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msgexymunson · 7 days

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The Ink Shop Part 2

Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it?

Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.

A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars.

❤️ If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!❤️

7k words

Masterlist Part 1

For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier.

Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile.

“Well hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.”

You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. “I had a good night's sleep, that's all.”

“Bet you did,” he grins, “you look real pretty.”

Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station.

Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.

The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes.

“I see London, I see France…”

You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display.

“Eddie!”

He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple.

“Sorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,” he says, drinking you in with his eyes, “anyway I wanted to ask-”

His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent.

��Good Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.” He brandishes the phone at you.

“Hello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.” replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side.

“What'd he say?” Eddie asks, hovering over you.

Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. “Mac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.”

“He said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?”

Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him.

You tell him as you smile smugly. “He told me to hit you for answering the phone.”

If anything, his grin grows broader. “Oh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.” He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.

Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek.

But that just makes his smile wider.

“Harder.” He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you.

“Eddie!” you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door.

“Good afternoon, can I help you?”

“Yeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?”

“He's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?”

You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world.

At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone.

So… bar?” Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about.

As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff.

“What did I do to deserve this?” John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card.

“Easy John, I got this,” he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment.

You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care.

“Ladies, gentlemen.” He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you.

“I don't think I-” you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air.

“Come on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?”

Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand.

“Shit princess, what did you do at college?”

“Study.” You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you.

“Right, so for the new guys…“ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. “salt right here…” he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, “then, lick, shoot, suck.”

In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat.

Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear.

“Good girl.”

Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.

For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie.

The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines.

Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served.

Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes.

“Quit staring Eddie,” you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card.

“Now I can't look at you?” He asks with an amused grin.

“I said quit staring, not quit looking,” you huff out.

“What's the difference?” He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.

You groan, turning on your stool to face him. “You are impossible,”

He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you.

Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. “What can I get you?”

“May I have a beer, please?”

“You certainly may.” John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, “I like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.”

Eddie dramatically holds his chest. “You wound me, sir!”

Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. “Don't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.”

As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.

“You're staring, sweetheart.” Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink.

“I wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.” It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by… being.

“That was rude. I thought we were playing nice?” he pouts playfully.

“Sorry. I- Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, shoot.”

Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. “Why do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.”

Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery.

“Oh princess, you are too cute.”

Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks.

“What? What is it?”

Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. “It's got a purpose, sweetheart.”

“What, like, kissing?”

Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. “Kinda. Kissing somewhere… specific.”

Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer.

Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. “And girls like that?”

His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar.

“Yeah, a lot, in my experience.”

“Oh.”

Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.

“You're looking a little hot there,” he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now.

“I'm fine, this sweater is too warm,” you shake out, pressing your thighs together.

“Liar.”

Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks.

“Eddie, could you… tell me, what- what it's like?”

He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. “you know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.”

“I know that, I mean…”

For a second he just gapes at you.

“Wait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or… show you?”

Flustered, you turn away a little. “Sorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you… did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.”

Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. “You know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?”

“Well, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at… that too. I could, owe you a favour?” It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing.

Eddie stares at you incredulously. “Wait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?”

“Yeah? Like a little… arrangement.”

He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. “I'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.”

That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand.

“Please?”

“Fuck.” He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment.

“Fine. Right now.”

“Oh I didn't-”

“Listen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.”

Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him.

“You sure about this?” He asks, searching your eyes.

‘Yeah, but…” you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely.

“Oh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.”

Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.

“This way sweetheart,” he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs.

For a second you stop in sheer surprise.

“Wait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?”

He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. “I have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.”

You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified.

“If you're gonna hit me, do it properly.”

“Eddie!”

He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you.

“Right, here is my castle,” he says as he opens the door and lets you inside.

Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.

“It's nice,” you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head.

“You hate it.” He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door.

“No, no, it's very… you.”

“I stand by my previous statement.” He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious.

“This is the bedroom.” He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar.

“Eddie isn't that the same wallpaper-”

“-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.”

You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.” He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. “Make yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.”

Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway.

The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if-

“You can sit down, princess.”

Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet.

“What's wrong?” his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you.

“No I- I was- maybe this-”

“Hey, look at me,” he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle.

“Whatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.”

“But i haven't showered-”

“When did you last?”

“Well… this morning.”

“You're fine. Trust me.”

He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together.

“I wanna kiss you.” He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.

He'll break your heart.

“That's not part of our deal, Eddie.”

A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns.

“That's not where I wanna kiss you.” He winks and tugs at your top, “can I take this off?”

Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head.

“God damn.” Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra.

He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. “That why you wore that sweater today?”

Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck.

“Yeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.”

He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. “Sorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.”

Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“You're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.”

Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. “Thanks, I don't get told that very much.”

Staring at you, he shakes his head.

“You should. You should be told every fucking day.”

You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair.

It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.

“Oh Holy fuck!” Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, “can’t hold back if you do that.”

It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes.

His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.

“Fuck, Eddie” you stutter it out, voice laced with need.

“Yeah?” He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him.

He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. “Can I?”

As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear.

“Fuck, look at you.”

The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms.

“Don't hide from me. You still want this?”

You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him.

“Say it. You need to say it.”

‘Yes, please Eddie.”

That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex.

“Jesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.”

“Eddie!” you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands.

“Relax princess, it's a compliment.”

Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture.

The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom.

He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line.

Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real.

“Talk to me,” he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, “good, yeah?”

“Eddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!”

You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure.

Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed.

Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick.

“You OK princess?”

OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup.

“Think you can go again?”

That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. “Again?”

Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling.

“I think you've got at least one more in you.”

Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up.

“Fuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.”

This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him.

You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched.

“Eddie, fuck!” You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do.

With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment.

After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin.

“So? Good?”

It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek.

“Are you going to kiss me?” You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden.

For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose.

“That's not part of the deal.”

Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile.

“I think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.” You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs.

“Stay here. I'll take the couch.”

“Oh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-”

“Hey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.” He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. “Here. If you want something to sleep in.” He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip.

“Honestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.”

“What about your chronic tardiness?” You joke, smiling softly at him.

“You're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.”

“You'd probably like that,” you tease.

“More than you know.” He winks again, and walks to the doorway. “Night, princess.”

“Night Eddie.”

When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling.

Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down?

Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?

After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions.

Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything.

As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond.

There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head.

Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.

You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements.

A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs.

Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? …OK, bad example.

Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more.

It looks like it's going to be a long night.

********************

“You look really great,” Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, “like, happier, more relaxed.”

It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine.

“Thanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.” It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth.

“Good, glad to hear it!” She beams at you and heads to her table.

The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early.

“Um… Hi.” A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly.

“Morning, can I help you?”

“Y-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?” He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you.

Face lighting up, you fix your best smile.

“Why yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID?

He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride.

“Excellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?”

Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles.

“A walk in? Wow.” She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself.

When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting.

“You're not my 10:30.”

The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong.

“Eddie, he's a walk-in.” Mac says, calling over his shoulder.

Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter.

“Well well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.”

Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.

“Let me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?”

He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes.

Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves.

There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda.

Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear.

“Now, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.”

“Eddie!” You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat.

“Sorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?”

Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension.

“Hey, keep it at home guys.”

Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip.

“It's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.” You say, shouldering past Eddie.

“Come on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!” He shouts, walking after you.

You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window.

“So, as I was saying-”

“Eddie, stop, not now.” you say, cheeks bright red.

“I was only-”

“Eddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!”

Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally.

You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac.

When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you.

Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest.

********************

It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently.

By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest.

He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.

The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.

“Eddie, can I talk to you?”

He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom.

“Listen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-”

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?” He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile.

“Yeah? I thought you were mad at me.” You mumble out.

“Oh, princess, come here.” He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug.

“That's not what I'm upset about, I promise.”

You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips.

“Really?”

Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. “You're adorable,” he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong.

“You know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.”

Grinning, you grab his arm. “Eddie, I can totally help you with that.”

His gaze is soft and warm as he asks “Really? You'd do that for me?”

“Of course I would. You got their number?”

He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William.

“I gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?”

He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored.

“Is Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.”

Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait.

“Bill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me… oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is- well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.”

Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly.

His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character.

“Barb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?”

You giggle, “I thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.”

He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly.

“Saturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.”

“Eddie I already owe-”

He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. “Mac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!”

You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you.

“Who the fuck is Barb?”

“I dunno, she sounded worldly.”

He grins, shaking his head, “I can't believe you lied for me. You seem… different lately. More confident. It suits you.”

Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other.

Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time.

“Fuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!” He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting “personal errand!”

Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly.

“You did good Miss, he's really happy.”

“Thanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.”

He laughs and touches your shoulder, “he cares about you. In case you didn't notice.”

He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled.

“Princess, I got you a present,” he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately.

“Eddie what the fuck!” You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look.

He chuckles and leans in close. “Thought you'd like it.”

“Eddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,” you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening.

He smirks at you in response.

“You free tonight? I can show you.”

Taglist

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#ms gexy writes #ink shop eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #tattoo artist eddie munson #tattoo artist eddie #eddie x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female!reader #older eddie munson #older! eddie #older!eddie #stranger things imagines #stranger things #stranger things smut

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stairain · 2 months

Text

Good Decoration

After misplacing a folder full of explicit images, the last thing you’d expect was Spencer to take it.

Warnings: Perv Spencer, male masturbation, nudes.

WC: 1.1K

“I have no idea what happened to it.”

Is what Spencer wanted you to believe.

You had misplaced a folder that unfortunately didn’t contain any case files, but instead various explicit photos of yourself. And you recall the last place you had left it was on his desk

Looking at him with an anxious frustration, you start to go through the folders and files he had splayed on his desk.

“Are you sure? I swear I left it here yesterday before I went home.”

Even as you begin to disorganize his workspace, Spencer looks unbothered. With a purse of his lips, he simply looks at you as if as clueless as you are to what had happened.

“I haven’t seen it. Maybe you left it somewhere else.” Or maybe someone took it.

He lied through his teeth, and if you weren’t so naive, you would’ve seen right through it. But instead, you anxiously bite your lip and nod.

Unfortunately for you, Spencer having been the one to take the folder would’ve been the best case scenario. Albeit embarrassing, you knew he’d be the one to not make a scene over it.

“Alright, thank you anyways.”

You say dejectedly before you leave his desk and return to yours, trying your best to stay composed and not tear apart the entire building.

Little did you know, Spencer was the one who had taken the folder. He wasn’t worried in the slightest when you started going through his desk, because the folder was comfortably sat on his bedside table at home.

It was your fault really, you should've been more careful. You'd ordered and printed them at a store and didn’t have time to stop by your place before you had to get to work. So you mindlessly placed them in a folder and in your bag, along with all the other case files you had as well.

Spencer was just sitting at his desk, packing his belongings up to finally go home. But as he was sorting through the pile on his desk, he noticed a dark blue folder slotted in the middle of every other cream colored one.

What started as an innocent curiosity quickly devolved into a perverted fascination as soon as he opened the folder. His eyes were met with the image of your bare chest, pushed up into the view of the lens as your face was left as an afterthought in the background.

He should’ve closed it immediately, slipped it into your desk before anyone else saw it. But with interested fingers that seemed to have a mind of their own, he found himself carding through the images.

They were all of you. Clothed, unclothed, exposed, private.

The office was otherwise empty, only him and a few other people who were packing up to leave anyways. He looked around to make sure no one was near him as he quickly shoved the folder into his bag.

The whole ride home, he contemplated his decision. Whether or not to drive back and put them where they belong.

You were his coworker, this was wrong.

Even as he stepped through the door of his apartment and took the folder with him to his bedroom, he knew it was wrong.

You were the only one who was supposed to have these photos, not him, he told himself as he pulled out the stack of photos.

With trembling hands, he splayed them out against the soft fabric of his bed. There had to have been at least thirty, all lined up as his dilated pupils scanned over each and every one of them.

As one hand held himself up as he leaned over the spread of pictures, the other slotted between the dampened fabric of his underwear and his embarrassingly hard cock.

Spencer didn’t know where to look, as his frantic eyes darted from the stiff peaks of your nipples under your tank top, all the way to where your perfectly manicured fingers were spreading open your slick pussy.

Letting out a low moan, his slim fingers wrapped around his heavy cock, and he couldn’t stop the way he began to hump his hand like some sort of animal.

The man felt disgusting, fucking into his hand as stared down at the collage of you he had created underneath his shaking body.

He had to face you tomorrow, look you right in the eyes as you talked about anything other than how he knows exactly what you look like under all your fancy blazers and fitted dress pants.

It was so wrong, you trusted him so much, and here he was, stroking himself slowly to your nudes like they were in a cheap porn magazine.

You’d be mortified if you knew anyone saw them, and you’d be horrified to know how tightly Spencer was squeezing his cock, desperately trying to replicate what it’d be like to fit into that drenched cunt of yours, the one you so proudly displayed for the camera.

Guttural groans and borderline pathetic whimpers escaped his quivering lips. The tip of his thumb rubbed at the soaked head of his length, and his knees almost buckled at how fucking good it felt.

His mouth hung open and a shaky stream of moans echoed throughout his empty room.

“F-Fuck—“

He was dangerously close, eyes rolling back into his skull, hair falling into his line of sight, spine shuddering in pleasure, he was long gone.

The fast pace of his hand around himself sped up frantically, and his body folded into itself as he imagined how upset and embarrassed you’d look after finding out what he’d done.

A loud whine ripped from his throat and his entire body froze as he thrusted into his hand, shamelessly exploding all over your face and body.

White ribbons of hot cum drip down his hand and pool against the inked surfaces, and he was far too busy moaning to himself to realize how much of a mess he made of you.

But the morning after your suspicion, he made sure he got to the office before you did, inconspicuously hiding it under a pile of papers in your drawer.

He knew you’d chalk it up to your nerves for not looking thoroughly enough the first time, you wouldn’t suspect a thing.

You made a quick stop at his desk to let him know that you found it, and he smiled at you like he had nothing to do with it, even though his pants had gotten tighter at the mere sight of the dark blue folder in those perfectly manifested fingers of yours.

You were so relieved that you had found them before anyone else, that you didn’t even notice that a few were missing.

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut

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sluts4matt · 1 month

Text

FIRST HIT

pairing: soft!chris x reader

summary: chris comes over to smoke, deciding he wanted his first time to be with you. although things take a slight turn.

warnings: SMUT, suggestive comments, use of weed, fingering, pet names, dirty talk, breeding kink (if you squint), praising

word count: 2440

author's note: i thought about this when i was getting ready to go to sleep ngl

you smiled down at your phone, excited and filled with joy that chris wanted you to be the person he smoked with for the first time.

him and his brothers were completely sober, had been since you met them basically when they first moved to LA. they didn't drink, didn't smoke, and didn't do drugs, so this was a huge step for him.

you slipped on your slides, pulling a 'fresh love' hoodie over your head and down your torso. you grabbed your car keys from the top of your vanity, leaving your bedroom and going out your front door.

you got in the car, setting your bluetooth up to play music. the beat of paris by $suicideboy$ rang through your car speakers.

you turned your head, looking out your back mirror before backing out of your spot.

you turned the wheel, beginning the drive to your destination.

it was a quick one, luckily, so you didn't have to deal with the traffic that the city was always experiencing.

you pulled up in the driveway of the house, putting your car in park and looking at your phone sending chris a 'here' message.

thirty seconds go by before he's coming out of the house, his hair falling in front of his eyes. he looked hot, you'd never deny it, but he was your best friend and you had to control yourself.

he walked up to the passenger side opening the door and sliding in, "always the passenger princess aren't you," you chirped mockingly, starting your car.

"suck my dick," chris mumbled playfully rolling his eyes. "mhm," you hummed, "what's this about you wanting to smoke?" you ask, glancing at him before your eyes go back to the road.

"oh uh," he says, rubbing his thumb and index finger together. "i don't know, just felt like it," he says. "so," he continues, "i was hoping you'd be the person who showed me."

you nodded, "i'd be honored christopher," you beam. chris adjusts himself in the seat as you drive, the faint sound of music playing in the background.

"what strain is it?" you ask, "something called peanut butter crunch," he stated, grabbing his bag. he started digging around, "homie said it was a hybrid," he added.

"ooh," you purred, "i've been dying to try that," you smiled. he chuckled, "yeah, well, looks like i'm gonna pop your cherry," he joked. you let out a fake laugh, shaking your head.

"tha- okay chris," you said, rolling your eyes. he snickered, pulling a few buds out of his bag. he looked down at them, turning his head and looking out the window.

he had a look of regret on his face, like he was questioning himself if he was making the right decision. "don't force yourself," you mumble, glancing at him.

"what?" he asks, looking back at you. "to smoke, you don't have to if you really don't want to," you say. he lets out a sigh, "no i wanna do this," he said, "just a little nervous," he continued.

"understandable i suppose," you shrug, pulling into your driveway. you park the car, taking the keys out of the ignition and getting out.

chris follows behind, following you inside and up to your room.

you shut the door, going to your desk and pulling out your grinder, as well as a few papers. you sat them down on your desk, then turning to the drawers.

you open one, looking for the lighter that you knew was in there. you found it, picking it up and turning around.

"give," you say, holding your hand out. chris' eyes looked at your hands, more specifically the fresh manicure that sat neatly on your fingernails.

he had always liked your hands, the way you painted your nails and the way the rings you'd wear would sit perfectly.

chris' lips parted slightly, his tongue running across the bottom one. his eyes fluttered back up to yours, giving you the bud.

you looked down, placing the paper down. you started grinding the weed up, watching the way it would fall out of the grinder and onto the paper.

you set the grinder down, looking up and noticing chris' eyes were trained on your hands, watching every movement carefully.

you decided to test something, though you had to do it anyway. you brought the joint up to your lips, your tongue darting out to lick at the paper.

you watched as chris' eyes fell to your tongue, watching it glide across the paper and wetting it. his tongue poked out slightly, mimicking your own actions.

you rolled it back up, placing it down. "all done," you chirped, turning around to grab the lighter.

you went over to your bed, sitting down and crossing your legs. chris followed, sitting down across from you.

you lit the joint, inhaling and feeling the smoke fill your lungs. you looked at him as you blew it out, a cloud forming around you.

"try," you say, holding the joint out to him. he took it hesitantly, bringing it up to his mouth and sucking in. his body shook a bit as he began coughing.

"woah," he choked out, handing the joint back. you laughed, bringing the joint back to your mouth and taking another hit.

he stopped coughing, his eyes meeting yours.

you blew the smoke out, your eyes not moving from his. the air felt thick, like it was filled with something.

he was staring, the only sound in the room was his breathing. "can we try something?" he mumbled, "i saw cj and his girl do it at his party the other night," he continued.

"uh," you started, unsure of what to say. "sure," you replied, taking the joint back from his hands.

"what is it?" you ask. he scooted closer to you, his thighs brushing against yours. his hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you to his lap. you hovered over his clothed crotch area as he held onto your hips.

"said it was called shot gunning or somethin'" he said. you nodded, bringing the joint up to your lips and inhaling. you lowered your lips down to his, opening them and blowing the smoke into his mouth.

his lips latched onto yours, a hand going up to your face and the other resting on your hip. his fingers brushed the skin on your stomach, sending goosebumps up your back.

he kissed you softly, his tongue poking out and sliding along your bottom lip. you parted them, giving him access to explore your mouth.

his tongue darted inside, his fingers pushing the hem of your shirt up slightly, guiding your hips down. you ground your hips down on his clothed bulge, his lips parting and letting a small moan leave his throat.

his lips parted from yours, a string of saliva connecting your lips. he licked his lips, looking at you with big eyes.

"you okay?" you ask, running your hand through his hair. he nodded, leaning his head down and resting it on your chest.

you rubbed his back, his fingers tracing shapes into the skin of your stomach. "i-i wanna try something else," he mumbled, his voice muffled from the fact that his head was still pressed into your chest.

"alright," you say, a soft smile on your lips. he pulled away, his cheeks red and his pupils blown. he leaned forward, his lips latching onto yours again.

you kissed him back, your eyes fluttering closed. you could feel his hand tanging in your hair, a gasp leaving your lips when he tugged your head back to expose your neck.

he started kissing along the sensitive skin, his tongue darting out and running across the warm flesh. you grinded down on him again, his hand still on your hips.

you could feel his erection, a smirk pulling on your lips. he pulled away from your neck, his hands going to the hem of your sweater and tugging it over your head.

you threw it somewhere in the room, not bothering to pay attention. his hands went to your waist, his fingers trailing up and down the soft flesh.

"c-can i?" he mumbled, his voice a whisper. "of course," you breathed out, watching as his hands trailed up your back and reached to undo the clasp of your bra.

he unclipped it, sliding the straps down your shoulders and pulling the garment off. you tossed it, his eyes trailing down to your breasts.

you were average, not too big or small, but enough to fill his hands. his lips attached to your collarbone, leaving dark marks.

"chris," you whined, his mouth moving down and attaching itself to your nipple. his tongue swirled around the bud, his hand coming up and pinching the other one.

his free hand trailed down, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your sweats.

"can i?" he asked again, looking up at you with puppy eyes. "please," you whined, feeling his fingers slip under the waistband and into your underwear.

"fuck," he whispered, his fingers touching your soaked pussy. "all this for me?" he asked, looking at you with lustful eyes.

you nodded, bucking your hips into his touch. he took that as a signal, his fingers sliding along your wetness.

you whimpered, feeling his middle finger dip into your hole. his palm was rubbing against your clit, the sensation causing you to shake.

"god you're so tight," he moaned, his finger curling up and brushing against the spongy spot inside you. his lips latched onto your nipple again, his fingers working on getting you off.

"chris, oh my god," you whined, a knot starting to form in your stomach. he inserted another finger, the digits pumping in and out of your tight hole.

"please, please, please," you whimpered, rocking your hips and fucking yourself on his fingers. "that's it," he encouraged, his lips kissing along your neck.

"wanna see you come, wanna see you squirt all over my fingers," he cooed, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

"yes, yes, yes," you chanted, throwing your head back as his fingers picked up the pace. the knot in your stomach tightened, a loud moan leaving your mouth as his fingers curled up.

your orgasm hit you hard, a rush of liquid spurting out of your hole and drenching his fingers.

"good girl," he cooed, pulling his fingers out and sucking them into his mouth.

"fuck," you whispered, watching as he cleaned his fingers. he leaned forward, capturing your lips and letting you taste yourself.

"do you want me to-"

"no," chris interrupted, "just let me take care of you," he said, sliding your sweats and underwear down to the bend of your knees, his fingers reaching down and undoing the tie on his sweats.

you helped him, his hand slipping down into his underwear and pulling his dick out.

you licked your lips, staring down at the member in front of you. it was thick, not as long as you expected, but it was perfect.

a bead of precum dripped down the tip, chris' hand wrapping around it and jerking it slowly.

"can i," he started, looking up at you. you nodded, letting him guide you down so his cock was lined up with your pussy.

"tell me if i hurt you," he says, pressing the tip up against your entrance. you nodded, watching him slowly lower you down.

you winced at the slight sting, his hands rubbing the skin of your thighs. he pushed you down, sheathing his entire length inside you.

"fuck, fuck," you gasped, the pain subsiding and pleasure taking over. chris' lips were parted, a moan falling from his lips.

"so tight," he moaned, "fuck, gonna break my dick off," he joked, a giggle leaving his lips.

you let out a small laugh, the noise turning into a moan when he thrust up into you.

"shit, chris," you whimpered, his dick brushing up against that sweet spot almost immediately.

his hands slid down to your ass gripping the flesh, his nails digging into the skin as he lifted you up and pulled you back down.

you let out a string of moans, your hips bucking up into him as he bounced you up and down on his cock.

"god you look so pretty," he groaned, his thumb reaching up and brushing the bundle of nerves above where you were connected.

your head fell back, your eyes shutting and your mouth open in a silent moan.

chris was groaning, his hips meeting yours as you slammed down onto him.

"gonna cum," you moaned, "inside, please, cum inside," you pleaded. "fuck, you want me to breed you? you want me to make a mess inside you?" he grunted, his nails digging further into the flesh of your ass.

"yeah, yeah, want it, want it so bad," you cried, the knot in your stomach tightening.

"c'mon baby, cum for me," chris encouraged, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit.

your orgasm washed over you, a rush of warmth flooding the lower part of your stomach.

chris moaned, his grip on your hips getting tighter as he pounded up into you.

"yes, yes, fuck," you whimpered, your body going limp. chris flipped you over, pounding his hips into yours.

your head fell back onto the mattress, a series of gasps and whines leaving your mouth.

"so fucking tight," chris moaned, watching your eyes roll back. it gave him a complex knowing he was the one making you feel like this.

"c'mon chrissy, wanna feel you," you encouraged, your nails digging into his shoulder blades.

his eyes rolled back, a string of curse words falling from his lips. his hips stuttered, a groan leaving his mouth as he spilled his seed inside you.

he thrusted a few more times, making sure he was empty.

"shit," he whispered, his hand cupping your face.

"hey," he says, looking into your eyes. "hi," you giggle, reaching up and grabbing his face.

"can i kiss you?" he asks, his lips just barely ghosting yours. you nodded, letting him capture your lips in a soft, yet passionate, kiss.

"i like you," he mumbles, pulling away and looking at you. "well, no shit sherlock," you joked, laughing.

"no," chris sighed, his hand running through his hair. "i mean, like, i want you," he said, his words not making sense.

"like, i want to be your boyfriend," he clarified, "want you to be my girl," he continued.

you smiled, reaching up and running your thumb over his cheekbone. "christopher," you start, his eyes widening, "i want you to be my boyfriend," you finish.

tag list:

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emma-needs-attention · 4 months

Text

I don’t shave every day. It’s not that I don’t “need” to; I have very dark, dense facial hair that grows quickly and remains pretty visible after shaving. When I do shave, I don’t try to cover it with makeup (beyond some powder to reduce redness). In most other ways I present very feminine, but I always have fairly obvious facial hair.

And it makes me feel terrible.

I started electrolysis a couple months ago. It’s excruciatingly painful, expensive, and it takes forever. In an hour-long session, my electrologist is able to remove hair in only a small region (about 1 square inch). A few weeks later, much of that hair comes back. I am told that it will take two to three years of regular treatments to remove it entirely. On top of that, I apparently have a condition called Post Inflammatory Hyperpigmentation, which causes the skin in affected areas to darken after treatment. For nearly two months after completing a single pass over my upper lip, my mustache was more visible than it had ever been, despite having significantly less hair.

And it made me feel terrible.

I know this is the best way for me to permanently remove my facial hair, but I just canceled all of my upcoming sessions and at the moment I have no plans to begin again.

If I could pay to have my facial hair instantly and completely removed I would empty my savings account. I am intensely aware of it any time I go out in public. If it makes me so uncomfortable, why do I not do more to hide it?

I feel incredibly privileged for a trans woman. I have a loving, supportive family. I have a well-paying job. I live in a very accepting area. I have never had a single person say anything negative to me about my gender identity, which was certainly not what I was expecting when I came out. It is important to me that I be visibly queer, and in my privileged position I am able to do that without fear. A year ago I didn’t think I would ever transition; now I want people to know that I’m trans.

I am disappointed with myself for wanting to remove my facial hair, for changing my voice. I am determined not to have to do more work than a cis person does. Cis women don’t have to shave their face every day. Cis men don’t have to shave their face every day. Why should I? This is who I am, what my body does. Shouldn’t I be proud of that? Am I not supposed to love myself the way I am?

But by that logic, why am I even transitioning in the first place?

I am doing more work than a cis person does. Cis people don’t transition, and transitioning takes effort. I know that there are cis people, both men and women, who do shave every day. Am I lying to myself? I’m a trans woman; aren’t I supposed to want to get rid of my facial hair? Shouldn’t I be trying harder? Doesn’t this give me dysphoria? Am I pretending not to have dysphoria so I don’t have to put in the effort? Does the fact that I’m not trying harder make me… I don’t know, less trans? Non-binary? Is it ok for me to call myself a trans woman? Am I lying to myself?

As a woman who was a man until thirty, there are things about my body that I must accept, that I won’t be able to change no matter how much money I dump into my transition. I’m tall, I have broad shoulders, I have large hands. No amount of surgery or hormones will change these things.

But there are many things that I can change, and while none of them are requirements for being a woman, they may still be changes that I want to make. Where do I stop? Am I finished transitioning when I’ve done everything that is physically possible? My goal isn’t to “pass,” at least not in the way that word is generally used. In a time when cis women are being assaulted because people think they’re trans—because they don’t “pass” as women—the idea of what it means to pass becomes blurry. Often when we say that we want to pass, what we really mean is that we want to be conventionally beautiful.

I am a woman. Therefore, I look like a woman. My transition goal is to pass as myself. I’ve spent the last year trying to figure out who I am so I can look like her. I don’t care whether people see me and think “that’s a woman.” I want to be able to look in the mirror and think “that’s me.” But it can be extremely difficult to separate your own image of yourself from society’s idea of what you should look like. Am I self-conscious about the size of my body because it doesn’t feel like me, or because I’ve been told that women should be smaller? There are tall cis women, there are broad-shouldered cis women, there are cis women with large hands. Those traits don’t make them less womanly.

For the aspects of my body that I do have control over, I am stuck wondering whether I am changing things to become myself, or changing them because I have internalized that the way I am is wrong. At the moment, facial feminization surgery is something that I think I might like to do. But how do I know that I want to do it for the right reasons? I don’t hate my face, but when I catch a glimpse of myself from certain angles I can’t help but think that it isn’t feminine enough. What I should be asking is if it’s Emma enough, but how can I know that? How do I know who I’m supposed to be?

I feel like I was supposed to be a cis woman, but… why? Who am I to say that I wasn’t supposed to be trans? That I wasn’t supposed to transition at thirty, to have both a male puberty and a female one? Being trans has made me more self-aware, more open-minded, more empathetic. The totality of my experience is what makes me who I am. Maybe there’s a world in which I was assigned female, maybe there’s a world in which I was put on puberty blockers as a kid. But the girl in those worlds isn’t me.

Loving yourself and wanting to change are two feelings that can coexist. I tend to think of body positivity as simply accepting yourself as you are, but it is more nuanced than that. As a trans person, who I am inside is not the same as who I am outside. Which one am I supposed to love? I do love myself, but I also love who I could be. I’m transitioning so that someday they’ll be the same person.

Over the past year I have become both my biggest supporter and my biggest critic. I constantly tell myself how pretty I am, how brave I am, how fucking cool I am (hey, nobody else is saying it and it’s true). This forced positivity has been fantastic for me. I can confidently say that I truly love myself for the first time in my life. But I sometimes feel guilty that I don’t love myself more.

I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror all the time now. I actually bought a new mirror so I didn’t have to walk as far to do so. I’ve taken more selfies than I did in my entire pre-transition life. After many months on HRT, I finally see myself in my reflection. But my eyes refuse to focus on my stubble. Sometimes I catch myself thinking “I’m going be so beautiful once I get rid of this facial hair,” and it feels like a betrayal. Fuck you Emma, I’m already gorgeous.

#trans #transfem #transgender #lgbtq #comics #essay #art #cw dysphoria

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vellichor-of-the-solivagant · 5 months

Text

With Them, Who Swallowed a Star

PAIRING: Professor!Task Force 141 X F!Student!Reader WORD COUNT 5.3k CONTENT WARNING: NSFW! group sex, age gap, fingering, cunnilingus, oral sex, handjobs, facefucking/blowjobs, unprotected sex, p in v, anal sex, slight usage of nicknames, reader is a pianist/student, tf141 are professors, smut with plot SYNOPSIS: A musician is a storyteller in their own ways. You had told yours and captured the sights of men you never expected to pull when you stepped inside an academy. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I tried to be poetic. This fried my brain and I'm not going to write something like this again. That's a lie because I have a series that has 5 love interests. This one was supposed to have Graves as well since he's actually my inspiration for writing this shit, but I ended up not adding him. I might do it on Drabbles if someone asks though. And yes, I have changed my username from DontFearTheReaperAzura. Here's the Masterlist for more! Also on Archive of Our Own

Your fingers fluttered slightly as you lifted your hands to the keys, blocking out the rustling from others as they sat in the grand auditorium. Long and drawn, you began to tell a tale you had held for a long time. Notes swam in the air, old friends that played with your tresses and caressed your skin.

The story started slowly, the sound of the beginning, the beginning of the end. Longing clashed with trepidation, your fingers sang a song of despair. You swayed with the music, lost in the whims of unspoken words—of a world you owned. Quicker and quicker, the notes climbed in sync with your heart, growing joyful in hopes of masking the mournful melody surrounding you.

It filled the emptiness deep within your chest for a moment, before like the heavens shed tears upon a barren land, you showed—you poured out the lore of your world, and with heavy reluctance to leave what you created, you played the last few notes.

For a few moments, you kept your eyes closed, and when a series of claps reached your ears, only then you opened them. You were shackled back to reality just as you held back your work.

You looked at the people, who in your eyes were nothing but shadows at the beginning, now enamored, yearning for the rest. You knew they felt it, too. Pulled, as though you were the center of the system. Like the Sun, a star.

And one man stuck out more than others, gazing at you, blue eyes almost ravenous. But it didn’t last for long, just like a song in the wind, he faded among the standing crowd, drowned out in the flurry of praise.

You breathed out a sigh as you stared at the towering structure before you, now your second hell—in replacement of the ramshackle place you call home—after you had gotten a scholarship to this prestigious university after years of a couple of years of working your ass off. Students rushed past you on their way in and out of their classes, but you stood frozen.

Suddenly you felt awfully unprepared for this unfamiliar place, of socializing and strangers, and of university. Of life. What did Google say about socializing with people your age again? How about impressing a professor? Good lord.

You shrugged off your thoughts and sauntered to your class. A large lecture hall welcomed your sight and you found an empty seat at the front row. Not the perfect place for observation of the whole place, but good for listening to the professor.

The sound of expensive shoes echoed throughout the hushed room and you kept your eyes down as you took out your notebook and pen. As the quiet dragged on, you glanced at the professor and found your brows raising at his sight.

He was tall, seemed to be fit, and in his thirties. He had a few wrinkles, a beard, and brown hair, but no sign of graying.

Above all, you could remember those eyes. An endless swirl of blue. The man at the concert hall.

You put your gaze down as the professor looked down on you, your heart hammered against your ribs, sudden nervousness springing in your nerves. You wished he wouldn’t recognize you, but at the same time, you hoped he did.

Yet, the silence remained, and in curiosity, you looked back up. Your breath hitched as your eyes met his, gaze shining with something you couldn’t decipher, and a smile formed on his lips.

You forced yourself to mirror it and batted a glance at the door. You wanted to get out.

The professor introduced himself as Jonathan Price, and told the class a few things about himself, before diving straight into the first lesson of Philosophy.

Time seemed to flow fast throughout his class and you kept your fingers busy, writing down his words. He was easy to understand, bringing out intricate details in his lesson, and asked questions now and then if he was going too fast while walking around the room.

You couldn’t help but notice his slacks fit in a certain area. Then again, that thing wouldn’t give you a brain cell even if you suck it off.

The bell chimed and you gathered and stuffed your notebook and pen inside your bag, jolting up to your feet. But as you approached the exit, his canorous voice called out to you.

“Pardon me, young lady.”

You turned to face the professor, keeping a respectable distance from him, which he closed off, only standing a couple of feet from you.

“Yes, sir?” You asked in a small voice when he remained silent, his eyes studying you with disconcerting intensity, just like how he gazed at you at your performance.

Finally, after an uncomfortable silence, he asked. “What’s your name?”

You spoke of your name in a steady voice, equally confused and intimidated, you gripped on the strap of your bag. Everyone had already left, now bringing quietness to the hall.

He smiled once again, his head tilting a bit to the side. “A pretty name.” His voice sent goosebumps on your skin, making you breathe in deeply, inhaling the scent of his pleasant cologne. “Such a shame I couldn’t catch it after your performance a couple of weeks ago.”

He remembered you.

Your cheeks began to burn.

Oh, how he yearned to caress your tinted cheeks, place a kiss on them, and mutter praise against your soft skin.

“Ah, you were there, weren’t you, sir?” You offered him a smile and a pause. “I think I caught a glance of you in the front rows.”

“Correct.”

“Thank you for watching, sir,” you said, not knowing what to speak of next, and nodded at him, reaching out to the knob to leave. But he reached for the door, making you blink at his unexpected actions, caged between the door and him.

“I couldn’t take my eyes off of you,” he fessed, bodies now closer to yours that you almost touched, and you gulped. “You were magnificent.” He opened the door, a hand motioning at you. “See you on Wednesday. And I hope we see more of your performance.”

We?

You jolted awake at the loud laughter of a raucous group outside of your room and grunted at the sudden pang of pain in your head when you stood up. You glanced at the alarm clock by your bedside and muttered a crisp curse, hauling your bag. You burst out of your room, slipping past students in the hallway like a breeze, hurried apologies were called out to those poor victims she bumped into.

The morning had been long and tiring, and you decided to take a nap earlier, only to end up sleeping for a couple of hours. Now, you were about to get late for your next class, and the usual ten-minute walk turned into a five-minute run and an uncalled exercise.

You glanced from left to right in the hallway, glancing at your phone to make sure you were in the right building, and turned to the right, following the signs. You halted before a room, strangely closed even though the class was supposed to start in five minutes.

You used your phone as a mirror and patted down your hair, before turning the knob and opening the door. You walked into a softly lit room and realized the mistake you had made as you spotted a man splayed down on a couch across the room. A hand behind his head and over his stomach, and over the lower half of his face was a black mask.

Inside was a personal office, belonging to one of the professors.

You immediately turned away, about to exit the room when an angry voice echoed.

“Have you got no manners?” The man rose to sit, a scowl painted on his face.

For the nth time in your sorry life, you wanted to bury yourself alive. You dipped your head low in embarrassment. “I’m very sorry, sir. I thought this was the room my class was in. I didn’t mean to intrude.” You frantically fumbled on your phone, inputting the wrong password one time, and read your schedule.

You read the room number wrong.

Brilliant. Bloody brilliant.

The professor fixed his crooked mask. “What class were you supposed to go to?”

“Uh, a math class of Mr. Simon Riley,” you read on your phone, keeping your head low.

A hum escaped past the man’s lips, making you glance up at him. His dark blond hair slightly ruffled from his apparent nap and coat a bit crooked. He ran his hand on his hair, fixed his coat, and patted down the invisible wrinkles on the fabric.

He stood up and you inched back, surprised at his stature. A tall man with broad shoulders and arms noticeably strong, (massive honkers) and eyes like a pool of honey, swirling like molten gold under the light.

“You’re in luck, sweetheart. I’m Simon Riley. You’re in my office, our class is in the next room.” Unlike earlier, his cold voice had turned a bit softer, but the fact that he was your professor made your sweat run cold.

You nodded, inwardly wincing at your dumbass. “Again, I apologize, sir.”

He stood before you, next to the opened door. Gladly, there were no students passing by in the hallway.

“What is your name, love?” he questioned, his hands going to his pockets. His eyes narrowed at the way your head dipped, refusing to meet his gaze. Like a meek little bunny, scared of the world and what all those pretty eyes could see.

He wanted to place a finger under your chin and lift your face up to look at him.

You never knew introducing yourself could feel like an interrogation until now. You told him your name, averting your gaze down at his shoes that shifted slightly. “Nice to meet you, Sir Riley. I’m sorry it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

He hummed once again and stepped out of the office. “Pleasure’s all mine."

You followed him out of the room and he swiftly closed the door behind you, his being a bit closer to you than comfort.

With a nod, Professor Riley led you to the classroom. Dozens of students had already occupied the room and you silently made your way to a vacant seat on the second row, placing your bag next to you.

Just like Mr. Price, the masked professor went straight to the point, briefly introducing himself to the crowd, and began his lesson. He, too, was easy to understand, repeating the equations some couldn't get well, and was kind enough to let the class take a few minutes of break, before continuing. You had also come to notice he would fix his mask every once in a short while.

And when the bell chimed, he bid his students goodbye, yet called for your name. You halted on gathering your things as he approached you. His eyes glanced at the students who last left the room before he spoke.

"Feel free to come by my office whenever you have a question or need anything. Can't have you lose your way again, do we?" He asked, a bit of amusement in his voice as he leaned close.

You smiled at his offer. "Thank you, sir."

Sure as shooting, you asked him where your next room was for Chemistry. By good fortune, he knew where it was and who the professor would be.

"Ah, there he is." Sir Riley abruptly came to a stop, making you halt in your tracks as well and follow the direction of his gaze, to see a man with a mohawk.

"Simon!" The man jogged towards the two of you, a grin playing on his lips in contrast to the man who never took off his mask. Another person with blue optics, but his were bluer as though someone took a piece of the briny deep and placed it in his optics.

He kept a smile as his attention swept to you. "And who's the little bird?"

You frowned a bit at the nickname, nonetheless gave him your name, and watched his eyes light up with fascination. The man began to tell the pull he felt by the notes of your music, how enamored he was by the unspoken words of your tale.

He was there, too and Sir Riley was along with them.

Your face flushed as he ranted and they both noticed, taking note of the shades painted on your skin, bashful of the sudden recognition.

"He is John Mactavish, your Chemistry professor," Sir Riley piped in, placing a hand on the other man's shoulder, before bidding his farewell at the moment, marching down to his next class.

Left all alone with Professor Mactavish, you turned to him. He grinned at you and he beckoned at you to follow him. The man was, well, talkative and wasted not a second expressing his applause of your performance and how he never expected to see you in the university.

You could only mutter small words and nod, already feeling exhausted. But it was pleasant to hear him compliment you. You could get used to it.

And you could get used to his enthusiasm for teaching. His first lesson went straight to an experiment and dragged you to his side as his assistant, instructing you to mix chemicals. Occasionally, his fingers brushed over yours as you passed vials.

Your eyes met, and sparks flew all around.

Literal spark.

And fire.

Professor Mactavish pulled you to the side, hand remaining on your arm as the chemicals were set ablaze.

With a couple of ticks of the clock, a giggle erupted from your lips and like there was a pull, his chuckles followed.

In the sea of awes, his laughter floated on the surface.

You sprinted on the hall, navigating through the winding routes of the structures, and arrived at one of the most exquisite auditoriums you had ever set eyes on. Your eyes took in the magnificent chandeliers and the divine paintings stretched across the ceiling.

The sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your stupor.

“Are you just going to stand there?” a voice called for your attention to where he stood near the stage. The man basked in the warm glow of the concert hall, skin as though molten caramel, and eyes like embers.

“Oh, forgive me, sir.” You straightened yourself up like a soldier before a superior. “I was just, well, this place is beautiful.” You couldn’t help but glance around once again.

“Isn’t it?” A soft smile crawled its way to his lips and he approached you. “I am Mr. Garrick and you are . . .” your name rolled out of his tongue like a serenade, gentle to the ears, a sight to see the way his lips moved, and he extended a hand to you.

You clasped it gently before realization dawned on you. “Pardon me, Garrick as in the Kyle Garrick?”

In a flash of a moment, something sparkled in his eyes and searched yours. “Yes, it is me.”

You nearly squealed and ran around the room in excitement. “Oh my God. Wow. I-I’m a huge fan, sir. You were such a huge inspiration to me—and, and, I wished I could have watched your performance at the concert before, but I was busy preparing for mine. Oh, that must be why Mr. Price, Mr. Riley, and Mr. MacTavish were there! You are friends!” Your words tumbled out of delight.

"Yes, well, thank you for the kind words." His hand sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, his smile becoming wider.

You gazed at him for a few moments before you snapped out of it, your brain slapping it to your face that you just rambled in front of this gentleman. "I'm very sorry, that was unprofessional of me."

"No need for apologies. But I do want to get a feel of your play today as soon as possible." A hand landed on your back, his warmth slipping through the fabric as he led you towards the grand piano patiently waiting for you at the stage.

Your fingers itched in anticipation.

Sir Garrick gave you a comforting smile and sat on the front row seat. "Feel free to play whatever your heart desires."

What your heart desires.

With a shaky breath, once again, you began to tell a tale, the notes sounding like a human voice as it wove its sonorous song.

A ballad to tie what dream your heart made. An andante at first and increased tempo at each heartbeat.

Lightning striking and thunder howling, Kyle was consumed with the way you swayed from one note to another. He couldn't peel his eyes off you as though you had him in your grasp, a puppet for you to control. And only when the last of the music hung in the air, could he snap free of the strings.

He walked towards you and dropped to his knee, taking one of your hands in his palm. "You were truly astonishing."

"I'm telling you, she was marvelous," Kyle exclaimed, pacing around Price's office and pointing at his fellow professors. "Blimey, if only you guys were there the other day, you'd feel chills."

Simon kept a straight face as he sat on the couch, legs spread, his knees bumping with Johnny who took a seat beside him, sipping from his mug of coffee. Whilst, Jonathan inclined on his chair behind a mahogany desk, decorated with intricate carvings and souvenirs he had gathered as they traveled across continents.

"I get that you're delighted, but could you quiet down?" Price grumbled on his desk, a pang of pain shooting his head.

"No, I am not shutting up." Kyle raised a hand, shaking his head. "She recognized my name. My name.” He pointed at himself.

“Anyone would recognize your name if they’re yer fan or hater,” Johnny quipped and placed the mug down on the coffee table.

Kyle turned to him. “You don’t get it, mate. She said she’s a fan of mine. I was a huge inspiration to her—”

“Was a huge inspiration to her,” Simon echoed, leaning back against the couch. “Used to be, not anymore.”

Kyle glared and stomped towards the masked man, grabbing his collar when the other merely raised his brows in a challenge. “I swear to God, Simon, I swear to—”

“I swear to God if you three don’t shut the fuck up—” Price paused, straightening himself from his chair as Kyle shook Simon, and glared at them— “I’ll have you asinine blokes chopped into bits!”

Kyle let go of Simon, who simply fixed his crooked collar and tie, and raised a brow at the man behind the desk. He sat down on a vacant chair, his eyes not leaving Price, and asked, “Are you jealous she recognized me, Price?” he was answered with another glare, which he shrugged at. “Or not.” He definitely is.

For a few moments, they sat in silence, each lost in their train of thought. All centered on a certain lady, whom they had watched from afar, now within their grasp. They only acted as though it was their first time meeting you.

Each born to a wealthy family, presented interesting things which soon died down as they broke them down into pieces, they had grown bored. And had found that there were only a few they could put their trust in this world. Though not related by blood, they shared everything since they were younger. They knew one another strengths and weaknesses. Their faults. Their passions.

Their desires.

A knock pulled them out of their reveries.

Johnny being the closest to the door, got up and opened it. A smile was brought to his face as he found you. “Hello, bonnie. C’mon in.” He swung the door open, a hand motioning at you.

You hesitantly stepped in as you saw your professors inside the office, eyes all settled on you. You put a hand on your other arm to hold down your nervousness as the door behind you shut.

Four men who were strangely overly friendly to you. You could think of a couple of reasons. The first being a musician they had watched and the second, being their student.

A hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you further in, making your face flush. “Have a seat,” Sir MacTavish waved a hand at the sofa, where he and Simon sat.

You kept your gaze low as you obeyed him, sitting between him and your math professor, red cheeks going in a deeper shade as you met Kyle’s gaze. Embarrassed, you finally faced Price, and asked, “What is it that you called me for, Professor?”

Price put his elbows over his desk and intertwined his fingers. “We have a proposition for you . . .” Your name rolled sensually out of his tongue.

The proposition was to be their assistant. Given their overlapping schedules these days, it was hard for them to handle them. At first, you refused the offer, telling them you had a part-time job to do, along with practicing your skills in piano. But they had already thought about that and said they could pay you for your work.

A tempting proposal. Perfect for a student like you who got into this prestigious school through a scholarship.

You tapped your pen on the table and heaved a sound sigh, slouching on the chair. You were in a cafe near the school, in an attempt to change the atmosphere and help you write a report for Sir MacTavish's and Sir Price’s classes, but it didn’t seem to be helping at the moment. A pleasant music came from your earphones to block out the background noises and you closed your eyes to lull yourself.

When you opened your eyes, you jolted up your seat. “Shit!” your hands immediately flew to your potty mouth and straightened your spine at the sight of one of your professors, Simon, across the table. “Ah, uh, I’m very sorry, sir. I didn’t notice you—”

“Why do you apologize so often?” his rough voice was low and he placed a cup of tea on the table. His eyes landed on your notebook, full of notes, written clean as though it was printed.

You pursed your lips, unable to think of an answer, and ran your tongue over the soft flesh, catching Simon’s attention. “I . . .”

Simon glanced around the empty cafe, the only other person within the area was the staff over the counter, who kept her eyes on her phone. And you had perfectly picked a secluded spot. He looked back at you and reached out a hand, placing it under your chin. He lifted your face to bring your eyes to his.

Your heart raced at his actions.

“An angel as brilliant as you are should carry yourself with confidence, sweetheart.” His thumb caressed your lips. “Perhaps, we could teach you that.”

Your lips parted at his touch, warmth pooling at your stomach. You knew this was strange—wrong, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

But he let go and leaned back, and you found yourself gripping on your thigh. “Have you thought of our proposal last week?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “I have, sir.”

“What do you say?”

“The offer is good, and I don’t think it will clash with my schedule under normal circumstances, either.” You paused, letting him wait for your answer as you gazed into his caramel eyes. “I’ll take it, professor.”

You were fond of puzzles. You were interested in mysteries. And you were drawn to danger.

Being their assistant had more perks than you initially thought it was. You talked with them about their terms and added some of yours, and they seemed to be pretty considerate about it.

Maybe, a bit too much.

You had moved to an apartment they got you, so you wouldn’t be distracted by your roommates. When you had breaks, they would call you to their offices and give you desserts and snacks.

And more often than not, their touches lingered, turning into hugs, caressing, and pinching when in private. To close, seemingly the start of a taboo, a risk, and yet when Professor Price had you pinned between him and Professor Garrick in his office one late night when most of the people at school had gone home, you didn't want them to stop.

You wanted the heat to rush over you, like a forest fire, unwavering.

Didn't pull back when he planted his lips on you. Didn't stop the very professor you looked up to as a musician to bunch up your skirt and grind his dick against your ass. Didn't stop even when the other two entered and Sir Price had his hand rubbing against your clothed cunt. Didn't stop when Professor Riley locked the door behind him as Sir Mactavish joined in.

Johnny’s snaked a hand around your waist, a bit harsher than the ones he’d always done, but you didn’t mind it. Not when his lips were gentle against yours, patient and exploring as he led you on his lap when he sat on your couch, stealing you from Price and Garrick. He drank on your gasp as you felt another pair of lips on your nape, dusting kisses along your flesh.

Simon breathed against your shoulder, hand grasping the swell of your breast and performed maddening massage that got your nipples pebbling under the fabric of your top. You flinched when he took them by fingers, the rolls languid, and shifted on the other man’s lap as you felt a poke underneath.

Johnny groaned against you, parting the breathtaking kiss. He removed you from his lap, only to turn you against him, now facing the professor who had shed his mask. His fingers dipped under the band of your panties, into your untouched bud and your wet folds. He rubbed with a hum, spreading your filth.

“You're so wet, hen,” he commented and inserted a digit, rubbing it against your slick walls.

Your teeth sunk to your lower lip, biting back a squeal at the sudden intrusion.

Simon placed his fingers under your chin and leaned down on you, his tongue running over your lips, something he had always wanted to do before. “Don't bite your lips. That's something we're supposed to do, yeah?” He whispered on your lips and explored your mouth, savoring the echoes of your pleasure, and left to plant his marks on your collarbones. Hands gathered your shirt and lifted it, exposing your chest to his sight.

His mouth dropped to the nipple, sucking while his hand went to work on the other.

Johnny began to pump faster, making you throw your head back to his chest, moaning out in pleasure as you shot a glance at other professors.

“You are not so innocent after all, hm?” Price took your jaw and ran his thumb over your lips, before pushing it in, muffling your cries.

“No one's that innocent nowadays, Price,” Garrick remarked, watching the frown on your face and the flutter of your lashes at every jerk of Johnny's hand made and Simon’s tongue did. His tongue ran over his lips, hand cupping over his hard-on, palming himself through his pants.

You began to suck on Price’s finger, making his dick twitch in his pants—his brain wondering how good your mouth would feel around him. He pulled his hand away to work down on his belt and pants, hands pulling out his shaft. He gave it a few pumps, chuckling when he noticed the way your tongue ran over your swollen lips before a groan escaped from it as Simon planted a bite on your neck and Johnny's thumb began to work on your clit.

Price brought his tip to your mouth. “Open up, dove,” he demanded and grunted as he pushed his shaft in, breath hitching at the warm feeling of your tongue and your throat. Your face twisted a bit at the taste of his precum. He let you adjust for a couple of seconds, hand going to the back of your head before he began to thrust.

One of your hands flew to hold onto his hip as you let him use your mouth, eyes fluttering closed and focusing on breathing through your nose. Out of the blue, Johnny pulled his fingers out and Simon stepped away, eliciting a whine from you. Vibrations ran down Price’s body and he groaned.

Unbuckling of belts echoed in the air, and you were pulled away from Price, making him curse. The next thing you knew, you were staring into the eyes of the man you had admired for so long.

“Sir—”

Kyle put his thumb over your lips, cutting off your words. “Not sir. Call me Kyle.” He positioned his cock under your cunt, rubbing the tip on your entrance.

You gasped at the sensation. “Kyle . . .” Your jaw slacked as he slowly went in, hands pulling you closer to his clothed body, fingers running on your flesh, gentle just as how he played his instruments.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, hands sliding down to your ass to guide you up and down on his length.

Now, he made music out of you.

It didn’t take a few ticks of the clock until they fucked you with all they had.

Simon’s cock was buried in the confines of your mouth, fingers tangled on your tresses, watching the curls of your lashes get soaked by the tears that rolled down on your cheeks as they relentlessly pounded on you—Kyle on your pussy, Price on your ass, and Johnny on your grasps. You had never felt so full, so complete.

You feel your legs shake—the sign you have reached the pinnacle of pleasure and exhaustion when Kyle hits the spot deep in you. You whined against Simon’s cock, groaning as beg for the overdue orgasm that they had been keeping from you.

You felt a hand slide down your thigh, finding your swollen clit, before the rough pads of the fingers rubbed aguishly gentle and slow. If they weren’t your professors, you would have cursed at whoever the one was doing it. But your wish had been heard and he picked up the pace until you were crying, arching your back.

But they weren’t done.

You felt Kyle and Price become rougher at each of their thrust, Simon tugging on your hair harder, and Johnny losing his rhythm on your hands, until they all pulled back, coating your skin with their cum.

You slumped on Kyle’s chest, limbs like a stringless puppet as you ride out the aftermath of your orgasm. Your heavy lids fell close, tired from the deed, but you fought back the drowsiness, not wanting to fall asleep in the state you were in.

“You did good, love,” Kyle cooed into your ear and planted a soft kiss on your temple.

Johnny leaned down and pressed a kiss on your shoulder. “Yer amazing, bonnie. Can’t wait to have more of ya.”

A hand caressed your flushed cheek, swiping the transparent mix of tears and sweat. “Let’s bring you back to your apartment, dove,” Price said in a gentle voice.

Gentle fingers scraped your scalp, gaining a hum from you, must be Simon with how his fingers feel on your head. An unspoken apology about the way he tugged on your locks.

Like the sky glowing, your skin glittered in the ruins they drew up. A masterpiece you were, vulnerable, vincible in their sight, like walls that had fallen. And yet as though a book which held thousands of words, they still had more things to know about you.

Like every start of a relationship. How fortresses were made. Each beginning of a story.

You basked in the echoes of their praise, letting their words bring you comfort and slowly help you regain your mind and strength.

Like after a fire, new maps were drawn. A new tale was written, with them, who swallowed a star.

Taglist: @itsyellow

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tojisun · 6 months

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oki but this is sooo biker!simon after that first hookup you two had!! (this is a silly ramble based on the vid teehee)

biker!simon (ghost) riley x fem reader

!! smut - minors dni; D/s; sexting :’> // biker!simon mlist

you left with your number saved in his phone and his number saved in yours – simon having been the one to type it in. he named himself in your contacts as ‘simon 🏍️’ then got too shy at its obnoxiousness so he renamed it to ‘simon’ only.

(you later changed it to ‘si <3’ anyway).

simon sends the first message, unable to wait.

“hope you got home safe.” <

he would’ve dropped you home if he could, but simon understands why you preferred to keep your location a secret from him.

he waits for your reply, which arrives thirty minutes later.

> “thank you!! and i just got home, safe and sound <3”

simon almost chokes at the giddiness that lodged in his throat, his fingers trembling as he sends his reply.

the conversation picks up after that, mutual awkwardness breaking as friendship begins to bloom. you two try to make up plans, but your schedules never synced up and it left simon starving. aching with a heavy desire because he wants to see you again. wants to be with you again.

he wonders if you felt the same way. if you ache for his touch. for his body. if you lay on your bed at night, tracing at your skin, reminiscing the way simon pressed kisses into your soft corners and tender flesh.

simon wonders if you do. hopes that you do.

because even though he knows how much you’ve whispered how you love him, he had chucked it to your delirium; had told himself that it was a spur of the moment thought in fear that you would actually reject him.

so it came to him as a surprise when you sent him a… sensual message. nothing too conspicuous, but something that set him ablaze.

> “i miss the way you held me.”

simon stares at the message, going breathless as the memories return to him full force. it’s not like simon forgot – he knows he can never – but he’s been trying to push it in the back of his mind to pursue a more innocent relationship with you.

because you deserve more than a series of messages full of the ways he’d promise to fuck you – positions, places, and the amount of times he’d make you cum just with his mouth. because you deserve more than just words. words that aren’t even spoken, just typed.

and yet, he couldn’t help himself. he types in his reply, his mind overtaken by a fog that settles within his blood, mingling with reason.

“i miss you too, sweet girl.” <

simon breathes in, his mind shackled by the memory of your heat wrapped around him, and adds:

“miss the way you moaned for me.” <

he doesn’t hesitate when he sends this but simon does feel a twinge of guilt when he finally sees it in the message thread, something that snaps him outside of the fog just long enough to feel the way he’s been tightly gripping on his phone.

because what if this was too much? was he supposed to just hint at what happened? to dance around the tension until you two finally get to meet? to-

> “i miss how you filled me up.”

“fuck,” simon whispers to himself as he stares at your message, his voice a ragged timbre of his devastation. he almost drops his phone on the floor, seized by the greatness of his desires that is pumping blood to his ears and into his cock.

he swipes his eyes along your message once again, unearthing the sound of your voice from his memories as he envisions the way you would’ve said this – breathy, whimper-y, broken. your throat having been thoroughly used by simon.

“fuck,” he repeats, adjusting himself underneath his sweats before sending his reply.

“i filled you good, didn’t i, princess? kissed somewhere deep in you. deeper than anyone has ever reached.” <

simon feels like a fucking depraved teenager at the way his cock jumped just at the mere sight of the speech bubble appearing on your end, showing him that you’re typing up a response. he stares at his screen intently as though willing it to finally reveal the earth-shattering reply he knows you’re going to send, only to see the speech bubble disappear completely.

he blinks, confused, and restarts his messaging app at the thought that it’s glitching. when it finally reloads, simon tries not to drown in his disappointment when he sees no new received replies from you.

his fingers twitch, apology already forming from the back of his mind, ready to be typed out. he bounces his legs, worrying over the appropriate words to use because he truly is sorry. he-

a notification ping shakes him from his thoughts and simon realizes that his phone had turned off amidst his spiral. he breathes in shakily, gulping when he sees your contact name flashing on the screen – ‘princess’ – and taps at your icon.

oh.

“oh,” simon repeats out loud, his voice a warbled croak.

because who wouldn’t be breathless at this?

this being an image of you in nothing but simon’s zip-up jacket, the one that he lent you from that one fateful night when you two met up. it falls just past your pelvis, giving him a good glimpse of your thighs only to cut just above your knees, a grave loss that resonated with simon as he honest to god whimpers. it’s not zipped up all the way, stopping like a low v-cut on your chest which shows enough of your cleavage and your pretty tits that simon’s throat constrict in his thirst.

simon’s greedy eyes almost bypass your other message:

> “i wish you can tear my clothes off me again.”

he groans, feeling his cock leak from your message; from seeing you love his rough side.

he has to grip his phone as his unrelenting mind wanders, imagining the way he’d rip that jacket off your beautiful body. the way he wouldn’t even fully shrug it off you because simon wants to take you that way – surrounded with everything of him. his cock buried in your cunt, his hands braced on either side of your face, and his clothes grazing the skin with which his hands can’t caress. simon wants to envelope you with all that he is. with all that you will allow him to give.

fuck. he wants you. he needs you.

simon has to breathe through his mouth as he sends you a reply, choosing careful words to express his intention.

(but not to express the twinge of his darkness. of his possessiveness. not yet, anyway.)

“i’d do that and more, sweetheart.” <

he licks his lips, fingers hovering above his screen. thinking. hesitating. making up his mind. then, sending:

“wanna see what you do to me? how you make me so fucking hard?” <

simon absolutely moans at your beautiful, submissive reply:

> “yes, please.”

(what a good girl. and simon doesn’t even need to teach you how to be one. god, aren’t you just too perfect for him?)

#suns.f #biker!simon #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #clearly my instagram is telling me to get to it (as in replying to asks) but my god this thread is AMAZING #suns

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kamiversee · 1 month

Text

➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

✧.* CHAPTER 52 || The Things Done in Private

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, smut, & angst if u squint.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 4.6k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——WHILE YOU WERE BUSY confessing your love to Choso and having that long-ass conversation in his car, Geto and Yuki had been left in the cafe.

When you initially left to chase after Choso, Geto and Yuki turned to each other before laughing. They found the entire thing entertaining more than ever and swore they were watching a drama unfold.

But, after the shared laughter, Yuki smacked Geto’s arm, “Now, why the hell did you cause all that?” She asked with a raised brow.

Geto snickered, “Because there’s too much they don’t know about each other.”

Yuki scoffed, “Meaning?”

“I can’t explain it all to you since it’s not my place but, trust me when I say, there are things she needs to talk to him about,” Geto explained vaguely.

“Right… So you and her really were good friends?”

“We could’ve ended up besties,” Geto hums, shrugging to himself, “But, I didn’t want to put myself between her and…”

“Her and Choso?” Yuki questions with a tilt of her head.

“No, someone else,” Geto murmurs. He didn’t want to mention Gojo again because, in his mind, Yuki didn’t need to know all of your business, “Anyway, I brought up Sukuna to help the two. Watch them come back as a married couple within the next thirty minutes.”

Yuki scoffs, “Y’know what, let’s bet on it!” She exclaims, moving to stick her hand out, “Thirty minutes; she comes back alone ready to kick your ass because you fucked it all up for her.”

Geto snickers and moves to shake the blonde’s hand, “Thirty minutes; they come back together happier than ever.”

The two shake each other’s hands firmly, solidifying their bet and deciding that the loser would have to buy the winner something.

Turns out they were both wrong though because as they spent the rest of their time together talking and catching up, two hours had passed, and neither you nor Choso had returned. It was raining outside and the sound of thunder is what caused Geto to remember the bet made.

He turned to look out the window behind him, seeing how hard it was raining, and letting out a scoff, “Seems we were both wrong.”

“Think they’re okay?” Yuki asks.

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Geto shrugged, “Probably long gone by now anyway.”

Yuki sighed and moved to rest her cheek against her knuckles, “That’s no funn, they were supposed to come backkk…”

Geto shakes his head at the woman as he moves to stand up, her eyes following him, “It’s for the best, I’m sure. Plus, it started raining not too long after they walked out so it makes sense they didn't come back.”

She rolls her eyes at him, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Where are you going?”

“Home,” Geto sighs, “I have a roommate to feed.”

Yuki lets out a snort, “To feed? You talk about Gojo as if he were a pet.”

“He is sometimes,” The raven-haired male jokes, “But I meant I should go home and tell him what happened here, he’d want to know.”

She raises a brow, “Why?”

“He’s nosy and will wanna know why I stayed out longer than I told him I would,” Geto explains, chuckling to himself as he grabs his things.

“So basically,” Yuki starts laughing a bit, “You have to keep your boyfriend updated with your social life?”

Geto frowns, “He’s not my boyfriend, stop that.”

The woman begins to snicker, “Right, right, sure.”

Geto rolls his eyes and after grabbing his bag, he turns to walk away, “I’ll see you later, Yuki.”

“Oh come onn, you can’t just leave me here!” She huffs, “At least give me a ride homeee…”

“Nope, you’re the one who thought a bike would be a better investment than a car,” Geto replies as he furthers away from her.

The sound of her groaning dramatically is the last thing Geto hears before exiting the cafe. He was lucky enough to have an umbrella in the bag he brought with him so he quickly opened the item and swung it up and over his head.

Making his way through the parking lot, he sees that Choso’s car is no longer where it was earlier and the sight makes Geto curious. He then glances to where he remembers your car being parked and once he sees it was left in the same place, he smiles to himself.

He knew things would work out just fine.

After that, Geto makes it to his vehicle and steadily gets in. Today was quite the day and he started to wonder what his best friend was doing while you were here at the cafe all this time…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The answer to that was simple.

Gojo Satoru had been going through it at home. Since he had the apartment to himself and no Suguru to vent to because he was out, Gojo was quite literally losing his mind.

From the second you walked out the door, Gojo rested his head against it and wondered if he should go after you and take everything he said back. Perhaps there was a way for him to fix things-

Yeah, no. He purged those thoughts from his mind the moment they came. And of course, to make matters worse, you left him with an annoying tent in his pants.

Gojo let out a groan as he lifted his head from the door and trudged to his bedroom. He kicked his door shut and shuffled over to his bed, laying face first against it and grunting at the friction against his member.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Gojo grumbled to himself. It was one of those aggravating boners that wouldn’t die down.

You often left him like this too. Nearly every time Gojo had the pleasure of kissing you, he’d gotten hard. Whether it was during the kiss or directly after, it never mattered, his cock always sprung up because of you.

Hell, even on Christmas when you first hugged him he had to control his body. You made him feel like a teenager with the way the smallest touches from you went straight to his dick.

As of now, his tip was leaking in precum the more he thought about you. Gojo had to shift around to lay on his back, his legs hanging off the bed as he stared up at his ceiling still thinking about you.

Do you know what you do to him? Are you aware of how much the very idea of you turns him on? Gojo shuts his eyes to try and calm his thoughts but it’s no help, the second his eyelids shut, he’s picturing you all over again.

His hand moves on its own to rest over the bulge in his sweats as he has images of you staring up at him in his head, the sound of you uttering his name simply echoing through his brain.

Fuck, he loved the way you said his name. His fingers curl around his length and he palms himself through his clothes. He’d do anything to hear you moan his name again.

It feels like it’s been forever. Part of Gojo feels like he should’ve kept you with him longer. You were in such a perfect position too, all he’d have to do was lift you up against that door and fuck you right then and there.

His hand movements over the prominent print of his cock grow more eager and Gojo sighs heavily. Then, he decides that his boner isn’t going to go down on its own so he might as well just take care of it already.

Gojo starts to move around, shifting his sweats down enough and sitting up while pulling his phone out. He could use his imagination of you to get off no problem but, another idea had come to mind. It was perverted of him but he didn’t care.

His fingers tapped over his phone screen quickly, moving to head to the nearest social app, which in this case was Instagram. He knew yours by heart and was quick to type it in, feeling like such a pervert as he prepared himself for what he was about to do.

Gojo was beyond desperate so he went through your page, finding a picture of you from the summertime. The caption said something about the last photo being taken by Shoko but Gojo wasn’t paying attention to any of that.

There was a collection of images posted, one in particular imprinted in the man’s brain from a while ago. He swiped through the images before he landed on it. It was taken in a bathroom, dim lighting showing what was important and good god Gojo’s cock was twitching at the sight.

It was the only image posted that could be considered a thirst trap. You hand one hand on the counter and the other up at your lip, the pose seeming as though you were checking yourself out in the mirror. In your reflection, your cleavage was exposed and one of the straps to the thin tank top you wore was hanging off your shoulder.

You were braless but no one could really tell unless they paid close enough attention, which Gojo did. Then, the entirety of your back profile was revealed as well, the arch you had as you leaned forward and the way the small shorts you wore clung to your ass made Gojo let out a heavy breath.

This was so fucked up. He shouldn’t be doing this but there he was anyway, reaching his hand into his briefs and tugging his cock out.

So much of your skin was exposed and the shorts you were wearing was the perfect tease. Gojo knew what you looked like beneath all that after all, he knows what you feel like, what you smell like, what you sound like.

So, this photo of you was just enough to feed his imagination. He knew you at the time this picture was taken, just never talked to you.

Even so, none of that mattered right now, not when this one photo was enough to have Gojo’s mind running rampant. His hand started moving on its own, a groan leaving his lips as his fingers wrapped around his cock and he began to jerk himself off.

He’d done this plenty of times with you in mind but never to a photo before. What would you think if you saw him like this? Legs spread, veiny hands running up and down his shaft as his eyes remained glued to such a teasing picture.

“Fuck,” Gojo moaned, just thinking about you ever seeing him like this drove him crazy.

He soon tosses his phone and just leans back a little, focusing on relieving himself. All he needed was that image in mind to continue, his imagination coaxing him through his acts.

Gojo let out a pant as he started to picture you instead of his hand. He remembered so vividly how you forced him to list all the things he missed about you whilst teasing him, the way your index was swirling around his tip so teasingly— he mimicked the motion and had to bite his lip to conceal a whine.

He recalls how small your hand is compared to his cock and the way you’d jerked him off so slowly. Gojo has every moment with you imprinted into the forefront of his brain, if he thinks hard enough, he could almost feel you over him again.

Your cunt was always so damn wet, so tight, so fucking intoxicating. Gojo’s hand began to increase in pace, slick sounds of him jerking off filling his room. He wishes that the last time he had sex with you, he was able to touch you because fuck is it torture to think back on it now.

He wanted so badly to grab onto your hips and fuck his lengthy cock up into you, only to praise you for taking him so well. And then there was today and the sounds you let out just from a couple of kisses. How whiney and breathy your voice had been as you’d uttered a simple don’t stop while grinding against his leg.

Gojo missed touching you already. His eyes shut for a moment and his lips parted, a whine of your name leaving his lips. Now he was making up scenarios in his head, using that picture you posted as inspiration. He could only imagine the kind of sounds and expressions you’d make if he was ever able to fuck you from behind.

He can picture how your eyes would roll back, the way your jaw would drop and you’d moan his name over and over, and even how your ass would feel bouncing off his pelvis every time he thrust into you. Gojo would take any kind of sex from you right now.

Sloppy sex where it’s all just a mess and both of you are completely fucked out, slow sex where he’s deep inside you and whispering in your ear how much he loves you, or even rough sex where he’s fucking you dumb and hearing you whine about how you can’t take it— even though he knows you can.

“S-Shit-,” Gojo moans again, knowing that you can handle him just makes his mind go blank.

Hell, you’d probably tease him if he were to have sex with you now, tell him how he’s not deep enough just to rile him up, order him to fuck you harder, and cum inside you. Gojo’s wrist was getting tired from how hard and fast he began stroking his dick.

He needed you so badly. He could hardly bring himself to a proper orgasm anymore. His eyes open and his free hand reaches for his phone again, this time he does something even more desperate. Gojo went to his voicemails, having one saved from you.

It was a while ago and you were cursing him out for something but his brain was too dazed with arousal to remember. What he wanted to hear was simply you saying his name. His thumb was shaking a bit as he went through the message you left, up until he heard your voice mutter his name.

“Satoru-,” He couldn’t hear anything else after that and his head went back, hand stroking himself even faster as he replayed that second of you voicing his name.

“Mmgh… fuck, n-need you s’bad, sweetheart,” He mumbled out, as if you could hear him. Gojo was releasing his moans and groans more freely now.

He soon looked down at how his hand slid up and down his cock so quickly, the amount of precum that’d come out smothering his length and making it seem like he already came. Gojo whined and even whimpered when he pictured you above him, you rode his dick so well that he’d never be able to forget it.

He vividly recalls how your folds parted around his cock, how eagerly your cunt sucked him in. Shit, speaking of sucking, he wished he got to experience that mouth of yours.

Geto bragged about it to him before, telling him you knew how to throat cock surprisingly well. How you’d keep your eyes up despite them watering and flicking to the back of your head. The way you felt moaning around his shaft-, Gojo was losing it.

He had dropped his phone to the side again and his free hand went to his bedsheets, knuckles turning white as his fingers curled into them. His cock ached in his hand, tip twitching as he started to cum mid-stroke.

He didn’t stop though, whimpering out your name so softly as his dick remained hard and he started overstimulating himself.

“Oh shit-,” Gojo moaned into the air, “F-Fuck, fuck… god-,” He tossed his head back again and the wet sounds of him jerking off grew even louder and messier as he spread his cum all over his cock.

You had him this much of a mess. He got this horny because of you. Gojo doesn’t know if he’s ever feined for sex from a specific person this badly in his life. He’d take anything from you, even a text from you right now would help him.

He ended up laying back as he kept stroking himself, recalling the smallest moments with you to get himself off. For example, when you had sex with Suguru, he remembers how you moaned and how loud everything was. He remembers the sound of you creaming around his best friend.

Gojo’s member was twitching again while he remembered how loudly the slap of your skin to his best friend’s was. His hand squeezes around his cock and he chokes as he recalls you riding him in a similar way. His dick had just slipped in and out of you so nicely, so perfectly, he wanted to feel that again.

Then Gojo could only imagine what you were like with other guys, what things you did with them, and how you looked doing so.

He cums yet again at the thought and wonders if you knew the things you did to his body. His orgasm was fine but he swore it’d be better if you were here.

Gojo’s hand eventually came to a stop and he relaxed himself, his cock softening as he huffed out heavy pants. How the hell was he ever going to function properly without you?

He knows he has to but it’d be hard. Did he really just let you go? He could’ve kept blackmailing you…

No. You’d hate that. You’d probably cry. Yeah, Gojo didn’t like thinking about that again. Seeing you cry and even once hearing you cry over the phone still haunted him.

He just finished jerking off to you and now all he can think about is the shit he put you through. But hey, at least it’s over now, right? At least you’re happy.

And safe.

That’s all he cares about at the end of the day. Gojo’s heart will heal. He’ll move on eventually. He’ll go back to normal sooner or later.

Right?

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Wrong. Within the next hour, Gojo was jerking off again.

He had a problem at this point because he was standing beside his bed with a picture of you on his phone as he got off to it. These acts of his just continued.

The slightest thought of you for some reason made his cock twitch back to life. Was he in heat or something? It’s like his body was craving you today more than ever and he didn’t know why.

Sessions of getting off to different pictures and thoughts of you went on and on up until the sound of Geto calling Gojo’s name was heard.

By that point, Gojo was sweating and he had to rush around his bedroom to clean himself off before responding to his roommate.

“Uh, g-gimme’ a sec’,” Gojo huffed.

Even from outside his room, Geto knew what had been going on. After all, it wasn’t the first time he came home to Gojo thirsting after you. Hell, there was a time Geto walked by the bathroom and heard Gojo moan your name.

He knew his white-haired friend had a problem but he never really knew just how bad it was. Or at least, he didn’t know Gojo was simply obsessed with you.

“Satoru, you can’t keep doing this man,” Geto sighed out to his friend.

They hadn’t even laid eyes on one another and Geto already knew what was taking Gojo so long to come out.

After a minute or two, Gojo emerges from his room. Geto had to blink a few times at the sight of his best friend because he was simply a mess.

His hair was disheveled, his eyes were low, heavy pants leaving his lips, the shirt he clearly just put on already had sweat on it, and overall Gojo looked like he just run a marathon.

“Can’t keep doing what?” Gojo questioned casually.

Geto gave the man a blank stare as if to say he’s not dumb and he knew his best friend better than anyone but, afterward, he simply rolled his eyes, “Never mind.” He hums before turning away and heading toward their shared kitchen.

Gojo carefully followed behind his friend as he tried to clear his thoughts of you, “What do you mean never mind? I can’t keep doing what?”

“Jerking off to a woman who’s in love with someone else,” Geto says bluntly.

There’s a slight pang in Gojo’s chest but he ignores it as they both enter the kitchen, “I wasn’t-“

“Satoru, as soon as I walked in here, it smelt like dick…” He grumbles, his face twisting up in slight disgust.

“I-,” Gojo blinks and tilts his head innocently, “How do you know what dick smells like?”

Geto turns and looks at his friend with a blank stare, “I have one, idiot.”

“Okay but-“

“Enough, Satoru.” Geto says sternly, “I know what you were doing in there and there’s no need to deny it.”

“Right…” Gojo’s lips purse together as he goes to take a seat at the island in the middle of their kitchen.

“And I actually ran into your nut material earlier today.” The raven-haired male suddenly says before opening the fridge.

Gojo scoffs, “Nut material? Please don’t call her that.”

Geto snickers at his own comment, “That’s what you treat her like.”

Gojo frowns, “I do not-“

“Saw her with Choso, by the way.” Geto interrupts as he swipes a bottle of water out of the fridge.

“Oh.” Gojo chirps. Then his eyes go wide, “Oh?!”

“Yeah, oh.” He hums.

“How uh,” Gojo swallows hard. He can only imagine what it was like for you to be in the same area as Geto and Choso at the same time, “How did that go?”

“Oh I started an argument.” Geto shrugs before shutting the fridge and opening his water casually.

Gojo’s face twists up, “You what? Why would you do that? And how?”

“Brought up Sukuna just to test the waters, turns out she doesn’t know much about him aaaand Choso was obviously unaware that she slept with him.” Geto snickers a bit as he recalls how it went down.

“Y-You… You could’ve fucked everything up for her!” Gojo suddenly shouts.

His roommate doesn’t seem to get why that’s a bad thing, “Wouldn’t that have worked out in your favor?”

“No, no the fuck it wouldn’t have.” Gojo spits.

“And why not?”

“Because-,” Gojo lets out a heavy sigh, “The only reason she fucked Sukuna is because of me so who do you think she would’ve started hating again?”

Geto nods, thinking that his friend has made a fair point before he comments, “But at least she would’ve come back to you.”

“Yeah, come back to me hurting and pissed off.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Suguru, I don't want her to be with me, I want her to be happy,” Gojo explains.

His friend raises a brow at him, “Your actions say otherwise.”

“How?”

“When she left on Christmas you went in your room and cried the rest of the night.” He recalls.

Gojo scoffs, “I-“

“You don’t go a day without talking about her.” Geto continues.

“Suguru-“

“You’ve been talking about this woman for like three years now,” He reminds the man, “I’m not sure happiness is what you want for her. I think you just want her.”

Gojo stares for a long moment before looking away, “Well I can’t have her.”

“Why not?”

“Because I blackmailed her?” He says.

Geto tilts his head, “So?”

“What do you mean so?”

“Did she not forgive you?”

“Well she did but-“

“Then why couldn’t she have been with you?”

Gojo lets out a groan, “Because that’s fucked up, Suguru.”

“I think we established that a long time ago.” Geto scoffs, “Who cares if it’s fucked up? You pushed her away from you when she wanted to be fucked up with you.”

“She didn’t. She hated me and hated loving me even more.”

“And she has every right to but you’re missing the most important thing here; she loved you.”

“She shouldn’t have.”

“But she did.”

“Okay well, I can’t make her happy.” Gojo results in saying as he shrugs.

Geto bats his eyelashes at the man in confusion, “Why not?”

“Because I just can’t.”

“I don’t get you, y’know. You can’t even tell me what’s going on and I’m your best friend?”

“It doesn’t matter now anyway,” Gojo dismisses his question entirely, “The list is over and she’s happy.”

“Is she?” Geto challenges.

“Yes, yes she is.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I just do.”

Geto blinks, “That makes no sense-“

“Suguru, she’s happy now. Alright? Just leave it alone.” Gojo sighs.

The two get quiet after that. Geto moves to sip from his water and Gojo simply sits there with a tense expression.

After a while of silence, Geto just begins to explain how the entire cafe situation went from start to finish. He tells Gojo how he basically spilled the necessary info in order to give you the opportunity to tell Choso the truth.

Gojo asks why exactly he did that and Geto just tells him that he was right, you did seem happy but he knew that happiness wouldn’t last if the things you’d been doing never came to light. Again, Gojo gets upset and the two even argue about it.

That only results in Geto telling Gojo how you and Choso worked it all out anyway because when he left, your car was still there but Choso’s wasn’t.

Gojo couldn’t believe his best friend, even though the man was trying to help you, things could’ve gone so much worse for you. And knowing that made Gojo anxious because his best friend said that either way— Gojo would win.

If things went bad between you and Choso, you would’ve come back to Gojo without a doubt. But, since things went fine, Gojo still got what he wanted, which is you being happy.

So, Geto basically explains that what he caused was a win-win situation for his roommate who he knows cares oh so deeply about you.

Given that, by the end of their conversation, Gojo is still bothered by the chance of things almost going south for you but, he’s still thankful to his best friend to some extent. It’s not the worst thing that could’ve happened after all…

Thus resulting in Gojo back in his bedroom later that night, staring at your contact and wondering if he should call you. He didn’t want to ruin anything of course, he simply wanted to get info from you on how things went.

He knows you ended up leaving with Choso but that doesn’t tell him everything else that happened. Then again, Gojo is supposed to see you again to burn that cursed journal of yours so, he shuts his phone off and decides to simply wait until then.

He’ll learn everything when he sees you again and hopefully… Hopefully Gojo will be able to let you go. There’s too much guilt inside him to hold onto you any longer so he sees the burning of that journal as the end of a dark era for him.

That’ll be the end of his story with you, right?

Yeah, Gojo grins to himself, he thinks he can live with that.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

mlist || previous chapt || next chpt

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

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coldfanbou · 3 months

Text

More Than A Bath

I mixed things up a little with a soapland theme. I hope y'all enjoy

Length 2.7K

Nako x Mreader X Kazuha

You look up at the sign and take a deep breath. There were murmurs that she worked here, but you didn’t think it was true. You click your phone and check the time: 10 pm. The shop is supposed to be open now. You walk up to the door and step inside. The front room was decorated in such a way that it looked like a casino. To your left was a man behind the counter wiping it down. “Welcome! I haven’t seen your face before. Is it your first time here?”

You nod your head, “It is.”

“Welcome to the Royal Flush. We offer great relaxation for men after a long day's work. We have a few options here, starting at thirty minutes and going up to two hours. That said, you can extend it up to another two hours.” The man motions to a blank board behind him before turning around. “My apologies; I forgot to turn this thing on. Just a moment.” He goes under his desk, flicking a button, causing the screen to light up with pictures of women on playing cards. You couldn’t see anyone who looked like her, though. He motions to the screen. “As you can see, we have many ladies available to help you. You can choose any one of them for your time here. Or if you’re feeling lucky, you can play the roulette.”

“What’s the roulette?”

“I’m glad you asked, sir. The roulette is a wheel that gives you the chance to get two women for the price of one and even enables some that are usually reserved for special customers. The price to play is a little higher than choosing from the board, but if you hit the jackpot, you get two women for four hours. At worst, you’re paying a little more for our basic thirty-minute service, but at best, you’ll have the best night of your life. All you have to do is predict the space the ball will land in. What would you like, sir?”

You consider the chance the rumors were true, and she was just for special customers. “I choose the roulette.” After taking your money, the man smiles and asks you for a number. You choose the number she had ended up with on the show, six. The screen behind the man changes to a roulette wheel, and he begins the game. The ball on-screen moves around the roulette wheel, and while you don’t have high hopes for getting it right, you hope you’ll at least get something good.

As the ball begins to slow down, you see it coming up on your number. Time slows down as the ball approaches the number six spot and swings past it one more time before coming around again. The ball loses momentum as it hits one of the ball deflectors, and miraculously, it plops into the six slot. The man smiles at you, “How rare.” He says, a slight amusement in his voice. “Congratulations, sir, you’ve hit the jackpot. You’ll be allowed to choose two women to help you relax and choose from our special menu. That being said, not everyone is in, so you’ll have limited choices.” The screen behind the man changes again to show different women than before, and immediately, you spot her. Nako was working here. You continue to look at the boar, seeing other idols on it. Some of them greyed out to show they were unavailable.

“How do you get them to come when they’re so busy with other activities?”

“They need to relax too. All things considered, they come here pretty often. So who would you like?” You look back at the board, seeing other Japanese idols like Twice’s J-line and members of Le Sserafim.

“I’d like Nako and Kazuha.”

“Great choices. Here is your room number. They’ll be there in a moment. You may take the elevator to the top floor.” You give the man a nod and head to your room. Thoughts run through your mind. You never expected to find out that idols would work at some place like this. You hadn’t even considered what you would do now that you were faced with meeting Nako and Kazuha.

When you get to your room, you tap the card the man gave you and step inside. It was a fully furnished apartment on the inside. You walk further in, seeing the view from your floor. You could see block after block of the city from your room. Wanting to look at the other rooms, you first come across the bathroom; poking your head inside, you see the usual inflatable you had seen in porn and notice the giant bath behind it. The floor was all tile, with a drain in the corner of the room. You check the other side of your room, seeing it was just a bedroom. Checking through the dressers, you notice sex toys and condoms, among other things.

You hear a small beep from the front and head back to the living room to see Nako and Kazuha standing there. What’s immediately noticeable is their lack of clothing. Both are wearing just their bra and panties, only after you notice their hair being up. You gulp, nervous and unable to say a word. They give you a small smile and wave, obviously used to being seen in their state. Nako takes the lead, walking up to you and wrapping her around your back. “Take good care of us.” She says, her head on your chest. She shines a smile your way before letting you go.

Kazuha pats the short woman’s bottom, “Would you like to get started, sir?”

“I would.”

“This way, then.” Kazuha grabs your arm, pressing it against her modest breasts as she leads you to the bath. Nako grabs your other arm. Kazuha turns the water on for the bath, and the pair begin to strip you down, working quickly.

“Oh, look at this.” Nako teases as she pulls down your pants. Your bulge was obvious to everyone. She runs her small hands along it before kneeling and rubbing her face against it. “Ah, it’s been so long. Kazuha, aren’t you excited?” She says, looking at the younger woman. She grabs Kazuha’s hand, placing it on your crotch. “It’s big, huh?” Kazuha’s cheeks turn red, and she looks away from you, embarrassed. “Let’s get these off.” Nako tugs at your underwear until it finally comes off, your cock smacking her forehead. She’s stunned for a second but quickly laughs it off. Her small hand struggles to wrap itself around your shaft. “You are big!” She exclaims with a huge smile on her face. You groan as she strokes your shaft. While Nako plays with your cock, Kazuha takes off the little clothing she has, unhooking her bra and tossing it near the door before stepping out of her panties. Your attention quickly returns to Nako as you feel her tongue running back and forth over your cock.

“Ah, Nako.” You moan, feeling your knees get weak from the sudden pleasure. She giggles before continuing.

“We should get you in the bath,” Kazuha says as she strips Nako of her bra. “Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Nako?” Nako has a slight frown on her face but agrees, letting you go to remove her panties. Kazuha leads you into the tub, stepping in to test the water. The tub was wide enough to comfortably fit the three of you, with Nako on one side and Kazuha on the other. The shorter woman couldn’t seem to keep her hands off you. She reached for your cock, stroking it slowly as she pressed her tits into your arm. Kazuha sees what Nako is doing and joins in, turning onto her side and cupping your balls as she drags her nipples along your arm. You’re eyes are glued to Nako as she steadily moves her hand along your shaft. She plants her lips on yours and speeds up. You grunt in response, struggling to do much else. Your hand wraps around Nako, squeezing her tit and making her moan. Her devilish smile grows as her grip on your shaft tightens. Kazuha begins to whisper into your ear as you focus on Nako. “You’ve got Nako wrapped around your finger. Did you know she’s on birth control? You can cum inside her all you’d like.” Kazuha’s sensual voice continues, “I’m on birth control too. I wouldn’t mind if you gave me a few creampies either.”

Your cock begins to twitch in Nako’s hand. “Don’t cum so quickly. We’re just getting started. Kazuha and I still need to wash your body. Maybe we should use the mat. You’d like that, right? It would mean we get to use our entire body.” You nod along and get out of the bath with Nako and Kazuha. They place you on the inflatable mat. Nako grinds on your leg, lightly moaning as she stares at your cock. Kazuha had gathered water and soap to clean your body before seeing Nako enjoying herself. She huffs and puts everything on the floor before getting behind the petite woman.

“Nako, you’re forgetting your job. We’re supposed to be making the customer feel good.” She says, grabbing Nako’s small breasts and squeezing them. The short woman throws her head back and moans.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Nako asks as she grinds on your leg. “I just need a little release.”

“Nako, you’re being a slut in front of our customer,” Kazuha responds, digging her fingers into Nako’s skin.

“I’m a slut. I’m a slut,” Nako cries. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.” She breaks free from Kazuha’s grip and moves up to your crotch, rocking against your cock. Nako quickly raises herself and slams herself onto your cock. You fill the room with moans as you cum as soon as you’re buried inside Nako. You’re not the only one, though, as Nako cums with you. Feeling your warm cum flood into her cunt, Nako slowly grinds against you as she moans. Nako moves her fingers along her clit, rubbing it in small circles. “Ah, so full. I feel so hot, Kazuha.” You feel Nako’s cunt milking your cock. She was tight, her walls squeezing you with a lot of force. Your eyes are glued to Nako, watching as she pleasures herself. You don’t notice Kazuha fingering herself as she watches Nako. She’s groping herself and pushing her fingers deeper into her cunt as Nako begins to move again. Nako leaves just the head inside before swallowing your cock in one movement. You stifle your moan while Nako lets hers fill the room. “You’re so big. Look here.” Nako says, pointing at a bulge. She presses on it; you grunt, realizing the bulge was because of you. Nako begins bouncing on your cock, moving at a steady pace as she gets used to your size. She holds your thighs and throws her head back as she moans, noticing Kazuha standing there.

“Come on, Kazuha, join us. You’ll be in heaven.” Nako says, humming in bliss as she slams herself down, moving her hips to please both of you. Kazuha gets beside you, taking one of your hands and moving it toward her now aching cunt. “No, Kazuha ride him.” Nako says as she continues to use you. Kazuha looks at you, her face bright red, before nodding. She silently positions herself over your face, trying to lower herself gently. She was taking a little too long for you, and you decided to pull her down. Your tongue pushes past her wet lips, diving inside her. You felt Kazuha squirm on top of you; she placed her hands on your chest as she let a river of moans flow out from her. “It feels good, doesn’t it? Just wait until this is inside you.” Nako tells her coworker as she rubs the bulge. Kazuha's breathing quickens as she feels your tongue lapping at her walls. She struggles to keep herself up. Nako sees her friend struggling and lifts Kazuha’s head before kissing her. “I love seeing you like this.” Nako seems almost drunk on the pleasure she’s receiving; she plays with Kazuha’s tit, attaching herself to her nipple and swirling her tongue around it.

You dig your hands into Kazuha’s waist, keeping her in place. She began to grind against your face, the pleasure making her go crazy. The pleasure from you and Nako was pushing her toward the edge. She started to whimper as she closed in on her climax. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to cum yet.” She whined as she came. Kazuha’s body twitched as she came, her body rocking uncontrollably. Nako smiled, loving the sight of Kazuha cumming on your face. You lap up her sweet nectar, making the younger woman shiver before she falls to the side.

“Can you give me a taste?” Nako asks as she leans in. You were more than willing to share, pushing your tongue into her mouth. You sat up and grabbed Nako’s waist. You held her for a moment before moving her up and down your shaft. She began to groan as you took control of her. You rammed every inch into Nako’s small body, enjoying as her cries of pleasure came more often and eventually turned into whines. “I’m going to cum. I’m- I’m cumming!” Nako screamed as you continued to use her. Your cock began to twitch inside her cunt, and you told her to get ready for another creampie. “F-fuck, do it cum in me,” Nako whined as you impaled her on your shaft and shot your cum into her. Nako’s walls clamped down around your cock, rubbing the head and making you want to go deeper. Your cum flooded Nako’s pussy, leaking out of her before you even pulled out. You take a good look at Nako, the blissful expression on her face, the drool running down her cheek as her mind goes.

Nako collapses on you, her cunt still squeezing your cock long after your orgasm ended. You lift her off and turn to Kazuha. She was face down on the floor, still recovering. Your eyes move down her smooth back until you notice her shapely bottom. You get behind her and stroke your cock, getting yourself ready for another round.

With your other hand, you grab Kazuha’s waist and lift her ass. You press your cock against her entrance and slowly push yourself inside the young woman. “Ah, you're stretching my pussy,” She groans weakly. Kazuha manages to get her arms under herself and push her face off the floor. She looks over her shoulder to see you pushing yourself inside. Kazuha’s walls welcomed you, snuggly wrapping around your cock as you rested inside her. You were close to cumming, sensitive from your last orgasm. Still, you pushed onward, beginning to thrust into the young woman, your pace picking up. You have to dig your fingers into Kazuha’s waist to keep her from moving. As you’re pounding away at her body, you can’t help but look at Kazuha’s beautiful ass; you pull back your hand and slam it into her soft ass. She yelps from the hit. A handprint begins to form because of the force used, but Kazuha begs you to do it again.

You drive your hand into her ass again. She moans this time, loving the pain. Nako comes around, lying on the inflatable mattress and looking at Kazuha. Her fingers playing with her clit as she watches. You’re getting turned on by having Nako watch you and begin to move faster, slamming yourself into Kazuha without a second thought. The young woman’s moans become louder, and her walls clamp down around your cock. You were both nearing your climax. You couldn’t hold it any longer and buried yourself inside Kazuha, filling her womb with your cum. Your orgasm triggered hers. As soon as she felt your thick cum fill her, Kazuha arced her back and came on your cock. You could hear Nako teasing Kazuha, but her words were muddled as you focused in on the image of Kazuha’s back.

When you start to regain yourself, you hear Nako’s voice. “We still have three hours, Kazuha. How are you going to last that long?” Nako pinched the younger woman’s cheeks. “Are you going to make me take him the whole time? I don’t mind, but you have to be professional.” Nako turns her attention to you. “Why don’t we head for the bedroom? We can take Kazuha with us. She loves watching.” You nod your head, ready to spend more time with Nako.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #izone smut #le sserafim smut #yabuki nako smut #kazuha smut

689 notes · View notes

linopls · 7 months

Text

kinktober day four

roleplay hyunjin x fem!reader summary: hyunjin has invited you to his art studio where he says you need to brush up on some of your basic art skills. warnings: professor/college student roleplay, lots of praising, nipple play, unprotected p in v 1.2k words

“are you sure you should be asking a student that, mr. hwang?” you’re sat on one of the stools in the middle of hyunjin’s small art studio. he’s sat across from you, an easel with a large canvas acting as a barrier between you.

he peeks out from behind the easel and pushes his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “knowing basic human anatomy is a very important basic art skill all my students should have an understanding of.”

“but how am i supposed to learn when you’re the one painting?” you ask while slowly starting to unbutton your shirt.

“a bit of a smart ass, aren’t you?” he retorts, tying his hair back and out of his face.

you giggle and slide the silky white fabric of the shirt down your arms and toss it at the foot of his easel.

“now your skirt,” hyunjin instructs while picking up one of the large brushes from his side table and dabbing into a color and smearing it on the canvas.

you stand up from the stool and make a show of sliding your skirt down to the floor and kicking it with your shirt.

“do you often forget to wear panties when you're having one-on-one meetings with your professors?” hyunjin asks, observing as you sit back on the stool.

“just the hot ones,” you tease.

hyunjin chuckles and makes his way to where you are sitting. “i’m gonna put you in a pose, and you can’t move or you’ll mess up my proportions, okay?”

you nod and hyunjin slowly parts your legs to face his easel. he places one of your hands on one of your knees and the other to rest gently on your exposed clit. you gasp slightly at the sensation. hyunjin then positions your head to look directly at the easel. he moves back to his seat and admires the positon for a second.

“hmm,” he thinks aloud. “that works.”

he sits back on his stool and grabs another brush and begins to work on the canvas. you’re entranced by his focus expression looking to your and back to the canvas.

“you’re doing so well for me, staying still,” hyunjin praises.

his words run straight to your core and you whimper softly. the gentle feeling of your fingers resting over your clit are driving you insane.

after about thirty minutes of working silence, hyunjin sighs and leans back to look at the canvas.

“what’s wrong, mr. hwang?” you ask.

he doesn’t answer you, instead he gets up from the stool again and walks behind you. you notice the tent in his pants as he makes his way around you and you can help the rush of arousal that runs to your core.

you feel hyunjin’s soft fingers on your back and fidgeting with your bras clasp. you feel the clasp release and your lacy bra fall down your arms, getting caught on your arms. hyunjin walks back to stand in front of you and assists in moving your arms from the spots to remove your bra and places your arms back.

“i need to see your full beautiful figure to finish my painting,” hyunjin purrs, moving one of his hands to your breast and pinching one of your nipples between his finger tips. you moan out in response and hyunjin smiles and sits back on his stool and begins working again.

in between one of his glaces from your body to his canvas hyunjin smirks.

“what are you thinking, mr. hwang?” you ask, curious about his expression change.

“i’m debating on if i should paint the puddle you’ve made on my stool,” he laughs.

you face flushes a deep run and you quickly look down at the stool below you.

“i didn’t say you could move,” hyunjin snaps. you quickly look back up at him and fix your pose.

hyunjin laughs again. “i’m doing final touches now, it’ll only be a minute longer.”

he keeps to his word and as the minute passes hyunjin turns the easel around to face you. you stare at the painting for a bit. embarrassed that its your naked body on the canvas, but amazed by his ability to capture details in such a short amount of time.

“it looks amazing, mr. hwang,” you say sweetly.

“thank you, y/n.” he smiles.

“will you now tell me how i can improve my own work?” you ask.

“touch yourself for me,” hyunjin says blankly. “you deserve a reward for being so good for me.”

you whimper and slowly and finally put pressure on your begging clit. you rub small circles on the aching bud and hyunjin watches in awe. after a minute, hyunjin unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants down just enough to free his aching cock.

hyunjin notices your attention shift from his face to his cock. “come here, y/n.”

you quickly get up from the wet stool and make your way in front of hyunjin. “yes, mr. hwang?”

hyunjin puts his hands on your hips and guides you to stand above his lap. he grabs his cock with one of his hands and lines it up with your entrance. you slowly slide down on his member and wrap your legs around hyunjin’s middle. you place your hands on his shoulders to balance yourself and hyunjin moves his hands down to cup your ass and meets his lips with yours.

hyunjin kisses you with passion and lust like never before. he begins to thrust his hips up to meet yours and you both into each other's mouths. hyunjin stands up from the stool and walks you both over to his desk and sits you down on it. he breaks away from the kiss and places one of his hands on your hip and the other to cup your cheek.

“mr. hwang, please fuck me,” you purr.

“jesus,” hyunjin moans.

he slowly slides his cock out of your slick hole and slams it back in quickly. he starts to fuck into you at a steady pace. you move one of your hands down to your clit and rub circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves. you unconsciously clench down on his cock and hyunjin hisses and quickens his actions.

you both moan out loudly and hyunjin moves his head so that his mouth is next to your ear.

“do you fuck all your professors, y/n?” hyunjin grunts.

you shake your head, “no, just you.”

“good girl,” hyunjin moans.

he moves his hand from your cheek and grabs the underneath of your knee and push it up against your body. the new position has you seeing stars and moaning out of control.

“hyunjin! please!” you cry.

“what did you just call me?” hyunjin grunts.

“i’m sorry!” you exclaim. “mr. hwang, i’m sorry.”

“good girl, good girl,” he says before pulling you into another kiss.

you whimper loudly and feel yourself coming closer to your release. you pull away first.

“mr. hwang, can i cum please?” you whimper.

“fuck, yes, cum with me, please.” hyunjin moans. he quickened his pace and with a few more thrusts you both finish with loud moans and cries.

hyunjin slowly continues to fuck both of your through your orgasms and you rest your tired head onto his chest. when hyunjin stops he sighs loudly and places one of his hands on the back of your head and rubs small circles on your scalp.

“you’re such a good student, y/n,” hyunjin giggles.

“thank you, mr. hwang,” you mumble into his soft chest.

HYUNJIN GLASSES >>>>>>

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nctsplug02 · 7 months

Note

Soft dom husband!mark , coming tired from practice and just needs his wife, fluff and smut pls add whatever u think will be fine, your mind works better than mine lol

Love your writings♡♡

Shower Sex M.Lee

GENRE: fluff, smut, married couple.

WARNINGS: shower sex

it was eleven-thirty at night and mark still wasn’t home.

the door unlocking has your ears perked up and has you pushing off the couch. you pause your show and walk towards the front door of the penthouse.

your husband walks in with his duffle bag hanging from his shoulder and his beanie nearly falling off.

“hey, markie. welcome home.” mark looks up and instantly smile. “oh, baby.” mark stumbles forward and drops his bag, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck.

“didn’t wanna use the elevator tonight?” your hands softly pat marks back and head. “it’s been such a long day and.. i really.. really needed to see you.” mark sighs heavily.

you pinch his red ears and smooth the shell. “i’ll reheat dinner and we can talk about how today was while we eat, yeah?”

mark pulls away from you and rubs his eyes. “i know— i’m sorry, baby. i wasn’t home for dinner.” you shake your head and kick the door shut with your foot, the top lock locks instantly.

“that’s alright, baby.” you cup marks face and you kiss his lips. “wanna take a shower instead? you’re kind of stinky.” you say with a giggle.

mark follows your giggle and groans. “i’d love to and i really don’t want to be a pain in the ass but.. i’m really sore and..” mark sighs and rubs his face.

“yes, mark. i can help wash you, that’s fine. you’ve been at practice for over twelve hours, you deserve a break and some caretaking.” you take his hand and drag him to the bathroom.

you don’t bother closing the door since it was just you and mark who lived in the small penthouse.

you undress mark who vents to you about his day, telling you how he barely took breaks because he didn’t want to mess up for their performances.

“okay, go in the shower first. i’m gonna grab some to towels and i’ll join you in a second.” you push mark towards the running shower but the butt naked man watches as you leave and come back with a stack of towels.

“mark,” you whine when seeing him just standing there . “you were supposed to go in the shower and soak up first.” you set the stack of towels on the toilet lid.

“i know,” mark bites his lip and places a hand on the door handle. “just wanted to wait for you.” he whispers and enters the shower.

you shake your head and undress yourself before joining mark in the hot, steaming shower.

“mm, the water feels amazing.” you shut your eyes and sigh. “you mind if i turn the water a bit colder?” you open your eyes to see mark already holding the faucet. “whatever helps you relax, baby.”

you let out a little gasp when the water turns icy cold. “geez,” you mumble, looking down when feeling your nipples grow crazy hard.

“sorry, babe.” mark holds your waist and rubs little circles on your soft skin.

you grab your navy blue loofa and squirt some watermelon body wash onto it, fluffing it up and turning to mark.

“you’ve been working so hard, markie.” you turn him around and scrub the loofa on his back. “i’m so proud of you, markie.” you then scrub his shoulders, a moan exhales from marks throat. “you’re a bit tight there, mark. i’ll give you a massage when we get out.” mark rolls his neck and sighs.

you turn him around and begin to rub the loofa on his chest. “you’re smelling a lot better than before.” you giggle and watch as he inhales the watermelon scent with a giggle.

you move down to his abs, lubing his body with the scented bubbles. “oh,” you stop when seeing how hard mark was.

you look up at mark who bites his lip and flexes his abs making his cock twitch and nudge your arm.

“should i wash this too?” you move the loofa down to his cock. “oh, fuck.” mark gasps and jerks, quickly grabbing your hand and looking down at you.

you bite your lip and grin. “may i?” mark takes in your puppy eyes and nods. you drop the loofa and grab mark by the base.

“you’re so hard.” you whisper, jerking him off and washing away the bubbles. “geez, y/n.” mark groans as you take him in your mouth.

you circle your tongue around his tip and tease his tiny slit. you moan around him as the tip of your tongue massages right under his head.

“ooh, fuck.” mark pants, placing a hand on your head and forcing himself to stop himself before he gets out of hand.

you drop your hands and look up at mark, softly nodding and allowing him to fuck your face. you shut your eyes while mark forces his cock down your throat.

your throat tightens around mark and he moans loudly. his noises bouncing off the tight shower walls. “fuck, y/n. f—fuck!” mark pants and groans, hugging your head and keeping his stuttering hips in place.

marks cum shooting down your throat while you choke and slap his thigh. “just a little bit more, baby.” mark mutters, bucking his hips as if your nose wasn’t already touching his abdomen.

marks tip tickling the back of your throat causing you to gag. your eyes water and tears slip past your cheeks.

you gasp and fall on your ass when mark releases you. you wipe the drool from your chin and attempt to catch your breath. globs of tears slip down your cheeks and the shower quickly washes them away.

“i’m sorry, baby.” mark helps you up and hugs your body against his. “i got a bit outta control.” mark presses a few kisses on your shoulder and jaw.

“that’s okay,” you pinch his ears and rub his jaw. “you feelin’ better?” mark looks up at you. “a little bit. but,” you raise an eyebrow. “but?” you question.

instead of answering, mark pins you against the wall and lifts your leg. he pins your thigh to his hips and slips his fingers into you.

“oh, fuck.” you gasp, dropping your head and letting your knees buckle. mark catches you and rests his forehead against yours, droplets fall from his nose and strands of hair.

“try and stay up for me, gorgeous.” mark mutters with a smirk.

it was torture, mark fingering you while telling you to not cum yet. his thumb rubbing your clit while he fingers push past your gummy walls. his fingers curling and brushing your g-spot.

“hold on, baby.” mark grunts as he grabs his dick and holds it against your entrance. “mark, please hurry!” you whine desperately.

“you’re so eager,” mark chuckles. “it’s pathetic.” he scoffs and pushes himself into you.

you dig your nails into his shoulders as mark brings you to your tip-toes. mark squeezes your thigh and moans as you tighten around him.

mark fucks you quickly.

his hips smacking against yours roughly, his vocals kicking in and mixing with yours. the sounds of skin smacking against skin echos in the small shower.

“oh, mark.” you moan, pulling him closer so that his chest is pressed against yours. “i’m gonna cum, mark.” you gasp as mark rolls his hips and pushes himself deeper inside you.

you hug mark tightly as you cream all over mark. “s—shit, y/n!” mark shudders and thrusts one last time before shooting his load into you.

uncontrollably, marks hips stutter into yours.

mark drops your leg and backs his hips up, just a bit so his cock falls out of you.

mark drops to his knees and lifts your other leg, giving the first leg a rest. “mark, what are you—?” mark gives you one look and buries his face between your thighs.

“oohh, wow.” you gasp and grab a fistful of his hair. marks tongue enters you before leaving and licking a long stripe on your clit.

“shit.” you hold your breath.

you run your fingers through his wet tangled hair while his tongue circles your clit. “fuck,” you groan and watch as mark eats you out like a hungry man. “oh, my god.”

mark turns his head and laps your juice from a different position.

“i’m gonna cum, m—markie!” you jerk forward as mark sucks your clit. his mouth fully attached to your clit, his only focus.

marks tongue suckles and brings your orgasm closer… and closer… and—

you shudder and let out a cry when your orgasm hits you. it stings you like a bee and doesn’t go away until mark is pulling away, heavily breathing.

his chest falls as fast as it rises.

“you taste,” mark wipes the back of his mouth with his backhand. “so fucking sweet.” he chuckles with a taunting smirk.

mark stands up with his hands on your hips.

“i do, huh?” your legs buzz and slowly turn numb. “you taste very sweet, baby.” mark pulls you by the waist and hugs you to his chest.

“i wonder how sweet you’re gonna taste.” mark inhales to say something but doesn’t say a word, instead he watches as you lower yourself onto your knees.

you bite your lip and grab him by the base, “mwah.” you press a soft kiss on his tip. “fuck, baby. this is gonna be a long night, huh?”

you swirl your tongue around his tip and hum. “uh-huh.” you giggle before swallowing him whole.

AN| this was so shit but it’ll have to do for now! i love you all, i’m sorry for being inactive. i’m so busy! <3

#ash talks #nctsplug02 #anon #nct scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop smut #nct smut #nct 127 #nct imagines #kpop fluff #superm mark #mark fluff #mark lee smut #nct mark #mark smut #mark lee

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thecreelhouse · 2 months

Text

⌞ it felt like love & drugs ⌝

Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 7.2k

Summary: After Steve helps you relax when your vibrator died, you want to return the favor, but it escalates, fast. // This is part 2 of it’s crazy what you’ll do for a friend ! part 3 - crystal clear 🥰

CW/Tags: language, roommates/FWB, Steve and reader getting stoned together, panic attacks, taunting/teasing banter, smut (duh), switch!steve/switch!reader, oral sex (m & f receiving), PiV rough/unprotected sex, light voyeurism/exhibitionism, ruined orgasm/denial, overstim, fluff

A/N: this was supposed to be sub!steve, I swear, but whoops. my hand slipped. hope y’all enjoy ♡ title is from love & drugs - the maine

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘‎♡⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘‎

When Steve offered to help you … “relax”, after your vibrator died at the end of a horrid day, you thought you were dreaming. That was two weeks ago, and you’ve been a wreck ever since.

Yes, you were counting the days.

It was all you could think about, and you were silently hoping another opportunity would appear to return the favor to him, but no time felt right enough to bring it back up.

Despite Steve saying it wouldn’t make things weird, it did make things weird, for you. It was relatively easy to shrug it off on the outside, but you were losing it internally. On the other hand, he seemed fine, like nothing ever happened. Like he never went down on his best friend in the middle of the kitchen.

The sweet pet names he used casually weren’t helping much, either.

“Hey, babe, how was your day?”

“What movie do you wanna watch next, sweetheart?”

“I grabbed the big pack of batteries, just to be safe. They’re all yours, honey.”

That last one had to be intentional.

It was beginning to drive you insane, and the tension was building enough to slowly bubble over. You’d only be able to keep this to yourself for so much longer before blurting to Steve some filthy comment about going down on him.

Self doubt settled in; maybe he didn’t want what you offered last time. Maybe Steve was just being polite. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to you like that. He was just being a good friend, helping you in the heat of the moment.

Let it go. Just forget it. Don’t bother him with the idea.

So, you do. At least, as best as you can. Steve’s still on your mind when you play with yourself, quietly in your room. It’s obviously not as good as what he did with you, but you can’t just ask for him to eat you out again, just because. Choking on him is the first thought while you push your fingers into your own mouth.

Even when you’re not getting yourself off, you’ve had some moments of weakness where the thought crosses your mind while you have a lollipop in your mouth, or a popsicle. Licking ice cream off the spoon. None of it compares to what the real thing would be, but the concept of pleasuring your friend, your roommate, with your mouth, is becoming an unhealthy obsession.

On a rare night the two of you have off the next day, it’s spent getting stoned out of your mind with Steve.

It’s happened before, enough to be familiar with one another as you zone out, laugh at stupid shit, and raid the kitchen together. Tonight, though, you notice Steve’s not his usual relaxed, goofy self when high. He’s jittery. He’s quiet. He’s anxious, and you’re watching his weed-fueled spiraling unfold in real time.

You’ve only seen this happen once before, but it happened in a group of your friends; Robin was able to distract him, roping Steve into a nonsensical discussion of which female character from all of the movies released that year was the hottest. That worked, of course.

Except now, you’re alone with him, and scrambling to find the right words to keep him calm.

While you lay on the couch, he leans back onto it from the floor. You tried to get him to sit on the couch, but he insisted the floor was comfier.

Then, the spiraling starts, but it’s subtle. He kicks it off with the strange question of, “If both of us are single by our thirties, you wanna get married?” He seems okay, at first. Odd thing to ask, but he’s asked much weirder questions while high.

You choke on the hit you’re taking, coughing roughly as the smoke hangs in your lungs far too long. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah… like, you’re not afraid you’ll die alone?” He reaches for the pipe and lighter in your hands, but you pull it back.

Brows knitting together in confusion and a bit of concern, you ask, “Steve, where the hell is this coming from?”

“What if I’m dying?” He sputters, shoulders slumping before he continues. “What if we’re both dying? And what if we both die alone? That’s so… sad.”

You purse your lips before responding, “I mean… don’t we all come into this world alone? And then we leave alone? Everyone does, right?”

Steve groans, hands reaching up to snake his fingers through his hair, except he tugs on his locks halfway through as his eyes squeeze shut. “Don’t say that.”

“M’sorry, you wanna talk about something else?” He shakes his head as his hands fall back to his sides, head falling back against the couch cushion.

“Wanna not be high anymore,” He murmurs, looking over at you with a desperate, needy stare. “Make it stop.”

“Stevie, you’re okay, I promise. We both are.” This would almost be comical if he wasn’t slipping closer and closer to tears. You slide off the couch onto the floor next to him, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder. “Maybe you should drink some water. When’s the last time you had any?”

Steve sticks his tongue out to pinch it, and feel if it’s dry or not. It takes everything in you not to start giggling. He lets go for a moment to answer, trying to joke, “Eight years, at least.” He turns to you with a frown, eyes red and hooded. “Do we have some?”

That, unfortunately, lets a laugh slip from your lips. “Steve, we live here, and last I checked, we paid the water bill. We have running water.”

“Stop laughing,” He pouts, pulling his knees to his chest before resting his head on them, face still turned towards you.

“M’sorry, honey,” The pet name slips easily, more than your laughter moments ago, catching Steve off guard as he blushes. “I’ll get you some, okay? Hang tight.” You set the pipe on the coffee table, out of his reach, but he doesn’t seem interested in the slightest anyway.

As you push yourself to stand, Steve reaches out and grabs your ankle, still pouting. It’d be cuter if he wasn’t panicking, but he’s got something weighing heavy on his mind, and you can tell through how sad his eyes look. “Are you leaving?”

“Gimme like… one minute, okay? I’ll be back, I promise.”

Steve sits up, readying himself to stand, but he moves an inch before falling back against the couch. He looks up in your direction, “I wanna come with you.”

“Stevie, just stay put, I don’t need you breaking your neck or something.”

“Breaking my ‎what?” Panic floods his face and you realize you said the wrong thing. You crouch back down to him, gently taking his face in your hands, trying your best to ignore how warm he feels.

“One minute. You’re fine. You’re safe. Give me one minute.” You run into the kitchen before he can grab for you again, sobering up a bit with a mission in mind.

When you fill two glasses of water, one for each of you, but you’re sure he’ll need both, you stop at the freezer before calling out. “Hey, I’m grabbing a popsicle, want one?”

Steve’s head pokes up from the other side of the couch, only past his eyes, though. You giggle at the sight. “Uh-huh,” is all he can manage to respond with.

You return with each hand holding a popsicle and glass of water, sitting back in the spot you previously had. Steve wastes no time downing not only his glass, but yours, too, as expected.

“That was yours, wasn’t it?” Steve bashfully asks, only feeling guilty for a moment before unwrapping his popsicle. “We should get, like…. Twenty more of these.”

You’re glad to see he’s already distracted, thoughts wandering away from anxiety about death, and into something mundane. Hopefully it continues.

“Twenty more popsicles?”

“No, no, boxes of popsicles. So like…. A lot.”

Laughing, you ask, “Where do we have the freezer space for twenty boxes?!”

Steve glances over to the fridge, then to you, eyes narrowing, “I’ll make it work.” You’re sucking on the tip of your popsicle when Steve looks back at you, still glancing at the freezer while your lips make a subtle smooch noise as you pull off to laugh.

Steve’s frozen in place, gaze glued to your mouth as your tongue slips out to lick along the side of the popsicle, then puckering around the tip again, before taking more of it into your mouth.

You’re not even trying to rile him up, but Steve’s definitely distracted from his panic attack now, watching you satisfy your oral fixation with the red ice. As you turn back to him, melted cherry juice drips from your lips, onto your hand holding the popsicle, and some on your chest. Your eyes land on the bright red droplets first, missing his reaction to all of this.

“Shit, I hate getting sticky.” Truly, you’re innocent right now. Not a dirty thought in your mind that’s pushing you to act this way, or to say what you just said. “I should get a napk— ” Your words dissolve on your lips as Steve’s motions play out; he grabs your wrist, his tongue lapping along your fingers, slowly trailing to the source in your grip.

Even for Steve, this is bold, high or not.

“O- or that works too, I guess,” You breathe, eyes locked with his as he pulls back, grip still on your wrist. Trying to break the tension, you joke, “You’re somethin’ else when you’re high, y’know that?”

“You’re the one always trying to keep your mouth busy.” Your eyes widen, dropping the popsicle remnants onto the wrapper on the table. He smirks, “What, you think I didn’t notice?”

Pausing before you retort, you notice the pipe was moved from where you set it on the coffee table. “Where’s the— Jesus, Steve, please tell me you didn’t smoke again.”

Steve giggles with a shrug. “I dunno nothin’.” As he puts his hands up, you see it in his palm.

“Oh my g— Steve, you were just panicking! You’re done, okay?” Grabbing the pipe from his hands, you glare at him. “I’m finishing this bowl off and then we’re both done. Got it?”

While you inhale, he moves over to you, grabbing you by the chin as his lips hover over yours. The close proximity makes you nervous, dizzy, almost exhaling too early as he gravelly demands, “Shotgun.” You shake your head as best as possible with his grip still on your face, lungs burning while you still hold your breath.

So he waits, like the conniving asshole he is, watching your eyes water with a wicked smirk. “C’mon, give it t’me.” His other hand slides up your thigh, fingers inching closer to where you want him most. It doesn’t take much, just a feathered touch of one finger, slowly dragging up your clothed core, and you’re a goner.

You exhale with a whine, trying your hardest not to cough in Steve’s face as his lips part to take the smoke in. When he releases you, you’re turning your face away to cough wildly, eyes watering even more. Catching your breath, you glare at him with glossy, red eyes, while wiping away the excess spit on your lips with the back of your hand.

“What the fuck is your problem, Harrington?” You rasp, chest still burning, from the smoke or annoyance, you’re not sure.

Exhaling secondhand smoke, he smirks again, “You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Steve is infuriating like this, getting under your skin, slamming all the right buttons, and beneath it all, you love it.

Yet, you warn him, “Steve, you’re pushing it.” He’s not. He knows that, and you know that, but you’re both too high for this right now. Whatever… this is. “And you’re gonna be really high any minute now, a- and…”

He’s got his hand back on your thigh, leaning in towards you, close enough to kiss you. “We shouldn’t… we’re both… we…” Your warnings fade out as your arms wrap around his neck, contrasting with your words. “Steve, this isn’t a good idea.”

Steve grabs you quickly, helping you straddle his lap. It takes a couple seconds for your mind to catch up with the rest of your body. His hands grip your waist as he flexes his hips up into you, ever so slightly. You gasp as you feel him, already hard beneath you.

He rolls himself up into your core, brushing against your clit ever so softly. “No? Why not?” You bite back a moan, shoving your hands onto his thighs to try holding him down.

“I- I mean, it is, but we shouldn’t do this now, right?” You’re trying to be the voice of reason, but you’re losing, fast. How are you supposed to resist this when you’ve been thinking about even just touching Steve for weeks. “You- were you this hard the whole time?”

He loses his filter easily when he’s stoned, so he blurts, “Uh-huh, pretty much every time I looked at you the last two weeks.” Pushing his hips up, your efforts of holding him down were useless while he grinds against you again. This time, his head falls back onto the couch, eyelids weighed down with desire as he watches you give in, grinding down onto him.

“Oh m- my god, so that’s why you kept hiding in your room, huh?” You smirk at the thought of flustering him so much, he has to resort to jerking off at the most inconvenient times. “What were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Steve’s tugging at your shirt, sinking deeper into his high, “Off. Now.”

“No, I asked you a question, honey.” You purr, kissing along his jawline. His breath hitches at the touch. “What do you think about when you’re worked up over me?”

Steve whines, hands exploring under your shirt, and you’re too far gone to order him to keep his hands to himself. “You.” Is all he can bring himself to say as he feels you nip along his neck, soothing the love bites with wet, open mouthed kisses. “Baby, please…”

“That answers nothing, Stevie. Lemme rephrase my question,” You pull back, hands on his face, stomach flipping over the way he stares back at you, desperate and needy with shallow breaths already. “What do you imagine us doing when you fuck your fist? What do you want me to do?”

He tries to throw his head back while squirming underneath you, but you keep him in place, and he whines, louder this time. “Dunno where to start,” He breathes, pouting at you in a cute yet pathetic way.

“I might know… What’s off limits?” You ask just as he asked you two weeks ago. He swallows sharply, shaking his head.

“N- nothing.”

“You’ll tell me if something changes though, right? Or if you don’t like something?”

Steve’s nodding enthusiastically, “Yeah, uh-huh. Nothing’s off limits with you.”

You do your best to ignore the way heat blooms throughout your body from that.

“Can you get up? Y’need help?” You slide off of him, watching as he tries his hardest to hide another pout at the loss of your body on his. You nod towards the couch behind him, “Want you up here, s’that okay?”

Without a verbal answer, Steve scrambles clumsily onto the couch, eyes growing wide as you stay on the floor and push his legs apart. You’re not sure where this confidence is coming from to take the lead, but you kind of like watching Steve become submissive.

“M’dizzy,” He murmurs, hands at his sides, gripping the couch’s fluff while looking pained.

“You okay? We can stop, honey, it’s okay. What do you need?”

Like you anticipated, he whimpers, “Too high,” with a frown. You sigh, head falling forward and resting on his thigh, not really thinking much about the placement; he tenses up when he realizes how close you are to where he needs you the most.

“Stevie, I told you this was gonna happen,” You say this softly, not wanting to freak him out more.

“I know, I- I got nervous,” He admits, panting from panic building. “You’re killin’ me the last two weeks, wanna touch you and hear those cute noises you make again…” Running his hands through his hair, he twists his eyes shut as he continues to ramble, “and I just- I thought maybe getting really high would help not think ‘bout it. I fucked up, baby.”

Despite this being the consequence of his own actions, you feel for Steve, knowing firsthand how awful it can be if you get too high, how fast your thoughts can snowball, or feel like they’re completely melting out of your ears. Your hands splay out as you rub your palms softly, slowly, up and down his thighs.

“I can give you a distraction, you want that?” Steve frantically nods. “You trust me?” Again, he wordlessly replies with a nod. “Tell me if you wanna stop, or need something else, ‘kay?”

Steve watches you as he holds his breath; you reach for the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down slowly. You’re shocked when you’re immediately met with his throbbing length instead of a pair of boxers, freezing before you can pull his pants down fully.

“What’s wrong?” You don’t realize you’re staring until Steve asks this, worried. “Is it— is this okay?”

You feel your mouth water over the sight of him, naked from the waist below and up close. Tongue darting out to lick your lips, you force yourself to move and pull his pants off completely.

“More than okay,” You breathe, watching his cock kick as precum pearls at the tip. “You…” You’re struggling with your thoughts, trying to find the balance between being carefree and fun, and accidentally blurting out your feelings now that you’re really fucking high.

Kissing up his thighs, alternating sides every so often, you take your time, reveling in his needy whimpers. The sweet, soft kisses continue up his body, taking your dear, sweet time in hopes it’s beginning to distract him.

Steve can’t focus on being too high if he’s more worried about you moving too slowly, right?

“Angel, need you now,” His pleas of lust are music to your ears as you reach his shoulder, sucking softly along the sensitive crook of his neck. Your hand winds around to the nape of his neck, fingers weaving through his hair as you hold the back of his head, keeping him upright. “Needa’ kiss you.”

When you pull away, a glistening thread of spit follows you, attached to your lips for a moment. Steve bucks upward at the sight, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

“This is what good friends do for each other, right?” You whisper, breath hot against his own lips as you move closer. Maybe if you say it out loud enough, you’ll believe it. “Just fuckin’ around… helping each other out.”

Steve frowns, but doesn’t protest, just whimpers as your grip tugs on his hair.

“Can you be good for me?” He breathes out quick ‘uh-huh”s, about to reach for your hips, but you pin his arms to his sides. “I’ll take care of you, but you gotta do one thing for me.”

You begin to sink back to the floor, with a detour of your lips hovering just above his tip, gaze locked with his as you spit slowly onto him. Not even spit, more like drool. Steve gasps sharply, chest heaving, “Anything, name it, I’ll do it.”

“Hands to yourself. Everything stops if you touch me.”

Steve looks offended, “You’re kidding me.”

You giggle, “Dead serious.”

“But I- I wanna— ” You know what he’s about to say, it’s the reason you’re making this rule to begin with.

“Fuck my face?” As you cut him off, his face drops. “Not ‘til I say so.”

“What the fuck, how’d you know?” Steve’s voice drops to a whisper. You smirk, shrugging as you feign innocence.

“Might’ve heard you a few nights ago, walking by your door.” While you wish you heard him moan your name, the sounds you stumbled upon were still too sweet to let go. “You’re also an idiot for watching porn out here, thinking I wouldn’t see,” Your teasing makes his face flush red with embarrassment.

Mortified, Steve stammers, “I- I thought you were sleeping!”

To be fair, you were about to go to bed, but curiosity got the best of you that night.

You slipped down the hall, peeking around the corner and past the kitchen, where the living room’s only source of light was the TV’s glow of filth.

Steve was on the floor, sweats shoved down to his ankles, leaning back with his legs spread; he was fixated on the scene of some dude snapping his hips into a woman’s face, fucking down her throat. He thrust his hips up in time with the jerking motions he made, fist shining in the TV’s light from precum spilling over.

You were burning up as you watched, knowing it was wrong, you should give him space, stop being nosy… but it was also wrong for him to fuck his fist out in the shared space.

With a mind of their own, your hands rushed to where you needed them most, one between your thighs, the other under your shirt, grabbing at your chest; you tried your hardest to imitate Steve’s pace and pressure he had the day he offered to help you, but your own touch never came close to his.

You bit your lip to hold back your own noises as he groaned lowly, murmuring things like “That’s it… my good girl can take it all, huh?” The moans from tacky porn he watched were drowned out by his own. Silently, you joined him in the filthy fantasy, hand slapped over your mouth as your fingers toyed with your clit, cunt soaking through your underwear already.

Steve had no clue the two of you came together.

“I tried, ‘til I heard you moaning,” You admit without shame. “I’m not mad, Stevie. You could’ve invited me, though.”

“You… you watched me?”

Fuck. Should’ve kept that to yourself.

Should’ve really not done it at all.

Slightly grimacing, your hands slide off of him, “I— yeah. I know I should’ve gone back to bed, but… but you sounded so hot, I- I couldn’t sleep without knowing what you were doing.”

He grabs your hands and pulls them back to his body with a dopey grin, holding a hint of smugness as he breaks your rule already.

Through his hazy high, he manages to admit clearly, “Only did it ‘cause I wanted you to watch me.” Your jaw drops, unsure if you’re mad he played you at your own game, or if you’re impressed.

Nodding silently with a petty smile, you ask, “Hey, Steve? How’s your high going? Guess you’re done panicking, so you don’t need this—” in one fluid motion, you lean in, sliding your tongue up his shaft, lips wrapping around the tip, and take him in without hesitation.

The noises that leave Steve as his hips jerk are sinful and raw; his hands twitch as he keeps his hands near his sides, dying to grab you and fuck your face. He stays… well, not still, but he’s not touching you, like you asked.

As quick as it started, it ends all the same; you barely have him at the back of your throat before pulling back, drool following your lips as his dick is left throbbing and sticky. He’s panting, arm thrown over his eyes with his head thrown back onto the cushion.

“Right? You’re good enough to finish on your own?” You stand, spitting over Steve’s cock one more time before walking away, “If you still need some help, you can borrow my vibrator.” Your taunting is helping him race to the edge, almost over it, almost losing control and cumming without your mouth still on him. He wants to start stroking himself, almost does, but grabs you as you round the back of the couch before walking out.

You whip around, glaring at Steve, then his hand gripping a fist full of fabric from the back of your shirt, keeping you here. At the same time, he kicks his pants off completely.

“Oh, that vibrator? The one I got batteries for?” His high must be wearing off, just enough where he’s able to stand up and swing his leg over the couch. He’s behind you, half naked, with one hand snaking around your hips to pull you against him; you can feel how hard he is as he holds you tightly, slowly rutting into your backside. “The one that died on you? The one that doesn’t make you moan as loud as I did?”

You’ve got your thighs pressed together over his words, while his other arm slides around to your chest, over your neck, holding you in the position of a chokehold without actually doing it. Watching his arm flex as it winds around you, your stomach flutters while your pussy throbs.

“C’mon, honey, you can tell me.” The hand on your hip slides past the waistband of your sleep shorts, sliding over your cunt before dipping his middle finger between your folds. Steve groans as he feels how wet you are, enjoying how easily he can tease your clit in small, slow circles. Your head throws back onto his shoulder, and he kisses your temple, lingering to hear your breathy moans in his ear.

“Barely touched you, and you’re already going dumb on me,” He can feel the way your clit throbs as he taunts you. “What happened to you being in control? You had it for a second there, babe.”

There’s only two thoughts taking space in your mind right now:

You hate Steve right now.

You need Steve, right fucking now.

Shoving his hands away— he never had a tight, promising grip to begin with— you spin around to take his face in your hands, kissing him roughly. Steve stumbles back towards the wall, lips still attached to yours as he sighs through his nose; a muffled grunt vibrates into your mouth as his back hits the wall. You’re not even trying to take back control, you just couldn’t stand another second without kissing him.

As he pulls back, Steve catches your bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging a bit before letting go, breathless. His hand grips your chin roughly, “You wanna finish what you started?”

Steve releases your face, and you nod with a pout and lust-blown pupils; you start sinking back to the floor, but he holds you up by your hips, tugging at your shirt again. “Off.”

“Only fair if you do the same, Stevie,” Your shirt rolls over your body and crumples on the floor. You’re about to remove your shorts, but Steve’s faster, leaning down to your chest, biting along the swell of your breast. “F- fuck,” You’re gasping as he continues and flips you around, with your back against the wall now.

Immediately he’s sucking and swirling his tongue around your nipple; low, muffled groans add to the dizzying work his mouth does. His large hand reaches for the other nipple, pinching a bit before his palm is blanketing over your breast, groping roughly. You’re whining and bucking your hips towards nothing, so he takes pity on you, shoving a leg between your thighs.

“St- Stevie, I was— oh, god,” You can’t focus with his hands and mouth on you, all while pressing his thigh against your core. You really are going dumb for him, and you wish you could have this all the time. “I was t-trying to take care of you, asshole.”

“Didn’t say you can’t, just wanna play with you for a bit.” He’s kissing back up your chest, up your neck, skipping your jaw and cheek to jump right back into a rough, messy kiss. It’s a lot of tongue and spit and teeth and nothing close to the softness of the first time you two kissed, but you need this right now. You need him like this right now.

Pulling back, you snap “I’m ‘bout to lose my mind if you don’t fuck my face or cunt in the next ten seconds.” Steve freezes, pulling his leg away, hands finding their new spots pressed against the wall, arms caging you in.

“Don’t tease me like that,” Steve warns, licking his lips as he looks down at you. “Because you have no idea how badly I want— need that,” He exhales roughly, forehead falling onto yours, ignoring how his cock twitches, desperate for attention. “And if anything makes our friendship weird, s’gonna be that.”

With wide, sweet eyes, you gaze back at him, pushing him back a bit, “So make it weird.” His eyes fall shut while he sighs loudly. “Steve, this has been weird since the damn vibrator died, it’s going to be weird forever, just accept it and fuck one of my holes already. I need— ”

Steve’s ripping your shorts down and off of your legs, pushing your legs apart when he pauses to look up at you from the floor. Hands grip your hips so roughly, you know he’ll leave handprints behind.

It happens so fast— his mouth is on you, hot and unforgiving, pace nowhere near the soft and sweet demeanor he had the first time he went down on you. Your hands fall to his head, fingers weaving through his locks to pull, hard. The shameless groan he lets out into your cunt makes your knees buckle, vibrations only adding to the intensity he sucks and laps at your clit with.

“Oh, fu- fuck,” You’re going to climax before he’s even inside you if he keeps it up, wishing you weren’t so easy to please. His pretty doe eyes, still red from his high, never leave yours while he continues burying his face between your thighs. “S- St— ohmygod— M’gonna cum t’soon, y’gotta stop.”

“That fast?” His fingers seamlessly switch with his tongue for a moment, murmuring, “Y’can just cum again.”

“But I— ” Your body jolts as his tongue flicks at your clit while two fingers slide into you with ease. “I w- this was supposed to be ‘bout you…” Your words become lost as you notice the steady, repetitive motion of his arm, stroking himself as he eats you out.

Steve doesn’t reply, he’s just working relentlessly to push you over the edge. You’re too far gone to make him stop, whining while grinding onto his face, so close, so very close—

He pulls back, hands still holding you up, watching as your body reacts to a ruined orgasm; twitching, legs shaking, walls fluttering, moaning, all while feeling so empty. The spark of your high had been snuffed out, leaving you with an ache still between your thighs despite being a breathless mess.

You’re walking a thin line between retaliation and desperation, eyes stuck on Steve as he stands, smirking as he leans in close.

“Guess we’re even now, huh?” He taunts you with that gravelly voice that sends blood rushing straight to your core. You’re speechless over his ill-intent, how close he brought you to an earth-shattering high, just to leave you in the dust.

You want to switch, take over, make him beg, but you’re so hung up on the lost bliss, you can only bring yourself to nod as you pout, ready to cry.

Steve notices the tears building before you even do. He’s holding your face softly, concerned, “Too much?”

Shaking your head, your bottom lip trembles; you’re overwhelmed from the way he just ruined you, and all you can respond with is, “Need you.”

“Honey, you need a break, it’s okay,” You’re shaking your head again, but his hands tighten just enough to hold you in place. “M’sorry, I— ”

You surge forward, kissing him roughly as your hands slide up his arms, holding him as he holds you. Your arousal is still sticky on his lips, tongue slipping between them to tease against his. Moving his hands slowly, you guide him down to your hips, moaning into his mouth. Your hands move to his face, forcing him to look at you as you pull back. A string of slick follows your lips while slipping slowly from his own.

Eyes locked with his, you’re certain in your demand, “I. Need. You.”

Steve’s frozen as he takes in your words, still registering the messy kiss, your emotions, everything that just happened. Thankfully, it’s only for a moment.

Breaking out of his daze, he’s helping you stay steady as he hitches your leg up and around his hip; Steve’s arm slides under your leg to keep you in place, quick to use his free hand to grab his cock, sliding the tip along your folds. You gasp and shudder as he teases your over-sensitive clit.

“Need what?” He gets it now, you like this, the humiliation, the overstimulation… What he thought was payback for the way you left him high and dry, only made you more of a submissive, pliable mess. “Need me to stuff that pretty little cunt with my cock?”

Your eyes roll back between the dirty talk and the feeling of his length sliding between your folds, cruelly brushing against your clit. It’s not enough.

“Ye- yeah, Stevie, need that.” You’re whimpering as he teases your entrance, barely pushing through. You whisper shakily as he pulls back, “F-fuck.”

“Okay,” Steve simply replies. Then he stops right at your entrance, eyes flickering to yours with a wicked glint, “Beg. Go ‘head, like you do when you’re touching yourself.”

The desire to be dominated by him takes a backseat. Instead, you break from the haze you began slipping into,close to sub-space, glaring as you spit, “I hate you.” You don’t, but you sure hate the way

“Hm… doesn’t sound much like begging at all.” He starts to pull back, but you tighten your leg around him, pushing him against you.

The switch is rapid. “You wanna go back to fucking your fist?” You spit— literally, you spit down between the two of you, coating his length with extra slick and making him shiver. “Because you can go do that if you’re gonna play games.”

Neither of you ever know when to quit.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought this-” He thrusts into you, hard and fast, throwing your head back against the wall as you cry out. The stretch is instant, and he stays still, deep inside as you adjust, thankfully. It still doesn’t make the sting subside… but you kind of love it. It hurts, but it’s a good kind of hurt, nothing you’ve felt before with anyone you’ve ever fucked. “— Was what you wanted. I don’t think your useless toy can make you feel like this.”

For how weak Steve feels at the knees over how you flutter around him, he’s doing a good job of hiding it. You, on the other hand, your leg still on the floor is shaking as you try to stay up. Steve notices, cradling your face by its side in one of his strong hands while his eyes search yours for any signs of distress.

Instead, you just look completely fucked out from just one thrust already.

The hand still on your face slides behind your head, keeping you from slamming your head back. Arm still under your leg, he firms his grip. “I got you, won’t let y’fall, don’t worry,” His tone is soft and caring, a noticeable change from moments ago.

“Such a gentleman, even w- when you’re balls deep in your roommate, huh?” Your joke comes out shaky, still adjusting a bit, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What you care about right now is for him to actually fuck you. “Steve, need you t’move, please.”

Steve smirks, slowly rolling his hips back before slamming into you again. “There she is, that’s m’girl,” He rasps, repeating his motions, slowly reeling back to impale you on his cock again. Your heart flutters when he calls you that.

His girl. It means nothing to him, but for now, you can keep it to yourself and play pretend.

All you can do is whimper and moan, shaky and incoherent. Steve’s voice is sweet, soft, with a taunting edge, “It’s okay, only asked you to beg once. Y’want me to take care of you, honey?”

“Uh-huh,” You pant, fingers digging into his back, scratching, marking him up. “Don’t trust you, though.”

The power dynamic drops from Steve while buried deep in you, admiring how angelic you look like this, lost in the consequence of your desires.

Angelic probably isn’t the word that fits your attitude in this moment, but the way you tilt your head back further into his palm, trusting him, how your hips roll into his while your eyes flutter shut, softly whining while resisting your eyes wanting to close, wanting more than anything to admire him in return— yeah, you’re as close to an angel as he’ll get.

“Promise you’ll get to finish, I mean it,” He breathes. “No more teasing, I mean it. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as his thrusts pick up ever so slightly, trying to nod to acknowledge his promise, but you’re already fucked-out, dumb and cock-drunk.

Steve twitches inside of you, “Bet no one’s ever made you feel this good n’ full before, huh?”

“N- no,” You rasp as your arms wind around his neck, “Can’t have anyone else after this.”

That shoves Steve closer to his own high, making him groan, “No? Why’s that, honey?” Every time he calls you that, you tighten around him, earning a hiss through his gritted teeth.

“Don’t think anyone— h’my god— can fuck me like you can,” You can’t hold back your thoughts or feelings. “Don’t w- want anyone else.”

Steve’s trying his best not to let his mind wander, not to let his thoughts and feelings consume him. You’re not saying what he thinks you are, what he wants you to confess. He continues railing you, grasp leaving your head to touch you, bring you to that blissed out high you deserved from the start.

Fingers on your clit, your head falls back, bumping against the wall, and he can’t help the snort that comes out while you giggle and groan over the ache.

“Jesus christ, don’t fuckin’ do that,” He warns after feeling you tighten around him while laughing. He shoots a winded, lazy smile. “Next time we’re fucking in bed, promise.”

“N- next time?” You’re asking, and Steve just murmurs a quick “Uh-huh” as he snaps his hips roughly up into yours, rewarding him with the most sinful moan he’s heard from you yet. He’s fucking you fast and hard, only focused on getting you off, for real this time.

“Steve, you— you’re— ” You’re fighting yourself, kicking your feelings aside; you can’t ruin a good thing, even if neither of you never figured out what this ‘thing’ is.

“I got you, c’mon, lemme feel you soak my cock,” He’s mumbling, eyes darting from your expression to where the two of your bodies meet, mesmerized as your hips stutter while he feels you reach what you wanted all along. “That’s it, just like that.”

His praise sends you over the edge, choking back a scream and failing miserably, “M’close, so cl— oh, fuck!” You begin to tremble and pulse around him, eyes twisting shut as you almost throw your head back, but Steve grabs you in time— that’s a habit you really need to break— tugging you towards him and kissing you roughly.

Moans are muffled to whimpers as he melds his lips with yours, feeling his own high just in reach. You pull back as he continues stuttering his hips, thrusts growing sloppy as his cock pulses deep inside you.

You’re still riding out your climax, yet somehow manage to ask him, “You close, baby?” Steve nods as a breathy, sweet sound shudders out of him. Barely finishing on him, you push him back, just enough to pull off and sink to the floor.

“Wh— ” Steve watches through hooded eyes the way you slide your mouth back onto him, tasting yourself as he pulsates again against your tongue; he takes back over, thrusting fully into your mouth while holding your head in place. “H- oh— honey, m’gonna—“

Steve’s moans are the sweetest sounds you’ve ever heard, breathy and vocal as he shudders out a string of expletives while he comes undone buried in your throat. Greedily, you swallow what you can, but it becomes too much; you pull back and hold his shaft, letting him finish on your face.

For a moment, Steve is stunned. He wasn’t expecting you to let him finish like this; you might look angelic to him, but that’s no match to your sinful demeanor and unholy desires.

“Fuck… that’s my girl.” His praise tugs at your heartstrings when you know it’s not that deep.

You can’t help giggling as he comes down, aware of the mess on your features, licking your lips while gazing up at him. You’re going to kill him, no ‘ifs, ands, or buts’ about it.

Though you never asked, he’s certain he won’t find anyone who compares to you.

Dropping to the floor, Steve leans in to kiss you, catching you off guard he tastes himself on your lips, moaning lazily into you. Pulling you into his lap, his hands wind around your waist, knowing how gross the two of you are right now, but he needs you. Ignoring how he’s still half hard, he just needs to be close to you, to be vulnerable with you.

He never said it, but he’s absolutely positive he won’t find another friend who trusts him this much, another roommate who puts up with his nonsense, high or not, another lover who can laugh at the real and awkward moments during sex and still stay intimate.

Your soft, drained voice breaks his thoughts, “Did that help, Stevie? Or d’you need more distractions?” You’re joking, but secretly wishing he’d say yes.

Steve wants to say he needs more distractions, needs to fuck you on every single surface in this apartment, needs you to put him in his place while he promises to be good for you, be so good for you that you’ll throw out that goddamn vibrator and use him whenever you need.

Instead, he only asks, “I thought you said you don’t have much experience?”

Again, you laugh, and all he can think of is the way he could feel you laugh while balls deep inside of you. “I don’t, I just read a lotta corny romance novels.” As you stand, you hold a hand out for him and ask, “Wanna share a shower? Heard it saves on water, or whatever. Y’know, the thing you thought we didn’t have in the apartment.”

Grabbing your hand, Steve just laughs softly with an eye roll. “Yeah, you’re right, you definitely read a lot of corny romance novels with lines like that.”

It’s so comfortable, so natural, to go from such intimate, filthy moments, to joking so casually with you.

So while you lead him into the bathroom, while the two of you kiss lazily under the hot, running water, while he’s riling you up again with your back pressed against the shower wall, Steve’s so sure of one more, tiny detail with his feelings towards you: he’s fucked.

So, so fucked.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #my fics #it felt like love & drugs

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psychedelic-ink · 9 months

Text

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐒

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut (like very explicit), minors dni

word count: 7k

summary: you and joel continue to see one another, no matter the distance. And finally, you two breach the subject of "what are we".

warnings: joel is still bi in this, minor angst in the beginning, live stream sex, piv, messy titjob, dirty talk, possesive!joel, squirting, a hint of jealous joel, good girl/sir, praise kink

a/n: this work was commissioned by the lovely @trauma-dol 💜 thank you so much for commissioning me, I appreciate it lots!

part two of ravish

There are a lot of things you don’t like. The smell of roasted chickpeas, for instance. While others might find it inviting, it's just an odd scent that doesn't sit right with you. Then there's that annoying feeling of needing to pee right after you've gotten all cozy in bed. The list just goes on. You can think of a million things that annoy the heck out of you.

However, waiting for someone that you’ve been eager to see for months to arrive at your doorstep might be the thing you hate the most.

Worry bubbles up within you, and you can't help but sigh as you reach for the phone. Joel was supposed to arrive a good thirty minutes ago.

Excited to see him, you had spent time chopping up an assortment of fresh vegetables – plump tomatoes, vibrant bell peppers sliced into perfect rings, and red onions thinly shaved and ready to caramelize into sweet perfection.

Besides the cutting board, a bowl of freshly shredded mozzarella cheese sits in fluffy mounds, ready to meld and melt into gooey goodness. Fragrant basil leaves are waiting to be scattered over the final creation. The pizza dough had been carefully prepped and now resting.

But alas, there’s still no sign of him.

“Dammit Joel, where are you?”

You knew you should’ve just picked him up from the airport. You should’ve just ignored his protests and gone. New York is a big city; he could’ve gotten himself lost. Or worse, someone might’ve tried to kidnap him, rob him—sure, he’s a big man, but this is New York City.

It had been a hectic month. After you moved back from your family home, the issue of whether or not the relationship should continue had been a hot topic of sorts. For a while, you both decided to embrace the idea of "not putting a label" and simply being together during your visits. However, that proved to be too complicated. Losing yourselves in each other during every visit didn’t really allow for anyone else to come in between.

Not that you were complaining. You really liked Joel and didn’t really have any desire to date anyone else. Joel had enamored you completely. It was hard to keep it casual when all you wanted was him. But clearly, Joel didn’t want anything serious. He was content with how things were.

The thought made your heart sink painfully in your chest.

You tried to visit each other once a month, although most of the time it ended up being once every two months. He still joined your live streams. And when your viewers realized you were more than happy to indulge in JMiller’s requests, they started to get suspicious, commenting and teasing relentlessly. That meant you had to ignore him for a bit, which you hated doing.

You did enjoy the punishments that followed though.

A sudden buzz pulls you away from memory lane. Looking down you see a text from Joel, prompting your smile.

Almost there, honey. You weren’t kidding about the traffic.

“Dork,” you grin. Your head falls back against the back of the couch. You’ve missed him and now that he’ll be here soon makes you all giddy. Dormant butterflies erupt in your chest. Just the thought of him is enough to excite you. For an entire week, Joel Miller is yours. You had planned out everything. Not a minute will be wasted. Not on your watch.

Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. You practically jump off the couch and run toward the sound. When you open it, you’re breathless, the tiny hairs at the back of your neck standing with attention.

It’s him.

He’s here.

His eyes are tired, the crinkles you love to kiss deepening with his wide smile, “Hey there, sweetheart,” he says. “Miss me?”

You jump towards him and wrap your arms around his neck. You hear the “oomf” that vibrates from his chest as you tug him impossibly close, forcing him to lean over you. Joel’s hands find the dip of your waist, squeezing tenderly, his nose bumps affectionally into the crook of your neck, and heat gathers under your skin.

“God I missed you,” you say, voice trembling. Desperately you hold his face and bring him to your lips. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth, the movement dripping with a need for authority and control. You happily give it to him, opening wide. He sucks the air from your lungs and swallows your moans. Slick gathers between your legs, the fabric of your underwear clinging to your cunt and asking for the stretch of his cock.

Joel guides the roll of your hips, chuckling darkly into your mouth when you desperately rub yourself against the denim. A shudder rolls up your spine. His cock firming under his jeans, “Honey,” he rasps. “Maybe we should close the door first?”

“Why?” you say with a hitch of your breath. You drag your lips down his neck, nip at his racing pulse. “I know the neighbor wouldn’t mind. He watches my streams.”

You’d said it without a second thought, which might’ve been a mistake on your part. His muscles grow rigid under your palms, the heat melting quickly like ice under the hot summer sun. “Is everything okay?” you ask, cupping his cheeks and forcing his gaze up.

His gaze stays on you only for a moment before he drops his eyes to your lips. Your brows furrow at the reaction. His eyes are clear like a sky before a storm. Obviously, he has the question he wants to ask already locked and loaded but refusing to pull the trigger. He lifts his hands, the width of them blanketing yours as he pulls them down.

“Just tired,” he sighs. He’s saved by the loud grumble of his stomach, the tension breaking. “And hungry,” he adds with a crooked smile. You force a smile and ignore the trembling of your bottom lip. Joel’s tone might be playful but it does little in calming your nerves. Moving away, the chill you feel on your skin is instant.

“I prepared most of the ingredients,” you say. “I thought pizza and wine?”

“We’re in the birthplace of the dollar pizza and you made it homemade?”

You giggle at how comically wide his eyes are. “Well forgive me for not wanting to feed you the cheapest thing available,” Joel’s lips touch your temple, warmth blossoming where his mouth brushes against. “And I thought it would be fun.”

“It will,” he murmurs. “I’m not used to bein’ pampered I guess. Only Sarah cares about what goes down my gullet.”

“Hmm I don’t recall saying it was due to the consideration of your health,” you tease, fingers tiptoeing from his arm to his shoulder. He shivers at the touch. “Maybe, I just want to see what these strong hands can do with some dough.”

His mere grin manages to send ripples of pleasure down your spine. Something dark and wicked crosses his face and you let out a shaky sigh. “Brat,” he teases.

With a cat-like grin of your own, you close the door.

Joel stands before the kitchen counter, the soft glow of the overhead light accentuating the contours of his figure. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms that glisten with a slight sheen of flour. The muscles beneath his sun-kissed skin ripple as he reaches for the dough, his biceps forming a subtle bulge with each purposeful movement.

With a focused expression, he takes the smooth, slightly elastic dough in his hands. The material yields to his touch, supple yet resilient. As his strong fingers sink into the dough's yielding embrace, you can't help but admire the way he handles it. His touch is both firm and gentle, his hands a testament to years of construction work that have endowed him with strength and dexterity.

The dough stretches and folds, responding to his guidance with grace. His hands move with an almost mesmerizing rhythm, kneading and pressing, coaxing the dough into a state of perfection. The occasional wisp of flour dances in the air as he works.

You watch, entranced, as Joel's fingers work their magic. The concentration etched on his face, the way his lips quirk up in a faint smile as he loses himself while doing so makes your heart race.

As he works, you find your own fingers involuntarily tracing the outline of your wine glass.

"Enjoyin' the view, honey?" Joel's voice rumbles, breaking through the silence. You quickly set the wine glass down and begin to babble something in response, your words stumbling over each other. But before you can complete your sentence, Joel grips your wrist, pulling you toward him. Your back is flush against his solid chest.

His scent of pine and undeniable masculinity, surrounds you, intoxicating your senses as effectively as the wine you had been sipping. The shift in the atmosphere is palpable, charged with an electricity that sends shivers down your spine.

Joel's hands find yours, and he guides them to rest above the dough, his touch sending a jolt of awareness through you. “I’m the guest why the hell am I doin’ all the work?” His fingers intertwine with yours, his calloused skin brushing against your more delicate touch. Your heart beats in sync with the rhythm of his kneading.

Kneading the dough together, you feel a growing pressure against your lower back. It takes a moment for you to realize – his erection, firm and unmistakable, pressing against you. The realization sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, and your breath catches in your throat.

His hand drops to your waist, guiding the grind of your hips. You feel him as the dress you’re wearing dips between your asscheeks, clothed cock parting the two gently. A soft growl rumbles in his chest, the tremble of it felt against your back. Your focus has shifted. The dough forgotten entirely.

“You’re makin’ cookin’ really hard, sweetheart.”

You manage a breathless chuckle, "Oh, and whose fault might that be, Mr. Master Dough Kneader?"

He snarls into your ear, hot breath causing goosebumps. “You really are bein’ a brat today. Is there a special occasion for that?”

Honestly, being a brat really wasn’t your objective. It just. . . sorta came out. You reveled when Joel took control, be it face-to-face or during streams. There’s always something primal lingering under his touches, his words. You roll your hips, cutting his breath short, you feel the length of him being dragged down between the plump flesh of your ass.

“I just want to make you happy,” you say surprisingly soft. When you attempt to rub against him once more, he stops you, both hands now on your waist, squeezing you in warning.

“You do make me happy,” he breathes out. His voice is deep, slivering down your back. Heat pools between your legs and you lean into his warmth. “Why would you say that?”

“Forget it,” You hadn’t expected him to take it so seriously. Worry begins to inflate your chest, heat rising to the tips of your ears and making you short of sight. You attempt to reach for the tomato sauce, making sure to drag the plumpness of your behind against the heft of his cock in order to eradicate the moment. You don’t want him to think too much about it. Or decide that what you have—whatever it is—isn’t worth it.

The pads of your fingers brush against the smooth surface of the bowl but you can’t reach it. Not quite. Joel turns you over, hands between your waist and the sharp edge of the counter. Frustrated, you fill your cheeks with air and shoot him a glare. “Seriously, it’s nothing, Joel.”

“No it ain’t,” he snaps silently. “Why would you stress about makin’ me happy?”

He scoffs at your silence, “What? You think I’m just passin’ the time by comin’ here? That if it’s not worth my time I’ll just leave?” he asks, baffled. Your gaze drops to the granite floor, bottom lip sucked between your teeth. Joel’s eyes go wide, bushy eyebrows almost touching his hairline. “Wait you actually think that?”

You remain silent.

“Sweetheart. . .” he shakes his head and pinches your chin, pulling your gaze back up. He looks concerned. Remorseful. You try not to think about your pulse skyrocketing under your skin, try to ignore the skip of your heart. “You really think I’m that shallow?”

“No,” you answer suddenly, the need to defend him to himself burrowing in your chest. “It’s not that. I just. . . I don’t know. I’m confused I guess.”

“‘bout what?”

His thumb draws slow circles on your cheek, you close your eyes, heart and chest suddenly light as air. You could float if you had the capability. You nuzzle his hand like a hurt animal, begging for more of his touch.

“I really really like you, you know.”

“I really like you too, honey,” you ignore the way his words and smile make your skin prickle with delight. “But that doesn’t really answer my question.”

You sigh, you’re stuck between the constant worry and the comfort he’s providing. Despite being known as a chatterbox, you’re having trouble finding the words.

“I know that me streaming isn’t. . . conventional but I’m not seeing anyone else. I don’t even do private streams anymore,” your eyes flit between his eyes, trying to get a read of whiskey-colored eyes. Fear coats your tongue upon noticing his lips are a thin line—definitely not a good sign. “And well. . . I don’t plan on seeing anyone else either because. . .”

You melt in relief when his lips finally crack into a small smile, “Because you really really like me?”

“Precisely,” you say a bit loud and excited. “And of course, I don’t want you to feel pressure but. . . are you seeing anyone?” you clear your throat. “B—Besides me, that is.”

“Well. . . sometimes I watch CammingBravo when he’s streamin’.”

“Joel!” you huff out a laugh and playfully smack his chest. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

Adoration dots over his face, the corner of his eyes wrinkling with his smile. You love it when he teases you. Love it even more when he just stares at you with blatant amusement. The expression doesn’t linger long though. Like a small flame under rain, it sizzles out, his demeanor changing suddenly.

His brows furrow, a crease you so desperately want to kiss away forming between them. Joel’s jaw ticks, the muscle above it twitching. He inches closer until your foreheads are pressed together, snug. Your heart is beating with rapid thumps, your breath caught in your throat.

“I’m not seein’ anyone else either,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “And I’m not planin’ on seein’ anyone else either.”

“R-Really?”

He nods, “I want you, sweetheart. Completely. I don’t care what you do on your streams as long as you’re mine when the camera shuts off.”

Your smile is instantaneous. It’s not like you planned on streaming for the rest of your life, arrangements could be made to make him more comfortable. And you had stopped collabing with Dieter ever since Joel came into the picture—though, now that you knew Joel watched the fallen-from-grace actor’s streams. . . you were getting ideas.

Joel nudges you with the tip of his nose, smiling, yet still hesitant, “Say somethin’ will you?”

“So, we both want to be exclusive?” you grin. “That’s what you’re saying?”

“Reckon, I am,” he answers with a snort. He parts his lips to say more but you beat him to it, covering his mouth with your own. The kiss is long and sweet. It feels like a first kiss in a way, even though you have kissed Joel many many times before.

“Come on now, let’s get these ready and pop them into the oven,” his grin is wide as he pinches your ass, you jump with a yelp and he laughs. When you fix him a half-hearted glare, he only winks. The simple action makes your insides clench. “I’m starvin’.”

The next day, you take Joel to your favorite coffee shop. They make the best bagel sandwiches and you’re eager for him to try them out. He gets the classic bacon, egg, and cheese, and you order the avocado BLT. You offer to pay, but Joel being Joel, he quickly distracts you by dragging his lips from your temple to your cheek, swiftly taking out his wallet.

You give him a look of pure betrayal. If you were wearing pearls, you’d be clutching them by now. “Joel Miller,” you say, aghast. “How dare you use your charm for evil?”

His laughter fills the air as he hands his credit card to the barista, his broad chest rising and falling with each boisterous sound. Your lips twitch into a smile as he cups your waist, pulling you close. His lips touch your ear and heat warms your cheeks. “Sorry, honey. I can’t always use my powers for good.”

All you can manage is a short nod. Your senses narrow on the way his breath ghosts your skin, warm and soft like a summer breeze. For a second you forget about the bagels and the coffee shop, all you can think of is him; his body, his voice, his scent—arousal pulses between your legs. If you were positive the two of you wouldn’t get arrested for public indecency, you’d let him take you against this very counter for everyone to see.

“Come on now,” he teases, reading your expression easily. “I got the goods, let’s find ourselves a good table.”

Alas, he really was holding a tray in his hands. You have no idea when the barista finished making your order. Either you’d been fantasizing for too long or you had one hell of a barista.

The two of you stand awkwardly in the middle of the coffee shop and look around. You notice a couple of people staring you down, their gazes fixed on you, some of them even being bold enough to do the old-fashioned up-and-down. You quickly divert your gaze and point toward a table right next to the large windows. Frankly, you’re used to the staring. They rarely came up to you since no one wanted to be the one known for enjoying porn. Especially in public. Most of the time they’re harmless.

Walking towards your table, you cheat a glance at Joel. If he did notice the looks, he didn't say anything. He made no indication of discomfort or anything of the sort. Relief sprinkles over you, maybe the looks weren’t as obvious as you initially had thought.

Joel took a seat and you sat across from him, he shot you a look before reaching for his black coffee, “Everythin’ alright?”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat, trying to keep your nerves in check. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Just as he opens his mouth, you notice someone approaching in your peripheral. You hold your breath, eyes dropping to the bagels. The person, whoever it was, just stands at the end of the table. You feel the stranger’s eyes eating you up. Fuck, of all the times why now?

“May we help you?” you hear Joel say, his tone the complete opposite of his words. When you look up at him from between your lashes, he’s staring at the stranger, the look dancing on the line of being a full-on glare. You take a slow breath and turn.

It’s a young-ish man with blonde hair and brown eyes. Your first expression of him is that he seems kind. He doesn’t acknowledge Joel’s presence at all which you find impressive. Even across from him, you can feel the heat of his stare.

“Hi,” the man says kindly. “S-Sorry to bother you but are you Honeysuckle? On Ravish?”

Joel visibly bristles at that. And, despite your better judgment, it turns you on.

“Yup, that’s me,” you let out an awkward chuckle. He extends a hand and you quickly take it, wanting this to be done as soon as possible.

“I love your streams!”

“Thank you,” you smile with tight lips. “I appreciate your support.”

“Can I get a picture?”

Briefly, your gaze flits to Joel, a shadow crosses his face, eyes dark in warning. Your breath hitches a bit, skin prickling, some part of you wishes the hardened gaze was directed at you instead.

You turn back to the man, “Sorry I don’t do pictures,” he seems visibly heartbroken by that so you quickly add. “But I can give you an autograph if it’s all the same to you.”

Oh god, you hate when you have to put it like that. It makes you sound so full of yourself. You’re not a movie star.

His eyes sparkle, “Thank you!” he pulls out a small notebook and hands it to you. “Can you make it out for Alex?”

“Sure.” you quickly sign your name—well, not your name name but your stream name; Honeysuckle. You add a little heart next to the name and return the notebook.

“Thank you!” he repeats, his genuine glee spreading in the air and caressing your skin. Your stomach does a small somersault as he walks away, clutching the notebook close to his chest.

“Well, at least he was nice about it,” Joel grunts, finally taking a sip of his coffee. You’re not sure what to take from his response, or expression for that matter. Is he mad? You don’t think he is. You nearly jump out of your skin when his focused gaze suddenly snaps to you. “You alright?”

“U-Uh, yeah,” you wave your hand in dismissal. “This kinda stuff happens. Most of the time they don’t say hi though.”

“So they just stare at you like a piece of meat?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” your voice is uncaring. Honestly, you’re used to it by now. It’s not like you had the most respectable job, at least, not according to most people. You can only imagine the comments you would get if you had Instagram, or if Ravish didn’t have a tight-proof system that allowed you to ban people on sight. You reach for your sandwich and take a bite, you chew slowly.

Joel snarls, “Assholes.”

“I was hoping you didn’t notice,” you smile around your second bite. He seems almost offended by what you said, crossing his arms over the expanse of his chest.

“Of course I did,” he huffed. “And why wouldn’t you want me to notice?”

“I don’t know,” you truly didn’t. “I guess I didn’t want any hiccups to happen right after we decided to be. . . exclusive.”

“Honey. . .” he gives you the tiniest smile, eyes full of care. “Don’t worry, people starin’ ain’t gonna get me packin’. Don’t you. . . don’t you know my feelings run deeper than that?”

Joel's words hang in the air, his gaze searching your eyes for any sign of reassurance. The last thing you ever wanted was to make him feel like he was the source of your worry, the reason for your unease. Yet, here he was, looking like he believed he was to blame for your discomfort.

You lower your gaze to your sandwich, suddenly feeling a weight on your chest that has nothing to do with the bagel. It's not that you doubt his feelings for you, but you've carried the weight of your own insecurities for years, and it's hard to let go of them all at once.

Tears threaten to well up, and you quickly blink them away, not wanting to appear vulnerable in the middle of the coffee shop. You take another bite of your sandwich, chewing mechanically as you try to compose yourself. The flavors of avocado and bacon mix on your tongue, but they seem tasteless compared to the swirl of emotions within you.

Joel's hand finds yours on the table, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles. When you finally muster the courage to meet his gaze, you're met with eyes that hold a storm of emotions. Concern, understanding, and a vulnerability that mirrors your own.

"You're not alone in this, you know?" he murmurs.

You let out a shaky breath. You're not used to showing this side of yourself, not after so many years of self-preservation and guarding your heart and yourself.

"I guess I’m still not used to this yet" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. "It’s not your fault at all, it’s just been so long since I’ve been with anyone. . . emotionally. I'm sorry if I made you feel responsible."

He leans across the table, his warm hand cradling your cheek. His touch is gentle, his thumb caressing your skin. "I get it, sweetheart. And you don’t need to apologize. We’re the same in that aspect, I haven’t been with anyone for a long time either. Just. . . know that I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. We'll figure this out together."

You lean into his hand, you’re feeling lighter already.

Joel's lips curve into a tender smile, and he leans in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. "Besides," he mutters, sitting back. “I don’t run away from what’s mine.”

Mine.

One simple word. A noun of all things, is what makes you melt in your seat. It’s sobering. Waking you in a way that no amount of coffee ever could. Mine. He said that. You heard the possessive lilt laced with the word, almost daring you to object. You nearly do if you’re honest, shadows dance in his eyes, draw you in like a bunny rabbit sniffing a tempting trap. You want to take the bate. Sink your teeth into that carrot to see how he’ll react, the things he’ll do to prove just how true his words were.

Instead, you clench your thighs together and propose something else instead.

“Let me prove to you that I’m yours then,” you say. Eagerness caused Joel's eyes to widen, his jaw betraying his emotions with a subtle twitch. “In fact, let’s show the world.”

No matter how vivid your imagination was, no matter how long you prepared and checked the equipment over and over again, nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for Joel walking through your bedroom door.

You had picked out a form-fitting black button-up shirt for him to wear. The fabric hugged his biceps, the seams barely holding on. The shirt stretched over the expanse of his chest, the buttons doing a better job compared to the seams in holding everything together. However, you were certain if he stretched even a little, the shirt would rip with a satisfying pop.

That isn't all, though. Your eyes move up from the shirt, your gaze tracing the lines of his body until they land on the striking green mask he's wearing.

The mask is a deep shade of forest green, with intricate gold detailing that seems to dance in the light. Swirls and patterns weave across the surface, accentuating the gilded flakes in his eyes.

His brown eyes peer out from behind the mask, a slight awkwardness to his gaze that seems to lessen with the hunger of your stare. The contrast between the vibrant green and the warmth of his gaze draws you in like a moth to a flame. The mask frames his face perfectly, showcasing his strong jawline and the facial hair that clings to his skin.

"I feel dumb," he mutters, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine. “Isn’t there a way you can just make it so that my face is out of frame?”

The mask had been his idea, he didn’t want to be recognized—rightfully so— and since he still wanted to stream. . . he bought himself a mask.

Too bad he doesn’t realize the effect it has on you. Only if he could feel how wet you were for him, that’ll surely put him in a better mood.

“Not really, we are going to be moving after all,” you answer. His gaze drops. “Joel, you look devastatingly hot right now.”

His ears perk at that, eyes lifting to meet yours instantly. “Really?”

"Come here," you manage to murmur, your voice laced with a mix of playfulness and longing. He obeys without hesitation, closing the distance between you in a matter of heartbeats. His hand reaches out, fingers curling beneath your chin as he tilts your head up. His eyes, those deep pools of honey, lock onto yours with an intensity that steals your breath away.

"Tell me," he whispers, his thumb brushing lightly over your lower lip. "What's on your mind?"

You swallow, your words catching in your throat for a moment before you manage to answer, your voice barely more than a breath. "You... the mask... everything. I can’t wait to feel you deep inside. Can’t wait for you to ruin me for everyone to see."

His lips curve into a smile, and he leans in, his breath mingling with yours as he murmurs against your lips, "Oh, don’t worry. I don’t plan on leavin’ an inch of you not clingin’ with my come, darlin’.”

Oh, fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Your lips part with a soft gasp and he slips his thumb into your mouth. Your tongue eagerly laps at his thumb, drawing circles, begging for him to press deeper. Heat radiates off of him, suffocating you in the best way possible. Your eyes drop to his crotch, the outline of his cock visible despite the dark blue denim.

Joel grins and shifts his hips closer, teasing you with a promise of more. You close your lips around his thumb and swallow. You’re in a trance. Body and soul bewitched by his presence. Your breasts feel full and heavy, nipples tingling.

“Go and start the stream, honey.”

Tingles. All you feel are tingles as you get up and desperately head toward your setup. Your legs are shaking. His eyes burning holes into your bare back. A second later his palm is on your ass, stroking the plump flesh and teasing the elastic of your panties. You sigh, the fabric sticking to your folds.

With practiced efficiency, you start up the stream, the familiar hum of your equipment filling the room. Almost immediately, comments begin flooding in, your "hive" eagerly joining the live broadcast. The chat scrolls rapidly, filled with excited greetings and bee-themed emojis, a testament to the unique community you've cultivated.

"Hey there, my busy bees!" you greet, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "I hope you're all buzzing with excitement, because tonight we've got a special guest joining us."

You let a mischievous smile tug at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicker to the monitor. There he is, Joel, standing just behind you, his presence towering and captivating even though his head isn't visible on screen. The comments explode with excitement, the chat inundated with messages about how good he looks, how lucky you are, and playful exclamations about your "hunk of a guest” and how they can’t wait for him to “pump you full of his come”. A bit crass, but you can’t say you disagree.

You continue, "But first, let's give a warm welcome to our newbies! Welcome to the hive, where we celebrate all things sweet and sticky." you wink at the camera and bend slightly over, wiggling your ass. Joel doesn’t waste any time moving directly behind you, hands on your waist as he pushes forward, making you feel the heft of his cock between your cheeks. A small moan escapes you, breasts swaying with his shallow grinds.

“And now, without further ado,” you say breathless. “Let’s start the show. Our guest is an impatient one,” you hear Joel scoff behind you, the voice making your pussy bottom out. “Am I wrong, sir?”

His nails bite into your flesh, showing you just how much he enjoys being called that. You smile as you stand up, giving one last look to the monitor to check everything is in place, you face Joel. You lean closer for a kiss, hoping that it’ll soothe his nerves. He must be nervous.

But before you can close the distance, he grabs your chin and pushes you back, just proving how wrong you are. Your eyes widen, the pressure he applies to hallow your cheeks emptying the oxygen in your lungs. “Not so fast,” he grunts. “On your knees, honey. Only good girls get kisses.”

Your insides pulse with a vicious throb. His voice takes on a tone you've never quite heard before. It's deep, a resonant rumble that seems to vibrate through the very core of your being. His voice, deep and resonant, like thunder during a storm and wraps around you like a velvet cloak, warming you. As you slowly sink to your knees, your pulse quickens in response.

A desperate, hushed rustling fills the room as a zipper is lowered and briefly, you steal a quick glance at the streaming setup, ensuring that everything continues to run smoothly. Joel’s head is still out of view, which you regret because you want everyone to see how good he looks in his mask—

His touch is a sudden and deliberate pull, “Eyes on me,” he growls, the bulbous head of his cock pressing against your lips. His fingers are wrapped around his impressive length, and instead of notching the head between your lips, he smacks your parted lips with it. A drop of precome stains your bottom lip, a string of it following the tip as he holds it above your face. Your eyes are glued to the masked figure above you. Despite the tone and the roughness, they’re just pools of soft honey, internally searching your face for any discomfort.

Joel begins to stroke himself and with a heavy gaze, you part your lips wider and stick your tongue out for him to use you however he pleases.

His dark chuckle makes your skin prickle with need. You come closer, dragging your tongue between his balls, nuzzling him sweetly. Joel curses above you and grips your shoulder, holding you back.

“Sir, please,” you gasp, attempting to get close but his hand keeps you at a small distance.

He doesn’t acknowledge your pleas, “Push those pretty tits together, sweetheart.”

Desperate and dripping, you press them together with your arms. His cock comes from under, the head piercing your tits as it pushes from between them. Joel hooks his thumb in your mouth and you obediently suck around the digit as he begins to thrust. Neither of you breaks eye contact.

Joel pushes himself further into you, driving his hips forward. His cock slides between your tits, filling your already open mouth with vigor as he rocks in and out of your ample cleavage. You moan around his thumb, the warmth of his precum dripping over your tongue.

Your body rocks with each stroke, the pleasure radiating through your chest with each thrust. Your nipples throb with arousal, hard like diamonds, as he slams his rigid cock into your tits. Sweat beads on his forehead and he grits his teeth, “Keep them together,” he grunts as he pulls out, with the head, he smears drops of himself over your heated skin.

Your eyes roll back at how possessive it is, the fact that everyone is watching already forgotten. “Good,” he says, pleased. He pulls away his thumb and drags it over your bottom lip. “You’re already so dumb for my cock, aren’t you. Eager to show your viewers how badly you want to be good for me hmm?”

God, the tremors in his voice, that southern drawl. He’s going to be the death of you.

“Y-Yeah,” you pant, chest heaving. Ignoring the ache it causes in the back of your neck, you lean forward and manage to taste him on your skin. You moan as your eyes flutter closed, your own breath warm against you. “Want to be your good girl again, sir.”

He pulls away from you completely, heading towards the bed. You stare at him blearily as he takes a seat, only coming to your senses when he hits his thigh, gesturing you to come over.

Just as you’re about to sit, he stops you, clicking his tongue while lifting a hand. “First strip, darlin’. Turn to the camera,” you don’t miss the way he smiles as you turn on shaky legs, staring directly into the lens. “Have you already forgotten how to stream? My poor sweet dumb girl.”

His words send you into a haze of submission. Needles stinging your back, you peel off your panties and bra, dropping them to the floor. “Good,” he hums. “Now sit on my lap, spread those legs so they can see how wet you got just from gettin’ her tits fucked.”

Joel scoots further back and gives you space on the bed to place your feet. With heavy lids, you spread yourself for him—and the people who’re watching at home. Your front facing the camera. To expose yourself in such a way, it’s different compared to what you normally do. You have fun with Dieter but it’s never like this, never as intense. A shaky breath escapes you when Joel places a hand on the inside of your thigh, pushing your legs further apart. He’s staring at you through the monitor, jaw slack. Meanwhile, you’re just happy people can see his mask, those brown eyes.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mutters, his role forgotten. “Look at you. Fuck,” his lips touch your ear, whispering the rest of the words so it’s only you that can hear. “You never stopped bein’ my good girl. Just sayin’.”

Your vision blurs with tears and you nod, his lips now on your cheek. He drags his mouth to your forehead and lays another kiss. “Now let’s give them a show.”

Joel cups your ass as he helps you lift yourself, aligning himself against your sopping core, he slowly lowers you, filling you inch by inch. Your head falls back, mouth agape, you’ve forgotten how big he is, how satisfying it is to take him so slowly. His breath is hot on your nape. “That’s it,” he purrs. “Just like that, show them how good you take cock, honey.”

“‘S big,” you slur. “S–So big, sir.”

He shushes you, lips moving over your cheek. “I know, honey I know,” he licks the salt off your skin. “But you’re my good girl, aren’t you? You can take it.”

Joel rears up, slowly pushing himself into you. His hands guide your hips to the right angle to let him slide deeper, your soft cries echoing through the air.

“I am,” you gasp, delirious, his cock completely sheathed inside. “I am. I–I’m your good girl.”

You twist around, straddling Joel as he takes both your hands and draws you close. His lips crash against yours, and you moan into his mouth as you grind your hips against him. Heaven help you, how can you take him like this with an audience? Images of all the people watching on your live stream dance in your mind, but it makes it all the hotter.

Your body rocks up and down as you ride him, your inner walls clenching around him. You’re panting and moaning, your body shaking as you pump harder. You feel Joel shift beneath you, his grip tightening as you take him even deeper, arching your back and pushing your breasts out. You can feel his eyes on you, as well as the eyes of the viewers watching you live stream. His cock glistens with your slick, every time you lift yourself, the light catches against it, everyone watching seeing how worked up Joel gets you.

You can feel Joel's warmth radiating throughout your body as he slides back and forth, gaining momentum as he thrusts harder. You stifle a moan, your eyes fluttering as pleasure overcomes you, your head humming with pleasure. Your body starts to slow, your muscles aching and trembling.

Suddenly Joel grips your waist, fingertips leaving dents in your flesh. He growls in your ear, drops of spit hitting your neck. “Who told you to slow down?” he pulls your body against him, forcing himself deeper into you. Every inch of you is shaking as Joel's hips slam against yours. His fingers find your clit, drawing gentle, quick circles around the sensitive nub. You cry out, clenching around him. “Look into the camera,” he groans. “Want them to see your fucked out gaze when I make you squirt.”

Your hands find purchase above his knees, the coil in your stomach tight, it’s too much. Too fucking much. Your head is swimming in a lavender haze, and before you know it, your cunt is pulsing around him, gushing and slowing his thrusts. You hear the faint pitter patters of a rain-like sound.

You barely register the liquid spraying from you, your body hot and burning while Joel’s fingers continue to move. Your drip down his length and down the inside of his thighs, and he rips another, albeit calmer, orgasm from you.

“Shiiiiiit,” he drawls. “Shit shit, honey, fuck, don’t move—” he makes a choked-out sound and spears you down flush on his cock. The sounds you make are completely debauched. A series of sir’s dropping from your lips, tongue aching to moan his name. You feel him spilling inside, so much, you think, so much of it filling you up. He’s still throbbing when he pulls out, gripping himself and ringing the last of it over your glistening cunt, drowning it in come.

“Oh fuck,” you murmur as he pushes it back in with the head of his length, you shudder around him. “So full,” you say, eyes dropping where you two connect through the reflection in the monitor.

“Not done,” he mutters and helps you lift yourself over him, cock slowly softening. “Push it out darlin’. Show them how much there is to keep you satisfied.”

“F-Fuck,” you let out a whimper, eyelids fluttering as his seed trickles out of you and drips over his length. You feel faint of heart, this probably being one of the filthiest things you’ve done on camera.

“Good girl,” he says, eyes glued to the camera. “My good girl,” he repeats, cupping your mound and slipping one finger inside with ease.

Joel gently lays you down on the bed, your body too weak to do anything. He walks up to the stream set up, his eyes flashing toward the camera one last time. “See y’all next time.” he taunts before shutting the entire thing off.

He throws the mask to the ground near your discarded clothes.

You don’t know what to think when he climbs onto the bed, mattress dipping with his weight before he pulls you to his chest. He kisses you slowly, taking his time as he tastes you. “Sorry,” he whispers into your mouth. “I think I might’ve gone overboard.”

“No,” you sigh dreamily, still in a haze. “That was perfect. I—I don’t think I can walk for a while.”

You let out a low chuckle and he smiles, pressing his lips into your forehead.

“Well, good thing I’m here then.”

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