin in the shoulder.

“i didn’t think it mattered!” he whines while rubbing the spot where you punched him.

“well it does, because now we have to spend the whole night with them,” you whine, although what you said isn’t necessarily true. you’re just salty because seungmin is supposed to be on your side in this whole debacle, and because jeongin decided to change his costume after your quarrel in his car the other day.

much to your dismay, seungmin wraps his bony fingers around your wrist and drags you towards the group of his friends, towards your doom. as soon and jeongin realizes you’re headed this way he departs, running up the stairs like the coward he is.

“seungmin! you made it!” jisung exclaims, clearly already a couple drinks in and clearly unable to sense the tension between you and everyone else.

“haha, yep!” seungmin answers sheepishly as you wrench your wrist free from his grasp. traitor!

you sulk as you listen to felix, seungmin and jisung talk about god knows what, probably video games or baseball or something stupid. it doesn’t help that you can overhear parts of hyunjins conversation with the girl that felix brought. thankfully, you’re blessed with the gift of being able to tune everything out if you so chose, so you stand there in silence and dream about going home.

it isn’t long until you can sense a looming presence beside you, and you snap out of your stupor to see hyunjin standing only a few feet away from you. the way his eyes scan the expanse of your body doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“so,” he starts, arms widespread in a clear gesture to his costume, “what do you think?”

“geez, and people say girls dress like sluts. you know i can see your whole dick print, right?” you taunt,

“nothing you haven’t seen before,” he sneers while his eyes scan the length of your body, hyper focusing on the red ‘a’ sewn into your corset, “what…. what are you?”

how uncultured!

“olive from easy a. you know, emma stone’s character?” you state matter of factly, arms folded across your chest.

“never seen it.”

“really?” you ask, genuinely shocked since hyunjin seems to love fun cult classics. and because he’s friends with seungmin, who's seen about every movie under the sun.

“really,” he reaches over and picks up his drink from where he left it on the counter, “off topic, but a couple people about to play truth or dare in one of the bedrooms upstairs, you should come. or don’t, i don’t care.”

and with that the boy dressed as the pink ranger turns on his heel and walks away, patting whoever was dressed in the yellow ranger costume on the back as a signal to hit the road.

truth or dare? for real? didn’t realise this was a high school party.

you make your way over to seungmin, who’s busy playing with the pop tab attached to the lid of his mikes hard lemonade. it’s clear he doesn’t really plan on talking to anyone else all night, and is only here because you dragged him and he had a duty to fulfil as a result of being part of a group costume.

“they’re about to play truth or dare upstairs min, can you believe that?” you scoff, feeling your cheeks warm up as a result of the alcohol you’ve consumed.

seungmin makes a noise of agreeance, his lip quirking upwards as he responds, “for real? that game is just so…. childish.”

both of you nod before looking at the floor, you drawing small circles with your feet and seungmin playing with his pop tab again.

“but it is kinda fun, you know?” seungmin speaks up first.

“no you’re right,” silence again, and then you add, “should we go join?”

all seungmin does is nod and pass you your drink before the two of you make your way upstairs, opening to the door to a bathroom and accidentally interrupting some kind of fuck session before finding the correct bedroom and slinking inside.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･˙

a messy circle of people meets you when you enter, with everyone sitting on the floor or bed or chairs that were definitely stolen from the dining room. there aren't a ton of people, maybe 13 or so, but you seem to know everyone at least to a certain extent.

“nice costume, y/n,” jeongin practically emerges form the shadows to sneer at you, his voice laced with poison.

“thanks jeongin, it is a nice costume. what happened to you going as a banana? did you heed my advice and finally realise it was a stupid idea?”

all he does is scoff at this, choosing not to retort for the sake of looking like the bigger person.

“jeez, you guys are really pissed at each other, huh?” seungmin remarks while grabbing your wrist and dragging you away from jeongin in case you were about to reach up and slap him.

you don’t respond, but the sour look on your face says it all.

“alright guys, let’s get this started!” hyunjin announces to the room full of people, and all of the individual chatter dies down, “the game is truth or dare, as you all know, but we wanted to make it extra frightening for halloween. jeongin?”

jeongin stalks over to hyunjin, and you’re worried for what he has planned.

“if you do not fulfil your truth or dare, you will face a penalty. that penalty is doing a shot,” he takes a breath, “and showing the entire circle the last nude you sent.”

chaos. everyone erupts in anger at jeongin’s sick idea of a punishment.

“come on jeongin, that is so over the top,” one of the other girls in the room, chaeryeong, shouts above everyone else.

all jeongin does is raise his arms in a shrug, clearly loving playing the villain. ugh, you’re so over him.

“rules are rules you guys! we want to make sure people are following through on their dares! or truths, of course.”

he does have a point there, but still, his rules are a bit excessive.

the room quiets down and a few people decide to get up and leave, opting to not take the risk of exposing themselves if they get stuck with a particularly damning truth or dare.

“great, lets get this show on the road then,” jeongin acts as the ringleader and gets everyone settled, “who wants to go first?”

“me! i wanna go!” jeongins friend felix, the yellow ranger, throws his hand in the air.

“ok felix, truth or dare?”

the rest of the party can be heard as the room falls silent to let felix think, allowing him time to ponder since he was the first to volunteer.

“i’ll go dare,” he finally announces, and a chorus of ooooo’s sound as everyone waits to hear what felix has in store for him.

“i dare you,” jeongin ponders, trying to come up with something juicy and exciting, “to give us your best strip tease!”

everyone shrieks and felix hangs his head in embarrassment before standing up, clearly not backing down from the challenge. someone turns on pony by ginuwine and everyone shrieks even louder as felix starts doing his best strip tease, filled with body rolls and thigh grabbing as he peels the top part of his yellow power ranger costume off, exposing his defined abs and smooth back in the process.

after a couple minutes everyone agrees that he’s done enough and he pulls his costume back one before plopping back down in his seat, his cheeks and ears a bright cherry red. nevertheless, a triumphant smile is plastered on his face as everyone cheers for him having successfully completed the first dare.

the game continues without a hitch; chaeryeong confesses that her first wet dream was about hiccup from how to train your dragon, seungmin has to do a blowjob shot from between felix’s legs (you almost thought he was going to accept the penalty), and you find out that the weirdest place jisung has had sex was in a mcdonald’s bathroom.

suddenly jeongin locks eyes with you and you, knowing that he’s probably had one too many drinks at this point, feel a sense of dread settle in the pit of your stomach.

“y/n! your turn, truth or dare.”

you know that whatever you choose it’s gonna be bad, so you opt to bite the bullet and just go for it.

“uhhhhhh ok, dare.”

in that moment it looks as if jeongin has quite literally embodied the devil himself and you know that you’ve chosen wrong. all you can do is brace yourself for whatever dare he’s about to challenge you to - which you’ll have to fulfill for the sake of not looking like a loser.

“i dare you,” he smiles, “to spend 10 minutes exploring lost john’s forest.”

the room goes silent.

no fucking way. does he want you to die???!!

seungmin comes to your rescue, “come on jeongin, that's a little too intense for a game, don’t you think?”

“a dare is a dare! if y/n doesn’t want to do it she’ll just have to face the penalty instead.”

everyone continues to look around the room tentatively, waiting to see what happens next. most gazes are fixed on you, eyes with with worry and excitement, but some stare at jeongin.

“come on, do you guys seriously still believe in all of those bullshit urban legends? that stuff is just for kids, we’re all adults now!” jeongin speaks up and sips his beer as if to further prove his point.

“regardless of if those rumours are true or not, don’t you think it’s unsafe for y/n to be out in a forest this late at night? you know, alone?” this comes from hyunjin, and you’re surprised he’s sticking up for you.

only after hyunjin’s comment do you see jeongin’s tough guy facade start to waver, but he holds his ground, “y/n’s a big girl, she can speak for herself.”

suddenly everyone’s gaze is on you. dear god, why on earth did you come to this party??

“you know what, fine. fiiiine!!!! i’ll do it,” you declare as you stand up, adjusting your skirt that had shifted in place while you were seated. jeongin’s face deadpans, and that alone is enough to give you the courage

“wait, how will we know if she actually goes to lost john’s forest though? what if she just waits outside and then comes back in 10 minutes later?” jisung quips, and you’re tempted to reach out and slap him across the face. bitch.

“that’s a good point,” jeongin pauses to think, “ok fine, someone should go with her to make sur-”

“i’ll go,” hyunjin volunteers before standing up a little too quickly, which is evident in the way he wobbles slightly before catching his balance.

jeongin’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull at this; it’s clear he wants you to have the worst night ever, meaning being alone in a forest with a guy you have the hots for is strictly off the table “wait no, someone else should go.”

“why? i’m fully capable of escorting y/n to and from lost john’s to make sure nothing bad happens. besides, does anyone else want to volunteer as an escort?” hyunjin retorts before waiting expectantly.

the circle of people sit there, unmoving. after a few seconds seungmin slowly moves to raise his hand but a dirty scowl from hyunjin makes him freeze.

“right then, it’s settled. let’s go y/n” he states while grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the door of the bedroom you’re in.

you look back at jeongin over your shoulder, who clearly isn’t pleased. all you do is shoot him a cheeky half smile before following hyunjin out the room, down the stairs and into the night.

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･

standing at the edge of lost johns forest, you think you might pass out.

but you neglect to tell hyunjin that.

“you ready?” he asks while shooting you a comforting look, his words have no trace of teasing or mockery.

you look at the vast expanse of trees in front you. it looks as if it stretches on forever and ever, and you gulp as you think of all the possible things that could be inside, waiting for you and hyunjin to enter before striking.

that being said, you’d rather do this with him than do it alone.

“let’s just get this over with. the sooner we’re done here the sooner we’ll get back and I can strangle jeongin.”

hyunjin laughs before offering you his hand, which you take and pray that he doesn’t care about how shaky you are.

making sure to take note of the time on your phone you head into the forest, feeling twigs and leaves snap and crunch under your feet. the exposed skin on your legs stings as a cold gust of wind blows, the trees offering minimal protection.

“you know if you ignore all of the creepy stories about this place, it’s actually quite nice. so quiet…” hyunjin aloud.

“if you’re trying to make me feel better, it’s not working.”

a branch snaps, an owl hoots, you exhale shakily. it’s dark, but the scarcity of leaves still attached to their trees allows for just enough moonlight to seep through the spindly branches. soon enough, the two of you stumble upon a small-ish clearing, opting to stay there as opposed to trekking further and getting lost.

“jesus I hate this, how long has it been?” you ask hyunjin while rubbing your arms in an attempt to wake them up.

“it’s been…. 2 minutes.”

that’s it. this is the worst experience of your life. you are actually going to kill jeongin.

“come on y/n, it’s not that bad in here. at least you have me!” hyunjin tries to comfort you, but you can tell that he’s nervous just like you are.

“please, as if you’d be able to protect me from anything,” you tease, but when hyunjin doesn’t bite back you worry that you’ve struck a nerve, “i am glad you’re here with me, though.”

“i would’ve volunteered to go with anyone, honestly.”

“really?”

“...no.”

a small smile creeps it’s way onto your face at this, and not matter how hard you try you can’t wipe it off.

“sooo you volunteered to go with me because…?”

“because i have…… feelings….” he looks at you, and then looks at the ground, “for you….”

the word that comes to mind upon hearing hyunjins confession is satisfying. satisfying because you’ve known that he’s had feelings for you since the summer, he’s just a shithead. so, you feel satisfied.

“and i know it’s probably unfair for me to say this but i can’t stop thinking about you and i know that this is also the absolute worst place to confess but-“

he doesn’t say anything after that.

he doesn’t say anything because you press your pout against his, breathing in his scent as he kisses you back.

no words need to be exchanged as you briefly pull away before going in for more, hyunjins lips your absolute favourite drug that you crave day and night. a groan escapes hyunjins mouth and he moves to wrap his hand around the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in and tugging on your hair as he pushes you yo against a nearby tree.

with your head tilted to the side you weasel your tongue past his slippery teeth and into his mouth, sliding against his own. both of you parrot each others moans of desire as your hands explore the expanse of hyunjins back and shoulders.

you feel so cold when he pulls away from you, like your only source of heat has been ripped away from you eternally. when you pry your eyes open, not before a dissatisfied huff passes your lips, you see hyunjin descending.

it appears as if he sinks to his knees in slo-mo, eyes never leaving yours as he kisses his way from your knee to the inside of your thigh. with deft fingers he reaches under your skirt and hooks the waistband of your panties around his fingers before dragging them down your legs and tossing them to the side, soon to be forgotten.

“hyunjin,” you breathe, voice already shaky as you anticipate what’s to come (you). he doesn’t say anything, just grabs your right calf and swings your leg over his shoulder, his face now a mere few inches away from your pussy. it feels as if you’re on display for his eyes only, forced to watch as he sucks and nips at your thighs while leaving dark bruises and bite marks in his wake. slowly be surely he inches closer to the place where you want- no, need him most.

when the tip of his wet, pink tongue drags through your cunt your breath catches in your throat. he continues to offer only feeble kitten licks, and soon enough it has you craving more and more, his actions not enough to fulfil the growing desire you can feel boiling inside of you.

with outstretched fingers you reach out and grip a fistful of his raven hair, pulling on it and all but shoving his face impossibly closer to your wet, hot pussy. the tip of his nose nudges your clit, and the one leg that you’re balanced on almost buckles.

“you taste so good, honey,” hyunjin confesses while lazily dragging his fat tongue through your pussy, “sweet like candy.”

“ ‘s just for you, hyun,” your heads rolls back between your shoulders, resting on the tree behind you. for the moment you elect to forget where you are, focusing on the cute boy between your legs instead of the darkness of the surrounding forest that threatens to swallow you whole.

hyunjin cycles between sucking at your clit and teasing your hole with his tongue, a combo which, although has you seeing stars, is not enough to bring you to release.

“more, jinnie,” you plea, the pet name rumbling past your lips before you can catch yourself.

“you need more, baby?” hyunjin coos while gazing up at you, his eyes foggy and plump lips swollen and glossy. the hand of his that’s been laying dormant on your thigh moves to cup your pussy, groping you before he slides his index and middle fingers through your folds.

in one deft movement he slips his digits inside of you, his tongue poking and flicking your clit at the same time. your needy whines grow louder and echo around you, the goosebumps on your skin now from arousal and not from the cold.

hyunjin continues to finger you at a relaxed pace, his mouth traversing between stimulating your aching clit and nipping at the sensitive skin of your upper thigh. his eyes never leave yours however, and you feel as if you might slip and fall into his gaze, unable to escape.

“one more?” god you sound pathetic, but you don’t care at this point, “please?”

wordlessly, hyunjin slips his ring finger into your cunt. the stretch is subtle but has you yearning for your sweet release. the grip you have on his hair tightens, and you rock your hips against his face to help bring yourself closer and closer to your orgasm. the moans that leave his mouth in response to you tugging on the roots of his hair vibrate through your core, leaving you a stuttering, whiny mess above him.

“jinnie, I think i’m gonna-“ a desperate moan escapes you when hyunjin wraps his lips around your sensitive bud once more, sucking in tandem with the thrusts of his fingers.

over the volume of your own moans and the howl of the wind you can hear the squelching of your wet pussy as hyunjin finger bangs you until you cum all over his hand, his palm and chin sticky with your juices.

your heart drums in your chest as you slowly come back to earth, the warm body between your legs now gone and standing in front of you.

hyunjin looks as if he wants to eat you, swallow you whole, with hair a mess and cheeks splotchy and pink. through his costume you can see he’s hard, his cock begging to be released from the fabric prison it’s confined to.

he kisses you again and you can taste yourself on his tongue, fighting off any embarrassment you feel with the justification that getting your pussy devoured by him felt so fucking good.

your tongue slots against hyunjins inside of his mouth, and you feel him move to push his pants and briefs down to allow his cock to spring free. his sticky warmth mouth is pulled from yours and you watch as he pumps his dick several times to get himself fully hard.

his cock is long and veiny with a slight curve that has you practically drooling all over his feet. of course you’ve seen it before, but it’s been so long and you’ve thought about it so much.

his tip is a dark shade of pink as he moves to drag it through your cunt, allowing it to kiss your still sensitive clit which sends a jolt through your body. not wanting to waste any time, hyunjin wraps the same leg that was sling over his should a few moments ago around his waist. with one hand grubbing your thigh and the other gripping the base of his cock, he slowly sinks into you, allow you to feel every inch of his aching shaft.

“oh god, hyunjin,” you cry, feeling so full after months and months of feeling so empty. hyunjin breathes through his nostrils, attempting to control himself as he bottoms out in your tight hot pussy.

the bark of the tree that you’re pinned up against scratches and digs at the skin of your shoulders and upper back but you’re too drunk on hyunjin to care. all you care about is his cock that’s fucking into you, his tongue that’s tracing your jawline, his curious hand that reaches into your corset and pulls out your breasts.

his mouth makes its way from your neck down to your chest, where he deftly takes your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before giving the same treatment to the other.

your legs cramp as you spread them apart as far as possible given your current position, doing your best to accommodate hyunjins dancer hips. his hips that move so fluidly against you, rolling upwards and grinding against your cunt with each thrust.

every time hyunjins tongue rolls across your tit you can feel it in your core contributing to the small fire that’s growing with every move he makes. one of your hands finds purchase in his hair again and the other finding stability by gripping his shoulder,

“jinnie, hngh-“ you stutter and whine embarrassingly, thankful for the fact that there’s no one around to hear how desperate you are. hyunjins pace picks up and he pumps his cock into you faster, harder, deeper. your limbs turn to jelly as he fucks you with no restraint.

“fuck y/n, I’m so close,” is all he can pant after pulling himself off of your tits, the hair at the base of his neck damp with sweat despite how cold it is outside. the walls of your pussy flutter around his cock as you’re on the brink of your orgasm, waiting to feel your release wash over you.

it only takes a few more thrusts to send you spiralling, creaming all over hyunjins cock as he finishes inside of you. his cum feels hot and heavy inside of you and it warms you to the core on this cold fall night.

the heat you feel in your cunt slowly begins to wane, and you whimper when hyunjin pulls his now soft cock from your hole that’s dripping with his cum; some of it sticks to your thighs.

with a chaste kiss to your lips hyunjin pulls away, fixing himself up before helping you adjust your corset and reaching down to grab your phone that had fallen to the forest floor.

the blue screen almost blinds you when you turn it on, and you’re met with several missed texts from jeongin.

[12:55] jeongin: okay y/n it’s been like 15 minutes you guys can come back now

[1:03] jeongin: seriously y/n it’s been a while, people are starting to worry

[1:04] jeongin: not me of course, but other peopl

[1:16] jeongin: ok y/n this isn’t funny anymore, i get that you’re pissed at me but seriously you guys need to come back

[1:19] jeongin: unless…. the lost john legends are true

[1:19] jeongin: oh god

“this shithead,” you mutter, opting to leave him on read for now

you glance at hyunjin, who’s standing there awkwardly, looking at the moon through the branches of the trees.

“do you wanna come back to my place? i don’t really feel like going back to the party,” he says in a way that seems like he’s bracing himself for you to say no, “we can watch easy a? you know, since i’ve never seen it.”

you stretch out your hand, encouraging him to take it.

“yea, I’d like that,” you say before the two of you make your way out of the forest before strolling down the street under the yellow glow of the moon

.･:*◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ ҉ ◥▅◤☾*:･

a/n: apologies if the smut seems rushed I wrote it on a bus lol

#stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #skz smut #skz fanfiction #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin fanfiction #hwang hyunjin blurbs #hwang hyunjin imagines

538 notes · View notes

savnofilter · 6 months

Text

Your Scent Is Sweeter | e. kirishima

Werewolf!Eijiro Kirishima x Virgin![FEM]Reader

CONTENT WARNING(S): sexual content, one shot, loss of virginity, kirishima likes how you smell, dry humping, hints of jealousy, spit (1), knot inflation, pull out method, mutual pining, friends -> lovers (?), established friendship.

COUNT: 3.4k words [13 mins.]

READ MORE: masterlist + [student masterlist]

A/N: ehhh i dont think i'll ever do this like an animal horny hybrid shit after the last few fics i have queued up. 😭 even if i do i'll def cringe it later probably anyways- ignore my hating… also this is a continuation from a draft over a year ago?? including the next two bakugo fics im going to post and the other dragon!kirishima fic so bare with me. this isnt even that bad LOL. thank you, anon!

How you and Kirishima first met was simple:

Two different hands reached out for the last skewer that sat on the hot grill, both stopping in hesitation at the presence of someone else. You both stopped and looked at each other, an awkward laugh coming from you as an equally shy smile graced his lips.

“Lady’s first!” He grinned at you, his sharp teeth showing as he blushed softly, stepping back. “Go ahead, I’ll just swing back later.”

“Thank you.” You smiled at him, feeling butterflies in your chest as the cute male allowed you to grab it.

As much as you wanted to say something else, your brain short-circuited on coming up with anything. Part of you wanted to tease him and say he could take it, but you never pass up on an opportunity for food. Nevertheless, even if it was for a random cute guy. Plus you had spent the last few hours dancing and working up a sweat, you were sure you needed it more than him. As he stood to the side, you were able to pay and take your leave, waving to him as you disappeared into the crowd. One last glance was exchanged with him as you left him at the stand.

Typically, you wouldn't go to many events if it weren't for the festivals or known shows; but this one faithful New Year's festival when you were fresh into adulthood had proven you made the great decision to attend the celebration. Events between humans and werewolves were often rampant during popular holidays, the New Year being one of them.

There were many people around with many great food booths to compare. It was only a mere coincidence that you two seemed to be craving the same savory treat, kabobs.

After the first time you two had met, you started bumping into him more at cultural events. You hadn’t told anyone that you had met with this boy. At least you were sure he was around your age, young twenties or so, but there was no mistaking he had a few on you though not too much. The more you saw him at these gatherings, the connection between you two grew naturally, and it soon evolved into a friendship. No one knew about this friendship and to your friends he was merely regarded as something akin to a hallway crush. What they didn't know was that you two had been seeing each other for about two years now, doing various things together as a private friendship. It was no surprise the once innocent feelings you had for him slowly turned into a crush each time you two met. Luckily enough for you, today was one of the days when you two could catch up and you were more than ready to see him again.

You bit your lip as you sat on the cut-down tree stump, one of the many things that made him complain. Something about humans defiling the woods by making modifications that didn’t need to be made. Oftentimes when you met him, he ranted about different things, all things to be exact. Even with his rambling nature, he had other sides to him. You saw him chill, you saw him happy, you’ve seen him angry and you’ve seen him annoyed. But the ‘mood’ he approached you with today was something different. It was… feral. In a way, you couldn’t explain it.

“E-Evening, Kirishima.” You smile up at him as he walks up to you, holding up the basket you brought for him. “I made your favorite, they’re still hot just how you like them!” You open the basket to show him the goodies, scooching over on the big seat to give him room to sit down. He was quiet today, stiff too. You tried not to show your concern as he picked up the bag and sniffed it. It was times like these when you could pay close attention to the way his face looked, admiring the roundness of his cheeks that complimented his sharp jaw.

Kirishima only grunts as he sits away from you, his quiet and fidgety demeanor worrying you a bit. Your eyes observed his statue that had a light sheen of sweat layering his tanned skin that was visible to the eyes, his brows scrunched angrily. His facial expression was one of heavy frustration even with how much he tried to hide it. Whatever he was trying to find using his snout appeared to not have been found, and he was once again on the hunt to find the source.

Kirishima proceeds to start sniffing again, this time pulling away to smell somewhere else. You couldn’t help but stare as his behavior was odd, flinching a bit when his nose led to sniffing around you. You tried to stay calm as he got closer, shifting awkwardly as you contemplated the right moment to ask about his demeanor. His breathing seemed a bit ragged too, his chest rising and falling as he avoided contact with you, even visually.

“You’re… in heat.”

If he couldn’t see the blush on your face you could certainly feel it.

“....what?"

“I can smell it, you’re aroused...” Eijiro responds simply. "And you smell really good."

He was still standing as he towered over you. He rested the basket next to you and didn’t move, his eyes dark with a glint you haven’t seen before. His hand comes up cup your jaw, his palm hot against your skin. You play with your sleeves as you grow flustered, laughing nervously as the thought of being in a lewd situation with the black-haired male starts to run through your head.

“Eijiro…” You start, looking up at him as he makes you look up at him by tilting your head up. You felt as though you were caught stealing from a cookie jar, hands covered in crumbs as you tried to hide the emotions stirring inside you that he could very obviously sense.

His lips spare you the process of trying to come up with something to say as he presses his mouth against yours. You felt something spark as he did, your hands that were once clenched at your chest held his shoulders, stabilizing yourself when he forces you to lay down on the large tree stump you sat on. You tried to keep up with his kisses, opening up your mouth to let him in, fearing the pain of accidentally poking something if you chose to let your tongue wander in his. You moaned as his tongue poked and prodded in your hot cavern, his hands moving to grip your thighs to spread them apart as he got between them.

You hadn't noticed how big his body was, being so exposed to it so many times in such a friendly setting compared to this one. You daydreamed about this moment but never did you think it would happen so soon. Your heart hammers in your chest upon feeling his lips move so softly against yours, caring even. You could tell that he was the skilled one between you two and his kind way of gentleness showed with his fervent kisses. Unfortunately for him though, you didn't nearly have as much lung capacity as him to continue this unbroken kiss.

One of your hands on his shoulders taps him as an indicator for a breather, the doting male taking the message. Your labored breaths mix with his as your eyes can't help but be glued to his in desperation. A timid mewl is ripped from your lips when his hands that once respectfully rested on the sides of your hips swoop down to grip the back of your thighs and reach behind you to squeeze your bum. Kirishima growls as the scent of your arousal heightens, his gaze darkening as he prepares himself to fuck you.

"I-I didn't want to pounce on you like this but you smell so good." Kirishima rambles as his hands start to grope at your clothed skin. You couldn't do anything but just lay there and take it, watching up at him with curious eyes.

His strong and calloused hands trail up your body to grope your chest through your clothes, the heavy weight of his hands bringing a rush of excitement straight to your core. Whilst he fondles you he successfully manages to slide closer to you between your legs, your thighs resting on his as he gets comfortable. You bite your lip feeling his hard length now pressing against your core, a taunting sensation between the layers of clothes that restricts you. While your hands never left his shoulders his hands happily roamed your body.

From when he was fondling you, he was able to unbutton some of your blouse, the top of your cleavage now exposed to him, and the beautiful light of the moon from atop the sky. You feel tightening in your chest as oxygen starts to run out from kissing for so long, your hands lightly pushing him away. He pulls away with a light growl that marks his excitement. Kirishima hadn't slept with humans often but had to remind himself that he had to be gentle…. at first.

"Do you want this, Y/N?" Eijiro holds your chin to have you look up at him. You lightly gulp in excitement at the feeling of his rough hands on your jawline, a more than ready nod coming from you.

"I want to, Eiji." You're not even sure how you managed to maintain eye contact after relaying that. Until now, you had only kissed other people but other than that it never went further. There wasn't much left to ponder about his experience in these activities, though. "Just be gentle, this is my first time, okay?"

He visibly portrays his shock at the revelation with a dropped jaw but quickly recovers by nodding his head in understanding. If anything, this is one of the best news he's heard in a while. Now it wasn't often that Kirishima thought about your sex life. When he did think about you having sex, other partners were never in the equation. Just purely you and him. Though on his part he was assuming your experience—it was just Ludacris to him that no one has gotten that far with you yet considering he could tell the way most of the males around you acted.

Those festivals where he'd watch you from afar and get a jealous flutter in his chest fell testament to this, later his anger fueling into pure neediness in the comfort of his bedroom. He'd be straight-up lying if he said he wasn't crushing on you hard. You were as sweet as ever, pretty with a physique that suited you nicely, a smile that he fell in love with on the first day, and god you always smelled so good. Even in times when he'd playfully chase you down and you'd try and push him away in embarrassment of odor, it was that exact husk that drew him in closer. The pull that made him want to pin you down and fuck you raw.

Kirishima grips your hand and kisses the back of it as he stares deeply into your eyes. "Of course, anything for you."

You softly sucked in a breath feeling his hot hand slip down to palm your sex, the sensation so very foreign to you. Undoubtedly he could certainly sense the wetness through your clothes, another animalistic growl coming from him. He palms you in preparation for his eventual fucking, skilled hands rubbing at your labia and then playing with your clit. Your body jolts at the pleasure you receive from that certain area, a pained whimper in desperation slipping from your lips as you clawed at him.

His deft fingers easily rubbed against your clothed core, determined to get you hot and ready for him. His eyes watch down in a predatory gaze as he watches your expressions for any behavior change, his pupils dilating in hunger as he watches your body open more and more for him. Once he's done pawing at you he presses his crouch right against yours, the heat and weight of his confined cock stirring a whimper from within you. You tilt your head back, hands still stuck on him as you pull him closer to your body instinctively. Kirishima wordlessly leans in to press more animalistic kisses to your neck, now utilizing his sharp teeth to nip and bite at your skin. He groans against your sweet skin as you start to grind against him as well, a revelation now settling in that you were impossibly sensitive in all areas of your neck.

Usually by now, Kirishima would've fucked whoever was underneath him into oblivion already, but he was purposely taking it slower. He needed to tease and punish you for not being his any sooner. To make him wait so long to get between your luscious and squeezable thighs.

"Eijiro," A louder moan encourages him when he roughly nips at the conjuncture of where your neck and collarbone meet, the sensation sending a hot shiver down your spine. Mixed with the friction of his heavy hips against yours you're shaking under him, eyes prickling with tears as an unfamiliar feeling starts to wash over you. "W-Wait—!" You try to tap his shoulder, the act has him unmoving as he himself already knew what you were experiencing.

Kirishima leans up to witness the pleasurable experience wash over you, greedily taking in the fact it was him to accomplish it without even having to do anything. In seconds he's gripping your jaw and having you look at him as he places another searing kiss against your lips. You're sloppily meeting him halfway there with no doubt that his tongue has all the right to overpower yours. Your hands are lost in his hair whilst his are impatiently ripping off your clothes ready to take you under the moonlight.

A line of saliva connects you two when he pulls away, the small connection popping when he licks his lips. Your mouth and skin tasted so sweet, that he'd have to remind himself to eat you out next time, preferably somewhere more romantic and private.

The male on top of you grunts as the cool air of the night hits his now exposed schlong, the naked member twitching at the sensation. It was a reminder that he needed it in somewhere warm and his solution was right in front of him. He groans once the scent of your fresh arousal hits his nose, it now being stronger than ever with your hot cunny in line of sight for him. You were a sight to behold, truly. Skin littered with his bite marks, a light sheen of sweat coating your skin and your pussy dripping in need for him.

"Do you want it?" Kirishima asks with a growl in his voice. You had just come down from an orgasm and he didn't want to rush you.

"Give it to me, Eiji."

He doesn't have the balls to play with you anymore and gets straight to it. He presses his bulbous head against your opening, rubbing it up and down your pussy lips as he tries to loosen you up. "Relax."

You bite your bottom lip and try to do as told, eyes glued to his raging hard cock. You hadn't seen a cock before now but you were a hundred percent sure this was the prettiest you have and will ever see. You shiver when he pokes his tip at your clit, the sensitivity from before making you squirm. Your eyes flicker up as you watch him spit on his cock for more lubrication, mixing the substance with your arousal and his precum to make it easier for you to take.

"I'm going in--fuck." Kirishima breathes out as he inserts his dick into your gummy walls, the squeezing around him has him reeling in pleasure. With no remorse, he grips the back of your thighs and presses them against your body in a mating press, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as your cunt swallows his cock in this position. He tilts his head back as he slowly and surely rocks the rest of his length into your awaiting cunt, the ecstasy he was experiencing had never been felt before. It was almost reminiscent of the first time he had lost his virginity except this felt exponentially better.

His hands nearly rip your shirt open to show your breasts to him, the restriction of your clothes around your breasts making them perk up for him. He licks his lips as your nipples harden even more at the attention. Your tits bounce with each thrust as he slowly tries to ease himself in, his excitement making it hard for him to stay patient.

Your breathy moans are the only thing he can hear and focus on, totally zoning out on anything around him. Everything about you felt too good. The way you wrapped around his cock, how your hands gripped at him, the desperation in your voice, and the way that you felt under his hands was intoxicating. Kirishima had been waiting for this for so long and he could finally have it, have you. With patience, he was able to start rocking his hips faster and deeper into your cunt. The lewd noise of your pussy squelching with every thrust encouraged him to do more, to fuck you more passionately.

His lips were busy marking up your skin not caring about the complaining you might have for later. Earlier when he was eagerly trying to take off your clothes he tried his best not to rip your clothes off but there was no guarantee his (kind) gesture came to fruition. That minuscule dilemma will be something to deal with when you both get there.

His hand dips down to mindlessly play with your sensitive bean, humming in satisfaction when it elicits a sharper moan from you. You're grinding your hips against his with vigor, body shameless in the pleasure it receives from him. Your eyes could barely focus on anything specific as the male you once considered a friend completely obliterates your cunt. Tears prickle at your eyes as you start to feel an intense sensation that washed over your body not too long ago.

"E-Eiji," You pant out, head lifting lightly from the wood.

Kirishima's head immediately lifts from your skin and looks up at you, you two millimeters apart from each other's faces. "You close, babe?"

You nod frantically and wrap your legs around his waist, locking him in closer. He groans at how well you're able to take him, the new position allowing you to take in his cock fully. He softly coos as you try to stick it out, a pained but pleasured expression adorning your features.

"Cum on my cock, baby."

The buzzing in your system doesn't die down, everywhere in your body feels as though it's on fire. You're engulfed in everything he gives you and refuse to let this moment go. Your body is raging with white-hot arousal as you come undone with the help of a few thrusts and his fondling. You groan happily as he grips your thighs and presses them against your body again, an unfamiliar swelling at the base of his cock forming at the base of his cock and slamming against your pussy with each thrust. You peek down to see the inflation, a bit of worry rushing into your system.

Kirishima cusses as he lets go of one of your legs and pulls out, his spunk immediately spilling onto your pubic area and pussy, successfully covering you in his load. You whimper at how much there is, some getting on your clothes and the already defiled tree trunk from the spillage. You felt yucky with all the sweat and fluids and felt like it was prime time to go to sleep.

You shyly make eye contact with him and let out a nervous giggle, happily welcoming an approaching kiss as he leans in to take your lips against his. You two gradually come down from your high, your body now slumped against the flat surface of the massive cut-down tree.

You two will figure out what you are later.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #werewolf!kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha oneshots #mha oneshots #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #n/sfw #sav's sins

310 notes · View notes

daria-meoi · 8 months

Text

About the Nightingale song and the Bentley.

Ok. I did a thing. You know that Nightingale song the Bentley plays when Crowley starts the engine. I was sure it was a reconciling message from Azi. Simply because the Bentley has been shown to be almost sentient and couldn't function as a device in which you could queue a song to play later (some summer children claim Crowley did that). She always responds to the current moment. And she's been shown to have formed a particular bond with Azi.

So there are three possible instigators of the song:

1. The Bentley herself: a) if she is that tone-deaf (which is almost impossible), b) if she is that bitch (which is possible - Crowley mentions that his car is not a fan of him living in her - but unlikely).

2. Crowley's state of mind (which kinda contradicts the seemingly obvious).

3. Aziraphale.

Now. The creators wanted to put this song there and to make it instantly recognizable so that Crowley could switch it off pretty fast but we still caught the line about the nightingale singing. So it couldn't start from the beginning, it instantly went about the nightingale (another point against the "he queued it" version).

The song has this line three times. I've never been that good at processing audio information, but after several listenings I'm pretty sure that the second one is used here.

Due to all sorts of circumstances it was technically not that easy and not at all pretty, so I'm not posting it. I had to use an old shitty phone with VPN to open the song on YouTube first, recorded it on a different phone, then recorded a video of the final minutes of the 6th episode (together with my own reflection in the screen and shaky hands). And superimposed them on each other matching that bit, which the Bentley plays. I did math first of course, so I knew what I would get, but still wanted to see it with my own eyes.

And you know what? The song starts playing when Azi asks the Metatron about the plan, the lyrics start when he gets the answer about the second coming. When Azi turns and looks at Crowley it goes "There were angels dining at the Ritz". When Crowley is getting into the car the song goes "That when you turned and smiled at me", here the Bentley picks up "A nightingale sang in Berkeley square". The last accords of the song end together with Azi's insane-ish smile followed by the blur.

Make of this what you like.

Upd: here's the video edit I made.

#good omens #good omens 2 #good omens spoilers #aziraphale #crowley #the Bentley #no nightingales #I'm perfectly normal about it #good omens meta

546 notes · View notes

number-onekidqueen · 2 months

Text

𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞

Based on Moth to a Flame by the Weeknd & Swedish House Mafia

Post-tlt!Luke x Apollo!fem!reader

Angst - 3.1k

warnings: making out, Steve is a warning 💀, reader is cheating with Luke, SPOILERS FOR THE LIGHTNING THIEF AND A TINY BIT OF SEA OF MONSTERS.

It wasn’t him.

That was all you could think about as your boyfriend kissed you passionately in front of the whole camp. Sure, he was an excellent kisser, but it wasn’t as nice as it could’ve been.

If it was him, he would’ve known to leave the breathtaking kisses for private. Known that you hated to make a scene. Would’ve put your comfort before his lusty need to kiss you-

You couldn’t think that. He was evil. And he had hurt your terribly. You refused to say his name even now, six months after his departure. He had left you and betrayed the whole camp and was conspiring with Titans, trying to start a war.

Steve…. Wasn’t like that.

You liked him. He was nice and treated you like you should be treated. He was a spectacle to be around.

You still remembered all the drama from when he’d first asked you out. It was a story, all right, just like Steve liked.

You hadn’t been in a great place then. You cried every night over him - you still did - you avoided the Hermes cabin like it was a plague, and you just felt numb and empty every day.

And then he’d asked you out. Steve was from the Ares cabin, and after he had left, the red team had been having a lot of luck with winning Capture the Flag.

It had been another one of Steve’s victories, and he’d been triumphantly waving the flag around before he passed it to his teammate, and drew the camp’s attention.

“So, thanks to me, we get the best chores, best privileges. Thanks Chiron.” And Ares cabin roared as Chiron nodded awkwardly. “Still, I want one more thing. I have to have one more prize. Her. I’d like to ask y/n l/n to be my girlfriend.”

And your friends had talked about this for a while before, how they seemed to just know Steve had a crush on you - even though you couldn’t see it - and how they thought you guys would be perfect together. And how it would help you get over him.

You said yes.

And it was a fairytale from there.

Every time he won Capture the Flag, (which was every week just about) he’d pick you up and spin you round, kissing you. It became a tradition, a victory kiss. And they were long, burning, breathless kisses, and he would continue even when you tired and stopped. He was passionate that way, all about making your pulse quicken. But not as much as did when he-

At dinners in the pavilion, you would share a peck before every meal while you queued. He was always next to you, and although it was kinda dull having him dismiss your friends so he could talk to you privately, at least you had the company right? And you always shared your extra food with him when he was hungry, and sometimes he would try to feed you sandwiches teasingly, which everyone cooed at. You wished they wouldn’t-

On weekend nights, you’d come back with him to Ares cabin secretly, and he’d make out with you in his bed, telling you he deserved his girlfriend after a long and hard week. And you would kiss and kiss and kiss and your lips would be swollen, your head would be spinning and people would roll their eyes and talk about how stupidly in love the pair of you were.

Like a fairytale.

Except, it had a bit of a twist. When he finally tired of your body and lips, and let out a few gentle snores, then you would escape.

You started the habit the first time you couldn’t sleep after one of your make out sessions.

It was idiotic, but you couldn’t fight the way you were still loyal to the traitor you had called your lover, how you felt sick to the stomach each time you felt Steve’s arms around you, tighter and more cage-like than his had ever been. You couldn’t fight the way your mind flitted between the two boys, comparing and contrasting between them to the detail, draining you of your sanity as the night stretched on. Hypnos didn’t bless you with rest, and you cursed the god that had ever created overthinking.

You’d walked out, your arms huddled around you like his should be, and you stumbled in the cool darkness all the way to the beach.

And in the obscurity of the night, you would let your heart break properly, as completely as it needed to. You would sin, become the villain of your own fairytale.

You would whisper his name, over and over and over, as you would tell him everything that had happened to you. Every event that had transpired since he left. Eventually, you’d bring old Polaroids of the pair of you you’d hidden away, and an old flickering torch to view them with. A lot of the time you simply sobbed your heart out, whispering his name again and again into the sands, this beach the only place you could ever continue to love him.

Usually, you were out for a while, bathing in your midnight misery, sometimes until Apollo deigned to let the Sun give light to the sky.

It wouldn’t make you happier.

Once everything was visible, occasionally you stared at the ocean, spotting the distant specks that were ships. You wondered if any of them were his, stupid Princess Andromeda, with all the horrifying monsters aboard you’d heard about.

It was torture, thinking like that. That he was one call away, that you might scream across the waves and he would hear, and yet you were worlds apart.

Once the sunshine heated your skin, you would drown your love in the daylight, and head back to Steve, your… lover.

It was an awful, unhealthy routine. You knew that, and felt so many tremendous ways about it.

But it was also beautiful in a painful way you’d grown to love.

It was much the same tonight.

Relief like a tsunami washing over you, as you began to feel the sleepy inhales and exhales of your boyfriend. The fifteen minutes it took you to softly slip out of his embrace unnoticed, and how they dribbled by slowly. A quick check for harpies, a speedy walk to the beach down the faint path your careful steps had created.

Than the silence.

Agonising, serene silence.

The stars would hear his name again, as you spoke, the only witnesses to your traitorous actions.

You’d only said his name once, listening as it faded into the sounds of the night, the chirping of insects and breeze in the trees.

Crunching footsteps disturbed the peaceful aura.

Instantly, you were on your guard, cursing yourself for lacking in a weapon. No matter how heavy the clunky torch was, it would be no match for fangs or talons. You held it up regardless, circling around on your feet as you searched for the source of the sound.

“Is that a torch? Man, I’m outta here.”

You might’ve died. Your heart stopped. Your breath caught. Everything inside you froze.

It was him.

Him.

Your torch lowered as he approached, the moon casting a holy glow on his face and distinct scar.

He looked exactly as you remembered.

Tall, lean, eyes deep, dark and entrancing, curls the rich colour of cocoa.

Handsome as Adonis-

No. You raised your torch again, as you reminded yourself who this boy was, what he had done to you. No, you did not trust him, even if you missed him.

“It’s me. I’m not here to hurt you,” he reassured, approaching you softly as if you were the dangerous one, “you don’t have to be on guard.”

Being you isn’t enough anymore, you wanted to scream.

“What are you here for then? Are you planning some attack at camp?” You asked instead, horrified.

“What are you out here for? Are you planning to join me?” He whispered back, smirking.

“I- no, no. I could never do what you’ve done- what you do, no-“

“Yeah, yeah, I’m horrendous, I get it,” he interrupted, impatient, “but you’re still out here. And you were saying my name.”

The last sentence was almost… sensitive and hopeful. You didn’t like the way that vulnerability made you feel.

“I did not. I have not said your name since the day you left, the day you betrayed us.” You denied, shaking your head and backing away from him. He followed you, even as you feet moved left and right.

“Please, stop,” you begged, scared now as he continued to step where you stepped.

“No, I came back for you,” his expression and voice changed, no longer smug and smirky. He was desperate, genuine. “There hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you. I still love you, y/n, and the biggest mistake of my life was leaving you here.”

Your eyes welled at his words. This was all you’d ever wanted to hear.

“You can’t just say that, you- you-“ your voice broke, and you finally stopped your retreat as your back hit a tree. “You left me for six months. You can’t just come back randomly, if you loved me you wouldn’t have left and-“

There was only a foot between the two of you. And it was rapidly closing, each steady footstep bringing you nose to nose. You couldn’t stop it, and you didn’t want to.

“I-I- what are you doing, I can’t do this, whatever this is- I have a boyfriend and um, what-“

Your foreheads were almost touching. He was frowning, your guess was at the mention of Steve. Your eyes met, and you glanced away, knowing if you met his gaze once more you would give into anything he requested.

“If you loved your boyfriend,” he breathed, each word becoming hotter and breathier as it neared your lips, ”you wouldn’t be out here crying and saying my name like a prayer.”

It was impossible to resist. Your eyes met again, and it felt as if you didn’t have a choice as he leaned down to kiss you. Your body was just following what it yearned to do.

It was just as fantastic as you remembered.

Blazing, spectacular, thrilling fireworks all through your body. On both of your lips burning and tingling with electric attraction, as they moved at a seamless speed. On your shoulders, as he massaged the bones, his hands brushing the length of them. In your blood as every particle of you seemed to hum in joy and satisfaction. It was an eager, sweet kiss, and it was precisely what you’d been missing.

Why had you been trying to be a princess in a fairytale?

It was one of the only things you and he agreed on. You hated fairytales.

You preferred thrillers.

In sync you drew apart for breath, panting hard and grinning. After a short pause, you couldn’t hold it in anymore,.

“Luke,” you said.

It was like saying a dirty cuss word that held powerful meaning. A secret no one wanted revealed. This was the loudest you’d ever said it in months, and you felt glad at the release of his name from your heart.

It was the magic word for Luke.

Immediately his lips were on yours, and there was no restraint this time. If that kiss had been hungry before, these were starved.

Every ounce of anything either of you had felt was developed into that kiss. It was a myriad of different emotions, conflict and similar feelings rebelling and intertwining as your lips and tongues danced. I love you. I hate you. All I want is you. I’ve missed you. All I think about is you. I’ll never love someone how I love you-

“Come with me,” he begged, breaking apart as you shuddered for breath, and how could you refuse if he looked at you like that?

Luke beamed at you, seeing as you weren’t rejecting him and eagerly took your hand in his. The familiar warmth almost caused you to faint.

And then he was leading you swiftly away from the beach, into the woods, and towards another part of the shoreline.

You were almost giggly, as he pulled you along, over logs and past dense patches of lush shrubbery. It was like you were sixteen again, sneaking away from harpies and head counsellors so you could stargaze and kiss.

You made it to his ship soon enough, the Princess Andromeda.

It was certainly fit for royalty.

The style and size of the boat caused you to stop a moment, your jaw dropping.

Luke continued to tug at your hand, pulling you along and towards the deck before you could reconsider. You figured you were too far gone to turn back now. But you didn’t want to either.

“C’mon,” he urged, as you rapidly ascended the steps onto the ship. He led you inside, and down a few corridors, before he opened a door to what looked to be his room.

It was grand, stylish. A double bed stood in the centre, a desk and ensuite to the left, and a wardrobe and bedside table to the right. You knew then that this was probably bigger and better than anything he’d ever had in his life. You wondered if he ever got lonely in the large space, or simply always felt like a king.

Your thoughts were removed almost violently out of your head as Luke kissed you abruptly, pushing against you and using your back to close the door behind you.

“I missed you,” he muttered against your lips, his arms twisting around you and hoisting you up, as if you were a bride.

You laughed then, giddy, and said it back to him.

He placed you on the bed softly, grinning and giving you time to shift about and be comfortable before he climbed over you, hovering above.

The romantic assault ensued soon after. He tasted and smelled the same, and even though you were in new surroundings, it was like coming home.

“Your boyfriend,” he panted, laying heated kisses like freckles down your neck, “does he kiss you like this?”

“No.” The answer was breathy but definite.

You could feel his smirk on your collarbone. “He doesn’t know, does he? About what you do out there. Try and talk to me, look at photos of us, cry. I’m your secret.”

And he was exhilarated to be your secret it seemed, because the kiss he gave you then was heart-stopping and sped up, like all the love scenes in thrillers.

And then the kissing stopped, because you both stupidly needed to breathe, and he lowered his head to your neck, his nose brushing the hollow of it as he regained oxygen.

You sat up yourself, and while he continued panting, reached for the hem of his shirt. He froze, his eyes meeting yours in shock. He nodded insistently.

It wasn’t the worn edge of his camp t-shirt you were used to, but the smooth fold of a new, better-fitting, more expensive one.

You pulled it off, slowly, your fingers scraping against his sides in ways that made him shiver. It finally travelled over his head, and you tossed it somewhere on the floor, before cupping his face in your hands.

“I’ll never get over you. I never have. Steve is just Steve and you’re you.” You whispered, lovestruck.

You were sure he would’ve answered back something just as personal and romantic, but your fingers had found their way to his scar, the ridged line he’d loathed and you’d come to adore. All the words seemed to have evaporated from his mouth. You traced the length of the scar softly, before kissing every centimetre of it. His eyes had fluttered closed, and he was still. It was one of the only times his face looked so delicate.

He sank down into the mountain of pillows, yanking your shirt off and tossing it, and you hovered over him, tracing and smoothing your hands over the tense planes and valleys of his chest and shoulders. He inhaled and exhaled sharply, and you knew how much your care and adoration of him and his body meant to him.

He was even more muscly than before, somehow, and you marvelled at the strength and might of your beloved boy, as you began leaving a burning line of kisses from the hollow of his neck to his navel.

He shuddered, making little noises at each touch of your lips to his chest.

Once your lips had finished that journey, up and back, you settled into his side, tucking your head under his chin and on his chest.

His heart was racing, and as was yours, and the close, intimate feeling of it all was enough to make you beam. He turned his head to face you. His eyes were earnest, shining with clarity and joy.

“You’re the only good thing in this world. I love you.”

And the world seemed to stop once your lips met again, because everything was perfect.

Your heart, mind and body, all in the right place, cradled in his arms.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thrills only last so long before they wear off.

The sunshine that streamed in through the porthole was like a warning from your father, a reminder that your actions were against everything you loved. Everything you believed in.

A reminder that while you loved Luke, you loved Camp Half-Blood more.

You left your heart there, tucked between his sheets, nestled in his warm embrace. The loss of it tore your chest, as you tiptoed through the corridors, gasping at the monsters you could now see and swearing at yourself as tears flooded your vision.

Maybe you should’ve woken him, you thought, given him one final kiss.

You never would’ve been able to leave.

You settled for leaving a note.

You will always have my heart.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was awake.

Of course he was. You’d always been restless, while you overthought and he’d woken as you tossed and turned softly.

And he knew.

Knew then that you were going to leave him.

It was all over.

He’d wanted to hold tight then, keep you as his, and never be parted from you.

But he couldn’t.

He knew he couldn’t even though he wanted to, even though he had promised himself he would never lose you again as you fell asleep entangled with him.

It was the hardest thing in his life, feigning sleep as you silently slipped away, as you brushed his cheek in goodbye.

You will always have my heart.

They would always love each other.

Always be torn apart.

He realised bitterly you’d each be moths, drawn to the heat of each other, but always scalded and sent back by the flames.

#luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #pjo season 1 #pjo luke #pjo luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan angst #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #pjo series #pjo show #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo spoilers #post tlt #more angst 😘😘#i know everyone was begging for more #you're welcome #and don't worry more is on the way

235 notes · View notes

nastybuckybarnes · 6 months

Text

Training Wheels - Extra

Pairing: Dark!Step-Brother!Steve Rogers X Innocent!Reader

Summary: Your stepbrother would do anything for you. And he’s more than happy to prove that over and over and over again until you believe him. No matter what it takes.

Warnings: Language, Dark Themes, Age Gap, Angst, Kinda Fluff,

Word Count: >1K

A/n: I wrote this forever ago but never posted it so here’s a little extra piece for training wheels. The first parts can be found below. I’ve got two other things queued up to be posted that I might just fire off right away for shits and gigs but who knows!

Part One Part Two Part Three

!!!!THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT! 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

~*~

The line rings for a moment before connecting, a heavy breath filling the silence before- “Hi, Bunny.”

Your insides melt, bottom lip wobbling as you look through the thick glass to those endless blue eyes that you’ve fallen in love with.

“Hi, Steve.”

He smiles softly, his eyes devouring your features.

You haven’t changed at all since he last saw you.

Well, you look more tired, and your face is the tiniest bit rounder, but other than that you’re the same. And just as beautiful as ever.

“How’re you doing, sweet girl?”

You swallow hard, fighting tears as you sigh.

“I’m okay. I... I miss you.”

He nods, knowing the feeling all too well.

“I miss you too, honey. But I’ll be out soon, okay?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip for a moment.

“My mom doesn’t want me to come visit you anymore, says you’re dangerous. I tried convincing her but she doesn’t wanna hear it. Your dad drove me here though, he said he’s glad you have me.” Your eyes stay trained on his, sadness filling them.

“I miss you,” you repeat, tears filling your eyes.

He sighs, placing his hand against the thick glass separating the two of you. You lift your own hand, squeezing your eyes shut and wishing you could feel his warmth.

“Hey, look at me, Bunny.”

It takes you a moment, but you do, your eyes meeting his.

“I’m gonna be out of here soon, pretty girl. Then we’ll be back together again. I’ll build us a nice house and your mom won’t have any say in it, okay?”

You nod, taking a deep breath.

“I-” A hand falls on your shoulder and you jump, turning to look at the person.

“Time to go, girly.”

You grind your teeth but nod at the security guard, turning back to look at Steve.

“I love you, Steve,” you whisper into the phone.

His eyes soften and he gives you a soft smile.

“I love you too, Bunny.”

You hang up, eyes lingering on his for a moment longer before you’re being ushered out of the building.

~*~

You shut the door to your apartment with a sigh.

It’s been a long day.

You peel off your shoes then head towards the couch, freezing in your tracks when you see a figure standing by the TV.

“Hey, Bunny.”

Your heart races in your chest, throat constricting and hand fluttering down to your stomach.

Steve.

He turns to you with a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I thought you weren’t getting out for another six months!” You exclaim softly.

“Got out early. Of course, I would’ve told you that, but you stopped coming to see me.” His eyes get dark, borderline hostile, and you swallow hard.

“I... Mom kicked me out when I tried to see you. When... when she found out. Bucky and Nat helped me find this place and I've been trying to save up money for when you got out.”

His brows pull together and he takes a step towards you slowly, not wanting to scare you after all this time.

“Honey, you didn’t need to stop coming when she kicked you out.”

You sniffle, a stray tear sliding down your face.

You did.

He couldn’t find out. Not while in prison. He would’ve fought tooth and nail to get out and that would’ve only kept him from you for longer.

“I... Steve I...”

His eyes devour your figure, zeroing in on where your hand is protectively on your belly.

“Bunny...” His eyes flash up to your face then back down to your bump.

You only nod.

“You... is that why you stopped coming? Why your mom really kicked you out?”

You nod again, sniffling and scrubbing a tear off of your cheek.

“I-I didn’t wanna tell you ‘till you got out. But...”

He’s got you in his arms in the next second, lips pressed against your forehead as he whispers soft little words of reassurance.

“It’s gonna be okay, Bunny, I promise. M’gonna take care of you and our little one in here.”

He pulls back a bit, eyes on your protruding belly.

“You look so pretty like this, Bunny. All nice and knocked up. Got my baby growing inside you. Can't wait for you to have my baby, Bunny. Then m’gonna fuck another one into you.”

You whine, tilting your head back to look up at him, and he finally, finally, closes the distance.

His lips find yours after seven months of no contact.

Seven long, torturous months.

But now you’re here in his arms and he’s here in yours.

He’s not letting you go. Not again.

#Steve Rogers x reader #dark!Steve Rogers x reader #step brother au #step siblings au #Steve Rogers x reader dark fic #w:dark fic #dark fic #Steve x reader dark au #stepbrother!Steve x reader #training wheels #nastybuckybarnes

373 notes · View notes

writefightandflightclub · 1 month

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Eight (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note, this series is 18+. Minors / ageless blocks interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Oh my goshhhhh, I hope you're ready for chapter eight??!!! We've been on such a journey with these two, and I can't wait for you to see where they go next. As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. ILY :-*

Word count: 8.6k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

In your ensuite, you shower the residue of the day away from your flushed skin, rinsing the sand and sunscreen and sweat away beneath the warm, sluicing water. You’re alone, and yet your thoughts are consumed by another. By Santiago specifically; of course.

He had promised you something -to give you what you want, need- and you’re trembling already in anticipation of it. You feel butterflies unfurling in the pit of you at the thought of laying down with him. Of baring yourself to him. Of surrendering. Having him hold you. Not urgently or desperately this time - no. Intentionally. Deliberately. Gently.

You unhook the shower head to rinse the soapy suds away from the contours of you and you think of him - because how can you think of anything else? Indeed, your want is so barreling that even your own hands smoothing over your skin - your breasts, your stomach, your thighs - arouse you, your own touch the precursor to the path his warm, rough fingers might travel.

You are about to merge with him, but he already feels so much a part of you.

You belong to Santiago.

It’s Santiago who is indelibly written onto your body, the map of scars telling the story and you and him. The scar on your shoulder from a bullet wound, the scar on your calf from an off-road collision, the lines and marks all over you where Santiago has been there for you, taken fire for you, pressed his lethal hands to you to keep your lifeforce from ebbing away.

There’s that, but also, there are the more invisible markers which your life with him - alongside him- has left on your skin. There’s the scrape of his stubble against your neck. The grip of his broad hands on your hips. The pulse between your legs which your body remembers. You have catalogued and cartographed the soft and harsh parts of his body - and his soul. But, you still do not have the map to his heart. He is yet to show you the way; but even so…

He is your ride or die, and your body knows it. Always has.

Your body knows that you are about to collide with him. To be subsumed by the surge and undertow of him, and you throb for it. You expel a sugared moan into the steamy air as the jet of water provides pressure against your wanting clit, and for a moment you wonder how you can be so gone for him. You have been waiting for him to choose you; but, in truth, for you it was never a choice.

One of you can not hope to be read -to be understood- without the other. Your bodies are forever moving through the world as a team, as a pair, even if you leave each other’s side. You didn’t choose it so much as it just happened. A lifetime, wearing familiar dirt tracks into clear waymarked paths with every step forward.

Still, the map has always remained incomplete. You could never quite see where this path with him ended. How far it could take you. Whether he would walk alongside you some or all of the way.

You are grateful for him. So grateful. But you always want more. More of him. How could you not?

Santiago has already made your life beautiful in so many ways. Can he give you something beautiful tonight, too, like he had promised? Something that feels different to those waves which break, over and over, self-defeating. Something that feels different to an ending?

You startle as there is a soft rap at the door, and Santiago’s voice bleeds through the panelled wood, sounding as warm and grainy as sun-heated sand. Like summer. Like sunlight through a clearing in dense, gnarled woods. “Are you ready, querida?”

Are you?

Are you ready for what he has promised? Because you are suddenly all too aware that what he has offered -in not so many words- is to make love to you tonight. To give himself to you. To let you bask in him.

Are you ready for that? To see him in more than fragments. Not only snatching the haphazard pieces of him he offers - so jagged that they cut the palm you grasped them tightly in. Are you ready to feel whole?

Can you take his love if it doesn’t hurt?

Your heart thuds in your neck; from the hot, billowing steam, and from him. The mere idea of him. You step carefully out of the cubicle, steam venting into the room. Your skin is hot and wet and dripping, and you feel that same way too.

“Two minutes.”

You towel off, your hands lightly trembling.

You think of him, because how can you do anything else?

You think of the water, sluicing down his sturdy body as he showered off in the main bathroom. Of him getting himself ready for you. You wonder if he aches for you as you do for him. You wonder if he grew rigid beneath his hand as you were becoming liquid for him. You wonder, if his heart ever once felt like it had a choice.

You think about him waiting for you right now in the bedroom. Maybe shirtless, black-grey curls wet and tight, his golden brown skin lit with the soft orange glow of the lamp. Of him poised there in the quiet and stillness waiting to collide with you, just like the sea washing over this frayed edge of land in this endless dance - consuming, taking, giving, repeating. Working as a team.

You wonder if he feels this flutter in him too. This movement in him. This undeniable, slow drag which has always pulled you two to one another. Always.

And so, he asks you. Are you ready? And you do what you can to prepare yourself for this collision. So eager to merge with him, but basking in the fact that, for once, you get to take your time. That you don’t have to fear or brace, thinking about whether, when you crack the door to the bedroom, he will already be gone.

Taking your time then, and with subtly jittering hands, discombobulated breath, you smooth sweet-smelling lotion all over your body. Of course, you think of his hands and where they might travel too when they get their chance. Of how Santiago can touch you better than you could ever touch yourself. How he knows your body, seemingly, as well as he knows his own.

And so, you think of him. You think of him and of the ocean and the rocks. Of valleys and summits. Of dense jungles and sunlit clearings. Of the frayed edges of the land and the frayed edges of yourself. Of all the places where things collide and all the places where they merge, and how those places are so often one and the same.

So then, when you think that you are finally ready? When you have smoothed lotion into your skin and smoothed your pleasant, buzzing nerves, you step out into the bedroom.

And that is the very moment you realise. Realise that you’re not at all ready. That you could never be. How could you be? How could he fail to take your breath away, even once?

Just look at him.

You enter the bedroom, your silk robe draped appealingly over the contours of your body and Santiago stands, surging up from where he had perched himself so impermanently on the edge of the mattress. He’s been waiting for you and he looks; immediately. Drinking you in. His jaw falling slack. He looks like he might’ve smiled at first - or greeted you in words. But he can’t do so now. The words are swallowed, perhaps, as a gulp trails down his corded neck. Santiago looks serious, his brows weighted. He looks as though he knows how much this matters. Like he finally knows how much you matter.

You look at him too, and you find you can’t smile either. After all, Santiago fills you with a joy so heavy that sometimes, it is hard to recognise it as such.

You simply take him in, then. All at once. The contours and ridges of him, and the paths your hands might travel over his smooth brown skin. You see him. Your lust-ridden and love-sparked eyes dance over his wetted, grizzled curls, scrunched-up but with errant strands coiling across his forehead. You take in his bare, sculpted chest. His toned arms and his soft, inviting stomach. You drink in the way his brushed cotton joggers cling to his ample hips. To his sturdy thighs and to the clear outline of the bulge at his crotch as he swells with anticipation from the sight of you alone.

His hands hang loose yet primed at his sides as he looks at you from beneath his thick, fanning lashes. The pace of his breathing is slightly quickened, his gilded shoulders rise and fall with greater vigour as he scoops a hand over his flecked stubble and you hear it rasp. Feel it as though his fingers were your own. As though there is no difference or distance between you at all. Not the distance between here and Colombia. Not the distance he runs from you whenever you get too close.

Your chest tightens with the sheer familiarity of him. Because of the fact you already know how he feels and how he tastes. How the vibration of his moans in his corded throat feel against your skin. Your chest tightens, because even in the mellow light of the room he still looks sharp and sure. Formidable. But he looks like home too. You remember all the ways you already know he is tender, and you want to learn every other way too.

You take a deep, steadying breath as you sway towards him, from one steamy room to another, Santiago’s warmth every bit as enclosing. You are grateful that the window is cracked open, cool air kissing your heating skin. The sound of the swollen waves mirroring the surge within you.

In this moment, Santiago is not a man to you at all. Rather, he is a landscape. He is your whole life laid out before you. He is everywhere you have been, and he is everywhere you may go. His lands are your topography, and you know that you will walk his paths forever hoping to find a way to his heart. Hoping that, one day, he will let you call him home, even though you’ve already been here learning him for as long as you can remember.

He is everything. And you’re not ready. And it’s all too much.

Finally though, Santiago looks certain. He looks ready. He looks at you as though you are the moon and he is the tide, and that within moments he will move oceans for you. That he will flood your frayed edges, smooth and overcoming and inevitable.

He closes the distance, his warm palm slipping up to gingerly cup your face and his lips slanting to capture yours. His fingertips tugging at the bow of your robe, about to release it.

But you? You hesitate. You turn, almost impercebtibly, but it is enough for Santiago to notice.

You hesitate because, by now, you are so used to breaking. And you’re not sure you can do it again.

For so long, he has viewed you in pieces, and you have started to wonder whether he was the one who broke you apart in the first place.

Now though? His gentle, earnest eyes reading your face and your body so carefully? His hand reaching out for you in a way that promises healing? That shows his palm holds nothing jagged - nothing but love?

To your utter surprise, your skin flushes hot with embarrassment and you blink, your lashes fluttering towards your cheek. A modest, bashful smile is primed on your mouth. An apology readying itself on your tongue. It seems silly, you think. Silly to be hesitant now, after everything. Seems silly that after all of the times you have given in when he would promise you nothing, that you would shrink back when he offers you something more. Most of all, you think, it seems silly to be hesitant with him, after all the ways and places and times he has touched you.

You don’t quite understand it, but to his credit, Santiago seems to. When he senses your apprehension, his eyes narrow a little. His brow furrows, and his mouth slants up into a gentle, reassuring smile.

“Come here,” he says instead, before your garbled, unnecessary apology can free itself from your throat. His voice is as soft as the shushing waves and the mellow light and he takes you by the hand, his fingers twined delicately with yours. He leads you, but not forcefully. He leads you the way the sun leads the moon into the night sky as it chases its warm light - you gladly follow, his palm bleeding heat. His eyes full of sunlight. He leads you then to your bed and he peels the covers back, inviting you to lie with him through a subtle nod of his head. The way this all started the first time he undid you - except tonight, you know, is so very different.

Santiago climbs in first, never letting go of your hand, and he pats the spot on the mattress exposed by the turned-back comforter. Your fingers tug on your robe and you finally slip out of it, exposing the contours of your body to the pooling lamplight. Santiago’s tongue traces along his lower lip as he drinks you in, watching awestruck as the fabric shimmies to floor, pooling at your feet and leaving you bare. For a moment, you even feel self-conscious as Santiago regards you; for once not frenzied and desperate, but with time to study you. You feel on display and yet he makes you feel nothing but beautiful. Makes it seem natural as you allow the caress of the smooth fabric to be replaced by the warm embrace of him. You slip in beside him, shuffling under the covers. Both of you lying on your side to face each other, but still with some distance between you.

You breath hitches as Santiago’s arm folds over your bare middle, his lithe fingers applying smooth caresses to your skin, the pads of him dancing up the notches of your spine, tracing the line of your shoulder blade. You are happy for him to touch you. You want it. But you do not reach for him just yet. Your arms remain bunched in the space between you, your forearms guarding your chest.

“You still want this?” he asks, voice as soft as dissolving sugar.

You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, for you know it will be an irresistible, sweet, moreish thing. You can’t allow him to gaze into the depths of your own eyes just yet. After all, it is not only your body which is laid bare for him. Your feelings are too, you fear. Every single want and dream and desire and insecurity. He can read you. Knows you.

“Yes,” you attempt to state levelly, and yet your voice cracks wide open. “I want this more than anything.”

With a soft, perhaps relieved, exhale, Santiago shimmies forward then, closing some of the distance between your bodies. Tangles his thighs up with yours. Shifts his head so you are almost nose to nose on the pillow, dipping briefly to plant a fleeting kiss to the tip of your nose. All the while, too, his hand continues to wander over your body. Stroking you, caressing you, asking for nothing in return, and you bask in these slow, stretched, careful moments.

“Then… what is it?”

You finally look up at him then and, try as you might, you can’t disguise the way your eyes shimmer with emotion as you note the way concern has etched its way into his brow. For reassurance, your arms tug tighter into your chest.

His eyes become liquid too, the earthy mirror to your own. They shine with a deep well of friendship, of care, of love. And you realise exactly “what”.

Part of you is afraid, sure. Part of you has been hurt too much to accept that you could share something truly joyful with the man. But a larger part of you is keen to relish in this waiting and restraint for other reasons.

Why, though? Why on earth would you wait? Hesitate? Well - it’s quite simple, really. Because if it doesn’t begin, it can’t ever be over. If you don’t have him like this - whole, fully - then you can never lose all of him. Losing pieces of him was hard enough, wasn’t it? And you don’t know that you could bear to lose a scrap more than that.

Santiago’s gaze dips to your mouth and you can tell he’s eager. Good to go when and only if you should give him the green light. You want that. You do. Still, upon examining his expression more closely, something tells you that there is one more wall to fall. You’ve encountered so many of his walls already, that you’re not sure you have the strength to tear this one down.

In the end, you are grateful that you don’t have to. That he does it for you.

“You were wrong, you know,” Santiago’s voice sounds out, a gentle tone but full of subtle cracks. His hand slides up, gingerly capturing your cheek in his palm, holding your gaze with his. You don’t know what’s coming, but your chest tightens with some unknown thing, even as Santiago’s thumb tenderly strokes back and forth over your cheek to soothe you. Your brows knot, and you shake your head lightly, exhibiting your confusion.

Pursing his lips, preparing himself, Santiago tugs the covers up to your shoulders, keeping you warm. “That night in Philadelphia,” he continues, a divot carving itself into his brow at first, and yet a mere moment later, his face lilts into a soft, wistful smile. “That was it. That was the night.”

His smile widens, ever so subtly, and his eyes shine with enough adoration that you wonder if you’re meant to be here. If he can really be looking at you like that, or if you’ve momentarily stolen someone else’s life. “The night that… what?”

“The night my dumb ass first realised that I was in love with you. And… the night I first realised you didn’t love me back.”

You face scrunches with even deeper confusion now.

What?! But, that couldn’t possibly…

That night was years before you even hooked-up. Years and years and years before all of this. Before you even felt….

Oh.

Your breath stalls in your chest then as comprehension floods you.

He loved you first.

Your chest constricts, and your heartbeat pushes the rhythm of his name into your mouth, in lieu of any words.

Santiago.

All this time?

He crooks his finger under your chin, his gaze level and calm - no blame in it. “You were wrong, see? You didn’t get there first, querida. I was waiting a long time for you. I guess I got scared you’d never catch me up, and so I…” His eyes swim briefly then, clouding over with something like regret. “...I started running. And I guess I just…” His shoulders hunch up towards his ears. “I didn’t know how to stop.”

Santiago.

Your heart thuds his name, and you are overcome with too many emotions to name. Emotions which bend you from the inside out, mobilising you to unfurl yourself, to move towards him. But you don’t; not just yet.

You do see it plainly now, as you look into his earnest, regretful eyes. You’d spent so long acting as though he had something to prove to you, but you already know who he is, don’t you? Know that he’d never hurt you if he could help it. You see plainly how it has hurt him to love you. That it still hurts him to love you.

You don’t want that for him. You never wanted that. In fact, all you’ve ever wanted is for him to feel safe. To feel loved. And so, if Santiago can’t run freely into your safe hands? If he doesn’t believe he’s brave enough to do so? If your arms were closed to him for so long that he forgot what it felt to be open? If all of that is true, then you will reach for him instead.

“Santiago.” You breathe his name, finally pushing the syllables from out of your chest. Finally squeezing errant tears from the corners of your eyes as you realise all of this time you’ve loved each other alone instead of together like you should have. As you mourn all the missed moments. As you lament all of the things which got in the way.

That doesn’t matter now though. All of that feels inconsequential. It all feels like bullshit now that your paths have finally converged.

And so, you do reach for him with your careful, killing hands. It is your turn to gingerly cup his cheek with your palm now, his stubble rasping beneath your hand, and his long-lashed eyes fanning closed as he leans gratefully into your touch.

There’s so much that you want to tell him. So much that you want to say.

That you’re here now. That you love him. That he doesn’t need to run.

But… you don’t want to say it with words. After all, that was never the language you two shared most fluently. You want to tell him with touch. You need to. Want to tell him plainly and hear those sentiments returned in the writhing conflux of your bodies. In the moment, with your love for him spilling out of you, it seems no other way you could tell him - show him - could be enough.

You reach out then, and with a stuttered inhale, your chest a butterfly house, you press your palm to his warm, bare chest. You feel his heartbeat thudding under your hand. Faster, Faster, Faster, as you touch him.

You love the man. You will keep his heart safe in the roll cage of your ribs if he’ll let you. You will. You promise. You’ll be gentle with it. No more bracing. No more collisions.

“Santiago,” you breathe as you move closer. As close as you can get, in fact, your form pressed up against his, skin to skin. “What do you want, right now?” You speak the words into the junction of his neck, his pulse point throbbing against your wanton lips. “What would make you happy in this moment?”

You feel the deep vibration in his throat as he hums, moans, begs - dumbly - and you know intuitively that he cannot rely on words in this moment either - only on his touch. Can only tell you -show you - what he wants, craves, in the act of reaching for you, his hands finding familiar paths on your skin but walking them in a new way tonight. He reaches for you. Rolls you beneath him in a fluid motion because you yield, already a boneless, molten thing under him.

He touches you. Caresses you. Kisses you. You return it. For a moment you are a mess of ragged breath and sweat and clashing teeth and tangled tongues. Of pads of fingers and brushed cotton and soft heaving moans. And then, his strong arms bracing him over you, Santiago pauses - amidst a breath snatched from your mouth. Pauses just to look at you there beneath him. His eyes flit all over your face, and he huffs out a disbelieving puff of air.

”Holy shit, hermosa.” He looks at you as though you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Perhaps you are. His molten, lust-dark eyes certainly make you believe it.

Still, just before your greedy fingers can wind up and over, brushing over the prickle of short, buzzed hairs at the nape of his neck to drag his mouth back over yours, Santiago shifts, his kiss eluding you.

Santiago has always had the map to your heart, and as his fingers trail so confidently down your skin, his lips working down the column of your throat, your breasts, your puffy nipples, stubble grazing you, you think that maybe, finally, he is following it home. Your bodies always were symbiotic; moving, fighting, then fucking as a team. He already knows as well as you do that your bodies, the cartography of your love, is a terrain which can be best understood by traversing it. That touch is the language you share. That you were always fluent in. This time, it is not a touch borne out of jealously or frustration or anger. It is not half-hearted or contingent. It is beautiful and joyful and giving. It is soft and attentive and God he’s never felt so good.

You expel a breathy, silent moan - a plea really - as Santiago presses his body up against yours, his knee nudging to kick open your thighs. His hips dipped to grind his clothed erection into your heat. Your skin heats, desire curling in the pit of you and you kick away the covers, his warmth more than enough now. With a gust of air, a show of restraint - you swear he’s so desperate for you he could have dry-humped you through his clothes - Santiago manoeuvres his sweat pants off of him, and when he settles in position again he is bare and warm and hard against your slick.

“Are you-? Do we need-?”

“-I’m protected,” you answer as his muscled form braces over you, his strong arms boxing you in, the tip of his nose nudging yours, his thighs between your parted legs as the straining mass of his arousal glides over your folds. You wrap your legs and arms around him, holding him tightly, your nails tracing lovingly up and down the canopy of his broad shoulders. Twining into the mess of damp curls on top of his head. You feel the press of his soft stomach against yours. The heat of him everywhere.

His lips meet yours desperately then, his mouth so needy for yours you could swear his lower lip is trembling as he opens up to shove his tongue over yours. “Baby,” he asks, wracked by need already, his brow burdened with the weight of it and his words barely intelligible. “Are you ready for me? I need you, querida.”

“You’ve got me,” you soothe. “But I… I want you like this.” He looks surprised for a moment as gently, you guide him on to his back, rolling yourself on top of him until you’re straddling his meaty thighs. You take control away from him and for a moment, you can see he feels the loss of it. That he seems vulnerable, unsure. That while he had clearly intended to give into you, fully, that doesn’t mean it’s at all easy for him to surrender. “Just lie back and let me take care of you, okay?”

His eyes lock on to yours, soft and uncertain, and it occurs to you again that you’ve never taken him like this. That he has always tacitly taken control. That he has always focussed on your pleasure as paramount. His words, whispered against your skin, into the shell of your ear - that’s it, princesa, right there, huh? - still echo in the depths of you. And now, you want to focus on him. Tonight, things are different.

You feel desire twist in the pit of you as you look at him all spread out beneath you like this. Evidently needy for you, his cock rock hard and nestled against his stomach. You want to keep him on the edge for hours. Want to hear gruff moans unspooling from deep in his chest. Want to see his fingers rake through the sheets and his jaw tipping to the sky as he writhes his curls back into the pillow, eyes rolling to oblivion.

You want to kiss him, everywhere. Want to smooth your hands over his brown skin until he melts into the mattress. You want to cover him with your body until he feels safe.

You want him to feel safe.

As you examine his form, already near boneless on top of the mattress but reaching for you - reaching with his fingers, with a jut of his chin to raise his pretty mouth, with a buck of his hips to chase your friction - you settle for a compromise. A balance of your urges to demolish and exalt him.

For a moment then, you even entertain the idea that you can exhibit restraint enough for foreplay. To tease him. To drag this out. Indeed, Santiago whimpers, an uncharacteristic sound from a man too stubborn to ever admit defeat, and with the sound, your stomach lurches with want. He grows entirely needy as you suckle at his neck, leaving purple love bites in your wake.

You shuffle your hips down his sturdy thighs so that you can fold to slide your tongue over his pecs, circling his pebbled nipple, beginning to trail your warm, wet mouth down his abdomen in a way that makes his glistening cock -wet with your juices- twitch on air.

“Please. Goddamn,” he begs already, his thighs shaking beneath you, and you don’t need to be told twice. You want the thick, needy, ruddy length of him inside of you as badly as he appears to want that too.

You’ve waited long enough for this. To hold him so completely and to love him with your whole body.

And so, you shift up until your slick arousal settles over the hot, straining mass of him. It’s slippy - you’re so wet already, and the contact earns a deep, guttural noise from him.

Then, as you settle in position, automatically - more than automatically, like it’s preordained - Santiago’s hands settle at your hips the moment you are on top of him. They rest in that familiar place he loves to hold, fingers splaying, pads digging into your supple flesh. He grips you in his broad, lethal hands.

Hands that were trained to kill but made to hold you tenderly; just like this, you think.

He holds you, and ever so suddenly everything falls into place. As though you were lost all of this time and you have finally found where you were supposed to be. Like someone just handed you a map and assured you you can never lose your way again - not now that you’ve found him. Not as long as you hold on and don’t let go.

You look down at him, your whole world beneath you and Christ, he’s usually beautiful - luminescent even - but you’ve never seen him look quite like this before. He looks… undone. Unguarded. Needy. Dishevelled. Vulnerable. His lust-blown eyes are blackened with desire yet shining too with adoration. His lids are heavy. Screwing shut as you glide yourself along his shaft. Gusts of breath coming from the circle of his soft, plush lips. That stubbled jaw raising, tipping up as his crown of lustrous curls beds down into the pillow. Light and shadow pooling and dancing and swimming in the contours of him - his sharp nose and heavy brows and sculpted chest. All that and more; but the true beauty?

The true beauty is when his eyes flutter open once more; and you clearly see the eyes of your best friend looking back at you.

You see him all at once, rather than the parts of him he’s attempted to compartmentalise.

Emotion and desire twist in your gut and all you want in that moment is to show him. To show him that he’s loved.

He’s so, so loved.

And so are you.

You hinge at the hips, your head falling to the side of his, temple to temple, cheek to cheek, his stubble rough against you. His familiar scent, woody and citrus, fills your lungs. You feel his brow against yours is already slick with a sheen of sweat as you dip your mouth towards the shell of his ear. “Are you ready?”

His voice is hoarse. He is levelled by his want, but his face still cracks with a smile, the muscles in his cheek shifting against yours and the rake of his stubble conveying heat all the way to your core. “Are you kidding? I know you didn’t miss this.”

He plants his feet and bucks his needy shaft against you with greater pressure, the head of him pressing at your swollen clit, gliding over it. You moan at the unexpected zip of pleasure, blooming out from your centre to every extremity, and you feel Santiago’s dirty, satisfied chuckle vibrate through you, chest to chest.

His chuckle quickly digresses to a moan as you return the favour just as suddenly. As you rise slightly on your thighs, until you are able to grip his aching shaft in your hand and notch him in position, your folds caressing the blunt head of him. His grip on your hips tightens as you lower yourself on to him, feeling how he spreads you open as his girth pushes past your entrance with a thick, hot glide.

Santiago chokes as he bottoms out, and you can feel him throb and pulse in your centre as he adjusts to the sensations.

You feel full of him. Full in every sense.

Fuck. You didn’t know. You didn’t know it could feel like this with him. Light. Playful. Delicate. Joyful. Beautiful.

“Fuck, hermosa,” Santiago keens as you begin to move, folding over him once again, covering him with your body, your thighs enclosing his ample hips and your forearms planted, bracing yourself against the cushioning either side of his head.

It feels soft and syrupy as you enclose him in your wetness. Sweat beads and gathers between your bodies as you undulate and rise and fall on him, the slow, sensuous drag of you causing him to bite down into the meat of your shoulder, his breath hot as it billows into the hollow of your collarbone.

Santiago clings to your hips for a moment, an admirable attempt to guide your motions - until it all becomes too much. Until he surrenders fully and lets you lead. His hands first fist into the sheets at his side, and then they wrap around your back, coming to rest there, his fingers intermittently dancing over your skin. For once, his embrace is not a desperate thing. He’s not attempting to pull you closer or to push you away. He simply wants you exactly where you are. Exactly like this.

It’s tender, the way he’s touching you. The way he’s trusting you and letting you set the pace. The way he kisses a string of pearls along your skin, the wet, percussive sounds filtering down to your bones. It makes you feel some kind of way, so you try desperately to focus on the sensations his friction is stoking in your centre. In the way the glide and drag and pressure of him inside of you is causing a steady, building, eddying ball of light to hover in the core of you, getting ready to burst out and fill your whole body with sunshine.

It has felt dark, sometimes, to love him. But right now? It feels like dawn.

You screw your eyes shut against the dam of emotion breaking within you. Against the tears threatening to spill over. You distract yourself from feeling too much all at once, planting kisses along the length of his beautiful, sculpted jaw. By devouring his mouth the way one would savour a feast. Slowly. Intentionally. Your tongue, ever so deliberate against his.

“Fuck,” Santiago curses, his voice trembling. “You’re dripping all over me. Jesus fucking Christ.”

You are. You can hear it. Feel it. This pooling slick between your legs being worked out of you. Coating him. Making everything smooth and fluid and easy, after so long with such friction between you.

You ride him like this, communing with grunts and moans. Communing with his body, which you read so well. So automatically. You know what each shift and expression passing over his face means. You understand the tightening of his thighs beneath you. You can read his breath, his touch, his sounds, his movements, and you relish in the ways that you know him. All the ways you know how to make him feel good.

You kiss a bead of sweat from his temple, the salt flooding your tongue as you rise up on him, lifting your body away from his to let the cool air soothe your heat-pricked skin. Relishing the look and feel of him beneath you. Relishing the way he drinks the sight of you in too with a slack-jaw, watching the way your hips work over him. The way your breasts bounce and sway lightly with the motion. You shift your angle slightly, until a long, gritted exhale unspools from Santiago’s plush mouth, his pretty eyes fluttering shut and his grip on your hips unwavering but weakening.

“That’s it. Right there? Just like that?”

“Uh. Uh huh,” he replies through gritted teeth, his expression looking pained as he tries to work through it. “Holy shit, baby.”

You beam a devilish smile down at him until his eyes spark with mischief, and your core clenches on his dick as you watch him swipe the pad of his thumb over his pink, supple tongue, liberally gathering spit. He reaches for you, rubbing the pad of him gently against your clit.

“Good?”

Good? Yeah. Good enough to make your toes curl and your legs weaken beneath you. Good enough that you can scarcely continue your ministrations, your body sagging forward again, slumped almost boneless over him.

“Tired?” Santiago asks you, and you stubbornly answer no despite the burn and tremble in your spent thighs. He sees right through it. “Let me flip you over?”

Reluctantly you concede and he rolls you, carefully, staying inside of you and never breaking contact. Settling your back against the mattress and his sweat-sheened body over you like a canopy. Like safety.

He kisses you - deeply.

He thrusts himself inside of you, the noises between your bodies obscenely wet by now, his grunts and groans percussive as he continues to stoke that white hot ball of light in your middle.

He has never rocked you like this. So tenderly. So reverently. Slow and sure. Not racing towards any ending. He makes love to you as though he’s not afraid of any kind of ending at all. Like this perfect moment can just stretch on forever. Like he can always be buried inside you.

You, though? You are still afraid of that ending.

It feels good. God. It feels impossibly good to be held by him like this; but it’s bittersweet. Bittersweet enough that you still have to screw your eyes shut against the flood of emotion you are continuing to hold back behind that dam.

Santiago’s lips graze your cheek, a softly planted, lingering kiss. “Hermosa,” he encourages. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” you admit, and you feel a sting of prickled heat beneath your eyelids. You feel vulnerable, exposed, in a way you’re not used to either. You feel like you want to run, but you know now. That never did very much good.

“Look at me,” he insists, his voice soft and smooth, no sand left in his throat. So you do. You trust him. You follow him. Walk with him, like you’ve been on the same road all along, each without a map.

You don’t know what you expect to see when you open your eyes, but all you do see is his gaze fall softly on yours, even as he fills you. You see him as a friend and a lover. You see him as everywhere you’ve been and everywhere you’re going. He’s a landscape, and his whole being is expansive and opened up to you.

He fucks into you, his pace consistent and steady, and he plants intermittent kisses over your cheeks, scattering them into your hairline, your neck, the corner of your mouth. That ball of light inside you tightens, shrinking down, and you know it’s getting ready to burst. To radiate out into every extremity.

You feel like you’re heavy and weightless at the same time. Like you’ve sunk so far into the mattress that you’re inches below it. Like you’re floating up to the ceiling. “It f-feels too g-good,” you stutter, your voice mere breath.

It does - feel too good. Not just the sensations, but him. The familiarity and safety of him feels too perfect to risk never having this again.

Your eyes roll back into your head as Santiago keeps hitting that spot deep inside of you over and over, pleasure sparking and sizzling, white hot. “It’s okay, querida. I got you. Just keep looking at me. I got you.”

You wrap him up like the gift he is, your legs folding around him, the tender soles of your feet settling on to his plush ass cheeks. Your arms winding around his middle, tightening, drawing him to you. Drawing him so close to you that you can’t look at him anymore, his head buried into the junction of your shoulder, his curls tickling your cheek. You draw him close enough that there is no space between your writhing bodies. So close that you don’t know where he ends and you begin, a mess of breath and sweat and limbs like twined dense jungle.

I love you.

I love you is what you want to say. I love you too is what you want to hear back from him - but your mouth makes the shape of some different words instead. “I don’t want to lose you.”

It’s a broken, laid-bare plea. It’s what all this comes down to, isn’t it? You can’t fathom losing him. Can’t fathom being without him.

“Cariño,” Santiago speaks against your neck, his lips sliding hot and wet down the column of your throat. “I’m never lost when I’m touching you.”

It’s not what you wanted to say. It’s not what you wanted to hear. But you realise, in that moment, as Santiago moves his mouth to meld desperately with yours. As a lone tear sluices over the bridge of his strong nose. You realise that the words each of you spoke mean the same damn thing anyway.

His tongue shoves unceremoniously over yours then, Santiago coming undone now, ragged and frayed like an edge of land as you wash over him, flooding him with liquid. He opens you up, everywhere. The cave of your mouth, your weeping cunt, your heart breaking open like dawn.

You moan and he punches your name from his lungs as his hips stutter into you. His thrusts become sloppy but he keeps consistent pace long enough to tip your pleasure over the brink. For you to come undone, a star bursting from your middle, light pulsing out to every extremity and sending jittering aftershocks through your body. You clamp down on him, hold him close to you as you ride it out, your head buried in the crook of his shoulder, his creamy load pumping into you, deep and urgent, and his disbelieving, wracked moans sounding in the shell of your ear.

You convulse on him, squeezing every last drop from him, your legs quivering.

You cling to him. Cling to him for dear life as your pleasure swells and breaks and ebbs and flows.

In turn, Santiago comes down with a shudder, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths above you. Eventually, he slips out of you, wordlessly, his eyes shining still with unwaning, transparent adoration. He kisses you, everywhere. Puts his hands on you. He laves his tongue over you in gratitude. He kisses every crook and peak and contour and valley of you. He kisses your scars, his mouth curved with a smile the whole while. He applies love across the cartography of you, of your life together. He presses his lethal hands to you and he kills you; softly. Gathers you up to him.

It is then, in this moment of impossible tenderness, that your tears find their release.

It floods you. All the times you’ve almost lost him. All the times you should have been holding each other close instead of pushing each other away. All the times you should have been cherishing this beautiful, fragile thing between you instead of fearing it.

You let the tears eke out; but then Santiago kisses them away too, concern shimmying in his molten eyes.

In this moment, you feel that he’s loving you how he’s always wanted to love you. Showing you what he’s always wanted to show you.

And then, something else slips out of you. “I love you.” Your voice is small. Afraid. Even now.

But this time, Santiago does not hesitate. “I love you too.”

A few more tears fall. You would like to believe they are happy tears, but you still somehow feel that they are bittersweet.

Wordlessly, Santiago shifts you, gently, bundling you up against his warm, sturdy chest.

You listen to his heartbeat thudding in the shell of your ear, noticing it gradually slow.

You let him trace idle shapes into your skin.

Let him hold you close, until he stills. Until his breathing is so soporific that you wonder if he has succumbed to sleep.

“You still awake?” You venture.

“Yeah.”

“We made a mess.”

“I know. But it’s okay. I put you in the wet patch.”

The laugh that escapes you is unexpected. Shifts some of the heaviness in your chest. You bat him playfully in the pec, tweaking his nipple for good measure. “You’re a bastard, Garcia.”

You think his throaty, reciprocal laughter is the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

You shift back just a little, enough to look up at his face. His teasing grin slips effortlessly into something far softer and more earnest when he’s looking at you.

“Come here,” he proposes softly, guiding you up. Leading you back into the shower. You follow him. You follow him though he never would seem to follow you anywhere.

Still, you push all that away, in favour of the here and now. With him looking at you like that, what else is there?

And so, you let yourself enjoy it. You enjoy it as he playfully tweaks your nipple in return and you giggle. As he wraps his arms around you from behind and your fingertip draws a tentative heart in the steamed-up mirror. As he leads you into the cubicle with him, beneath the spray of warm water.

As you step beneath the stream with him, his fingers twined with yours, you realise that he’s taking you all over again. Making you his, but not by fucking - no. This time, he’s taking you with his soft eyes. With the way his soaped hands move with reverence over your slick body, reluctantly washing the traces of him away from your skin. With the way his mouth moves languidly against yours - and he tastes of soap but you don’t care. He’s taking you. Piece by piece. Taking you until there’s nothing left. Until your heart has migrated little by little, bit by bit, into the roll cage of his chest. Gently, this time - as though for once he might even keep it safe.

You dry off together, and you settle back on to the bed.

Already, you can feel Santiago packing this away.

Putting his heart back inside his chest like a folded map.

You drag his lips to yours and you kiss him. You’re not sure if you’re trying to kiss him to death or kiss him to life; but you know that you have to kiss him with everything you’ve got regardless.

You know that you have to beg him, without words. With touch. The language you two have always shared, your bodies moving symbiotically through this world, as a team - no matter the distance between you. One of you incapable of being read without the other.

You know that you have to beg him.

Stay.

Stay; ‘til the sun comes up.

Stay; forever.

For every new day.

He could never run towards you, he insists. Not yet. So, instead, you reach for him, your arms wide open. You soften your lethal hands. You relax that killing grip. You make him feel safe. Feel loved. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, if only he would let you try.

“Turn over,” you whisper, with a soft curl of your lips, and he does so. He lets you wrap him in your arms, chest to his back, and he hums - a low, resonant sound - as you plant a lingering kiss to the back of his neck. You stay like that, until the both of you fall asleep.

It turned out to be a beautiful night. The most beautiful night of your life, in fact, with the person you love most in all the world. You held him all night. Kept him safe and warm.

But, when you wake up, you feel only cold air at your back. Cold sheets under your palm as you reach for him.

Maybe he did stay, at least until the sun came up. But now, he is gone.

In truth though, you’re not even upset. At least, maybe… you’re not even surprised.

He’d promised you something that didn’t feel like an ending. He’d given you that, but in many ways it had still felt like a goodbye.

At least this time, you had said the kind of goodbye you would have wished for. Not an angry, bitter thing. At least this time, you did all you could to let him know how you feel, in all the ways you know how.

You sit up on the edge of the bed, and you tug in a long slow breath, releasing it into the quiet solitude of the room.

Is it true that there are some people who you can only ever love in fragments?

You don’t know, honestly. For now, you only know that you feel broken into pieces too.

It always hurts when you say goodbye to him, doesn’t it?

At least this time, it was a more beautiful thing; just like he’d promised, right?

And, as you stand and move to begin your day, you remind yourself that he hadn’t promised you any more than that.

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #ride or die series #santiago pope garcia

100 notes · View notes

fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year

Note

Congratulations on the new milestone, my dear Scarlet! For the celebration, I want to ask Spencer x Reader with Home by Goo Goo Dolls (I adore this song!). Love you!

Hello lovely! I originally had this written and queued to post but 12 hours later I decided I hated it. I adore you and your writing and you deserved better, so this my second attempt! Also I had an urge to write a 5+1 fic.

Send me a song lyric from my list to celebrate my follower milestone 🎵

Home

Gif does not depict the appearance of the reader.

Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary - The five times Spencer took you home and the one time he needed you to return the favour.

CW - drinking, drunk reader, vague hint at a spicy activities but nothing explicit, slight argument, break up, mentions of the Lynch case and hospitals, make ups.

WC - 4.3k

One

The aggressively roaming rainbow coloured lights that revolved around the room, lighting up previously dark corners at a moments notice.

The heavy thrumming of the bass-heavy music that shook the walls and vibrated the floor, up through the soles of his feet and into his bones.

The thick crowds of sweaty, inebriated bodies constantly bumping into one another, bumping into him and encroaching dangerously on the germaphobe's personal space.

The expensive cover charge and even more extorinante drink prices which made him glad for once that he didn’t drink.

The constant goading from his friends to loosen up and have some fun, or at least try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.

Those were just five of a hundred reasons that Spencer Reid deplored clubs.

Usually he would avoid them like the plague, but tonight it was Emily’s birthday and she’d all but demanded he come along with the rest of the team.

A crowded room full of empty faces. Conversations filled with lies. Another night with all his friends, wondering if they saw through his thinly veiled disguise.

He clung to the sidelines like the wallflower he was and after a socially acceptable amount of time had passed, he offered his apologies to the birthday girl and said goodbye.

And that could have been the end of his night.

Pushing open the front door he sucked in a huge breath of fresh air the second his feet hit the pavement. The air in the club had been stifling, alcohol mixed with perspiration had overwhelmed his fragile senses.

He felt dirty. He needed to go home and take a long, hot shower.

But as he turned to head down the street, conveniently Emily had chosen a club just a few blocks from his apartment, he stopped in his tracks when he found a body slumped on the ground.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He was an FBI agent and he was also a gentleman and he couldn’t in good conscience leave a woman alone like this.

No matter how much he wanted to go home.

He cautiously stepped closer to the woman, who was leaning against a wall, legs drawn up for which a head rested upon. It didn’t take a genius to figure the woman was drunk.

“Excuse me, miss? Uh, are you ok?” He asked with a frown as he approached.

Your head snapped backwards, narrowly avoiding slamming into the wall and you looked up at him with large, misty eyes.

“Hmm? Me? I’m fine.” You nodded, proffering your hands towards him. “Little help?

Spencer rolled his lip between his teeth, wanting to avoid any more unnecessary contact with strangers tonight but you clearly needed help.

Somewhat reluctantly he reached out and took hold of your hands, pulling you to your feet with absolutely no help on your part.

You stumbled a little but managed to correct yourself before Spencer had to intervene. You looked up at him through your lashes, the moonlight overhead reflecting on your irises.

“You’re really pretty.” Your lip quirked into a smile and Spencer’s stomach coiled into knots.

He’d been thinking the exact same thing about you.

“Uh, thanks?” He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Where do you live? I can get you a cab?”

“Oh, you know.” You shrugged, wobbling on your feet.

“No, no I don’t. We just met, remember?” He was frowning up as your eyes cast up and down the street as if you were searching for your own home.

“Around here somewhere. I think.” You nodded, but then added, “where are we?”

Spencer exhaled between parted lips, knowing he couldn’t leave you to fend for yourself. And despite his better judgement, he spoke anyway.

“I live round the corner, you can crash at my place until you sober up.”

“You’re going to take me home, pretty boy?” You winked suggestively at him and he couldn’t help the way he felt his crotch stir.

“Not like that!” He quickly shook his head. “I just…just come with me.”

It was slightly concerning how easily you followed a complete stranger home. Maybe he’d have to give you a lecture on the dangers of it in the morning.

But for now, you slung your arm around his waist, something he would normally hate but found he rather enjoyed when you did it, and he led you home.

***

Spencer slept on the couch and let you take his bed with very little protest from you. He was already awake and reading a book when you emerged wearing nothing but an old t-shirt of his he’d lent you last night.

You were squinting against the onslaught of light in the room, hand cradling the side of your head. Your eyes landed on him and your eyebrows knitted together.

“Uh…hi?” You croaked, grimacing in the pain caused simply by speaking.

“Good morning.” Spencer set his book down and got to his feet but he didn’t come any closer to you.

“Did we…?” You trailed off hoping he would catch your drift.

He didn’t.

“Did we, what?”

“Sleep together?”

“What?” He squeaked, his cheeks instantly flushing bright red. “No! You were wasted.”

“That wouldn’t stop most men.” You shrugged sadly.

“I’m not most men.” He shrugged too. “You were drunk and I didn’t want to just leave you on the street so I let you crash here.”

“Wow.” You nodded, eyes sparking a little. “Maybe there are some good guys left in the world.”

“I try.” He shrugged once more.

“What’s your name? I’m sorry I don’t remember.” You padded a little closer to him.

“Oh, we didn’t get around to exchanging names. I was too busy trying to stop you bumping into everything I own.” He offered you a tight lipped smile. “I’m Spencer. Spencer Reid.”

“Y/N.” You stepped closer and when you offered him your hand to shake, he didn’t even think twice about it.

***

Two

“And I realised I hadn’t had company in…five years? So I thought I better at least crack a window.” He was rambling, god help him he was rambling.

You leant against the dining table with an ever growing smirk on your lips as he awkwardly spat out words, clearly not noticing your amusement.

“I guess I should feel privileged?” You cocked your eyebrow at him. “Five years, huh?”

The way in which he said the word company, told you exactly what he meant. Obviously he’d had people around his place, you’d been here not a few months ago yourself.

But he hadn’t had company. Company of a woman in his bed. And as if to prove this, a blush crept up his neck and onto his cheeks which told you the answer before he spoke.

“Yeah.” He chewed on his lip, feeling as though he needed to explain himself. “I throw myself into my work. I’m busy, you know? And even when I’m not I, uh…I’m not very good at talking to women, in case that wasn’t abundantly clear. And women don’t tend to gravitate towards me. So yeah, it’s been five years since I…you know.”

God this was mortifying.

It was your fifth date and the first time he’d invited you over since he’d helped you out when you were drunk. You’d been for dinner and when he’d suggested you come home with him, his intentions had been clear even if he hadn’t meant them to be.

“That’s freaking adorable. I really do feel special.” Your smile grew.

“Adorable? Great, just what every man wants to hear from the woman he wants to…” he trailed off.

“Wants to…what?” You took a step or two closer to him.

“I think it’s safe to say you know exactly what I mean.” His blush deepened with each step closer you got.

“For argument's sake, let’s say I don’t.” You were really close to him now, your arms snaking up and around his neck.

“Come any closer and you’ll likely find out.” He croaked, somehow getting even redder.

You smirked, pushing your body flush against his and quickly ascertaining just what he meant.

He was hard, straining against his slacks and his erection pressed against you now, showing you what he was talking about.

You giggled a little, edging your face closer to his, feeling his breath on your face. Just as you were about to press your lips against his, giving over to the sexual tension between the two of you, you were disturbed by the sound of his phone ringing.

“Goddamnit.” He growled, pulling back from you and fishing his phone out of his pocket. Garcia. “I’ve gotta take this, I’m so sorry.”

Spencer had never cared less about serial killers and murders in his life. He just hoped he would have another chance to take you home.

***

Three

Spencer grumbled as the ringing of his phone roused him from sleep. He was used to it by now, used to work dragging him from his bed in the middle of the night. So he was surprised to say the least when he saw your name on the screen.

He panicked for a second as he brought the device to his ear and answered it.

“Y/N?” He sat up in bed, pulling the duvet up to his chin.

“Hey, Spence.” You replied.

It had been almost a month since work had rudely interrupted your alone time and the two of you hadn’t seen each other since. You’d talked mostly through text but Spencer had started to get the impression he’d blown his chance with you.

“It’s three am, is everything ok?”

“Yeah, I just…can’t sleep.” You shrugged. “I hope it’s ok that I called.”

“Y/N, believe me when I say you could wake me up from half a world away and I’d be grateful.”

“Can I…” you sighed shakily. “Can I come over?”

“Always.” He was quick to reply.

“Ok.” You nodded to yourself. “I’ll be over soon.”

“I’ll be waiting.” He smiled, before hanging up the phone.

***

This time when you came into his home, when you went to kiss him, there was no interruption. In fact there was no intrusion of work calling him all night long.

It gave him the time he needed to worship every inch of you, to show you what a goddess he thought you until the sun was peeking in through the crack in the curtains. It was without a doubt the best night of Spencer’s life and by the time he was through he never wanted you to leave again.

A house was just four walls but he now realised his home was wherever you were.

At some point that night, somewhere in between the sheets, he gave his heart to you. And he never wanted you to give it back.

***

Four

His apartment had never felt more like a home than when you were in it. But even after the night you’d spent together he still felt nervous asking you over.

Maybe he worried that now you’d had sex you would think it was all he wanted from you which couldn’t be further from the truth.

But even still, when he picked you up from work on Friday, one of his rare days off, he felt scared to invite you round.

“So what’s the plan tonight, Doc?” You asked with a bright smile as you slid into the passenger’s seat of his car.

“Uh, I was thinking we could get take out and watch some movies. At my place. If you’d like that? We can go out though, if you’d prefer. I don’t mind.” He smiled awkwardly at you.

“Why would I want to go out when I can have you all to myself at your apartment?” You gave him a mischievous look that caused his pants to tighten.

“You…you really want that?” He swallowed.

“I really want that.” You giggled, patting his knee and sending a jolt of electricity through his whole body. “Come on then Doc, take me home.”

***

Take out and movies quickly became a long forgotten memory when you were climbing into his lap on the couch and stealing his attention away from the TV.

Your knees either side of his thighs, you wrapped your arms around his neck and played with a stand of his curls.

“You really are deliciously pretty, have I told you that before?” You gently rocked back and forth in his lap, feeling him growing aroused.

“The night we met, you called me pretty.” A blush spread to his cheeks.

Was he going to blush every time the two of you started to get intimate?

“Did I?” You laughed. “I can’t say I remember. But you are. Very, very pretty.”

“And you are beautiful, my love.” He whispered, a gentle smile on his lips.

He closed the space between you and kissed you, causing you to hum against his lips, whilst continuing to playfully grind down into his lap.

You didn’t make it to the bedroom, didn’t even remove your clothes. Spencer simply shucked your dress out of the way and moved your panties aside while you moved his slacks just enough for his member to be freed.

By some stroke of luck the BAU didn’t pull a case all weekend and you didn’t leave the confines of his apartment for two full days.

You spent a blissful forty eight hours eating junk food, watching movies and having Spencer read to you along with making love in just about every inch of his abode.

By the time Sunday night rolled around you had to physically drag yourself away from him so you could go back to your own apartment. Spencer was just as reluctant to see you go.

“It’s not the same here without you.” He spoke as you kissed him in his doorway. “It only feels like home when you’re here.”

You agreed wholeheartedly.

You’d fallen head over heels with Spencer in no time at all and being with him in his apartment, you’d never felt more at home.

Maybe one day you’d be able to share it. But for now you had to leave, despite everything inside of you begging you to stay.

***

Five

Between both of your busy work schedules, it left little time for the two of you to be together. Every time Spencer was dragged away on a case he missed you more than the last, usually less than a hundred miles from you but feeling like a million.

You spoke on the phone whenever he was away, the shattered light transmitting your voice but being so far away, you sometimes didn’t have a choice. All you wanted was for him to come take you home again.

After weeks of missing each other, whilst working a local case, he received a phone call from a number he didn’t recognise. He’d been staring at a map pinned to the board in the round table room at Quantico well into the early hours of the morning, when the phone buzzed in his pocket.

It was your best friend, he’d heard a lot about her but never met her. It had instantly sent up a red flag which was warranted because she went on to tell him you were drunk and refused to go home unless Spencer was the one taking you.

Emily had been extremely gracious and let him go, he thanked her profusely as he’d run out of the door. He drove downtown as quickly as he could to the bar your friend had told him you were at.

On arrival you had thrown yourself in his arms, giggling wildly and repeating in a slurred voice, you came, I knew you would. Come take me home, Spence.

It wasn’t until the morning that you regretted this decision entirely.

Much like that first morning you found Spencer on his couch and your head throbbed angrily. He looked much less awkward than he had that first time though, if you weren’t mistaken you would think he looked annoyed.

He stood up and exhaled noisily through his nose and shook his head a little.

“I was at work.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Right in the middle of trying to catch an unsub who is terrorising DC. You can’t…you can’t have your friends call me when I’m working, Y/N. I shouldn’t just leave my team in the middle of a case to come and pick you up when you’re drunk.”

“They’re always going to come first, aren’t they?” You surprised him with your words.

“What? Who?”

“Serial killers. Your team. I barely see you because you’re always working.”

“You knew what I did for a living before we started dating. My job is my life.” He shrugged.

“And there’s no room in that life for someone else.” Your lip quivered slightly.

“I didn’t say that.” He dropped his arms to his sides.

“You didn’t need to.” You whispered. “I don’t think this is going to work out, Spencer. I need more from a relationship than you can offer.”

“No, don’t say that.” He whined. “Please, please don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry.” You shrugged sadly. “I am crazy about you Spencer, but when I love someone I love them with my entire being, they become my whole world. And I have to be theirs too.”

“You…you love me?” He gasped slightly, feeling his chest tighten.

“Of course I do.” You sniffed.

“I love you too, Y/N. You are my whole world.” He took a few steps towards you but you held your hands up to stop him coming too close.

“No, Spencer. The BAU is your whole world. I’m sorry, I have to go.” You moved past him hurriedly towards the front door.

“Y/N, please don’t do this.” He tried to reach for you but you slipped by him. “Y/N!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You sobbed as you threw the door open and fled.

Spencer stared at the closed door, eyes welling with tears. He stumbled a little, before collapsing on the couch.

The walls of his apartment felt like they were closing in on him, making the already small room feel tinier under the weight of your absence.

For a while these walls had started to feel like a home. But now you’d left it was nothing but bricks and mortar.

***

One

Months passed and you ignored every single one of Spencer’s phone calls. And he felt utterly lost without you.

He threw himself into his work more so than ever, getting a little more invested in the Lynch case than he needed to.

When he’d sent up the order for the cops to breach the house, his head hadn’t been clear and as such he hadn’t figured it out until it was too late.

As the explosion sounded all around him and he flung backwards to the concrete, his mind was still awash with thoughts of you.

And he’d know when he hit the floor, debris raining down around him.

He’d known when he’d collapsed after returning to his apartment and started convulsing.

He’d known when he’d woken up in hospital and you weren’t there by his bedside like he wished you were.

He’d known when Emily came to visit him, exactly what he needed to do.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” She smiled sadly at him as she meandered to his bed.

“Kinda like I got blown up.” He shrugged. “I’m ok, or at least I will be. I, uh, I realised something. Just as the explosion went off and I was sent flying, I realised something.”

There was a calmness about him that Emily didn’t think she’d ever seen on him. He looked at peace, eerily content.

She took hold of his hand, already knowing exactly what it was he was going to say.

“You’re leaving the BAU, aren’t you?” She whispered.

“How’d you know?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I just do.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You seem like a man who’s come to terms with a really hard decision, but one that you feel lighter for making.”

“I hate it when you profile me.” He rolled his eyes playfully.

“It’s not profiling, it’s just knowing my friends.” She chuckled. “So what’s her name?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t even think about lying to me, Reid. For a while you were happier than I’d ever seen you. And then the last few months you’ve been struggling. You met someone and presumably it ended because of the job? Now that’s profiling.” She smirked.

“One of the many reasons I am not going to miss you guys.” He joked. “Her name is Y/N and you’re spot on. Emily, does it make me a complete idiot for giving up my life’s work for a shot at love?”

“Not at all.” She was quick to answer. “You’ve been through a tremendous amount of trauma in your life, Spencer. It’s about time you got some sunshine after so many years of black clouds. As long as you think she’s worth it, it’s not stupid at all.”

“She’s…” he sighed contentedly trying to think of the right way to word it and only coming up with one simple term to describe you. “She’s like coming home.”

“I’m happy for you.” She gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go. “The doctor said you should be discharged tomorrow. I’ll make sure someone’s here to pick you up.”

“Thanks Emily. I’ll bring my badge and firearm back once I’m back up on my feet.”

“No rush. Get some rest.” She smiled as she left the room, already pulling her phone from her pocket and dialling a familiar number.

Penelope Garcia answered on the second ring.

“How is he?” She hurried to ask.

“He’s good, on the mend.” Emily nodded to herself. “I need you to find a number for me Penelope and I need you to not ask me why.”

***

The following day Spencer was discharged but no one had to come to his room for him.

He dressed in the clean clothes JJ had dropped by last night and signed his hospital papers just as his phone chimed within an incoming text.

📱 Emily Prentiss: Your ride is waiting for you out front. Time to go home.

He frowned at the slightly cryptic message as a nurse came in with a wheelchair to take him downstairs.

He tried to fight it but he didn’t have the energy and so, despite the fact it made him feel feeble, he allowed her to wheel him out.

In the elevator, he sent a reply to Emily.

📲 Any hints as to who I’m looking for?

No sooner had he hit send, a reply came in.

📱 Emily Prentiss: Nope. All I’ll say is: you’re welcome.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on it as soon the elevator reached the ground floor and he was being wheeled out into the parking lot.

It was a good job he was sitting down because when he spotted you standing a little awkwardly by your car, his legs immediately started to tremble.

You spotted him and offered him a shy wave as the nurse took him over. When they reached you, she helped him out of the chair and handed him his duffel bag but was soon leaving again.

Spencer regarded you curiously as you toyed with your hands in obvious discomfort.

“Emily called you.” He smiled apologetically at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t ask her to.”

“I know, she said you had no idea and that you’d probably kick her ass if you did.” A smile played on your lips. “I can’t imagine you kicking anybody's ass.”

“No, but I seem to continually getting mine kicked.” He gestured vaguely to his injuries.

“She told me what happened. Are you ok?” Concern laced your words.

“I will be.” He nodded. “I really am sorry she dragged you here. I can get a cab.”

“Spencer?” You stepped closer to him, gnawing on your lip. “Did you leave the BAU because of me?”

“Yes.” He nodded. “I mean also, it was time. I’m getting older and I can’t keep winding up in hospital beds. But ultimately, losing you was worse than losing my job. And it might be too little too late but I am choosing you. If you’ll still have me.”

You tilted your head to the side a little, reaching out your hands and taking hold of the lapels of his shirt. You took a second to just breathe him in, relish in the moment of being reunited with the only man you’d ever truly loved.

“Spence, I have done nothing but miss you for months. I never expected you to quit the BAU, I just wanted to know you saw me as a priority. And I see now that you do. I love you and I am also choosing you.”

“Oh thank god.” He breathed out heavily, chuckling as he did so. “I love you so much.”

With that you drew him closer by his collar and slammed your lips against his. His arms immediately wrapped around you, holding you close and afraid to ever let you go too far again.

The kiss was tender and loving, all your feelings for one other being spoken silently against each other's lips.

When you pulled back, he stroked back your hair and he was giving you the kind of smile that could light up the whole damn world.

“So where’d you wanna go, Doc? My place or yours?”

“How about we go to my place? Only from now on we call it our place?” He knew it was soon, probably way too soon. He could have very well ruined things again before they had a chance to begin. “I tried to be so strong, but you see the cracks. My defence is gone. I want to take you home for good.”

His house was just four walls. It wasn't a home unless you were there.

Slowly your lips curled up into a smile, one that reached all the way to your eyes.

“Sounds good to me.” You nodded, placing another chaste kiss to his lips. “Come take me home, Doc.”

#milestone celebration #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

403 notes · View notes

cosmal · 1 year

Text

𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 — 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

note — this is for @sparklingsin spookinktober!! it was queued to be posted on halloween but tumblr deleted it!! so I had to rewrite it :((( so I'm sorry that this is so late and so terrible!! I tried my best to rewrite it like it was fr. i do genuinely hate this now, i’m sorry.

summary — eddie comes back after a week and sees you in your angel costume. he has to fuck you right then and there.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, smut, mdni, piv, fingering, needy!reader

wc — 1.8k

“Steve, have you seen Eddie yet?” You stand on your tiptoes to get closer to his face, leaning over the breakfast bar that separates the two of you.

Steve probably yells too eagerly. The music is loud, but you’re not exactly far away, “Y/N like I said fifteen minutes ago, he’ll be here at 9 o’clock.”

“What’s the time?” You laugh. Winding Steve up is always fun.

Steve sighs like he’s annoyed. You know he’s really not, “8:45.”

“Awesome. I’m gonna go sit on the couch until he gets here.” You tell him before spinning on your heels. The feathers of your angel wings tickle his face as you turn and Steve wrinkles his nose.

“I’m sure you will, Y/N!” he calls before you turn the corner.

And you do exactly that. You’ve waited for Eddie to get back all week, what’s fifteen more minutes? By the time Eddie arrives, the wiry angel wings on your back have grown a little itchy. You’d take them off if you weren’t excited to show Eddie your costume.

Picking at a loose thread on your frilly, white skirt, you don’t even notice the pair of knees in ripped, black denim, hovering over your own. Eddie leans forward to nudge your leg with his and you startle.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Eddie does that signature smile of his, it almost fries your brain and you forget to react.

“Oh my god, Eds!” It’s a blur of feathers when you leap from the small couch. Pushing your arms over his shoulders and leaning your whole weight into him. He almost topples when he wraps his own arms around your back. “Eddie,”

Eddie’s mouth finds its home in the juncture of your neck like it always does, breathing in your lost scene and pressing his lips to your skin. “Y/N.”

He pulls away, but not before you give him one last squeeze, holding you out at arm's length. “God, baby. You look so fucking hot,” he groans.

You turn your hips until your skirt swishes, “You think?”

Eddie reaches around to fiddle with one of the feathers, smoothing it out between his thumb and pointer. “Shit, yeah.”

“Where’s your costume?” you ask, poking him in the chest until he rocks on the balls of his feet. Heavy boots thump along with the bass of the music.

“I’m in it,” he laughs.

“Yeah?”

Eddie swishes like you did but the only thing that moves is his leather jacket that stiffly flaps around his waist, “Yeah. Your boyfriend.”

You roll your eyes like you’re actually not amused by his answer, “You wear that every day.”

“Well, you haven’t seen me in it for an entire week.” He leans in to peck your cheek. Twice for good measure. You grasp his jacket in firm hands and hold him close.

You hum, “Yeah. Missed you.”

Eddie leans in again to snake his arms around to give your ass a squeeze, bunching your skirt in his hands. You’ve forgotten where you are for a moment when he says, “Wanna show me how much you missed me?”

Pretending to act like you don’t want Eddie more than anything at this moment would be harder than telling him exactly what you want — so you don’t. You run a hand down his chest, over the cotton of his shirt, feeling the bumps and divots tentatively until your reach his waist. Hooking a finger around a belt loop to tug him closer.

“I think I do.” you smile.

Eddie groans, “Shit,”

You can’t even pretend to be surprised at how quickly it takes Eddie to drag you to the nearest bathroom. His insatiable need has you giggling the entire way there. Pushing through strangers and ignoring the pointed look Robin shoots you from the bottom of the stairs.

Once you’re inside, Eddie fumbles with the lock on the door while you tug at his free arm, “C’mon, Eds,” you whine.

Eddie cheers when he gets the door to lock, turning to lift you up and onto the basin. The ceramics are cold where it touches the bare skin on your legs and you gasp. Eddie is quick to catch any noise with his mouth when he leans in to kiss you.

“Fuck,” kiss, “angel,” kiss, “you look so hot.”

Your laughter peels from within you and you’re huffing into his mouth, “I thought I was the one who was supposed to be showing you how much I missed you.”

He pulls away to lift your skirt up so it pools around your waist, tugging your panties down until they stretch over your knees, “Just sit there looking all pretty, that’s enough for me, baby.”

Eddie lets you do as you please, placing a firm grip to stable yourself on his shoulders when he traces the tip of his finger up your slit. Grazing down to your entrance to gather the slick that’s already begun to pool on the counter.

“So messy,” he coos, exploring with his finger to push through your pudgy folds, “Missed this pussy, angel.”

You lean forward to press the top of your head into his shoulder, wrapping a hand around his bicep. When he finally slips a finger inside you, you let out the tiniest gasp and your hand tightens in its grip until the leather of his jacket squeaks.

You angle your head up to leave a line of lazy kisses along his neck. Your hot breath and tiny gasps are a whisper against Eddie’s skin. He pushes a second finger in, now middle and marriage, and you hiccup against his skin. Eddie pushes in further, determined to get you to make more pretty noises that get him all worked up.

“Eds,” you pant uselessly. More tiny gasps.

“Y/N,” he almost mocks, exploring deeper inside your weeping hole. Slick traces down his palm and threatens to dirty his sleeve. If Eddie has ever cared about that, he’s never shown it.

You rock your hips against the bench to try and get closer to his hand, his palm pushing into your clit. The stickiness of his thumb and pinky thudding against your skin echo in the tiny bathroom.

Eddie can sense your neediness, “Slow down, baby.”

You grip the hair around the base of his neck which only causes him to groan out. “Need,” you pant.

“What d‘you need, hmm?” Eddie asks, pulling back to check you over. Using his free hand to brush the hair from your eyes. You blink at him slowly.

“Fuck me, Eddie. Please.” Your eyes are terribly pleading and Eddie stills, deep-seated inside you. “Missed you- need you, Eds.”

Eddie can see you working yourself up and kisses you on the highest part of your cheek. Pulling his hand from you he says, “Yeah? Need my cock?”

“Please.”

“You’re so, very polite,” he coos.

There’s a metal zzz of his zipper unravelling and the shushing of his jeans being pushed down just below his ass, before he’s tugging at his cock with familiarity. A familiarity that has your stomach aching.

Eddie wraps his wet hand around the fat of your thigh to tug you closer to the edge of the basin and you yelp, bracing yourself on his chest.

Once you’re close enough, the ruddy tip of his cock presses into your clit and you jolt, head lulling into the juncture of his neck. Eddie wraps his arms around your back and holds you close, dotting kisses over your clavicle. His teeth scrape and nip playfully until goosebumps raise your skin.

“Ready?” he asks as he runs his cock down your slit to line up with your entrance.

“Uh-“ you stutter, wrapping your legs around his waist, hooking your ankles together, “Uh-huh.”

Eddie sinks in and you have to squeeze your eyes shut. “That’s it,” he groans, breath trembling, “Fuck.”

You squeeze him closer like it’s possible and gasp when the air is forced from your lungs at the proximity. Your hands tremble around stiff leather and your hips ache when he rocks in to the hilt. Filling you completely.

“Ah — Eddie,” you gasp, harder when he’s rocking in stronger.

Eddie starts to move, slow and tentatively, rolling his hips into your wet heat. Spreading your legs further apart and your underwear slips down onto the floor.

“Please,” you plead, “harder.” You dig your knees into his side.

Eddie grips your thigh to hold it up and closer to him and when he feels as if he’s not hitting the right angle, he hooks his arms under both of your legs to lift you from the counter.

Gasping, you sink down onto him, keeping your arms and ankles hooked around his body.

Eddie moves to grasp at your ass, squeezing fat between his fingers to keep you upright. Lifting you up and you help him settle back down until you find a perfect rhythm.

“So,” Eddie grunts, hard to be heard over the sounds of skin slapping and your pitched-up moans. You’re also lucky the music outside is loud enough to muffle anything. “so wet, sweetheart.”

You hum what sounds like an uh-huh, trying your best to meet his movements. Eddie’s grip is tight and it stings. Pain turns to pleasure when he starts to hit the spongy spot deep inside you.

Eddie’s doing his best to fuck you onto him. Especially when your pelvis burns and your arms ache, going limp against his frame.

His grunts mix in with your Ah ah ah’s, Eddie has no free hands to smother your noises so he plants his lips to yours, catching any sounds.

“Eddie,” you say against his lips, hot and wet, “M’gonna…”

“Cum f’me, baby,” he says, speeding up.

When he’s repeatedly hitting your sweet spot at the perfect rhythm, the coil in your core snaps, bleeding through your abdomen until you’re clamping around Eddie—tensing up in his hold.

Weak and panty, Eddie throws you back down to the basin, hips stuttering inside you.

“Fuck, where can I?”

“Inside,” you say. No, beg.

“You sure?” he groans.

You nod your head, clamping your twitching walls around him and that’s all it takes. Dragging, now slowly through your gummy heat, his own cum sobbing from your hole when he’s finished.

He’s pulling out, slowly when he watches your face crumple, keeping your legs hooked around his sides. Placing a wet kiss against your damp hairline, he says, “That was amazing- You’re amazing.”

“I know,” you grin, resting your legs down until your knees click.

“Mmm,” he kisses you again, “M’never leaving for that long, ever again.”

“Never,” you agree.

There’s a beat, that’s not very silent, filled with the party that’s still thrumming. Loud chants and chatter fill the bathroom from the crack under the door.

“We should really go home,” he says.

“I think so,” you hum, “I think I heard about ten people knocking on the door.”

“Shit,” Eddie snorts.

“Shit.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

chanlix-honey · 6 months

Text

The Attention You Deserve (I.N.)

WARNING: smut (+18), pet names, daddy kink, fingering, choking, crying, jeongin being a tease and we’re here for it, (light) degrading,,,meaning MINORS DNI!! Please and thank you!!!

word count: 1.6k

a/n: HAPPY ROCK-STAR DAY EVERYONE!!! In honor of the new album release, I have decided to post the full one shot I teased a few days ago. This is my first skz smut post!! Pls be gentle!

Read at your own risk! Again, minors DNI. Enjoy!

“Let’s play a game, hm?” he pulls off the blanket that’s covering your sex, and your pleasured smell pulsates the room. “Since you wanted to be a bad girl, daddy’s going to correct this for you.” He brings your soaked hands to his mouth to lick the pleasure off of you. “I’m going to give you the night of your life. Maybe even the best. And you’re not going to cum once.” He tugs at your shirt, asking you to take it off. You do so obediently. “Good girl.” He plunges two of his fingers into your wet cunt.

“You obey me—and quickly—daddy rewards you. If you don’t listen..well,” You moan, the length of his fingers not giving you any let up. “I’m thinking of fucking you until I cum. How does that sound my dumb baby?” He chuckles, giving you a sly smile.

You couldn’t help yourself. Jeongin has been coming home from work later and later these days. He does his best to let you know that he and the boys won’t be done for some time, but he is an idol after all. He always has something to do. If it’s not vocals with his teacher and Seungmin, it’s practice with Danceracha, or executing lyrics with Channie-hyung (his favorite nickname for Bangchan, that he has passed down to you. Though he doesn’t like telling him in person).

When you text him throughout the day how excited you are for movie night, he can’t help but feel bad to try and remember the last time you and him spent time together. This would be good to get some of that quality time that you were both missing. And to treat you deliciously tonight. He misses your moans and your pussy, so he hopes to make up for it too. He feels his cock twitch at the thought of being coated in your juices and filling you up. He shakes the thought away to make sure he’s not sporting a hard-on before he goes back to Minho leading practice and replies to you. Be sure to wear that purple lace for Daddy tonight, I want to treat you to dessert…be a good girl and wait for me until I get home to give you the attention you deserve.

And tonight isn’t any different. You order pizza for the two of you once he texts you that he’ll be home in an hour—in hopes that the cheesy dinner arrives just as he does. By the time he comes home, he’s too tired for the weekly rom-com-roasting movie night that you and him had planned. He greets you with a good evening forehead kiss and lets you know that he’s going to take a little nap before you get the movie queued up. You smile at his sweet gesture, but can’t help to notice that your heart pangs at the kiss, disappointed that his lips missed yours.

Thirty minutes pass by. Then an hour. You continue to stare at your phone, as the screen is the only thing illuminating the room. You turned off the tv fifteen minutes ago. The barely-eaten pizza stares at you, as the box is only slightly open. You dejectedly scroll through TikTok, skipping fan edits of your boyfriend performing on the multitude of stages all over the world. You skip all, except one. A fan edit of his teasing lip-licking moments on stage, and the pit of your stomach feels engulfed by the flames of arousal. You let the video play once. Twice. Three times. Before you know it, your fingers are rubbing your clit to the ever-playing fan edit, desperately wishing your hand was his mouth and that teasing tongue.

“Ah, ah, daddy~” you mumble. You wouldn’t dare wake him up with your lewd sounds. Last time you made a mistake—let’s just say you couldn’t get out of bed the next day and a half.

Yet, your voice fails you and you squeak when you accidently pinch your clit, and your body shivers. You choke at your clumsiness and tears roll off your cheeks. Daddy-! You tremble, just about to cum.

Consumed in your pleasure, you don’t hear your boyfriend getting up from bed. He woke up from his nap just before you made the terrible decision to play with yourself. First, he heard you watching tiktoks—specifically the one that aroused you in the first place. And then he heard it again..and again. Like you stopped scrolling. Then, he started hearing your pretty little moans. Once he arrived in the phone-illuminated living room, he put the pieces together. He had actually been standing around watching you as he heard your cute little whimpers begging for a release. It seems that you weren’t as quiet as you thought.

“My, my, babygirl..did the words ‘wait for me’ slip your mind?” you yelp.

Suddenly, you feel one of his hands snake around your chin to tilt in his direction, and the other pinning your wrists away from you—stopping your movements.

Which is what brings you to this point. Him fucking you on his fingers in slow agony. It was supposed to be a night he was meant to take care of you. And you couldn’t wait until you had his full attention? He was not going to let that slide. Instead of giving you pleasure until your release, he had other ideas in mind.

“Y-yes daddy,” you shiver.

“Oh good, you do listen. Now tell me—” he begins, his fingers ever so slowly pump in and out of you, stretching you out.

“—What were you thinking when you stopped on that video darling?” He watches you writhe in pleasure. With your pupils blown, your body twitching in response to his oh so slow movements, and your hands grasping at air—pinned down by his large veiny hands at your wrists—he can’t help but look at you like an angel. How gorgeous you are…he thinks, smirking like the fox he is.

“I was thinking..mmh! About your t-tongue inside me daddy—fuck,” you gasp.

“Go on, princess, tell me how much you need me.” He groans. He can feel pre-cum soaking his sweatpants, his cock throbbing for you, begging to be released from the clothed prison.

“So bad. S-so b-bad. Your p-pretty pussy is aching for your mouth inside me ah~”

“You taste so good, daddy can’t help but to make you feel good to taste more of you..” He gropes your breast in one hand while his mouth is on the other, giving your clothed tits most of the attention—still finger fucking you ever so slowly.

You start to see stars. His fingers in you are already too much, despite the pace. How you’ve missed him touching you like this. But he’s slow. Way too slow. It feels like minutes pass before his fingers slip out again. Every second, you feel less than a milimeter’s worth of his two fingers occupy your gummy walls. Yet, you can’t help but take it all in. You’re drunk on his movements, you’d let him do anything to you at this point.

“You even dressed up in the purple lace I love so much,” he thumbs one of your sensitive nipples for it to perk up, pinching at it slightly. You groan, getting frustrated that you haven’t been able to cum yet.

His thumb grazes your clit. Barely even a graze, it’s almost as if his thumb makes contact by accident. It’s not enough to apply pressure, but enough for you to notice he’s toying with you. Making sure you know he’s doing it on purpose. The fucker. He hears you choke on your own breath every time he gives your clit a little bit of attention.

Jeongin coos, high on your moans. He leans in to you. “You think I wouldn’t notice baby? And now you’re on punishment for playing with daddy’s pussy..do you think I’m an idiot that would let you get away with it, slut?”

Biting between your ear and the skin just below it. “F-fuck…” you groan. He hums in success. He knows how you like to be fucked. Your body is very telling, and your voice lets you down everytime. Every frustrated huff, moan, and whine he takes from you. He’s barely doing anything and you’re already such a mess for him. He’s eager to try more, drunk on your fucked out sounds.

Before you know it, a moan slips out from your lips. “D-daddyyy..” you beg. You feel so close. And then, your body echoes to you. The pit of your stomach begins to tighten and your pussy throbs quickly. Tears brim at your glassy eyes, threatening to roll down. You mewl and moan, unable to control the next words to come out of your mouth. “Please! I c-can’t-t. I can’t I can’t I–” he stops. He removes his slender coated fingers from your tightening hole. A squelching sound fills the room.

Then, your heartbeat slows. You begin to catch your breath. Your tears spill. Your mind is not yet clear, but your senses kick in. You whine the moment you feel your cunt clenching around nothing, and you hear tutting. “My baby’s so close..too fucked to hear what I said, hm?”

You pause. No. No, no, no, no. You scramble to give him an answer quickly after you didn’t respond immediately.

“Daddy…mm..no! N-no I didn’t think—” He interrupts you.

“—Hush hush, it’s ok baby. Too blissed out on my fingers to think quickly.” Tears engulf your eyes, being denied a release.

“I’ll fuck you right to correct this behavior, don’t worry. For now, it’s my turn.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids i.n.#yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin #stray kids #i.n. one shots #chanlix-honey posts #chanlix-honey i.n. posts

145 notes · View notes

callivich · 2 months

Note

Callliii, in spirit of that post floating around, do you know of any scenarios where Lip would be mistaken as Mickey's husband. (almost said wife.) and how that would play out?

Comet! I loved (@whatwouldmickeydo) Leah’s post about this. I think @em-harlsnow did a perfect job of writing what might happen in only you (not your brother) 💖

But I love the idea of this so much so here are some possible other scenarios:

Ian, Mickey, Lip and Tami are doing a big shop at a grocery store. It’s for all the family so Ian and Tami wander off at one point - they’re focused on the lists they’ve written and Lip and Mickey are left standing awkwardly with the shopping cart, Fred sat in the child’s seat. Silence. Annoyance. Both of them hate waiting. Mickey’s curled over the other end of the cart, texting Ian furiously about leaving him here with Lip. Meanwhile, a person passes by and notes the contents of their cart - everyday items and a baby - they decide to compliment this nice couple and their sweet son. It goes badly….

Ian and Mickey have hired Lip to work for their security business. It’s Mickey’s turn to have Lip as a co-worker for the day. They’re first stop is a new business. They’re not that familiar with the security guys and assume Lip and Mickey are husbands because they’ve heard that the security guys are married. Cue horror and disgust.

Liam has a parent teacher night and one of his siblings needs to be there. There’s all sorts of miscommunication and Lip and Mickey both turn up. Whatever. They’ll both go and listen to each teacher tell them how great Liam is. The thing is, Liam has recently written an essay on his family (including mentioning his brother and his brother’s husband) and all his teachers incorrectly assume Lip is Ian. Mickey didn’t think he could hate school any more. But he can.

It’s a night out for Lip, Tami, Ian and Mickey. They start off at a bar, then go to a club, then another club and finally they end up at a gay club. Everyone apart from Lip is drunk. Ian and Tami want to dance so they leave Mickey and Lip at a table. A very confident guy comes up to flirt with Lip who quickly says he’s taken. The guy looks at Mickey who loudly says “not by me he ain’t” with a look of disgust. Lip gets offended. Ian and Tami come back to the table to find Lip and Mickey two seconds away from a fight.

The Gallaghers + Mickey, Sandy and Tami included take a trip to the carnival. Fun! Right? Except for the fact that Ian’s feeling a little sick. Must have been those snacks he ate. He asks Lip to tell Mickey that he doesn’t wanna go on the romantic tunnel of love ride that Mickey’s currently queuing for. Mickey’s phone has died so Ian can’t text. Fuck, ok. So off Lip goes and somehow ends up in the boat with Mickey thanks to the ride attendant who doesn’t believe they’re not a couple. Lip becomes the only person ever to ‘fall’ in to the water of the tunnel of love ride.

#gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #calli talks #prompt

54 notes · View notes

alwaysonthemend · 9 months

Text

Author's Note: Well, I’ve had this one halfway finished for like a week and a half but my stupid laptop broke. Finally got a new one so here we are! I dedicate this fic to @takenbythemadness – your post about Jake seeing a producer flirt with the reader inspired me in the best way. Hope y'all enjoy :)

Content Warnings: Smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, choking, use of vibrator, overstimulation, dom Jakey, sir kink, pussy slapping, face slapping, dirty talk, orgasm denial, edging, passing out. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4470

-----------

Dating Jake Kiszka has been a roller coaster from the start – crazy and unexpected, yet fun and exhilarating all the same. Dating a rockstar comes with its ups and downs, but the two of you have managed to find a wonderful harmony with each other that even an earthquake couldn't shake. Jake makes you feel safe – protected and loved in a way that you’d never gotten to experience before. Jake has never been one for large and loud declarations of love – and he’s told you before that some of his past relationships have suffered because of it. But you have never doubted Jake’s love for you. He shows love in actions; small, little things that show you just how much you mean to him. All those other people that he’s been with in the past just weren’t paying attention.

He tells you he loves you in so many ways you lose count of them. He says it in the way he always makes sure you’re comfortable when the two of you go out. He says it when he always somehow seems to know that you’re feeling insecure or upset and he whispers in your ear how gorgeous you are. He tells you he loves you by sending you flowers to your job if you’ve told him that you’re having a bad day. He tells you he loves you when he buys you things he notices you eyeing in stores that you put back because they’re too expensive. Hell, he tells you every time you get in the car with him and your favorite songs are queued up to play. And of course, every night before the two of you fall asleep, he makes sure that the last thing he whispers to you before he drifts off is “I love you.” In fact, your relationship with Jake has been the best thing that’s ever happened to you. The two of you have a perfect synchronicity with each other – complete understanding of each other’s wants and needs.

Part of that synchronicity between the two of you is the dance that you were currently engaged in with him while he was getting ready for an interview and photoshoot. It’s a game that the two of you have played only a handful of times during your time together – but each one has been more than memorable. You're not really sure what causes it – sometimes it’s you starting it and sometimes it’s him. But it always ends with the same result: Jake fucking you so thoroughly that you can barely walk the next day.

Today is one of those days where that itch settles itself beneath your skin. You need it… badly. And there’s not much that you won’t do to get it. And the opportunity to do just that presents itself in the form of a cute producer who’s on the set today that has been intent on flirting with you from the moment you all stepped through the door. Jake was being forced to do an interview – despite his numerous and spirited protests, and he’d asked you to come with him. You’d agreed, hoping to find a chance to play your game. So, as much as you want to admire how attractive Jake looks in his all black outfit, you instead turn your attention to the cute producer.

“I’m Oliver.” He’d said, giving you a sweet smile as you and Jake had walked in.

“Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You gave him your hand to shake and the grip lingered longer than necessary – and Jake’s dark eyes hadn’t missed it.

“Are you Mr. Kiszka’s assistant?” He asked, completely ignoring Jake as he focused all of his attention on you.

Just as Jake opened his mouth to not-so-kindly let him know who exactly you are to him, you speak up first.

“Yes, something like that.”

Immediately, you see Jake’s shoulders tense and his eyes narrow at you. You just give him a smile and slide past him, just barely brushing your shoulder against his as you pass. Oliver follows you as you take a seat off to the side, in view of where the interview will be taking place. Jake gives you one last sharp look over his shoulder before walking over to sit in front of the camera.

Body thrumming with adrenaline, you turn back to Oliver and give him a smile.

“So what’s your job around here? It seems like it would be fun.” You lean in close to ask the question and give him your best flirty smile. You can see Jake from the corner of your eye, watching your every move.

“Oh, it’s very fun.” Oliver says, obviously happy that you’re engaging with him again, before launching into what he does with the company.

You do your best to listen – occasionally asking questions to keep the conversation going, but your attention is more centered on Jake as he does his interview. He’s giving wonderful and thoughtful answers to each question, but his eyes often sweep over to where you and Oliver are. Tiny glances that aren’t outright enough for others to notice… but you can. You know him too well and you can clearly see that your plan is working. Every so often, just to dig your own grave a little deeper, you reach out to put your hand on Oliver’s shoulder if he says something funny. Your conversation with him is hushed in order to not interrupt the interview, so Jake can’t hear what the two of you are talking about – all he can see is your flirty touches and the love eyes that Oliver is giving to you.

Eventually, your conversation is interrupted when the director loudly announces that the interview portion is over. You glance over to see Jake making his way towards you.

“We’ll need you back here in a moment for some pictures, Mr. Kiszka.” He says, and Jake just gives him a curt nod as he strides over to you and Oliver.

“Hi.” You say, plastering an innocent smile on your face.

“What have you two been talking about over here?” Jake asks, and his voice is laced with faux interest. To Oliver, he seems perfectly normal – but you can see the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“Oh she was just asking me about my job here.” Oliver tells him with a polite smile.

“Wonderful.” Jake says, voice falling a little flatter. “Y/n, can I speak with you for a minute?”

“Right now?” You ask, glancing at Oliver. “We’re kind of in the middle of a conversation.”

Jake’s eyes narrow into dangerous slits and you almost regret your words. There’s no going back on your game now – but the promise of what you know is to come spurs you on even more.

“Right now.” He says coldly.

“We can talk later, Jake.”

Just as he opens his mouth to reply, another set member comes over and saves you.

“Mr. Kiszka? We’re ready for your pictures now. If you could just follow me?”

“Of course.” Jake’s tone is smooth as silk as he turns to leave, but his brown eyes lock onto yours and you can’t look away. They’re ablaze with anger and the parting smile he gives to you and Oliver isn’t convincing at all. You give Jake another sweet smile before turning your back to him, heart pounding. You’ve sealed your fate.

Oliver quickly launches back into your prior conversation, but you can barely pay him any mind – instead, your mind is awash with thoughts of the trouble that you’ve gotten yourself into. All that’s left is just a few promotional photographs of Jake and then the two of you will be on your way back home… and the thought of what lies in wait for you makes you clench your thighs together in excitement.

Both lucky and unlucky for you, the photographer is finished with Jake quickly, and you watch with wide eyes as he strides determinedly over to you as Oliver continues babbling on about something or other in your ear.

“Are you ready to go?” Jake asks, interrupting Oliver’s endless chatter.

You open your mouth to protest but you stop short upon seeing the face that Jake is giving you. One eyebrow raised – almost as if in challenge, eyes venomous and dark, and his mouth is set in a hard line. You snap your mouth shut and give him a nod.

Oliver, noticing Jake’s body language, stops short and stares between the two of you.

“I, um…” He mutters, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “I think I’ve gotta go do… something or other over there.” He jerks his head towards where the director is talking with some of the other crew members.

“Oh.” You say, turning away from Jake to give Oliver your best doe eyes. “Well, it was a pleasure getting to meet you, Oliver.”

He smiles despite the tension in the air.

“It was great meeting you too. Maybe I’ll see you again some time.”

And with that, Oliver scurries away, leaving you and Jake to stand in stony silence. You glance up at him but all you see is his back as he walks slowly towards the door.

“Don’t make me have to wait on you.” He says coldly, and you frenziedly jog over to catch up with him.

The drive home is silent. You fold your hands in your lap, nervously fiddling with a stray thread on your shirt. Jake stares resolutely ahead, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles have turned white. In a desperate attempt to ease the tension, you reach over to turn the stereo on. The smooth notes of Dan Fogelburg spill through the speakers, easing the awkwardness for a moment. Without looking away from the road, Jake reaches over and turns it back off, plunging you back into silence.

By the time you arrive home, you’re sweating and a dull ache has taken up residence between your legs. Jake slams the car door shut and you follow swiftly behind him, excitement and fear thrumming through you. You enter your shared home and Jake still hasn’t looked at you – instead, he walks slowly over to the kitchen and grabs a glass from the cabinet. He grabs a bottle of bourbon and pours himself a generous amount. He takes a sip, still refusing to even look at you.

“Jake, I-”

“Shut the fuck up.” His eyes finally snap to yours and you shrink back from his angry gaze. “I’ve heard enough from you today.” He drains the last of the bourbon. “Go upstairs and strip.”

“But-”

“I told you,” he slams his glass down on the counter, “to shut the fuck up.”

He’s not yelling, but there’s nothing but pure rage in his voice. Figuring you’ve dug your hole deep enough, you practically sprint up the stairs and into yours and Jake’s bedroom. It’s dark out, and the only light in the room is spilling from the floor lamp in the corner, bathing the room in warm light. With shaky hands, you strip your clothes off you, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Your heart is beating madly in your chest and your hands are clammy as you stand naked in the middle of the room.

You snap your eyes to the door as you hear the floorboards creak.

There he stands, anger rolling off him in waves. He’s barefoot now, and his hat has been discarded elsewhere. His black shirt is completely unbuttoned, allowing your eyes to roam freely over his gorgeous torso. His eyes are stony and his face is completely void of any emotion, leaving you with nothing to gauge what your punishment is going to be.

“Get on your knees.” He orders, slipping his shirt off his shoulders. You practically collapse onto the floor and you wince, thankful that the floor is at least carpeted.

Jake strides over to you, his dark eyes pinned on yours as you look up at him. Slowly, he reaches a hand out to you, gripping your jaw tightly. He leans in close, face just inches away from your own. You can smell the liquor on his breath.

“Do you remember your safeword?”

You nod and his grip on your jaw tightens even more.

“Words, y/n.”

“Gibson, sir.”

He releases his hold on you and straightens back up.

“Good girl.”

You release a shaky breath as you glance up at him through your lashes, mouth watering at the way he’s looking at you – like he can’t decide if he wants to yell at you or kiss you. You stare, waiting for his next instruction. You can’t help but notice how close you are to his cock, hiding behind his black slacks. You want it – badly.

“You just gonna sit there and stare or are you gonna do something?” Jake asks you coldly.

“You haven’t told me what you want me to do. Sir.” The brattiness in your tone makes Jake’s eyes widen momentarily before he smooths over his expression.

“You’ve been acting like a slut all day… flirting with that stupid producer right in front of me. You really think you’re in the position to be acting like a brat right now?” He gives you a sickly sweet smile but you don’t answer him.

His hand shoots out suddenly and tangles in your hair. You let out a surprised squeak as he pulls your head back roughly, exposing your throat. He leans back down, so close that his plump lips almost touch yours.

“You’re so fucking desperate for it that you flirt with that guy just to piss me off?”

You wrap your hand around his wrist where it's tangled in your hair. You bite your lip for a moment, debating your next choice of words.

“What makes you think I’m so desperate for you? Maybe I wanted Oliver instead.”

Jake growls and the sound makes wetness practically gush from you. You can feel it dripping down your thighs.

“You really think he could fuck you the way I do?” He pulls away from you suddenly and begins to undo his belt. “Think he could make you feel the way I make you feel?” He slides his pants off himself, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

You know that no one could ever come close to bringing you the pleasure that Jake brings you, but apparently you’re a glutton for punishment.

“Maybe he could, maybe he couldn’t. Only one way to find out, though.” You give him an innocent shrug.

Without warning, Jake’s fingers wrap around your throat and squeeze. Your vision swims and a choked, meek little noise falls from between your lips.

“That little twig couldn’t fuck you half as good as I can and you fucking know it.” His grip tightens even more and your chest burns as he cuts off your air supply. “Fucking brat.”

Just as your eyes begin to roll back into your head, Jake releases you. You take in a staggering breath and cough.

“Suck my cock. And maybe I’ll think about letting you cum tonight.”

You waste no time in sliding his boxers down his powerful thighs, and your mouth waters as you take in his dick standing proudly at attention. No matter how many times you get to see it, you’re always overcome with how pretty his cock is.

Teasingly, you begin leaving little kitten licks over his head, just barely brushing your tongue against him. Before finally, you slowly wrap your lips around him and sink down until his tip nudges the back of your throat. You relax your jaw and breathe in through your nose as tears prick your eyes. Jake brings his hand to the back of your head and pushes you even further down on him, causing you to gag around him. You brace your hands on his thighs as he begins to rock his hips, fucking your mouth so deeply its taking all of your focus not to gag even more.

“Fucking take it.” Jake grits out, and you wish you could see what his face looks like as he fucks your throat. You can imagine what he probably looks like – brows pinched together and his head thrown back in pleasure. He groans and you whimper in response, more wetness dripping down between your thighs.

Jake pulls his cock from your mouth with a lewd pop and you take in a gulping breath.

“Look at you…” He says darkly, running a finger along your jaw line as he takes you in – mascara streaming down your cheeks and your hair a tangled mess. “Ready to admit who it is that you really want?”

You nod, whining as your pussy throbs with need.

“Say it.”

“You.” You tell him, and your voice sounds just as ruined as you feel. “I want you, sir.”

“Get on the bed.” You scramble to your feet, legs shaky and thighs a complete mess as you climb onto the bed. You sit in the middle and watch as he drinks in your form.

The bed sinks as Jake climbs into it. He crawls over to you and props himself up on one arm. With his other hand, he runs his calloused fingertips through the mess on your thighs, so so close to where you want him most.

“You’re fucking soaked, angel. Jesus.”

You whine and spread your legs wider, desperate for any type of relief.

“Please, Jake..” You cry, eyes screwing shut as his fingers ghost over your folds.

“Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours, sir. All yours.”

“That’s right.” He says, swiping a finger through your folds and just barely brushing against your swollen clit. “All fucking mine.”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger into you and you let out a wail at the stretch. He pumps into you as his thumb circles madly over your clit. It’s too much and not enough all at the same time. He adds a second finger and you cry out again, before grinding your hips downwards to meet his hand.

“Ah uh. Nope.” He pulls his fingers from you. “Don’t fucking move. You wanted to act like a slut. Now you’re gonna lay here and take it like one. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.” Your entire body jolts as he slaps his palm against your cunt, drawing a pained yelp from you.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

He inserts his fingers once more, fucking into you at an agonising pace. You moan and whine, but you diligently stay in place, resisting the overwhelming urge to rock your hips in search for more.

Slowly, Jake plays you into the edge of your orgasm, and your cries only increase as you draw nearer and nearer. Just as you’re about to fall over the crest of pleasure, Jake stops his movements completely and you whine.

“Did you really think I was going to let you cum that easy, angel? After how you acted today?” He shakes his head and tsks at you. “Silly girl. You don’t fucking deserve to cum yet.”

“Jake, please.” You whine, body strung so tight you feel like you might snap, “Please give it to me.”

“Give what to you, baby?” He asks, voice saccharine and filled with faux concern.

“You know what.”

“Oh, do I?”

Slowly, he begins to circle your clit again. Over and over again, he brings you right to edge before pulling back before you can finish. It’s agony, and tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he brings you to the edge for a fourth time before he pulls away.

“Fucking hell, please! Jake, please!”

Jake just chuckles at you.

“Baby gonna cry?” He asks you with a shit eating grin.

You clench your fists in desperation.

“If you’re not gonna let me cum you should have just let me take Oliver home instead. He wouldn’t make me wait for it.”

Your head snaps to the side as Jake’s palm connects with your left cheek. The blow is hard, causing you to bite down harshly onto your tongue and the taste of blood fills your mouth.

“You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” He asks, but he’s not looking for a response from you.

He sits up and reaches over to your nightstand and pulls open the drawer.

“No…” You whine, regret filling you as you realize what he’s about to do.

“Yep.” He says, pulling the cherry red vibrator out and shutting the door back. “Act like a brat and you get treated like one.”

He clicks the button and turns the vibrator on, and you can immediately tell by the sound that he has it on the highest setting. He settles himself between your thighs, hovering the toy just above your dripping cunt.

“Color?” He asks you, dropping the act for a moment.

“Green.”

No sooner had the word left your lips and Jake pressed the toy onto your clit. You yelp and your thighs instinctively try to close but he stops you easily. The stimulation is so much and your whole body feels like it’s on fire as Jake begins to make slow circles on your clit with the vibrator. White hot pain and pleasure course through you and you whine loudly – high pitched and desperate.

“Jake. Jake! Oh shit.” You grind out through clenched teeth.

“I don’t give a fuck.” He says, and presses the toy onto your clit even more. “If you wanna cum, you’re gonna cum from this.”

You could sob at his words. It’s too much and your body practically vibrates as he continues his assault on your clit. And yet somehow, you feel the coil starting to tighten in your belly. It hurts but the pleasure is still there despite the overstimulation as you moan and cry out.

“God, look at you. You gonna cum from this, angel? I know you can.”

You squirm beneath his ministrations and crack your eyes open to see him staring at you, eyes blown wide with lust. He’s rocking his hips into the bed, grinding his cock into the soft covers as he looks for some relief of his own. Your eyes roll back into your head as you hear him groan.

“Cum. Do it, angel. Cum for me,”

The band snaps and you're cumming, hard and violent. Your head feels like it’s in the clouds as the pleasure courses through you. Jake pulls the vibrator away from your poor clit and turns it off, tossing it to lay on the bed beside you. You lay there, brain fuzzy as you come down from your high.

“You ready for my cock, y/n? Ready for me to fuck you?”

You nod your head feverishly, body too weak to do much else. Your whole body is covered in sweat as your chest heaves.

“Get on your hands and knees, angel.”

You comply, rising shakily to get into the position he asked for. You sink your weight down on your forearms so that your ass sticks up in the air. You wiggle backwards, renewed desire for his cock coursing through you.

Jake pumps himself a few times before he nudges his tip through your folds, sliding through your wetness before he presses his cock into you. Slowly, he bottoms out, and the both of you moan loudly. He places both hands on your ass cheeks, digging his fingers into the meat of them as he begins to thrust into you. The stretch feels so good on your abused cunt, and all you can do is whine with each thrust into your pussy.

“God, you feel like heaven wrapped around me.” He groans, still thrusting into you agonizingly slow.

“Jake…” You whine, pressing your ass back into him. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” He whispers, picking up his pace slightly. “Who else can fuck you like I do, angel?” He punctuates his question with a particularly hard thrust that has you clenching around him.

“No one, Jake. No one.”

“Roll over. Wanna see you.”

Jake pulls out and flips you so that you’re on your back. He grabs your leg and tosses it over his shoulder before he guides his cock back into you. The new angle has his tip brushing against your cervix with each thrust and you wail his name. Sweat beads along his hairline and drips down his neck and his face is flushed as he pounds into you. Little grunts and moans fall from his lips and all you can do is just lie there and take it. Your tits bounce with each thrust and the sound of his hips hitting yours is loud and ridiculously pornographic.

“Angel, I’m so fucking close.” He groans out. “Give me one more.”

He places his hand on your lower belly, feeling himself inside as he fucks into you.

“You feel that?” He asks, voice sounding wrecked. “Feel how deep I am? God, fuck!” He curses, rhythm beginning to falter. He’s trying to hold on, waiting for you to cum first.

And you can feel him. He’s fucking you so hard and deep it’s like your brain can’t remember anything but the pleasure he’s giving you. You aren’t thinking – your mind reduced to nothing but Jake, Jake, Jake.

Again, that familiar feeling begins to claw up inside of you.

“Jake!” You scream, raking your nails down his back and leaving red marks in their wake. “Don’t stop. Please!”

“Fuck, y/n. I’m so- fuck.” He whines loudly and the sound pushes you over the edge.

You clench around him and you can feel him spill into you as your orgasm tears through you. Jake’s mouth is open in a silent scream as he cums. He keeps fucking you through both of your releases and you scream his name over and over as your climax keeps fucking going.

You open your eyes to see Jake’s chocolate eyes staring at you, filled with concern.

“Fuck, are you okay?”

As you become more aware of your surroundings, you notice that you’ve been cleaned up and Jake’s sweat-damp hair is beginning to dry.

“Yeah. I’m okay.” You paused for a moment before adding, “I think.”

“You scared me. Are you sure you’re okay? I shouldn’t have gone that hard…” He trails off, staring at you looking like a kicked puppy.

“Jake,” you smile at him, “I promise I’m okay, More than okay, actually.”

“Don’t ever do that again.”

“What exactly did I do?” You asked, sitting up to look at him more clearly. “Did I pass out?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, shit.” You giggled, shaking your head.

“It’s not funny!” He protested, but his lips quirked into a smile despite himself. “You scared the fuck out of me.”

“Well, I was asking for it.”

“Fair. You were being quite the brat.” He said, laughing lightly.

You shrugged.

“Had to get you riled up somehow, didn’t I? Besides, that was totally worth it.”

“I am pretty good, huh?”

You slapped his chest playfully.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?”

“Angel, no one is going to hear the end of this.”

--------------------

if you're reading this, i love you!

taglist:

@sacredjake

@ignite-my-fire

@demolitionndann

@brujamagik

@mybussyinchrist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #dee's writing

262 notes · View notes