#he’s so pretty i can’t even look at him right now
Note
hotch's little sister x spencer perhaps?
—Hotch’s sister graduates college, and Spencer is immediately smitten. fem, 1.6k
“She’s pregnant.” Emily shakes her bag of chips around. “But it’s not his baby.”
Spencer frowns down at his sandwich. Rye bread is hard to cut, and the plastic knife isn’t putting up a good fight. “That’s awful,” he says. “He must be heartbroken.”
“He’s distraught. Now he can’t decide if he wants to stay and raise the new baby with their first, or leave her and have split custody.”
“What channel did you say it was on?”
“It’s on NightDrama. I’ll find out the number.”
Emily folds the empty packet of chips into a rectangle, then that rectangle into a triangle, folding the edges inside of a fold to create a parcel perfect for flicking at him. Spencer waits for it, tensing, but what he sees behind Emily steals his attention.
She whips her head to follow him.
You are, as Spencer watches you walk in, without a doubt one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. And it’s not like you’re a model, you don’t walk with any such confidence, but it strikes him immediately. You’re pretty. And he’s never seen you in the office before.
They get visitors occasionally but the majority of people so deep into this office would've been checked at security and cleared to come up here. You hold a visitors badge in your hand, which you promptly clip onto your shirt when you see people looking at you. Your frown makes you prettier. Something about the way you stand seems familiar, but Spencer can’t put his finger on what it is.
“Should we go help?” Emily asks.
“Who do you think she’s for?” Spencer asks back. He’s thinking you’re here to speak to JJ. They have people like this occasionally who JJ knows from past cases, drifting in on a hope that there’s more detail to be found.
Emily stands up from her chair. Spencer follows suit. When you see her facing toward you, some of your apprehension melts into relief.
“Hi,” you say breathily, summoning a smile that, again, seems familiar. Not in looks, but practise, maybe.
“Hi there, can we help? You look lost,” Emily says.
She sounds more friendly than Spencer could’ve hoped to achieve. He doesn’t even wanna think about it, from how pretty you are he would’ve stumbled over even the most basic hello.
“I’m here to see Aaron Hotchner. He told me his office is up the stairs, is that still one of these ones,” —you nod gently at the stairs that do, in fact, lead to his office— “or somewhere else?”
“That’s the right one, the very first door.”
“Okay,” you give a soft laugh. “Thank you. This place makes me nervous.”
You leave to travel up the steps. Emily and Spencer watch without any casualness as you approach Hotch’s office door, and give a little knock.
It’s more surprising to see it tugged open so quickly after. Hotch usually says, “Come in.”
“Oh, you’re here,” Hotch says. It’s to Spencer’s shock and Emily’s clear joy when he leans in for a hug. The bearhug kind, no politeness or manners about their intimidating boss as his arms cross behind your shoulders and he pulls you in. “You’re late.” He squeezes you.
You let it happen. “I hate your building.”
“What the hell?” Emily whispers.
“I’m so happy to see you. Come on, come in, I ordered lunch for us already.”
Emily is shameless. She takes Spencer by the wrist and encourages him to the wall below Hotch’s office as he ushers you inside. The door remains ajar, perfect for snooping, and Spencer doesn’t know what it is but he lets Emily drag him forward anyhow.
“If that’s his girlfriend, he should be ashamed,” Emily whispers.
Spencer raises his brows. “Did you think that was romantic?”
“I’ve never seen him show affection to anyone who wasn’t Haley, and when was the last time she was here?”
Spencer tosses it around in his mind. Sure, it was quite affectionate by Hotch’s standards, but the hug was so… uncareful. He’d grabbed you and hugged you like he was gonna shake you around for fun, like a dad hugs his daughter. “How old is Hotch?” Spencer asks.
“You don’t think that’s his secret kid.”
“No,” Spencer says, though he sort of does.
Emily gestures for him to hush as your laugh drifts down from the office. “You did?” you’re asking. “It’s so nice to be home.”
“Of course I did. It’s like I promised, okay? You finished college like I asked you too, you’ve done so well, and now I’m gonna make sure you’re happy. Like I tried to do for Sean.”
“Sean,” you sigh. “He didn’t even answer my grad card.”
“I don’t know what to say about him, I really don’t.”
A small pause. “Well, at least you answered.”
“You know I would’ve come to watch you walk–”
“But you couldn’t. It’s fine, Aaron, I wasn’t really expecting you to make it.”
“I’m sorry. Really. And I’m proud of you, after everything.”
“Thank you… The bag was better than you being there anyways. Coach?” You laugh breathily. “My friends keep asking me if you can be their big brother too.”
Emily and Spencer turn to each other, mouths agape, Emily slapping his arm as they struggle to make no noise. Since when does Aaron have a sister? A young sister freshly graduated?
Hotch laughs too. “Come and sit before your lunch gets cold.”
Emily gets out her phone to text Morgan, she and Spencer pressed to the wall with their heads ducked. Hotch is a total enigma, because what the hell sort of secret is that?
When Morgan appears, it’s with all the answers. He rolls his eyes at their clear position of eavesdropping but leans against Emily’s desk to give them the information they’re craving anyways. “She’s adopted. Hotch was already in college at the time, but they’re close. They get along a lot better than Hotch does with Sean, that’s for sure.”
“He sounds protective,” Emily says, side-eying the office.
“Look, it’s not my business, but I just know it was bad when she was a teenager. Hotch is a drill sergeant for a reason.” Ah, Spencer thinks. The Hotchner father.
Spencer picks at his hands. It explains the conversation he shouldn’t have been listening to, to a degree. He feels the guilt of knowing something he wasn’t meant to like a sodden weight, retreating swiftly to his desk and his forgotten sandwich.
It’s nice to hear Hotch laughing, but it’s your laugh that draws him in again while he tries so hard not to listen. It’s as attractive to Spencer as your frown had been when you walked in. He thinks about how you finished college, how you’re here, and he wonders if he’ll see more of you —how often will you come in for lunch? Spencer checks his hair in his sleeping monitor and feels like an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” Hotch says a little while later, elbowing open the door with his back to the office, “we’ll have dinner soon, honey, I promise.”
You reach up to give him another quick hug. “It’s fine. It’s just nice to be in the same city again.”
Hotch guides you down to the bullpen with the same pride with which he introduced Jack. It’s unmissable, the love he has for you in just one touch against your shoulder. “Y/N,” he says, pausing at the bullpen, “Derek Morgan you’ve met. This is Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid.”
“Spencer Reid?” you ask suddenly, looking up into Hotch’s face like he’s lying, your brows pulled together in indignation, before you turn back to Spencer reverently. “You’re Dr. Spencer Reid?”
He gets caught on his own breath. “Uh, yes?”
“The Dr. Spencer Reid who wrote Methods of Continued Fraction Expansions?”
Spencer feels heat like a kiss to each cheek. “Yes.”
You turn to Hotch with a suspicious pout. “When I told you about the paper I was reading by a Dr. Reid a few months ago, you didn’t stop to think it could be your Dr. Reid? Or you just don’t like me?”
That’s a sister’s scorn if Spencer’s ever heard it.
“I thought you said Rain.”
“I don’t think you did.” You turn back to Spencer. “I can’t believe it, I emailed you about Jacobi elliptical functions, you were so helpful, I owe you my degree.” You put your hand out with a beaming, beautiful smile, Spencer’s stomach totally flips. “It’s amazing to meet you in person.”
He’s a germaphobe, he is, and that doesn’t just go away when you meet someone lovely, but he shakes your hand. You surprise him too quickly to think beyond taking your hand letting it happen. You’re, like, glowing.
Hotch gives him a funny look. Mostly impassive, but not quite.
Spencer abruptly lets you go. “I don’t think you would’ve needed my help to get there in the end. You clearly knew what you were doing.”
Hotch’s eyebrows silently rise.
You turn back to Hotch again, your smile catching. “I like your friends.”
He smiles. “Let me walk you down to the lobby, honey.”
You let him guide you away, giving the present members of the BAU a wave with just your fingers before you go.
Morgan and Emily look at him heavily. “Spencer,” Emily says. “What was that?”
He doesn’t want to say what he thinks it was, so he doesn’t. “She was nice.”
Morgan’s laughter is immediate. Spencer has to walk off to the kitchen for a cup of tea he doesn’t drink to escape him and the connotation of his laughing. Spencer hopes he’ll see you again soon, though if he’s half a good a profiler as he thinks he is, he might end up in trouble with your brother.
#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
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✨Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star✨
Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader
A/N: I do not know what came over me, but this was heavily inspired after watching Sabrina Carpenter’s “Espresso” Coachella performance. This one shot took over my whole Saturday and Sunday! Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for helping me with a title and the mood board and for being my beta! 🩷 This is both in Joel and reader’s POV. Comments and reblogs make my day. Enjoy, lovelies!
Summary: You’re performing at Coachella, throwing winks and flirting with your eyes as Joel Miller watches you from the side of the stage. He’s your bodyguard, and he should know better, but he wants you just as much as you want him.
Word Count: 8.1k
Rating: 18+ Only MDNI
Tags: Fluff, flirting, pining, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, cute pet names, unprotected p in v, switching POVs, reader is a singer, Joel is a bodyguard, reader has long hair, large age gap (reader is 25, Joel is 44)
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
The warm sun glows against your glittering skin, the music pumping like sugary coffee running through your veins. The crowd chants along with you, singing every lyric you do while they hold their phones and snap videos while you twirl around to the rhythm of the upbeat song. You flash them big smiles, pose for the camera, sway your hips while your dancers match your cute little moves. You’re exhausted, almost done with your set at Coachella, but the flaming energy of the crowd keeps you going.
You spin around, pop your hip out and wave flirtatiously to Joel at the end of the stairs on the side stage. He shakes his head, chuckling to himself while he tries to act professional. That’s what bodyguards do, right? Stay professional? And he did, he really did, but you liked to tease him just a bit sometimes, get him all riled up if you could.
You see the smug smirk he tries to hide behind that patchy, greying scruff, watch the way those gorgeous honey flecked eyes scan your body. He can try to be coy all he wants, but you’ll call him on his bluff. The man is attracted to you, just like you are to him. But you can’t help it, he’s drop dead gorgeous. The way his grey threaded dark curls catch the sun rays, his ripped muscles cling to the flannels and tight t-shirts he wears on a daily basis, his corded veins spiral down his tanned arms, the way he towers over you every time he stands next to you, his deep Southern drawl that sends you into heat every time he graces you with that thick honey-like voice, and the way he’s so protective over you. But you also can’t forget that he's twice your age, which makes him even hotter.
You shouldn’t want it, want him, but you do. God, you do. At night when you’re in between your silky sheets with your fingers rubbing between your legs, you’re thinking of him. Those big, meaty hands, that rough tongue, his deep, gravelly voice that must sound so sweet filled with dirty words. You can’t help yourself, you want Joel Miller, your bodyguard.
He watches you strut the lit up stage, the sparkles on your pink dress catching the flecks of his wandering eyes. He thinks you look so gorgeous twirling around in that short tease of a dress. Every time you bend over or spin around, he can see those skimpy short shorts that barely cover the globes of your ass. You like the attention though, love to tease the crowd just like you’re teasing him now.
He sees the discrete winks you throw his way on the stage, the way you lick those plump, glossy lips that seem to call directly to him. You’re trying to get a reaction out of him. He knows you too well. You may be flirting with the starving crowd who begs for more, but you’re also flirting with him. And he can’t help but get drawn into those beautiful eyes of yours that glisten in the sunlight, can’t help the way his cock is straining against the zipper of his denim jeans right now, precum spilling over the tip thinking about thrusting between those pretty legs of yours. He wants you so fucking badly, and you have no idea.
You twirl your curls flirtatiously around your finger, flipping your hair behind your shoulders while he watches from the corner of the stage, pretending like that’s his hand wrapped around your flowing locks. Another wink his way and he’s mush against the edge of the stage. Maybe you are trying to get a reaction out of him, you just love to tease him, but he loves it just the same. You’re nothing but a little troublemaker.
He thinks about you all the time on those lonely nights on long tours, when he’s under his pristine sheets that graze against his hardening cock. He whispers your name under his breath when he’s stroking himself, pretending his hand is yours gliding over him, spreading precum with your soft hands, your pretty mouth. And when he cums he thinks of your glittering eyes, imagines you encouraging him on while he spills hot ropes of cum all over his soft tummy.
He may feel a little guilty after doing that, those dirty thoughts that swirl in his head night after night, but there’s no way in hell he feels bad about doing it. He’d have you every day if it was up to him. Oh, yes. He’d ravage your body till you had nothing left to give but your own breath that blows gently against his hungry lips. Damned if he does, and damned if he doesn’t. Either way he’s completely fucked.
The end of your routine is drawing close, the last number halfway over while the sun kisses your tanned skin. He knows you’re tired, can see it in the sweat that glistens like diamonds down your dainty arms. He’d go and scoop you up in his arms, let you wrap your own around his neck while he carried you to safety, away from prying vultures in the crowd, but he knows paparazzi would snap those pictures in a heartbeat and cause a scene in the tabloids. The pop princess and bodyguard have a scandalous affair at Coachella together. He scoffs at the thought. Fucking idiots starving for a shiny penny to add to their useless names.
The moment you sing your last line, you wave to the crowd and blow kisses to the rowdy audience. “Thank you, Coachella! See you next year!” They chant your name, begging for one more song, but your time is up. So you exit the stage all smiles with glitter falling to the ground, keeping your glow until you get to the edge of the stage.
Joel’s right there waiting for you, a water bottle and small towel in hand, just like he always does. He looks so good in his tight black t-shirt, sleeves pulling at his bulging biceps while his dark jeans hug his meaty thighs tightly. He always looks so good that you feel dizzy when he takes your hand and helps you down the stairs and off the buzzing stage.
Your breath catches in your throat when he closes his thick, calloused fingers over yours, his honey eyes bright and alert when he hands you the water bottle and dabs your sweaty forehead with the soft towel. You could melt into a puddle right here and now the way he’s looking at you all protective and warm-like.
“You really gave them a show today, darlin’,” he drawls as his dark flecks of warmth serenade you with attention.
“Yeah, you think so?”
“Mhm,” he hums, staying attentive to you while he watches you take a sip of water.
“Did I give you a show, too?” you ask all flirtatiously, batting your long eyelashes up at him as you slide your tongue slowly over your glossy lips, licking off a droplet of water.
His cheeks grow red, eyebrows fusing together as he shakes his head and runs a large hand slowly through those messy curls you so want to run your own fingers through. “C’mon, trouble. Let’s jus’ get you back to the trailer.” He grabs your elbow and drags you through the winding backstage area, dodging cords and other performers that stand in your way.
You follow next to him, quick to stay on his trail while fans scream from the right behind barricades when they see you. Joel pushes you to the left, lingering his large hands on you just a few seconds too long while he works to keep you safe. You know it’s his job, but it turns you on at the sight of him watching out for you, keeping a hand firmly on your arm, making sure no one else touches you but him.
Maybe it’s a lovesick fantasy, a fever dream that you and Joel could be more than this. More than just a bodyguard who’s just doing his job to watch out for you. You feel it, that sexual chemistry when you’re near each other, even in a large crowd that won’t stop screaming your name, demanding pictures and autographs while he pushes them away from your reach. You feel it in his heated stare, the brush of his calloused fingertips on your tanned skin, the devilish smirk he gives you when you tease him or say something you shouldn’t. You know he feels it, too. He has to. He’s just as delusional and lovesick as you. You see it in the glow of those amber eyes. He knows.
“So, you have a free night tonight, huh?” you ask as you keep your fingers curled around the soft fabric of his t-shirt.
“Sure, if you call keepin’ you out of trouble free time,” he chuckles, his brown eyes gazing back toward you, just enough to paint streaks of dark pink over your already blush caked cheeks.
“Me, trouble? Never,” you tease while you flash him a bright smile.
“Oh, you’re trouble alright. But you’re not the one I’m worried about. These Coachella fans can get pretty intense. I’d jus’ feel better if I was watchin’ out for you is all.”
“You don’t want a night off though?”
He looks back toward you and knits his eyebrows together, concern lathered all in those brown doe eyes of his. It makes you weak in the knees. “I’m alright. Besides, you’re not bad company to have.” He nudges you with his elbow and winks your way, completely knocking the breath from you.
Did Joel Miller just say you were good company? A quiet, reserved guy like him likes your company? The one that would rather grab a drink at the bar alone and sit in silence with a good book while no one bothers him? Guess you did have an affect on him afterall.
“Not bad company?” you giggle as you push against his shoulder.
“Not bad at all, darlin’. You’re jus’ the kind I need,” he says with a hidden smirk under that salt-and-pepper scruff you want to drag your fingers through. Yeah, you’re just what he needs.
Suddenly, a screaming fan comes from your left, some psycho that escaped through the wrought iron fence who stomps your way. He charges over to you, calling your name as his spindly fingers close over your arm, his other hand clawing at your pink sparkly dress. “Let me take a picture, please! I love you, I drove hours just to see you sing. Please!”
Joel rips the guy's hands off your body, pinning his hands behind his back against a caged off area while you fight to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest watching Joel being so protective, possessive over you while the fan begs for mercy against Joel’s tight grip.
“Keep your fuckin’ filthy hands off of her! She’s not a toy you can just grab and demand things from. She didn’t give you permission, didn’t ask for you to claw at her dress. So I suggest you walk back out to the general admission area and stay the fuck away from her. Understood?!” His voice sounds like crackling thunder, that deep rugged breath towering over the cowering fan as he makes red marks over the fan’s useless wrists. Joel was just doing his job, one he was damn good at. But he made it look so sexy.
You stare in amazement, blinking through your thick lashes while you watch Joel shove the crazed fan through the fence, warning him to keep his distance or else he’ll wish he never stepped foot into the music festival. You gawk at him, watching the way his muscles flex underneath his t-shirt, watching the scowl across his mouth darken his menacing eyes. He’s a dominant wolf protecting his pack, and his pack is you.
You watch his flared nostrils and harsh eyes soften when he turns and looks at you, one of his large hands coming to clasp around your wrist while he assesses your wide-eyed features. “You okay?”
You nod your head slowly, keeping your gaze on him as he makes sure you’re alright. “Really, I’m fine, Joel. Thank you.”
Before he can manage a reply back to you, blinding cameras start flashing before your eyes, paparazzi swarming you as they just assessed the scene. They throw questions at you, screaming your name while you try to drown out their echoing voices.
You stick like glue to Joel’s side, latching your arms around his strong torso while you hide your face in his t-shirt beneath his shoulder. Joel wraps a protective arm around your back and guides you to safety.
“Get back! She ain’t answerin’ questions right now, she jus’ got off the stage. Leave her alone!” His deep voice hounds them, barking strict orders for them to stay back.
You’re so thankful for Joel right now, your knight in shining armor steering you to safety. The blinding lights start to slowly fade away, the reaching hands and firm demands slipping away once you enter the safe vicinity of your tour trailer.
Joel unfolds you from his safe grasp, turns you around and places one hand gently under your chin as if to say it’s okay, baby girl. They’re gone. He scans your frightened eyes, but you melt into a relaxed state when he looks at you with those concerned honey eyes that swallow you whole.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asks with eyebrows furrowed together in a panicked state.
“I am now. Thanks for saving me. You’re my hero,” you smile as he lets out a sigh of relief and shakes his head.
“Jus’ doin’ my job, sweetheart. Can’t help it that everyone wants a piece of you. Gotta protect the shining star,” he winks, nearly sending you over the edge of the steps to your trailer.
“Well, you’re pretty great at your job, Miller. Best bodyguard ever,” you flirt as you poke him playfully in the chest.
“Alright, little pop star. Why don’t you go relax for a bit? I’ll be out here, be sure to fight off any more paparazzi parasites,” he smiles while he watches you twist the handle and enter your safe haven.
“Joel?” you call before you close the door.
“Hmm?” he asks as he twists around and faces you with gentle brown eyes.
“Go easy on them.”
He just rolls his eyes and shakes his tousled curls off his sweaty forehead. “Sure thing, darlin’. Alright now, go on. Get in there,” he instructs as he nods to your room.
You huff out and slump your shoulders, pretending like it’s the biggest chore in the world. He ticks his jaw and raises an eyebrow at you that tells you he’s not messing around, so you fully oblige his request. “Alright, alright. I’m going,” you sigh.
“Attagirl,” he chuckles.
Your cheeks burn red as he leaves you with the hottest word before you close the door with a jolt. Attagirl. The word rushes through you, straight to your core where you feel a bit of slick build against your sticky lace. How can a man get you turned on with just one word? Well, it’s Joel Miller, and the man can make you wet with the wink of those pretty brown eyes, but Attagirl was next level. It was borderline porn to your ears.
When you hear the click of the door close you take a second to breathe, leaning up against the sealed door while you flick the lights on and try to calm your racing nerves. You assess your pristine room, taking in the white walls hung with pink fairy lights. The glow from your vanity mirror lights up the little corner where your sparkly makeup sits neatly together. The pink velvet sectional sits up against the middle of the wall where a picture of Marilyn Monroe hangs right above that. Soft pink colors cover the room, and you feel suddenly at ease in the protection of your trailer.
You meander toward the vanity mirror, assessing your perfect makeup that still stays intact on your glowing face. The sparkling pink eyeshadow mixes in with the sharp wings of black eyeliner that frames your soft eyes. Shimmery pink lip gloss coats your plump lips, and the blush stands out against your tanned skin. Your spiral curls flow gently over your shoulders, and your sparkly dress hugs all your curves in the right places.
You suddenly want to be free of your costume, wanting to throw on a pair of cutoff jean shorts and an oversized t-shirt. When you turn your back to the mirror and try to unzip your dress, it gets stuck just a couple inches from the top.
“Oh, come on. Work with me.” You fight the zipper again, tugging with all your might until you grit your teeth together and curse under your breath. This is not what you need right now. You want out of this dress, out of these high heels, out of these smothering tights.
You stomp your heel into the plush carpet, folding your arms across your cleavage as you decipher just what to do. Lacy, your assistant, is tied up in important meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near your little trailer. Your makeup artist is busy helping other performers, so you have no other options. Joel is the only one…
You gulp, take a long look at your flushed cheeks just thinking of having Joel Miller unzip your dress. It’s harmless, really, but not if he’s doing it. That would only lead to one thing. Giving into pure desire, temptation, need.
“Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, “if a show is what he wants, then a show is what he’ll get.”
You tiptoe to the door, hovering your hand over the handle as you take a deep breath and breathe in and out slowly. It’s just a zipper, only a zipper. He could always say no, leave you stranded while you’re stuck in your dress the entire evening. He wouldn’t do that though, leave you helpless while you fight to rip the tight dress off your body. He just wouldn’t allow that. No way.
You take one more deep breath and open the door slowly, slipping your head out as you see Joel standing at the bottom of your trailer steps. You clear your throat and watch him turn his head quickly in your direction, leaving his guard wide open as he assesses your distressed face. “Umm, Joel. Can you do me a favor?”
His eyebrows knit together while his eyes glaze over your body. “What is it, darlin’?” His doe eyes lean into yours, and you can barely muster up any words while he looks at you like that, all caring and deep.
“Well, my zipper got stuck in the back, and I can’t get it down. Do you think you can help?” you ask shyly, your eyes looking up nervously through your long lashes.
“Uhh, where’s Lacy? I can go grab her, let her help ya out.”
“No!” You reach out an arm and grab his wrist tightly, watching his brown eyes widen at your sudden contact on his tanned skin.
“No?” he asks confused, his breath picking up underneath his dark t-shirt.
“I mean, she’s in meetings for the rest of the afternoon. She’s nowhere near the trailer. And I’m awfully uncomfortable in this tight dress. Do you think you can just come in really quick and help?”
He gulps down a breath, his heartbeat picking up incredibly fast while he looks into your gorgeous eyes. How can he say no to that? He can’t, so he won’t. He rakes a hand slowly through his greying scruff and nods your way.
“‘Course I’ll help, sweetheart. C’mon then.” He places a hand gently on your lower back and leads you into the glowing lights of the trailer, letting the door close with a bang as he guides you to the middle of the room.
“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he asks nicely as you oblige and turn your back toward him.
He looks at your undone zipper, sees where it’s stuck in the pink fabric of the dress. Of course he’d be the only one around to help you, of all things a fucking stuck zipper on you. He has no resistance when it comes to you, he just can’t say no to that pretty face of yours.
“Zipper’s jus’ caught in the fabric. Should just take a little tugging,” he says with gritted teeth, pulling on the zipper while he holds the silky fabric tight with his other hand.
After a few seconds of fighting the dress, he gets it free of the catching fabric. He slowly unzips the back of your sparkling dress, going ever so slowly as if not to make a single sound. The only sounds he hears are your quick breaths, the beating of his own racing heart, and the noise of tugging you free of the suffocating, tight dress.
He watches it stop at the end of your curvy hips, catching the way your skin seems to shimmer as your flawless skin comes into his line of vision. He sees the way the dress falls open in the back, your skin begging to be touched, to be stroked as it beckons him closer and closer until he’s hovering above your hot skin.
He knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t hover over the glow of your exposed skin, but it’s almost sinful not to touch you when the glitter of your undertones calls directly to him. He gives in, stealing just a touch as he rubs his fingers slowly down your spine.
You squirm beneath his touch, tingling sensations running wildly down your skin with each touch he takes from you. You ravish in it, holding your breath while he takes his time dipping across the curve of your back.
He leans into you, ghosting his lips across your neckline while he breathes you in deep. He smells the vanilla scent of your perfume, lilac breezing through your soft curls, and can even smell the cherry flavor of your glittery lip gloss. You must taste so good, he can already feel your soft lips against his while he takes his other hand and moves your curls over the left side of your shoulder.
You turn your head back gradually, exposing the veins in your slender neck while it gives him access to dip his lips against the curve of your neck. “Joel,” you whisper out, your insides shaking as the hand on your back sinks down to the curve of your hip.
He can’t respond, too lost in your delicious scent while his hand dances against the silk of your tempting skin. He’s a bad man, putting himself in this vulnerable position where he’s alone with you, with your zipper completely down and your dress barely holding itself against your perfect body.
He should go back outside, stay away from your midnight eyes, your luscious locks, your sweet smelling perfume, but he can’t. He just can’t. He’d rather die than to leave you alone now, untouched, not taken care of. He’s your bodyguard, he’s paid to take care of you. So he will, in every way that he can. He’ll have his way with you. If your zipper can be fixed then who's to say that ache between your legs can’t, too?
He spins you around, your chest pressed flush against his while he slowly backs you up against the wall, caging you in with his strong arms while he breathes in your sweet vanilla scent that drives him wild. He sees the cleavage practically spilling from the top of your undone dress, wants to fucking rip it to shreds until there’s nothing left but your glowing skin under the tips of his pressing fingers.
He takes a hand and pushes back a strand of curls behind your ear, lingering his thick fingers along your jawline while you breathe in the woodsy mahogany smell, his expensive cologne that you could lather yourself in just to smell like him. He’s so close that he could lean down and press his lips to yours, so close that you could twist your fingers through those lush curls that you so desperately want to meld your fingers to.
You’ve never been this close to him before, to where you can see just how pretty and clear his brown flecked eyes are. You’re driving yourself into dangerous territory, but you don’t care. No one’s here to stop you from making any mistakes, and Joel is not a mistake.
He hovers over you, dragging his lips against your jawline and stopping at the shell of your ear, lingering there while his meaty hands dig into the curve of your hips. “We shouldn’t… I shouldn’t,” he says with gritted teeth, painfully dragging out the words while he tickles the shell of your ear with his plush lips.
“Why not?” you whine pathetically as you place a hand under his shirt, making him jump while you graze over the happy trail that leads underneath his jeans. It makes a deep groan slip from his throat.
“I’m twice your age. You jus’ turned twenty-five, I’m pushing forty-five. I’m your bodyguard. I should be more respectful, shouldn’t give in to a pretty thing like you,” he murmurs as he feels his cock hardening beneath the denim of his jeans.
“I don’t care that you’re older or that you’re my bodyguard,” you mumble as your fingers tug the leather belt free from his jeans.
He groans, licking the edge of your ear while he fights to find an ounce of control in his desperate body. He finds none. “We shouldn’t, darlin’. It’d be irresponsible on my part. What if the paparazzi found out? They’d turn the headlines into a hell of a mess. Hell, your publicist would kill me,” he says defeatedly while his hands stay glued to your hips.
“I don’t care what my publicist says, I don’t care about the paparazzi. I know what I want, Joel. I know you want it, too. Just as much as I do.”
He groans against you, doing his best to resist you, but he can’t. He’s a weak man for you, and he’ll give in with the snap of your fingers. He’s got no fight left in him, he’s all yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart? You want this? Want me?”
You grip tighter to his jeans, dragging his hips flush against yours as you feel the swell of his cock through the denim. He’s so fucking big, and you haven’t even seen him yet. “Yes, Joel. Please. Want you, only you,” you stifle out a moan as his lips trail against your neck, gently nipping and sucking against your sensitive areas while his hands ghost over the curve of your breasts.
“God, I can’t say no to you, gorgeous. You don’t even know what you do to me every time I see you up on that stage, singin’ with that angelic voice of yours, dancin’ around all flirtatiously while you make me so fuckin’ hard beneath my jeans.”
You groan at his filthy words, letting him spread your legs while one of his parts your legs wider. One hand trailing up your inner thigh while his other slowly pulls against the top of your pink dress. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this for so long, how much I’ve wanted to press my face between those thick thighs of yours,” he groans as he trails his lips against the cleavage of your dress.
“Probably just as long as I’ve wanted you to,” you pant out as he tugs at the hem of your dress.
“Yeah, s’that right?” he teases, dragging his teeth lower down your breasts.
“Mhm. Joel, fuck. Taste me, touch me, fuck me,” you beg as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“Fuck you, hmm? That what you want?” he teases while he slowly pulls your dress free, hearing it drop to the floor when all you’re left in is your shorts and tights.
“Yes, please. Want you, need you to touch me. Do it, Joel. Please,” you whine, twisting your fingers around the curls around the base of his neck.
He chuckles out, sucking in a breath as he fully obliges your request. “Alright, pretty pop star. If that’s what you want, how can I say no to you?”
He leaves you with no warning, cupping one breast in his large palm while he sucks on your other one, running his tongue in circles until your nipples are pebbled and swollen beneath his tongue, his mouth, his hands. He does the same to the other one, languidly sliding his tongue over the pebbled bud while he massages your breasts with his calloused fingers.
He bathes in your moans, making certain to get you all worked up where he knows you’re already soaking beneath your panties. That’s where he wants you wet, begging for him to touch you.
“Joel,” you whine, feeling his fingers fall free from your pebbled breasts.
“I know, baby. I know. Don’t worry, gonna take care of my girl.”
Before you can speak, he cups your face and sinks his plush lips against the gloss of yours, melding his mouth to yours while he tastes the cherry flavor of your lip gloss. You part your lips for him, inviting him in as you feel him lick feverishly into your mouth. Your tongues dance together in unison, allowing him to tangle his with yours while he revels in your pretty moans against his hungry mouth. He’s starving for you, absolutely famished while he takes and takes from you, letting his tongue explore the entirety of your open mouth. If you taste this good, just think how absolutely divine you must be between your legs.
His hands roam down to your shorts, slipping his fingers inside the waistband and tugging them free of your skin. You step out of your high heels, kick the pink shorts aside and allow his mouth to break free of yours. You pant tirelessly, watching him kneel between your legs as he starts to run his fingers up and down your thighs.
He looks up at you, his eyes becoming dark pits that consume him whole. He’s feral for you, and he won’t stop till he has every last drop from you. “You have another pair of these?” he asks, nodding to your tights.
“I’ve got a million pairs,” you say out of breath.
He smirks up at you before he tears into the flesh of your tights, ripping them to shreds while one of his large hands meets the lace of your panties. “What about these, hmm? Gonna miss these?”
You shake your head, unable to get a word out as you swallow a whine in the back of your throat. “No?” he asks all deep and gravelly while his thumb traces against the edge of your lace, sliding down to put some pressure between your drenched lips.
You throw your head back and whine, begging him to continue on. “No, Joel. Just take them off, please. Need you,” you breathe out desperately.
“That’s all you had to say, sweetheart.” He takes no time, ripping into the seam of your panties as you watch him split them in half, throwing them in a pile on the floor while his eyes blow wide when he takes in the bare sight of you.
He groans to himself, dragging a finger through your wet arousal, parting you in the middle as he hears the sloshing sounds come from his thumb spreading the wetness all across your dripping core. He inhales you, reveling in the pretty noises you make while he takes his time exploring you, gathering the slick on his calloused fingers as he burns the sight of your messy pussy in the back of his brain.
“Shit, baby. Already so fuckin’ wet for me. This what I do to you, hmm? You always this wet around me?”
“Mhm,” you moan, feeling his fingers pull you apart as more slick pools between your thighs.
“All this for me, goddamn. Ain’t I jus’ the luckiest man alive.” He licks a thick stripe up your core, dragging his tongue to lap up the slick that spills from your insides, making you pant out with need as he makes you come undone. “Don’t worry, baby. Gonna take real good care of this pretty pink pussy. Just sit back, relax, and let me do all the work.”
He doesn’t even give you a chance to breathe, he just dives right in. He takes the flat of his tongue and strokes your folds, working you up and down while he soaks in the sweet taste of you. He hooks one of your pliant legs over his shoulder while you fight to not break already.
He drags his nose through the curls above your mound, sucking your swollen clit into his mouth while he breathes in the sensational musk of your pussy, drinking down your sticky arousal that makes his taste buds come to life. He’s never tasted a pussy this sweet before in his life, never quite experienced the high of such an intoxicating body before. He’s wanted you for so long now, and he never even imagined it’d be this good before.
“Joel,” you moan above him, wrapping your delicate fingers through his messy curls, driving out a deep groan from him by the way you cling to him. He loves the feel of you in his hair, pulling and tugging while you bite your lower lip and moan his name over and over again. It’s like an addictive drug he’s prescribed to, and he needs more, wants more of you.
He slips two digits into your drenched hole, filling you so full while his thick fingers curl and hit that spongy area that makes you see bright lights flash before your eyes. He revels in your moans, eliciting more with every touch and curl of his fingers, with every feverish lick to your messy center.
“Yeah? You like that, baby? Feel good?” Joel purrs while he watches you fall apart beneath his fingers.
“So good, Joel. Want you to - ahhh,” you whine as he pulls your aching bundle of nerves back into his warm mouth, releasing it with a pop as more slick covers his knuckles.
“Mmm, s’that right, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me? C’mon baby girl, go on and soak me,” he purrs.
You feel the white hot sensation taking over, feel his long fingers curl up to hit that spot again and again while he pulls your aching clit back into his mouth. And it feels so fucking good that you just can’t hold on any longer. “Joel, I’m gonna… fuck, I’m coming,” you whine as you release your pent up energy, soaking his knuckles while he works you nice and slow, licking at your core as the slick builds on his tongue, drinking you down till he soothes that aching need in his throat.
You come down slowly, feeling your body go through the tingling sensations that make you feel so alive. You’ve never had it this good before, not before Joel. He’s going to be the end of your demise.
You look down at him between your legs, fingers still curled inside your core while he slowly drags them out of you with a groan from your lips. He pops the digits into his mouth, sucking the sweet release while he moans your name. He looks fucking wrecked, his hair all tousled and messy, wide eyes blown out to black pits that want to devour you whole. The way he’s looking at you makes you think he’s not done with you, and he’s not. Oh no, he’s just getting started.
“Such a good girl for me,” he purrs, sliding his calloused fingers up to your hips while he unhooks your leg from his shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet, baby. Now, c’mere.”
He throws you over his shoulder, a surprised gasp coming from your lips as he takes you over to the velvet couch. He drops you on your hands and knees, not giving you a moment to breathe while he situates himself behind you and spreads your legs wide.
He takes a few seconds to admire your glistening core, sitting back on his heels as he rakes a hand slowly over his greying scruff, taking in the absolute beauty that sits before him. He’s never seen a sight like this that he goes head over heels for, sliding his tongue between his teeth as he whispers how fucking perfect you are.
He groans your name, dragging his thumb up and down your sticky folds while one hand spreads your cheeks wide. He says your name repeatedly, taking in the sight of you in front of him. He thinks you’re so fucking pretty, all messy and dripping just for him. He wants to just slip your scent, your taste into his own cologne, mix the two together until he can only smell you on his body.
He licks at your core, spreading you wide while he devours you whole. He pulls at your glistening clit, languidly circling the swollen bud that calls sinfully to him. He wants to give you all the orgasms, drink you down till you have nothing left to give, curl his fingers inside your heated core, work you over till the only thing you can say is his name through your pretty moans.
He thrives in the musk of you, the taste of your cherry lips, the sweet saltiness of your warm cum. If he could give it a name, he’d call you his special jasmine flower, known to be the sweetest, most fragrant flower in the world. That’s what you are to him. The rarest flower that ever came into his reach, his life.
He licks against your slick folds, working his fingers in and out of your delicious cunt, slurping on your sensitive mound while he drowns it in his own drool, lusting after you until you writhe beneath him and give him another mind blowing orgasm.
“Joel, I’m coming, I’m coming,” you cry, spilling yourself all over his digits and inside his heated mouth. He can’t reply, too busy drinking you down as he groans good girl through the taste of you on his large tongue.
He swallows all the slick between your thighs, holding you up together while your legs shake uncontrollably. You may have fallen apart on his tongue twice, but he still wants more. He’s greedy like that when something belongs to him. You’re his as far as he’s concerned now, and he always takes care of what’s his.
“Joel, wanna… wanna…” you stutter tirelessly, out of breath from the insane orgasm he pulled from your body.
“What do ya need, sweetheart? Use your words,” he coaxes, placing a hand gently at the small of your back as he strokes small circles into the heat of your skin.
“Your cock. Let me suck your cock, make you feel good, too,” you whine out, grinding your teeth together as he gently blows on your aching core.
“Not this time, baby. Later. Gotta take care of you first. This time I wanna have my way with you, want your cum dripping down my tongue, making my cock all messy from your sweet release. Wanna bottle you up and make you my own personal brand of whiskey,” he growls as he pulls his t-shirt over his head and frantically slides his jeans and boxers over his feet, disposing the sweaty material on the ground.
He hisses as he spreads the precum over his shaft, pumping himself a couple times before he grabs your hips and scoots you back, stifling a moan from your mouth as he plunges his massive cock into your throbbing pussy.
“Oh, shit. Joel,” you whine, filling the room with your sweet incantations while he fills you so full of him.
“Yeah? You like that, dirty girl? Takin’ this cock so good, squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight,” he growls, pulling your hair back as your head snaps up, his mouth meeting yours as he licks feverishly inside, swallowing your moans while he continues his frantic thrusts into your weeping pussy.
He pulls out from you, throwing you on your back while he hooks your legs over his shoulders, rutting back inside you as his cock gets covered in your sticky slick. You throw your arms around his neck while he finds your mouth again, licking inside, moaning your name on the tip of his tongue as he speeds up his thrusts inside you.
The sounds are obscene, the wet smacking noises of his hard cock drilling inside your drenched pussy reverberating off the glow of the pristine walls. He releases his mouth from yours, leaning back to take in the gorgeous view that’s you. You’re splayed all over the couch, your perky breasts bouncing up and down with every thrust of his cock, your eyes all glossed over and fucked out while he takes you nice and slow. He thinks you’re a vision, a full on masterpiece that deserves to be displayed in an art gallery, your mouth making that pretty O shape while you chant his name angelically.
“Know you’re close, baby. Squeezin’ me so tight, feels so good,” he moans through the grit of his teeth.
“Joel, I’m gonna… gonna… fuck,” you whine as you feel that all too familiar white hot sensation rush through your entire body.
“Oh yeah, baby. That’s it. Such a good fuckin’ girl. Go on now, soak this cock,” he coaxes.
He watches you fall apart beneath him, beautiful, glossy eyes rolling back as you drag your manicured nails down his back, giving him the prettiest moans as you clench around him and release your cum all down his quivering cock.
“Good girl,” he praises, talking you through your intense orgasm as he quickens the strokes inside you, reaching heights you never could without him, kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. It feels so fucking good, and you just gave him the best three orgasms of your life. You’re exhausted, but you need him to finish. You need him inside you.
Sweat drips off his forehead, ending in his tousled curls as he bares his teeth, barely able to hold on any longer. “Baby, I’m about to cum. I can’t hold on much longer. Where do you want me, sweetheart? Where do you want me to spill?”
“Inside Joel, paint me white inside. Cum inside my pussy, please,” you beg.
He moans as he calls your name, giving you a couple more thrusts before he paints the insides of your thighs white with hot ropes of cum, throwing his head back as he revels in the ecstasy of filling you up with his seed, claiming you as his own.
He pulls out and twists you around, collapsing on his back against the velvet couch while you fall into his chest, his meaty hands holding you tight around the waist while you both come down from your intense orgasmic high. The room smells like sex and sweat, hints of vanilla and cherry flavored lips lingering around the room. It smells like heaven, Joel’s heaven.
Through the sounds of rushed breaths and tired bodies, he reaches up and hooks a strand of loose hair behind your ear, lingering his calloused fingers against your jawline while he assesses the beautiful starlights in your eyes. He thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever laid eyes on, and now you’re all his.
You look at him just the same, memorizing the flecks of dark honey that make up his bright eyes, dragging your fingertips through his salt-and-pepper scruff, letting your other hand glide through his messy tousled curls. He may be your bodyguard who works for you, but now he’s so much more than that. He’s yours, and you’ll never let him go now.
“Still think this was a bad idea?” you ask with a raised brow, challenging him to say anything but yes.
“Too late for asking me that, sweetheart. I changed my mind. You’re jus’ what I needed,” he smiles, the flecks of his eyes shimmering amber as your own eyes sparkle with bliss.
“Glad you came around,” you giggle as he drags his fingers up and down your jawline softly.
“All ‘cause of a fuckin’ broken zipper. You know I can’t stop now, sweetheart? One taste of you and now I’m hooked. Afraid I can’t let you go now.”
You lean into his chest, giving him your best dreamy smile as you trace the ends of a tousled greying curl. “Then don’t. Be mine, Joel.”
“I’m all yours, sweetheart. All yours,” he whispers before he cups your face and brings your head down, meeting the plush of his lips as he kisses you nice and slow.
You melt into him, parting your lips so he can slot his way in, tangling his tongue with yours as you taste yourself in his mouth. You stay like that for minutes, getting lost in his soft touch, his musk, his dreamy eyes. You never want to leave this trailer, never want to be parted from Joel. The only question is, how will you ever be able to keep your hands off him in public?
You lean your head into the crevice of his neck, nestling up to his soft scruff that smells like him. You sigh and tangle your fingers with his while he holds you close to his side. “Guess we won’t see any more performances tonight?”
“I don’t know, baby,” he chuckles underneath you. “Think we need a shower and some food. Maybe take you for round two afterwards. But it’s up to you. We can either stay here or go watch more of the sets tonight. Whatever you want.”
You think it over, but ultimately decide on his first offer. “Mmm, I think I’ll go with the first pick. Rather be here with you, in your arms, where it feels right.”
He sighs, lingering a soft kiss on your cheek as he pushes back a falling curl. “Okay, beautiful. That’s what we’ll do then. You want pepperoni pizza? That’s your favorite, right?”
“Mhm,” you nod. “Sounds perfect.”
He chuckles, the chocolate flecks glistening in his pretty eyes. He looks so dreamy, almost unreal that he's underneath you, his skin glowing from the sight of you. “I’ve wanted you for so long, sweetheart. Can’t believe this is actually happening.”
“I feel the same, Joel. Thought you might’ve caught on sooner with all the flirting I’ve been doing, especially up on stage. I might love getting a crowd pumped up, but there’s nothing more I love than making you blush at the side of the stage.”
He tips his head back and laughs, his voice all deep and gravelly as he flicks his eyes back to you. “Oh, I caught on, darlin’. Figured you were tryin’ to get a reaction out of me, and you did. Now look at us,” he teases, cupping your chin with the palm of his large hand, causing tingles to run down your spine.
“Yeah, just look at us. A pop star and a bodyguard getting off on each other. Thought it’d only happen in my dreams,” you sigh, propping yourself up with your elbow on his sweat covered broad chest.
“Well, baby, it’s real. It happened. Reckon you’re mine now, yeah?”
Your eyes perk up, a huge smile glistening across your shiny lips as you nod your head. “I’m all yours, Joel. As long as you’ll have me.”
“Baby, I ain’t ever gonna let you go now. You’re all mine, and I’m gonna spend my days protectin’ and lovin’ this pretty pop star. That’s what you are, baby. You’re my shining star.”
“And you’re my knight in shining bodyguard,” you giggle.
“Mhm, sure am, doll. And I don’t plan on ever lettin’ you go.”
You fold back into his chest, pressing your lips hungrily against his. Eventually he carries you to the shower, helps wash off all the sweat and slick from earlier, until he takes you to your bed and makes love to you all over again. And it continues throughout the whole night, until both of you are passed out in each other's arms.
This is where you belong, in the arms of your fierce protector, your handsome bodyguard that you’re head over heels for. Your favorite brown eyed keeper.
Tags: @laramc-02 @amyispxnk @sawymredfox @burntheedges @vivian-pascal
@littlevenicebitch69 @keylimebeag @msjarvis @akah565 @milla-frenchy
@aurorawritestoescape @alltheirdamn
#joel miller#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fan fiction#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel x female reader#joel the last of us#no outbreak!joel miller#no outbreak au#tlou fanfiction#joel miller pedro pascal#bodyguard!Joel#joel miller one shot#protective joel
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Bad Things (To You)
Synopsis. Things they just can’t help but do to you in bed that have you feeling too good.
Pairings. Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, bréeding, mating press, oral (female receiving), pússytalking, light pússy-smacking (Toji’s), daddy kínk (Toji’s) cúmplay, squírting, slight exhibitionism (Sukuna’s), bondagé, chokíng, overstím, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 4.4k
A/N. PHEWWWW this was fun, and yeah Geto’s I said what I said.
♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “Just the tip.” Or?
“T-Toji, I don’t think-”
“Shhh, doll. M’not talking to you…” Toji hums, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. Angling his head just right to watch his aching cock between your legs - red, angry, just teasing your sloppy hole - ramming inside at such a filthy pace.
Toji really can’t help but drink in your pretty gasps as he edges you closer and closer to- which orgasm was this again? Hell, he can’t even remember, he’s had you on his thighs - on his mouth - on his fingers. Too drunk off of you and those pretty lil’ moans falling from your lips.
A sinful - flimsy - excuse that had Toji begging to finally put his aching cock in. On his knees, practically with the way he loops two strong arms tighter around your waist. Tight. Reaching down to give your pretty cunt a soft-
Smack!
“Ah! Hngh, what-”
“M’talking to her.”
And you can do nothing but keen, at both the stretch and the way he increases his pace. Giving you such a taunting kiss on the cheek before talking - not to you, no - to your poor pussy.
“Your pretty pussy says she can give cum f’me another time.” he grunts. Still just the tip, but already all sloppy desperation and nonsensical babbles. “I know she can. My good girl, no? Gonna cum on my cock?”
And shit Toji doesn’t think he’s ever been harder than right now. Because one look at you - all teary and gasping deliciously around him, bucking your hips for- mercy? More? has Toji wanting to cum right here. To just plunge his throbbing cock into you and add to that absolutely filthy pool of precum on the sheets below.
But no. He promised, right?
“S’too much- M’so full please.” you beg, pussy quivering with exhaustion because once Toji gets hooked it’s impossible to escape. And you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.
“Really?” he hums, reaching down to lick those big fat tears streaming down your cheek. “And this is jus’ the tip? Too much for my baby?”
Positively cooing at how cute you were because you might say you can’t give him another one of your sinful little orgasms - but the way you were milking his cock deliriously, nails digging into his slutty waist to pull him closer, told him what he already knew. “She-” Looking down at your ravaged cunt, “-tells me you can.”
It’s all the confirmation Toji needs before he’s hitting your g-spot. Hard. Eyes widening at the way you gasp out a strangled moan of what sounded like his name. Pussy sucking him up so tight it almost hurt.
Shit.
Now, Toji’s had enough of playing nice. And he tells you - a little over twenty times, actually, while he slams into you like a man possessed. That promise of “just the tip” being the last thing on his mind while he fucks into you so dangerously deeper and deeper - inch by fucking inch.
And fuck he thinks he’s never making that promise again because there was no sight like the one of your snug cunt being split apart on his cock.
“Ya like that, doll?” he’s groaning, hips stuttering so mindlessly. Barely even thinking about getting himself off because fuck Toji needed to see you cum so bad. “See, now I know you can cum f’me again. And-” Toji throws your legs over his sculpted shoulders, thighs burning at the stretch as he bends down down down- “-that slutty pussy of yours is saying that ‘just the tip’ might jus’ not be enough.”
A mating press. Toji Fushiguro had you in a fucking mating press.
He was so unfair. Throwing you around like you were nothing but his lil’ plaything. Hissing so lowly against your lips as he bottoms out. Finally. “N’ I think she might jus’ be right.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Good lil’ wife!
There were only two things that had Nanami rushing home after a long day at work - you, and that pretty lil’ pussy of yours.
The difference? Well, maybe it was the way Nanami had you bent over the kitchen counter, kissing your forehead gently, whispering soft little praises in your ear. His darling wife.
Miles away from how he’s just pulling your drenched panties to the side - too impatient, too starved to remove them. “Was thinkin’ about this all day, my love” Weeping tip just kissing your sloppy hole. “Wanted to come home jus’ to- fuck- this cute lil’ pussy.”
Unforgiving. Nanami Kento was absolutely unforgiving.
Because without another word, he’s stuffing your cunt so disrespectfully full. And oh, how he loved this view, loved the way your scramble to grab onto the counter - the shelves - him. Just anything to get used to the stretch as he fucked into you in quick, mindless little thrusts. Like it killed him to wait.
Yeah, Nanami was sure that this was his favorite part of the day - a little reward when he gets home.
“Kento- ngh-” you keen. “D-did something happen at work?”
“No.”
Oh. Something did, probably a messed up report or another one of Gojo’s antics - but right now, talking about it was the last thing on Nanami’s mind. Because he was set and fully and completely ruining you.
Which is why he’s pooling some of the stray icing on the counter - were you baking before? It makes some dangerous, carnal part of himself jump at the thought of you making something for him. How adorable.
You gasp as you feel him harden impossibly inside you. So angry and hot as he dragged against your plushy walls. Veins bumping against your plushy walls in a dizzying little bump! bump! bump! Shit, you weren’t making it out alive. “Fuck- Kento you just got-”
The taste hits you before the realization. Sweet - like icing. Whatever sentence at the tip of your tongue is cut off as Nanami bullies two fingers inside your mouth.
The way you gag and moan so deliriously around him has all the blood rushing straight to his cock. Fuck, Nanami has to steel himself from painting your slutty pussy white right then and there - that wouldn’t make him too good of a husband now, would it? How dare he even think of cumming before you do.
“Shhh.” he huffs, hot against your ear. Tongue flattening along the skin, licking long, languid stripes up your neck, catching on the stray smudges of icing. His favorite. “Jus’ take it f’me, my girl.”
All your muffled whines have Nanami only slamming into you faster and faster. Your messy pussy was just soaking his aching cock - smearing your sweet juices all over Nanami’s heavy balls, seeping into your apron and- Ah, that apron. How Nanami loved to fuck you in this, such a cute lil’ pink number that had his cock twitching so dangerously inside you.
Faster. Sloppier.
But it wasn’t enough.
“Should’ve hah- expected this to happen, huh?” One hand snakes its way down to your throbbing clit, rolling the sensitive bud in just the way he knows will make you squeal and buck your hips onto his cock for more more more- “When you sent me those fucking pictures today?”
Because you weren’t quite the innocent little wife that you loved to pretend to be - no, you knew exactly what you were doing sending those selfies in this apron. And nothing else.
“Better not pull that shit again, darling.” Nanami grunts at the sheer thought of it. Pressing at the back of your tongue in a way that has you choking and craning your head to look into his darkened gaze. “Wouldn’t want to regret it.”
Such pure pride shining in his eyes at your fucked out state - apron stained with the sticky mixture of your slick and his precum.
And the one thing you know you won’t regret is the way you’re cumming. And cumming so hard that it almost hurts.
You, all messy and gorgeous cumming all over his cock, that Nanami can’t help but have his hips stuttering. so sloppy as he thrusts once, twice before pumping thick, hot ropes of cum. Tight balls squeezing so painfully as he cums the way he’s been dying to ever since he opened those sinful little messages from you.
God, he loved coming home.
Whispering, so deceivingly gentle against your lips, sounding miles away from your sweet lover. “Now, spread those pretty legs f’me, darling. Wan’ see if something else tastes as sweet..”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Spell my name (and yours)
“What’d that spell, m’girl?”
Now, Geto always has been told he has a silver tongue - you just never expected he’d use it like this. With you, sat so prettily on his face, eyes watery, swollen lips dropping into a soft oh! as he drags your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.
You gasp breathlessly, “I-”
Oh? Will you finally get it this time?
“I don’t know.”
Well, to Geto, that just meant he wasn’t doing his job well enough. And he took that personally.
You could almost sob in desperation as he pulls away ever-so-slightly, pathetically tugging on his dark locks to pull him closer. Uselessly.
Because Geto loved this part. Loved spreading your quivering thighs shamefully apart, all the way until you were letting out such cute lil’ moans at the stretch. Loved acting all disappointed as he stopped making out with your pretty pussy to let her drip! drip! drip! your sweet sweet juices down his waiting tongue.
“M’disappointed.” he tuts, mockingly, your frustrated whines going straight to his aching cock. “Thought you’d finally get it this time, beautiful.”
It’s been like this for so long now, Geto teasing you with his mean tongue. Ignoring his angry, achingly hard cock to spell out sinful little words on your dripping cunt - not letting you cum until you got them right.
Oh it just made you want to cry in desperation - and you’re so drunk off of his hot mouth that you barely even realize when you do. Big fat tears dripping down your cheek as you whimper, “S-Sugu, please. Jus’ wanna-”
“Cum?” he muses, giving your folds a long, languid lick. So unfairly gorgeous underneath you that it was almost dizzying - so smug in-between your legs, dark hair splayed across your pillow, your slick glossing all over his pretty pink lips. Ones which move as he plows on, “Then tell me what it spells.”
It’s laughable, really. That muffled little warning - if you can even call it that - before Geto’s diving back nose-deep in your pussy.
Bullying his tongue through your swollen folds - circling your sloppy entrance, dipping in and out in and- It made his cock twitch so painfully to catch the way your mouth drops open in disbelief, torn between trying to catch what he was spelling and bucking up for more more more-
“First two letters?”
You’re snapped out of your euphoric daze, eyes flitting down to where your boyfriend was devouring you with his eyes as much as he was with his mouth.
“Uh- Ngh-” you mewl with each flick of his tongue. A warning. A threat. Slurring slightly at the overstimulation, “Is it- ah- G-E?”
At this, Geto lets out a happy groan - one that has white-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes. Mouth only working faster, tracing out delirious little patterns on your pussy. Starting at the base, working all the way up to roll his tongue over your swollen clit.
So rough that you wondered whether it hurt - whether his tongue was cramping up, jaw tired.
“M’alright, sweetheart. Now, next letter.”
Shit, had you said that out loud? Ah, you don’t get to wonder too long about it, because Geto’s rocking your cunt so messily over his soft mouth. Drinking in your broken whine of, “T! It’s T.”
“Good. Next.”
“C?” you babble, grinding down harshly. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as your clench around his soft tongue. But oh you were so cute that he just had to forgive your little mistake.
“Nope.” Geto chuckles, popping off your throbbing clit with a lewd pop! “Try again.” Before starting his assault on your poor cunt again. Faster. Harder. Almost like he didn’t want you to get it.
He likes this - loves it even. Lapping up at your juices like it was his favorite taste, like he never wanted to leave. Just lay there and tease you for hours and hours and-
“Ngh- O. Fuck fuck fuck, it’s O. Geto!”
That’s right, spelling out his name on his girl’s pretty cunt - his his his- And, well, making you yell out what was to be your own last name soon? That was just a bonus.
It makes his balls squeeze so dangerously at how proud you were at your little victory. Walls fluttering around his tongue in a way that Geto knew meant you were close - too close. It almost makes him feel bad for what happens next. Almost.
“Now now. Stay still, beautiful. Haven’t spelled out my first and last name jus’ yet.”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - The thirsty
Choso loved you - so much so that it hurt. Everything from that pretty lil’ smile to the way you say his name in bed. And - nobody ever knew this - but he especially loved you when you squirted all over his achingly hard cock, until it was glistening and drenched with you.
The first time it happened was an accident - knuckle-deep in you when he’d hit that one spot just a bit too hard. Watching in awe as you soaked his fingers in your juices, so sloppy and dripping all the way down his wrist.
An accident. A sinful, dangerously convenient accident. One that had poked such a carnal, primitive part of Choso awake. One that had you here - legs spread so shamefully open, grip tight on your hips, bruising as he fucks you from behind.
“Cho-” you mewl, tears soaking into your pillow. “I don’ think m’gonna ngh- squirt.”
“No.” he moans, sounding as if his sanity was dancing away from him with each time his twitching balls smacked your ass. So heavy and just aching to cum - but not yet. No, he had more important things to do. “No no no- Fuck- need this so bad- you don’t understand, baby.”
And oh with the desperation of a madman, Choso’s snaking a hand down to toy with your swollen clit. Flashes of white behind your eyes each time he draws quick, maddening little circles on it.
“But-”
Faster. Sloppier. Not even circles because Choso thinks he might just go insane if you don’t cum now, all over his fingers and his cock and-
Your eyes snap open, a broken little sob leaving you before you’re cumming all over Choso’s fingers. It barely even feels like it, just a few exhausted tingles that have your vision spotty, tears clinging to your lashes at the pure overstimulation.
And the haze has barely even cleared up before Choso’s moving again, as if on instinct. No rhyme or reason. So messy with the way he was squeezing his cock into your tight pussy in mindless, sloppy grinds like he couldn’t take it anymore - and he probably couldn’t.
“O-one more.” he groans like a mantra. Slamming his hips hard enough that it would leave marks for tomorrow - his hip on your ass, fingers on your waist. “Jus’ one more- fuck fuck need this need this-”
You just wished you had the energy to turn around and catch whether Choso looked as fucked-out as he sounded. Low moans turning into broken whines like he was begging you. Begging himself.
Abs rubbing against yours, crushing you with his weight while he tried to milk that last, sweet orgasm out of you. Running only on the thought that this next one would hopefully have him soaked with your sweet sweet juices, dripping off of him.
“Ngh- baby, do it f’me.” Choso’s babbling in your ear, dark hair tickling your neck. Hoarse little grunts leaving him each time he hit that plushy spot inside you, sending stars behind your eyes. “C’mon I want it. Need it so bad. Fuck fuck fuck-”
“But I don’t know if I can-” that little doubt makes its way out of you, in a soft delirious whine that has Choso twitching so ferally inside you. Close, he was so close. Too close - this had to be the one.
“You- ah- can, baby.” he latches onto the tender skin at the crook of your neck. Fingers frenzied on your ravaged clit now, matching the time of his hips as he thrusts once. Twice. “You will.”
And you weren’t even sure if your last orgasm had bated before the next one was crashing in. Big fat tears rolling down your cheeks, at the same time your quivering pussy soaks Choso - all of him. Over and over-
Unstopping even when he’s shuddering to a halt, painting your poor pussy white with his cum, forming such a sinful pool on the sheets as you cum and cum and-
And Choso can’t even bring himself to be disgusted - because it doesn’t feel real. He’s here, pure electricity thrumming through his veins, your walls milking him so deliciously good, and just glistening and covered in your sweet juices. It’s all he’s ever wanted.
Well, for now. Because look at you, exhausted, thighs still shaking with the intensity of your orgasm - so fucking gorgeous - a mean little part of Choso can’t help but think -
What if he could make you squirt twice?
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - To taste, to command
“This what you want, brat?” he grins, grinding his angry, clothed erection on your pussy. Teasing. Torturous. “Wan’ to be split apart on m’cock, huh?”
Now, usually Sukuna would punish you a little more at that delirious little nod you give him - tell you to use your words like a good girl. But right now - shit, he’d never admit it - he’s been dying to get a lil’ taste of your cunt.
Pushing your legs further upwards, bending you in half all the way till your knees reach your tits. Mouth just watering at the way your pretty cunt was all glistening and clenching around nothing for him. At the idea of you crying on his tongue like you’re his favorite meal and-
Knock! Knock! Knock!
“Master, we have guests. Curses from the far North seeking court.”
Ah, shit. Just when he was getting to the good part. Though, one look at you - and that adorable little pout - has Sukuna wondering - why does he need to stop?
Your head absolutely spins with the fact that Uraume was standing right outside, and Sukuna was still lowering himself back down till he was face-to-face with your dripping cunt.
“Speak.” he hums, glossy lips latching around your swollen clit and it takes everything in you to not just scream. “I’ve got my mouth full.”
It’s the only thing said before Sukuna’s making out so sloppily with your pussy. Eyes half-lidded, slick glistening down his jaw, no care in the world for whether or not anyone outside would hear the lewd little squelches come from down there.
You, however, have your thighs squeezing uselessly together, half-hearted protests spilling from your lips about “they’ll know!”
Only to get a muffled, “Who cares?” as he dips his tongue into your messy hole.
Sukuna didn’t exactly expect you to be able to form a coherent sentence - not with the way you were sprawled so shamelessly on his bed, with him nose-deep in your pretty pussy and only probing deeper.
But, ah, you always did surprise him - because somehow you manage to blink away those big fat tears in your eyes, hips stuttering as you let out a breathy, “U-um, Kuna isn’t here right now.”
His cock twitches so dangerously at the words spilling from your lips - knowing exactly how to push his buttons just right. He hears Uraume shuffle outside, clearly sensing the traces of his cursed energy - heh, what fun.
“Do you know when…’Kuna’ will be back?”
God, your little nickname sounds so funny on their tongue that Sukuna’s huffing out a little chuckle into your cunt. The vibrations making you jolt and squeeze so sinfully around him. “Shhh, brat.” he cuts off your whine, “M’ ‘not here’, remember?”
With a half-hearted glare you’re pushing the great Sukuna’s head deeper into your sloppy pussy - mainly because you wanted more, but partly because you really needed him to be quiet right about now. And he takes it in stride, lapping up at your sweet juices.
“He- uh-” you’re cut off with him bullying his tongue inside your sopping entrance. Stretching you out. Circling the ring of muscle.
Urame sounded rightfully impatient now, “Yes, my liege?”
“He’ll be back later.” you choke out, face flushed at the way you were acting so pathetic and Sukuna was only smirking smugly into your folds. So blissed out as he rolled your clit between two fingers. “Very later. I’ll ah- let you…know.”
And honestly you don’t even hear Uraume’s quick “thank you” - or whether they even manage to make it far enough to miss the sharp yelp of Sukuna’s name as he doubles down on his efforts.
He knew exactly what you needed. What you craved. Tongue pushing against all the right spots so harshly over and over- Having you choking and sputtering out nonsensical little praises that you’d be absolutely mortified if anyone else heard.
“Kuna-” you gasp breathlessly, hips bucking up for more more more- “Been s’good for you so- ngh- can I cum? Please?”
Hell, if everyone was this trash at his feet begged like this then Sukuna might just be able to call himself a merciful ruler.
Well, not merciful enough to give you what you’ve wanted for so along, apparently. Because immediately, Sukuna’s pulling away, flashing you such a devilish grin. “Buckle up, brat. Because I haven’t cum yet.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - Tied up n’ gorgeous
Of course, the great Gojo Satoru has a whole box full of overpriced blindfolds. Ones a bit silkier than normal, a bit softer on the skin - not for wearing outside, no. Ones that were for times like this.
“Sweetheart, fuck- y’look so gorgeous like this.” he groans, kissing down the thin fabric tying you to the wooden bedpost. Down, down, down until he’s pushing his face in-between the valley of your breasts. “Almost makes me wan’ forgive you for being all mouthy earlier.”
Ah, there was that too - when you were extra sassy with him today, making a few too many comments about how dumb that blindfold looked. Like you just wanted this to happen. And it took only one too many defiant comments until he had you bound to the bed, pretty cunt sucking him up so eagerly. So needy for him.
“Ugh, m’sorry, Toru.” you bat your lashes so deceivingly innocently at him, breath hitching at the way his throbbing cock twitches painfully inside you at that. So easy. “Can you untie me. Please?”
“Hmmm lemme think.” Gojo looks down at you, a dangerous little smile curling his lips. “Nope.” And as if to further prove his point, he lets frustration out through you - stuffing himself into your sloppy pussy as far as it would go.
Biting his lip at how pretty you were all breathless, pussy bulging so obscenely around him that it was so fucking hard to look too. Too sinful.
“But-” you whine, “I thought-”
“What that I’d be nice?” your loving boyfriend finishes your sentence for you. And oh his voice had that familiar tone of amusement but his eyes had anything but. Dark and half-lidded, some dangerously smug satisfaction sparking in the as he fucks his hips in quick, shallow little thrusts. “Ya thought wrong, sweetheart~”
So high off the sight of you all cockdrunk and trapped - nowhere to run or hide. Though, you think you’d wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here.
Feeling so debauched and downright filthy. Groaning at the feeble ring of resistance as he pushes relentlessly.
And you need to spread your legs maybe - breathe - or just claw at Gojo’s back for his fucking massive cock and for showing you no mercy. But you couldn’t, not with his godforsaken blindfolds tied around your wrists, so fucking tight no matter how much you tug.
“Shit shit shit- fuck these ties.” you gasp, thighs and arms both aching as he uses you as he pleases. Body torn between shying away because the stimulation was too fucking much, and just bucking your hips wildly for more. “And fuck you, Toru.”
“Fuck me? Me?” Gojo has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh - laugh. Fingers moving down to toy with your pretty clit, pinching and rolling between his deft fingers in order to shut you up. “Real funny, sweetheart.”
God he almost considers going easy on you at your barely-lucid little squeals. Heavenly pussy squeezing him tighter than ever despite your little act.
And you know it too - how your facade is crumbling bit by bit. How you’re reeling from both his merciless cadence and the way he was talking to you in such a mean little tone.
Heart thumping as he swiftly reaches over - hips still unstopping - to grab another blindfold and oh-
“Funny enough that-” Gojo loops the blindfold around your neck, right over your racing pulse. Just lose enough that you can breathe, but tight enough that you’ll have such embarrassing marks to explain tomorrow. “I want to fucking ruin you, my girl.”
“Fuck- yeah- m’sorry, Wan’ it so much. Wan’ you to-”
At this point, you’re cockdrunk and delirious enough that you barely even realize when he’s tightening the blindfolds at your neck. Choking and stuttering at maybe his grip- maybe the way it felt like he was pushing into your lungs.
Gasping into your open mouth. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck yeah?‘ Teeth tugging at the delicate fabric around your neck, catching on skin. Dangerous. Hips burning now as he licks away at the big, fat tears streaming down your cheek. “Then cum f’me, sweetheart.”
Hard. Violent.
So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. Stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears as you cum harder than you think you ever have.
And oh, it’s so adorable how you try to pull off the blindfolds, scrambling to grab onto Gojo for some- any semblance of sanity as you lay there, breathless and shaking.
Cunt clenching so intoxicatingly around him that Gojo really can’t help but fill you up with his hot seed. Thick and so filthy. He’s got you in an iron-hold grip, hips moving in unstable, animalistic little movements from such a carnal part of himself.
Gojo planned to tease you a little longer, but, oh well - might as well just paint your pretty pussy white, right? Might as well fuck his cum deeper and deeper and-
“Hey, sweetheart, can you shittalk my blindfold again? I wanna have more angry sex.”
A/N. Uraume definitely knew.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo x reader#geto x reader#sukuna x reader#nanami x reader#gojo smut#geto smut#sukuna smut#nanami smut#tonywrites#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#choso x reader#choso smut#toji x reader#toji smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#gojo x reader smut#toji x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader#toji fushiguro smut#nanami x reader smut#choso x reader smut#geto x reader smut
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omg ok idea! James or Sirius with a gf whose chatty but just not super crass and May be she comes home drunk from girl's night and is just openly trying to seduce him and he's just so taken aback like who is this person?!
Thanks for requesting!
cw: intoxication, dubious consent but nothing more than kissing
Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 717 words
Sirius has never received such determined kisses in his life.
He turns his lips from yours, smearing them over your brow in consolation when you make a piteous, dejected sound he’s going to pretend for your benefit isn’t hilarious. You keep planting kisses on his jaw, his neck. Sirius catches your wrists in his hands when you start pulling up the hem of his shirt.
“Hey, hey,” he laughs. “What happened to ‘hello’? Is this how we greet each other now, sweetness?”
The kisses had begun the second he’d shut the door on your friends. They’d chatted for a minute before that, and you’d had this strange smile on your face as you waited for them to go. At the time, Sirius had chalked it up to your obvious inebriation, but now he knows it for depravity.
“Preferably,” you mumble, mouth busy with the bits of chest you can get at by pulling down the collar of his shirt. Sirius isn’t sure whether you can’t stand on your own or whether you’ve just decided pressing yourself fully against him is the way to go. Any other time, he really wouldn’t be opposed.
“What’s gotten into you?” he asks, delighted and exercising every ounce of self restraint in his battered soul to keep from kissing you back. He starts pulling you towards the couch, your uncoordinated feet following behind.
You pause in your ravishment to grin up at him. You look positively impish. “Like, d’you want a list?”
Sirius laughs, astonished. “What happened to my shy girl? Were you freaky fridayed by someone in the club?”
“Freaky fridayed in the club.” You snort, flopping down onto the couch when he does and immediately getting into his lap. “That could mean lots of things.”
Sirius feels a tug on his mouth. “Such as?”
You bury your head in his neck, voice vibrating against his skin. “It’d make a good band name.”
“It might,” he agrees, taking your face between both hands and removing you from him like a leech. A very pretty, beloved leech. “Do you feel like it might be time for bed, lovebug?”
Your eyes spark. “Yeah,” you say heartily.
“To sleep,” he clarifies.
“Oh.” Your face falls. “Well, no. I thought we could have sex first.”
Sirius guffaws, the sound short and loud, and his amusement really only worsens when you frown sullenly.
“Baby,” he tries gentling his tone, “I would love that, but you know why we can’t.”
“Why?” you ask obstinately.
Sirius pushes his thumbs into your cheeks, making wishful dimples on either side of your frown. “Because of what’s gotten into you.”
“But I want to,” you whine.
He pouts right back at you. “Me too, darling. It’s a tragedy.”
“Not even a kiss?” you ask, tilting your head in his hands and looking up at him with huge, sweet eyes. Have you been able to do that this whole time? Fuck, he’s lucky you’re not often feeling bold enough to use it.
“I could do a kiss,” he concedes.
“A nice one,” you demand.
Sirius feels his lips pull up. “Agreed. A nice one.”
You close your eyes, expectant, and he bends towards you, pressing his lips to yours sweetly. You taste like all manner of booze, but still his girl. You make a soft sound in your throat, lips parting for his, coaxing him in. In an extraordinary show of willpower, Sirius pulls away.
“Hey.” You look betrayed, and he can’t help himself, planting a quick peck on your nose that makes it scrunch adorably. “You said it’d be a nice one!”
“That felt pretty nice to me,” he says, laughing when you try to move in for more and he has to dodge you. He turns his head to the side and catches at your hands when they go for his shirt. “That’s it for tonight. If you want more kisses tomorrow, I promise to let you have as many as you like.”
You sigh, giving up and hooking your chin on his shoulder. “Your lips were, like, buzzing,” you mumble, wistful. “It was nice.”
“Pretty sure that’s just you, sweetness,” Sirius tells you kindly, breaking his promise once more to press his lips to your hair. “Ready for bed now?”
“To sleep?” you ask despondently.
“Yeah, baby. To sleep.”
#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x you#sirius black x self insert#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fic#sirius black fluff#sirius black imagine#sirius black scenario#sirius black blurb#sirius black drabble#sirius black oneshot#sirius black one shot#marauders#the marauders#marauders era#marauders fandom#marauders fanfiction#hp marauders#marauders x reader#tw alcohol
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Feel so close| Spencer Reid
A/N: if anyone has any good ideas for angst or fluff, or wants to send some requests through. Please do. I obviously love all of your smut requests (i truly do) but I would also love some angst and fluff ones (heavy on the angst ones).
Summary: It’s yours and Spencer’s wedding night and you want to give him what he has always wanted.
Content: Fem!reader. Fluff. Smut. 18+ MDNI. Oral (r!receiving). Creampie. P in V. Slight dom/sub undertones. Breeding kink. Very fluff filled sex I won’t lie. Porn with a plot.
Masterlist| requests are open| Navigation
Spencer was so close to living his dream life, and he could not be any happier. He had just seen his dream girl walk down the aisle to become Mrs Reid. And while he couldn’t be any happier, there was one thing, or really rather a few things, missing that would make his life perfect.
As he watched the last of the guests fade away, he couldn’t wait to take you to your shared hotel room. He couldn’t stop staring at you, knowing that tonight was the beginning of your forever together.
As you both entered the elegant suite, Spencer couldn’t get enough of how you looked in your wedding dress, but he also couldn’t wait to get it off you.
His hands trembled with anticipation as he reached out to caress the delicate lace adorning your shoulder. The room was aglow with the soft light of a dozen candles, casting flickering shadows across your face.
He leaned in to press a tender kiss against your lips, savouring the sweetness of the moment. “I love you Mrs Reid.” Spencer whispered, his voice filled with love and adoration. You smiled back at him, feeling a rush of warmth and happiness in your chest.
“I love you more, Dr Reid.” You whispered back, your voice barely above a breath.
His heart swelled with joy at your words, feeling like the luckiest man alive. He gently lifted you into his arms, carrying you towards the luxurious four-poster bed adorned with rose petals.
“You know there is only one thing right now that could make me even happier.” Spencer grinned mischievously as he lowered you onto the soft mattress, the petals fluttering around you like a fragrant snowfall. His eyes sparkled with desire as he leaned into whisper in your ear.
"What's that?" you asked, your voice laced with anticipation, your heart pounding with excitement at the prospect of what was to come.
“If you were to become pregnant with my child.” Spencer gently confessed; his voice filled with hope.
“I’m sure we can make that happen, Spencer.” You whispered back, a playful glint in your eyes. “I know you have always wanted to be a dad.”
Spencer's face lit up with pure happiness at your words, his heart overflowing with love for you. Without wasting another moment, he captured your lips in a passionate kiss, letting all his emotions pour into the moment.
Spencer carefully started to undress you, his movements slow and reverent as if unwrapping a precious gift. The air was thick with desire and anticipation as he leaned in to kiss every inch of your exposed skin, worshipping you like a devoted lover.
“You are officially my pretty girl now.” Spencer murmured against your skin; his hand was placed on your stomach “I can’t wait to see carrying my child.”
With a loving smile, you traced your fingers along his jawline, savouring the moment. “And I can’t wait to start a family with you, Spencer,” you whispered, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world to have him by your side.
Once your dress had come completely off, Spencer couldn’t take his eyes of your white lingerie that hugged your curves in all the right places. Desire burned in his eyes as he slowly removed his own clothes, every movement deliberate and filled with longing.
In that moment, nothing else existed for Spencer except for you, the woman who held his heart in her hands. As he kissed you with a hunger that spoke of all the love and passion he felt.
Spencer slowly started kissing his way down your body, leaving no part of you neglected. His mouth was tender and passionate as he explored every inch, savouring each taste and touch. You laid there, feeling like the most desired woman in the world, your body responding to his every move.
His hands traced delicate patterns over your skin, sending ripples of desire through you. His lips then lingered at the base of your neck, and you could feel the heat from his breath. It was a gentle yet powerful affirmation of his deep love for you.
Your breathing became shallow and quick as Spencer continued his exploration, and you found yourself arching your back, inviting him closer. He seemed to sense your need and desire, and his own lustrous eyes betrayed the intensity of his own cravings.
When his lips finally reached the most intimate part of your body, a soft gasp escaped your lips. His touch was gentle yet so powerful in its ability to awaken you, and you knew that no one else could make you feel this way.
As his lips continued to lavish attention upon you, your entire body seemed to come alive with electricity, every nerve ending firing in response to his tender caresses.
You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, and whispered, "Spencer, I need you inside me more than ever. I want to feel you, I want to feel you complete me." Your voice trembled with desire as you spoke.
Spencer looked into your eyes, his love for you a fiery catalyst. He positioned himself over you, the anticipation making his heart race with excitement. With a deep breath, he slowly entered you, the feeling of the warmth and tightness of your body around him, unparalleled.
He slowly began to move, his rhythm in perfect harmony with the pulse of your body, matching the rhythm of your breath as his love for you grew with every stroke.
Spencer once again placed his hand on your lower stomach, he knew realistically he couldn’t feel himself, but he cherished every moment, every sensation, every feeling of being deep within you. He kissed you gently, passionately, and whispered soft encouragement, "It won't be long before I can feel you carrying my child."
Your breaths became more ragged, you wanted nothing more than to make Spencer a dad, to let everyone know you belonged to him. And so, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him deeper inside you, increasing the intensity of the moment.
Spencer's eyes locked with yours, the love and desire in them impossible to resist. He moved faster, his pace becoming more urgent, as he sought to fulfil your shared dream. Your bodies moved in perfect sync.
Every muscle in your body tightened in response to his touch, as your climax drew closer with each thrust, a primal urge to merge with him and create new life together overwhelmed you.
Spencer wasn’t far from his own release. His heart was pounding in his chest, and a sense of awe and gratitude washed over him as he felt himself getting closer.
With one final thrust, Spencer cried out your name, his pleasure mingling with the tenderness of the moment. His heart overflowed with love and gratitude.
He collapsed onto you, his breath ragged and his heart pounding in your ears. You held onto him, feeling the pulse of his heart against the warmth of your skin, and a bond stronger than any connection you'd ever known.
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being unable to keep their eyes off of them please??
Eddie wants to get the hell out of here.
He feels kind of bad about it, because Bobby and Athena throw a great barbecue, and any other day of the week he’d love to grab a beer and settle in for as long as they’ll have him. Any other day of the year, really—
Just not the same day Buck kissed him.
He’d always imagined that if he ever scraped enough resolve together to try something with Buck, it would happen in the heat of the moment. After a close call on a rescue, maybe, or at a bar after a shift sometime, when he has just enough alcohol in him to push past the nagging doubts in his mind.
He’d always imagined that if anything ever happened, it would be because he took that first step. He could, when he was feeling hopeful, imagine Buck would be into it, but it had never even crossed his mind that Buck might want him enough to be the one to cross the invisible line between friends and something more.
Only—
Two hours ago, he stood in the firehouse parking lot and watched Buck pace and forth in the artificially bright glow of a streetlamp for all of thirty seconds before drawing to a stop right in front of him, toe to toe across the faded outline of a parking space.
“I’m going to do something,” Buck said, the warmth of his exhale ghosting across Eddie’s skin. “And you can tell me if I’m wrong. But—” he hooked one finger in the belt loop of Eddie’s jeans, tugging slightly, and the movement danced like lightning down Eddie’s spine.
“—I don’t think I’m wrong.”
And he tugged on the belt loop again, pulling Eddie closer into his space, and pressed his mouth to Eddie’s.
It seemed to last a lifetime, and it was over far too soon. Buck pulled back, careful, drawing a ragged breath, and Eddie leaned into chase him and found Buck grinning against his lips.
“Not wrong, then?” Buck murmured, and it took Eddie a moment to remember what Buck had said just before.
“Definitely not wrong,” he breathed. The words were half-lost in Buck’s mouth but he must have understood them anyway, because he laughed, bright and clear, before pushing Eddie up against the car behind him to kiss him again.
It was only when Buck’s phone rang, vibrating in his pocket so that Eddie felt it against his own thigh, that they remembered the barbecue. And that they’d promised to bring ice.
So now Eddie’s here, and for the first time he can remember he desperately wants to leave.
He and Buck hadn’t really talked about it, so he’s trying to act normal. Which is to say he’s trying to act like he doesn’t want to walk across Bobby and Athena’s backyard and grab Buck by the collar to drag him in for another kiss. Or to demand what the fuck it means.
He would describe himself as moderately successful.
But in Eddie’s defence, if the rest of them knew the situation he doesn’t think they could blame him for the way his eyes keep getting drawn to Buck no matter where he is, like the universe is shining a spotlight on him. It’s not his fault Buck’s laugh lights up the room and he can’t help but look.
It’s not his fault that Buck catches him looking, sometimes, and smiles a smile that says he’s thinking about what happened in the parking lot.
A smile that says he’s thinking about doing it again.
And it—well, maybe it is his fault when he grins back, his face trying to settle on something somewhere between wanting and bashful, but there are extenuating circumstances. He is, after all, only one man.
Overall, Eddie’s pretty sure nobody could blame him for the fact that he wants to get the hell out of here.
Just then, Hen sidles up to where he’s leaning against the kitchen island and settles in next to him, mirroring his position and crossing her arms.
“You should take your man home,” she says.
Eddie flushes, and she laughs.
“You’re not being particularly subtle,” she says. “Either of you. I don’t know what happened exactly—” she raises a hand when Eddie tries to open his mouth “—and I don’t need to know. But you should take him home before it happens again on Bobby and Athena’s patio.”
Eddie’s face feels so warm he’s surprised he can’t see cartoon heat lines wafting off his cheeks.
Hen laughs again, gentler this time. “No one’s judging you, Eddie,” she says, and nudges him with her elbow. “I remember what it was like in the beginning. So go, take him home. I know you want to.”
“I—yeah,” Eddie says, and lets himself grin. “I really do.”
He doesn’t need to look for Buck, because he already knows where he is. He makes his way across the room, through their gathered friends and family, and over to where Buck is talking to Chimney. His heartbeat hammers in his ears as he does it, but Hen said it was obvious anyway, so he takes a deep breath and stands behind Buck, wrapping his arms around his waist and resting his chin on Buck’s shoulder.
“Hi,” Buck says, breathy with surprise but his cheeks pink with pleasure.
“Hen said I should take my man home,” Eddie says, and makes a concerted effort not to look at Chimney. He focuses instead on Buck’s cheek against his, and the way it crinkles when he smiles.
“Did she?” Buck says. “I guess we should listen to the captain, then.”
“Exactly what I was thinking,” Eddie murmurs. They slip through the room, and Eddie tries to avoid Hen’s knowing look as they duck out of the front door without bothering with goodbyes.
As soon as the door closes, Eddie grabs Buck by the hips and pushes him against it, crowding into his space. “This is all I’ve been thinking about all night.”
“It’s only been two hours,” Buck says.
“I’ve been thinking about it a lot longer than two hours,” Eddie says, and watches Buck’s eyes go dark. Then he grins. “Besides, do you want to nitpick, or do you want to kiss me?”
“I can multitask,” Buck says, and Eddie laughs and kisses him for it, and for a moment the world narrows to just the two of them, wrapped up in each other against Bobby’s front door.
“Actually,” Buck murmurs, a moment or three later, when Eddie’s forehead rests against Buck’s and both their breaths come a little heavy. “I wanna change my answer.”
“Yeah?” Eddie asks. “To what?”
“I want you to take me home.”
send me a blossoming romance prompt 🌸
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down bad fr | f.megumi x reader
@takumifujiwarastan remember how a while back you said here that it sucked how there weren't enough introverted girls, reserved girls etc. SO I did try writing this please enjoy their (gn reader woooo) emotional constipation even though the reticence of their personality isn't really highlighted eurgh
having a crush on megumi is so fucking stupid. it’s driving you insane.
you can’t even talk to him. everything he does, everything he says— your heart leaps like a rabbit he casts, and your emotions soar into a terrifyingly messy mishmash of confusion and yearning and infatuation, and then everything in between.
you feel helpless, vulnerable like this— rendered out of control of your feelings after years of emotional constipation and a harsh strictness on yourself to rein them in like a rowdy horse being whipped during derby matches. you’re a climber, you’re hanging precariously from a cliff with every interaction, a child standing before a blueprint with nothing but toy blocks and a kiddie hammer, a roomba with its sensors malfunctioning— you get the point. those were enough metaphors to delineate your predicament.
well, he doesn’t even like you anyway, right?
but you want him so badly.
you just want to hammer it into his thick skull. to just go, ‘hey, I like you even if you may not like me! just go out with me anyway!’
yet with each interaction you struggle even more. because how the hell do you confess to fushiguro megumi, much less go out with him and become his partner?
for years romance had remained nothing but a velleity, a nice fantasy you could slip into when your mind demanded respite in the form of escapism and jejune daydreams. but now that your adoration for him has made it all somewhat possible, you don’t know what to do— your control is being tended away from you, and the worst part is that you don’t even mind it that much.
spiky black hair and eyelashes of silk pass you by, his scent as clean as freshly laundered sheets in hotels. at the start you had thought little about him beyond him being your classmate and eventually just your confidante. yet gradually, you surprised yourself. and everything about him is attractive nowadays: his hair, his pearlescent teeth, the viridian hue of his eyes— hell, he made even the way he drank coffee look like a model of a man in an antediluvian monochrome film of the sixties. and it was so normal, so average, that you were about to slap yourself for the fact that an everyday trait of his had become something so lovely to look at just because it was him. megumi would hold the cup securely by his lithe fingers, the same one he spouted cursed energy from when summoning his shikigami, before lifting the cup up and bringing the brim to his mouth, his lips that never chapped.
nobara asks whether he’s drinking black coffee to look cool around and attract people. needless to say, at least you were attracted.
you hoped he didn’t see the way your face must have blanked out, gaze transfixed on his eyes as he took swigs from his mug.
why’d he have to be like that?!
megumi continued looking at ozawa, the girl who had a crush on itadori— she was just like you for real, but with double the courage and half the emotional constipation.
you hoped it would work out for her. that way, perhaps you could muster the strength and bravery to do the same, too.
you take another look at him. he’s really pretty. had you kicking your feet in the air and all and then screaming in horror because of it, had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing.
with the help of kugisaki and megumi, ozawa and itadori, the two of them are cajoled to go around tokyo together. it’s the best ‘date’ that the two of them can help the other two have, especially since itadori is dense as rocks (megumi’s probably worse based on your experiences, then) and ozawa is as shy as a touch-me-not flower.
“oh, and [name],” megumi starts while nobara strolls ahead, all set to begin a new shopping spree.
“ah— uh, yeah?” you stammer.
“do you like me? romantically, I mean…” he scratches the back of his neck.
what the fuck. is this seriously happening? right now?
“huh? what? I—”
“no, it’s just that— seeing ozawa made me think. I guess I never considered it an option, but I suppose I have had… feelings for you for a pretty long time…”
“woah. ah, sorry, I meant— sorry, I’m just very surprised…” you scramble, your hands gesticulating all kinds of things in an exaggerated way of taking it back because yes you like him, you like him a lot— “I mean, I do like you! it’s just, fuck— uh, what do I say— I’m really scared. I thought you didn’t reciprocate at all.”
“I could tell. but I…” he hesitates, “I overthought everything,” then with a frown, he goes, “gojo would have teased me if he was here.”
“well, I– uh. we’re lucky he isn’t, I guess?” you pause, “...so what do we do now? are we a thing? are we dating? wait, am I going too fast? I, oh my goodness, I—”
“would you like to?” he asks. your knees are about to buckle with every second he keeps his eyes on yours.
“I…— well, I would.”
“then it’s settled. can I— can I hold your hand, please?”
“...okay.”
with trepidation in your hands and your heart pounding in your chest, you inch your hands closer, saline sweat on them as if you’d dipped it into the sea. he keeps his gaze on yours— they’re as unsure as you are, his cheeks a slight scarlet, his eyes swirling with nervousness but a sliver of anticipation, of joy and relief. so he feels exactly the same as you do, then.
his fingers find yours after a while, tracing along the lines of your palm like a blind man touching something for the first time. you want to learn to love and to memorise each nook and cranny of him starting with his palm, and for once emotional vulnerability is not that bad.
kugisaki’s in for a shock as soon as she turns around. first it was itadori potentially having a partner before she does, and now megumi?
imagine writing this because of being delulu abt an irl crush (i should be studying for my exams.) haha couldn't be me right (i'm so cooked)
#megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#megumi fushiguro#fushiguro megumi#jjk megumi#megumi imagine#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#ruer writes#megumi fluff
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Can’t stop thinking about riling up Gojo, teasing him until he loses control and breaks beneath you. He’d be so patient for you, biting back curses as you rid him slowly; the tantalising pace driving him more insane with every buck of your hips. You’d watch as his long, slender fingers twisted in the bed sheets, knuckles turning white in an attempt to stop himself from grabbing roughly at your hips and taking you exactly how he wanted to.
“Come on baby, you can do better than that,” The cocky grin on his face does little to hide his frustration, the smile not quite reaching his crystal eyes; instead they’re laced with something insatiable, something threatening. Your walls clench around him at the sight of the hunger in his gaze and he whines, his brows furrowing.
“Please,” He’d whimper, the smug expression reduced to one that’s almost wanton, “Please, I need you. Need you so fucking bad.”
Your rhythm doesn’t change, if anything it slows even further. It sends Saturo’s resolve crumbling, breaking apart piece by piece with every minute that goes by. His brows are pinched in the centre, mouth open as he pants pathetically, whimpers leaving his soft, pink lips. You’re addicted to the fire behind his gaze, the blazing look burning amidst his blue orbs burning brighter than you’d ever seen.
A growl rips through Gojo’s throat, his strong digits digging into your sides, hard enough to bruise. “Fuck this,” Saturo mutters menacingly, a depth to his silky voice that sends shivers down your spine. One moment you’re bouncing leisurely on his length, the next you’re flipped around entirely, face buried in the sheets and ass in the air, “Now you’ve fucking done it.”
He thrusts into you roughly, unapologetic as his hips snap into you from behind. A crazed chuckle leaves his lips, watching the way your ass bounces against him with a lob sided, carnal grin. Gojo holds your hips with a grip so strong it makes you gasp, bucking into you ruthlessly. He was never necessarily vanilla with you before, but the way he’s grinning like a madman and the speed of which he’s fucking into you is something you’ve never experienced. Today you’d pushed him too far, broken your sweet, loving boyfriend and reduced him to this.
You fucking loved it.
“Thought you could take control, heh,” You hardly recognise his voice, practically hearing the maniacal smile in his words. Saturo’s hand snakes up to your hair, grabbing it in his fist and pulling you up so your backs to his chest. He lewdly licks a stripe down the back of your neck, nipping at the skin, “Look at you now,” His tone turns soft and downright patronising as he speaks into the nape of your neck, “A dirty-little- fucking-slut.” Each filthy word leaving his mouth is punctuated by a thrust. It sends heat rushing to your core, he never spoke to you like this, always praising and complimenting you as he’d worship your body.
“This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” You tried to answer but the way he’s fucking you has unable to formulate a sentence. He loosens his grip on your hair, combing his fingers through the strands and a soft, wet kiss on the back of your neck, completely juxtaposing the way he’s pummelling your cunt, “Filthy girl.”
Saturo’s mind is hazy with lust, nothing on his mind but ruining you for working him up so much. The moans leaving his mouth are unabashedly loud, lost in the feeling of you around him. His icy hair is ruffled, eyes glowing impossibly brighter and that wicked smile still graces his lips. You turn your head to look at him and he almost comes right there, his brows pinching together in the centre and his eyes going lidded. “You look so fucking pretty when I ruin you baby.”
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk Gojo#Gojo Saturo#saturo gojo#Gojo smut#Gojo#Gojo x reader#Gojo x you#jjk x you#Gojo Saturo x reader#Saturo Gojo x reader#Saturo Gojo x you#Gojo Saturo x you#Gojo Saturo smut#Saturo Gojo smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#Saturo smut#Saturo#leashaoki#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu satoru#jujutsu kaisen Gojo Saturo#jujutsu kaisen Saturo Gojo
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But Daddy I love him !
(based on the song from TTPD)
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
warnings: smut, p in v, marijuana consumption, overstimulation, oral sex, pet names, 18+
(harrystyles!dealer x female reader) both are 18!
summary: senior year of high school y/n falls in love with the new plug at school.
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
i HATE high school.
that might sound stereotypical like i’m one of those emo girls that hates everything, but i’m not. i just HATE high school.
for the first couple years everything was going great. freshman and sophomore year were so much fun. i had a big group of friends and i was pretty popular. i was even dating the cute skater boy! it was literally a teenage romcom like ’10 things i hate about you’.
however, that all went to shit.
the downfall of my teenage years first began when my asshole ex thought leaking my nudes to the entire junior class was a good idea. so naturally instead of standing up for me, my friends turned on me and said i was a slut.
after that traumatizing incident, i learned one thing. high school is temporary so why waste my time on bitchy friends?
that’s the attitude i had coming into senior year and it’s the one that’s kept me going for the last few months.
i stopped dressing preppy and popular because my “friends” wanted me too and i started dressing like i want to.
life is going fucking great now. i smoke weed, go to class, and binge watch gilmore girls. i don’t have to go to those god awful parties on the weekends, i can just relax.
the only way thing going bad for me right now was the fact that my dealer moved away. now i had to find a new one which isn’t hard, just annoying.
from what i’ve heard there’s 2 other dealers on campus. one is a freshman that steals shit from his dad and sells it. the other one is a random british guy that moved here last year.
i’m probably going to choose the new british guy.
so that was my goal for today. i’m going to find the new british guy in my class and buy weed so i don’t die during midterms week.
from what i’ve heard about this mystery british guy is his name is either harvey, harry, or harden. i’ve also heard he’s insanely hot and rejects all the girls that ask him out. although, if we’re being real here, most british guys are hot just because of their voices. so, i’m doubting he’ll be that hot. he’s probably going to have nasty ass teeth and be short.
walking down the halls of the school is kind of fun for me. i blast music in my headphones and pretend like i’m not in this hell hole. my outfit is casual and comfy so i’m honestly pretty confident right now.
as i walk into my first class i sit in my usual seat i see a new guy sitting next to me. i glance at him and can’t remember if i’ve ever seen him before. i don’t think i’ve ever seen him, but i can say for a fact that he is very, very, VERY attractive.
the new guy is sitting back against his chair, manspreading of course, with his headphones in. he’s wearing a black hoodie and dark blue jeans. he looks so casually perfect it’s slightly alarming.
i turn towards the front of the classroom as my teacher begins to drone on about different math equations. however, throughout the 50 minute class, my eyes kept wandering back over to the very attractive boy sitting next to me.
i TRIED to keep my thoughts off of him. i mean, i have completely sworn off dating and crushes for the rest of high school because of the last one that fucked me over.
my thoughts are cut off by the boy tapping me on the shoulder. my mind freezes and i turn towards him.
“yeah?” i try to act all nonchalant and mysterious but i said yeah WAY to quickly and excitedly.
the boy smiles slightly and leans over whispering to me. “do ya get a thing he's droning on about?”
oh fuck. the british accent.
“no i really don’t i'm completely zoned out right now.” i whisper back to the british boy.
he nods and leans back in his chair watching the teacher talk. he is sitting there with his knees casually spread and his arms crossed.
we sit there for another 10 minutes listening to the teacher talk about different functions until he announces.
“alright for the last 15 minutes of class go over the problems on the board with the person next to you.” the teacher points to the problems then sits at the desk so we can all work with our partners.
the boy smirks and turns his head back towards me. “ready to fail together?”
i can’t help the small smile that creeps onto my lips. i usually try to stay pretty unbothered and calm at school, but something about the way this curly headed boy was smiling at me made me a bit giddy.
AND he has weed, small plus.
“yeah lets do it” i nod and we start working on the equations together. he scoots closer to me and rests his head propped up on his arm while i start writing things down.
he watches me write for a second before speaking up. “y’have pretty handwriting.”
i look at him a bit surprised but smile a little bit. blush slowly creeps up on my cheeks as he compliments me. “really? never heard that before.” i shrug.
“yeah never seen someone write their three’s with a curl before. it’s adorable.” he smirks and looks up at me for a second before looking back down at my writing.
i’m about to speak up again but the teacher cuts me off. “if you haven’t finished the problems yet, do them tonight and turn them in tomorrow morning.”
he looks over at me with a smile, “we still have quite a few questions left."
“yeah this is going to take a while.” i sigh looking down at the 32 questions we have to work on.
he turns his body towards me more and props his arm up against the back of the chair next to me. “where do you eat lunch?”
i shrug. “probably in the library today because i have a fuck ton of work to catch up on.”
“hm okay. mind if i join you? we could finish the work then.” he has a small smile on his face while i sit there looking flustered as ever.
“oh yeah sure.” i nod and smile a little bit. “i’ll just be on the couches in the back. come find me.” he nods and we both exit the classroom.
holy shit. THAT was the guy i’m supposed to buy from? i’m going to be needing a LOT more weed than i thought.
throughout all of the drama that went down junior year, i have had one friend remain loyal to me. y/bsf/n and i have been friends since freshman year of high school and have stayed close ever since.
as soon as i walked out of math i rushed to find her. naturally, i found her touching up her makeup in the girls bathroom.
“GUESS WHAT?” i squeal as i burst into the girls bathroom.
she immediately drops her mascara and whips around to face me. “WHAT WHAT”
i smile and grab her shoulders. “I’M EATING LUNCH WITH THE HOT BRITISH PLUG”
y/bsf/n face drops and she squeals excitedly. “OMG I SAW HIM THIS MORNING HE IS SO- ”
“can you guys shut up? i’m trying to wash my hands” a random girl glares at us.
“um no? can you go wash your shit covered hands then leave?” she snaps back at her. the girl rolls her eyes and walks out of the bathroom.
i’m too excited to even care. we stand there for the next couple minutes before class starts talking about what i’m going to do and how to talk to him.
another girl walks up to the mirrors and suddenly turns to us with an “i’ve got gossip” look. “you know i heard he only wears long sleeved hoodies and shirts to school because he’s a heroin addict that’s covering track marks.”
both y/bsf/n and i roll our eyes and shake our head. “that’s a dumbass rumor don’t spread shit like that.” i glare at her.
the girl rolls her eyes and shrugs. “might be true.”
“wait wait pause.” my face drops as i look at y/bsf/n.
“what?”
“i don't even know his name. the only thing i know is that it starts with an H” my eyes widen in the realization that i didn’t even introduce myself in class today.
“uhhh i think it’s harvey? i’m like 80% sure.” she shrugs and continues doing her makeup in the mirror as i stand there freaking out.
“harvey?! like steve harvey? theres no way thats his name.” i roll my eyes.
“whatever, just ask him! oooh maybe if you guys hookup he’ll give you free weed!” she smirks at me.
“NO i’m not using him for free stuff. that is so fucked up.”
she rolls her eyes and applies her lipgloss. “fine fine. be all moral if you want.” the bell rings and the both of us leave the bathroom. i head towards my english class with the elated feeling of what’s to come.
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
by the time lunch rolls around i’m feeling giddy as ever. y/bsf/n had been hyping me up for the last four periods which wasn’t helping my excitement die down at all.
i walk into the library building and walk to the back where my usual lunch study couch is. i set my tote bag and lap top down and get comfy waiting for “H” to show up. if his name is actually harvey theres no way in hell i’ll be able to take him seriously.
after about five minutes he walks over and plops down on the couch next to me. “ready?”
“yeah lets finish this shit.” i nod and pull out my work while he grabs his. “so can i ask your name? i totally forgot to ask this morning.”
he pauses and turns to me with a smirk. “wait you don’t know my name?”
my eyes widen and i try to play it off. “uh… no how would i know your name?”
he instantly starts laughing and covers his mouth. “really? we’ve been in the same math class for 5 months!”
i stare at him in shock and guilt for a second before snapping out of it and smiling. “i’m sorry. i’m pretty zoned out or high during math.”
“yeah i got that.” he smirks and looks at me. “i even know your name y/n”
i feel blush start to creep up my cheeks as i hear my name drop from his lips. is it from embarrassment or being flustered? we’ll never know, but it’s probably a mix. he knows my name? fuck.
“oh i’m so sorry.” i meet his eyes with a nervous and embarrassed look.
“no you’re good. this is only the second time we’ve ever interacted so i understand.” he still has a smug smile on his face. “well my name’s harry.”
“ohh harry? my friend told me something completely different.” i smile. thank GOD i didn’t call him harvey. i would’ve died from the humiliation if that slipped out.
harry smirks and looks back over at me. “wow already talking about me to your friends? good to know i make an impression.”
my face heats up at his teasing words, but i try to play it off. “well it’s not often a british guy sits next to me in math.”
“yeah i guess thats true.” harry nods and leans back against the couch. “i’ve always known who you were. which might sound creepy but i promise it’s not.”
“really?” how would he know who i am? besides math we don’t have anything together. we don’t even run in the same friend group.
“yeah you’re like the hot girl that got trashed by her friends right?”
i roll my eyes. “yeah thats me. i’m guessing you saw my nudes.”
harry frowns and shrugs. “i didn’t look at them myself but i heard descriptions. i’m not a pervert i wouldn’t look at some random girls nudes.”
“okay thank you but, oh my gosh hearing about it is 10x worse!” i groan in embarrassment.
“hey, it’s not your fault. that ex and those “friends” of yours were total assholes for doing that to you.” harry gives me a sympathetic look before returning to the math problems.
“wait. if you’ve been in my class this whole time how have i not seen you before today?” the realization hits me that i’ve never even seen harry in class before. i would’ve remembered if i had, he’s not a face you would forget seeing.
harry shrugs. “i usually sit in the back on the other side of the classroom.”
“oh. so then why did you sit next to me in the front today?” i look at harry slightly confused.
“because you’re pretty.” he smirks at me.
my eyes widen and i blush a little. “oh thank you.”
for the next 30 minutes we talk mindlessly back and forth while working on our homework together. as lunch time comes to a close i remember why i was originally seeking out harry.
“hey i totally forgot to ask, but are you selling?”
harry puts down his notebook and crosses his arms looking at me with a small smile. “hm depends what you’re trying to buy.”
i roll my eyes and give him a look. “i think you know what i’m trying to buy.” harry chuckles quietly and continues teasing me.
“wow what is an innocent girl like you doing trying to buy pot?” he looks absolutely gorgeous like this. he’s leaning back comfortable with his arms crossed. those emerald green eyes search my face with an amused grin. “i think you’re daddy would be disappointed if he knew.”
“oh whatever.” i try to act annoyed but the way he is looking at me right now is intoxicating. “so you have it? because if you don’t i’m going to have to go to that weird ass freshman.”
harry laughs and rests his head agains the back of the couch. “of course i have something for you y/n. except i don’t sell at school so if you want something you’ll have to come over later.”
oh. OH go to his house? don’t have to ask me twice.
“yeah for sure.” i nod at him and play it off with a smile like i’m not internally squealing with joy.
harry pulls out his phone and holds it out for me to take. “put your number in and i’ll text you my address.”
my heart beat speeds up as i take the phone from him carefully. i quickly type in my number and create a contact with my name as, ‘y/n 💞’
a bright smile appears on his face when he sees my contact in his phone. harry glances back up at me and says, “god you’re so cute.”
i blush brightly and feel extremely flustered but i ignore it and nod. “text me your address and i’ll come over after school.”
harry smiles and nods. “alright.” he quickly types something into his phone. i hear a ding from my phone and see a text message from an unknown number. harry’s address is written so i quickly set the contact to ‘harry 🍃’
“cool see ya later y/n” harry nods at me and exists the library.
“bye” i sit there in shock of everything that just happened. he called me cute AND pretty? tonight is going to be un-fucking-real.
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
the first thought that comes to every girls mind when they are invited over to a guys house is, their outfit. so that’s where i am now. running around my room throwing shit around trying to find a cute outfit.
y/bsf/n was sitting on my bed telling me different things. “okay don’t wear a skirt that’s trying WAY too hard.”
“i know!” i groan and drop all my skirts on the ground before scrambling back to my closet.
“y/n look. the more you try the more shallow you’re going to come off. so just wear jeans and a cute top.” she shrugs and throws me a pair of my low rise jeans.
“yeah yeah you’re right.” i sigh and put the jeans on with a cute top, and my outfit is ready to go.
“ugh SO cute honey. you’re gonna wipe that sexy ass off his feet.” she claps happily and smiles.
i roll my eyes but smile. “okay whatever i have to go.” i kiss her cheek than head towards the door.
“yay go get high and laid bitch!” she giggles as i leave my bedroom.
harry’s house is a 15 minute drive from mine so i had to leave now if i was going to make it. i hate to admit it, but the gnawing feeling of anxiety and nervousness was finally hitting me.
usually when i’m over at guys houses, it’s very chill and i’m not worried because theres no reason to be. however, this time i’m actually nervous because i’m actually into the guy i’m seeing.
sure we only met officially today, but he’s hot, nice, and he has weed. what’s not to love?
as i drive up to harry’s house and see a decently sized house with a couple cars parked outside. i park on the street and touchup my makeup before walking up to the front door.
before i can chicken out and run away i ring the doorbell.
after a few seconds i hear someone run down the stairs and open the door. there, looking hot as ever, is harry. he’s wearing a white wife-beater tank top, and of course, the heavenly gray sweatpants.
it takes every ounce of self control in my body not to check him out.
“oh hey y/n. come in.” harry smiles at me and opens the door so i can enter his house. i step inside and see the typical suburban house. it’s very clean and there’s voices coming from the kitchen.
“thanks for letting me come over” i look up at harry as he is closing the door behind me.
“yeah for sure. cmon let’s go upstairs you don’t want to meet my parents.” he smirks and nods towards the staircase.
“okay” i nod and follow him up the staircase towards his room. it’s always fun going to other people’s houses and seeing little glimpses of what they’re day-to-day life is really like. it’s easy to put on a persona at school and hide yourself, but at your own home it’s impossible.
harry’s house is extremely nice. his parents have to be doctors or something because this is definitely upper middle class. there are pictures across the walls, awards for each person in the family, and paintings. It looks like harry has a sister… cute.
“that’s pretty.” i say pointing towards the large pairing hung in the middle of the wall. the painting really is beautiful. it was a picture of what looked like the New York skyline at sunset.
harry turns around and looks at the painting and then me. “oh yeah. my mom made that.”
“really? she's talented” i smile and continue following him down the hallway towards his room.
“hm yeah she’s an artist. we have a fuck ton of paintings around the house.” harry shrugs and opens the door to his room with me trailing behind him. “anyways… this is my room. just sit anywhere while i grab my shit.”
i nod and plop down onto the beanbag chair next to his desk. harry hums quietly as he goes over to his drawers and starts rummaging through them. harry’s room is decorated completely with posters, a guitar hung on the wall, and pictures pinned up.
i couldn’t help but admire him for a minute. it really was surprising to me how attractive this man was. theres cute guys, and then theres hot guys… like harry.
he continues looking through his drawers for a minute before pulling out a small paper baggie. i watch him put a couple things into it and then walk over to me.
i take the bag from harry gratefully and look up at him. “how much do i owe you?” i ask while pulling out my wallet.
harry shakes his head and sits down on his bed. “how about you smoke a joint with me and we’ll call it even?”
“really? that sounds like a win-win for me and a lose-lose for you. it’s fine harry i can pay.” i protest while opening my wallet and looking at him expectantly.
“mm nope. sounds like a win-win to me. i get to supply you so you don’t go to that weirdass freshman and i get to smoke with the pretty girl from my math class." he smirks and pulls out a joint shaking it between his fingers teasingly at me. “it’s alright y/n first times on me.” i roll my eyes but sense that he’s not going to give in and let me pay him.
“fine, fine, but next time i’m paying okay?” i never felt good about taking things for free. it made me feel like i owed a large debt to them in the future.
“sure whatever you say, love.” harry shrugs and pulls out his lighter and then pats the spot on the bed next to him. “now get up here with me so you can pay up.”
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ 2 hours later ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
how did i end up straddling harry’s lap? good question! i have no fucking idea.
it started out chill. we were passing the joint back and forth while having a casual conversation. we talked about the bitches at our school, our summer plans, blah blah blah.
it was all going great and chill until harry decided to switch things up. maybe it was the fact that we are both baked, maybe it’s that we’ve had a weird sexual tension since this morning, but it switched up so fast.
it first started when harry made a comment about my lipgloss.
“hm i’ve never had strawberry pot before.” harry smirks and hands the joint back to me. i look at harry confused for a second trying to figure out what he meant.
“what do you mean?”
“i mean… you’re pretty pink lipgloss is getting all over it and it’s making it taste sweet.” he has the most smug look on his face as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.
i roll my eyes as harry teases me about my lipgloss. “quit acting like you don’t like it.”
“i never said i didn’t like it! i was just saying, i think i have some lipgloss on too.” he chuckles and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. there was, in fact, lipgloss. oops.
i’m too high to even care so i just start giggling at harry’s fake angry expression. my giggling pulls a small smile onto harry’s lips.
“hey! i’m just trying to be a good friend here. you need to moisturize your lips regularly curly.” i erupt into a fit of giggles as harry simply smirks and takes another drag.
“oh you’re such a good girl trying to keep my lips moisturized.” harry rolls his eyes sarcastically and hands me the joint. i take it him from him and take another hit letting the smoke fill my lungs before turning back to harry.
“seriously harry, i’m a great friend. girls won’t kiss you if you have crusty ass lips.” i try to say that with a serious and straight face but i instantly burst out laughing again.
“wow what would i do without you?” he chuckles and takes the joint from me. “you know now that i’ve tasted your lipgloss… i kind of want to taste those pretty little lips of yours.” harry grins and taps his index finger agains my lips lightly.
i smile and shift so i’m sitting on harry’s lap straddling his hips. “that’s fine with me.”
harry puts the joint down on the ashtray next to his bed and rests his hands on my hips. “really that’s okay with you?”
“mhm” i nod and bring my hands up to play with his curls. harry’s green eyes search mine for a second before placing his hand on my cheek. he hums and traces his thumb carefully across my bottom lip.
“such a pretty thing hm.” he smirks and leans his head forward nudging my nose with his. i smile and play with his curls.
“so… can i have a kiss petal?” harry cups my cheek and leans in. without hesitation i lean in and connect our lips. harry sighs against me and holds my head close to him.
i wrap my arms around his neck and deepen the kiss opening my lips to him. harry bites my bottom lip and pulls away for a second. i smile and look at him. “you’re a good kisser”
harry hums softly and kisses me on the jaw making me blush slightly. his hands grip my hips lightly has his kisses make their way down my neck.
“so fucking pretty, you know that? i’m obsessed with you” harry mumbles against my neck. “how did i not ask you over sooner?”
i smile and shift my hips so i’m sitting closer against him, a light blush painting my cheeks. “you should’ve. i would have said yes.”
“hm that right? i’ll keep it in mind.” he smirks and pulls my hips against him. his kisses continue to travel down my neck before stopping at my collar bone.
“lay down for me y/n” he says while kissing my neck.
i roll off harry’s lap onto my back onto his bed. he smiles and crawls over me. he props his arms up on either side of my head. harry looks so hot above me.
“can i taste you petal?” his bright green eyes turn dark filled with lust as he looked at me desperately. i nod eagerly and press my lips against him once more.
“please harry, need you.” i let out a soft moan as harry nips at my neck and travels down my body until he’s between my legs.
“gonna let me see you y/n?” he asks before pulling down my jeans and tossing them off the bed. i nod and watch as harry smirks up at me. his eyes travel down from my eyes to my core.
“so fucking pretty i swear.” he hums and presses a kiss against my clothes center. i moan quietly as his lips travel down my panties before pushing them to the side.
he pulls my panties to the side and lets out a groan as he presses a sweet kiss to my clit. i gasp and hold harry’s hair tightly.
“you taste so sweet baby.” he hums against my clit, sending vibrations up my body. i tug harry’s hair to escape the delicious torture but he just smiles up at me and continues kissing me. his thick ring clad hands holding my hips against his face.
“please harry- ” i whine and press my hips up against him. he sticks his tongue out flat and runs it up my pussy while keeping eye contact with me.
he pulls away for a second and grabs the joint for a second. his lips wrap around it taking a deep hit while watching me sit there impatiently. he smirks and pulls the joint from his lips pushing it between mine. “hold that for me petal.”
i take the joint willingly and take a hit while harry reconnects his lips with my core. i let out a groan as harry sucks my clit between his lips just as he did with the joint.
my body is racked with pleasure as harry hungrily sucks on my bundle of nerves. my hand holds his curls tightly as he eats me like a starved man.
“fuck harry!” i gasp as harry pushes his middle finger into my tight hole. he continues lapping at my clit while pumping his finger into me. the ring resting at the bottom of his finger left a cool sensation run through my body.
“how are you so bloody wet?” he moans against my core while adding a second finger to the mix. my pussy clenches against him greedily as the sensations filled my heat.
harry moves his fingers faster while wrapping his lips around my clit once more. my hips buck up against him searching for the last bit of stimulation needed before i could let go.
“fuck m’gonna cum harry!” i gasp as he speeds up.
“that’s it pretty girl. let go for me, i wanna taste your sweet mess.” he smirks up at me and adds a third finger. this pushes me over the edge, my body consumed with pleasure. harry helps me ride out my orgasm by lapping at my core gently.
he crawls up my body and hovers over me. “i need to feel you baby. is that okay?” he whispers as he presses kisses to my neck.
i nod and wrap my legs around his hips, pressing my core to the front of his sweats. “please harry.”
harry groans and pushes his bulge against me for some relief. “okay petal. gonna fuck you.” he quickly tugs his sweatpants down and kisses my neck. “ready baby?”
i nod eagerly watching him. he sighs and carefully pushes past my tight entrance. my body eagerly welcomes him as i hold onto harrys shoulders tightly for support.
“oh fuck harry!” i groan as he pushes in all the way. he’s much thicker and longer than i thought he would be. my walls tighten against him tightly as he pushes to the hilt.
“so tight and wet for me.” he sighs and pulls back so it’s just the tip left in. harry moves his hand from my wait to my stomach so it’s resting just below my belly button.
as he pushes back into my cunt his large palm presses down on my stomach. at this angle i’m able to feel all of the veins and ridges decorating his cock. a loud whine slips past my lips as harry continues fucking into me.
he quickly brings a hand to hold over my mouth while the other continues to press down on my stomach. “shh i love hearing your sweet moans baby, but we can’t let my parents here.”
he picks up the pace, and the only sounds heard are the obscene squelching coming from where harry is fucking into me. he changes his angle a little bit and my body instantly floods with pleasure as i gasp.
“there it is.” he smirks and continues pounding into me at that angle. the tip of his cock perfectly hitting my spot as i moan into his hand.
harry moved his hand away from my mouth and brings it down to play with my abused clit. he groans as i clench around him and he picks up the pace.
“so- fucking- tight” he groans and pushes his face into my neck to muffle his moans. his hips continue to snap up into my mine while his fingers move quickly against my bundle of nerves.
i’m so overstimulated from the orgasm before this, so it doesn’t take long for my second to build up. “harry!” i whine as his hips move against mine furiously.
“yeah? gonna cum again for me? that’s good baby, m’gonna cum for you.” he moans against my neck and keeps his quick pace up.
my walls clench around his thick cock tightly as my body finally releases. i bite down onto harry’s shoulder gently to muffle my moans. harry groans out and thrusts a few more times sloppily before letting his release paint my walls.
we both ride out our orgasms slowly for a couple minutes. before harry pulls away shakily and speaks. “we’re doing that again”
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
2 months have past since harry and i first got together. it’s an understatement to say we enjoy each others company. as y/bsf/n said, we’re “fucking like bunnies”
if we weren’t at harry’s house, i was sneaking harry in through my window. luckily, harry’s parents were very chill and always let me come over. i’d really grown to like his mom, sister, and dad. my parents however, had NO knowledge of harry. if they did, i’d be dead.
harry and i are currently cuddled up in my bed at 1am. i always had to wait until my mom and dad are asleep before letting harry in through my window.
so, here we are now, wrapped up in each other whispering about dumb things.
“ugh anyways i hate her bitchass.” im currently complaining to harry about a girl in our class that’s being an ass to me.
“me too.” harry whispers back. his arms wrapped around my waist so im pulled against him. his tight embrace comforts me like nothing else. i can almost forget all the shit i endure at school when i’m with him.
“you don’t even know her.” i giggle as harry presses kisses to my jaw.
“doesn’t matter. i hate anyone who fucks with my girl.”
i roll my eyes and smile at harry’s cheesy comments. he pulls me closer and kisses the top of my head. i cuddle into his chest as he starts talking about other things.
“i’m so obsessed with you baby.” he whispers against my neck making goosebumps travel down my spine.
“i’m obsessed with you too.” i grin and kiss a sweet kiss to harry’s cheek. in all honesty it is much more than that. i can feel it, im very quickly falling in love with harry.
“good, because you’re mine now.” he whispers and kisses my neck.
it was WAY too soon to tell harry i loved him. i mean for fucks sakes, i’ve only known him for a few months. he is just one of the few teenage boys that has ever been truly kind to me.
harry and i continue talking about mindless things. both of us are too wrapped up in each other to realize how late it is.
“WHAT THE FUCK?”
my door is burst open as light pours into the room. i immediately sit up and panic fills my body. my dad and mom stand there looking furious as the see harry sitting there next to me.
“i- uh” i don’t even know what to say in this situation. my parents are NOT easy going people. this is quite possibly, the worst case scenario.
“who the fuck is he?” my mom yells as he sees harry sitting up. my dad is completely dead silent which is even scarier to me.
“i-im sorry- this is harry.” i say quietly.
“harry? oh so you’re bringing random guys into your room?” my mom yells loudly.
“no mom! this isn’t a random guy! this is harry, my boyfriend.” i quickly stand up and stand between my parents and harry. i give harry a look saying ‘don’t talk’
“YOUR BOYFRIEND?” she looks absolutely furious screaming her head off at me. my dad is completely silent and just glaring at me and harry.
“i’m sorry okay? we’ve been together for two months and we really like each other.” my eyes are begging my mom to stop yelling in front of harry.
instead, my dad steps in. “how could you bring a boy into your room? let alone be sleeping in the same bed as him!”
“i’m so sorry. i just really like him and wanted to spend time with him!” harry is quietly watching, not interfering with our argument.
“NO! you cannot see this boy anymore! get him out of my house!” my dad yells and points at harry.
“w-what? daddy please no!” i beg him.
“no! you went behind our backs and brought a boy in our house!”
“that’s because i knew you wouldn’t let me see him! please don’t do this!”
“yeah you’re damn right i wouldn’t let you see him. i don’t want my daughter getting knocked up at 18! you’re not even out of high school yet!”
my eyes prick with tears as i desperately try to defend harry. without thinking, the words slip out.
“but daddy i love him!”
everyone freezes. i feel guilt and embarrassment flood my body as the words spill from my lips. my moms mouth drops as she looks between harry and i. my dads angry face dissapears as he looks at me in disbelief. harry is sitting there with a small smile on his face.
“you what?” my dad looks at me with utter disbelief.
“i- i-,” i hesitate and glance at harry. he looks overjoyed at my words despite the situation. “i love him…”
“you love this kid? why? you’re a teenager y/n! you don’t know shit about love!” my dad says firmly.
fuck it
“yes i do dad! i know that harry makes me 10x happier than anyone else on the planet! i feel so completely happy when we’re together! that’s why i brought him over tonight. i was having a shitty day at school and needed to feel happy for once.”
i let out all my emotions to my parents telling them how much i love harry. “you can’t make me stay away from him! i love him!”
my parents look shocked at everything i say to them. they turn to each other and whisper quietly. i stand there unsure as they talk. harry remains silent as he stares at me with a small smile.
“okay y/n… maybe we’re a bit too strict with you” my mom says quietly. “you’re 18 you can have a boyfriend.”
“r-really?” this was coming from the same woman that wouldn’t even let me have a boys number in my phone until i was 16.
“yes. you deserve to be happy. we’re just looking out for you honey. we don’t want you to make a mistake and end up pregnant at 18.”
i nod and look at them with eyes full of gratefulness. “so i can have harry over to the house now?”
my dad sighs and rubs his forehead before nodding. “just no sex under my roof, okay? i don’t want a grandchild yet.” he glares at harry.
harry nods and finally speaks up. “of course sir. i care for y/n a lot. she’s an amazing person and i plan on taking care of her.”
he looks at my mom and then back to me and harry. “fine. but no more sneaking through the window, got it?” he looks at me sternly.
“yeah of course!” i grin and hug my dad tightly. “thank you.”
“okay y/n… walk him out for the night. we’ll continue this conversation later.”
i nod and pull away. my parents exit the room and head towards their bedroom. i turn back to harry and smile.
harry smiles back and gives me a peck on the forehead.
“i love you too petal.”
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
hope you loved this! i definitely plan on writing more for this story.
(i was a lil high when i wrote this so ignore the bad parts hehe)
- xoxo
#harry styles#x0xomady#harry styles smut#harry edward styles#one direction#dom harry styles#fanfiction#smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x oc#harry styles imagine#harry smut#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#stoner!h#weedry#one direction imagine#hsmut
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hey! Idk if u take requests but I love your writing style and have a request! Can you do a Spencer x fem reader where she doesn't work for the Bau but they have been together for like 7 months and she is girly and like loves fashion and is superrr pretty and the team doesn't know about her but they see Spencer out with her one day and can't believe he's with her/has a gf bc they're so different and they tease him about her bc he's just head over heels in love with her and they are so obsessed with each other and it's just so cute!!! Thank you in advance!!!!🤍🤍
yes, i do take requests! thank you for the kind words, and i hope you enjoy this one <3
picture perfect.
you work shifts at a local coffee shop where a man frequents every friday evening. at first glance, the two of you are polar opposites; while you are covered in flowery pastel colors head to toe, he dresses strictly in professional attire. when love eventually blossoms between you and the doctor, he makes every effort to be with you – even when teased by his coworkers.
pairing :: spencer x fem!reader
warnings :: none? some suggestive overtone.
word count :: 2.3k
author’s note :: this is probably the fluffiest text i’ve written by far, i swear i’m biting straight into cotton candy. fingers crossed that i’ve portrayed the story well…
accompanying song :: the perfect pair by beabadoobee
he doesn’t know how to deal with these unfamiliar feelings, especially when they’re eating away at his thoughts at work. his usual ability to read at 20,000 words per minute seems to be reduced to half its pace for almost seven days now, one of his worst nightmares in full action. he doesn’t know what to think when your bubbly face lights up in his head – when your pretty features accentuated by the glowy highlights around your eyes and the soft glassiness of your pink lips etch into his imagination. thoughts of you come to light like a switch in his head, and they pop up during the worst times, including a police chase on the highway, an interrogation with a female unsub that styled her hair similar to yours, and worst of all, whenever he tries to make coffee in the office. it’s almost a pavlovian response, the way he unconsciously gulps in tingling nervousness as he pours the sugar into his cup.
but he’s a man that thinks with his head, a man that doesn’t listen to his heart.
he’s a man that thinks with his head. when you hand over his usual, dark espresso with three sugar packets on the side, with the words cheer up, doctor reid! <3 scribbled with winged hearts all around the cup, he has to excuse himself and run to the bathroom. there, he spends ten minutes clenching his shirt, squeezing the fabric with sheer strength because you and your actions are irresistibly adorable. he can’t look in the mirror, because he sees you standing right next to him in the reflection, and it drives him crazy.
he’s a man that thinks with his head. when he enters the coffee shop on one friday afternoon with a cut near his left brow, you immediately stop what you’re doing and go over to his table before he can even settle down in his seat. you insist on covering the wound, and you pull out a pink flower-patterned bandaid from your apron pocket. he watches as your hands lightly tremble to remove the adhesive strips, and melts at how you brush his hair aside to press the bandaid lightly against his forehead. it only takes a whiff of your vanilla scent to lose all sense of time and his surroundings – he can only look up into your heavenly eyes, which blink slowly in the hazy lighting.
he’s a man that should think with his head. when he sees you wearing an outfit that isn’t your coffee shop apron for the first time, he stops dead in his tracks.
it was late that friday, and it was well past his usual time to enter the shop, but he could never let a full week pass without surrounding himself in your jolly aura.
as you prepare to close the blinds and flip the store sign, you see a familiar face press a hand to the other side of the front door. you immediately let him in, and he’s frantically apologizing for his tardiness.
“it’s completely fine! i’ll get your regular going in just a second!” your bubbly laugh fades as you head back to the counter, and for the first time, he soaks in the emptiness of the shop’s usually chatter-filled environment. there’s only one overhead light turned on, and the scent of lavender drifts with a candle’s airy smoke.
he’s fixated entirely on your outfit. you’re wearing a ruched top with pink laces and frills for straps, and paired with a pleated mini skirt with knee-length socks, you’re a beautiful sight to behold. when you catch him looking, you strike a small pose, one hand on your hip and an empty coffee cup on the other. you then burst into your soft giggles.
he can’t. he absolutely can’t.
his eyes are glued down to where his hands are clasped on the table. when you ask him if he’s had a rough day, he answers with a simple two-word response, sort of. you don’t question him further, and he’s thankful you don’t.
if he believes in anything other than science, it’s aphrodite and her blessings to bestow your pluperfect presence before him. it’s as if cupid shot an arrow directly into his heart, or if a mage cast an irrevocable spell on him. he doesn’t want to imagine a life without you.
and every night since then, he wonders if you have a boyfriend. he wonders if he could somehow ask garcia to search you up, but he knows he shouldn’t exploit his position to take his chances with you. at least his head doesn’t want to.
his heart tells him to take a chance.
he decides to take the leap of faith.
he knows your favorite flower, clothing brand, and lip tint like the back of his palm. he recites the answers every morning, a secret rehearsal he conducts as he straightens his tie in front of the mirror. he makes a purchase from your favorite flower shop a few blocks away from your store, and sucks in a deep breath before flicking his watch so it rolls up his wrist. he gently presses on the door handle.
you’re busy as usual, preparing cups and plating desserts for each customer. the line moves forward with a rhythmic pace, and you greet each customer, regulars and first-timers alike, with the same smile. your eyes enlarge when your favorite customer stands in front of the cash register, and the sight of his face instantly transmits a sigh of relief from your lips. you look down at his hand, where you notice he’s holding your favorite flowers that are wrapped tightly in pink gift paper.
“ah, didn’t know you liked those too!” you lower your head to examine the flowers in their full glory, and spencer even brings them up to your nose so you can smell the sweet scent.
“they’re for you, actually.” he speaks matter-of-factly, but there’s a hint of excited overtone.
“you got these… for me? i- thank you so much! you didn’t have to!” you hurriedly accept the bouquet as he extends his hand over the counter, and set the flowers down on a neighboring table. you scurry over to the cake display and plop a slice of cake on a small plate, before handing his usual drink with extra sugar on the side.
“all on the house!” your lips shape up into a beautiful crescent shape, and he finds himself fiddling his watch to resist looking you in the eye. he gives you a lopsided smile, and nervously grabs two forks from the counter before leaving you a ten dollar bill in your tip jar.
“i-if you’d like, you can come find me during your break. we can have the cake together… again, that’s only if you’d like,” his fingers jitter as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and before you can object, he’s making strides back to his seat.
when it’s break time, you find spencer in his usual corner, his cake left untouched.
“you shouldn’t have waited, really,” you grab a tall stool and set it so you’re sitting with your knees touching his. he looks up from his book, time and eternity by seiichi hatano.
“this is your favorite dessert, isn’t it?” he moves the plate towards you so you can take the first bite. when you do, staring right into his eyes as your tastebuds hit the fork, he instinctively licks his lips.
spencer tells you that he needs to get something off his chest.
“what is it?” you ask, and he points to your apron. loosen the knot behind your back, he tells you, and you do. you feel a note twisted in between the fabric, and you confusedly uncrumple the crinkled paper.
it reads, will you be my girlfriend?
the dot of the ‘i’ in girlfriend is drawn in with a shaded heart, and you bite your lip back as the cute aggression kicks in.
you don’t even hesitate. you have so many questions about how the paper’s even got there in the first place, but you couldn’t care to ask. you’re fervently nodding at him, leaning in and giving him a tight embrace. he hadn’t expected you to react so quickly, so he hesitates for a brief second before wrapping his arms around you.
present day, and he walks with you side-by-side, your hand enclosed in his. you’re humming a soft tune and he’s looking at you with a wide grin on his face. he’s so lucky to have you, an absolute dream come true. he’s grateful for how he gets to spend every night with you, a significant advancement from once every week at the coffee shop.
speaking of the coffee shop, it’s been seven months since the two of you sat together in the quaint corner of the café, and since then, he’s utterly fallen for you. his eyes follow your every move, and he listens as you ramble about your favorite dress on sale at the large shopping mall a few blocks from the apartment. while he makes mental notes of all of your favorite items, the reality is he’s finding it to be an incredible struggle trying to focus on your words. his focus hones in on your exposed neck with a laced choker wrapped around. it’s such a fragile piece of fabric, weighted with a heart-shaped locker with his initials. his initials.
he gulps. he wants to stick a finger between the fabric and your neck, and he wonders what it’s like to have you wrapped around his finger, so intimately linked.
just as his thoughts intensify, a voice breaks out from across the street.
“reid!”
you squeeze spencer’s arm as a group of well-dressed people approach the two of you, waving while their mouths hang open in surprise.
“there’s no way i’m seeing you on a shopping spree right now!” a woman with straight jet-black hair grins, her thumb hooked on her belt loop as she leans to one side. a woman with blonde hair and red glasses sporting a colorful spotted dress shortly joins the union alongside another man, who exudes a mysteriously charismatic air with his bold sunglasses.
they acknowledge your presence each with a handshake and introduce themselves.
“you never told me you were seeing someone,” morgan whistles, patting spencer on the shoulder.
spencer’s quiet during the entire exchange, and he mumbles quietly about how he’s busy helping you run errands.
“you guys moved in together yet?” the man continues to ask, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he smirks. you nod and gleefully say yes, to which spencer lets out a squeak.
“oh would you look at that! our little spencer’s all grown now! my man,” morgan leans in for a side-hug, and spencer awkwardly bows his head down. his entire face is now red, his lips buried in the soft texture of his scarf. garcia and emily look at you and spencer with an awestruck expression.
“where’d you find such a beautiful woman?” emily points a finger at you while interrogating spencer, and while you’re sure she’s just being nice, you can feel the heat surfacing from your cheeks.
“shut up, emily,” your boyfriend puffs, and he quickly grabs your hand and shoves it in his pocket. he mouths, let’s go, but you’re too polite to leave a conversation that hasn’t formally ended.
“aww, is our hollywood genius shy?” morgan prods at spencer’s arm, while spencer brushes his hand off with an annoyed expression. meanwhile, the girls compliment your style and continue to shower you with questions, asking you where you were headed to and how you met spencer.
“well, i’m glad to know you’re a beautiful person, inside and out. i sort of knew spencer was seeing someone, but i didn’t expect any of this. you’re the cutest woman i’ve ever encountered, and i’m sure spencer’s overjoyed to have someone like you,” garcia talks excitedly and grasps your hands in her palms.
“and i’m lucky to have met someone like him.” you smile sweetly, tilting your head to look at spencer. he’s looking at the ground as if it’s more interesting than the conversation at hand.
“take care of him for us, will you?” morgan winks at you.
“of course.”
“and remind him every day that he’s with the most beautiful person in the world.”
you feel a tug at your jacket, and you turn around. spencer’s face is lit up with a deep shade of pink, and you know he’s signaling that he wants to head home. you quickly turn to the group to tell them you have to go, and they nod understandingly. garcia offers a tight embrace and pouts as spencer practically pries you away from her.
when the two of you turn the corner, he looks back over his shoulder to make sure his coworkers are out of sight. he then encloses you in a tight embrace and kisses your forehead.
“i’m sorry about that sudden… encounter,” he speaks into your ear, and you feel your heart flutter. your eyes close momentarily, and when you open them, he’s peering down at you while his hand rubs up and down your arm.
“don’t be, i enjoyed talking to them,” you whisper back, staring into his steady gaze.
“i’m sorry for not telling them earlier, but i really meant to. i love you... so much.” he vocalizes the last five words with a breathy tone, and you freeze, replaying the moment over and over again in your head.
they’re words you wish could be assembled and framed on a wall, transformed into something tangible that captures the picture-perfect moment of his romantic confession.
“tell me that a hundred more times when we get home.” you give him a cheesy grin before you blush at the realization of your own words.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fluff#dr spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#mgg x reader
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Pretty Thing - Cooper Howard (Ghoul) x Reader
Summary: You’re a shiny, pretty prize worth more caps than can be counted on ten hands altogether. There’s something special about you, and the Ghoul is determined to figure out just what it is.
Notes: I’ve been wanting to write for this cowboy for days now and I’ve finally come around to it. Cowboys are my specialty lately <3. Lmk if u love this and I’ll write more (feel free to leave me lots of comments and interactions, I love those!!)
A03 | masterlist
pretty thing…
“Well lookie here, seems you vaulties ain’t as perfect as you promise to be, huh?”
A furrow of chocolate brows, offense and confusion from sweet Lucy MacLean. This vault promised development in weaponry that the new world had never seen before. It was a thing of storybooks, the kind of thing her dad told her right before her head hit the pillow.
Now, here she was; and it wasn’t a caged weapon she was staring at… no, but rather a caged person.
“This violates all of our policies…” she muttered softly, worry stitched in her soft features as she looked on at the mangled cowboy beside her.
“Tsk tsk, sweetheart. You oughta be more careful with trustin’ these shit-eating freaks. Ain’t you learned your lesson first time round?”
Lucy sighed, falling to her knees and grazing a warm hand against the metal. She looked on at you with pity. Weak, hazy you.
How did you end up in this predicament? You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.
It was as if the entirety of everything you’d ever known was only stitched within your brain in jagged, disorderly flashes. This had to be one too. A flash.
A vault dweller and a ghoul, side by side.
It was most certainly a flash.
“What do we do, coop?” The brunette wondered, doe eyes gazing up at the mangled creature. He only smirked.
“We split. You find your precious tin-man you can’t stop yappin’ bout… and I’ll snatch up this dyin’ cargo. Comprende?”
Lucy had come to trust him, and maybe it was a stupid thing to do. Reality was, though, he’d kept her alive this far. Maybe she owed it to him to follow orders. With a huff, she parted— and then?
It was just you and the ghoul.
Heavy footsteps circled your metal cage, like shark to labored minnow. You were far too exhausted to pick up those pretty eyes of yours from the ground they gazed at.
Chains wrapped round your wrists and ankles, cold metal burned against your spine and cheek. There were two ghouls in your peripheral vision, and each one was the same amount of horrifying.
The footsteps halted, and suddenly the mangled, noseless blur was clear as day before you. Kneeled to your level, observant— cold.
“Well well— look at you, huh? Pretty thing. Now I understand takin’ precautions but damn, sweetie. That’s a lotta chains, hm? What’s so scary bout’ you?” He whispered the last part, thread laced finger lifting to slowly push a loose locket of hair from your dampened face through the cage.
You blinked, forcing your gaze upward so to try and meet his eyes. It was exhausting.
He observed you like you were a foreign object, a diamond in the radiated rough.
“I’d wager to say that you’re just the weapon we was lookin’ for, ain’t you?”
God, he didn’t know just how right he was.
If there was one certain thing you could remember clear as day, laced through the flashes, it was your powers. Each and every one of them, laying dormant now.
You were far too poked and prodded, too drained to even think of lifting a finger.
“Been doin’ this for centuries, pretty thing. Centuries and I ain’t ever seen this kinda experimentation on a little fawn. Hm. Guess you was just unlucky.” His breath was warm as it hit your face. Musing and eyeing your exhausted, slumped figure. Observant, taking his time. Your keepers would be coming soon— he didn’t seem worried.
“Tell you what. You look like you gon’ make me lots of money. So you’re comin’ with me. Don’t you worry, I prefer ropes stead’ of chains, sweetie. You’ll be nice n’ comfortable.”
The more he spoke, the farther away he sounded. You were aware he was a ghoul, that much was certain. Yet even so, no part of his voice, no part of his fading threats were even a little bit startling. No.
His voice was a soft yet strong southern drawl and god— it was far more comforting than the chains and cement floor you’d always known. Perhaps that’s why you let the exhaustion overtake you. Perhaps that’s why you closed your eyes.
Did it matter why? No. All that mattered was that you did.
The rest was a blur. The last thing you remember? Frayed ropes being wrapped round you tight as you were freed from your chains. Mangled, coat covered arms lifting you from the cement and golden teeth pressed against your aching ear to whisper:
“C’mon now, pretty thing…”
Then?
Slumber…
¿to be continued?
#cooper howard#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard x you#cooper howard x lucy maclean#cooper howard x female reader#cooper howard x y/n#the ghoul#the ghoul cooper howard#the ghoul x reader#the ghoul x you#the ghoul x lucy#the ghoul x oc#ghoul x lucy#ghoul x reader#ghoul x you#cooper howard fallout#cooper howard fanfiction#cooper howard fic#cooper howard imagine#ghoul fallout#fallout#fallout x reader#fallout x you#fallout ghoul#fallout ghoul x reader#walton goggins#walton goggins x reader#walton ghoulgins
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'Til Death (Remember Me in Your Will)
Rating: Mature (Minors Do Not Interact)
Words: 3.7k
Tags: David "Hesh" Walker/F!Reader, Sugar Daddy au, Dom/sub undertones, flirting
Summary: You start dating Hesh as a way to supliment your income. It's not like you've never sugared before, you know how to play this game. It's just too bad Hesh seems to have his own ideas about what this relationship is.
Next Chapter >
ao3
You’ve always been smart. You don’t know if you’ve always been pretty, but you try not to be too harsh on your younger self. You also have bills to pay. You’re fortunate enough to be doing what you love, working a job you’re passionate about, and getting paid shit all for it. Luckily you’re not the one paying your bills. You have sugar daddies for that.
Like you said, pretty, and smart enough not to rely on one stream of cash. You have a couple men you sugar for, all old enough to make sure they know you’re not looking for love, and with enough experience to get you off at the end of the night. It’s a good situation, everyone gets what they want, and you don’t worry about your job paying you barely above minimum wage. When one man drops you, you hit up your favorite sites for another. Which is how you got here, staring at Hesh with a cup of coffee held tight between your hands and a hangover that throbs like a lobotomy.
What you don’t know is how he got in, but you’re more focused on his offer than anything else. Drop the other men you sugar for to be his exclusively, and he’ll double every dollar they pay you monthly. You’re not greedy by any stretch of the word, but your mouth waters at the proposal. That’s a lot of money he’s laying on the table.
“And what about sex?” You ask him. It’s been months of dating him, and Hesh still hasn’t touched you. In fact the smoldering tension between you has made all your other relationships feel cold. Forcing you to rely on your toys after sex these days when your other daddies fail to perform. That doesn’t mean you want to cut it off cold turkey. You can’t, not when he still makes you throb eagerly even with the hangover migraine. If he doesn’t want you, there’s no deal.
There’s something steely in Hesh’s eyes when he leans forward, his elbows settling on his knees. His smile is wicked, predatory, it makes goosebumps prickle over your skin. Your blood runs hot, and follows his eyes as they drop to stare between your legs.
“Baby,” He purrs, “I’ll fuck you over this table right now, all you gotta do is say yes to me.”
(six months ago)
You check your makeup in your compact mirror. Not your favorite, but you find the men you date appreciate the femininity of it. There’s something terribly alluring about swiping your pinky over the corners of your lips with a compact mirror in hand, and you don’t get that sort of sex-out-of-the-bag flavor with your phone camera. You really need all the cards you can get tonight too. You’ve got a date with a new man, a new sugar daddy. You don’t usually go for them when they’re this close in age to you, but he seemed nice, and paid in advance(no strings attached), so you’re taking the chance on him. He offered to pick you up, but… you’re not about to get trapped in a car with a man you don’t know. It’s better having a quick escape route if the date goes south.
You snap your compact shut and tuck it neatly back into your purse when you spot your date. He hands his keys to the restaurant’s valet, and offers you a smile. He’s wearing a suit, you expected as much with the caliber of restaurant he suggested, but it’s nice being dressed up for. You hold your hand out in greeting as his long strides carry him close. You’re pleasantly surprised when his fingers grip yours and raise your hand to his lips. He just grazes your knuckles, his eyes heavy on yours as he kisses your hand. They’re green, you note. Not just his eyes either, his suit too. It’s so dark you’d mistaken it as black, but it’s green, and it makes his eyes positively electric looking.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” He smiles, dropping his hold on your hand and slipping his around your back as you turn to walk into the restaurant.
“I just got here,” A white lie, you got here with ten minutes to spare, never early or late for the men you date. Your date hums, his thumb rubbing against the small of your back, right where the zipper of your dress ends. His hand splays wide, his pinky grazing the swell of your ass. It sends a little shiver through you, the touch quickly removed as your date gives his name to the host.
“Walker.” He voice, sure and even, louder than the intimate softness of his voice when he’d greeted you, makes something warm slither down your spine.
“David Walker,” you feel the name over your tongue, adding the last name to the one he’d had on his profile. You feel the way his attention slips back to you heavily, it may as well be another hand with the warmth that it draws over you.
“My friends call me Hesh,” He sounds proud, but not like he’s puffing out his chest. There’s no bragging to the nickname, just the simple exchange of information.
He settles his hand on your back again when the host leads you to your table. The firm pressure not pushing you, not hurrying you, but steadying you. You wonder if he doubts your ability to walk in the heels you picked, or if he’s simply the touchy sort. You suppose you’ll figure it out soon enough. He pulls your chair out like a gentleman, helps you scoot in to the table, and takes his seat across from you without a wasted movement. You’ve never met a man that seemed so immediately comfortable in his own skin.
You suppose that comes with the territory. The men that pay you, pay you for a reason. You’re arm candy, or a kink, or an easy lay that’s a step better than a prostitute for men too important to “date down”. You know all sorts of men, but Hesh… Hesh seems like he could find a partner easily. Maybe it’s a time issue. You’ve only dealt with some of those. The type of man that doesn’t have the time in his life for dating. You slot the possibility into your mental file for Hesh, and settle your elbows on the table, leaning against them with a smile.
“So,” You draw the word out, give him time to eye the way your breasts push together against the low cut of your dress, “how was your day?”
It’s a simple question, one that never feels out of place, but busy men will always talk about their work. Hesh’s eyes drag over you, flicking to meet yours from their brief rest on your chest. He smiles, taking the menu set in front of him to look over as he speaks.
“I’m in the military if that’s what you’re askin’.” You feel yourself falter a little, regaining your composure, your smile, when he glances up at you.
“You must be busy,” You try, keeping your tone interested but light. You dislike intelligent men, the ones that can see through you, see through your questions, it makes it harder to play the game when both sides know the rules. But a date is a date.
“Hard to date with deployment looming,” He admits, or perhaps supplies, helping you build your mental catalog for him. You nod, you can see that. It would certainly make it hard to keep someone around without an incentive, hence the use of a sugar baby. Ah, got it. You file him neatly into the correct box and reach for your water glass.
“I can imagine,” You raise a brow, taking a sip, busy men like talking. Busy men tell you about themselves, what they can do for you, what you should do for them, how busy they are and how little time they have for you, as if you’re meant to be grateful for every second they allow you.
Hesh waits. He sits patiently, watching you with interest as you swipe your thumb over the lipstick stain you’ve left on the rim of the glass. He’s quiet, observant. Unnerving. Busy men talk, and Hesh isn’t talking. He’s watching, taking you in like he has all the time in the world. He sets his menu down and laces his fingers together on the table. You wish you couldn’t feel the hesitance in your fingers as you take another sip of your water, delaying the inevitable.
“Do I make you nervous,” He asks after your third sip. There’s a keen evenness to his tone, low and deep enough to shiver goosebumps over your skin. You set your water down and plaster on a smile that feels as fake as you’re sure it must look.
“Of course not.”
“You done this before sweetheart?”
“Sugar?” You can feel Hesh’s hum, the warmth of it spreads through your chest, his eyes soft and his smile inquisitive. “Once or twice.” You lie.
“Once or twice,” He turns the words back to you. An interrogation technique you often employ during these sorts of things. It works though. You bite down the need to correct him, to tell him maybe it’s more than just once or twice.
“It’s hard to pay the bills with just my work.” You explain, though you’re not sure why. Something in your stomach flutters to explain yourself to this man, the desire shakes itself through your bones. He reaches for his own water glass, draws the moment out as you watch his Adam's apple bob with the motion of swallowing. You've done this a good dozen times, but no one has put you on your toes as quickly as Hesh has. You take the moment to give him a once over. There's a slight shadow over his jaw, we'll groomed stubble that feeds its way into close cropped brown hair. Young-ish, with an age to his eyes that makes you wonder what he's been through, what he's seen. He's just at what you would call “acceptably older” if you were actually dating him, but he still wears his youth in the gleam of his smile. He watches you like a hawk, and you in turn watch him like a rabbit.
“Non-profit, right?” Hesh confirms, and you nod, before quickly giving a verbal affirmative. Verbal answers are more confident, and you've done this too many times to be losing your confidence now. Hesh is outside of your normal routine, but a sugar daddy is a sugar daddy, and at the end of the day they all want one thing. A pretty thing on their arm. They don't care about what you do or who you are, as long as you go home with them at the end of the night. “Do you enjoy it?”
The question takes you off guard. Or, not the question itself, you've heard that a hundred times at least, it's the genuine interest disguised behind an impassive smile. You blink at him.
“I-” you don't give details about your work, they don't want details, you give the necessary ‘yes’ and move on to talking about him or playing footsie under the table, “I do it’s-”
Your waiter stops beside the table, and you feel Hesh's attention leave you like a weight falling off your chest. He speaks with conviction, orders wine for the both of you, and where you usually feel as though that sort of move is right out of a “how to show women you’re the boss 101” handbook, on him it feels natural. He’s used to commanding attention, to giving orders. No wasted breath, no wasted words. Hesh orders and you wonder if he’ll do the same for your meal.
“What did you say you did in the military?” You ask when the waiter leaves, and Hesh’s eyes feel all the heavier on you for your interest.
“We were talking about you,” He corrects. The way he sits and looks at you show a man that holds not just himself to high standards, but everyone else as well. The weight of his full attention is crushing now that you’ve felt it leave you, and yet it sparks something in you. A desire to please. A desire to live up to those expectations.
He’s here for you, you don’t want to disappoint him.
You’ve never had a conversation with a man who makes you feel so aware of yourself. You can feel the brush of fabric against your skin like a touch, and each breath you take seems to tease you as your dress pulls over your chest. And his eyes… He touches every inch of exposed skin he can with them, drawing warmth over you until you’re positively alight with want. You have to excuse yourself to the restroom. He stands with you, old school manners you’ve only seen in movies, and offers a hand to help you around the table. You think you feel the brush of his fingers over your hip, his touch burning through you even when you must have imagined it.
You fix your makeup in the bathroom mirror, attempt to clean up some of the mess you’re making in your panties. God. It’s been so long since you had a date that stoked the fire low in your stomach, a man that looked at you like something to be desired not just a sure thing. When’s the last time your date seemed so interested in you, asked questions to further your answers, brought up topics that related to something you’d mentioned and not just something he could brag about? When’s the last time you had a good date with a hot guy and weren’t worried about whether it would be worth your time?
God have you really not thought about the money this whole time? You’d been so swept up in the way Hesh spoke to you, the way he looked at you, that you couldn’t think of anything else. Even now you can’t help thinking of the way he’d purred, “Anythin’ you want,” when you’d asked what to order. The memory of his voice makes you press your thighs together. You want to know what he’d say to you without the filter of public decency. You want to know how he’d touch you behind closed doors.
He stands again when you make your way back to the table, waits for you to sit before taking his seat. You notice he’s barely touched his food since you left, only picking up his knife and fork when you do. You slot “slow eater” into your folder on him. It doesn’t matter you suppose, he sips his wine, always pours another swallow for you when you run low, and yet he seems to finish with you. His food is gone just a bite after yours is, and he leans against the table as the waiter whisks your plates away. Like he’s waiting for something.
It’s easy to slide your foot against his calf, easy to see the heat that burns in his eyes. You’re careful of your heel, but you’re well practiced in this game. He wants you, you know he wants you. That’s how these things work, pick a pretty girl off the site and take her home at the end. You get first right of refusal and some extra cash in your pocket, he gets to boast about the pretty thing he’s screwing.
“You hopin’ for something sweetheart?” Hesh catches your ankle under the table, firm fingers stopping you from trailing past his knee. His tone is casual, playful, his grip is not. “Gotta use your words like a big girl.”
“I’m hoping we can get the check,” You purr. Your dates usually rush for it, signal the waiter as quickly as they can to shuffle you into the back seat of their car, or the nearby hotel. You don’t think you’ve had a date ever end at dinner, the same way you’re sure you’ve never had a dinner last quite as long as this.
“We?” Hesh smiles, his thumb rubs your ankle, the friction making you shiver, “You offerin’ to split the bill little one?”
“Of course not Daddy,” the title falls from your lips with an invitation to touch further. You try not to stretch too obviously into his grip, feel the slip of your skirt as his fingers push up over your calf like a curtain drawing the evening to an end, “Just thought you might like to have dessert elsewhere.”
Hesh’s hand is warm and appreciative as it strokes your leg. You feel the drag of calluses, rough palms skating over your soft skin, and wonder how those thick fingers will feel once they’re inside you. Men like him… they like when you’re a little bold, they like knowing that you’re not too shy to avoid falling into bed on the first date. You’ve honed your edge against the predictability of the men you date, and you know you’re right by the way he catches the waiter’s eye and taps his fingers against the table.
You settle into the warm feeling of victory, and the knowledge that you’ve snagged another source of income. Not to mention the added benefit of sex. Hesh touches you with an idle sort of intimacy that makes heat throb between your legs, he touches you like it’s his right to, like he holds command over the how and when of it. You don’t think he’s the sort of man people often say ‘no’ to.
He drags his fingers over your shin, settling your foot against his knee as he takes his hand from under the table to take the check. It’s a bit of a stretch, the burn in your hamstring of keeping yourself looking presentably seated while still abiding by his placement is a wonderful precursor for the night ahead. You keep your eyes on him as he pays with barely a glance at the bill as he hands the waiter his card. The whisper of wealth. No, you don’t think people say ‘no’ to Hesh often. If ever.
Hesh slips his card back into his wallet as he stands, and moves around the table to offer you his hand. You don’t need it, but you like the way his fingers curl around yours, the firm grip he holds you with as you stand. You brush your hands over your skirt, letting the hem fall back into place. You don’t miss the way Hesh’s eyes follow the sway of your chest as you lean forward. Men are all alike, perfectly predictable.
You press close to his side, letting him feel the soft curves of your body as he leads you out of the restaurant. He hands the valet his ticket and you make a mental note to call one of your friends to come grab your car. Although you suppose you don’t have to spend the night, you can uber back here in an hour or so and grab it. The restaurant staff know you well enough they can let you park here for a bit.
“Are we going back to yours or finding a hotel?” You can’t say you aren’t interested in seeing where he lives, but a hotel is closer, and you’re ready to go.
“Neither,” Hesh hums, “you’re going home.”
He’s not- he’s not interested? Your confusion must read too clearly on your face because Hesh’s hand finds your waist and drags you close. You tip your head to avoid bumping your nose against him and he takes the motion as permission to kiss you. His lips searing yours as his hand squeezes the meat of your hip. You’re quick to wrap your arms around his shoulders, quick to press against the length of him, your chest to his, your hips to his. You can feel the thick twitch of his cock where you push yourself against it. (Fuck is that all him?) He’s like a furnace, radiating warm want that soaks into your skin. The night air feels freezing on your exposed skin
Hesh’s lips part, his breath a sigh as his head tips. The soft push of his lips against yours is exceedingly gentle for the hunger you can taste behind it. It shivers down your spine, aches in the creek of Hesh’s grip on your hips, a want that you can’t quantify. Your lips slide over his, his stubble tickling you a little as you part and kiss, part and kiss, again and again.
He presses, forces you to lean back, arching into him. You’re reliant on him to keep you standing, trusting your balance to a man you barely know. It makes your skin prickle, makes you want. You wiggle your hips, try to entice him to give you what you know he’s looking for, even slip your tongue in the part of his lips. His fingers tighten until you squeak with pain and pull away from the kiss.
He pulls you up, lets you go to take his keys from the valet. You can still feel his spit slicking your top lip, the tingle of his stubble against your bottom. You balk, the dark fabric of his suit does enough to hide the outline of his cock in the low light but you know what you felt. How can he just leave you like this?
“You’re serious.” You realize, and Hesh pauses with his hand on the top of his car.
“I am,” No wasted words. You hesitate, worry your lip between your teeth before you can stop yourself. Hesh waits you out, patient as a saint.
“But I thought-” You try to blink through your confusion, “I thought this went well.”
“It did,” Hesh smiles and it isn’t patronizing or pitying, but there’s something in it that doesn’t feel entirely friendly, “I’d like to get to know you better, that’s all sweetheart.”
You frown. The first genuine expression you’ve given him all night and it’s a furrowed brow. You fix your face before you lose the next date to your pouting. Hesh’s brows are heavy, his eyes lidding as he watches you. There is something dark and unreadable in the way he looks at you, something heady that makes you dumb. The chill rushes to you when he looks away, climbs into his car, and leaves.
#cod x reader#x reader#david walker#david hesh walker#david hesh walker x reader#hesh walker#hesh walker x reader#hesh cod#cod hesh#hesh x reader#sugar daddy!Hesh#f!reader
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Riddle + Yuu’s telepathy for an hour+ Floyd next to him= Why is Riddle looking like he is about to have another Ob?
He now know Floyd is into him, more wild if Floyd has the same 18+ thoughts as Jade. Riddle’s hair is becoming white and his cheeks go as red as his hair because Floyd is also thinking of the most domestic scenarios with him.
He can’t catch a fucking break.
Worse if Yuu and Jade are there. Holy fuck Riddle will die.
When you begged Riddle to let you test your new power and transfer your telepathy over for just a class period, he was just trying to be a good friend.
And he was mildly curious how your mind reading powers worked. He was under the assumption that you had to choose a specific person and listen into their thoughts for it to work. Which made your predicament with Jade all the more humorous to him. If you were so bothered by it all, then why did you listen in?
My cute little Riddle~ Aaaah, you're so bright. So red. I love your red hair, your red cheeks when your mad. Should I call you Goldfishie again? To piss you off? So you can yell at me with those pretty gray eyes and voice? Aha, maybe I should~
I think I should beg for the Prefect's forgiveness after this. I am so, so sorry. I didn't realize how bad it was.
Riddle had no clue how you handled the influx of noise, color, and feeling bashing into your head all day. It was like having a horn ringing straight into his ear while a truck's headlights flashed right in his eyes.
Even worse than that? He could make out the singular, most irritating noise, louder than the rest.
My little goldfish, my little tyrant, my little Riddle~
The bane of his existence. The enforcer of Octavinelle. Currently, the third-tallest student at Night Raven College.
"Uh, Riddle?"
Riddle took a deep breath, closing his eyes and turning towards Silver with a polite smile.
"Yes, Silver?"
Silver opened his mouth, closed it again as he paused, and opened it again.
"Are you alright?"
Cute little goldfish~ So bright and red~
"Yes." Riddle ignored the heat pooling under his face. "Why do you ask?"
"You're incredibly red right now. I think even your hair looks pink compared to your face."
Riddle made a strangled sounding noise as he buried his head into his arms and hid against the desk.
"Riddle?" Silver sounded concerned, and Riddle could sense his hands hovering over him, like he wasn't sure if Riddle needed a pat on the back, or to be left alone.
"I'm fine, I just need a moment—"
"Little Goldfishie~"
Riddle bolted up, his head nearly smacking against Floyd's chin based on the way the teal-haired man felt backwards.
"Wow! Cool it Goldfishie!" Aw, he's so cute! "Just tryin' to say hi~"
The image of himself in Floyd's arms and lap, nuzzled up against each other as the other contentedly played with his hands flashed in his head.
My goldfishie! My little red tyrant! My Riddle! Mine, mine mineminemineminemine—
"NO I'M NOT!"
The room went silent, everyone looking over at the group of three. Noticing that Riddle and Floyd were interacting, everyone shrugged and resumed their conversations after a moment.
"Uh, what?" Floyd looked and sounded confused. Now that Riddle was paying attention to him though, he could make out a soft look in his eye.
Aw, are you red 'cause you're sick? Is my mean little mate sick?
Mate? Mate?! MATE! OH GODS NO!
Do I gotta take you to the nurse? I can do it! Anything for my future mate! Aha~ I love my mate, I'll take such good care of you.
Riddle was met with another image of Floyd and himself in another...sweet scenario. One where Floyd was watching him sleep in with one of the most tender looks Riddle had ever imagined on Floyd's face. As he slept, Floyd played with the coral colored ring on his left ring finger.
"Nothing! It's nothing! I'm fine!" Riddle scrambled out of his chair, face still warm and his stomach nauseous.
"I think I'm just feeling a bit feverish, I think I will step out for a bit—"
"You want someone to take ya to the nurse?" Floyd asked, while Silver nodded along. "I can take ya, come on Lil' Goldfishie—"
"I DON'T NEED AN ESCORT!" Riddle shut his mouth as soon as he opened it, some of the other students giving him a look for his volume.
Aw what, come on! Floyd frowned, though it breifly was hidden by one of Floyd's lazy smiles as he shrugged.
"Whatever you say~" Floyd cooed, his eyes following Riddle as he rushed out of the classroom. Riddle could feel his entire body heating up, like Floyd knew that he knew.
Once he was out of the classroom, he near bolted to the nearest bathroom. Locking the door behind him, Riddle turned to look at himself in the mirror.
He was indeed his characteristic shade of red. Instead of his usual angry expression, though, was one of fluster and breathlessness.
Riddle let out a small, high-pitched whimper as he turned for the faucet for some cold water, splashing it on his face. He looked up at the mirror again, cheeks still bright red, and let out a whine.
I will never make light of you again, Prefect, I promise.
#mochi asks#twisted wonderland#twst#riddle rosehearts#floyd leech#floyd x riddle#florid#ptm#telepathy is all fun and games until your worst enemy starts having domestic thoughts about you two being married
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Hello! May I pretty please with sprinkles and chocolate on top request a soft, attention deprived yandere Satoru who wants nothing more than your attention, and affection? When you reject him, he literally starts to fall apart at the seams because he just can’t bring himself to force you into anything you don’t want to do.
Thanks!
This the second one today lol
hm. i need to learn to stop holding back in my writing
"I just.....I just don't think I'm ready to commit....to you." Satoru somehow had to box 1 million emotions crashing down on him. The feeling of his heart being torn into two, the feeling of anger, jealousy, confusion, sadness and mania just absolutely melting his mind. He had to shove all of these emotions into the little compartment called his heart and mask it all with general confusion. Confusion on why he couldn't be chosen? And it's worse that he knows exactly why.
"Oh.....well, that's okay. I know you're talking to that guy from earlier?" You give him a slightly awkward smile before it shifts into one of sympathy. He knows you care for him, but to love him...that's an entirely different thing. He gets it.
"Yeah, he is good for me. I'm glad you understand." He gives you a tired smile and nods with your words. "I'm flattered at your request, but maybe...not right now." Yeah, not ever. At least not with him around. He won't be here long, anyways. Better if you get your final thoughts of him out now.
"I love that you found someone, Y/n. You deserve it." Every word couldn't feel genuine, it was so fake scraping off of his tongue into your ears. He's surprised you haven't caught his lie yet. He watches you bashfully shrug at his words and his heart clenches in anger. So much anger, he has to take deep breaths. And even though they do absolutely nothing to the millions of fantasies of tearing that soulless human apart, the one second of your scent being caught in his nose does wonders to rid him of his pounding headache.
He doesn't say anything crazy when you shut the door after saying good night to each other, he doesn't do anything when he walks down your steps but he swears to himself the second he gets to the sidewalk that he will effortlessly make anyone who ruins his chance with you disappear from this planet without a second trace. That man doesn't deserve you. None of your ex's deserved you, fuck, your family doesn't deserve you either. No one understands you like he does. No one will ever reach the level of understanding he has of your entire life. He just....he just needs you so bad.
But he would never hurt you. He'll always be there when you need him. And if he has to get rid of Justin or Tyler or whatever that fuckface's name was just to get you even an inch closer to his general direction, then he'd take it. He'd take a grain of salt if you had even looked at it. He just needs you bad.
#yandere#yandere x reader#reader#yandere x you#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#yandere character#jujutsu kaisen x reader#Satoru gojo#gojo#gojo satoru#yandere gojo#yandere gojo x reader#yandere gojo satoru#yandere gojo satoru x reader#yandere jjk#yandere jjk gojo
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(but you) still tried to stay~ number neighbor!matt x reader part fourteen
it was the gnarliest spew of deja vu y/n had ever experienced, waiting outside for matt as he pulled up.
the only difference is that this time, she was preparing for the worst. preparing to do something she knew deep down she didn’t want to, but had to do anyway. there were tremors running through her body as his headlights flooded the parking lot, so she tightens the hold she had on herself. it was fake comfort, that she knew. she didn’t really deserve to be comforted right now as far as she was concerned.
matt gets out the car, rounding it and looking at her with an unreadable expression. y/n wants to kiss him— feel his arms around her at the very least— but she stays rooted in the spot she stands.
she’s looking everywhere but his eyes. his hair, which looks perfect, his car, which she’d been in, or his chin, which was dangerously close to his lips.
“you can’t just show up like this, matt.” her voice is low. she doesn’t want to speak too loudly, afraid he’d be able to hear right through her.
“tell me what’s happening.” he says, voice strong. he’s trying to catch her eyes, but she’s not letting him.
“matt-“
“it’s been days, y/n. i see that you’ve done a pretty good job of convincing yourself everything’s fine, but you can’t convince me.” there’s no bite to his words at all, but they still hurt. her worse fears, that she’d been hurting matt through the distance, are slamming into her like a freight train.
she feels herself panic when he takes a step forward. she doesn’t move, although she should. she should make this as easy and painless as possible, but she can’t help but want to be near him.
y/n tells herself it’s for old times sake, the way she lets him invade her space. the way she melts into his touch the tiniest bit when he places a hand on her jaw. she closes her eyes for a split second and imagines that things were different. that she was different.
but they aren’t. and neither is she. so she forces herself to move out of his hold. “we should stop this.”
she can see the shift in matt’s demeanor as his hand drops. “stop what?”
“this, matt.” she gestures between them. “talking so much. seeing each other.”
his scoff pierces something in her. “no, what is this, exactly?” he questions. “just asking cause it’s not like i can ever tell. not like you’ve ever called it what it really is.”
“you know what i mean.” she can hear the slight desperation in her voice. she knows just as well as he does what it is, what it’s been for a while. that was why she had to stop it.
“no, i don’t think i do, y/n.” she still can’t make herself look at him. she doesn’t want to see the anger on his face or worse, the hurt. “what is it? what have we been doing?”
she stays silent. she thinks about that quote, “is it better to speak or to die?” and she thinks that maybe death would be less painful than this. it sounds dramatic, she knows, but the anxious feelings clawing up her chest and squeezing at the base of her throat make her incapable of saying the words. saying what she knows he’s looking for. saying exactly what’s making her pull away in the first place. it feels reminiscent of dying, because she’s killing something beautiful before it has a chance to grow.
“cause to me,” he’s closer to her now. she can see the chain peaking through the collar of his t-shirt, can see the rise and fall of his chest. “this is something. it’s pretty much everything.”
she hates the way it makes her breath catch. it takes her off guard, his completely honest words. so much so, she makes the mistake of looking up at him.
his eyes are open, so fucking open she thinks she’s staring right down into the frail cavity of her chest, searching for what she was trying to hide. it makes her panic even more.
“what the hell are you running from?” he looks at her like it hurts him too. “why are you shutting me out?”
it’s a lie, what she says next. she knows it, and she’s pretty sure matt does too. “god, matt. it’s really not that big of a deal. we were talking. not together, not dating and not anything more than that.” the words taste like acid leaving her mouth. “stop acting like you’re fucking in love with me or something.”
matt reels back like she had hit him. his entire body shuts down. he rubs at his jaw, humorless laugh coming out. the kind of laugh where you can’t fucking believe what you’re hearing. when he looks at her this time, she wishes that the ground would swallow her up whole. “yeah.” it’s concrete feeling. final. “or something, for sure.”
he doesn’t say anything else as he walks away from her. he stops suddenly, looking back, it sears a hole into her chest, the way his eyes search her face. she feels herself shrink slightly, his gaze sweltering. she must look pathetic; arms wrapped tightly around herself, holding back tears.
but because he’s matt, he still looks at her like she’s the only thing he ever wants to see. his face softens, and he sighs. “whenever you’re ready, whenever you want to stop hiding, i’ll be here, y/n.”
it’s the last thing he says before he gets into his car and drives away from her.
y/n doesn’t know how long she stands there, watching the direction he drove off. it’s until her feet start to hurt, her eyes are long-since dry and her bones shake. only this time, it’s from the chilled wind whipping around her and not from the sickly weight of self-sabotage.
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❥ 𝙥 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧
trent frederic.
word count: 4.2k
warning: explicit content
"she wet in the shower" — gunna
A/N: this was an anonymous request for trent smut w/ a college student. so of course, i had to add some angst—makes it more fun. not to mention how much i love him, so who am i to deny it?! hope you enjoy! :)
- - -
“Do you think you’ll be able to come out soon?”
Trent’s hopeful tone of voice rang through the phone as you held it up to your ear, sitting comfortably in the quiet bedroom of your apartment. A pang of guilt washed over you. You already knew the answer, and it wasn’t the one he was looking for.
He and you first met when you were a freshman in college. He was a sophomore. You started dating quickly after. Now, you were a senior and he was playing in the NHL halfway across the country. But you lived in Wisconsin, so it wasn’t often that you got to see each other. It was difficult for him to visit during the team’s breaks, especially when the rest of his family was based in St. Louis. And you, on the other hand, were far too busy with work and school to make the extensive trips out.
“I don’t think so,” you finally sighed, pulling your knees into your chest. “I’ve been so busy, and I just—fuck, I miss you, but I can’t. And I’m so tight on money right now.”
“I’ll pay for it,” he pushed.
“Trent, I can’t,” you frowned, resting your chin on your knee. “Believe me—if I could, I’d already be there by now. It’s just…too much.”
A beat of silence followed, and you could practically picture the dejected look on his face. You knew he was still there—the soft noise of his breathing that came through the receiver told you so—but he waited to speak. He was running through any possible solutions in his head, yet not a single one was worthy of voicing.
“I want to see you,” he finally spoke. “I’m sick of only talking to you through the goddamned phone. It feels like this isn’t even real anymore.”
“Not real?” you asked, lips parted in shock. “Trent, what part of this isn’t real?”
“I—I don’t know. Look, I,” he breathed, “it’s just hard to watch all of the guys have their girlfriends here while mine is eleven hundred miles away and has barely even met any of them, alright?”
“Oh,” you spoke quietly, nodding your head as you took in his words. “So that’s it, huh? That’s the problem, isn’t it?” You fell back against your headboard, “You finally admit it, then. It’s because I’m not like them.”
“I never—”
“Oh, save it, Trent!” you shouted. “We knew this was what it would be like when the time came and we agreed to stay together. We agreed to make it work. Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed to even be able to visit and see you when I do?”
You swallowed thickly, “I have juggled so many things in the past year and all I wanted was a little bit of sympathy from you. Christ’s sake, Trent, I know it sucks. I know, okay? But I am trying so goddamn hard to find the time to just talk to you like this right now!”
“That’s my whole point,” he retorted firmly, his voice irritated. “It’s like I never see you anymore. And when I come back, I have to decide between seeing you or my family, and you always make me choose them. So it’s pretty fucking frustrating to see everyone else have their girlfriends or their wives there when you barely get to talk to yours,” he took a breath. “This barely feels like anything anymore.”
“What, so you’re just going to act like I’ve never done anything for you? Like I haven’t been working day in and day out to make as much time for you as I can? I did everything for you when you still went to school here and this is the thanks I get?” you firmly stood your ground. “Yes, Trent, I know I’m not there. I know that. And god, I miss you more than anything—”
“Then come.”
“Jesus Christ, Trent, I can’t!”
You shook your head and sat up on your bed once more. You could only be thankful that you lived alone in your off-campus apartment, with all the back and forth you were having. “You can’t come here, and I can’t go there. That was the understanding when we agreed to make things work,” you lectured. “And trust me, it hurts me too. Fuck, it hurts to see people I don’t even know with their boyfriends. So don’t act like you’re the only one who’s hurting from this.”
“If this is making it work, then I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Trent—”
“I’m just,” he shook his head, “god, I’m tired of this.”
Tears pricked at your eyes, the fear of what he’d say next slowly beginning to tear at your heartstrings. Although you hadn’t seen much of each other in recent years, Trent meant the world to you. He’d done just about everything in his power to keep you happy before he moved. And even after, he tried to see you as much as he could; as much as time would allow.
So the thought of what he might’ve been getting at made you sick to your stomach.
“You cannot put this on me,” you told him through the phone, fingers tightly gripped around the metal as if dropping it would make you lose him for good. “You have no. Right,” you swallowed, nostrils flared and teeth gritted. “It’s so fucking unfair.”
“You know what’s unfair?” His question lingered in the air, and you kept your mouth shut. It wasn’t something that you were meant to answer. So you waited.
“Being forgotten.”
And that was your final straw.
“Fuck you,” you sobbed, a tear cascading down your cheek. “If this whole long-distance thing wasn’t enough for you, then you should’ve just broken it off before.”
“I just wanted to see you.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not the one that left you, Trent.”
Your phone was face down on the bed almost instantly after you hung up. Any emotions you were desperately trying to suppress came to the surface, bringing you to tears as you buried your face into your knees. It all finally came to a head, and you couldn’t bear the outcome. Heavy sobs left your lips, pried relentlessly from your throat as guilt ripped through you. Your body refused to let up for even a second; not until every last drop of emotion was ripped from you.
And finally, once it was, you lay restless in your bed until morning, mind unable to escape the intruding idea of never seeing him again.
Hours turned into days, days into weeks of not hearing from him. Since that night, you began to work yourself harder, picking up hours to fill up the time you’d be alone. You couldn’t let yourself think about it, or else you’d break.
It had been almost a month since. You heard a knock on your door as you were headed for the bathroom, about to shower after another long shift. You were prepared for it to be another one of your friends. They’d been showing up at your door for days, trying to break you out of your funk, which only irritated you further. You sighed and tightened your robe, then walked to the door and swiftly opened it.
“For the last time, I’m fine—”
It wasn’t your friends.
Surprise laced your expression. Trent was standing on the other side of the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets. His body was tense as he stood silently.
“Trent,” you finally whispered.
He stepped closer, eyes boring into yours when your head tilted back to look at him. His lips parted to speak, but you gave him no such chance when you threw your arms around him. Any emotions that you’d suppressed immediately surfaced, tears streaming down your cheeks as you buried your face into his chest.
“Shh,” he cooed, hands rubbing gently up and down your back.
His hand came up to your cheek when you pulled back, using his thumb to gently wipe it dry. The warmth of his touch radiated through the skin and you felt a sense of familiarity, of comfort being in his hold again.
“I’m so sorry,” you cried softly, your arms tightening around his midsection.
“God, no, don’t,” he hesitated, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “please, don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.”
He frowned, “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have acted like such a baby.”
“But I just got angry. I didn’t even consider how you’d—”
“Hey,” he sternly interrupted, pulling your body into his. “This was on me. I knew how busy you’d be when we decided to stay together. I was upset that I couldn’t see you and I blamed you for that,” he breathed. “You didn’t deserve that. Not after everything you’ve done to make this work. I didn’t do my part.”
Another tear fell from your eye, burning the skin in its path. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel like this wasn’t real anymore,” you frowned.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…dumb.”
“And I blamed you for leaving when you had no choice.”
He sighed deeply, urging your head to his chest. “It’s only a month left until you’re out, right?” he asked and you nodded, confirming his inquiry. “Okay. So we only have to tough out one more month of this…And then it’s over.”
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
“It’s okay,” you finally spoke, leaning into him. “I am, too.”
You finally leaned up to kiss him and he quickly reciprocated, pulling your chest flush against his. His head craned to the side, deepening the kiss and turning it into something more than just making up lost time. You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. He hummed against your lips, fingers gripping the underside of your thighs to support your weight.
“I was about to,” you muttered between kisses, “shower.”
“Explains the robe.”
He began walking forward, carrying you down the hallway as you remained perched on his waist. The soft material of the robe slid off of your thighs, exposing them to the cool air and allowing you to feel his bare palms around them. The ring that sat on his right index finger dug into the soft skin as he reached the door to your bathroom.
“Got room for one more?” he teased as he lowered you to your feet.
“Maybe,” you giggled in response, hands resting atop his shoulders. “Who’s asking?”
His fingers toyed with the belt on your robe, slowly beginning to loosen it around your waist. He lowered his head, forehead nearly touching yours, and softened his voice, “Someone who hasn’t been alone with his girlfriend in a long time.”
“Hm,” you considered, fingers dancing along the back of his neck, “I think something can be arranged, then.”
The robe’s soft fabric fell open as he let go and brought his hands to his shirt, removing it in one go. With that, you slipped the rest off and stepped into the shower, then quickly turned on the water as he rid himself of the rest of his clothing. As you waited, you shampooed your hair, thoroughly rinsing it out and basking in the warmth of the water over you.
It wasn’t long before the curtain opened and in stepped Trent, who had discarded all but his silver chain, including the ring he wore just moments before.
“God, have you gotten bigger?” you asked, hands traveling up his arms. “Or has it been that long?”
“Maybe you’ve just gotten smaller.”
You rolled your eyes promptly, chuckling softly before leaning up to kiss him again, allowing the hot water to cascade slowly down your back. You flipped your bodies around and his hair grew darker as it slowly dampened, curls dissipating as they flattened atop his head. You were quick to run your hands along his upper body, palms grazing the skin of his chest down to his stomach. Your touch earned a groan of approval from his lips as you and your body swiftly moved down.
Down to your knees, even, right in front of him.
A few soft, teasing kisses were pressed to his tip before you drew his cock into your warm mouth. A large hand snaked into your hair, roughly gripping the wet strands as he turned just slightly, back now facing the wall. The hot water coated his body, allowing your lips to glide smoothly along his length, teeth lightly grazing the skin.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he drawled, hand setting your pace as the steam from the water rose up around you.
Slowly, he began to pump his hips, tip hitting the back of your throat with each gentle thrust. His head drew back, pressing against the cool, wet tile as he sucked air through his teeth. Your nose nearly came into contact with his pubic bone as you took as much of him as your mouth would allow. But as much as he would’ve wanted to, he refrained from forcing you down.
Instead, he relished in the feeling of your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock again for the first time in months.
Deep breaths left his mouth in the form of groans, his lips parted and face contorting with pleasure. Soon his head was off the wall again as he looked down, driven wild by the sight before him—his girlfriend on her knees in front of him, looking back up at him through tattered lashes, sporting stains of mascara that ran down her cheeks.
It was nearly enough to send him over, and you felt him growing more tense. The grip on your hair tightened as he sped up your pace just slightly, a choked moan escaping your lips and humming against his skin. His free hand darted out and pressed firmly against the fogged glass door, aiding him in maintaining any sort of composure he could conjure up.
Just as he was about to warn you of how close he was, you slid him out of your mouth. When your eyes flitted up, they were met with his disapproving glance, chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply.
“Why did you stop?”
“To irritate you,” you scrunched your nose. “But mostly to tease you.”
Light kisses were intricately pressed to his tip, the action just perfectly denying him enough sensation to fulfill his needs. But enough to make him ache with want, with need; the need of release. Of breaking the taut line holding him together. He was on the brink, and you knew it, but you were denying him.
How cruel.
Maybe it was a form of payback for the argument he started a few weeks before. For making you think you were broken up for all that time. Something like that, he convinced himself. All he knew was that you had every intention of making him wait, and he had no choice but to accept it.
“Mm,” you hummed, the fingers of one hand curling around his length and the others around his thigh as your lips trailed the same torturous kisses down to the base and back up. His hand brushed through the dripping wet strands of dark ginger hair atop his head, feet planted deeply into the floor below him.
Unfortunately for you, he wasn’t the only one who craved his release. And fortunately for him, you were finally willing to give him the satisfaction.
So you drew just the head back into your warm mouth, tongue swirling around the swollen area tactfully. Soft lips glided along his skin as you slid them further down on him, and the line finally snapped like a twig. The aftermath flooded your senses, his taste gathering on your tongue as the sound of his groans filled your ears.
And his traces went smoothly down your throat with a prompt swallow.
“Fuck,” he finally managed, eyes following you as you rose to your feet.
“That,” you started, licking the remainder from the corner of your mouth, “was for that phone call.”
“Yeah?” he asked, a smirk settling in on his face.
“Mhm,” was your sharp-tongued response, bringing a grin to his lips. You reached for the conditioner, “And you deserved it.”
He nodded as you squeezed a bit into your hand, afterward lathering it in your hair. He brought his hands up to your head and tilted it back, using his fingers to rinse out the cream gently.
“Maybe I did,” Trent hoisted you up, an involuntary gasp falling from your lips.
“—But now it’s my turn.”
Your back pressed against the cool tile as he turned your bodies to the side, water now hitting him at an angle as he pinned you up. You breathed out sharply from the force at which you hit the wall, lips parting as your gaze fell on his grin-inhabited face.
The heat formed beads of sweat on both you and Trent’s foreheads, mixing with the hot water as it continued to fall behind his body. He leaned up and connected his lips with yours, a hand running through your equally wet strands before sliding down your tense figure. The other locked fingers with your own and roughly pressed the back of your hand against the tile above your head, drawing a needy moan from your throat.
Your free hand slid up his front and came into contact with the cold, wet metal of his chain. God, you loved it. And he knew it, which was why he never took it off at moments like this; whether it was the tag tapping against your cheek as he thrust into you or it pressing into your skin as your back arched against him, or even just the sight of it poking out from under his shirts, it set you ablaze, similar to many other things about him. Like his hair. Or his hands.
Or the head of his cock as it dragged along your soaked folds, teasing you until you begged for more.
Which, oddly enough, was exactly what was happening to you then.
“Trent—fuck,” the words weakly fell, “please.”
His lips were at your neck, working the soft, damp skin just as you did to his body just minutes before, only now the added pressure of him at your entrance came into play.
“What is it, hm?” he mumbled, trailing down to your collarbones and back up.
“Need to feel you,” you breathed heavily, “now.”
Lips stretched into a grin against your skin just before he pushed himself into you, allowing you to sink down onto him properly. Your hands quickly lifted and tenaciously gripped his shoulders for stability. His head lifted from your neck and fell back, mouth open as he exhaled deeply from the pressure of you enveloping him. He was hardening at an unfaltering rate from the sensation, and his mind was running a mile a minute.
Because no effort he made to relieve himself when he was alone could ever replace the feeling of your inner walls constricting around him.
And fuck, did he miss that feeling.
Finally, your boyfriend was buried inside you again. Finally, he was stretching you out again, occupying every last inch of space that your body would allow. The feeling was all too familiar, but that was what you loved most; how perfectly he fit you, and how it was still able to make you see stars, regardless of how many times you’d felt it before.
His hips instantly moved in a controlled rhythm, leaving no time to exchange pleasantries. Hard thrusts drove your vulnerable body up the wall, large hands now having moved to your hips, fingers pressing firmly into the wet skin.
He wasn’t going to waste any time taking things slower, softer as he normally would. Oh, no—there was no time for that. He needed you oh, so desperately at that moment—to take you. Hard. Fast. That’s what months of deprivation did to a guy like him; a guy who hadn’t felt the touch of his girlfriend in so long that it hurt.
Luckily for him, he wasn’t the only one starving with want.
So the payoff was all the sweeter for the both of you as each torturous thrust forced the tip of his strained, desperate cock to brush just against the right spot within you. Various expletives filled the fogged air of the bathroom, sounding in the form of your weakened voice. Nail-shaped craters formed on the skin of his back while he roughly pistoned his hips forward and back, relentlessly pushing your back against the slick wall behind you.
“So glad you live alone and not on that fucking school ground,” he mumbled, pressing kisses to your exposed shoulder.
Usually, he was more gentle with you, and you’d grown accustomed to that. You liked it that way. But you couldn’t deny how much you loved, in contradiction, the times he decided that gentle wasn’t enough. That it simply wouldn’t do. When all he could think of was the burning desire to pin you to the wall and fuck you dumb with pleasure because he was so damn starved from not seeing you as often as he should. Because he knew better than anyone else that you could take it.
You’d no doubt have prints on your back from the incessant pressure of him pressing you against the tile behind you, and you briefly considered the thought. It left your mind quicker than it came, however, because it wouldn’t be the only thing left behind on your body from the exchange that night.
They’d pair nicely with the marks that extended from your neck to your collarbones.
“Close, Trent,” you muttered, head falling forward and resting atop his shoulder. “I’m…fuck, I’m close.”
A phrase that had become so familiar to him, so routine, as if it were some sort of perverted Bible verse you’d been trained to memorize. One that he’d never get sick of hearing because he knew that every time he was the reason for it.
Of course, you didn’t have to say it, because he already knew you were there. And if you weren’t, someone ought to have explained to him why you felt so tight, all of a sudden.
“Come on, baby,” the words rolled off his tongue languidly, “let go.”
So you did, clenching around him and crying out with a weakness that laced your voice. White hot pleasure surged through your body as he fucked you through it, his thick cock continuing to provide you more pleasure with each calculated thrust than any store-bought substitute could manage. Calloused fingers grasped urgently at the swell of your hips, the hold on you firm enough to keep you stable as you shattered around him for what felt like the first time in years.
Not a moment was wasted before ropes of hot liquid emptied into your stomach, thoroughly coating your waiting, sensitive inner walls. A satisfied groan exited his lips, the sound low in your ear, and you were sure it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard. A hand traveled up to his wet locks, pushing his head forward and allowing your mouth to envelope his in a deep kiss as his hips slowly, carefully came to a stop.
His tongue explored your mouth as if it had never been in its vicinity before, head tilting to give himself easier access. Meanwhile, he pulled out and began to lower you down, the muscles in his arms straining as they held you up for support. Your feet were once again planted on the wet, slippery floor of the shower as your spent body remained still between his large frame and the tiled wall behind you.
He pulled away and stepped back, sliding his hands off you as he turned the knob behind him to increase the water’s temperature. Then, he moved in the stream’s direction, arms reaching outward and pulling you toward him. Your back quickly came into contact with his firm chest, metal pressing against the now patterned skin as his hands placed themselves atop your slick skin.
A pair of soft lips peppered gentle kisses from your neck down to your shoulder, fingers rising to brush your hair away. The scalding hot water hit his back and extended to your exposed shoulder blades, effectively relaxing the tense muscles of your worked bodies. After all, it had been quite the bit of time since either of you had been in such a position.
“I love you,” he murmured, lips brushing against the skin of your ear as his hands ran down along your arms beside you.
Your head fell back against his chest, “I love you, too.”
He leaned down to press another kiss to your lips, arms wrapping around your waist and his hands finding purchase on your stomach, allowing him to inch your body closer to his. Both his and your eyes then fell shut as you settled into him.
It was all so…intimate; intimate in large contrast to the last time you spoke to him before he showed up at your door looking for forgiveness. And of course, he received it, because the whole disagreement was fueled by the sole fact that he simply missed the woman he loved.
The same woman who stood in his embrace as they fell into a comfortable silence, minds focused only on the sound of the water and the steam slowly rising around them.
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