#give me two margaritas… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 10 months

Text

Margaritas and Mistakes pt. 2

Pairing: Spencer x Female Reader

Genre: Smut, just filth really, nothing else. 18+ MINORS DNI!!

Summary: The morning after your night out you wake up and have to come face-to-face with the consequences of your actions. You find you quite enjoy those consequences though.

Warnings: Suggestive BDSM themes, soft!Dom Spencer (I'm a simple woman), daddy kink, dry humping, dirty talk, oral (F receiving), vaginally sex, multiple orgasms, over-stimulation, degradation, name-calling, pet names (baby girl, princess etc.), unprotected sex (no creampie).

A/N: Here's the much anticipated part two for yesterday's fic. Thank you for being patient everyone, and sorry to tease you all by having this completely written before pt 1 was even published but sometimes the anticipation only makes it better lol... Hope you will forgive me 🙏 ALSO! I hit 300 followers on this account yesterday, and I just want to say a massive thank you to everyone who has supported my writing here thus far! I can't do anything to celebrate as I'm on holiday for the next few days but thank you so much ♥️

Check out Part One!

Requests are open, and in the meantime please check out my masterlist!

When you woke up; that morning, you could instantly feel something was different. Not wrong, just different.

It wasn’t that you were uncomfortable, in fact the way the quilts laid on top of you kept you almost deliciously warm in your bed. It wasn’t the general mess of the night before either, as, surveying the room with one half cracked eye, you noted that all your discarded clothes seemed to be either neatly stacked away in the corner or perhaps left in the laundry hamper in your bathroom. The curtains were open, which you guess was somewhat of a change, but you honestly forgot to close them at least twice a week, so that wasn’t what it was.

You left out a quick yawn and decided whatever it was wasn’t as important as sleeping off the absolute killer headache that was currently burning a hole in the back of your head, a constant thumping that you wanted to do your best to avoid for now.

It was when you snuggled back into your sheets and attempted to turn over to find a new position that you realised exactly what it was that was wrong. You weren’t alone.

Cursing yourself for drinking so much you stayed as still as possible, as the man in bed next to you groaned in his sleep and seemed to pull you in tighter to his chest. You weren’t exactly complaining, but you couldn’t help the panic forming in your mind, as you absolutely had no recollection of bringing anyone home.

Scratch that, you had no recollection of getting home yourself at all.

Whoever it was, it was evident that he’d at least somewhat taken care of you. You couldn’t feel the mascara you’d worn last night glueing your eyelids shut, so obviously one of you had had the foresight to remove your makeup, and you honestly doubted it was you. The fact that you were wearing pyjamas, too, was probably a more positive sign. If you did have sex with the man, he’d most likely encouraged you to put clothes back on so you didn’t catch a chill in the night.

And boy did you hope that you had gotten lucky with whoever it was at your back last night. You couldn’t see his face obviously, with your back pressed up against his entire body, but you could feel him and he felt delicious.

He was long, and lean, but you could feel some strong muscles underneath as well. Even in sleep, he had a strong grip on your waist, the pressure of it pulling you back so your ass was directly in line with his crotch. You were almost tempted to shift slightly, to see if it’d give you a few more ideas about who your mystery man could be.

The best thing about him, thus far, however, was his scent. You knew that after drinking all of the alcohol you remembered ordering last night - and perhaps more that you didn’t remember - you absolutely didn’t smell that hot. And after a night of partying and dancing, too, you could almost feel the winter sweat sticking to your skin. Your bedmate, however, smelt absolutely fucking amazing. He had a musky, earthy scent, but it didn’t seem artificial. It felt warm and homely and all you wanted to do was turn around and nuzzle into his neck so you could breathe him indeeply.

But you had no fucking clue who this was, and you were coming up with blanks as to where you could’ve picked him up.

“Think, Y/N, think for once,” you whispered to yourself, chastising yourself for going shot for shot with Emily of all people.

You remembered being in Penelope’s apartment listening to Emily talk about her love of chardonnay, and you remembered the girls promising to find you a man that night. They’d obviously succeeded, but at the cost of your entire memory of the situation.

You thought a little harder again, back to sitting at the table and your stupid little game of fuck, marry, kill where you’d amitted your growing attraction to your office’s resident genius, and then downing a probably near fatal amount of shots to inspire your friends to forget they heard anything, and then… And then it all goes blank.

So you had no clues as to who your mystery man could be, and you didn’t want to risk waking him just to find out. In a last ditch effort, you cracked your eyes open again and reached out for your phone, sitting prettily on your nightstand, plugged in and charging. Whoever this man was, he was a saint, because if you couldn’t remember getting through the door, you definitely didn’t put your own phone on charge.

Trying not to stretch too much, you grabbed the phone and bought it as close to you as possible, shielding your bedmate from the light coming out of it. You immediately opened the messages, and your stomach dropped at what was waiting for you there.

Emily: I TOLF U I WAS A GR8 WING WOMAN!!1! When you two make baby ggeniuses, dont say I dind’t tell you so.

Penelope: Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Which is admittedly not a lot, but still!!!

JJ: Remember to take advil in the morning, I’m sure Reid will remind you as well, but you drank a lot tonight, and you never know when we’re going to get called in 🙂

The messages didn’t give you much of the context you needed, especially the ones sent by Penelope and Emily, but there was enough there to work out that you had majorly fucked up. And the sound of his groans from next to your ear told you that you only had around thirty seconds before your theory was tested and your mystery man woke up.

“Mornin’” came the voice from behind you, and if it were possible your heart started beating even faster. It was him.

“Reid! Good morning!” You tried to keep the curiosity and anxiety out of your voice, as you finally turned over to look at him. His sleepy face was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. His hair fell in small waves into his face and you had to stop yourself from brushing it behind his ear for him. There was a five o’clock shadow forming on his face that you’d never seen before and the scruff really suited him. His most distracting feature, however, was his lack of shirt. And the many small love bites that were now forming on his neck.

“How’s your head this morning? I was going to try to get you to take something for it last night, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“Oh my head? It’s fine, totally fine. Nothing to worry about there. Totally not pounding.” You groan and he cracks a smile at your attempt to downplay your self-injury. He grabs your hips and pulls you closer somehow, and you almost panic, ready to place your hands on his chest and push him away, but you’re not quite ready to admit that you don’t remember exactly what you did or didn’t do the night before so instead you push your hands up to his neck and play with his hair.

“Are you going to ask or do you remember?” He smirks down at you, rubbing small comforting circles into your back. You let out a small sigh, a goodbye to those few blissfully peaceful moments.

“Ask what? Ask if I remember climbing into bed with my coworker and leaving some quite pretty marks on his neck or ask if I actually got further than my fantasies have in the last month?” You trace your hand down his neck, stopping at a rather red patch where you can still see some trace of your lipstick from the night before.

“Ask whether or not I’m going to be fair and tell you what actually happened, or keep you in the dark and let your imagination keep running wild.” He lifts his body up, and rests on his side, his arm propping his head up.

You make a sound of protest and attempt to follow his movement but his free hand holds your hips down with a soft pressure, holding you there less with strength and more with the weight of your own curiosity at whatever it is his body is suggesting.

“You begged me last night you know,” he starts, leaning down and whispering it directly into your ear. “To stay. To fuck you like a desperate little whore.” Your legs pushed together now, a sorry attempt to curb the growing need pooling between them, but he didn’t let up.

“You pushed me down on the bed when I didn’t do what you wanted, like a little brat. So drunk out of your mind that I couldn’t touch you, but begging for it like you would die if I didn’t hold you down and let you scream my name.” The hand on your hip moved up and under your pajama shirt, a rather flimsy thing that did nothing to stop his oncoming conquest of your body.

“You made me promise something, you know?” He says just as his hand reaches one of your nipples. He pinches it, hard, as you throw open your mouth in a near silent gasp. Your hips buck involuntarily, and suddenly one of his legs is between yours, pinning you down again so you can’t move as he keeps his attention on your chest.

“Made me promise I would stay and not let you forget. Promise that, when you woke up in the morning, I’d fill you in on everything you did, everything you asked for.” He keeps his voice as low as a whisper and you can feel his breath on your neck, the contact sending a shiver down your spine, arching your back and pushing your breasts further into his hand.

“S-Spencer-” you beg with just that one word for more. But he stills his hand and moves it out from under your top.

“But if you remember, then we’re finished here right. I can go?” He looks down at you, pouting now and you hesitate for a second before answering him.

“I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything, so please…” you don’t quite know what you’re begging for at that point, but if you’d filled him in on any of the jucier details of your fantasies as of late, then you were in for a very fun morning.

He shifted his weight again, this time pushing your hips together, and holding his chest up with his arms stacked on either side of your head, you looked up at him again as one of his hands came down and encouraged your leg to wrap around his waist, allowing him to push even more of his weight down into you.

His head moved back to your ear as he began rocking his hips tantalisingly slowly into yours, dry humping into you.

“At first, you didn’t even know it was me. Just fell back into whatever body you thought would pay you the most attention. Rocked yourself back into me on the dancefloor, right where anyone else could see what a little whore you were being.” Despite the layers of clothing that separated you and the torturious pace, you felt your arousal growing by the second as you listened to him recounting the events of the prior night.

“And even when you realised it was me you didn’t fucking stop. Kept teasing me and playing with me in public, in front of our friends.” He growled a little bit then, obviously still angry about your actions the night before. You were bucking your hips up to match his movements now, teetering close to the edge of an orgasm. He hadn’t even really touched you yet, and you were like putty in his hand, ready to be molded into whatever shape he wanted you in.

“I drove you home, kept my hands off you, I was perfectly ready to let you forget the entire thing, but you couldn’t keep your mouth shut could you.” His hand was on your ass now, encouraging you to keep up your pace and deepening the contact between the two of you. You could feel his entire length pressed into you, and you wanted it inside you.

“Told me you wanted me to slam you against a wall and finger-fuck you, wanted to be my cheap little whore, wanted me to use you,” he groaned into your ear and bit down on your neck a second later, and you moaned, the pain and pleasure mixing together deliciously.

And then he stopped, pulled away and rolled off of you, and you cried out at the loss of contact when you were so close to your release.

“What is it, baby? You want more?” He smirked from his new position, sat up on the opposite side of the bed, just far enough out of reach that you had to crawl over to him.

And so you did. So desperate for the man, you climbed into his lap, and begged him for any reciprocation with your moans as you began grinding down on his leg again.

“Does my little slut want to cum?” He asked, his hands placed firmly and flat on the bed sheets either side of him, leaning back softly to watch your attempts to entice him into touching you again.

“Get off and strip down to your panties,” he demanded, and you happily complied, not caring where the offending pieces of clothing landed before jumping back into his lap. Apart from his lack of shirt, he was still in all of his clothing from the night before, a pair of loose sweatpants and boxers, and you relished the feeling of the fabric against your legs as you wrapped your legs back around him.

“I want you to use my leg to get yourself off baby, do you think you can do that?” He asked you, and you immediately nodded your head, desperate to start, but his hands on your hips stopped you.

“Use your words baby, answer me nicely.”

“Yes, fuck, yes I want to do that, please,” you whimper and he loosens his grip a little bit.

“Yes, daddy,” he demands and your eyes shoot up to his. Seeing that he is completely serious you feel yourself only growing more aroused as you stutter out another reply.

“Yes, please daddy.” He smiles at you again now and lets go of you completely, resting his hands on the bed again. Your hands come up to his shoulders and you begin your movements. You push your chest directly against his, desperate for some of your bare skin to be met with his, your aching nipples rubbing up against the plains of his chest in a near perfect way. You grind down into his thigh like its a lifeline, your every attempt to set an even tempo foiled by your absolute desperation to reach your climax.

He keeps talking to you throughout, mixing the sweetest of affirmations with the most disgusting insults, both driving you more and more crazy as the minutes tick by.

“Look at this disgusting little puddle my little girl has left on my pants. You’re so desperate for me, aren’t you my sweet little whore?” You moan out a reply, but he wants your words again. Delivering a painful slap to your ass he asks again, and this time you eke out a reply.

“Yes, daddy, I’m a nasty little whore, I want you so badly, daddy.” You whimper, the words and the shock of the slap bringing you ever-closer to your first release. Your arms are wrapped around his back now, scratching and marking him as if to claim territory, each one of his sharp-intakes at the pain driving you closer and closer until you finally feel yourself fall off the edge.

“So good for me baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple as you collapse into his arms, breathless from all of your hard work.

“I didn’t even have to touch you, and look at you. Looking like a fucked out whore, just for me baby girl," he whispered into your ear as he lifted you up, gently laying you back down on the bed.

“You think you can still do some more, baby?” He asked, and you nodded. This time it was enough for him, because he instantly shed the rest of his clothes and moved between your legs.

“You look so beautiful like this, baby. Gonna take care of you okay, just relax,” he kissed the words into your neck and started trailing kisses the entire way down your bosy. He paused briefly to show your breasts some attention, swirling his tongue around one nipple while he teased, pinched and pulled the other one, eventually switching to give them equal love.

But he didn’t stop at your breasts, pressing kisses down the length of your stomach before reaching your panties again. He looked up at you from his position before pulling them down your leg, making sure that your entire attention was devoted to him. He didn’t have to try hard, as your thoughts had been filled with him ever since he’d woken that morning, and you found you were quite content for it to stay that way forever.

He lifted your hips and slipped the offending piece of fabric down your legs. You shivered at the loss of contact at first, the sodden lace having been stuck to you after your desperate movements earlier. You were bare for all of five seconds before he dove into you, nudging your clit with his nose while he pressed kitten licks against your slit. You moaned out, not caring about controlling your volume, and didn’t stop as he continued licking and kissing like he was a man starved.

His tongue eventually made its way up to your clit and that’s when you lost it, bucking your hips wildly up into his mouth in a desperate attempt to use his face to get yourself off, but one of his large hands pinned you down again. He didn’t let up, rolling your clit around his tongue, bringing his other hand up to press a finger into you, beginning to pump in and out.

You didn’t even feel the build up this time, just closed your eyes as your hips jerked up once, twice into his face, not even a breath escaping your lips for what felt like an eternity as he let you ride through your second orgasm. He didn’t stop, but he removed his mouth from your centre, his fingers still pumping into you as you began twitching underneath him.

“Good girl, so fucking good for me. You’ve got one more left, right baby? One more left to give me, hmm?” He asked, but you couldn’t answer anymore, just nodding your head as best you could and bucking into his hands like a woman gone mad.

“Perfect baby, open your legs wide for me, okay?” His voice was gentle now as he gave his cock a few pumps, removing his fingers and flipping you onto your knees, putting you in the perfect position for him.

“You have to tell me if you want me to stop, okay princess? Tell me if it’s too much and we can end this right here,” he gently pulled the hair away from your face and pressed a final kiss to the back of your neck, finally lining his cock up with your glistening hole.

Then he’s finally pushed into you, and you could've sworn you saw stars. He fully sheathed himself inside of you and didn't move for a minute, choosing instead to press small kisses against your neck and back whilst you adjusted to his considerable length. He didn’t have to wait long though, as you could feel yourself practically dripping around him, making even more of a mess of your sheets.

He picks up a steady pace, pulling out halfway and then snapping his hips back into you with such force you’re grabbing your pillows with a vice grip. You tried to push your head back down into the pillow to soften your moans as well, but he grabbed you by your hair, wrapping it around his wrist, using his new leverage to pull you back onto his dick with each stroke.

“Wanna hear you baby girl, don’t fucking hold back,” he grunted into your ear, the new angle of his hips hitting that deep spot within you that had you flooding the sheets almost instantly, pushing out wave after wave of cum as you moan his name like an animal driven mad.

“That’s right baby girl, fucking cum around my cock, get it nice and wet,” he continues pounding into you, pulling out more and more of his length each time to hit deeper and deeper each time he returns to you. Your legs were practically shaking then at the overstimulation, your tongue hanging out of your head as you failed to form any coherent thought except “yes.”

His hips start faltering quickly and you knew he was close. A few more snaps of his hips and he pulled out of you completely with a small curse, shooting his load up your back as he released his hold on your hair gently. He collapsed on top of you, his arms around you as he kissed his way up your spine.

The two of you sat there for a few minutes, the only sound that of your ragged breaths as you both attempted to catch your breath. After a few minutes he pulled away, and you heard him retreat to the bathroom. He came back swiftly with a washcloth and cleaned the two of you up, wiping his cum from your back and chest and doing his best to clean up your cunt without overstimulating you even more.

“Baby, we have to go to the bathroom now, you need to pee,” he gently turns you over and you whimper at the movement. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and you push yourself up to a sitting position next to him, unhappy that he’s being so responsible now after possibly ruining you for other men forever.

“You’re going to have to carry me, you know,” you grumble, resting your head against his shoulder. “My legs are still shaking like I’ve just walked a thousand miles with no rest.”

He chuckles at that and wrapped your legs around him, picking you up swiftly. He didn’t move immediately, just content to have you in his arms for a few seconds. You looked down into his eyes and you felt it too. Like you’d never want to be anywhere else but right here, in his arms. You pressed a gentle, sweet kiss to his lips and you felt his smile as he returned it.

“Come on, Y/N, it’s not the first time I’ve had to force you into the bathroom and I doubt it will be the last,” he laughs, and you laugh with him. And in that moment you realise that he has you for life.

--X--

🏷️: @ihavenotitlesblog @gibbsgirl7 @beefyboisbeefybongos @bluecandycake @piecsesrising @dim-i-try @simp4f1 @marylovesevanpeters @daddy-dotcom @alondralolll @thearsonistrat @eddiemunsonssweetoltatties

(I know some of you didn't ask to be tagged but you asked for a pt. 2 so thought it couldn't hurt, lmk if you want to be untagged!)

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #maturereiding #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fandom

3K notes · View notes

satorusugurugurl · 10 days

Note

Can you please make something like y/n losing her virginity to Gojo and when she wakes up she misunderstood that Gojo just wanted to have one night stand and as he never make contact with any of his one night stand, so y/n left writing some notes for him. But Gojo genuinely loved her and then he searched for her finding y/n passed out somewhere or finding her getting attacked by some cursed spirit.

🥹🥹

First Time

Summary: You lose your virginity to you friend and co-worker, the strongest sorcerer of the modern age; Gojo Satoru

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!R

Word Count: 5,848 (oops!)

Warning: loss of virginity, mentions of drinking, fingering, jerking off, oral sex, smut, fights, assault, choking (not the fun kind)

A/N: Well this, this was a lot of fun! 😂💚 I got super into it Nonnie!! Thank you! Enjoy!!

“No, absolutely not. That is a terrible idea.” your best friend and colleague looked you in the eyes, not once breaking contact.

“What do you mean it’s a bad idea? Do you think he has something?”

“Do you honestly think I would know if that man had any sexually transmitted diseases?”

“Well, you’re saying it’s a bad idea. So I was just curious as to why you think that is.”

Nanami let out an aggravated sigh, “I don't think I know it’s a bad idea. I went to high school with the man, for God's sake. He is a serial cherry popper.” your best friend took a sip of his beer, aching his head as he did.

“So he has some experience in doing so.”

You ran your finger over the rim of your margarita glass. You were ignoring the cold, judging eyes of your best friend. Nanami knew you had a crush on Gojo for the last few years. The two of you were constantly flirting with each other, and just recently, he had gotten a little more touchy-feely with you, rubbing your shoulders and brushing his hand against yours. He went as far as to kiss your cheek. Nanami knew what he was playing at. The blue-eyed menace was buttering you up; he saw you as his next target.

“It doesn’t matter if he has experience. If you’re looking for anyone with experience, you could always come to me,” he whispered. Thank God that you were a little too out of it to notice what he said. He was trying to make a point; you both were nothing more than friends. The point he was trying to make, though, was that if you were that desperate to lose your virginity, you could always rely on him. “Gojo is notorious for having one-night stands. He’ll get what he wants and be gone the next day.”

“Do you know that for a fact?” Frustration began to rise in your chest. “ or is that just part of the rumor train?”

Nanami wasn’t sure how to answer that. He hadn’t personally met any of Gojo’s past relationships. He did know that several women had claimed he had popped their cherries and left the next day. So, of course, he was nervous for you. Nanami could see the glittering glaze in your eyes whenever you looked at Gojo. You were so into him it was almost painful.

“Rumor train,” Nanami confessed, looking away and“Then it’s settled!” despite your best friend's warnings, you got up and headed straight to the bar where the Gojo Satoru stood.“Hey Gojo.”

Your colleague and massive crush turned to look down at you. His hair was a fluffy mess, his dark sunglasses shielded, his beautiful eyes from you., and he had a smile on his face that could give anyone cavities. You both had been flirting with each other nonstop for the last three months. You have been waiting to see if he would be the one to ask you to go home with him, but you were tired of waiting.

“Hey, sweetheart~ having fun?” He took a sip of his soda.

“I'd be having a lot more fun if you took me back to my place.”

Satoru choked, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he coughed into his fist. Regardless of his initial reaction, you could see the desire in his eyes. He wanted as bad as you. The constant flirting, lingering eye contact, and subtle touches had brought you both here. Were you, for the first time in your life, inviting a man to come back to your apartment to have sex?

Losing your virginity didn’t have to be special. You were fine as long as it was with somebody who knew what they were doing. From how Satoru acted, there was no doubt in your mind that he knew how to please a woman. It was your virginity, and you chose to give it to Gojo Satoru.

“Seriously? Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of something in my entire life. So what do you say? Wanna come to my place?”

There had been no questions asked. Satoru grabbed your hand and led you out of the bar and back to your apartment. That’s how you found yourself being slammed against the elevator door, Satoru’s mouth eagerly moving against yours in a fiery kiss. His hands reached up, massaging your breasts, causing mewls pleasure to leave your mouth.

“Fuuuck, oh fuck.” Satoru growled, his lips pressed against yours eagerly in between each word. “You have the most perfect tits.” His tongue gently flicked over your bottom lip, and the second you opened it for him, his tongue was in your mouth, gently moving against yours.

The raw carnal need behind his caresses of your skin and the way his lips moved against yours had you dizzy. Never once in your life had you ever felt so desired. Satoru wanted, but no, it was more like he needed you. Knowing that had your panties soaking wet.

“Oh fuck, Toru.” As Satoru’s fingers slid under your shirt, trailing over your heated skin, you arched your back off the cold middle of the elevator. “T-Toru~”

“Fuck you’re so goddamn hot.” Lips latched onto your neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin there. “You taste like a fucking gourmet meal~, and that's just your skin.” he took your earlobe between his teeth, nipping on it. “Can't wait to taste that cunt. I bet she's already wet~.”

His long fingers slid under your bra, brushing over your hardened nipples, rubbing the sensitive buds. “I-I’m so wet, so fucking wet.” Satoru hummed in your ear, and one of his sinfully skilled hands trailed down, slipping into your pants. “Holy shit!” you cried out as his long fingers gently rubbed over your throbbing clit.

“Oh fuck, you weren't kidding.” His fingers rub and tease your sensitive clit. “You’re soaked.” soaked was an understatement. Fisting his jacket, you bury your head in his shoulder as he trails his fingers lower, teasing your tight virgin entrance through your panties.

“F-Fuck, oh fuck.” Satoru pulls back, glancing down at you as the elevator reaches your floor.

“Your pussy is throbbing.”

“I need you, Satoru. Need you so bad it hurts.”

His soft pink lips find yours again in a searing kiss as he pulls his hand out of your pants. “Then take me home so I can take care of you.” Not needing to be told twice, you grab his wrist, dragging him to your apartment.

The second you're inside, Satoru kicks the door shut with his foot, hands locking it before they grab you. He is slamming you back into the wall of your entryway. His fingers make quick work of your shirt, unbuttoning it, tossing it to the side, his lips never once leaving yours, leaving you a breathless mess. He pulls back, giving you a chance to gulp down ark, as he pulls his shirt off, allowing you to run your hands down his toned abs.

“Bedroom?” he asks, lips attacking your neck as he lofts you off the ground.

Your legs wrap around him as he starts blindly moving forward. “First door on the left,” Satoru growls against your skin, turning right. “T-Toru, that's the bathroom, left!” The extremely sexy man grunts in response, making a swift left, nearly sending you tumbling over.

“Sor-” kiss, “sorry, I just can't wait to get inside of you.” The man you’ve had the biggest crush on for years tosses you onto your bed. Satoru doesn't even give you a chance to react; his hands unbutton your pants, yanking them down. “Fuck you smell so fucking good.”

He’s trailing kisses up your inner thighs, his teeth gently nipping at your skin. Skin that had never been touched by another person other than yourself. The sensation of his fingers, his lips, his teeth on you doing things you had only dreamed of him doing. It had you breathless.

“Satoru.” The man between your legs let out a hungry groan.

“I love hearing you say my name like that. Say it fucking more; I want to hear you scream my name.” his fingers hook under your underwear, yanking them to the side., allowing his tongue full access to your dripping cunt. “Say my fucking name.”

His warm tongue is on you before you can even process what he’s saying. His tongue laps at your entrance before slowly sliding up and down your lips, teasing your clit but not touching it yet. Being eaten out for the first time is like seeing God. Satoru is so skilled with his mouth that it has you digging your heels into the bed, toes curling, and your eyes rolling back.

Satoru hums against you, eyes brows furrowing as he seals his mouth around your dripping sex, sucking on it, teasing it with his tongue. His eyebrows knit in concentration, his eyes never once leaving your face. He is entranced with you and with your reactions. Satoru wants to make you cum; the man is determined to do so.

You didn’t stand a chance against him or his skilled tongue. The second he started flicking your clit with the tip, you lost all control. Reality seemed like it shattered into one million pieces as Satoru drove over the edge of your first orgasm with someone other than yourself. You buck up against his face, your head thrashes against your pillows, and you cum harder than you have in your entire life.

“Mmmphm, fuck.” Satoru growls from between your legs. “That’s it, baby, give it to me, give it all to me.” His tongue continues to lick and lap at your folds, making sure to leave not an inch of your unexplored with his mouth.

“T-Toru, oh fuck.” He had left you a pile of useless limbs. “N-Need you, want you inside of me.” you sit up, hands reaching for his pants, undoing the button. He sucks in a breath as your hand gently rubs over his hard, throbbing cock. “S-So thick, and it-it’s hard.”

“Yeah?” The smugness in his voice has you pressing your thighs together. “Wanna touch it~?”

Giving him a nod, you pull back, allowing him to lie down against the headboard. His breathtaking eyes never leave you, following your hand that slips under his boxers and pulls them down. His cock sprung up, bouncing as it stood straight in the air. The tip was a throbbing dark rosey color, the tip dribbling out pre-cum as it twitched in the cool air of your apartment. His hair is trimmed short, a happy trail leading from the v-line down to the base of his cock.

It draws you in like a siren calling sailors to the sea; you’re drawn to his cock. Your fingers try to wrap around it, but you can’t; he’s too thick. Satoru moans out in pleasure, feeling your warm, soft hand wrap around him. It’s so velvety and warm that your curiosity gets the better of you, urging you to stroke him up and down. You give in to the desire, jerking him off slowly.

“Fuuck, ooh fuck.” Satoru calls from above you, his thighs twitching, body shaking as you continue your movements. “Fuck sweetheart, feels so fuckin’ good.”

“I-I don't know what to do.” At the sound of your confession, Satoru chuckles.

“Want me to help you?” He watched as you bit down on your lip with a soft little ‘mhmm.’ “Alright, just follow my hand.” he wraps his larger, rougher hand around yours. “Here we go.”

Satoru drags his hand up and down his shaft, Allowing more pre-cum to dribble out of the tip, coating his shaft in the slick, sticky substance as makeshift lube. You know you should be paying attention to how his hand is moving. That way, you would know how he liked to be touched. But you can’t help but look at his face. His pale ivory skin is flushed, his lips are slightly parted as he whines, and his eyes are narrowed, focusing on your hand that is jerking him off with his.

Eroticism is not the way you would describe this; this was pure filthy porn for you. His face, the way he took his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing on it, would forever be in your spank bank memory—his ab’s clenched and moved, and time with his deep raspy groans of pleasure. Satoru was losing himself in the pleasure of just your hand. You couldn’t wait to see the expression he made when he was inside of you.

“Sweetheart, fuck.” He groans, jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together. “Fuuuck, your hand is so soft. If you keep it up, I’m gonna cum all over you.”

Hearing him say that, knowing that you could make the Gojo Satoru cum, you jerked your hand as fast as you fucking could. You swatted his hand away, taking complete control. Satoru threw his head back with a roar as you licked your bottom lip, focusing all your attention on how you were moving your wrist. Up and down, twisting and pulling it as he had shown you. Your free hand reaches down and his heavy balls, massaging him gently, urging him to spill his seed all over your hands.

His cock throbbed twice in your hand, and you thought for just a moment that he was about to cum for you. But before he could, his free hand swooped down and squeezed himself at the base of his cock, preventing himself from cumming all over your hand like you had wanted. His chest was heaving, and the flush on his face had spread the base of his neck down to his pectoral muscles.

Satoru swallows hard, wincing as you run your index finger over his slit, spreading the precum over his throbbing tip. “Why did you stop? Weren't you about to cum?” Strong hands grab your upper arms, flipping you so you’re the one underneath him.

“I was, but I would much rather cum inside of you.” those filthy words have your cunt drooling, your slick dripping down to the bed underneath you. “Is that okay~?”

“Yes, god, yes, please, please fuck me, Satoru.”

“Oh, you beg so nicely; how could I deny your request like that?” He slots his body between your thighs, and he rubs the head of his cock up and down your lips, smearing his pre-come over your clit. “Want me to grab a condom? I have one in my wallet.”

“No, I have an IUD.”

“Such a dirty, needy girl.” He presses the tip against your tight entrance. “You sure about this?”

He knew you were a virgin; you had mentioned it to him in passing in between your flirting the last few months. For him to take the time to ask you if you were okay with this made your heart sing. Nanami was wrong about him. Gojo wasn’t just going to up and leave; he genuinely seemed to care about you and what you wanted.

He was the perfect man to lose your virginity to.

“I'm positive.”

Hearing your consent, Satoru sighed in relief. “Awesome, just let me know if you need to stop.”

His cock gently pushes into you. You awaited the dreaded sharp, stinging pain you have been told about your entire life. But the pain never came. It was just a sensation of being full and some slight pressure. The unfamiliar sensation had you gripping Satoru’s biceps, digging your nails into his delicate ivory skin as you tried to adjust to the new feeling.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Y-Yeah, I just needed a second. It’s just a weird sensation.”

Satoru gently peppers kisses over your neck before meeting your lips once again. “Relax, I got you; I got you, baby.” Everything Satoru was doing for you had your muscles less tense as he pushed further inside of you. “You're taking me so well, such a good girl.”

“Satoruu~” your hands finally managed to leave his arms before wrapping around his neck, pulling him tighter against you.

“That's it, you’re gonna be good for me, right? Gonna let me bottom out inside that sweet tight cunt?”

You didn't even need to give him permission; his hips meet yours as he’s balls deep inside of you. You are breathing heavily against each other’s mouths. Your soft whimpering mixes in with his deep guttural groans.

“Tight, you're so tight, almost had me blowing my load like I was the virgin.” he pressed his mouth against yours and gave a soft, gentle kiss. “Are you okay?”

You nod, a wanton moan leaving your mouth as he begins grinding his hips into you and not entirely pulling out to thrust back in. But the simple grinding of his cock inside of your pussy, hitting your g-spot, made you squirm underneath him. Satoru repeats the grinding for a few minutes before his lips leave yours.

“I'm gonna start moving, okay?” Your little moans and nods were the only signs Gojo needed to see and hear to know he was ready to move. His poor little sweetheart hadn’t even been fucked thoroughly yet, and she already couldn’t find her voice. “Hey, if you need me to stop, just let me know.”

His hips move, gently pulling back before snapping forward, burying himself deep into your tight heat. He groans breathlessly, eyes shut tight as your walls clamp down on him. “Oooh fuuuck, fuck, you're so tight, so tight, baby.” he pulls out again, leaving you gasping before he immerses himself back into your cunt. “Fuck you feel that~ feel my cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy? Does that feel good for you, baby? Huh?” Satoru growls as he sets a gentle pace, gently fucking you into the bed.

“S-So good T-Toru, haaa haaah fuck you're twitching.” At the sound of your voice, Satoru’s cock twitched again, this time even harder, making you shudder at the knowledge you were making him feel this good.

“Of course, I’m twitching; you're so fucking wet and warm; it honestly feels like my dick is melting inside. So yeah, fuck, fuck,” his pace speeds up, “my dick is twitching inside of you because you feel so fucking good.”

Having sex felt so good! Having sex with Satoru, well damn, it was like heaven on earth. Well, you didn’t have anyone else to compare it to, but you knew that your first time was monumentally better than anyone else. He was so gentle, kind, and patient with you. You couldn’t think of anybody else that would be that sweet. God, he made you feel so good.

Your back arched off the mattress as you dug your nails into his back, climbing up his muscles with your nails. The pain dialed him up, pushing him to fuck you faster and deeper while trying to be as gentle as he could, knowing the fact that you were a virgin. He could only maintain his composure for so long thought.

“F-Fuck, ooooh fuck, fuck.” His cock is dragging against the spots deep inside of you that felt like pure pleasure every time he brushed against them. With each touch of those sweet spots, your wall hugged his cock, letting him know you were closer to your orgasm as much as he was. “Yeah, you like that baby? Like it when I fuck you like this? I popped your cherry, and now I’m fucking you into the mattress.” You’re so loud that your moans reverberate off the walls. “Yeah, you love it. You love my cock inside that pussy.”

“Y-Yeah! I love it!” A coil deep in your abdomen begins tightening and tightening. “I-I’m gonna cum!” eyes locking on with Satoru’s “Oh fuck, fuck I’m close, Toru!”

“Cum for me, milk my cock, sweetheart~ that's it~ that's a good girl~ yeah~” his thrust no longer has any rhythm; all that’s going on in his head is making you cum and filling you up.

Your orgasm hits you hard in the gut like a punch to the stomach. It’s not painful in the slightest. It is a pure, unfiltered pleasure. The kind pleasure that has you seeing white spots. You scream into the void as you squirt all over Satoru’s cock and the bed. The image of you cumming so hard sends Satoru tumbling over the edge right after you. He curses and grits his teeth before he latches his mouth into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin, leaving marks for only him to see.

You’re a shaking, sweat-soaked mess by the time Satoru pulls off of you, falling onto his side next to you. His lips gently press against your cheek before finding your lips. They move against yours in a symphony of pleasure and pure bliss. Satoru spoons you, his arms wrapping around your body, pulling you flush against his naked form.

“You did so good.” His voice is so soft, lulling you to sleep. “Such a good girl~ thank you for letting me be your first.”

You hum, happily turning to kiss him on the lips before resting your head against your pillow. Slowly losing yourself in the warmth of his body against yours. “Thank you for making my first time so special.” His fingers gently graze over your skin as he breathes heavily against the nape of your neck.

“Mhmm, you're welcome. Get some rest, okay?”

You don’t even answer because you’re already sleeping. You dream the most peaceful, beautiful dreams. Ones where you, Satoru, have sex, go out on dates and enjoy each other’s company. God, you couldn’t wait to see you the next day took you. What did the future have in store for the two of you? More happy-go-lucky memories like this? If you could live through days like this, you would be the happiest woman in the entire world.

Dopamine and serotonin spread through your veins throughout the night while you sleep and find you in the early morning sunlight. You’re under the crisp, cool sheets that cradle your body. It’s when you move to turn to look at Satoru that you realize just how sore your body is. You hurt in places that you didn’t know were even possible to hurt.

All you needed was a nice hot shower with your extremely hot partner, and you should be all set to go. Rolling onto your side to look at him, your smile fades. Satoru isn't there.

You reach for the side of the bed he had fallen asleep in, trying to see if his lingering warmth was there. Hoping that if it did, maybe he was in the bathroom or the kitchen making you breakfast in the movies. But the crisp sheets under your hands are cold. He must have left hours ago.

Sitting up in bed, you reach for your cell phone on the nightstand next to you. Unlocking it, you search for a message Satoru may have sent you about why he would leave after such a perfect night. There is no message. No missed calls, no text messages. Nothing. He had slept with you, taking your virginity, and he left you with nothing.

Everything from the night before was perfect. You both had a great time, so why would he get up and leave without telling you? Even if he went to get breakfast for the two of you, he could have at least texted you to let you know that. Even when you pulled yourself out of bed with wobbly legs, you discovered he wasn’t even in your living room, let alone your apartment.

The truth hit you like a wrecking ball. Nanami had been right. He warned you. Your best friend warned you that Gojo was a serial cherry popper. You didn’t listen to him. You thought you knew him better, but the months of flirting back and forth, the late-night conversations on the phone, and the missions meant more than just one nightstand.

The hopes of there being any connection between the two of you left your apartment just like he did. You would never not listen to Nanami again; he was always looking out for you. Since you hadn't heeded his warning, you had to suffer with the heartache you had brought upon yourself. That Sunday, you cried yourself back to sleep curled into a ball and mourned your stupidity and the loss of a relationship that never even existed

The next day, you texted Yaga, letting him know you wouldn’t be coming to work for the next couple of days. You needed time to think about what you needed to do next. Gojo was your colleague and a man with whom you were forced to go on missions and teach the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers. Being around him would be challenging. If things had played out differently, and he didn’t just up and leave you alone in the apartment, maybe you wouldn’t have to be weighing your options.

The way you looked at it, you had two different choices. You could completely ignore Gojo when you return to work—keeping things strictly professional between you. Or you could ask to be transferred to Kyoto, where you would never have to see his face again.

You return to work on Wednesday, and the second you step through the school gates, Gojo stands there waiting for you. His hair was fluffed up as his blindfold was pulled over his eyes, but you could tell his gaze was locked on you.

“Hey, we need to talk.” He tried speaking to you, but you ignored him. “Sweetheart, please just listen to me.”

“I have work to do, excuse me.”

The entire day, Gojo kept bugging you and begging for you to stop to listen to what he had to say. Whatever excuses he had come up with, he could shove them up his ass. He had left you without any explanation at all. So he didn’t deserve your time of day.

You finally found some peace when he was forced to teach the first years for his class. As he left, he pleaded for you to set some time aside so that you could talk things out later. There was no way in hell you were going to sit there and listen to whatever bullshit excuse he came up with. You couldn’t, not when you had been told what kind of person he was, and against your better judgment, you went through with sleeping with him.

Before you could find yourself in another stupor, the door to your classroom opened, and Yaga stepped inside. The higher-ups had requested your assistance with a curse downtown. Specifically, they asked for both you and Gojo to assist. He was preoccupied with his students, so you decided this was easy to handle.

Instead of waiting to talk to him personally about taking on this mission on your own, you did exactly what he had done to you days prior: left without saying a word. You grabbed your shit and walked out the door; being courteous enough, you left a note behind on your desk. It also colorfully told him you had nothing to say about sleeping together.

Your words described how you thought he was different, how you had assumed there was more than just a one-night stand between you, but he had other ideas. At the end of your note, you wished him a long and happy life; there was nothing more to say after that. Writing that note allowed you to get all of your frustration, everything, off your chest without actually saying it to his face.

With the note behind you, you had one of the assistant supervisors drive you to the location of an abandoned building. Luckily, with the curse inside, you didn't have to lower a veil. This was, hopefully, going to be a simple in-and-out mission. At Least, you thought it would be.

Stepping inside the building, you automatically sensed the presence of the curse. One that was a grade four curse, making it super easy to take out. You honestly did it in record-breaking time, but it wasn’t the curse you had to worry about.

The curse user watching you the entire time you fought against his little monster charged you the instant his curse spirit dissipated. He pinned you to the ground, his hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing down on it. You choked, kicking your feet underneath him; your talisman paper was just out of reach; your fingers grazed over it, but you couldn’t grasp it. The man above you looked at you with dark black eyes, determined to kill you.

“I worked so hard to train that curse!” the man shouted as you gurgled on your saliva. “Then you come in here and just destroy it?! How are you any better than they are?!”

Your nails dug into the flesh of his hands, yanking and pulling at his fingers, trying to free yourself as your shoes slid against the dirty floor. Black spots began to appear in your vision; you were so close to passing out. Maybe you should have waited for Satoru. He may have been an asshole but at least he would’ve had your back.

“You sorcerers all deserve to die!”

Help me.

“Die and rot in hell when you belong!”

Please, someone, anyone!

“You deser—”

A flash of red floods the room as the man is sent flying through a wall, well, several walls, finally freeing you from his grip. You curl in on yourself, coughing and gulping down air. You don’t even have a chance to fully recover before you’re scooped up into arms, arms that had held you several nights before. Gojo says nothing as he carries you out of the room you had almost lost your life in.

Silence remains thick until he takes you outside and sits you on the concrete stairs leading to the alleyway. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” The urge to run away is as strong as your need to take deep breaths. There was no point in running now, especially after Gojo had saved your life.

He returned several minutes later, waving at the assistant supervisor's black car. His hands are shoved into his pockets as he watches the car turn the corner before he turns in your direction. His blindfold is still entirely on hiding his eyes from you. But just like this morning, you can feel his gaze locked solely on you.

“We got ten minutes before the cops show up.” You give him a thumbs up, winning a frustrated sigh back. “I got your note.”

“Good.” Your voice cracks as you try to clear your throat.

“No, it’s not good.” He snaps, stomping towards you, crouching down in front of you. “You honestly think I didn’t feel anything that night? That was just a one-night stand?”

“You left!” You cough roughly. “You left without a word, Gojo! What else am I supposed to think? To me, you leaving without a word is pretty plain and clear.”

A large hand cups your face, holding it gently. “Yaga called me in for an emergency. I was needed at the Kyoto school that morning.” You blinked back tears. “And I was going to call you, but I left my phone at the bar because I was so excited to be with you finally.” His head dropped forward with a heavy sigh. “But the more that I think about it, the more that’s like a shitty excuse. I should’ve woken you up before I left, but you looked so peaceful that I didn’t want to. I should’ve known and done better. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“Yeah, you should have asshole,” you sigh, “ at least you have another cherry under your belt.”

“I don’t just want you to be another girl in the notch of my belt!” His hand tightens around your face. “ I know I fucked up. I didn’t get to truly talk to you and tell you how I feel about you.” Your eyes met his. “This isn’t an ideal situation either, having just saved your life, and I almost killed that man.” He yanks his blindfold down, revealing his blue eyes to you. Eyes that are solely focused on you. “This is a terrible time to tell you that I love you; I love you so damn much.”

For the second time today, you find it hard to breathe. Your eyes widen in shock as Satoru stares at you, waiting for you to respond to his confession. If he had told you this several days ago before he had left without a word, you would’ve been over the moon. Now, you weren’t sure how to react. Part of you was still happy that he felt that way, but he left without a word; he should have handled things differently. That was in the past, though there was no point in crying over something that had already happened.

Deep inside your heart, you knew how you felt regardless of what had happened days before.

“I love you too, you idiot.” The white-haired man before you perks up, grinning wide. “But I’m still pissed off. You owe me big time for leaving me after popping my cherry dick.”

“Baby, I’ll do anything you ask, anything.” His hands are gripping yours, planting kisses against the back of them.

“I want you to take me on a date. A real date with food and dessert.”

He smiled softly, his dimple visible as he planted another kiss on your hand. “Dinner and dessert, I can handle that.” He helps you stand, ushering you forward, his hand in yours. “I could sweeten the deal. Maybe I could make you cum on my tongue all night? You don’t even have to worry about me. Just let me worship you if you want.” While his offer is tempting, you lean against him.

“Honestly, I’d rather go on a date and have mind-blowing sex like the other night, just without you leaving me.”

“I can do that too.”

Satoru is true to his word; he takes you to the nicest restaurant he knows. Buys you a bottle of champagne, orders a five-course meal, and every dessert on the menu. After your wonderful first date, he takes you back to his apartment and makes sweet love to you all night. He had you arching, gasping, and clawing at his back for the second time in your life.

The following day, you wake up finding him missing again. The bedroom door opens before you can grab your phone to see where he is. Satoru comes in with a massive tray of food. Mixed berries, coffee, pancakes, and eggs and bacon. He sits on the bed beside you, setting the tray between you.

“Good morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He offers you a steaming cup of coffee that you gladly take,

“I slept great.” You lean over kissing his lips softly.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

942 notes · View notes

luveline · 10 months

Note

If you have any interest, how about a Spencer blurb where he's off on a case and gets or misses a late night call from the reader and is super worried, only to call them back and find them drunk and missing him. And of course the team rags on him after.

thank u for ur request! fem!reader

Spencer looks down at his phone and goes ghostly white.

"What?" Emily asks. "They had a sale at Waterstones and you missed it?"

Spencer clicks a bunch of buttons on his phone and brings it to his ear, crushing limp hair to his neck. "Seventeen missed calls," he says.

Derek comes to the rescue, though the lightness in his voice is slightly forced, "Don't panic, wonderboy. Who wouldn't be eager to talk to you at… two AM?"

"Is that the time difference?" Emily asks, leaning forward in concern.

Even Hotch puts down his pen. The team listens to the phone ring. It loops, loops, loops, and everybody breathes a sigh of relief when you finally answer. If something happened to you Spencer wouldn't survive it. Nor after everything he's already been through.

"Hey?" he says. There's a gap of silence. "Y/N, are you there?"

"Spencer!"

Spencer turns away from the table they've congregated at and looks through the open window at the parking lot, police cars roaming in and out of spaces. "What's wrong?"

"I miss you so much."

Spencer's nose wrinkles of its own accord. "Yeah? You sound odd. Are you– are you drunk?"

Derek laughs. Like marionettes held tight with strings suddenly cut, the team stop their stressing and send each other knowing, amused looks.

"Just a little bit!" you promise, clearly lying. Your voice catches on the syllables like they're coated in sticky honey, the slightest slurring tripping you up at the end. "We went for– to Chilli's. I had a blooming onion and seven margaritas!"

"I can tell."

"I'm really sorry, Spence, I know I'm not s'posed to call when you're away," you begin.

Spencer glances back. Rossi and JJ have returned with coffee and a late dinner, neither of them bothering to act as though they aren't listening to the conversation.

"No," Spencer says, turning back around and hunching inward, "that's the opposite of what we talked about, isn't it? You can call whenever you want to, but I can't, you know, always answer. I thought something bad happened. Maybe next time you could text me?" Rather than call almost twenty times and give him a heart attack.

Laughter echoes from behind. They team act like a teasing family sometimes, Spencer their teenage son who's never dated.

He would fluster if you weren't talking to him in loud but loving tones, "I can barely walk, texting wasn't happening. I'm para-spelgic."

"You're not," he says, firmly at first. "Are you? Who's with you? Is Rebecca there?" Rebecca being your best friend. Spencer trusts her to take care of you.

"She was, but she said that I– uh… She said I talked about you too much and made her nauseous. I feel kinda sick, too, but I just needed to talk to you, Spence. I miss you. I miss you, are you home soon?"

"Is Rebecca really not there?" he asks. He thinks about the room full of special agents he's standing in and drops his voice to a murmur. "I miss you too."

"She's making toast or something."

"That's good. It'll soak up the margaritas."

"I don't want toast, I want you! Please come home safe, angel. I really wish you were here to do that thing with my ear."

Spencer has to give in. You're speaking so loudly it's impossible the team hadn't heard it, but he can't find the will to be embarrassed any longer. You're drunk and ridiculous and all you can think about is him.

"I wish I was home, too. Do I need to worry about you? Make sure you're drinking water, okay? Alcohol makes you dehydrated, you'll get a bad headache."

"It makes me miss you," you whine.

He smiles fondly. "There's no cure for that." A door opens over the line. "Is that Rebecca?"

"Yeah." Murmurings. "She says sorry for letting me get so drunk, but she didn't let me do anything. It's like you always say, Spence, I can do whatever I set my mind to."

"And you set your mind to getting drunk at Chili's."

"Exactly!"

You talk a little more before he hangs up. He knows you're getting taken care of.

A gaggle of smiling faces greet him as he turns around. "Everything okay, 'angel'?" Derek asks.

Spencer puts his phone in his pocket. You'll text him in the morning with a hankering for Tylenol and sore eyes, but you'll be fine. "Everything's great."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

3K notes · View notes

theemporium · 7 months

Note

how about💰 with lestappen ?

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

“If it isn’t my favourite customers.”

Charles’ face seemed to light up as you approached their table, as though their eyes hadn’t been on you since the second they entered the yacht club twenty minutes prior. He sat up a little straighter in his seat, everything about his expression soft and endearing as you stood in front of them, dressed in your uniform with your hands politely held in front of you.

“Finally admitting we are your favourites?” Max questioned, seeming a little less eager than Charles but something in his chest still warmed when your eyes settled on him.

“You have some tough competition with Mrs Harrison,” you told them, trying to bite back the smile that wanted to grow on your face because you knew if your manager saw, he would have far too much to say. “She tips me well and she tells me how pretty I am. She was even three margaritas deep today when she said she wished I was her daughter. It made me quite emotional actually.”

Charles raised his brows. “That’s our competition?”

“Don’t worry, Charlie, she can’t compete with your looks,” you teased, the words light-hearted and playful, and yet they still made his cheeks turn a light shade of pink. “You two want your usuals?”

Max nodded, seeing as the other boy was far too flustered to open his mouth. “We always do.”

Because that is what they always did. You didn’t remember when or how long ago the two Formula One drivers started spending time at one of Monaco’s elite yacht clubs, but you were painfully aware of them the second they were on your radar. The way they would always show up together, the way they always ordered the same drinks, the way they always wanted you as their server and no one else.

They never used the yacht club for the social or networking aspect all the other members used it for. They just used it for you—even if you were blissfully unaware of the fact. They showed up at the club one night on a whim and the next day they were members, they were craving any possibility they could to see you again after the first time they laid eyes on you.

And you were so, so unaware.

You were unaware of the status they really held in Monaco, despite knowing they were famous and beloved athletes. You were unaware of the resentment other servers and even your manager held towards you for being favoured by the drivers. You were unaware of their true intentions for their visits and their growing desire to see you.

“We have something for you,” Charles had said the second you arrived with their drinks, placing them down on the table with the grace of a professional.

Your eyes snapped over to Charles’, already shaking your head. “Not this again—”

“Mon amour,” Charles sighed.

“You guys can’t keep giving me gifts,” you said to them, taking a step back from the table and you felt like you were staring at two wounded puppies when you did. “It’s too much. Far too much.”

“It’s our tip to you,” Max said nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“No, it’s not,” you retorted.

“It is, and it would make us—the club members—extremely happy if you took the tip,” Max countered, a look a little too smug for your liking on his face.

Because he did this every time, both boys did this every time. They would come in and try to tip you obscene amounts of money that made you feel a bit nauseous. They continued to do so until they realised your manager was taking the tips and splitting the money between the other servers too. So, they got a little more creative on how they spoiled you, on how they took care of you.

And despite refusing every single time, they always managed to make you crack.

You glanced over your shoulder warily to make sure your manager wasn’t looking before you faced the boys again, taking the box in Charles’ outstretched hand before carefully opening it. Your lips parted in surprise as you took in the dainty piece of jewellery, so soft and simple and elegant.

You almost felt guilty for touching the necklace.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, almost absent-mindedly as your fingers lightly traced the charm on the chain before you looked at the boys. “I can’t accept this.”

“You have to,” Charles reminded you with a grin. “It’s your tip.”

“It’s far too much,” you said with a shake of your head as you glanced down at the charm once again, your eyes eager to take in every small detail of the charm. You opened your mouth to say something, only to pause when the light caught some detailing in the charm,

C.L. M.V.

“Is that….are those your initials?” You questioned aloud, looking at the charm in confusion before looking at the boys.

“Hm? No, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Max answered casually in response.

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “It’s your initials. C.L. M.V. How dumb do you think I am?”

“It’s not our names, cherie, it’s a simple coincidence,” Charles said as he waved off your assumption. “It’s just the initials of the brand.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the brand name then?” You countered.

“Some fancy Dutch one you would’ve never heard of before,” Max answered quickly. A little too quick to not be suspicious. “We just thought it would look great on you.”

“And it works with your uniform regulations, so you can wear it on shift,” Charles added with a charming smile, but the rest went unsaid between them. So you can wear our names around your neck, even when other men ogle you.

“I—” But you cut yourself off, knowing that arguing with them was a lost cause and would only catch the attention of your manager. “Thank you, both of you. It’s probably one of the most beautiful gifts I have ever received.”

“It will give us a challenge to top for your next gift then,” Charles teased despite the look you gave him.

“You two are relentless,” you said to them.

Max only grinned wider. “And you love it, schat.”

1K notes · View notes

nichuuu · 5 months

Text

Lemon.

Word count: 13k+

You decide that you don’t quite like Balls (get your head out of the gutter).

Music: odd. Yes, it’s a fancy mansion—5 floors, the works… But you don’t know how to feel about the sole pianist in the centre of the foyer, the one that’s playing some classical piece that has the people around you murmuring about his technique and sound (whatever the hell either of those meant).

People: you don’t know a good half of them. Scratch that—it’s a sea of strangers

Drinks: strong, way too fucking strong for your liking. The drinks are free of charge, and the bartender clearly didn’t shake this Pina Colada well, but you have to drink it if you want to even try and get into the mood of the party. Around you, men in posh suits and women in flamboyant dresses skirt each other, talk to each other with placid smiles—hoodwinking each other with their highfalutin laughs and smiles to establish connections that probably won’t matter in a couple of days. The only person you’ve talked to tonight is the bartender, and that was just to order your drink.

This whole place stinks of capitalism, and you feel out of place in your cheaper suit and dress shoes. On your right, some guy is talking about how bitcoin and blockchain will make a grand return, some lady is gossiping about the latest Gucci handbag on your left. In front of you, a man and a woman are clearly flirting with each other, bashful grins on their faces as they hold their fancy drinks in their hands and talk about god knows what. You’re wondering if you should ask for a straw from the bartender just to dip your toes in social interaction.

Wonder why Cinderella was so hot on attending a Ball, thing seems pretty bland to me, you’re thinking, watching the tip of the ice that was shaped like an iceberg melt away and sink beneath the surface of your margarita. Some guy in a tux comes by, orders two glasses of Prosecco—one for him, one for the woman next to him. He’s talking loudly, disrupting your peace and quiet. Your solution: move seats.

From a distance—two chairs away from your original seat—you watch as he takes the two glasses from the hands of the bartender, hands one to the woman, then clinks his glass with hers. He’s preternaturally genteel, and you’d know because you recognised him as the guy that got slapped at the start of this whole thing because he grabbed the ass of someone’s wife. Impropriety, but it’s the behaviour of the newfangled rich.

Now he’s bragging about his car. Nissan GTR fitted with this engine, this ventilation, blah, blah… Whatever it is he’s saying, the woman’s having none of it. You’re no psychologist, but you can tell that she wants to get out of a conversation; her smile is awfully sweet, but you can see that she’s silently importuring him to shut his trap—her eyes give it all away. You pity her, silently sending her your best wishes as the man grabs her by the arm and leads her back into the sea of people. Personally, you’d be screaming if you were in her shoes.

(Off to your left, just at the edge of your vision, you see your boss talking to a woman. She’s getting touchy, really touchy and really flirty; her hand’s on his thigh, fuck me eyes out to play and on full display—A trite tactic used by these types of women to get lucky with a rich man at these type of events. Luckily for her, your boss is quick to bite on to such bait. God bless them both.)

For the record: you’ve never really enjoyed Balls or anything of the ilk, because quite frankly speaking, you’d much rather burrow up in your bed at home and binge Kimini ni Todoke till you were giggling and squealing like a little schoolgirl. Maybe I’m still young, I’ll learn to like these types of events later on, you tell yourself, I’ll need connections at some point, maybe I should start—

A sickly sweet fragrance crawls up your nostrils, truncating all thought. Perfume, you’re quick to identify, and then you’re aware of the presence of someone on your right. Your grip on your glass grows tighter in the slightest; you’re praying—Please just be ordering a drink, please be ordering a drink.

Frankly, you don’t know why you’d ever think anyone would talk to you, an unimportant cog that just tagged along with his boss because he had nothing better to do. Irrational fears are really a funny thing.

Sharp, clear, resonant—three words that came to mind when you heard the voice of the person next to you, the voice that delivered the simplest of orders: Yamazaki. I want it neat.

Your first thought is, Damn… Neat Whisky? Someone’s having a horrible night, as you turn your face away from her (if you couldn’t see her, she wouldn’t be able to see you, right?). And just as you’re wondering if she’s gonna take her drink and leave, your question is answered by the soft creak and even softer rustle of shifting fabric from your right. You bristle.

The glass makes a sound against the wood as it’s gently placed down on the table.

(Now would be an excellent time for a subtitle to come in, one that states in square brackets: Awkward silence.)

You can hear her swirling the liquid around in her glass. Fuck, now this is awkward… You’re thinking, and then you’re wondering if you should just get up and leave, absquatulate, skedaddle—any word that can convey the act of disappearing in an instant—right out of there. But as you start to slide your butt off the chair, that voice rings out once more.

“Not much of a talker, are you?”

She doesn’t know how her simple sentence has caged you in the most challenging position (to you at least). Now you’re sliding your ass back into the bar stool and you turn and face her—

(Now that you’re looking at her, your second thought about her comes in: God, she’s beautiful. Dark brown hair that falls just past her shoulders like velvet curtains, soft yet somehow piercing eyes, a smile that makes you feel fuzzy all over—probably one of the most attractive women you’ll ever meet. She’s the woman from earlier, the woman that you saw smiling and nodding placidly to that guy who got her the Prosecco. She must’ve found a way to slip away, and she has your full respect for that.)

—and you find that you’re drumming your nails against the base of your glass.

“Shy, huh?” she’s throwing out a guess, watching as the Whisky in her glass slowly swirls to a stop inside the chilled glass. “It’s been a while since I met a shy man. You’re a breath of fresh air.”

You shift in the stool, and your first instinct is to ask her if you two had met before. It’s only after that last syllable leaves your mouth that you realise how stupid of a question it is. You don’t know her, and judging by the fact that she hasn’t called you by your name: she doesn’t know you either. You let her decide whether to oust you as a fool as she scans you up and down.

(Update on your boss and that woman: She’s kissing him now, full on making out. It’s an unsettling sight to behold, and you attribute your queasiness to the fact that they’ve somehow found they’re way behind the woman you're talking to. Your boss doesn't see you; you choose not to see him. God bless them both.)

“Well… Considering that you don’t look the least bit familiar,” she sets the glass down, “and that you haven’t been introduced to me like some product by a crusty, old man… I think it’s safe to say that we’re.”

Now her eyes are on your drink. What are you drinking this fine night? She’s asking, using her chin to gesture towards your Pina Colada. You tell her exactly what it is, and she cringes slightly. They say Pineapple doesn’t belong on pizza, I say it doesn’t belong fucking anywhere. Oust it as a fruit! she’s telling you, making sure to add a little more emphasis on the word “oust” as she couches her firm belief, something you find rather hilarious considering that it’s your first meeting with her. She sips the Whisky, grimaces a bit, then sets the glass back down to say, we skipped past a lot of formalities, didn’t we?

And here comes the part of talking to strangers that you’re the most comfortable with—Introductions. You think that it is safe to assume that just about anyone would find saying hello and telling someone your occupation much easier than holding up a conversation, what more with a beautiful woman like her. You give her your name, tell her what you do for a living, the usual stuff. She listens, the gleam in her eyes that comes when you’re done talking ever so enigmatic and cryptic.

“Lawyer huh?” She’s playing with her glass again, “considering were we are right now, I really shouldn’t be this surprised… Yet I am. Little shy for a guy dealing clients on the daily, no?”

Somehow, by the grace of some supernatural force (you call it alcohol), you crack your first joke of the night—I know. The most I ever talked is in court—and you’re relieved that she’s kind enough to humour you (or maybe she really does find it funny. You’ll never know), and gives you an elegant chortle, one that makes your hair stand at their ends as your third thought about her goes through your mind: even her laugh is attractive. Is there anything wrong with this woman?

And when she tells you her name, you realise why she seems to be exuding this inexplicable aura; Minatozaki Sana, pleasure to meet you, she introduces herself with a generous amount of pizzaz. You’re scanning her up and down at this point, and only now do you take in the expensive dress that dons her slender frame, the same dress that’s accompanied by a glimmering necklace and earrings, 3 rings on her middle, index and ring finger respectively.

“You’re…” you begin.

“The host’s daughter? Yes.”

Now you’re at a loss for words. Well uh… It’s an honour to meet you, is what you plan on saying, but it comes out as a simple, more blunt manner: Oh damn. Sana’s giggling to herself, swirling her Whisky as she watches you struggle to find things to say to her.

“I take it that you don’t come around here often?” she asks. When you raise an eyebrow, she explains how her father hosts a Ball like this every other month to try and find her a “suitor”. Apparently, 27 years old is “too old” to still be single, so my Dad just gets a bunch of men together and parades me around, she’s carping. The glimmering chandeliers, the array of drinks and food, the vanity of all these people; the dazzling marble floor, the glass sculptures, the embroidered tablecloths; this event, in all its glory and prestige, is all about her.

Christ, you’re thinking to yourself, money really gets you to places, huh?

Now she’s explaining how some of the people here are frequent visitors. Mothers and their sons, fathers and their sons, young business men, old business men, middle aged businessman; whoever can afford to come to this lavish Ball—all of them frequent this mansion like moths to a flame, all looking for a chance to ingratiate with the Minatozakis so that maybe, just maybe, they get a chance to get Sana’s hand in marriage. It’s a glorified yet obsolete form of Tinder really.

(Your boss is nowhere in sight now, and you’re pretty sure that the two of them have gone off somewhere to get it on. Maybe this event isn’t just about Sana, it’s about finding a rich person that can spoil you for the rest of your life too. God bless everyone here.)

“So what brings a man like yourself here this fine night?” She seems oddly interested in you (and also very hot on using this fine night as well apparently). You give her the truth that carries your watered down emotions in your tone—My boss asked me to tag along. Apparently all attendees were to bring a male plus one.

Sana chuckles, but it’s one of bitterness.

“So Dad’s reverted to these tactics huh?” you hear her whisper before taking an alarming large gulp of Whisky. She swallows, then sighs, “wonder what he’ll do next… Maybe an arranged marriage?”

Past the frustration and utter disappointment, there’s amusement in her voice. It tells you: if I could, I’d kill my Dad. It’s more of an inference from your end than a message that you’re sure that she’s trying to imply. You always had a bad habit of reading between the lines—probably picked it up from your job.

Sana downs the rest of the Whisky in a flash, wincing as the alcohol burns her throat. She scratches her nose, then turns to you and asks, “say, you don’t look like you want to be here, and neither do I.”

Behind you, you can hear the voice of a man approaching. He’s talking to someone—my daughter should like you very much, you seem like a man that suits her taste—and Sana bristles. Her father, you deduce, noting the way that the woman before you is searching around for an exit. Then you blink, and in that split second, she grabs your hand.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Just like that, you’re running through a crowd of people, spewing a million-and-one apologies as you jostle your way through the crowd, in tow behind a woman you've known for a grand total of 5 minutes.

A very unlikely start to a romance really.

Now the gears in your head are whirring, your stomach’s churning—there’s no other way to describe how you feel when Sana’s looking at you like that from across the table: small smile, a slight gleam behind those eyes, hand under her chin and fingers tapping against her cheek… She’s got you in perdition just with a look. You’re a guy of relatively taciturn nature, and the last time you went on a date was in university. That date went horribly, and now you’re wondering if this one was gonna go up in flames as well. Your brain urges you to say something to her, but your mouth seems to be sewn shut.

On the other hand, Sana’s poised as ever. “What’s wrong?” she’s cocking her head and pouting slightly, “nervous?”

You're not ashamed to admit that you indeed are, and that you’ve never really gone out on dates in a long time. Sana seems tickled by this—It’s been a while since I’ve seen a shy man. I like it, she tells you—and assures you that she won’t bite. In fact, she’s glad that you’re quiet and not rambling off about some business venture. She tells you, I don’t recall the last time I’ve been with a guy like you, though I’d appreciate it if you assist me in starting some conversation, and you’re slightly ashamed of your reticence.

There’s a gleam in her eyes when you start asking her some questions on her personal life, and she finds it congenial to gesticulate in a moderate manner as she answers your questions. Her outgoing nature leaves you flummoxed, and there’s barely enough space in your brain to remember everything she tells you about herself. Born in Osaka, likes yoghurt smoothies, likes to take walks in the park, likes this, likes that… You vaguely remember her telling you this on the night that the two of you escaped that event.

(To jog your own memory: She took you to the garden, where the two of you spent the rest of the night strolling amongst shrubs and other greenery that thrived in Spring. The Pina Colada in your system allowed you to hold a conversation, one that lasted long enough for her to take a liking to you. At the end of it all, she gets your number, you get her’s, and a date’s been settled in some french restaurant she patronises.)

“Now, I don’t expect you to remember all of this,” she’s watching the wine leave streaks against the glass, “but if you do, I believe you're entitled to some extra points.”

“Points?” you’re keen on inquiring, “we’re keeping a scoreboard?”

Sana simply smiles. For asking that question, minus 2 from you, is her answer—not a very good one if you were to be blunt. You can’t suppress a chuckle as you take a sip from your own wine.

Unwittingly, Sana has eased you into her presence. It suddenly feels like you’ve known her forever (if forever meant 2 weeks that is).

A smooth start to a relationship if you do say so yourself.

“Sana, there’s people out there.”

“I know.”

“They might hear us.”

“I know.”

“We could get caught.”

“We won’t.”

It’s the confidence in her voice that irks you really. The lack of hesitance combined with the sheer lack of shame towards the fact that anyone outside the changing room in this damn Prada store could easily raise a phone over the door and start recording. It’s not that she’s not cognizant of this, but more of the fact that she doesn’t give two shits if someone captures a video of her blowing you in this dressing room. Shameless, aplomb, obstinate, are the three words that come to mind when dealing with Sana at the given moment, but there’s no energy in you to convey this to her, not when she wraps her lips around your cock. The outfits that she chose remain untouched behind her, fabrics still in light while the person that chose them remains active on her knees.

(Almost a year. Almost a year the two of you have been dating. You thought you’d learned all there is to know about her, yet she’s hitting you with new facts and surprises every day, left, right, and centre. There are probably many more things that you have yet to figure out, but they’ll all come to light in due time.)

Really, it’s on you for not exercising due diligence upon entering the store; you should’ve known better from the moment you saw that look in her eyes while she was looking at a dress. But there’s nothing you can do about it now, not when she’s already enraptured you with that damn gaze—the one that exudes want and lust, the one that’s the leaven to your morality in her eyes. She knows that she’s got you wrapped around her finger when your hand rests itself atop of her head as she slowly bobs her head over your crotch. She’s taking her time despite the situation that she’s placed the both of you in.

“This has always been on my bucket list,” she’s letting her hand run along your shaft, spreading her saliva with each stroke of her palm. Her nails, freshly done just over 2 hours ago, glisten under the light—partially because of her spit and partly because of the gloss. “Everything about this is just so… Eroctic, isn’t it?”

Christ, she’s really into this thrill-seeking thing, you note as you choke out a reply: Not particularly, but whatever floats your boat Sana (obviously, it doesn’t come out as smooth as it should. No one would be able to get out a full sentence with phonics properly strung together if they too were getting blown in a changing room). She’s got a glint in her eye, but it’s covered by your shaft as she slides her tongue down your cock, nose brushing against the base of your cock, just behind her tongue. She knows what she’s doing, she’s given you head before; she’s building up the suspense and waiting for you to beg for more. You really don’t want to indulge her, you really don’t, but there’s not much you can do when she starts placing kisses on your shaft—base to tip in a fervently slow fashion. How far is she gonna go with this, you can’t help but wonder, but you quickly have your question answered in the next second or so.

“Unenthusiastic?” she quips, “minus four”.

She wraps her lips around you and pushes her head forward, and you almost let the people in the store know that something’s going down in here.

You figure that the feeling of her lips wrapped around your shaft will never get old, not when it sends electricity up your spine and makes your hand ball into a fist in her hair. Her eyes seem to glint as you let out a sharp gasp. Yes, you could be caught by an employee at any second. Yes, you could very well be caught on camera by a customer at any second. There were a lot of things to consider when assessing the dangers of the circumstances that Sana has put the both of you in. Yet, none of them take anything away from the pleasure she’s bringing you, not as she starts to bob her head in beat to the metronome in her head. There’s no point in trying to figure out her pace.

“Jesus… Fuck… Sana I…” Your voice is—somehow—hushed as you struggle to convey how weak she’s making you, but it’s not like you need to anyway—she knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s loving every second of the havoc she’s wreacking upon your senses. The slight tug in the corner of her lips is the suggestion of a smirk, and the muffled noise that rises from her throat is the implication of a giggle.

There's a knock on the door and you bristle; Sana slows down, but she doesn’t stop. Past the door, the voice of the staff that led you to this very room asks if everything is alright in there, and you’re praying that her eyes aren’t set on the floor. Sana locks eyes with you, then darts her eyes to the door to tell you—Answer it goddamnit. Of course, she doesn’t make it easy for you as you open your mouth, applying light suction to your tip as you find the strength to say: Yep, just give us a few more minutes please, making you choke on that last word and sending alarms blaring in your head. Thankfully, the store assistant is kind enough to leave you with a take your time sir, and the shadow of her feet disappear from the gap beneath the door. It’s then that Sana pops your glistening cock out of her mouth.

“A few more minutes, huh?” She’s got drool on the corner of her lips as she rises to her feet. “Better make this quick then. You gotta keep your word as a lawyer, don’t you?”

Her wit is certainly better than most of your colleagues.

(There are customers outside now, you can hear them talking to the store assistant. They sound vaguely familiar… Maybe you heard them at the restaurant? Or maybe they’re colleagues… No, that can’t be it, at least you hope so).

Now for the record: you’ve seen Sana naked on multiple occasions, be it voluntarily or not. The shower, the bedroom, even a public shower at the pool… You could name a lot more places where she’d shamelessly flaunted her nude body before you off the top of your head. “A body to die for” is a fitting expression for Sana; you’ve always wondered if you’d find her on the top of the Google image search if you were to look up “dream bodies”, and you figure that you can probably get her there if you could somehow take pictures with your eyes as she undresses before you. She’s more methodical than anything, straying away from her usual teasing nature for the sake of being quick (that’s what you infer from her behaviour, but really, she could just be extremely horny and desperate. There’s never a solid answer to Sana’s behaviour). Mini skirt, then top, then bra; she’s going through the motions that she’d usually drag out just to get a reaction out of you preternaturally quickly.

Why is she getting naked in a changing room? You have no clue. Your best guess: she’s doing it for the thrill of it. The thought of getting caught completely nude with her boyfriend speared inside of her must be sending lethal doses of adrenaline through her veins. A pretty solid guess if you do say so yourself. No time for anymore guesses anyway—she’s already brought your hand up to her right breast, and she’s closing her eyes to enjoy the feel of your fingers closing around the semi-firm flesh. Her top lip’s furling behind her front teeth, she’s letting her other hand rest on your arm. She’s telling you where she wants it—did you cum in my ass yesterday? Or was it the day before? Ah, whatever… Give me a fucking creampie—in this soft, low voice that sends a velvet chill down your spine. Then she's kissing you softly, sweetly, nibbling on your top lip as usual, all while pushing you to the corner of the room where your feet aren't visible to those outside, flushing your back against the wall. It’s an uncomfortable fit, but that quickly changes when she grips the middle of your shaft and lines you tip up with her slit. The hand on her tit is guided to that slim waist, your other hand quickly finding its place on that symmetrical, slim figure.

“I don’t care if I cum or not,” she drawls, trailing a finger down your chest, “I just want your load inside me, right here, right now. Just focus on that, nothing else.”

(Half request, half demand—give her an award for being so damn ambiguous. Subtitles that could translate what she truly means would be really, really handy right now. Alas, such a system doesn’t exist.)

Describing how Sana’s pussy felt would be doing her injustice. The feeling was ineffable. From entering her to hilting yourself inside of her, there was never a second of that process where you had an easy time breathing or thinking. You’ve never been so reliant on your senses to keep you grounded in reality, nor have you ever been so glad that Sana’s nails are digging into your shoulder. This position—facing each other, standing and fucking against the wall of (all places) a changing room—is a stranger to the both of you, but the sheer tightness of her cunt working hand in hand with the intimacy of it all has you welcoming it with open arms.

Your hips are moving on their own, taking liberties without signals from your fried brain as you start thrusting into Sana. For long, wordless minutes, you're thrusting into Sana in a mindless, slow fashion, relishing the feel of her skin in your palms, the look on her face, the soft moans that are slowly slipping from her ever so slightly opened lips. Then your ability to think slowly returns, and you’re thinking like a damn neanderthal—tight, wet, hot, so fucking good—as your grip on her waist tightens. Your shaft glistens in the light of the changing room, slick with her sweet juices as it slips in and out of her slick, spearing into her with depth, making her legs weak. Sana cups your cheek, lifts your head, and it’s now that you see how her eyes have been completely glazed over with lust and want. Her face, her figure down to the sounds she’s making; everything about her, about this, is the phantasmagoria of a wet dream.

If you were being completely true to yourself right now: You couldn’t care less if you got caught.

And as if on cue, the voices approach as soon as you finish that train of thought.

“Do you provide altercation services?” It’s the voice of a man, closely followed by that of the store assistant: Of course sir. After you try on the suit, you can note how you’d like it to be altered to your liking.

A shadow of feet appears at the base of the door. Sana cups a hand over her mouth as the door rattles—the customer trying to open it. You stop your movements, breath caught in your throat as the store assistant tells him to use the other fitting room. Sana’s breath is loud in your ears as a second set of footsteps approach, followed by a female voice that asks, “Is my husband in there?”

Yes ma’am, is the assistant’s reply. Of course, this is hardly the end of it.

Now, as the woman engages the store assistant in conversation right outside your door, Sana lets the hand on her mouth drop. She flushes herself against you as the store assistant answers, and she whispers, “Keep going”.

Endlessly seeking thrill. Classic Sana.

The logical part of you warns you against doing as she says. Sadly, there’s not much room for logic in your head in the given circumstances, not when your balls-deep inside your girlfriend in a changing room. There’s barely enough room for dilemma to occur; Sana’s the sole occupant of your mind, rent-free, free-hold, and really: she’s the only thing that matters right now.

She almost, just almost, lets out a cry when you spear yourself back inside her. You didn't expect to start so soon, and neither did she. However, catching her by surprise is a novelty to you, and you relish in that brief rush of smugness before you restart your movements. Her mouth is frozen in a silent scream, but her eyes say all that she wants to: smug asshole, I’ll kill you later. You reply by letting your index and forefinger slip into her still-open mouth.

“Personally, I enjoy the Italian selection more…” The store assistant’s voice is barely audible to you over Sana’s small, muffled moans that manage to skirt your fingers and Sana’s closed lips, and as the lady starts talking about trench coats, Sana coats your fingers with a fresh layer of saliva, turning your fingers slick and slimy with her tongue as she looks you dead in the eye, as if challenging you: Is this the best you can do? Is this the riskiest you can be?

Every question from her deserves an answer, and your’s is to remove your saliva-slicked fingers out of her mouth, draw a circle with her spit just above her collarbone, then whisper right into her ear: I’m gonna mark you right there. The involuntary gasp that she lets out tugs the corner of your lips up into a perverse smile. Slowly your lips drift down to the glistening spot, and you wait just a moment to build up that sweet-sweet suspense. It’s a split second, but it’s a second too much for her to bear—the way her body tenses when you finally make contact is the clearest indication you will ever receive. And when you start sucking, God does she almost drive you over the edge: she tightens, she gasps, she starts twitching; she loves it, every second your lips stay locked around that sweet spot of skin is bliss to her.

You can hear the door to the other fitting room unlock, and you hear the man’s heavy footsteps as he walks out, no doubt in that suit he had earlier. The compulsory question comes: how do I look?

There’s a brief moment of silence, and you’re almost fearful of the fact that maybe, just maybe, their ears are picking up on the ragged breathing and slightly audible squelching coming from the other fitting room. All consternation dissipates when the woman starts to comment on how she looks, but Sana seems to have an answer to his question as well: So good. So fucking good. Harder, let me feel all of you, fuck me harder. Oh fuck, you’re so fucking deep.

You look dashing honey. The pitch of the woman’s reply harmonises with Sana’s soft whine as your lips leave her skin, the same patch where you’ve left your purple artwork on. I think we can afford to alter the pants—

Sana crushes your lips against hers, hot breath filling your mouth as you feel her lift her leg. You hold the back of her knee (like the gentleman you are), bring it to your side, hold it there. She bites your lower lip, hard enough for her to pull and tug it as you start losing yourself in her: her scent, her breath, her skin—all of it’s so deliciously addicting. You can’t get enough.

Then she’s going straight to moaning into your mouth, letting those muffled cries permeate in the small space and hopefully not outside the fitting room. She’s wet, she’s tight, she’s everything you need right now. You want, so badly, to pull her apart, ruin her till you can’t put her back together, get her begging at the top of her lungs for you to fuck her harder and harder.

And you’re almost on the verge of calling her a slut. There’s no need for that though, she knows what she’s made of herself.

—so that they’re a little shorter. I think we could also try—

Sana’s figured out the best way to moan: straight into your ear. She’s not letting up with them, and she’s giving you one hell of an array of sounds. There’s the common ah, the not so common, oh, and the very common shit, fuck, fuck me and so good. Her phonics are so loosely strung together that they’re just a jumbled mess, and you're perfectly ensconced with that; you love hearing those lazy, sloppy cries, and they only seem even more melodic at this volume, at this moment. Fuck, record them and play them as white noise as you sleep.

—changing the colours of the buttons? Ooh! Maybe we could even change the stitching around—

She tilts her head back, and you’re peppering her neck with kisses. She loves it, you know she loves it; all this attention, all this adrenaline, all this carnality she’s invoking—all of it for her. Each time you grunt, she knows that she’s the damn reason for it. Every time your fingers dig into her thigh a little more, she knows it’s because of her. Every kiss on her neck, every inch of her pussy you fill with your rock-hard meat, all of it’s for her. She isn’t vain, nor is she a pick me girl, but she sure as hell knows how to make you treat her like she’s the only girl in the fucking world, and you’re more than happy to give her what she wants.

Because it’s always like this with Sana: if she wants it badly enough, she’ll formulate a stratagem to get it, nip her cravings in the bud before they turn into desires that she can’t control. Mind you, she’s not dissolute; she’s just “riding the highs of life” as she calls it. Pretty bullshit and circumlocutory, but you always let her off the hook.

—the pocket area? That’s my two cents. What do you think darling?

Another moment of silence follows, and Sana seizes the opportunity to nibble on your earlobe. Her leg’s sweaty, slowly slipping from your grasp and trembling from the pleasure that’s giving her voice this lilt when she says: Carry me. Fuck me. Cum in me. Please. Pleasure, coursing through your veins, makes you comply in an almost servile manner. It’s precipitous, even fatuous to pull such a stunt in a fitting room of all places, but when your hands are supporting her by her ass and her legs lock around your waist, there’s no turning back.

And as the man starts going off on his own preferences, Sana’s wrapping her arms around your neck, letting you get a look at those bouncing breasts as you reach new depths inside of those slick, warm walls. If she could cry out, she would, but those damn customers outside are placing her in a box here, and it’s clearly frustrating her. If you were at your place, her hands gripping your sheets and her juices messing up your quilt, she could moan, mewl, cry and cuss however loud she wanted. In a way, it was funny to watch her hold back, but at the same time: you so badly want to make her scream, undo her right here and now and make her a mess in your arms, but you’ll settle for what you have right now. What the two of you have created is controlled chaos, and should it be released past that damn changing room door, God knows what will happen.

Now it’s the store assistant’s turn to speak, and she’s giving them a rundown of the pricings. Outside, they’re talking about the possibility of a discount; inside, Sana’s talking about how deep you feel inside of. Outside, the man’s trying to guilt-trip the store assistant by saying how exorbitant the price is; inside, Sana’s exclaiming and pleading in a hushed voice—Own me. For the love of God, fucking o-own me!—as each thrust you make into her pussy sends her further and further down this rabbit hole of pleasure. It takes guts to fuck in a fitting room, but it takes the guts of Minatozaki Sana to be this needy while fucking in a fitting room. The risks of being caught are high, the risk of being heard even higher, but neither of those affect her ardour. At a controlled volume, she’s pleading for you to fuck her harder, faster, unravel every single bit of her being while she tries to keep herself together. It’s one hell of a show, and it’s one hell of an experience too.

(The sight of her perfect body flushed against yours as she’s fucked in the air, the smell of her sickly sweet perfume, the feeling of that divinely tight pussy wrapped snugly around your shaft like a damned glove, the way those sonorously soft moans filter into your ears. Add these together with the fact that the people outside could hear you at any second, and you’ve got one hell of a recipe for a voyeurist’s wet dream. You’re no voyeurist, but everything about this moment is making you feel like one.

Right now, this is everything to Sana. Having you this close to her, feeling that cool Prada air conditioning against her bare body, listening to you grunt and sigh as you piston yourself in and out of that slick, wet slit… All her needs are being fulfilled, all of her senses heightened and primed, aware of every movement you make inside of her pussy. Sometimes, you feel so good and oh fuck, or maybe even oh god isn’t enough to convey how she feels, so she just opts to let out this strained, strangled gasps that tells you everything you need to know—a maelstrom of emotions and expressions compressed and compacted into one simple “hngh” is enough for you to know that you’re doing something right.)

“You like this Sana?” you find yourself whispering. “You like being fucked like a damn slut with people just outside, don’t you? You like everything about this, don’t you?”

Right now, she doesn’t have that capacity to reply. Of course, you know this, which makes you feel all the more smug as you watch, watching as she slips into a state of complete, utter bliss: her mouth hangs open, her eyes are unfocused, she’s barely holding on to you. The purple mark that your lips have left on her neck sears itself into your sight, and it’s joined by the breathtaking view of her breasts loosely bouncing each time you drive yourself into her. Loose strands of hair are flying, neither of you have any hands free to fix them. Her legs are quaking around your waist, neither of you want to stop just so that she can be back down on the floor. Her eyes are closing, you can feel her heartbeat in her pussy, she’s begging, pleading, fucking imploring you to keep going.

Christ. You want her to moan as loud as she can for you.

It’s hard not to get turned on by the sight of it, and it’s even harder to keep yourself controlled under the rapidly tightening grip of her cunt. Her breaths are shallow, her head is almost completely limp. She may not seem to be aware of it, but you sure as hell are more than cognizant of the fact that the both of you are about to hit that peak that you’ve been chasing for the past God-knows-how-many minutes.

“Sana.” Uttering her name is all that’s needed to bring her back to the real world. When you have her attention, you give her the sentence that she’s been waiting to hear for so damn long: I’m gonna fucking fill you, and It’s like the air gets heavier when she softly whispers, pleads for you to fulfill her new desire; cum with me. I need it so bad.

Controlled orgasm would take strength to pull off, and you silently pray that you have that strength as you send one final thrust between her shaking legs. Your cock twitches, spasms and the first rope of your warm seed that’s sent into her waiting walls is enough to send her over the edge. She bites down on your shoulder, quick enough to muffle the cry that escapes her throat. The tightening of her walls seem to coordinate with each spasm of your cock, and they sync up, working together to get every last drop of cum out of you and into her. She lets a soft moan escape her lips with each spurt, as though welcoming it, as though each one were something she long wanted and needed. You let out a single, soft grunt, as though thanking her, as though every twitch of her walls that sends a shock down your cock is a treasure to be relished.

So the scarf that she brought in to try is no longer just an ornament like the rest of the outfits. Even after adjusting her outfit, the fabric still can't seem to cover that hickey you left on her collarbone. The simple solution: Sana waits there, you buy the scarf, hand it to her, she puts it on and the both of you walk out of the store like nothing happened, like the both of you really were in there to try on some clothes, then leave.

It’s unsuspecting, it’s smooth. The store assistant wishes you a good day, and Sana smiles and waves to her, looking exactly like she did when she entered, plus a scarf. The only difference in Sana’s entrance and exit from the Prada store is the load between her legs.

But that’s a secret for the two of you.

“Hey. Could I talk to you about something?”

In your two years of dating Sana, never have you heard her this nervous in your life. The fact that your client isn’t responding to you a day before his trial plagues you no more, and your laptop is shut before she can close the door.

Your posture—arms crossed atop the desk and back straight—is all she needs. The message is implicit: I’m here, all ears, and she smiles softly as she walks over to the bed. The frame creaks a little as she settles down.

“My uh… My Dad is organising another one of those damned Balls again.” The way she intonates her words tells you that the Ball is the least of her concerns at the moment. “It’s gonna be at the usual time.. Usual place… Not like we can move it anyway.”

You offer her a chuckle to assuage her, diffuse the tension a little. She manages a half-forced giggle at her own joke. Is this a transitional opening? Or is this legitimately the subject of her conversation? you’re thinking, and as you sip from your cup, that subtle shift in her posture is shifting the atmosphere of the room.

She’s scared, but of what?

“I was wondering,” she drums her nails against her knees, “could I… Introduce you to him tomorrow? M-My Dad I mean.”

And now you suddenly understand why she’s on edge. She’s not scared for herself; she’s scared for you. The head of the Minatozaki clan, Sana’s father—you heard much about him, partly because of the stories that Sana tells you and partly from the things you heard through the grapevine at work. In your firm, there’s a whole box dedicated to storing suits that have been opened by him on the intern’s table (it’s a hilariously off-putting thing to say out loud), and from what you’ve heard: there’s another two in the storage room. Personally, you’ve assisted a colleague in one of his lawsuits, and the emails you billed weren’t pretty. You’d be throwing out a fib if you ever couched that you never once thought: It’s a pretty bad first impression of the man, could he maybe… You know… Stop suing people? Please? but you’re not going to let a mere few boxes and one night of reading through emails determine your perception of Sana’s father.

And hopefully, he won’t judge a book by its cover too.

“I have a trial tomorrow Sha,” you remind her, but it’s not like you actually expected her to remember this; you whispered it to her while cuddling on the couch a solid week ago. “I don’t know when I’ll end. It might be a little tight for me.”

It's undeniable that she sighs in relief. The blush that follows the breath is a clear indication. She’s glad, too glad. You can't help but ask: What’s up? Think I’ll flub everything when I meet him?

Sana does that thing where she wants to answer, but doesn’t know how to: her mouth opens, closes, opens again—longer this time, then closes again. It isn’t an easy thing to talk about; what your father will think of your partner is never not a touchy matter. All touchy matters should be discussed in comfort (Sana knows that you strongly believe in this, that’s why she’s situated herself on the bed), and you join her on the mattress.

“WIll he feel that I’m not enough for you?” You’re prodding, all while you gently reach for her hand and grasp it in your own. It’s cold, really cold. You’ll warm it up with your palms, keep them there while she replies, “it’s not that… I know that you’re more than enough for me, that’s what matters to him… At least I think so.”

She’s staring down at her hand, the one that’s slowly heating up via the warmth of your hand. Then what’s making you so worried? you’re asking. She folds her bottom in, past her front teeth. You rub her knuckle with your thumb.

“Yea I… I don’t know what’s making me so worried either,” she finally muses. “Guess I’m just… New to this practice. Never had to do it before...”

Because all the men that have tried to win you over have never lasted for more than a week, you complete in your head, smiling as she lays her other hand over yours. It’s cold too—that won’t do.

And as you set another hand atop hers, she’s asking you for a kiss. Luckily for her, obliging her wants is your specialty, and your lips are quickly travelling that small gap between the two of you. Connection is made, and you physically feel her relax. You know. You know that she belides a truth that she’s not ready to divulge. It’s in her kiss, it’s in her hands, and that’s fine with you. You can infer that it’s not something that’s going to be detrimental to your relationship, and whenever she’s ready to speak about it, you’ll always be available.

Now the kiss is done, she’s asking for fried chicken. You counter-ask if the kiss was to soften you up so that she could ask for her Famichiki. Of course, you get a classic Sana reply: a “maybe”, followed by that mischievous grin. You rise from the bed to grab your coat.

You're glad that the Konbini is just next to your apartment. Sana’s glad that she gets to be close to you as you walk through the snowy street.

“You know,” she’s whispering, “I really won’t mind if you propose to me one of these days.”

You laugh it off, kiss her on her forehead.

In your head: you note to start looking for a nice ring.

Money can get you to places, but it can also get you a private soundproof karaoke room in a club. Three and a half years of dating—that’s all you need to know: you can bet your left kidney that Sana is taking full advantage of that room.

The bottle of Whisky that she opened to get the room is hardly the main event; Sana, slowly slipping out of that tight black dress she’s wearing, foreground to the default music that’s on the TV, has your unwavering attention. The smile on her face could've been mistaken for a sweet one if it weren’t for the fact that she’s getting naked, and the lack of a bra really doesn’t help with her case either.

“There isn’t a time limit to the use of this room, right?” You know the answer to that is no, the lady at the counter told you so. The question is more of a gauge, an instrument that’s helping you assess her plans for the night.

“If you’re trying to know how long we’ll be here for,” she slings her dress onto the couch next to you, and in her stockings and panties, saunters over with a sultry sway in her hips, “my answer is a secret.”

“I have work tomorrow, Sana.”

“Too bad. Call in sick.”

She picks up the glass of Whisky, raises it to her lips. When she drinks, she lets some of that amber liquid trickle out past her lips, down past her chin and onto her tits. In the light, her wet skin glistens and shimmers, and you once again find yourself in absolute awe with the woman before you. And as she straddles you, glass in hand, the way she uses her fingers to tilt your face up to the light tells you that she’s in control. She takes a sip of the amber liquid, swallows it, then brings it to your lips.

“Be a good boy,” she’s tipping the glass as she speaks, a strong way to convey that there’s no room for disobedience, “say ‘ahh’ for me baby.”

The glass is cold against your lips, the liquor even colder on your tongue as it flows into your mouth at a manageable rate. When she stops pouring, you take the cue, and you swallow all of it in one gulp. The burn in your throat is oddly rewarding, probably because Sana’s smiling down at you, stroking your hair and telling you how obedient you are as you swallow. Then she makes you open your mouth again, pours another portion down the hatch.

How does it taste, she’s asking, cupping your right cheek as she swirls the glass. You give her a short honest review of it: It’s good. The answer pleases her, and she sets down the glass in her hand to pick up the bottle from the table next to you.

“Yamazaki, 12 year old single Malt.” She’s letting you see the bottle under the light, though you have to admit that her tits right next to the bottle are a horrible distraction. “My personal favourite.”

She unscrews the cap and takes a swig straight from the bottle, swallows it without even flinching. She’s always been able to hold her alcohol well, and you know for a fact that she can probably outdrink 5 of your colleagues and maybe, just maybe, your boss too. But you’ll never have a fair gauge on how well she can drink in comparison to your peers; she only drinks around you.

Your face is back in her hand, and she’s got some more things to say—Drink it neat, on the rocks, add it to another drink, it tastes great no matter what—as she starts to lightly grind herself over your throbbing shaft in your pants. But you know what the best way to drink it is, she asks you. She’s not looking for an answer from you, just finding a way to transition from the Whisky to whatever it is she has in mind—you can tell because she leans down to capture lips right after she throws out the inquiry, kissing you deeply, her tongue playing aggressively on your lips before searching your mouth for its counterpart. The smell of Whisky is so damn strong on her breath, and the only thing hotter than the burning sensation in your throat is the fact that she’s using one hand to play with herself, the bottle of Whisky in the other. You can hear it slosh next to your ear as she raises it.

And as she breaks the kiss, the thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you doesn’t stop her from providing the answer to her question—it tastes the best when you drink it right off my body—as she straightens herself. The next second, still playing with herself, she’s bringing the bottle to her lips, tipping it just before it touches those red-tinted lips to let the golden liquid flow down her chest and breasts. There's no time to admire; you reach out and catch the rapidly falling liquid, your tongue pressed tightly to her skin to lap up as much of the bitter liquor as you could. Her skin glistens with the Whisky on it. It looks like gold in the snow. She smells like lavender and lust.

Your tongue, saturated with Whisky, finds and captures her left nipple. You close your lips around it, suckling deeply from her chest, enjoying the taste of her body and the liquor that made it spicy and bitter. Sana gasps and moans as you have your way with her chest, fondling her small mounds, suckling both of her taut nipples—roughly, hungrily. You could say that she’s wasted some perfectly good Whisky, but you say that she’s added complex flavours to an already exquisite meal. The blend of alcohol and Sana’s skin is not something you never knew you needed, but now you do. The novelty of it, the sheer lust she’s emanating, all of it makes her tits taste better than ever, and you find yourself leaving marks on her cleavage, the right side of her left breast, the left side of her right breast; every centimetre of skin that can be reached is marked and tasted—your attempt at dipping your toes in a little control in this karaoke room that is Sana’s domain.

Maybe you’re a little over-indulgent in her, maybe you’re just unaware, but you certainly can’t feel her slipping your tie off your neck. By the time you’re aware of the sudden feeling of freedom at your throat, she’s already wrapping your wrists, securing them together with an intricate knot. You know damn well that even the boy scouts couldn’t untie this one, even if they sent their best member. The theory is only enforced when Sana asks you to try pulling your wrists apart, and it feels like they’ve been superglued together. Satisfied, she feeds you some more Whisky off her body, then it’s time for her fun.

Palm flat against your chest, eyes flaring, wicked smile; Sana pushed you back against the couch with graceful authority—something that only she is capable of. Then it’s onto your shirt, and he’s unbuttoning it with practised dexterity: unfastening, pulling—motions so fast that she has your reverence for mastering the art. She takes a moment, parts the fabric covering your chest and runs a fingernail down the centre of your torso. The nail—painted black with little Sakura flowers adorning it—stops at your belt. It isn’t hesitance that keeps her finger there; it’s the innate cheekiness that makes her linger there a little longer, that makes her smile softly as the other hand joins in and starts undoing the clasp of your belt. Not a word is uttered as she pulls apart your belt, then goes straight for the buckle of your belt.

Then it’s back to kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing. Sloppy, passionate kissing as she runs her fingers through your hair. The Whisky on both of your breaths mingle. Admittedly, you’re feeling a little floaty, engendering a pleasant tingle on your skin as she starts placing kisses on your cheek, then on your jaw. Next thing you know, she’s sucking hard at the nape of your neck, marking you with those lovely lips, as if she’s placing a wax seal on you, declaring: you are mine and mine alone. And when she successfully sears the shape of her lips onto your skin, she traces the slick outline with a finger, whispers softly, You have no idea how much I want to own you right now.

The excitement is palpable, the tension even more so. She’s whispering all sorts of things to you—most of them entailing what she’s about to do with your cock—all while she starts to slip your briefs off of your legs. Your cock springs out of your pants, slaps against her ass and twitches on the rotund flesh. The smile grows wider, devilish dimples appear. And for the record: no, she’s not gonna blow you. She’s gonna make herself cum before anything else happens, and she’s going to make you feel things you’ve never felt before.

She slides off you, gets back up on her feet. With her back turned to you, she bends forward at the waist, shaking her ass while she uses her thumbs to hook onto the waistband of her panties. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. She looks over her shoulder, eyes locked on yours. With a little hop, she pushes the fabric down and off her hips, kicking it to the side. Her pussy glistens in the light, flushed pink and folds tantalising as ever puffy and swollen with excitement.

She bends her knees, getting down on all fours.

She wiggles her ass at you, looking back at you over her shoulder.

“Bet you wished,” she gets on her back, spreads her legs to get the spotlight on her slit, “that you could absolutely own me like this right now, don’t you?”

She’s so cocksure. It’s driving you crazy. You swallow, your voice barely audible as you utter her name. She crawls to you, sits up, her face in front of yours, so close, so hot. Her hand touches the back of your head, her voice barely a whisper as she grips the base of your cock—but you can’t, and it’s so damn frustrating, isn’t it?—and rubs your tip between her dripping folds, lathering her juices all over your head and smiling all the way through.

And when you least expect it, she turns and sinks down on your cock.

You throw your head back, groan, the sound of her wetness as she takes your cock into her pussy loud and clear over the music. Your head falls forward again, watching her sink further and further, taking more and more of your cock inside her with every passing moment as she lets a long, drawn-out moan float through the air. When her crotch meets yours and you are fully embedded inside her, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure that leaves open lips. You meet it with a sigh of your own, somehow tearing open your own shut eyes to watch the expression on her beautiful face as you fill her.

Christ, fuck and god—just some of the words that you want to cry out as she starts to slowly grind herself against you. The ride she’s about to take is one that’s of perverse nature; it’s not going to be a slow, pleasant ride. Naturally, her habit of jumping straight into things leaves her unprepared for what she’s about to experience, so now she has to slowly slowly adjust to your size, like striking the flint over and over next to the fireplace as you hope to get a flame going. Usually, this would be a time where you’d caress that beautiful body, run your hands over that unblemished white skin and pepper kisses all over the places that she loves to be kissed. But she’s not in the mood for that, not when she has this room and you at her disposal.

Then the fire ignites, and it is merciless, a force of nature—untameable, unrelenting. In your bonds you are unable to resist. You never would’ve in the first place. She begins to move, her pussy tight and slick around your cock. She rides you like she was made to do this, like a pro. She rides you fiercely, roughly, taking you in and out of her tight wet heat, caring little for your comfort or much of anything aside from stuffing herself over and over with thick, hard meat. Throughout it all she is digging into your thigh, crying out like her life depends on it as she goes up, down, up, down—a lewd seat on a merry go round.

Yes, yes, yes—she throws her head back, auburn hair flying like streamers in the wind as she has her way with you—o-oh fuck I need this! I need this so fucking bad! The rhythmic, repetitive motion, her unbridled desire to be filled, it sends you reeling. The pressure on your leg is forgotten, the slight discomfort in your arms pushed out of the way. You can do nothing but watch her ride you. You can do nothing but marvel at how good you feel inside her, how the tightness of her pussy massages your shaft, how the way she takes you so completely into her folds, how you stretch her and make her quiver and quake.

A part of you wishes the mirror were visible from your current position, so that you could watch as Sana impales herself over and over on your cock. You want to watch the expression of pleasure wrangle her cute features, want to watch her full, round breasts bounce up and down, want to watch every muscle of her long, perfectly shaped legs work to throw her body again and again against your cock. But you’ll have to content yourself with the almost equally alluring view of her sweaty back (not that it was a particularly difficult position to enjoy. How could you call it “bad” with the view of her round, full ass as she slams it down against your crotch?). It’s not like you can change anything about this anyway. No—the only thing you can do is sit back, watch, and savour how her ass jiggles as it crashes against your crotch.

Oh fuck, oh yes! I’m so fucking full! I’m so stuffed with this cock!

You lose yourself to the sound of her voice, the feeling of her pussy as it swallows up your cock, the sight of her back arching and her hands shaking. As much as you try, you find yourself unable to move, as though your own pleasure has been drained out of your body, and you are just an observer. You watch as she pushes herself down further on your cock, impaling herself with every thrust of her hips, her voice growing louder and louder as she gets into that dangerous rhythm, the rhythm that makes you think she’s on Acid. Well-formed breasts bounce, you see them past her slender figure. Her shapely, luscious ass ripples. Long legs work overtime, cooperating with the stamina of the girl who is using them to drive herself over the edge like it’s her be-all and end-all. It’s exhilarating. It’s thrilling.

It’s so fucking hot.

Oh god. You’re stretching me out so good. This cock feels so damn good!

Two things are getting you at the moment: (1) The sweat glistening that’s building up on her back. (2) The fact that she’s pushing your thighs apart to get more of you inside her. The former sight is a breathtaking process really: beady moisture on that well built back, pooling at all the best places and making her skin glow as some of it slowly trickles down her spine. The latter’s no grain of sand either mind you, maybe even hotter than Sana’s sweaty back if you dare say. Freshly done nails sit just outside the insides of your thighs, the palms that they’re connected to pushing down against the flesh beneath them. They’re indenting the muscles of your thighs, it’s uncomfortable, but only for a second at a time.

I don’t wanna stop. I don’t wanna fucking stop!

In your restraints, your hands grasp at the flesh that’s so close yet so far, the skin that’s rippling and slapping against yours. Her ass taunts you, tempts you, teases you. It’s so frustrating yet so erotic; you aren’t sure if you should welcome this mix of emotions or reject it before it folds its wings and nestles itself in your chest. The mix of desire and vexation, exasperation and ecstasy—any two emotions that shouldn’t go together are mixing, blending, forming these bubbles in your chest that you can’t explain.

One woman; innumerable sensations.

You need more. More of everything. More of her.

You wish you could touch her.

You wish you could fuck her.

But all you can do is watch, watch as she starts going down harder, crying out even louder.

Her body, so flawlessly feminine, is in deadly motion, working you over from the inside like you’ve never experienced. The air is filled with the wet, lewd sounds of her pussy sucking you in your hips slapping against her ass, her moans and groans, her curses that seem to go on perennially, blending in perfectly with that shitty synth in the background.

And you’re just along for the ride.

You have no idea… How good this is.. Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

And she wants you to see it, she wants you to watch her—it is exactly that kind of attention that she is basking in. So you watch. You watch her, the way she looks back at you, the way her eyes flare as she takes you in, the way her hands claw at your leg. The way she's moaning with that lilt back in her voice. Everything about this spectacle seems like it’s been scripted for some porno, and her body is certainly making you feel like you’re in one. The only grasp on reality that this situation offers is… Well, nothing. And it’s not that there really isn’t anything for you to root yourself in this real world, rather you’re choosing not to make that mental effort to do so; every little corner of your mind is being bled with whatever colour the image of Sana bouncing on your cock is. There’s no room for reality, and it's addicting, enthralling.

Fuck. You can't get enough of her, and you probably never will.

So deep! So fucking… Oh my god!

Your breath is ragged, and it takes every bit of control you have left in you to not cum right then and there. It takes every ounce of focus not to simply give in to her, not to simply melt into the couch, not to lose your mind to the sensation of her tight, wet slick as it swallows you in, pushes you out; fucking itself over and over and over again on your rock hard shaft. You don't know how much longer you can hold out for, and as if she can tell, Sana starts to move faster, her movements getting even more aggressive. The slaps of her ass against your crotch are louder now, and the wet smacking sound of her pussy's getting faster and faster. Her fingers are digging into your leg, her moans more frequent and more desperate. You can feel her tightening around you, the way her walls clamp down, the way her legs are trembling, the way her voice is going up in pitch.

(It’s the moments of privacy that really get her going; the moments where she can scream and cuss and moan like there’s no tomorrow are everything to her.

Yes, she likes fucking in public spaces for the thrill of it, but she likes it better when she can hold you freely as you fill her, not having to care for the fact that the way her body’s positioned engenders any discomfort or risk of being heard.

Yes, she likes it when there’s the chance that someone can walk in on the two of you, but the prospect of being able to own your cock, uninterrupted and unheard, thrills her like nothing else in the damn world.

Yes, she likes to see if she can hold in her cries while you’re rearranging her insides in a bathroom stall, but she prefers it much more when she can slam herself down on your cock—be loud and be proud of the fact that she loves every inch of meat that fills her till she can barely breathe.

Bottom line: she likes chasing that thrill of being caught, but she loves those moments where she’s alone with you in private even more. Now is one of those times, and God… She’s barely herself anymore.

She is a storm of pure, unfiltered lust. And you must say: it’s fucking sublime.)

Then the game changing sentence comes from her, and it's beautiful.

"I'm fucking cumming!"

The words ring out, clear and loud. And she doesn't stop; she keeps riding you, taking you into her wet hole and milking your cock, using you to bring herself off. It's not until the final second that she slows down, her back arching as she lets out the most satisfying scream that you have ever heard in your entire life. It is all that you can do to watch as she slumps forward, breaths ragged and body twitching as you hold yourself back. It takes everything—every fibre, every cell and every last bit of will—to not cum in her right there and then. And when the final spasm has passed and the shuddering has subsided, when Sana has collapsed against you, your cock still buried inside her, she turns to you.

There are no words spoken, just a mutual understanding of what comes next. She slips off the couch, takes your slick shaft in her hands. A few pumps are delivered, and they’re considerate and slow; she’s good at building tension.

“You’ve already marked my tits. Might as well cum on them.” She’s still got some cheekiness left in her, and that smile is really doing everything for you.

“Fuck, Sana, I—” “Do it. Paint me.”

You feel the semen gather in your balls before coursing up your shaft and erupting from its tip, landing in thick, wet, warm ropes upon Sana’s creamy skin. Your tip is directed between her cleavage, and the first spurt of cum shoots itself between those wonderful mounds. It’s quickly followed by a second rope, and the third lands on her upper chest. With grace, she manages to direct your spurting cock by the base so the fourth and fifth ropes cover the front of her tits, then the rest don’t matter anymore.

The last ropes of thick, warm semen land upon her face, staining her soft, blushing features with creamy white cum. Some of it lands on her cheeks, on her forehead and onto her open mouth and the thirsty tongue within it. When you finally open eyes you hadn’t known had closed, the picture of Minatozaki Sana, face and chest painted with your warm, thick cum, is one you never want to forget. And as she scoops up your seed with her fingers, she’s got a thing or two to say.

“Excellent load,” she whispers, watching as the cum slithers down her palm. “Plus two to you.”

Just two? Is your reply of false bewilderment. Sana chortles.

Maybe if you can give me a load up my ass, I’ll consider adding another three points.

Now the ring’s oddly heavy in your pocket.

Sana’s father seems more imposing than he should for a man his size, and looking at the Yamazaki bottle on the desk, you can tell that Sana gets her liking for Whisky from him.

“I’ve never met you in my life,” he begins, “and now you come here like a friend, asking for my daughter’s hand in marriage?”

Sana’s head is bowed. In the corner of the office she sits, hands clasped over one another as she listens in silently. No amount of trials or oral submissions could ever prepare you for this tension.

“Mr Minatozaki… I understand that all of this is sudden,” you begin, but you’re interrupted by a raised hand.

“You know boy… You sure do talk like you know everything about the situation.” His voice is nowhere near threatening as he speaks, and it’s absolutely terrifying. “For a lawyer, you sure do sound quite the fool. Guess I shouldn’t have been expecting much considering your background.”

And it’s that very statement that has you on tenterhooks. You’ve never met him, never even seen his face, yet he knows your occupation which you never even touched on, and from the sound of it, knows what went down in your family. Sana’s head snaps up, her eyes wide as she watches her father produce a file from under his desk.

“It’s not the suddenness,” the air quotations he uses hold more weight than they really should, “that doesn’t sit well with me dear boy. No, no… It’s more than that.”

The broad leather chair in his office grows constricting. As he rises from his seat, the foam that holds your butt up seems to depress. And as he begins—if you sauntered in here as just a lawyer, I would’ve let you take my daughter in a heartbeat!—his explanation of what’s grinding his gears, you start feeling uneasy. For context on the severity of this feeling: the last time you felt like this was when you first met his daughter.

But you’re not just a lawyer—he’s opening the file in his hands, flipping through its contents—you’re a disgrace to this very world. You shouldn’t even be in this damn house right now.

Into the file his hand reaches, and out from it: two mugshots. You bristle; Sana gasps (and it’s not that she didn’t know, rather because she was shocked that her father knew.)

So it’s the next sentence that seals your fate. Frankly, you kind of expected it, but it still doesn’t take away from the sheer bedlam that goes down in your head when Mr Minatozaki waves the mugshots of your parents before your face and shrieks at the top of his lungs.

This isn’t the way you pictured this going.

Honestly, you never pictured this happening at all.

“Do you seriously think for a second that I’d let the son of two druggies—two disgraceful, repugnant, filthy, druggies—marry my daughter?”

It’s hard to forget what she told you over the phone after your talk with her father (if you can even call it that): we’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out.

Money can get you a nice fancy Ball, some nice Whisky and a private Karaoke room. Naturally, it can grant you a means to keep the son of two convicted drug abusers that hung themselves in their cells away from your daughter.

So not even 12 hours after that fate-sealing conversation did you get a phone call from your boss. Next thing you know, you’re uprooted from your workplace in Osaka, transferred to the branch in Nagoya; Sana’s number mysteriously changes itself, none of your letters ever reach her.

It’s over the payphone, months after all of this, that Sana finally reaches you, and she’s ugly crying over the phone.

We can fix this, we’ll figure something out. We’ll figure this out. I promise you, we’ll figure this out.

In a way, she ended up being right.

And in your suit, you smile as you watch her walk down the aisle. She’s beautiful as ever, and you feel like that white veil over her face is doing her the biggest disservice ever. The little boy carrying the wedding rings seems a little confused, but it only adds to his adorable aura as he stumbles behind Sana. The flower petals are being scattered, the crowd’s on their feet. They’re clapping; you’re crying. Have you mentioned that she looks beautiful?

Oh? You have? Odd…

But just in case it slips your mind, you tell her how beautiful she is in your head, all while she walks right past you and continues to the stage. It feels like the ring boy’s acting stupid to taunt you for being the fool here.

In a way, she ended up being right. If “We” referred to Sana’s father and that man on the stage, “We” did indeed end up figuring things out. The invite broke you, and this wedding is breaking you even more. You know that this invite wasn’t sent by Sana—she isn’t cruel. This has the fingerprints of her father all over it: the seat close to the aisle, your wristband to authorise your access to the venue holding the same serial code as your father’s prisoner ID… All of it is him.

But there’s not much you can do about it is there? You chose to come, you chose this for yourself. There was the option to not come, to tear the invite up and go cry in your apartment in Nagoya, but you bought the Shinkansen ticket here, didn’t you? You walked through the doors of this damn place and took your seat, didn’t you?

And the Yamazaki doesn’t taste as good as it should, and the Spring air is sharper than it should be at the afterparty. They’re over there, congratulating the newly weds and wishing them all the best; you’re over here, sipping on your neat Whisky behind a bush as the music roars on.

It really shouldn’t be a question on how she finds you; she knows you too well to know where you’d go at a place like this. And in her wedding gown, she stands where she is, this look of a god-knows-what mix of emotions simmering on her face. You rub your nose with a thumb, sip on the bitter Whisky as your remedy. No words are spoken, not even a “hey” or “how have you been”—both of you know that there’s no use in starting a conversation here. It’ll go sob, fast, and this isn’t the place for it.

There will never be a place for it.

So why not substitute words with actions?

So in her bare feet, she hikes up her gown, runs over to you, lunges to close those years of separation between you two to hug you like she used to. The Whisky is knocked out of your hands; you’re knocked off your feet. And in the grass, she buries her head into your shoulder and weeps.

You always thought that only death would make you cry, but now as you hold her for what may very well be the last time, you realise: you're not as tough as you think.

Like a Lemon, the realisation that comes is bitter, and it has you bawling.

Cause maybe in a world that wasn’t so cruel, you could’ve been the one on that stage.

(Then the two of you could be in love, happier than ever.)

#minatozaki sana #twice smut #sana smut #kpop #fanfic #writing #smut

982 notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 2 months

Note

Part 1 was fab, thanks so much darling, so why not a part 2? Alright so months later Y/N (me) is on her spring break vacation and she somehow manages to convince Elijah and Klaus to take her on a yacht. Rebekah had bragged to Kol and his brothers also hinted at what happened previously with Y/N so then he says he wanted to join too. Kol and Y/N have fun skinny dipping in the ocean and when it lands on the island, it’s quite literally a fuckfest. So it’s 3 brothers x Y/N although I want to make this one a reader insert if that’s okay. {kinks: cock choking/gagging, tit fucking, overstimulation fucking, lots of degradation, little praise, ass play, squirting, double penetration, and messy/sloppy sex (idk if that’s a kink tbh)}.

Magnificent

Did I spend a long time on google trying to find an image of them together? yes

Did I give up? also yes... So instead... here are three pictures of them in the sun...

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Just a quick little ménage à quatre with Klaus, Elijah and Kol... on spring break...

♡♡ Thanks for the request darling Aurora... this was such an insane challenge and I loved every minute of it. I personally wouldn't survive this, but it was fun to write! ♡♡

8.8k words - Warnings: this is by far the wildest thing I've ever written, smut smut and more smut, my Elijah bias coming in hot... dom!Mikaelsons, blowjobs, oral sex, rim job (f!receiving), gagging, overstimulation, choking, squirting, anal, dp, beach sex, yacht sex.... it really is a fuckfest. So much cum, a ton of dirty talk, sir kink, daddy kink, lots of degradation and praise... probably missing something, but you get the gist.. it's extremely horny... so strap in and enjoy...

You stretched out on the sofa at the Mikaelson compound, phone in hand, browsing through social media. You let out a heavy sigh as you scrolled through your friend's photos on vacation, posted only a few hours ago. You were happy for them, really. You just wished you had fun things to do too. It was spring break and you had no plans, Rebekah was supposed to be here, the two of you planned to spend the week together. But she ditched you to go to Mystic Falls to go see some guy named Matt who didn't even seem very interesting.

Elijah walked in, lifting your legs so he could sit on the sofa. He set your legs down on his lap, and you continued to browse your phone, noticing another picture of a girl in a bikini, holding a margarita, in front of the ocean.

You let out a huff, closing the app, and dropping the phone on to your chest.

"What is the matter?" Elijah asked, placing a hand on your shin, caressing you gently.

"Everyone is having fun on their spring breaks, except me. I don't have any plans," you complained, staring up at the ceiling.

"Why don't we go on the yacht for a few days?" Elijah suggested, a smile forming on his lips.

"You have a yacht?" You asked, sitting up on the sofa, resting your back against the armrest.

"Of course we do darling," said Klaus, who just entered the room, standing behind the sofa, putting his hands on the backrest and looking down at you.

You gave him a wide smile and then glanced at Elijah, their proximity reminding you of a certain memory. Your cheeks flushed as you remembered the way they had both fucked you senseless. You bit your lower lip, as your eyes traveled from Elijah's eyes, down to his lips.

After your ménage with Rebekah and the boys you had come back for more from Elijah. The two of you had a series of secret rendezvous, whenever the rest of the family were away. Elijah had a way of making you feel so good, and when things got really heated he made you call him something special. Something only the two of you shared.

"Sunshine, endless sands, alcohol, good music, the sea... What more do you need?" Klaus said, smirking when he caught the look on your face, breaking you out of your dirty thoughts.

"That all sounds wonderful... What else is going to happen there?" You asked, as Elijah ran a finger up your shin, his hand traveling up to your bare thigh.

"Whatever you desire," Elijah said, giving you a knowing smirk.

"Can we bring Kol?" You asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

They both looked surprised and a little annoyed, it amused you to see their expressions.

"Why?" Klaus asked, his lips pursed, and brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Why not?" You shrugged. "We are just going to have fun. And besides... He's always being left out," you said, trying to be as neutral as possible, looking at both men as you said this, trying to read their reactions.

Elijah just looked at you, trying to hide the jealousy, but his face was giving everything away. Ever since you hooked up with them, you realized how much power you held over them. They would literally do anything you asked. Of course you would never take advantage of that power... At least not very much... You just wanted to be able to have a little bit of fun and spice things up with the three men, and it wasn't going to work without Kol.

"Kol can be... Insatiable," Elijah warned, giving you a knowing look.

"Kol behaves like a horny teenager, love. Don't you want this to be a classy affair?" Klaus added, his gaze moving over your body.

"Please?" You asked, looking at them with wide, innocent eyes, a teasing smile on your lips.

"Very well, if you wish for Kol to come, he can come. Just try to keep him under control," Elijah said, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

Klaus groaned and bowed his head in defeat, running his fingers through his hair.

You beamed, hopping on Elijah's lap, straddling his hips. "So when can we leave?" you asked, your eyes lighting up in anticipation.

Elijah grabbed your ass with both hands, kneading your cheeks, "we can go tonight."

You cupped his face, "oh I can't wait! It's going to be so much fun," you exclaimed, pressing a quick peck to Elijah's lips and then jumping off his lap and heading to pack, getting ready for your little adventure with your three favorite guys.

The yacht was extravagant to say the least, meticulously decorated and very well kept. You were in your private quarters, unpacking your various bikinis, deciding on what to wear to go sunbathe. You felt two hands grab you from behind and turned your head, seeing Kol smirking at you.

"I don't know how you did it but thank you," he whispered in your ear, pressing a kiss to the shell of it.

You leaned against him, humming, closing your eyes. He squeezed your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder, taking a look at the bikinis that you had sprawled on the bed.

"Oh, this one's nice," he said, grabbing one of the pieces of cloth, "but I'd like it better on my floor," he chuckled.

You chuckled too, "why am I not surprised?" you said, grabbing it from him.

He gave you a kiss on the cheek and let you go. He laid down on the bed, stretching like a lazy cat. You decided on one of your new bikinis and headed to the bathroom to change into it.

Kol sat up and watched you walk away, "why aren't you changing in here? There's plenty of space," he said, scooting back on the bed, making room for you.

"What gave you the impression I would do that?" you teased.

Kol gave you an offended look, placing a hand on his heart. You shook your head and closed the door, getting changed quickly, and returning to your room. You sat on the bed next to him and pulled out your tanning lotion from your suitcase, taking the time to lather your arms and legs in it. Kol's eyes followed your movements, watching your fingers trail along your skin. You glanced at him and smiled when you saw him lick his lips as you put more lotion on your hand and applied it on your chest.

He reached over and took the lotion from your hands and gestured for you to get on his lap. You turned and sat sideways, your legs dangling off the bed. He massaged your shoulders, then moved to your arms and your back. You let your head fall back against his shoulder as his hands traveled along your body.

"I heard this rumor," he whispered, his breath warm on your ear, "about you having a bit of fun with my siblings," he said, as he slipped his hand under the hem of your bikini bottom and squeezed your butt cheek, "and me being left out," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your neck.

You turned to face him, "who told you that?"

He gave you a smug smile, "let's just say, someone has been doing a little bit of gossiping about what happens in the compound."

Your eyes widened when you realized what he meant, "Rebekah!" You gasped. "Well... Now she's the one who's being left out," you giggled.

Kol hummed in approval, his lips forming into a lopsided smile, his eyes wandering your face and neck, lingering on your chest. His gaze traveled to your cleavage, as you pressed your boobs together.

"So what you are saying is that it's true? Rebekah, Klaus and Elijah. How was that?" He asked, looking at your eyes again.

You blushed and averted your gaze, "good," you whispered, feeling his cock twitch underneath you. You laughed softly and swatted his arm, "why does that excite you so much?" You teased.

"Don't judge me, darling. You are just so damn beautiful, I thought you were all innocent and shy. I'm dying to hear you describe what they did to you... Tell me about it."

You smiled mischievously, moving to straddle his hips, "well... Rebekah and I touched each other while the guys were watching us..."

"God, that's so hot," he breathed out, running his hands up and down your thighs.

"Then they all took turns fucking me," you whispered, kissing along his jaw.

Kol's grip on your thigh tightened, "fuck, I would've loved to see that."

"I've been thinking about it ever since," you confessed, your eyes dark with lust, "and I'm not sure I had enough," you whispered, nipping at his earlobe, tugging at it.

"Do you think Klaus and Elijah would want to share you with me, sweetheart?" He asked, his voice deep and husky.

You bit your lower lip, grinding your ass on his cock, making him moan. "It's not up to them," you said, kissing him softly, "I decide who gets to fuck me," you murmured against his lips, grabbing his hands and moving them on your breasts, making him squeeze them, "and right now, I'd like it to be you," you purred.

You looked into his eyes, his hunger for you was palpable. You kissed down his chest, scooting back until your knees touched the floor. You pulled his swim trunks down. His erect cock sprung free. You stroked him slowly, watching the precum spilling out of his tip.

You looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, placing your lips on the head of his cock, licking his slit. His fingers threaded through your hair as you took him in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the head, taking him in inch by inch, until you reached his base.

"That's it, darling, just like that," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening.

You hummed around him, bobbing your head up and down, sucking him hard, moaning at the taste of him. He rolled his hips, thrusting up into your mouth. You knew he was close, so you withdrew, smiling at him as he gave you a confused look.

"What are you doing darling?"

You stuck your tongue out, sliding the wide part of your tongue up and down his shaft. "I don't want you to cum just yet, I want you to fuck my mouth," you said, licking the underside of his cock, your eyes never leaving his.

"Oh, fuck, you are a dirty little thing, aren't you, darling?" He whispered, as he cupped your jaw with his hand.

"Mhm," you moaned, taking his tip in your mouth, sucking it gently, and looking at him, waiting for him to make a move.

He smirked, holding your hair, and pushing your head down untill your nose was pressed against his groin. You hummed, looking up at him, and relaxing your throat, letting him use your mouth. He began thrusting into your mouth, and you reached for his balls, squeezing them gently.

"Good girl. If only you could see yourself right now. Your lips stretched around my cock-"

"It's quite a sight," said the deep voice of Elijah, he was leaning in the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. Klaus was standing behind him, amusement flashing in his eyes.

You pulled off of Kol and looked at them, blushing furiously. "Hi," you said in a small, raspy voice, wiping off the spit from your chin.

"Hello sweetheart," Klaus said, walking over to the bed. He brought his hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks.

"Aww look at your flushed little face," said Kol, pinching your cheek with his thumb and forefinger, smirking at you. "Why are you shy all of a sudden?" He teased, chuckling.

All three of them were towering over you and you had to crane your neck up to look at them. You were so wet from the sight, the three of them in only their swim trunks, exposing their toned chests, muscles bulging. You just wanted to jump in bed and have them take turns with you.

You shuffled a bit on your knees so you were between all three of them. They were looking down at you expectantly, Elijah ran his fingers through your hair, caressing your cheek with his thumb. All three pairs of eyes were glued to you, hooded and half closed. Your gaze was traveling from one perfect body to another. You could see their erections growing underneath the tight fabric of their swim trunks.

Kol stood up, his hard cock dangling next to your head. You circled it with your hand, gently stroking him, and looking up at him with pleading eyes. You didn't care which one of them it would be, as long as they were all going to fuck you.

You opened your mouth, waiting for one of them to fill it with his cock, Kol, who was the closest, was the first one to do it. You took his cock in your mouth again, bobbing your head, and looking up at him.

You reached out with your other hand and pulled Elijah closer by the waistband of his shorts, touching his hard on through the fabric. His breathing got heavier and he smiled, helping you free him from his confinement, hissing when you wrapped your hand around him.

You looked up at Klaus, a lustful look on your face. He gave you an amused smirk, shaking his head in disbelief, taking his time to observe you, clearly enjoying the way you begged him for his cock without even using words.

You batted your lashes at him, and he obliged, taking himself in hand, giving it a few strokes and stepping closer to you.

You pulled off of Kol, with a loud 'pop' and turned your head slightly to lick and nip Klaus's cock, all while pumping your hands up and down their lengths. They were groaning, pulling you closer, pressing against your face, leaking for you.

"Get it nice and wet for me love," Klaus said, the smirk still playing on his lips, "show me how thankful you are for this little vacation," he taunted you, "be a good girl for us."

You hummed, eagerly taking him in your mouth, sucking him hard. You took Elijah and Kol in your hands, and stroked them simultaneously, the sounds of their moans made your pussy throb.

"I don't think good girls do this, Nik," Kol said, tilting his head and grinning down at you.

Klaus moved his hips, slowly pushing himself deeper into your mouth. He released a breathy moan, watching you swallow his cock, flattening your tongue along the underside of his shaft. You swirled your tongue around him. He tangled his hand in your hair, his eyes closed, mouth parted in a low grunt.

"What a good little whore, taking all of me in," he praised, rolling his hips, thrusting shallowly in your mouth.

You moaned at his dirty words, making Kol chuckle, "I think she likes when you call her that, brother."

Klaus smirked, pulling his length out and gave you cheek a little slap with his cock, "Mhm... She does, doesn't she? "

He entered your mouth again, shoving his cock down your throat, holding your face in place. You gagged, letting out a muffled whimper as he pressed your face into his groin. Klaus's mouth fell open, and he let out a moan that was so low and guttural that it made you almost cum. He rocked his hips, fucking your mouth so deeply, watching tears forming in the corners of your eyes.

You tried to keep the pace with your hands on Elijah and Kol's cocks, but you were unable to concentrate. Your legs were trembling, wetness pooling between your legs.

Klaus held your face between his strong hands, still buried deep in your throat, using you like a doll, "good slut," he said in a strained, breathy voice, thrusting into you a few more times and releasing your face.

You almost fell forward, catching your breath, gasping for air. A trail of spit dribbled down your chin. You blinked a couple of times, looking up at the three men, their hungry, lustful eyes boring into yours.

"Finish me off and then do Kol," Klaus ordered, grabbing you by the hair.

You kept your eyes on him as you gave him a couple of long and slow licks. You brought your hand up to his pulsing shaft, rubbing your thumb against the leaking tip of his cock. He threw his head back, grunting, his hips bucking. You took the tip of him in your mouth, your head bobbing up and down, sucking him quickly and moving your hand in quick motions.

"Yeah... Yeah, just like that, sweetheart," he groaned, slapping your hand away, and thrusting into your mouth a few more times, before pulling out and releasing his load on your face.

Kol and Elijah looked down at you, pride flaring in their eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Clean the mess up," Klaus grunted, smearing his cock across your lips.

You lapped up the cum from his cock, humming in pleasure. He watched you intently as you swallowed and then smiled.

Elijah and Kol were pumping themselves, groaning, waiting for their turn. The view of them, hard and aching for you, their muscles flexing and their mouths parted, was so fucking hot. You felt so powerful, having all three of them so worked up and turned on.

“What a filthy little pet," Elijah said, still stroking his length leisurely.

Klaus moved away, sitting on the bed to watch the show. You pivoted on your knees to face Kol. He had a predatory smile on his face, "shall I do you in the same fashion my other brother did, or would you prefer something different?" He asked, his eyes darting to your cleavage for a split second.

His hands went to your throat, lifting your face up to meet his gaze, his other hand coming up to your face, caressing your cheekbone. He dipped his head and kissed your breasts, hooking his fingers inside the fabric and yanking it down. He sucked one of your tits in his mouth, nibbling, and biting until you winced.

"God, you are gorgeous," he said, pinching a nipple roughly, swiping his tongue around the other, moaning around it.

You were so aroused, being at the mercy of the three of them. Each of them dominating you in their own manner. You were so excited that you were trembling in anticipation.

You gasped as Kol grabbed a fist full of your hair, guiding you crouch in front of him so your breasts were in line with his hard length, "open," he said, his tone harsher than before. You opened up and he started to shallowly fuck your mouth.

"Press your tits around it," he ordered, slowing his thrusts down. You pressed your tits around his cock, swirling your tongue around the head, tasting his precum. His head rolled back and he let out a deep groan, slowly fucking the valley of your breasts.

"Fuck that feels amazing," he moaned, making sure his length was sliding between your breasts as he moved his hips, creating friction and using your spit to further lubricate his cock.

You moved your hands, leaning back a little. You took your nipples between your index and forefinger, twirling them in different directions, you were so turned on that could could probably cum just from playing with your boobs.

"Enjoying yourself are you?" Kol sneered, "I didn't say you could do that," he said, stopping his hips altogether and grabbing you by your throat again.

You whined around him as your head was pulled back, his shaft slipping from your mouth.

"Use your hands to move your tits," he said, slowly circling his hips, fucking your mouth again. Your eyes drifted to Elijah, who was leisurely working his hand up and down his rock hard cock, watching the scene playing out.

"You look so pretty like that," Elijah said with his velvet voice, his signature smirk playing on his lips.

Kol's thumb was running back and forth over your throat, "does my cock please you?" He asked, with a naughty glint in his eye.

You were too focused on all the sensations to answer and he didn't take well to that. He squeezed your throat and pulled you away, bringing your face close to his, "I asked you a question, answer," he ordered through gritted teeth.

"Y-yes it does, Kol" you managed to breathe out, your cheeks blushing.

His smirk widened, and he loosened his grip on you. He ran the pad of his thumb over your lips, looking between your eyes and your lips. He was so close that you could feel his breath fanning over your face.

"Sir," he corrected you.

You felt heat spreading through your entire body, "yes sir," you whispered, looking up at him.

The corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes flashed with excitement, "Good girl," he praised, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip and sliding it inside your mouth. Your tongue swirled around it and you moaned softly. Kol grabbed your wrist and directed your hand to his cock, moving it up and down.

"Put this mouth to use now," he breathed out, tucking his hand back in your hair, tilting your head back a bit, making you look up at him.

You maintained eye contact as you teased him, kissing up and down his shaft, "take all of me," he grunted, resting his hand on your cheek as you circled the tip of his cock with your tongue.

Your eyes widened at the demanding tone of his voice, and did as you were told, closing your mouth around him, opening it wider, taking in more and more of him.

He tapped your cheek lightly, "what a slut," he teased, rolling his hips, pushing himself deeper down your throat. You gagged, your hands gripping his thighs, squeezing them, trying to steady yourself. He kept thrusting, his balls slapping your chin. You were drooling around him, the sound of your gags filled the room.

"Oh, yeah just like that, baby," he said, holding you in place.

You gagged some more and tried to breathe through your nose, tilting your head back, letting him use your throat as his own personal fucktoy. The corners of your mouth were aching and you were drooling, small moans escaping you.

He didn't pull out once, as he was chasing his release. Your jaw was aching but you were enjoying this dominance over you. He let out a low groan and pulled out completely, tugging roughly at his hard length until he came all over your chest and your face, his warm cum spilling over your breasts.

Kol tucked himself in his shorts and flopped down in the nearby armchair, draping an arm over his face with his usual dramatic flair, "damn..." He tilted his head and gave you a long look, his eyes trailing up and down your form. Kneeling on the ground, trembling and disheveled in your bikini, completely fucked out and sticky with cum all over your chest and your face.

"Oh, sweetheart, you are an incredible sight to see," he laughed, sinking into the chair with a relaxed demeanor. "Don't you think Elijah?" He smirked at the older Mikaelson brother who was still standing in front of you, his bottom lip between his teeth.

Elijah was giving you the most intense, penetrating stare, eyes boring into yours, a hint of a smile quirking his lips up. You pivoted on your knees to face him, stroking him up and down as you looked up at him through your lashes, waiting for him to make the first move.

"Oh, I could get used to this view," he chuckled, running his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. You caught his digit with your lips and hummed softly, swirling your tongue around the pad of his thumb.

"Do you like having our cocks in your mouth?" He whispered, dark eyes looking deep into yours.

You nodded, whimpering in response as his finger slipped past your lips, plunging into your mouth. You sucked on it eagerly, moaning around it, and lowering your hand to play with his balls. You caressed them gently, cupping them, giving them a soft squeeze.

"What a perfect whore you are," he said, freeing his finger from your mouth and pressing the dripping tip of his cock against your lips. You parted your lips and let him push his length into your mouth. You took him deep, all the way down your throat, making him curse and release a satisfied moan.

He placed his hands on your cheeks, guiding you as you bobbed your head up and down, sucking him harder. He was the biggest out of the three brothers and took a while to get used to his length and the width of his cock.

He pressed your head down further, stilling it and holding you in place until you gagged, your hands coming up to grip his thighs in an attempt to ground yourself.

"That's it, take it all in," he cooed, running his hand through your hair.

Tears formed at the corner of your eyes and you tried to swallow around him as you choked.

"I can do whatever I want to your pretty little mouth and I will have you worshiping me just the way I like," he said as he slowly pulled his length out. You were gasping for air, blinking away the tears that had formed in your eyes and desperately trying to catch your breath.

He raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for a response, stroking your cheek with the back of his fingers.

You opened your mouth, he didn't give you a chance to answer him before he was pushing himself back inside. He thrusted deeply, snapping his hips and forcing the entirety of his length down your throat. His hips snapped sharply, fucking your throat hard and fast. You continued to choke on him and you squeezed his thigh, struggling to breathe.

"Good girl, I want to see those tears stream down your cheeks" he moaned, picking up the pace and continuing to fuck your mouth, the feeling you gagging turning him on even more.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, the look on his face made you moan, his lips parted, his eyes watching you with lust. You wanted to make him feel good. You wanted to make him cum.

He slowed his hips and you took the opportunity to press you head all the way down, deep throating him then pulling off and repeating this. You gagged with every pass, maintaining eye contact with him.

"God, I love seeing you like this," he breathed, his hips jerking. He grabbed your hair and pressed you against his groin, holding you there, your nose buried in the coarse, dark hair around the base of his cock.

"Mmmmm" you moaned, choking, the vibrations of your moan caused Elijah to release a deep, guttural sound and his hips to buck involuntarily. You could feel the muscles in his thighs tighten and he held your head in place as he emptied himself into your throat. You swallowed eagerly, milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You kept sucking him, cleaning his length and pulling more from him untill he softened.

You looked up at him, waiting for his next order. He was standing above you, breathing heavily, his face flushed, his eyes heavy-lidded.

He stroked your cheek, his fingers brushing your bottom lip, his expression unreadable, "such a perfect little cock whore aren't you?" He said in a low voice.

You smiled and nodded, humming, looking around at the three of them. All of them were breathing hard, their skin covered in a sheen of sweat. They looked absolutely breathtaking, lounging around and completely spent, the satisfied smiles on their faces making your heart swell with pride.

You were a mess as well, kneeling on the ground in front of them, trembling, panting, sweating. Your bikini top was ripped and all you were wearing was the skimpy bottom, your skin was sticky with their cum. The taste of all three of them lingering on your lips.

Kol stood and suddenly scooped you up, carrying you bridal style to the deck of the yacht, you shrieked and giggled as he ran.

The sunlight blinded you momentarily, and you blinked, tucking your head in his neck to shield your eyes from the blazing sun and take a deep breath.

"Ahh look, a beautiful beach right up ahead!" He said, laughing, his breath tickling your skin. "I want to fuck you on the sand, doll," he said in a rushed whisper, making you wriggle in his arms.

"Kol!!!" You protested, trying to break free, but he held you tight as he ran towards the side of the boat, stopping in the nick of time, "what are you doing? Oh, my god! You're crazy!" You were laughing, and cursing as you struggled against his grip, your hands cradling the back of his head.

"I am darling," he said, then jumped off the edge of the yacht with you in his arms, into the water below.

You screamed before you hit the water, bubbles rising up around you. Once you emerged, Kol pulled you back into his arms, peppering your face with kisses.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, arms circled around his neck, giggling, "you scared me."

"Sorry, it was too tempting. I couldn't help myself," he said between kisses and giving you an unapologetic smile.

You splashed water at him and he responded by diving underwater, pulling at the fabric of your bikini bottoms and yanking it off you. He swam to the surface and waved the fabric in his hand, "this is mine now."

"What?! Kol!" You said, swimming towards him and grabbing his shoulders, "give it back!" You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He kissed your nose, his eyes darting over to the beach, "I'll let you have it back after I've had you on beach," he said, smirking.

"No!" You shrieked and giggled, trying to wrestle him and snatch the material from his hand.

"Give them back Kol," Elijah's voice rang out from above, him and Klaus were leaning over the side of the yacht, looking down at the two of you.

Kol ignored them and threw the bottoms as far as he could, you immediately lost sight of them in the ocean waves.

"KOL!" You squealed, hitting his chest.

He let out a sharp, short laugh, "you don't need them, sweetheart, we are the only ones out here, just relax, enjoy yourself," he was massaging your ass in his large hands, tugging your cheeks apart, spreading you open, squeezing your flesh.

"Besides, I love the idea of you walking around naked," he added, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

He carried you to the shore, pressing you down into the wet sand. He pinned your hands over your head, kissing and nuzzling your neck, "be a good little whore, won't you? Stay still for me."

You hummed, nodding and squirming underneath him, he had you pinned under his weight and he was grinding his hard cock against your clit, making you gasp and arch your back.

He sunk his fangs into your neck, eliciting a yelp from you, "be still," he repeated, licking the spot that he just bit, soothing the tender flesh. He eased his cock into you, filling you slowly, inch by inch.

His hands gripped your thighs, pulling them apart and rolling his hips in a steady rhythm, sliding in and out of you. The sand was rough and hot against your skin and your back was moving up and down the sandy ground with each thrust. It wasn't the most comfortable situation, but you didn't care at the moment.

Your heels dug into the back of his legs, egging him on, angling your hips up for him. You were focused on his fangs grazing your neck, his grunts and heavy breathing, his cock nudging against your g-spot with every stroke.

He had you gasping and squirming underneath him, he smirked at you through hooded eyes, picking up the pace, hearing the sounds of his skin slapping against yours over the crashing waves.

"Cum all over my cock, darling," he breathed in your ear, as his pace quickened, his strokes became sloppy and uncoordinated as he neared his own climax.

You squeezed around him and let go, arching up to kiss him and moaning into his mouth as you shook, waves of pleasure flowing through you. He was relentless, pounding you fast and hard, stilling his hips and releasing deep inside you, letting out a primal grunt.

You were both sweating and completely out of breath as you stayed connected. You slid your hands up his arms and into his hair, smiling up at him.

"Enjoy yourself?" He asked, his damp hair falling into his face, droplets clinging to his forehead.

"Always," you whispered, pulling him closer, and pecking his lips.

He was about to say something else when Klaus' voice boomed, interrupting him.

"Ship is leaving, you two! Stop fucking and get back on board!"

Kol chuckled and looked over his shoulder at his brother, "we're not done yet, Nik! We're staying on this island and finding that missing bikini bottom," he shouted back.

You laughed and pushed on Kol's chest, "come on, you idiot, let's get back to the boat."

"Fine," he said, with an exaggerated sigh.

You swam your way back to the boat and climbed up the nearby ladder. Elijah was standing at the top of it, waiting for you, you stumbled as you clambered up the last few rungs of the ladder and would have face planted, if his strong hands hadn't caught you.

"Hello there," he flashed you a grin, "having fun I see," he surveyed the multiple love bites across your neck and shoulder with a hint of amusement.

"Hi," you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, admiring the hair curled there. He was your favorite of the three, the way he would look at you made your heart race, his deep voice made your knees weak.

The private hook-ups the two of you have had were always the most intense. You weren't sure what it was, but there was a fire between the two of you, one that burned hotter than the others.

"Where is Kol?" Elijah asked, looking over your shoulder.

"Still looking for my bikini," you said, giggling, "he won't find it, it's too far gone."

"Well, in the meantime," he said, before leaning in and kissing you slowly and passionately, gliding his hands up your bare back. You smiled against his lips, looping your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss.

He guided you backwards to the built in couches that lined the side of the boat, pushing you down onto the seat. You let out a soft gasp from the impact, looking up at him and biting your lip. He was towering above you, the sun illuminating his muscular form, making his skin glow.

He smiled and kneeled before you, his hands running up and down your thighs. He continued to spread them, leaning forward to kiss your stomach, making you giggle. He hooked your legs over his shoulders and pulled you towards him, kissing his way down, trailing his lips over your inner thighs, sucking and nipping at the skin.

He ran his nose over your mound and pressed a gentle kiss right above your clit, "so lovely," he breathed, his warm breath caressing your already sensitive pussy. He flattened his tongue and dragged it over your clit, flicking the tip.

He hummed as he tasted you, pressing his mouth to your pussy lips and sucking on them, drawing a long moan from you. He flicked and teased your clit with the tip of his tongue, before closing his lips around it and sucking gently, swirling his tongue around the nub.

"Eli," you whined, letting out a long moan, running your hands through his thick hair. He hummed, the vibrations sending tingles through your whole body.

He moved his tongue to your entrance, slipping it in, licking up the slickness. He fucked you with his tongue, his thumb coming up to massage your clit.

You were a moaning, writhing mess under his mouth, so lost in bliss you didn't notice Klaus sitting down next to you until he spoke.

"Hello, love," he smirked, taking a sip from his glass.

"Hey," you moaned, reaching a hand out to caress his cheek, running a finger over his bottom lip.

He grabbed your hand and kissed your fingers, before placing the cool, crystal glass to your lips.

You sipped the cool, bubbly liquid, looking up at him, eyes sparkling, "thanks."

He set the glass down, and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours, his tongue parting your lips and dipping inside. You gasped into Klaus' mouth as Elijah's tongue dipped between you cheeks, licking up and down, teasing your entrance, before circling his tongue around the tight ring.

You whimpered as he licked you and Klaus chuckled, kissing his way down your neck.

Kol finally appeared, standing over the two of them, watching as they ravished you, "look what I found," he said, dangling a bikini bottom from his fingers.

"I don't think she needs it," Klaus said, his breath tickling your neck.

"True," Kol said, tossing the scrap of material away and sitting on the couch next to you, reaching out to pluck a bottle of champagne out of an ice bucket, before taking a long drink and pouring some down your chest and torso.

Elijah licked the bubbles off your chest, giving special attention to your breasts, before making his way up and claiming your mouth again. You moaned into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands were gripping your thighs, keeping them spread open.

"Such a perfect slut for us," he breathed. You moaned, gyrating your hips, craving their touch, your body flushed with desire. Elijah moved back down, kissing your stomach, making his way back between your legs.

Your fingers curled in Elijah's damp hair, massaging his scalp as he kept his mouth on you. The warmth in your belly was spreading and the tightness building. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, as he sent you over the edge, pulling your clit into his mouth and sucking as your orgasm ripped through your body.

You gushed over his face, moaning and gasping at the stimulation, panting as you came down from your high. He sucked a little harder, making you kick your legs and try to push away.

"Too much, Eli!" you pleaded, unable to escape his vice-like grip.

He didn't stop and just gave you a smirk, making a show of it, and enjoying the look of pleasure and agony on your face.

He hummed softly, pressing two fingers into your ass, causing you to cry out and squeeze your thighs together, as he continued his attack on your clit, "Eli, I can't, please"

Kol bit your earlobe, and you felt the sharpness of his teeth, "you can and you will, you'll give our brother exactly what he wants, won't you?"

You nodded, moaning in response, letting Elijah stretch you open, working another finger inside, his tongue swirling, licking, sucking.

"Eli-" you cried, pulling on his hair as you felt him plunge his fingers deep and curl them inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut, tears stung the corners of your eyes, it was overwhelming, so intense.

"Eli, I'm cumming, please, I'm-" the rest of your sentence was cut off, your whole body tensed, a loud, long, drawn out moan escaped you.

You couldn't control the shaking, your mind went blank, your body was flooded with endorphins and you were a puddle in the arms of Kol and Klaus, who held you as you came.

Elijah finally moved his mouth away, his fingers still in your ass, he kissed you hard and you tasted yourself on his tongue.

Klaus grabbed the bottle of champagne and handed it to Elijah, who drank deeply, wiping his mouth on his forearm. He pushed your thighs back, and Kol and Klaus hooked their arms under your knees, holding you open.

Elijah removed his fingers and pushed his trunks down to his thighs, grabbing his cock, stroking himself slowly, smirking as you watched him.

You swallowed, looking between the three men, feeling like a trapped animal, you had nowhere to go, they had you surrounded.

"What a sight, sweetheart, such a slut," Elijah praised, brushing his thumb over your clit. You jolted and whined, "so sensitive, aren't we? Poor little whore, you've been fucked so many times, your body is just aching to be used."

"Eli," you whispered, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes. He chuckled, wrapping his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly, making you moan. "That's not what you call me when we are alone," he whispered, his dark eyes boring into yours, his expression stern, the veins rippling under his eyes.

You licked your lips, taking in a breath, Kol and Klaus exchanged glances, they didn't know about your private hookups with Elijah.

"I'm sorry... daddy," you replied, looking up at him through your lashes, your eyes wide and innocent as they could be in this position.

He grinned, pleased with your answer and Klaus and Kol snickered, making Elijah's smile widen, showing his white teeth, "much better," he cooed, his grip tightening, as he aligned his cock with your ass, pushing past the rim, sinking deep inside.

Your hands flew to his wrists, squeezing tightly, your eyes pleading with him to go slow, even though you knew he wouldn't, and he didn't. He thrust hard and fast, making your toes curl, Klaus and Kol holding you tight and keeping you from wiggling away.

They were both touching and groping, whispering dirty things in your ears, the combined attention had you soaring towards your next orgasm.

"You're such a little slut for us, aren't you? Our perfect, little, cock whore, aren't you darling?" Kol murmured, his hand cupping your breast, rolling and pinching the nipple. Klaus was playing with your other nipple, tugging and squeezing, and you were lost in their touch and words.

"Yes, I'm a little slut, please-" you gasped, arching up, the intensity of Elijah's thrusts sending shockwaves through you. Elijah's hand tightened on your throat, his cock plunging deep, making your eyes roll back and you let out a choked moan, the stretch was so good.

"Tell them," Elijah said, his voice was commanding, demanding, his tone leaving no room for discussion. "Tell them how much of a filthy little slut you are," he said, his eyes staring directly into yours, his thrusts getting faster and sloppier.

You whined, squirming in their hold, the heat was building and your head was fuzzy. Kol gave you a light slap on the cheek, bringing you back, "tell us, sweetheart, don't keep us waiting."

"I'm a dirty little whore," you panted, looking up at Elijah, whose lips were curled into a devilish grin, "a cock-hungry little slut," he grunted, his hips snapping.

"You're ours, all ours, aren't you? You love this, being filled and stretched, being used by all three of us, don't you?" Kol's words had you clenching around Elijah's cock, your whole body was trembling, so close to your climax.

"Yes, yes, yes," you moaned, arching your back, feeling Klaus and Kol's hands exploring your body.

"Good girl," Elijah said, loosening his hold on your neck, "so obedient"

He withdrew his hips and snapped them forward, drawing a loud moan from you, which encouraged him, and he began fucking you, hard and fast, setting a brutal pace. He leaned down, capturing your mouth, kissing you tenderly, as if to apologize for the roughness of his thrusts.

"I want to see her ass stretched wide and gaping for us," Kol hummed, his hands roaming down your sides, his fingers digging into your flesh, as Elijah continued to pound into you.

Elijah was getting close, his hands were shaking, his face contorting with the effort to control himself, his mouth open in a silent moan. His hips stilled, he let out a guttural groan as he filled you, his cock twitching and pulsing, his cum dripping out of you.

He pulled out slowly, and Kol watched, entranced, watching how your ass gaped, and the cum leaking from you.

"Such a dirty, filthy, slut, sweetheart," Kol cooed, his fingers sliding down and rubbing your sensitive clit. You gasped and whimpered, the stimulation making you writhe and squirm, trying to escape his touch.

Klaus' hand covered your mouth, "shhhh, we're not done with you, darling, we want you to cum for us one more time." He looked at his brother and smirked, "do you think she can do it?"

You cried out, muffled by Klaus' hand, feeling him pinch your clit, before he pulled you onto his lap, moving your legs to straddle him. His lips found yours and you moaned into the kiss, he held you tightly, his hands on your waist, guiding you to his cock, "such a good girl, you're going to ride me, and you're not allowed to cum, understand?"

"Yes, Sir," you breathed.

"Good," he said, his voice was a low growl, his eyes flashing amber, he looked dangerous, and it made your blood rush and heart race. "Now make yourself useful," he smirked, smacking you hard on the ass.

You sank onto him, moaning as he stretched you, grinding against him, loving the feel of his cock rubbing inside you. He smacked your ass again, "come on, darling, move, I'm not getting any younger," he growled.

You lifted yourself and slid back down, rolling your hips and clenching around him. Elijah sat down on the couch and took your hand, placing it on his already hard cock, encouraging you to stroke him. He leaned forward and kissed you, his hand caressing your cheek, "so perfect, little one, keep riding my brother, I know you can do it."

Kol came up behind you, running his hands over your hips and down your legs, before sliding them up your stomach and cupping your breasts, rolling and squeezing them. He kissed your shoulder, and nibbled on the skin, his cock pressing into your ass, grinding against you.

The sensations were overwhelming, and you were panting and moaning, the tightness building in your core. Klaus grabbed your throat, squeezing, "look at me," he demanded. You forced your eyes open, gazing at him through your lashes, feeling light headed and dizzy, the pleasure building, the tightness almost painful.

"Don't cum, not yet," he ordered, and you whimpered, squeezing his cock, the feeling of being full was driving you crazy. You were close, so close, and he wasn't letting you finish.

"I'm sorry," you whined, stilling your hips, trying to pull away from his hand, "I can't, sir, I'm gonna cum."

Klaus pulled you forward by the neck, holding you tight against his chest, his hands on your ass, squeezing and massaging, spreading your cheeks wide.

"Don't you dare move," Klaus growled in your ear, "and stay quiet, you don't want everyone to hear what a filthy whore you are, do you?"

You shook your head, biting your lip, burying your face in his neck, your breathing heavy. You felt Kol press his cock against your asshole and he slid in slowly. You cried out, the sound muffled by Klaus' shoulder.

Kol's hands gripped your waist and he started moving, fucking you in earnest. Klaus held your hips still, his fingers digging into your flesh. You were trapped between them, their cocks filling you. Kol's thrusts were hard and fast, each time he hit bottom, the air was pushed from your lungs, and you could only hold on and take it.

They were relentless, their bodies moving in unison, and when they picked up the pace, and you were on the brink, you had no choice but to let go.

You tried to stifle your moans, to hide the fact that you were coming apart between the two men, and they weren't having it.

Kol's hand found its way into your hair and he tugged, pulling your head back, "we said no, and yet, here you are, cumming without permission," he hissed, slamming his hips into yours, his cock pulsing.

"Such a naughty slut," Klaus added, reaching between your legs, rubbing your clit, and making you gasp, "such a bad girl," he said, his voice low, "and we know exactly what to do with bad girls, don't we Elijah?"

Elijah stood and stepped up onto the couch, and placed his cock on your cheek, "open your mouth, darling, you need to be taught a lesson," he demanded.

You obeyed, and his cock slipped into your mouth, he didn't let you have control, he held your head, pulling you flush into his groin, "take it, all the way," he urged, and you gagged, trying to relax your throat, your nose pressed into the hair at the base of his cock.

"Good girl, such a good slut," he praised, thrusting his hips, fucking your face, and you closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of being used and filled by the three men.

Kol smacked your ass hard, over and over, until the skin was hot and sore, he slapped it again and again, as he fucked you, his movements becoming more erratic, his cock pulsed and twitched, and you felt his cum fill you.

His orgasm was intense, his breathing heavy, and when he was finished, he withdrew from you, laying back on the deck with his limbs spread, a goofy smile on his face.

You were still full, your jaw ached, Elijah's cock was deep down your throat and you gagged around it, but he didn't relent, his hips bucking, fucking your face. Your vision was blurry, the tears in your eyes obscuring everything, you could only feel, and you were lost in the pleasure, your mind numb, your body floating.

Elijah withdrew as Klaus tensed, he pulled you off his lap, forcing you to your knees, his cock in his hand, stroking himself. He groaned loudly as he came, ropes of white spurting out and landing on your face and chest. Elijah was right behind him, and he pulled your hair, his cock throbbing, his cum coating your tongue and lips, his groans reverberating through you.

He released his grip, his hand running through your hair, his thumb running over your cheek, collecting their cum, and pushing it into your mouth, and you sucked it clean.

"That's our good girl," Klaus murmured, his finger caressing your jaw, as he admired his handiwork.

The boat drifted along, the waves crashing against the hull, and the sun was setting, painting the sky and ocean in a warm orange glow.

You laid on the floor, covered in cum, sweat, and champagne, surrounded by the three naked brothers, your body sore and aching.

You smiled and let out a contented sigh, you were sated and happy, and there was nothing that could ruin this perfect day.

"So, who's hungry?" Kol asked, his head propped on his hand, a mischievous grin on his face.

The other brothers chuckled, and you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, and laughing at the insatiable man.

"Well, we should probably shower, get cleaned up, then we can figure out food," you suggested, looking around the mess that was once a pristine yacht. There were towels and champagne bottles strewn everywhere, the smell of sex and alcohol filling the air.

"What a wonderful idea," Elijah replied, helping you to your feet, you fell over a bit, still wobbly from the rough treatment, and he caught you. He pulled you close and scooped you up, carrying you towards the jacuzzi. The three men climbed in, and Kol turned on the jets, the water bubbling, and the steam rose up.

The four of you were relaxed, the warm water soothing your aching muscles, Elijah pulled you into his lap, and you rested your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping around you, holding you close.

Kol and Klaus sat next to you, the two brothers leaning on the edge, their arms crossed over the side, their eyes closed. You looked around the tub, admiring the view of the ocean, the golden sunset reflecting on the water.

You thought about the events of the day, and the memories made, and it was clear, this was the most magnificent, decadent, and debaucherous spring break you would ever have.

And the best part was, it wasn't even over yet, this was only the first day.

You let out a contented sigh, snuggling closer to Elijah.

This was going to be the best week ever.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡

♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please ♡ @hamiltimes ♡ @akala6670229 ♡ @yeaiamme2 ♡ @itsjulzandmydiamonds ♡ @spideysbabe ♡

462 notes · View notes

disneyprincemuke · 3 months

Text

just a responsible pet owner * fem!driver

she comes home after a night of drinking, suddenly concerned about what their pets are eating

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!driver

notes: hi ive had this fic idea in my head FOR WEEKS and i think it's so funny so here we are

(series masterlist) | (📂 the sophomore year)

“be careful!” logan scolds as she pushes the door open, stumbling into the door as she opens it.

she kicks her heels off as she waves logan off who’s trailing behind her, arms held out protectively in case she were to fall into one of their shelves.

“i’m fine,” she mutters, slowly walking and swaying further into their apartment. she has her hands held out on both walls of the entryway to steady herself, desperately ignoring the way the room spins and how she’s stepping on her foot every time she walks.

“i hardly believe that. you drank too much, rocky,” logan sighs, scratching his head.

this could have been easier if she’d just agreed to let him carry her back from his car to their apartment. she wouldn’t have had to struggle stumbling everywhere in her heels, knees giving in every couple of steps.

she shakes her head. “i’m fine– oh! my kids! hello, kids!”

she drops to her knees next to the black cat by his feeding bowl, meowing at her as he puts his two front paws on her thigh. “hi, kid. did you miss me?” she grabs both sides of the cat's face, hunching over and pressing kisses to the top of the cat’s head. “i missed you. what are you doing? are you eating?”

“i think he was eating,” logan mutters. he bends over and puts a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “we should really get you to bed — take off your makeup and drink lots of water. how does that sound?”

she turns around, eyebrows furrowed at him with a frown. “that sounds stupid.”

he lifts his eyebrows. “oh?”

“yeah,” she hums, wrapping her arms around kidnapper, who willingly gets into her lap. “i want to cuddle with my baby.” she rests her cheek on the top of the black cat’s head, then opens her eyes. “is your food even nice?”

shortly, the corgi starts trudging up to her happily, prompting the young girl to squeak and open her arms up to the pup. stubby reciprocates and cuddles into her lap, tail wagging in happiness at her affection.

“dude,” logan repeats himself in a slightly firmer tone. “you need to drink some water and get to bed. at this rate, you’ll fall asleep on the floor.”

“wait,” she mutters, dropping the animals in her hands. she tilts her entire body and rests her head on the wall. “am i even feeding you well? is your food as yummy as you make it out to be?”

logan lets out a soft cry, his arm darting out immediately to grab her wrist before she could grab a kibble from the cat bowl. “that’s cat food.”

“i know,” she says in a whisper, her other hand coming around to tear his grip off her. “i just want to taste their food and make sure they’re eating well.”

if you had told him 5 hours ago that this would be the outcome of their night out, he wouldn’t have believed you. she’d always prided herself in having control over her body when she was drunk, but it seems that she’s just in another dimension tonight. he assumes it’s the 4 cups of margaritas that she downed in 10 minutes before he dragged them out of the club.

“that’s not for you!”

“stop telling me what not to eat! you’re not noah!” she squeaks, turning around to shove him away. “it’s just cat and dog food — i won’t get sick!”

logan throws his head back. “i can’t risk that! noah will kill me if anything happens to you before the race this weekend!”

she lets out a soft scream when he grabs both of her arms, pulling her away from the pet bowls, throwing her head back and resting it on his shoulder. “let me be the pet food police! if they’re not nice, i have to change the brand we’re getting!”

“mate, if they didn’t think it was nice, they wouldn’t be eating it!” logan fights back, pulling her arms back from darting forward to get a taste of their food. “stop trying to try it!”

“fine!” she drops her arms to her side as logan finally lets go of her. she blinks blankly and pouts her bottom lip out. “can i have a glass of water please?”

he stares at her, slightly hesitant. “you’re not going to do anything stupid?”

she shakes her head and drops it slightly, her hair falling down the sides of her face. “i’m thirsty. please?”

“okay,” logan nods, slowly scrambling to get off the floor. “stay here, okay? don’t go anywhere; i’ll help you get to bed after you drink some water.”

but he should have known better than to leave her unattended at that state. he had left for 20 seconds maximum to hurriedly get her a cup of water. when he came back, she’s lying on her stomach, chin in her hand with her elbow propped up against the ground, chewing away on something.

“hey, what the fuck are you eating?” logan screams, putting the cup down on their dining table and rushing over to where she is on the ground. “mate, you’re worse than stubby when he was a puppy! what are you eating?”

she doesn’t have the same urgency. her feet are in the air and she turns to him with doe eyes. “it’s kinda bland.” she looks at kidnapper, lying down innocently next to her. “how do you eat that, mate? it’s got no taste at all.”

she doesn’t spare logan another glance, just turns away and turns to stubby’s bowl. “what about you, tubs? what does your food taste like?”

“stop eating their food! if you’re that hungry, i’ll make you a sandwich!” logan scolds, climbing on her back to pull her away from the pets’ corner. “that’s not your food. stop eating it!”

“i need to see if their food is good food!” she continues to defend herself, pushing her arm forward in hopes that logan would be the first to give up the fight. “please! i’m a concerned pet owner!” she turns her head. “you don’t care for my kids!”

logan rolls his eyes. “yes, i do! i walk stubby every morning we’re home!”

“if you cared for them more, you’d try their food so that we know what we’re feeding them!”

“that’s not the same thing!”

“yes, it is! leave me alone!”

“rocky! pet food is not human food!”

“i just wanna try it!”

“give it up! you’ve tried kidnapper’s food and that’s enough,” logan sighs, dropping himself on the floor next to her. his hands, however, are still gripping hers and tiredly pulling her away from the bowls. “please stop trying to eat their food. it’s not for you.”

“why not?” she whines, now dropping her head to rest on her arm. “i’m being a responsible pet owner, mate.”

“no, you’re just being stupid.”

“aw, take that back!”

“but you are!”

“you’re always so mean to me!” she squeaks, lifting her head to look at him. “i’m going to bed!”

logan chuckles, “if you can get up and make it to bed by yourself, i’ll let you eat stubby’s kibble.”

she sighs loudly and drops her head again, followed by an even louder whine. “fine. you got me.”

they let the silence overcome them for a moment, his hands still gripping hers tightly. he’s let his guard down too easily once tonight and there is absolutely no way that she will get the best of him again.

“can you take me to my bed now?” she starts softly. “and i’d like that glass of water now.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @vellicora @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @33-81 @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @localwhoore @sadg3 @kazuha-pista-badam @mellowarcadefun @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @clemswrld @a-disturbing-self-reflection @inejismywife @love4lando @louvrepool

#logan sargeant x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 female driver #formula one x reader #fem!driver #f1 fem!driver #female driver #disneyprincemuke vr #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #vettel reincarnate

431 notes · View notes

leahsgirl · 3 months

Text

blind date | leah williamson x reader

in which you and your fellow england teammate are set up on a blind date. no warnings, just pure fluff really.

i’m having such major writing block right now so hoping this pulls me out of it or i’ll scream. 💪

“wit woo!” your roommate alessia hollered as you finished putting on your earrings.

“do i look okay?” you did a full spin, showcasing the tight fitting black dress you had on that fell just above your knees, gold heels on ur feet, gold jewellery and your hair that flowed below your shoulders in loose curls.

“you look gorgeous - your date won’t know what hit them.” the blonde replied with a smirk, coming over and fixing your necklace so the clasp didn’t keep slipping to the front.

“can’t believe youse have bullied me into this.” your national teammates had made your love life the new topic of interest since you was ‘hot and single’ and should ‘get out there more’.

while they raised a good point, a blind date is the last thing you wanted considering you was probably the most socially awkward person going when meeting new people. not to mention; your teammates planned it which in itself is enough to make you not want to go.

“you’ll have a great time, wouldn’t be surprised if you hear wedding bells at the end of it.” the forward winked having way too much fun at this whole scenario.

“calm your horses russo, i don’t plan on that for another five years.”

seeing the time you scramble to get your belongings and find your car keys. “right i’m off wish me luck!” you shout out as you close the front door.

from the adress that tooney had messaged you beforehand you found yourself outside a small restaurant at the end of a street. it looked nice and welcoming from the outside to be fair.

now when your teammates said blind date, you didn’t expect to walk in to sheer darkness, bumping into something as soon as you entered the premises.

“name.” what you can only assume was a waiter asked. “oh sorry; y/n.”

“ah right this way miss - if you could just place your hand on my colleagues shoulder and we’ll guide you through.”

following the man’s instructions you lightly gripped the man and was led into a separate room which was still as dark, but you could at least hear voices of other customers there.

“your seat madam, your date should arrive shortly.” great you thought, first one to arrive which only meant more nerves could inevitably build up.

trying to burn some of the time you felt the table, getting to grips with where the cutlery and place mats were.

“miss your date has arrived, please take a seat.” the man motioned to the booth not that anyone could see it. “thank y- ah shite!”

“are you okay?” you asked after hearing a slight bang.

“yeah just banged my pissing thigh on the table.” the voice was one of a woman’s, also one that was incredibly familiar.

“not the best way to start a date eh. i’m leah.”

“shut up!” alessia’s playful comments and expressions, teammates overwhelming interest, the whole blind date notion in general now making a whole lot of sense.

“wow can’t say i’ve ever had that greeting.” the england captain a little confused.

“no leah it’s me, y/n.”

“piss off.” you could hear the disbelief in her voice, she too apparently well unaware of the obvious set up.

“take it you were also forced to go on a date with a stranger.”

“oh i’m so going to kill georgia for this.” leah scoffed before pausing “not because the date is with you! i just mean the whole deceit in general.”

“don’t worry i’ll be planning lessi and tooney’s revenge after.”

“gotta give them credit though, they’ve paired two incredibly hot women together.” leah was smirking while you was essentially swooning over the fact she called you hot.

“yeah but why? it’s not like you like me romantically or anything.”

just before leah could reply one of the waiters returned to the table “can i get you ladies something to drink?”

“erh i’ll have a margarita please.” you deciding on the same thing and ordering it.

“well we may as well treat this as a date considering that’s what we’re here for.” there was a brief pause. “so y/n, what do you do for a living?”

you laugh as you engage in her playfulness. “i’m actually a professional football player, both man united and england.”

“oh wow that’s cool, do you like it?” the older girl asked faking curiosity, resting her chin on her hand as she moved closer.

“it has its ups and downs, there’s this girl on my national squad though who is super competitive - she cried when i beat her at mario kart.” you beamed knowing leah would not appreciate the bringing up of her defeat.

“hey you said you’d let that go!” breaking away from her ‘never met you before’ character. “sorry.” (you wasn’t sorry at all).

“okay my turn; do you have any hobbies?”

“i’m quite good at kicking a ball around too to be fair.” you quirked a brow. “oh are you?”

“yeah if you google leah williamson you might see some of my skills. i’m also very good at sudoku.” the blonde wasn’t lying considering you’ve watched her play it hundreds of times, you yourself never being able to grasp the game.

after a bunch of easy, lighthearted conversation, food had arrived, leah opting for a steak and you on pasta.

“oh my god this is to die for.” having your first taste and the flavours melting on your tongue. “you’ve gotta try this.” you move your spoon towards the blonde’s direction “that’s my eye babe.” she said with a laugh, your cheeks immediately flushing at the embarrassing miscalculation and pet name. “shit my bad.”

“mhm your right, might have to swap plates.” leah acknowledging the how delicious it was.

“back off williamson.” you reply sternly as you wack away her hand with the back of your unused fork.

time was going by pretty fast, the pair of you fully present and engaged with each other. you didn’t even bother looking at your phone which now had a build up of messages off your friends asking how it was going.

maybe you both were a little tipsy when leaving the restaurant after splitting the bill, having taken a tumble up the step.

the cold breeze was like a harsh slap to your face once outside, a large juxtaposition from the building that was warm and cozy.

“wow.” a stunned leah stood behind as she took you in. “what?” having now taken notice to the blatantly obvious staring from the arsenal player.

“you. you look incredible.” her eyes racking every single inch of your body. “i’ve never really seen you this dressed up. it’s hot.”

“y’know being showered in compliments by leah williamson isn’t half bad.” revelling in the smooth girls words of praise.

“and yet i don’t get a single one back.” jutting out her lip and faking hurt which only made you laugh and roll your eyes.

“i guess you do scrub up okay, the outfit is a solid 9/10 i’d say.”

“we’ve got to improve on those compliment skills.” the blonde scoffed.

“can’t say anything too nice, that ego of yours will human combust.” you say already aware of the defenders cockiness/arrogance. “i’d say my ego is the perfect size thank you very much.”

“okay well thanks for this ‘date.’” using your hands to air quote. “-i’ve had a good time.”

leah smiled “me too.”

you stop for a second almost hesitating doing something before ultimately deciding against it, bidding your goodbye as you turned on your heel to make your way back to your car.

“y/n wait!” jogging to catch up with you, the blue-eyed girl grabbed at your arm making you stumble back and face her. “what’s up?”

her gaze flicking between your eyes and lips as her heart pounded out her chest “i forgot to do this.”

said barely above a whisper, her lips found themselves pressed against yours. the touch so light almost like she was afraid she’d scare you away.

that couldn’t be further from the truth though, with you reciprocating the kiss by deepening it as she moved her hands so they wrapped around your waist.

pulling away youse both had rosy cheeks and heaving chests, smiling dopily at each other.

“get in!” “fucking finally!” the pair looked around for the sudden screams, shock plastered on your face when you see ella and georgia peeping out behind a wall.

leah following your gaze and spotting the teammates “have you guys been watching us?!”

stanway was the one to reply “only the last five minutes; never knew you had that game within you lee.” winking, referring to the public display of affection youse just gave.

“it was so fun to see y/n swooning.” tooney added laughing menacingly.

you and leah lock eyes, sharing a look both of you seem to understand. “shall we get our revenge?” the captain asked slyly, you agreeing immediately.

taking notice of the devilish grins that were plastered on the pair, georgia and ella looked uneasy, starting to retract slowly but surely.

“come here you little shits!” running after the girls while they squealed like little kids, making their getaway.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso community #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #england lionesses #lionesses #lw6

463 notes · View notes

allbark-no-bite · 6 months

Text

cowboy up.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.6k)

summary: Jake’s a tease. and a cowboy. it makes your friends sick

warnings: really none i think, just talk of and allusions to sex

authors note: very loosely based off of “Dirty Looks” by Lainey Wilson. it got me into the mood to write a little something. briefly mentioned that reader is Ice’s daughter

————————————————————————

"Well hello, mi cowboy."

It's the deliciously sensual roll of the endearment off of your tongue that has Jake hooking two fingers through the loop of your jeans and tugging you firmly into his side as he approaches the bar. It starts up an engine-like rumble in his chest that travels up his throat and catches, vibrating while he bows down to kiss you. Just the sight of your sweet smile has the weariness of the day melting off of him.

El cowboy, you mother had appraised with great enthuse the first time you had brought Jake home, and he greeted her with his smooth as honey southern drawl. Being Latino and having grown up just along the border in El Paso, her English was still licked with Spanish flare and it made everything she said sound rivetingly amorous. Even after three years of dating, she still widely referred to him as the cowboy—your cowboy.

"Hey, darlin'. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. There were some mechanical issues with my plane and I couldn't get away," he apologizes, hence the grease stains on his hands. He had probably only taken the time to change into a fresh set of clothes before leaving base and driving straight to the Hard Deck.

You only hum, tipping your head up to steal a second kiss before he straightens. "Glad you're here now."

Jake has to stop himself from chasing your lips for a third. Penny's warned him about getting too frisky at the bar. It's not his fault when you taste like strawberry margaritas and are wearing those jeans that you know drive him crazy.

But when he looks over his shoulder, Penny's sliding him an ice cold beer from across the bar. "This one's on the house, Seresin." The gleam shining in her eyes tells him that she's caught the two of you but is going to let it slide this time.

When he opens his mouth to argue, already digging his wallet out of his pocket, she shakes her head. "Looks like you had a long day. Enjoy the beer."

"Really, Pen, I—"

Penny's back is already turned as she heads to the other side of the bar to serving an incoming crowd of aviators.

Jake glances down to his well worn boots while his hand goes to his jaw to feel at the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. Does he really look that worn out? He has to resist the urge to smell himself.

He looks back to you, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for showing up like this. Here he is, covered in sweat and engine grease, while his own girlfriend is standing next to him, looking way out of his league. Even the Dagger Squad looks fresh and put together. It would have been hard to guess that they had all been out sweating on the tarmac together earlier in the day.

"I probably should have cleaned up," he admits, running a hand over the cropped hair at the back of his neck. He's wondering if he can at least escape to the bathroom for a minute to stick his head under the sink.

What Jake doesn't know is that you might actually kill him if he does that. There's something about the combination of his off-duty khakis and dusty boots that is making your heart flutter. The tousle of his blonde hair after a long day and ruddy flush of his already tan cheeks give off the impression that he's more than just a pretty face. He looks hard working and very, very capable.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?" he hums, having been eyeing the bathrooms, contemplating even just splashing some water on his face.

Your heart squeezes painfully when his dazzling green eyes turn back to land on yours, eyebrows raised in question, fully attuned to whatever it is that you may need. "What baby—"

He stops mid sentence when you pull him down by the back of his neck to kiss him. This time it's a much less chaste kiss than the one you greeted him with, and he gets to really taste the strawberry margarita on your lips—a bit sweet, a little salty. The taste makes his mouth tingle and he's not sure if it's you or the tequila that's making him feel buzzed.

Jake's hand immediately slips around your waist, his large hand on your back, pressing you into him. A groan slips out of him when his fingers brush the warm skin just above the rise of your jeans.

The fact that you had purposefully chosen not to wear your khakis like himself and the rest of the crew makes Jake that much more hot and bothered. It's not that he dislikes your usual naval attire, because he doesn't. He loves how it fits you, who you become when you wear it, your signature "Frostbite" embroidered on the front—the name he gave you. It's the fact he's come in, dead on his feet from working all day, and his diamond of a girlfriend is wearing an outfit she put on just for him.

Really, Jake thinks his chest might just implode.

His free hand had been holding his beer out to the side, momentarily forgotten once you'd started kissing him. Blindly, he sets it down behind him, the glass clinking against the bar top so that he can get both of his hands on you without spilling. He prefers you, the taste of your skin anyhow.

"So damn sweet," he groans into the underside of your jaw, eyes shut as he fights the urge to say fuck it and take you home now. "Could just eat you."

You laugh, fingers gripping his blonde hair. "Is that a promise, cowboy?" Jake's teeth scrape your pulse point and your fingers tighten. His body is hot pressed flushed against you, moving as you move so that the contact never breaks.

"Baby, I'd devour you," he promises huskily into your ear. Mav has been working them to the bone for the past few weeks, and Jake has hardly had the energy to climb the front steps when he gets home, much less make it to the bedroom. To say you've both been left wanting is an understatement.

His lips press wetly to your neck. "You look good, Frosty Girl. You know how much I love those jeans..."

You hum, eyes fluttering closed as Jake sends you to that place. That place where only you and Jake exist, where the worries of the day melt away, and it smells like his cinnamon oak body wash and the hint of beer on his breath. It doesn't matter than he smells slightly of sweat and jet fuel because that's just him. That's what makes him Jake.

"Mmm, you do?" Of course he does. Jake Seresin drinks the air you breathe and worships the ground you walk on. "I think you'll like what I have on under them more."

If Jake had been twenty-one again, he'd have a raging hard on in his jeans right now. After two years of dating you, he's developed a bit of self control since then. He spent a lot of lunch breaks jacking off in the bathroom the first few months. All you had to do was rub up against him climbing out the back seat of the cockpit and he was sneaking off to take care of himself before any of the Dagger squad could see the missile sized hard on in his pants.

Jake smiles, his pearly white grin pressed into your neck. His jade green eyes peer up at you with a gleam of anticipation.

"Black?" he guesses, his nimble fingertips already dipping just past your waistband to brush across the lace he knows he's going to find.

"Uhh mm," you deny, enjoying the thrill of teasing him with your secret.

His warm breath fans across your neck. "Red?"

The corners of your mouth quirk up into a look that Jake can only describe as devilish. "I figured you deserved a treat. I know you've been—" Before you can finish, Jake is kissing you. His pink lips are cool and a bit wet from the beer he's been nursing, but his tongue is hot and slick and wet and it just feels so good.

"Jesus. Get a room, you two."

Despite the roar of blood in his ears, the buzzing in his veins, Jake recognizes the sound of Bradley's voice just a table away.

Begrudgingly pulling away from the kiss, Jake doesn't release you just yet, just moves his head to look over your shoulder. He had hardly even acknowledged the Dagger Squad when he walked in, too focused on you. And maybe that's on him.

"Sorry, Bradshaw. Didn't see you there." You can tell Jake's smirking over your shoulder, hand not so slyly cupping the curve of your ass as he reaches for his beer with the other, playing at indifference. He takes a slow swig of it, unbothered by the fact that your friends -you coworkers- are all watching. "I was busy saying hello to my unbelievably sexy girlfriend."

Without breaking eye contact with Bradley, Jake plants a filthy wet kiss to the pulse point of your neck. It's enough to make the other aviator's mustache twitch and his throat constrict with a impulsive swallow. Regardless of how they acted— always at each other’s throats— there was no longer any bad blood between the two pilots. That feud had been settled on the Uranium mission last year and was replaced by new found respect, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t seize every opportunity to ruffle the other’s feathers.

"This is a public space," Natasha reminds him, as if he were unaware of the extremely crowded bar.

Jake smirks. "Oh believe me, I'm holding back for Floyd's sake. Wouldn't want to ruin his innocence."

The weapon system officer emits a noise of protest from across the table, his cheeks flashing an embarrassed hue of red. "I've already told you, I'm not a virgin!"

You giggle into Jake's shoulder at his complait, content to bask in the temporary stronghold of your boyfriend's embrace. It's nice to get moments with him like this, away from the stress of work and without the pressure of success weighing on your shoulders.

Of course your friends knew about yours and Jake's relationship, had known since the very first date, but in nearly three years of dating, they had come to the realization that they knew very little about your relationship. Work was strictly professional for the two of you and even at the bar, the most intimate thing they'd ever seen occur was Jake greeting you with a quick kiss.

"Damn, Bagman, you walking in here, kiss Frost senseless, and now she's giggling? You're telling me that's all it takes to bring her from she-devil to—giggling?" Coyote asks from behind his pool cue, sauntering over to join the group.

Jake, his green eyes gleaming, slips his warm palm under your shirt to smooth over the exposed curve of your hip. "I can make her do a lot more than giggle, Machado."

You groan, burying your embarrassingly flushed face further into Jake's neck. Although your boyfriend may be able to play the nonchalance card, you can only take so much of their teasing.

You push away from Jake before he can start full on groping you in front of your friends. If there's one thing about Jake, he has no shame when it comes to showing you off.

"I don't giggle, Javy," you stress, choosing to ignore Jake's comment.

Fanboy, who is never far behind the other pilot, saunters over and slings an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Giggle? I've never even seen you crack a smile."

Before you can respond, Jake is sliding an impossibly large palm around to cup the back of your neck, fingers digging in to the tense muscle that he knows is there. Relax, is what that means. "Careful, she does bite." He's grinning, a smug, but knowing smirk on his face.

"Fuck, man. I knew you were into that kinky shit," Coyote quips, and it evokes a few laughs from the Dagger squad, save for Natasha, who pretends to roll her eyes.

Jake grins. "Damn straight."

"Easy, cowboy," you warn, your eyes narrowing at him in playful warning.

You're not necessarily embarrassed by Jake's insinuation of your sex life, the two of you were well established in your relationship and you trusted your friends too much to be embarrassed by that kind of thing. It's just that being Admiral Kazanky's daughter meant that too many people assumed you had only made it this far because of your old man or that you were sleeping through the ranks, which was far from the truth.

You deserved to be here. And Jake knows this, which is why his thumb is still massaging at the pressure point at the base of your skull, just behind your ear. Everything about him, from the reassuring smile he directs at you to his relaxed body language is him letting you know that it's all in good fun, and no one here thinks that you don’t belong here in the slightest.

Bradley's shaking his head as he lounges against the pool table. "I don't know what I'm going to have to tell my therapist about first, the fact that Frost calls you 'cowboy' or the fact you probably get off on that shit.”

Jake grins, toothpick bobbing in his mouth as his impish smile widens. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Bradshaw?”

The truth is, he does. Behind the cool and collected facade that he’s putting up, bantering back and forth with your friends while he sips his beer, he’s just the right amount of hot and bothered that he wouldn’t mind calling it a night just to go home and have his way with you. He hasn’t forgotten about the little red number you’re wearing.

Having lost the attention of the rest of the squad to the pool table during his and Rooster’s banter, Jake shifts his focus to you. Large hand coming to rest on your back, he dips down to murmur in your ear. “Think I’m about ready to turn in, kid. What do you say we get out of here?”

Your pretty face turns towards him, and you don’t miss the gleam in his green eyes. Smiling privately to yourself, you eyes reflect his knowingly. “Rooster will never let you live it down. You only just got here.” However, that doesn’t mean you can’t be coerced.

Jake hums, his lips pressing to your temple in a kiss that’s meant to hide the fact that he’s whispering— plotting— in your ear. “I’ll buy ‘em around on the way out. They won’t even notice we’re gone,” he reasons.

You smile, turning back to the game of pool as Jake leans over you before you give him. “Go on,” you finally encourage. “I’ll follow you out.”

Grinning and all too pleased with himself, Jake slips off behind you, but not before giving an affectionate pat to your ass. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him.

You wait a while before discreetly making your escape form the pool table, grabbing your things as you go. Jake’s waiting for you at the door, all too pleased to see you, as though he hadn’t just five minutes before. “Made it?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they—”

“Well damn, goodbye to you guys too!” Rooster calls from across the bar. Obviously having noticed your departure, the Dagger Squad is all standing around the pool table, shaking their heads in varying levels of amused disapproval.

Payback crosses his arms. “You guys make me sick.”

Opening the door for you, Jake turns and tips his imaginary cowboy hat at them with an grin. “Sorry man. If you all will excuse me, I’ve got some riding to do.”

#top gun maverick #top gun fic #topgun maverick #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #top gun maverick hangman #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman x reader

818 notes · View notes

tigertales9 · 1 month

Text

Wrapped Around Your Fingers

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: This fic has us traveling back to the off-season last year, to Teddy K's 2023 Memorial Day pool party. Joe had the longer hair, a nice tan (for him 😋), and he was wearing that unbuttoned short-sleeve shirt that had us going feral. See pic below (I cropped/enhanced it, but it's still kinda crap.)

Time/Place: Late May 2023 (Memorial Day week-end) / Cincinnati, Ohio

A/N: This was written for a request I received asking for something smutty featuring Joe's hands (established relationship vibe). I decided on a oneshot where Joe & Reader are engaged & living together in a LTR.

Inspo: (you can't see his hands here, but we know they're hot AF)

Edit: Added two more inspo pics -- top right is in his truck, bottom is in his Porsche (ignore the hoodie for this fic).

Lyrics are from "Slow Hands" by Niall Horan

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Fingertips puttin' on a show Got me now and I can't say no Wanna be with you all alone Take me home, take me home

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You hop out of the car as soon as Joe parks in Ted's driveway, smiling at the group of guys (Joe's teammates) who come out to help y'all carry in the goodies you brought for the party; you greet the other WAGS as you enter the kitchen, shaking your head as the guys immediately run off to the backyard to jump in the pool and act up, leaving y'all to get the cocktails and snacks ready.

~ ~ ~

Thirty minutes later, you're sprawled on a lounge chair poolside, your eyes going wide behind your sunglasses when you feel a big, wet hand on your thigh.

"Need another drink?" Joe purrs, leaning down far enough to nestle his lips against your ear.

"Ummm, no thanks," you grin, nodding at your mostly-full margarita. "I've barely started on this one."

"Well, hurry up," he teases. "I know what tequila does to you."

You stick your tongue out at him as he takes two steps back before spinning around and diving in the pool, a dirty smirk adorning his full lips as he surfaces and slings his wet hair out of his face, his long fingers pushing the dirty-blonde locks back as he gives you a loaded look.

~ ~ ~

Forty minutes later, you ease off of your lounge chair and head toward Joe, glancing down to make sure your boobs are still fully contained in the teal bikini top you're wearing as you approach the table where he's playing cards with a few of the guys; you lick your lips as you take in his short-sleeve shirt, unbuttoned and splayed open in a way that showcases his chiseled torso.

His gaze settles on you as you walk toward him; his eyes are unreadable as they're hidden behind his Cartier shades, but his lips curl up in a way that let's you know he's enjoying the view. "Hey babe," he greets you.

"Hey," you echo, walking to stand behind him for a few heartbeats as he shuffles and deals, his long, agile fingers expertly handling the cards in a way that makes your toes curl. "You need anything?" you ask as you grip his shoulder, your voice a little more breathless than you intended.

"I'm good," he replies, "but why don't you sit and watch a few hands," he continues, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you down on his lap. "Okay," you murmur, smiling at the other guys seated at the table before returning your attention to Joe's hands and forearms as he smoothly manipulates the cards, his summer tan creating a nice contrast that sets off his blonde arm hair. You squirm a little as a naughty thought hits you, biting your lip when his thick thigh flexes under your butt in a way that seems totally intentional.

You watch him win four hands in a row before planting a kiss on his cheek and standing up, throwing him a look over your shoulder as you walk back to your lounge chair.

~ ~ ~

A little while later, as you're sitting on your lounge chair talking with the other WAGS, you hear a loud yell; you quickly look up to see the guys running around in the grassy yard behind the pool, tossing a football around while playfully shoving each other. While you watch, Joe hollers something at Ja'Marr who takes off running, easily sprinting away from his defender then looking back at the perfect time to catch a pass from Joe.

You smile when Joe immediately looks in your direction to see if you saw the absolute dime he just dropped; it was a perfect spiral, spanning the entire width of the very large backyard before hitting Ja'Marr in stride as he sprinted into the 'end zone'.

"That was a dime!" you holler, clapping your hands a few times before giving Joe a thumbs up. He takes a quick bow, a huge smile on his face as Ja'Marr runs up and hands the ball back to him, bouncing with energy as Joe leans close to call his next route.

You watch the guys play for about twenty minutes before rolling onto your stomach, your breath catching in your throat a few minutes later when you feel Joe's hand on your bare back.

"Let me rub some sunscreen on you," he offers, his voice teasing your senses as he grabs the bottle of coconut-scented sunscreen sitting on the pool deck beside your chair, squirting a dollop in his hand before slowly massaging it into your heated skin.

You grip the edge of your lounge chair and enjoy the feel of his strong hands on your back and legs, your pulse pounding at the noise he makes low in his throat when you spread your legs a little as he dips his fingertips just under the elastic of your bikini bottom, both of you knowing exactly what would happen if y'all were alone.

~ ~ ~

Later that night -- just after sunset -- you take the last bite of your second taco followed by the last sip of your second margarita, smiling at Joe as he digs a tortilla chip into a fat mound of guacamole before offering it to you, his eyes on your mouth as you open wide for him.

"Sooo good," you moan after you chew and swallow, grinning when he holds your empty marg glass up and gives it a shake. "One more?" he asks. "I'm already tipsy," you admit, opening your mouth as he offers you another guac-loaded chip with his free hand. "Half a glass?" he asks. "You're not driving," he continues.

You slowly chew and swallow the tasty bite in your mouth, studying his face for a sec before responding. "Half a glass," you agree, giggling when he hops up to go get your cocktail.

He comes back a few minutes later, handing you the partially-filled glass as he sits beside you. "There's a line of thunderstorms headed this way, so we'll need to leave a little earlier than we planned," he states, watching your lips as you take a hearty gulp of your cocktail.

"Oh darn," you faux pout, grinning when he leans forward and presses his lips against your ear. "Can't wait to get you alone," he murmurs, squeezing your thigh before leaning back and giving you a look you feel in your core. "If you keep looking at me like that," you whisper, "we're gonna be leaving in about thirty seconds."

"Hey Joe?" Ted hollers, breaking the porny spell; Joe turns his head to see what's up, grinning when Ted waves him over to help cut the watermelons. "Be right there," Joe hollers, giving you a sheepish look before dropping a quick kiss on your lips. "This won't take long," he mutters, rushing off as you take another sip of your tangy drink.

You finish your drink before following him, slowly walking up to the table they're cutting watermelons on.

Watching your man cut a damn watermelon shouldn't feel like foreplay, but here we are, you think to yourself, taking a slice as Joe hands it to you, your eyes following a rivulet of pink juice as it runs down the long length of his middle finger.

"Thanks," you whisper, taking a bite and chewing slowly as you watch him finish cutting the wedges before grabbing his own slice, biting into it while making eye contact with you.

Oh, this if def foreplay, you think to yourself, holding eye contact with him as he devours the sweet, pink flesh, his sinful lips curling up in a dirty grin as the juice drips down his chin.

~ ~ ~

After helping with clean up and telling everyone good-bye, y'all get in the Porsche and pull out of the driveway, hoping to make it home before the storm hits.

"Did you have a good time?" Joe asks, throwing you a smile just before he turns onto the highway, quickly picking up speed as the first few raindrops hit the windshield.

"I had a great time," you sigh, turning your head to look at him, your eyes lingering on his profile for a bit before focusing on his left hand gripping the steering wheel; you squirm in your leather seat as the streetlights slide by in intermittent flashes, highlighting the prominent veins and tendons as they snake down his sinewy forearm into his hand.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, flicking the windshield wipers on as the rain picks up.

"Something I've thought a million times before," you answer.

"Tell me."

"I've told you a million times before."

"Tell me again," he urges.

"You have ridiculously sexy hands," you murmur. "I mean, you have ridiculously sexy everything, but especially your hands. I've been perving on them all day."

"I know," he admits, flashing you a quick grin as he reaches over and wraps his right hand around your thigh, giving a light squeeze before continuing. "You've told me you're turned on by watching me shuffle and deal cards, so I made sure to give you a show today."

"You're a shameless tease," you pout playfully, watching his hand as it inches up your thigh.

"It's not teasing if I'm gonna deliver the goods," he purrs, the cocky smirk on his face quickly replaced by a look of concern as y'all crest a hill and start down the other side. "What the hell?" he grumbles, the tone of his voice making you quickly turn your head to look at the road, eyes going wide at the sight of traffic stopped completely and the flashing lights of several emergency vehicles.

"Looks like a bad wreck," you mutter, grabbing your phone to check a traffic app as Joe slows down and finally stops the car, the rain coming down even harder as you read the latest alert. "It's a jackknifed big rig," you sigh. "It's blocking both lanes, but they expect to have it cleared in ten or fifteen minutes. Good news is there aren't any injuries."

"Just some dumbass driving too fast on slick roads," Joe grumps, taking a deep breath and checking his rearview mirror as another car comes to a stop behind y'all. "This fucking sucks," he groans, taking his left hand off the steering wheel to rake his fingers through his hair in agitation.

"It's okay," you soothe. "We just need to have a little patience."

"Fuck patience," he scoffs, making eye contact with you while slipping his right hand under the hem of your dress (a stretchy, pull-on strapless teal minidress you're wearing as a cover-up). "We've got at least ten minutes to have some fun before traffic starts moving again," he continues, grinding his fingertips against your clit through the slinky fabric of your bikini bottom, his tongue slowly sliding along his plump bottom lip as you instinctively arch your hips up into his touch. "Take these off," he orders, tugging on the elastic waistband as your eyes go wide in surprise.

"Maybe we should wait 'til we get home," you mutter. "What if someone sees what we're doing?"

"We can barely see the brake lights of the car in front of us, much less actually see into the car. There's no way anyone can see us any better."

You turn your head to look out the windshield, confirming that you can't see much due to the darkness and the heavy rain pouring down. "Okay," you whisper, quickly kicking off your flip-flops before sliding your bikini bottom off, your core clenching in anticipation at the sensual promise in his request.

As soon as you lean back in your seat, his hand is under your skirt, his fingers teasing your slick folds as you spread your thighs to accommodate him. "So wet for me," he groans, dipping a finger just inside to gather moisture before sliding back up to play with your clit, rubbing lazy circles while you squirm against his hand. "I've been wet for you all day," you admit, your voice sounding breathless and needy, your pulse pounding as he adds a little more pressure to your aching nub.

After a few minutes, his talented fingers have you close to climax, with his hot gaze and dirty talk helping push you toward the edge; as you squeeze your eyes closed and lean into the feel of your impending orgasm, his voice breaks through your pleasure-fogged brain.

"Shit … traffic's moving," he grits out, taking his foot off the brake and rolling forward, slowly at first then picking up speed. You press your thighs together, squeezing his hand between them and wanting to yell at the frustration of being so close to bliss and then having it snatched away.

"Relax," he soothes, left hand gripping the steering wheel and his eyes firmly on the rain-slick highway and the traffic in front of him. "Spread your legs for me," he urges.

"Is this dangerous?" you whisper, spreading your legs as he continues to tease your clit with his fingertips, massaging you with just enough pressure to make you scoot lower in your seat and tilt your hips up, your body silently begging for more.

He flicks a quick glance at you before returning his attention to the road. "No, it's not dangerous," he states. "The rain is slacking off and traffic is thinning out," he continues, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine as he slides his fingers lower, teasing your entrance for several heartbeats before sliding inside.

You bite your bottom lip and grab his forearm with both hands, digging your fingers into his warm skin as you lift your right leg and prop your bare foot against the dash, both of you groaning when the new angle allows his long fingers to slide deeper inside you. "Don't stop," you beg, looking down to watch him finger you while he grinds the heel of his hand against your clit, his forearm muscles flexing and rippling as he continues to pleasure you.

A minute later, your climax hits so hard your entire body shakes as you squeeze your eyes closed, your back bowing away from the seat as the waves of pleasure roll through you, his fingers continuing to stroke you through the orgasm as you whimper his name.

You eventually flutter your eyes open and realize he's exited the main highway, and the car is now at a complete stop at the end of the exit ramp. You turn your head and lock eyes with him, your breath catching in your throat at the look on his face as he pulls his fingers out of you and slowly lifts them toward his lips, the glow from the streetlights illuminating the sheen of your arousal on his long fingers; he gives you a wink as he slides them in his mouth, licking and sucking them in a way that's got you ready to jump naked and straddle him.

"You need to hurry up and get us home," you whisper, squirming in your seat as he gives a quick nod and looks both ways before easing out into the sparse traffic on the road leading to your neighborhood.

You take a few deep breaths to calm your hammering pulse, your gaze flicking between his sexy profile and his hand gripping the steering wheel. Fuck it, you think, reaching over to palm his erection through his swim trunks. I can't wait another second to touch him.

He inhales sharply as you run your thumb the length of his hard shaft several times. "You a little impatient?" he asks, his grin cocky and his voice husky with arousal.

"More than a little," you admit, removing your seatbelt as he finally turns onto the street y'all live on; you lean across the center console, dropping a kiss on his neck before giving it a lick, the salty taste of his sweat making you more lightheaded than the tequila you drank earlier. "I'm a little tipsy, too," you purr, licking him again, your pulse reacting when you feel him swallow hard.

"I know," he states. "Can you do me a favor?" he continues.

"Yeah."

"Get naked for me."

"Right now?"

"Yeah. Right now."

"Yes, sir," you breathe, dropping back into your seat as he makes the turn into your driveway; you shimmy out of your cover-up and bikini top just as he pulls into the garage and throws the car in park. He glances over his shoulder, making sure the automatic garage door fully closes before stripping his shirt off and tossing it on top of your discarded clothes.

"I smell like sweat and coconuts," you giggle, giving your armpit a sniff as he shoves his swim trunks down to mid-thigh, freeing his erection.

"You're about to smell like sex," he growls, patting his thick thighs before reaching for you, helping you crawl across the center console to straddle his lap; you watch as he grips his cock and lines it up with your entrance, your hands clutching his shoulders as you impale yourself on him, whimpers spilling from your lips at the delicious stretch as you slowly take every inch of him to the hilt.

"You feel so fucking good," he groans, letting his head fall back against the headrest, a hiss escaping his pretty lips when you hit a Kegel on him. "You got me red-lining already, baby," he rasps. "Don't push it."

You give him a naughty grin just as the garage light cuts off, plunging y'all into darkness. "Shit, hold on a sec," he grumbles, leaning forward and hitting a button that turns the light back on before cupping his hands over your breasts, sliding his thumbs back and forth over your hard nipples several times before gently pinching and tugging them in a way that sends a rush of liquid heat into your core.

You start riding him as he continues to tease your nipples, managing a few good thrusts before the alcohol and dopamine in your system let you know it's a bad idea. "Damn, this might be a bad position," you whisper. "I'm a little dizzy and my legs are super shaky from that mind-blowing orgasm you gave me."

"Let me help," he offers, wrapping both hands around your hips, his strong fingers digging into your flesh as he lifts you up and down, doing most of the work for you as you lean forward and nestle your lips against his neck.

"You're so strong," you purr, rubbing your hands over his muscular arms and smiling as he tightens his grip, bouncing you even harder on his cock when you dig your fingernails into his broad shoulders and latch your lips onto his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a love bite.

The small interior of the car creates an intimate cocoon where every sound is amplified, especially the sound of heavy breathing and the lush sound of him pounding into your wet heat, your bodies slapping together on every thrust.

"I'm close," you eventually whine, gasping when he tilts your hips forward, changing the angle to hit your sweet spot as he bucks up into each thrust, his grunts sending sizzles of heat down your spine as you slide a hand into his hair and give it a tug.

A few more thrusts and your climax hits so hard it literally takes your breath away, the pleasure overriding everything else as your walls contract hard around his thrusting cock until he explodes inside you, both of you groaning at the sensation as your core continues to pulsate around him, milking him dry.

Several minutes elapse before he speaks up. "That was crazy hot," he pants, his hands rubbing up and down the length of your trembling thighs for a bit before coming to rest on your plump butt.

"Cr … crazy hot," you finally manage, leaning back to meet his gaze, both of you chuckling at how fucked out you look. "I don't think I can walk," you admit. "My legs feel like jelly."

"You don't need to walk," he soothes, opening his car door and gently helping you out, holding onto your waist as he steps out beside you and hitches his swim trunks up with his free hand. He pushes the car door closed before picking you up bridal-style, giving you a grin as he walks toward the entry door. "I think I'll ask Ted to host another pool party before the season starts," he states.

You giggle at the look on his face. "You had a good time, huh?"

"Hell yeah, and we're not done yet," he purrs, easily holding you with one arm while dropping a hand down to open the entry door before flicking the garage light off. You give his bare shoulder a playful bite as he steps into the house, a swarm of butterflies taking flight in your stomach as he graces you with a filthy wink before kicking the door closed and striding for the stairs.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow oneshot

379 notes · View notes