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ellethespaceunicorn · 3 days

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Don't Kill My Vibe

Title: Don’t Kill My Vibe

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Clark Kent x BestFriend!Black!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7K

Summary: You help Clark ease the pain of his broken heart.

Warnings: mention of a breakup, recreational drug use (marijuana), friends-to-lovers trope, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mention of bodily fluids

A/N: This is an AU where Clark Kent is not superpowered and Superman does not exist. Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

It wasn’t the first time Clark asked to try some bud, but it was the most pathetic. His gorgeous blue eyes were puffy from crying over that woman. As much as you wanted to say, “I told you so," you didn’t want him to feel any worse about the failed relationship with his reporter beau, Lois Lane.

And yet again, you think to yourself, ‘Fuck Lois Lane’.

When he showed up at your place an hour ago in sweatpants, sneakers, and a button-up pullover, you were surprised to see he opted for something other than his normal flannel and jeans. His hair was mussed, and he avoided eye contact with you. Something was wrong.

You dragged him into your apartment, turning down your Spotify playlist on the Bluetooth speakers so you could talk over the mellow tunes. While you flopped down on your couch, Clark sat down slowly and sighed.

You were already elevated, having taken a couple of puffs from your blue and red glass bowl earlier, so you were struggling to pay attention to everything he was saying. You tried to put on your “I’m not high” face and nod enough, saying “Oh wow” occasionally. But, in actuality, your eyes were as red as the Devil’s dick, and Clark wasn’t stupid.

His eyes looked from yours to the tray on the coffee table that held your various assortments of smoking apparatus, grinder, lighter, and stash box. Leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees, he motioned his chin toward everything and said, “I know you’ve said no a million times, but I could use an escape. And before you say no again, know I’ve tried all the tricks in the book to get over somebody, and nothing is working.”

“I have a feeling there’s another thing you haven’t tried either, but whatever,” you rattled on, waving off his confused expression. “Fine. It should be illegal for you to use those puppy eyes when asking me for something, by the way.”

So here you are, preparing a strawberry cone for you and Clark to share. You were always weird about people using your favorite bowl. You also figure that for a first-timer, it would be the easiest for him to start with. Twisting the end after filling the cone, you reach for the lighter and ashtray.

“First things first,” you purr, using your phone to turn the music up. “Now, watch what I do. I’m going to draw the smoke into my mouth and then hold it for a few seconds, or as long as I can, before blowing it back out. Ready?”

Clark nods as he turns toward you, tucking one leg under the other. Now that you have his full attention, you suddenly feel flustered. Casting your eyes downward, you take the cone into your mouth and light the end. You inhale deeply and take it out of your mouth. Savoring the citrus flavor of the strain, your tongue licks your lips, and you exhale.

You close your eyes and take a few breaths. After a moment, you hear Clark’s voice breaking through your haze: “Everything good?”

Your eyes pop open, and just like nothing happened, you perk up. Handing him the cone, you blink as he holds it like someone who has never smoked. You’ve known Clark long enough that you have a suspicion that is probably true for him.

He’s polite, almost to a fault. He screams Boy Scout, altar boy, and ‘promise ring’ all at the same time. What can you say? Clark was a good boy. And you were getting him high. You little devil!

Clark takes a short pull from the pink-colored joint and manages to hold it for about two seconds, then attempts to exhale. A small plume escapes his mouth, he inhales sharply and has a coughing fit. You take the joint back before he drops it and sit it in the ashtray.

Rubbing his back, you try to talk him through catching his breath. You grab your water bottle and hold the straw to his mouth when he nods his thanks. He sips the water, then clears his throat loudly, burping up a bit of smoke. He laughs quickly as he sees it exit his mouth, reminding you of a little surprised dragon.

“That was fun,” he sputters, his voice deeper than usual.

“It gets easier, Clark. Trust me, coughing is normal. And most of the time, coughing gets you higher,” you laugh, picking up the joint to take another hit.

You inhale, exhaling into the air, and hold it out for Clark to take again. He sips from your water bottle and gives it to you in exchange for the joint.

Holding it between two fingers, he brings it to his lips. You watch his mouth curl around the tip, and your brain conjures up the vision of what else that boy’s mouth can do. He takes the joint out of his mouth, holding his breath for a few seconds, then blows it out slowly. He gives it back to you and leans back against the couch.

“I don’t think I feel any different yet. How long does it take to kick in?” he asks, crossing his arms and pouting.

It being his first time, he is completely unaware that he is already high. His body language is different; Clark Kent doesn’t slouch even a little. He also certainly doesn’t fidget; his hands suddenly become very interested in the material of his pullover.

“You’ll feel it sooner than you think,” you mumble, the joint between your lips as you speak.

Twenty minutes later, Clark tells you exactly what the last straw was that ended his relationship with Lois. He pauses to take a hit, handing it back to you as he exhales. “But it was always whatever she wanted. I treat her like a queen. And she goes and blows Jimmy-fucking-Olsen. Then she lies about it after Jimmy comes clean to me. I…,” he trails off, looking over at you and shaking his head as he laughs.

“What?” you question when you realize he stops talking.

“Nothing. I just… I think I’m high,” he giggles, the corners of his eyes wrinkling when he smiles at you.

“Besides being high, can you describe how you feel?” You press, wanting to know just how high he is.

“I feel lighter. Clear…er? Is it clearer or more clear? Whatever. I think I also just figured out how I want to finish that article on The Wayne Foundation,” he explains, leaning back so he is lying on his back with his head on your lap. “Is this ok? Your lap looked so comfortable,” he wonders aloud, looking up at you.

That’s when you realize three fundamental truths at the same time.

1. Clark is single.

2. Clark is literally in your lap.

3. The crush you have on Clark is swiftly turning into lustful infatuation.

Bringing yourself back to the present, you smile at him and say, “Yeah, of course it’s ok.” You focus on the heat radiating from your best friend as he makes himself comfortable so close to your thirsty pussy.

“You are the best,” he replies, closing his eyes as your hand finds its way into his curls.

“This cool?” you dare, hoping that you can continue to push the boundary between friendship and something more.

As if the groan from the back of his throat wasn’t enough, he voices his satisfaction. “More than cool. I love having my hair played with. Feel free to go to town on me.”

Oh, the importance of phrasing.

This man is not going to make it easy on you.

You’re explaining to Clark about that episode of Bob’s Burgers where Bob and Linda accidentally get high after eating cookies laced with marijuana at their accountant’s office. “So, anyway. Bob, Linda, and the accountant build a pillow fort from the cushions on his couch, and somehow it makes them feel safer which I get because pillow forts were the height of safety when we were kids. And sometimes, people feel safer thinking about the simplicity of their childhood,” you rattle on, leaning forward to grab your water bottle and forgetting about Clark’s head, which is still very much in your lap.

An oomph is spoken into your boobs, and you shoot straight up to a standing position and knock Clark off your lap and onto the floor.

“Shit!” he cries from his spot on the floor.

“Fuck, Clark! I’m so sorry! Are you ok?” You cringe, your hand touching your forehead as you watch him pull himself up.

“Hey, hey. It’s cool, I’m fine,” he reassures, his hand grabbing yours to take it away from your face. With the other hand, he grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger. Tilting your head up, he smiles and counters, “Are you ok?”

Yeah. Fine. My tits were just thrust into your face for a bit there. Oh, and you have no idea that I like you. And that pesky curl is falling into your pretty eyes again. And your handsome face is close enough to-

One second, you’re staring at his smile; the next second, you’re attacking his mouth with yours. His lips are just as pillowy and soft as they look. At first, the kiss is timid. Surprise gives way to need as he deepens the kiss. His tongue seeks solace as it slides against the seam of your lips. Granting him entry, he licks into your mouth like an explorer discovering new lands.

His hands find their way to your hips, bringing you impossibly close. He feasts on every whimper that leaves you, peppering in some moans of his own. This is the kiss of a man waiting for a moment like this. At least, that’s how it feels.

Begrudgingly, you slowly break away from Clark. His kiss-swollen pink lips beg to be reunited with yours, but you must prove this is real. You look up into his dilated eyes, noting how blue is almost completely taken over by black.

You open your mouth to speak, but Clark beats you to it.

“Unless you are about to tell me you don’t want this, please just kiss me again,” he breathes, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t know what’s more intoxicating. This drug or having you so close to me.”

Instead of worrying about what this means, you throw caution to the wind. Tilting your head, you slot your lips with his, devouring the subtle whimper that escapes him. From nervous to commanding, you feel Clark’s demeanor change as his hands wander over your body.

He picks you up by the waist, your legs instinctually wrapping around him. With you in his arms, he walks blindly to your bedroom. Once he lays you down, he covers your body with his. The hard length against your mound gives you pause, but you quickly recover as you angle your hips to meet his.

Clark breaks the kiss to sit up and remove his pullover and shirt. A pink hue dusts his cheeks as he watches you scan his torso while you bite your lip. Leaning down, he tugs at the hem of your shirt, wanting you to get rid of it.

You oblige, now topless in front of your best friend for the first time. You don’t have time to freak out over that information because Clark hooks his fingers in your leggings, his eyes begging for permission. You raise your hips, and he pulls them down your legs along with your underwear.

You sit up as he chucks his sweatpants, his heavy erection now visible. Your first thought is, “Now that is a pretty dick.”

“Thank you,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You wonder aloud, already knowing the answer.

Clark smiles, nodding at you before coaxing you to lay back. He sinks between your legs, holding them open to kiss your thighs. He teases you a bit, licking and nipping at your mound and outer labia until you wiggle your hips and whine.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Patience, please,” he cautions, shaking his head at you. He winks at you, diving fully into your snatch and sucking your clit between his lips.

You throw your head back in ecstasy as his tongue slides over your swollen button. Humming while sucking on your nub is a fucking power move, and your hands tangle in his hair. You dig your heels into his back as he laps up the juices that accumulate at your entrance. Looking down at him as he worships at the altar of your body, you are taken aback as he peeks up at you over your mound.

With your eyes locked on each other, he watches as he tips you right over the edge. He groans into your pussy, his mouth and chin soaked, as your walls contract around nothing. The euphoria of being high mixes with the joy of being with someone new for the first time.

But this isn’t just anybody; this was your best friend. Warmth and comfort exist between you, allowing you to feel safe enough to fall and that Clark will catch you.

You come down as he plants a kiss on your mound, grazing his lips up your tummy. When he is back above your face, he runs the tip of his dick across your wet folds. He maintains eye contact while he slides in for the first time.

Once he is fully seated inside you, he lets you adjust to his size before he withdraws slightly and thrusts forward. The wet squelch of your pussy and the smack of your bodies against one another are music to your ears. Clark’s grunts as he fucks into you only fuel your impending second climax.

“Fuck, you feel so good. Too good. Not going to last long,” he warns, sitting up on his knees as his hands go to your waist. Throwing his head back, he growls and picks up the pace, using your body like his personal fucktoy.

Your back arches as he repeatedly hits that hidden bundle of nerves. A searing fire erupts in your belly as your cunt clamps down on his dick, spasming and coating it with your cream.

“Good girl! That’s it. Fucking come for me, just like that,” he encourages. “Oh, shit. I’m right fucking behind you. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuck.”

You lock your legs around his waist, keeping him right where he is as his dick spasms and fills you to the brim. Your hands smooth down his big chest, feeling the muscles ripple as he comes down from what is probably the most intense orgasm he has ever felt. He stills soon enough, breathing back to normal as his softening length slips from you.

Flopping down next to you, Clark wraps an arm around you. You curl into his side, an arm across his stomach, and a leg thrown over his. Contented silence fills the room as you both take in this unforeseen turn of events.

Clark’s hand makes idle patterns on your back as you lay on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. You close your eyes for only a moment, missing Clark smiling at you. He gives you a quick peck on the top of your head, causing you to tilt your head to meet his eyes.

“You hungry?” you guess, feeling a bit peckish yourself.

“Yes!” he exclaims.

“Good. I know a great place down the street that makes the best samosas. Does Indian food sound good?” you ask, already tasting the rich spices of the food.

“Sounds perfect,” he says, picking up his arm to let you get up from the bed to grab your phone, watching your hips sway as you walk out to the other room.

Once back in bed, you order various dishes for the both of you. While you wait for the food, you pass a joint back and forth and steal a kiss or two. You decide there is plenty of time for you and Clark to talk. There is no use in killing the vibe for heavy stuff.

With the way Clark is looking at you, there’s not much to talk about anyway.

🍃The End🍃

A/N: I would love to know what you think!!! Feedback is appreciated!

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vivitalks · 12 hours

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man. derek is such an interesting character in season 1, especially when you can look at him through the lens of having seen the whole show, because he's like an unreliable narrator for scott, even though he's not a narrator for the show.

the thing is, derek in season 1 is the primary vehicle for werewolf lore. as new viewers, we're reliant on his character to explain to us the rules and conceits of the genre, but once you've seen the whole show, that role is no longer necessary. but for scott, in season 1, derek is the sole source of werewolf intel. derek is werewolf jesus. which means that everything scott initially learns about being a werewolf is filtered through the Derek Hale Trauma Matrix, and neither of them know it.

for example: in 1x05, derek tells scott that pain is what keeps you human (which is a mantra that gets repeated and referenced a ton over the course of the rest of the show). scott has been a werewolf for all of five seconds, and has no choice but to take the word of this obviously much more knowledgeable werewolf. in that way, derek operates as a kind of narrator for scott, giving him information and context he couldn't really get any other way. but it's unreliable info. don't get me wrong - derek isn't trying to be an unreliable narrator; he's not aware of how much his life experience has colored his understanding of his own species. it's just that...well...derek is a twenty-something with the kind of trauma that eats other trauma for breakfast. of course he would say that pain is what keeps you human. at this point in the show, pain is all he has.

this is the same guy who, in the next episode, says this:

DEREK: You getting angry? That's your first lesson. You want to learn how to control this, how to shift-- you do it through anger, by tapping into a primal animal rage, and you can't do that with her around. SCOTT: [defensively] I can get angry. DEREK: Not angry enough. This is the only way that I can teach you.

except we know, and scott quickly learns (in that very same episode, in fact), that this isn't true. anger doesn't work for everyone, and it doesn't work for scott, who's not an angry person. the things that work for derek won't work for all werewolves - but how would derek know that? he's never had to teach someone to be a werewolf before. he's not actually werewolf jesus.

to scott, derek is the only trustworthy source of information on being a werewolf, because he's the only werewolf scott knows. and from derek's perspective, everything he knows about being a werewolf must be true, because it's true for him. derek is the narrator, and it's only as his backstory unfolds that the viewers, and scott, learn just how much his history and trauma have obscured the reality of things, even for derek himself.

pain is not what makes you human. it's what makes derek human. because the moments in derek's life that stand out to him most are all tinged with tragedy. mercy killing his high school girlfriend. losing his entire family in a house fire. the death of his sister. for derek, to be human is to be in pain, and to be angry about that is the only way to be in control. after all, he doesn't have anyone teaching him otherwise.

#stuff #derek hale #teen wolf #scott mccall #teen wolf meta #tw meta #derek hale meta #tw #expanded thoughts from a throwaway message sent in twl #hoo boy this took some brainpower to get into a coherent post with a logical series of sentences #my head hurts #i had a headache before though. i took ibuprofen in the middle of typing this post #so ironically my head actually hurts less now than it did when i started typing this #i literally saw the meta mondays thing on my dash AS i opened up tumblr to type this #and i thought about saving it for the pain day #but that is a whole entire month away and i can't delay gratification like that #anyway unreliable narrator derek i love you and im so sorry they forced you to be the narrator in your own tragedy #'pain is what makes you human' girl. animals feel pain. what do you mean. pain is one of the only things that ISNT only human

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vidavalor · 17 hours

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But what if Azzy and Crowley aren't quite angel and demon any more but something else, and it's revealed when they pop their wings and they turn out to have changed to a sort of greyscale iridescence (light grey for A. and dark grey for C.)?????

Bold of you to assume that it's Az who is the light grey. 😉

Crowley has always been able to do his angel magic since he fell and Aziraphale's always been able to do temptations/possessions. They just didn't know it, it seems, until around 597 AD. I think the point might be more along the lines of all of them-- the angels, the demons, the humans-- are just beings.

We're all people. Call yourself what you like. Identify as you wish. You get to decide who you are and real freedom is getting to a point where you don't let someone else's definitions of who you are impact your own.

There's a moment of God's narration in S1 when Crowley is bringing baby Adam to Tadfield Manor and he is about to cross paths with Arthur Young. Their interaction sets off the series of miscommunications that result in the baby swap that night and sets the events of 11 years later into motion. God explains that (this is a little paraphrased) it helps to understand that, in human affairs, misunderstandings happen as a result not of people being fundamentally bad or fundamentally good but just as a result of people being human. She is narrating Crowley's story at the time and he is among the humans in the sequence whose miscommunications are impacting events. God is referring to Crowley as human in her narration, causing us to then consider what a human is just as much as what an angel or a demon is.

It makes you wonder if God views all of the beings on the show as fundamentally human-- which is quite different from how the angels and demons have been taught to view themselves, no?

Angels, demons, humans-- all just beings. Different from one another but with commonly held wants and needs. All God really wants is for everyone to have fun and take care of each other. Everything else is bullshit beings have made up to make everything more complicated and painful. God's favorites are the ones who question and work towards freedom and peace-- theirs and that of those around them.

'Demon' is a label The Metatron came up with to ostracize angels who rebelled. It's not really a thing. Many of the angels, though, don't live up to the label of 'angel.' It's all shades of moral grey. True evil exists-- Satan-- but that's not most of the demons, who are just actually basically the original anti-fascists. (Witness how much they all hate the Nazis in 1941.) Most of the demons are just the first free-thinkers while most of the angels are just repressed prisoners of the whole toxic system.

They all need some good music and a hot chocolate. I have the feeling that, at the end of the day, Crowley and Aziraphale could make their wings any colors they might like to, so long as they're of mind to do so. They likely can do anything they believe they can do.

#ineffable husbands #good omens #good omens meta #aziracrow #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale

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caufield193 · 3 days

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Just being honest here but I am trying so hard to not hate Judith… not because I hate her but because of all these yt feminist who only started liking her because RJ exist. It’s hilarious how they use her to hide their racism. Idk if it’s just me, but anytime someone says anything untrue but harmful about Rj, no one bats an eyelash… there are literal hashtags of people bullying the real kid but that’s okay. His Instagram is filled with folks calling him the N word.Yet the moment someone says something true about judith, who is FICTIONAL!!! NOT A REAL HUMAN BEING.( her not being ricks, and being the product of Shane ) man they get soooo upset… and we all know why!

Rick wanted RJ… this isn’t the same for Judith, but he learned to love her.

RJ is ricks legacy, and Judith is not. Yt feminist are accustomed to seeing themselves as wanted, as desired, and when a melanated little boy was desired and planned for, and not the child of a love affair between a white Baby mama and her baby daddy… their true colors show.

They use exscuses like, “ he’s not badass he doesn’t do anything like Carl .” But let’s be honest. RJ is 7… we’ve never seen Carl that young.. yet we’ve seen Judith at Carls age, and yet she hasn’t done anything remotely cool like Carl. So if anyone’s got plot armor it’s her… or they’ll say, RJ had awkward lines, when his made the most sense as he always considered his father the brave man. That is the only thing he knew him as.

Listen, I love how Michonne loves Judith because she truly adopted her, not because she had to but because she wanted to…. But I am so happy that Rick, a white man who married a black woman wants his biracial son, cared about his personality, and not just whether he was alive or not, because it really is making these dude bros upset… and yt feminist

It’s the fact that you can make fun of any child on the show, but god forbid you make fun of Judith or say something that’s the true, it’s the end of the world… a hit dog gonna holler

Have you ever noticed.. it’s okay to say RJ doesn’t deserve the hat… despite him being a grimes. It’s okay to say “RJ live execution.” It’s okay to say that RJ is lame and weak, despite him being 7. But if you point out that Rick has a hard time accepting Judith in the beginning, if you point out that he dreams of Carl and Michonne to stay alive at the CRM, but dreaming of Judith never even crossed him mind… if you point out that everytime Rick asked about Judith it was only to ensure that she was alive… which is on brand considering he told Michonne, “ I had to accept that… so I could keep her alive.” Not so he could love her or bond with her… if you point out all these little nuggets that shows that Rick, a fictional man, struggled to accept a fictional child that will forever carry the DNA of Shane and Lori… suddenly every yt feminist within two mile radius becomes triggered.. I’m just sick of it. Truly I hope there is a S2, where RJ is older and more marketed… purely just to piss certain people off.

#richonne #rj grimes #rick and michonne #michonne

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lastdivantruther · 4 months

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don't trust her dazai, she's gonna blackmail you to buy every flavor of ice creams and bully you anytime chuuya is around.

i don't trust my writing to be readable so dialogs under the cut:

Kyouka: Dazai-san, is it true that you're going to die of heartbreak if you have to hide your undying love for big brother any longer?

Dazai, earlier that day: If poor Chuuya hides his undying love for me any longer, I'm afraid he'll die of heartbreak!

Dazai, now: 'Not exactly in those words...'

Kyouka: I don't want you to die. So I decided to help you by acting as your illegitimate child. With this plan big brother will take pity on us and agree to go out with you.

Atsushi, murmuring to himself: Could it work? I mean, I wouldn't fall for it myself ofc, but Chuuya-san seems like a kind person... Would I fall for it?? If Aku had an....

Tsushi and Dazai: 'Isn't that the plot of the TV show from last night?'

Dazai: Kyouka-chan, that's a PERFECT idea!! 🌸

Kunikida, from his desk: No it's fucking not!

#this sounded way funnier in my native language #atsushi and kyouka are those siblings who look very levelheaded from the outside #but the moment they get used to you they show their true colors #which is both share one braincell that never gets used except for creating chaos #add aku to this mix and you're gonna have very serous explanations of very stupid logics #idk i think they would have so much fun together #anyway back to kyouka's plan #chuuya sees through kyouka's fake tears immediately because my guy worked with dazai for three years #but he gets so annoyed at dazai's attempt of caretaking #so he decides he HAS to interfere and help him #not because he wants to okay #at one point they forget about kyouka who disappears with dazai's wallet #bsd #bsd fanart #dazai osamu #atsushi nakajima #kyouka izumi #bsd kyouka #bsd atsushi #soukoku #comics #my art #i probably butchered english a couple of times till this point so thanks for reading so far #i'm alright with getting my language mistakes pointed at me #also this page is super unfinished but i want to move onto the new stuff so #maybe one day i will have time and patience to finish a drawing

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street-smarts00 · 1 month

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Clingy

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (BAU!reader)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

WC: 3.7k

Summary: You tended to be very expressive with your friends when showing your affection. Whether it showed in pet names or physical touch. Only thing is, Spencer thinks he’s falling in love with you, and all of your sweet affectionate actions are starting to take a toll on his unrequited heart. At least, he thinks it’s unrequited.

Tags: there’s a tiny bit of miscommunication but not too much that it will make your head explode like it does mine. Make out but nothing grown/spicy. Friends to lovers. A bit of hurt/comfort

A/N: Not beta read don’t kill me! yoooo spence is so in denial about her feelings in this but lol so real king. This is mostly from his POV but I had to cheat a few times. Hope i can live up to the hype that complimentary colors was. I low key don't like this one as much but had to execute it cause the idea was cute.

You were starting to drive him insane. Criminally insane. You could invade his thoughts at any waking moment of his day and take over his mind. Every affectionate pet name, every soft fleeting touch, hell every time you look at him, he would replay the moment in his mind like a broken record. If he was in a crowded room, his eyes would always fall on you.

After being with the BAU for a while you became good friends with your coworkers. And with that, came your habit of calling your friends sweet nicknames. Anything from sweetie, to honey, to babes, and the one that broke his heart the most, my love.

At first he didn’t understand why you were using terms of endearment that were typically used in a romantic relationship, but in a platonic way. At some point he caught on that you were similar to Garcia when it came to expressing your love for friends. Similar to her and the way she has her own sweet silly way of expressing how she cares.

Nevertheless, some small part of his heart still broke when you called him those names. He adored your sweet caring nature and the fact that you cared enough about him to call him terms of endearment. But every time a nickname fell from your lips, he was reminded you only meant it platonically.

It was his own personal torture to constantly be reminded he would never be your sweetie, your honey … your love. But the nicknames weren’t enough to drive him insane. While it drove him to the brink of insanity, he was able to keep his head somewhat still on his shoulders.

Not long after the heart warming but crushing nicknames, you showed your true love language. Physical touch. It showed in many forms. It could show when poking JJ in the shoulder and giving Emily a high five. Or nudging Morgan in his side with your elbow. You even managed to get a fist pump from Hotch and Rossi. And of course the welcome and goodbye hugs from Penelope.

You were a bit hesitant at first to express this love language of yours with Spencer due to his aversion to touch and germs. However, you observed that he would gratefully receive occasional touches. Whether it be a hug, high-five, or even the rare ruffle of his hair -which of course would be from Morgan. So you approached him and asked if he was comfortable with physical contact.

When it came to you, he was more than comfortable. You could take him in your arms and he would simply melt into a puddle on the floor. Except he didn’t say that and his reply was closer to a mix of stuttering and rambling about how you could never make him uncomfortable and how he just doesn’t like germs.

Now he’s not saying he regrets his choices. He wouldn’t ever take it back. He enjoys every single lingering touch between the two of you. Actually “enjoys” would be a severe understatement. Every single time you ruffle his hair, lean your head on his shoulder, or even just carefully touch his arm, it was as if a thousand volts of electricity were flowing through him. Like he could light up the city even. You were the best part of his days and the reason breath filled his lungs. You brought a light into his life that made him feel safe and warm.

He desperately wanted your affection, your attention, your touch, to mean something more than he knew it to be. But sooner or later, touch after touch, he started to go insane. Somewhere along the way he had daydreamed so deep he had lost his mind.

You had officially driven Spencer Reid insane.

He was promptly whisked away from his thoughts when he felt the tap of a folder on his shoulder and a light thump on his desk.

“Hotch wants to know your thoughts on the consultation from Colorado,” you started.

He blinked back into focus glancing at the papers on his desk.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked with concern. “You look like your head is in the clouds.”

“I’m fine, just lost in thought,” he answered with a small smile reassuring you.

“Don’t get too lost. Can’t have your genius brain short circuiting on us.” You chuckled as you took a small step closer to him and playfully ruffled his hair.

“I’ll try not to,” he grinned and pushed his hair back after you messed with it.

“Well I’ll be back soon, my love. Gotta go bother Penelope,” you joked before making your way out of the bullpen.

His gaze was lingering on you as you left. His thoughts started to drift to you again as his cheeks turned pink.

“I’ll be back soon, my love,” Morgan mimicked in a higher pitched voice with a grin as he approached Spencer's desk. In response Spencer turned his chair away from Morgan to hide his now red face.

“When are you two going to start dating? You guys already act like a couple.”

“We do not act like a couple,” Spencer argued. “She just sometimes calls me pet names, that's normal for her.”

“You don’t see it do you?” Morgan furrowed his eyebrows and was seconds away from chuckling. “She’s been giving you quite a bit of attention lately. Practically clinging onto you.”

“I mean I- I don’t think so. She does that with everyone, it's not just me. She just happens to be very affectionate with friends.” He answers as his voice almost cracked.

Morgan shook his head, “Oh no it’s more than that. Have you ever noticed that she calls you “my love” but she calls us “love”? Or when we’re on a long flight back home and you two are all cuddly on the jet. How she always seeks out your company and finds an excuse to talk to you or about you.”

Spencer couldn’t speak. He had so many words on the tip of his tongue but his voice wouldn’t make a sound. He sat frozen and mouth slightly agape as his brain started to go into overdrive.

Morgan's face softened at Spencer's reaction. “It’s different with you kid. Friends don’t act like that.”

“You and Garcia do.” Spencer countered, this time definitely with a voice crack. Morgan lightly chucked. He was well aware that his and Penelope’s friendship was a bit different than other male/female friendships.

“Okay you got me there, but you and Y/N aren’t me and Garcia. We may flirt with each other a lot but that’s our thing. You two have this care for each other like nothing I've ever seen.”

Spencer was left stunned once again and Morgan could practically see the gears in his head turning.

“You may not notice it now, or hell you may not let yourself notice it now, but it’s true.”

Those words rang in the back of Spencer's mind for days. Of course on a regular basis you would occupy his mind at any given moment. But now it wasn’t just thoughts about you. His mind was over analyzing almost every interaction between you and him, trying to find what Morgan had talked about. Some form of evidence that proved what you felt for him was beyond what he had initially thought.

He was recounting all the recent times you had approached him out of the members of your team. He recalled all the times you were either hanging out or on the jet and you found yourself tracing patterns on his arm. He was rethinking when you started to use nicknames around him and how it could be different with him than with others. It turned out Morgan might be right, as Spencer realized the numerous times you referred to Garcia or Emily as “love”, but in the rare instance you said “my love” it was only ever directed to him.

The idea of you liking him back had become an all consuming thought, but he was too terrified to ask you. What if Morgan was wrong? Profilers have been wrong before. He became petrified by the idea of asking you about it and possibly finding out his feelings were unrequited. But most of all, he was scared of losing you. Scared that if he brought it up he would make things awkward and ruin your friendship. He couldn’t lose you, not over something as trivial as his feelings.

Unfortunately the mental toll this was taking on his mind started to show. Not so obvious that the everyday person would notice, but you weren’t an everyday person. You grew to know him like the back of your hand. So of course you started to notice the little changes in his behavior. His ever so slight flinch when you would initially touch him. His eyes which used to linger on you and catch your eyes from across the room, now focused almost anywhere you weren’t. The way his body froze when you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his eyes partially widened when you called him anything other than his name.

He tried to hide his worries from you, but you could tell something was bothering him.

Something about you.

His overall behavior didn’t reflect that he was avoiding you or distancing himself from you. He still talked to you and acted around you like normal. Instead it felt like he was holding himself back from receiving or truly appreciating your affection the way he used to.

Days had passed and the team was sent on a case. While this case was an emotional rollercoaster for everyone, it had affected you the most. The victims had reminded you of yourself and the unsub and all of his delusional reasoning for his actions had hit very close to home.

The team caught the unsub and closed the case quite late in the evening. Everyone was exhausted after the grueling past few days and decided to spend the night at the hotel to rest and leave in the morning. You however, still felt an ache in your stomach from all the anxiety felt throughout the day. You couldn’t seem to relax and let that weight off your shoulders. So you went to the one person who could help.

Spencer was getting ready to go to sleep, peacefully reading a book in bed when he got a knock on his door. He placed his book down and when he opened the door he was greeted by you in pajama pants and a zip up hoodie, clearly also winding down for the night.

“Hey,” you greeted.

“Hi, what’s up? Is everything okay?” he asked, a bit concerned as to why you showed up at his hotel so late at night. He opened the door wider signaling you were welcome inside. You entered the room and stuffed your hands in your pockets as he closed the door.

“I’m okay I just …” you cleared your throat. “I know this case has been a tough one but today’s been really hard for me. I’m still wired and awake, I can’t seem to relax enough to go to sleep,” You abruptly stopped your rambling to catch your breath.

“This might sound dumb but, I’m in desperate need of a hug right now,” you finally admitted quietly.

He hated seeing you so timid and closed off. How you made yourself smaller than you were, all because you were asking for your basic needs to be met.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to explain why you need a hug. You can just ask,” he said reassuringly.

“Oh.”

“Physical contact has been shown to increase levels of dopamine, serotonin, and even oxytocin; therefore, decreasing levels of stress and anxiety. Some people might even argue that physical touch is a fundamental element of being human and experiencing life.” His other way of trying to validate your feelings was of course rambling a string of facts and information from his fingertips.

You couldn’t help but smile. God he loved it when you smiled.

“So is that a yes?” you asked since you never exactly got an answer from your question in the first place. Even though you knew what his answer was.

The corners of his lips turned into a grin. “Come here,” he says with outstretched arms.

You practically ran into him at his offer. He wrapped his arms around you as you placed yours around his neck. He wished this moment could last forever. All while at the same time Morgan's previous statements were circling around in his head.

He tried his best to push them away. He tried to tell himself this was not you acting on any potential feelings for him. This was simply you reaching out to a friend in need.

He took note of the way you held onto him so tightly, almost as if he could leave at any second. It made his heart ache.

“You feel tired,” he almost whispered.

“I am,” you mumbled back, face buried in his neck.

“Do you wanna lie down?”

You lightly patted him on the back, “Don’t worry I’ll leave you be and go to sleep soon. I just need a minute

“I meant … I meant do you want to lie down here?” He stammered. “So you’re not alone. You seem like you need a friend right now.”

His own heart almost cracks when he says friend. But that’s what you need right now, a friend.

“I’d like that,” you said with a small smile.

You separate from him and he leads you to the bed holding your hand. He sits down against the headboard and waits for you to join him.

You awkwardly sit down on the bed, eyes darting in all directions of where he’s sitting. “I- what should I …”

“You could sit down the way you do on the jet,” he kindly offers.

You relax at his words and move to sit at his side. He wraps his arm around you as you rest your head against his shoulder. You both sat there in a moment of silence, enjoying eachothers company. He was getting lost in the sweet smell of your perfume; the small bit of it that still lingers from the long day you’ve had.

He started to recall all the times you two would be close like this. It didn’t happen very often. Sometimes on a long jet ride home from a long or stressful case. Or sometimes when the team went out for drinks and you would be tired from dancing. In the rare occasions you two were like this, you would tend to draw patterns on his arm or leg.

So he decided to finally return the favor. With the arm he had wrapped around you, he started to dance his fingertips over your upper arm.

He felt you practically melt into him at the action. If you could get any closer to him, you did.

He continued tracing your arm with an overwhelming amount of care. It made you consider his previous actions compared to how welcome you were now in his arms.

“Spencer, I’m gonna ask you something, and I need you to be completely honest with me,” you spoke with a hidden hesitation in your voice.

“Of course I’ll be honest to you. I always will be,” he furrowed his brows at the thought of you being scared of him lying to you.

You let out a small, almost shaky breath. “Am I clingy?” you murmured.

This made his hand on your arm stop. He shifted his sitting position so he could face you better but also didn’t want to let you out of his hold.

“No, never,” he told you with assurance. “Why would you think you’re clingy?”

He saw you hesitate once more before you gave him your reply. “I was just overthinking things. Worried I was taking the physical contact thing too far or that I’m a bit too affectionate at times.“

“Why would you be worried? You’d never take things too far. You’ve always been respectful of other people’s boundaries.”

You sighed with a shaky breath. He could practically see through you and see you considering your response.

“Because I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” you looked down to avoid his gaze.

He was quiet for a second, absolutely baffled as to how you would think you could ever make him uncomfortable. “Why?” His question was a barely audible whisper.

“You seemed different. All of a sudden you would freeze when I touched you. You became jumpy and skittish when I talked to you. I thought I was too much for you but you didn’t want to tell me about it.”

You shifted away to face him and his hand fell from your arm. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your hoodie as your face went blank.

“You could never be too much for me,” he spoke with a soft voice. He tried to reach his hand out to hold yours but your hand disappeared in your sleeve at his touch.

“Then why were you different all of a sudden?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

His cheeks started to turn pink, “I- I wasn’t.”

“Yes you were.”

“Y/N please,” he begged.

“Spencer,” you whispered as your eyes bore into his. “You said you’d be honest with me.”

He licked his lips and his face turned red. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He couldn’t find an escape route. He had no choice but to tell you. And once the flood gate opened, he would never be able to close it.

“I was freaking out,” he blurted.

“I was freaking out because Morgan implanted this idea in my head that you might possibly have feelings for me based on the way you act around me. I’ve been obsessed with that thought since he mentioned it. So I freaked out almost every time you touched me, talked to me, even looked at me,” he rambled on anxiously as he tried to explain himself. No holding back now.

“I tried not to let it change my behavior but I guess it did and I am so sorry for that. I never wanted to give you the impression that I was uncomfortable. To be honest I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable”

You were silent for a moment. He couldn’t read your reaction. Your eyebrows slightly raised with your lips parted. He could only see surprise, which was typical, he just didn’t know if this kind of surprise was good.

“Why were you so obsessed with the idea of me having feelings for you?”

He could’ve sworn his heart was going to beat out of his chest at any moment.

“Because I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Here we go. Flood gates.

“The idea you might like me back became an all consuming thought because I never before thought it was possible and I never wanted to get my hopes up. Actually, I pretty much think about you all the time so it wasn’t that far from normal. ”

“You’re falling in love with me?” you asked barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” he spoke softly with full confidence.

The only change to your appearance was your eyes widened a bit more. It made Spencer's heart sink to his stomach.

“Listen, I understand if this makes things weird between us and I am so sorry. I just couldn’t ..”

He couldn't finish his thought, you were too busy locking your lips with his. It was a sweet but cautious kiss, almost as if you were testing the waters in uncharted territory. You felt him freeze against you so you leaned away, breaking from the kiss.

Not even seconds later Spencer placed a hand on your face and was diving back into the kiss with fervor. You instantly reacted as your arms found their way around his neck and your hand was digging in his hair. The kiss was intoxicating. Both of you trying to get a taste of the other after what felt like eons of pinning.

He wrapped his arms around your waist while his one hand snuck up to the small of your back where your hoodie had exposed your skin. It sent a shiver up your spine while you let out a shaky breath against his lips. You tried shifting in your seat to somehow get closer to him. With his hands against your waist he helped guide you to sit in his lap straddling him.

When you finally break from the kiss your faces are red and Spencer rests his forehead against yours. You focus on the sound of his breath and the feeling of your heart practically beating in your ears.

Your hand moves to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “I guess I didn’t do a very good job at showing I had feelings for you.”

The corners of his mouth lift up into a giddy smile. “No, you did. I’m just oblivious.”

“Sounded like you were in denial,” you lightly teased.

“That too,” he chuckles.

After a moment of enjoying each other's presence, you pull away from him just far enough to look him in the eyes.

“I know I call everyone pet names, but every time I used them with you, I wanted it to mean something more. Part of me would always hope you would one day call me those names back,”

Spencer swore his heart could give out at any second. He never expected to hear this from you and it made him lightheaded.

“This may sound childish but.. I never craved attention so badly, until you gave me yours,” you added.

He licked his lips and smiled. With his hands still on your waist he traced mindless patterns at your sides. “You have my complete and undivided attention, my love.”

His words made you giddy. You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling. Although, he would never be opposed to hearing your beautiful laugh.

There were no words to describe the way that you felt. So without thinking, you leaned forward once more to capture his lips with yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag Requests: @nomajdetective

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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inkskinned · 1 year

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"the curtains weren't blue on purpose. why should we care?"

my love! let me ask you this - did you eat breakfast today? this tiny moment in your life. just think about it. did you?

for some of you, the answer is yes and for some of you it is technically and for some of you it is does coffee count. some of you reached for cereal or gmo-free overnight oats or frozen waffles or 3-day-old pizza. sometimes we eat the same thing, every day, for weeks. i get tired of eggs randomly, only to go back to craving them desperately. i'm cuban; i take my coffee like my father showed me, very milky and sweet.

some of us ate in a hurry. some of us hate eating breakfast but if we don't we will get nauseous later. some of us took our meds first or took our meds after. some of us have a kitchen 5 feet wide and sometimes it's the biggest room in the house. some of us are confident there will be food in the pantry and some of us flinch and say well, the paycheck is coming. some of us turn on a podcast while we eat or we scroll our phones or write in our diaries.

some of us are choosing, specifically, not to eat breakfast. some of us are too busy. some of us are pretending we "just forgot," but we are ignoring the warning signs that everything feels too-heavy. some of us are so consumed with anxiety or grief that we can't eat. some of us can't stand up long enough to make our coffee. some of us have no table to sit down and eat.

i cannot tell you what an artist "meant" by their choices. but they did have to make a choice, conscious or otherwise, to give you information. to give you a little bit more light. each of these choices are little stars of data; connecting speckles for you to weave through, drawing a line.

you cannot use a mirror in a dark room. for some of us; we will not care that the curtains are blue, because that will just be a data point and not enough light to see by. for some of us, the blue curtains will be the same as our childhood bedroom. it will make us seasick. for some of us, blue will be the color of frostbite. it might look like a pixel up close; but from a distance, oh! the picture blooms.

i cannot tell you what will stick out for you. what will carry meaning. some of you will read the sentence "i didn't have breakfast today" and say "this means nothing." some of you will read that and say "oh, me neither." some of you will say "this means the character is probably a little grouchy." some of you will say "oh, i wonder if they're okay. why didn't they eat anything?" ... art is a mirror. i am holding hands with you, over space and time, and asking you to feel something with me.

i want you to read my work and find a blue pair of curtains. i want you to read my work and find things in it that i never imagined placing. i have no way of knowing what will resonate with you, that's true. and maybe i just was hungry while i wrote this, and thinking about the eggs in my fridge. but if you found meaning, that meaning is yours. it cannot be erased just because i didn't "intend" it. you created a different world by interpreting my work. it's collaborative! that's beautiful! that's stunning!

just! imagine looking at the night sky and saying - it's stupid to have a favorite constellation or a favorite star. they're just there.

because here's the thing - across centuries and cultures, we look up. we still find meaning in the stars. these beautiful, lovely scattered accidents. are you looking? they call. and we look back and say oh! of course we are!

#this got away from me #but like #u know #reading is a form of creation #and sometimes the choice that the author makes might SEEM random #but it's like. bro that's telling u something.#also hate the vibe where authors/artists mock their audience for finding meaning in something #nahhhh #if u make art u need to be okay with people finding their own reflection in it

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seraphdreams · 4 months

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"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MEGUMI!" | MEGUMI FUSHIGURO.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— synopsis. it would be so very cruel of you to not show your appreciation for your best friend, especially on his birthday.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— cw. smut, college au, reader calls him “megs”, mention of “angelcunt”, unprotected love-making, bimbo!reader / best friend!megumi, a bit of asphyxiation, megumi with a crush! fingering, and praise. mdni <3

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃— word count. 1.7k, a quick read !!

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 — dolled up! hellooo !! it’s a real one’s birthday, this is the least i could do to celebrate. i’m trying to get back into the groove of writing again so stay tuned n ready 4 fics in the future !! sweet college au best friend megumi is always on my mind, something about a stoic but secretly in love trope .. (he’s no better than his father, sigh) .. as always, if you enjoyed this, please reblog / comment. i’ll bake u you’re favorite sweets if u do !! thank u ♡

megumi has always been there for you. through ups and downs, taxing breakups, even the times you’d get exceedingly inebriated and ramble endlessly about your ever-growing appreciation for him — there was no denying the cordiality he’d shown throughout the many years of your friendship. sure, he could be quite cold, maybe even grumpy; but that was just the joy of megumi fushiguro.

and for that, it’d only be right to repay him.

for all of the times he would show up uninvited to your dorm with the notes of the lecture you’d fortuitously missed, blaming the absence on the absurdly quiet lull of your alarm clock, or when he’d let you have the last bite of his food, because only god knows megumi was never above tolerating you. it’d be the work of a terrible friend to let it all go unnoticed, especially on a special day like today.

“happy birthday, megs!” there you stood,

bubbly and bright as ever, in the doorway of his bedroom, clad in nothing but a tiny pink pajama set with a top reigning transparency, it barely left the skin beneath to the imagination.

he had invited you, along with yuuji and nobara, over to his dorm the previous night to keep him company after class — which led to a kugisaki-induced movie marathon, and eventually phased out into the four of you passed out on the fushiguro’s couch, hues of light omitting from the colorful rays of the forgotten television screen and onto your slumbering faces.

with megumi holding the title of competency within the friend group, it came as no shock when he’d woken up the others to send them on their merry way. all except you, of course. the light throw-over blanket clinging to your body neatly as you slept, soft snores resonating within your being aided in megumi’s decision to give you a few extra minutes to rest.

he could never interfere with your comfort.

after your unanticipated birthday wishes, it took a moment for megumi to come to, blinking away his awareness for your scantily clothed body and opting for a more stoic expression.

“thanks,” he replied, tone low and clouded with an air of vague appreciation.

“wanna know what i got you for your birthday?” your query was that of a sing-song manner as you swayed in place. megumi was used to being around absolute rays of sunshine, but you? you were different. it was as if you were the sun itself; warm and inviting yet shone luminous enough to blind onlookers. you were tooth-rottingly sweet, and as bubbly as you were naive.

matters weren’t made any better forgoing the fact that megumi had true feelings for you. it was a running gag within your friend group, jokes that itadori and nobara would make concerning the contrast between megumi’s unwelcoming behavior when it came to them, and impassive patience had times fell upon you.

in fact, obliviousness was your specialty in being ignorant to the feelings of the fushiguro. it wasn’t your fault, you truly didn’t know.

megumi responds curtly, although with a hint of sarcasm, “a break?”

you pout as you rest your head against the lacquered doorframe, reigning defeated already despite the conversation barely racking up a minute’s time. “no, silly.” the words come out as a giggle. “i got you me!”

a hint of confusion glosses over his features before it morphs into that of a neutral expression. shirtless from his shower just minutes prior, and puzzled from what your mind had conjured up this time, he questions again. “you? you got me you?”

you shake your head affirmatively as he starts up once more. “and what do i do with you?”

clear as day, your exchange took a rather suggestive turn, one that neither of you were intending. “well, you can do a lot of things with me,” now stepping into the room to close the distance between your bodies, your response is thick with an air of lust that megumi noticed seemed to come naturally for you. his heart picks up in pace from the sight of your pretty face, and even prettier eyes looking vacantly into his, as if you weren’t aware of the trap you set up for yourself.

he brushed off the slight arousal brewing up within him, chose to play it off as mirth like he usually did when it came to you. “i guess so.”

you held onto his arm, a more distinct, yet adorable look of seriousness on your features. truly, you were a little doll. “i’m for real, megs. it’s your birthday, i’ll let you do anything you want.”

yeah. you’re really going to regret this one.

the word “anything” came with free reign. and even though megumi thought of himself as anyone but a pervert, he certainly was bound to start acting like one.

“anything?” his question came out as if he was treading lightly while he moved to dig through his drawer, perhaps looking for a shirt.

you stepped back to allow him the space of rummaging, while nodding your head and confirming his suspicions. “anything.”

“let’s fuck, then.”

his tone was nonchalant, easy on your ears as his speaking voice regularly sounded, and you would have missed his request had he not straightened up to search your countenance for an answer — deadpan, as if he hadn’t said a thing.

in that moment, all of what you hadn’t noticed, no. all of what you chose to deny had finally been put into perspective.

megumi fushiguro was fucking hot.

“i mean, if that’s what you want then i don’t mind.” your response was succinct, gentle on your tongue and provided him the response he’d been aiming for.

this might be his best birthday yet.

he strode closer to you in light steps before his large, glacial hand found its place on your cheek and silken lips met yours, pulling you into a salacious kiss filled with hunger and want. the press of his tongue begging to be allotted within the slot of your lips was accepted with your own muscle dancing against his. it was dizzying, and dissimilar. for all your years of knowing megumi, you would’ve never thought up the occuring situation.

lithe fingers danced up the skin of your thighs where you part them on instinct, allowing his digits to work on their own to slip past the barrier of elastic fabric and into your little lace panties, softly drumming along the puffy nub of your clit.

“megumi,” you rasp against his lips, swirling your hips over his hand to build up the sweet friction surging from your core. the saccharine croon of his name tasted sugary like vanilla rolling off of your tongue and onto his. he was in pure bliss; ready to take everything you gave to him.

his body responded to your need, fingertips at your clit circling tightly, an action that pulled a string of mewls from you before you gasped at the intrusion of his long fingers dipping into your core. they curled upwards against your gummy walls just until they increased in pace while his thumb pivoted at your sensitive nub, and fuck! where’d he learn how to do that?

he pulled away only slightly to read your expression, the tent in his pants growing taller, tip leaking carelessly at the onsight of your face, screwed taut in pleasure — plump, glossy lips that were slick with spit and moans slipping past without prevail.

underneath him, your legs felt feeble, as if they’d fall beneath you from the surgence of pleasure. “m-megumi, wait, ‘m gonna!-“ you held onto his shoulders for leverage, your warnings of orgasm falling on deaf, distracted ears, until finally, you were a gushing mess in his palm, coating his digits in your essence.

“fuck. you’re so pretty when you cum,” in that moment, he gave you no chance to react when he gently positioned you over his dresser, pulling down your little shorts until they pooled around your knees.

“y’made me so hard, y/n. can you feel it?” he grinded himself over the plush of your ass, teasing before pulling his sweats down just enough so that his hard, throbbing and leaking, length could be free. it bobbed ever so under its weight while one hand began to pump from base to shaft to soothe the excruciating ache. once he felt satisfied in his ministrations, he lined his cock along your awaiting slit.

“a condom, megs.” your reminder came in the form of a soft lull. after all, you two were just free-spirited college students, unable to pay the consequences of spontaneous actions. “don’t have any.” with that, he sunk his cock inside to the hilt, a low groan rippling from his throat at just how tight your pussy clamped around him. it felt like fucking heaven. he could die in your cunt and be at peace.

while you adjusted to the stretch, he began to move; slow, deep strokes as if he were savoring this moment forever. who knows when he’ll be able to have the luxury to sink inside your perfect angelcunt again? you bit your lip to stave off impending moans which ultimately failed when his arms snaked around your body — one hand underneath the cloth of your shirt and pinching at your perked nipples while the other finds its place right back at your clit.

“sh-shit!” you cry out, eyes rolling and mind hazy from the pleasure. his rhythm increased gradually until he built up a vigorous pace. “i’ve been needing y-you so bad.” megumi groans along the shell of your ear. how he got so lucky as to have his dream girl engulfed around his cock, he doesn’t know. all he’s aware of was the tightening of his abdomen, signaling his own impending orgasm.

white hot pleasure replace all feeling in your body, counting down its time until the familiar numbness washed over you in euphoria. a pitchy moan sounded from your lips and an even whorish whimper when the warmth from spurts of his cum coated your insides.

after what felt like a minute of the two of you recollecting your breaths, megumi finally pulled out, shuddering at the added stimulation at his oversensitive cock.

he leaned your head back to meet his lust-filled gaze; calmness of his deep navy orbs now deepened with sin. megumi pressed gentle kisses all over your face while his hands took purchase at your now, exposed, neck and squeezed tight enough to keep you lightheaded.

“you’re the best birthday present.”

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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Green Lantern hovered in the doorway of the med bay. He’d been summoned, but he had no idea what for.

“You know, spooky, some of us have lives to get back to. Not everyone can exist off of just work and blood or whatever,” Hal poked fun at Batman, who rubbed at his jaw tiredly. Hal blinked, stamping down the guilt that arose at Batsy’s uncharacteristic show of any emotion other than stone cold rationality or exasperation or anger. At least they’ve moved past grunts. That just lends credence to Hal’s theory of Batman being an immortal, like Vandal Savage. Batman could totally pass for a caveman, he’s got the grunts down, for sure.

“Still not a vampire. We found the Ghost King. The one the GIW was trying to hide in their records.”

“Well, shit.” Hal’s expression flattened, remembering the unsanctioned government branch that violated the Meta Rights act to a degree where even Amanda Waller had washed her hands of them. Bats had found evidence that they were experimenting on a child when a “source” had hacked into the base and begged them to find the child. Phantom, the hacker had claimed, who had managed to destroy the portal to the Infinite Realms

Batman had tried to boot the guy out of the system, until the hacker told them Phantom was the King of the Infinite Realms.

That got Constantine terrified, which urged Batman into a full hunting mode to track down the king. Mostly in part because Constantine said something along the lines of, “If the King dies, the Infinite Realms will wage war and decimate us. And considering they’re the realm of the dead, we’d lose so badly, even the demons won’t help us out for our bloody souls.”

Granted, he didn’t have that terrible British accent Hal attached to his voice every time the Green Lantern thought about the sad trench coat wizard, but the point still stood.

“He’s not fully conscious due to… his injuries, but the moments where he was, he reacted best to the color green.”

Hal did not want to know what kind of creepy stalker things Batman did to get that knowledge.

“Oh, great. You called me because I’m green,” he said to Batman as he floated into the med bay. “I can be green. I’m amazing at being green.”

Even with the sarcastic tone, Hal made sure to up his lantern aura, glowing a bright neon green. It wouldn’t do to help start a war if he wasn’t green enough.

Hal looked at the Ghost King, and yeah, he could see why Bats was so off his stoic face game today. Because the Ghost King looked like a teenager, and Bats is a bleeding heart and everyone knows it.

Hal waved away Batman, “Go back to Gotham and drink your true blood or whatever. You look like you’ve seen the sun too much.”

Translation: go home, you look tired.

Batman nodded, in thanks, and left to sleep (probably. Hal has never caught the man doing something so… plebeian). Hal is left playing babysitter. To an inter dimensional being that could- probably more like “would,” considering the live dissection he went through at the hands of humans- destroy their entire planet and/or universe. Another Tuesday for the Justice League.

#danny phantom #batman #dc x dp #bruce wayne #hal jordan #green lantern #being as neon green as a ghost #justice league #jla #Hal Jordan’s love language is making shitty jokes and childish insults #Danny Phantom is not having a great time #danny fenton #ghost king danny #Batman is a good batdad #Hal Jordan is the funcle #The GIW #tucker foley #who is a bamf hacker #he hacks on a pda do you know how hard that is

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jazjelspen · 3 months

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scarlet and silver lining

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc still trying to get used to writing fics again lol/possible part 1 after the epilogue)

[Prologue]

You never truly got along with your 'father', not even in life until the passing of his mother.. your grandmother.

Technically she wasn't exactly your grandmother, and Alastor wasn't your father.. at least not by blood but by adoption papers. Poor Nana, she just wanted a little grandbaby running around the house before her days started getting counted down.

Alastor knowing that he didn't want to go through the trouble of finding a wife nor did he want to deal with the issues that came with that let alone the process to conceive a kid, with a heart full yet a hesitant hand he then signed your papers.. adopted you for the kind old woman at the age of six.

Orphaned by your parents sudden passing, you never truly found out why or how they died. Only thing you knew was that it was sudden, unprovoked, unasked for. They were healthy yet from what you could hear from the cops that took you from your empty home was that there was blood, lots of it.

With no family to take care of poor little you, you got thrown in an orphanage and stayed there hoping to be rescued and loved someday.

Till one day a man with a large smile and clean-cut clothes walked in with a gentle old lady, both talking to one of the adults in charge of the place. Eventually while touring the building they managed to find you hidden in a corner reading a picture book, reading about a baby deer finding his way in the world without his mother, this intrigued the lady and she started to speak to you.

No matter how much the man tried to get the lady to start moving to look at more options she was so stuck to you, your innocent and your little voice attempting to use big words entranced her poor heart and in that moment she just knew you had to be her granddaughter. After she said the word, the adult responsible led them to talk more and sign papers and the rest is history.

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

That was all you were willing to think far into when it came to your past, not wanting to remember what once was before falling into Hell.

You died around the 1940s, you followed in your fathers footsteps and created your own radio show before you died and being the daughter of Alastor in life had it's perks when he was famous in your home of New Orleans.

Although, you kept your secret deep in the ground when it came to your connection to Alastor. No way in hell would anyone know he was your adoptive father, you knew it'd only make you an even bigger target.

Especially to Vox, your boss and the demon that owned your soul.

Also the man that hated your father with his guts, but of course he didn't need to know any of that.

Your contract with him allowed you to be on his show, have a segment of it, get the royalties from it and be under his protection and his roof, in exchange you do any job he asks you to do no matter how hard or long it gets.

God did you hate transitioning from radio to TV, you were never fond of those color video boxes.. they lacked personality and were shallow in the content they produced. but hey, you needed to survive in hell somehow so why not just throw your soul to this TV guy to stay safe from the exterminations and other ruthless sinners.

You died around the time when the Radio Demon was barley getting the word out and showing his true power, the day you recognized his voice and heard his name blasted everywhere was when you knew he was worser than you thought, you didn't think he was this much of a sadist in life.. he must've hid it incredibly well from you then.

And you hated him for that.

Hated him for killing innocents, his sadistic tendencies, his power, his smile, his singing and his lies. His lies that he was your kind ol' dad that would do nothing wrong.

God.

But here you were now in present time being forced to be at the Hazbin Hotel by Vox.

Your hand currently leaning over to knock on the door ready to knock. You'd be warned that Alastor was here, and were warn to be more careful with your words and actions considering how badly Sir Pencious messed up before. This time bringing no technology with you but your head, memory, and a few things to sleep a few nights at this establishment. You were told that you would get more royalties and more perks like even getting your own show to rule over completely if you succeeded in this mission.. and god did you need your own place and studio so that Valentino didn't bother you any longer.

Your lips parted to let out a shaky sigh, a sweat bead running down your forehead down to the side of your face.

'c'mon ____, keep it together will ya?..' your thoughts scolded at you,

Your free hand wiped it away before finally knocking on the door of the hotel, hands shaky and your practiced smile of years

The door opening and being met with the princess of hell, Charlie Morningstar.

You could've sworn you felt the red eyes of a certain radio demon stare at you full force behind the princess's back.

Charlie gasped, seemingly more than ever excited to see someone new.

Your lips parted and started to move, you thoughts racing as you could feel more people stare from behind the royal.

You knew you'd regret doing this mission, Alastor being involved in it should've kept you away..

but if there was a chance to either get a solution to fully get away from the V's or to benefit from them if you did all this right, then so be it.

"Hello.. you must be Charlie right.. My name is ______ and I heard you are redeeming sinners? Your highness, I believe in your cause.. please help me relieve myself of my sins."

Your hands went from holding your luggage to clasping together with a face full of worry and a need to get better. Even you were unsure if you meant what you said, but you just knew that you knew what you had to do no matter what.. you would benefit from this somehow.

"Please, let me redeem yourself in your Hazbin Hotel, Princess Morningstar."

(hello readers!! thank you so much for taking a look at this epilogue of a possible new pic series! I actually made this fanfic almost three years ago on quotev but I want to bring it to life in a different fashion and new writing, so I hope you can stick around till the end of this series!!)

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sugusatosluut · 4 months

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Look, don’t touch

Choso Kamo x Fem!reader

MDNI✨

Includes: Smut, grumpy choso, rough sex, clingy and jealous choso ;)

Also hi! :) hope everyone is starting the new year off fantastic! I’m here and ready to be mutuals with other creators on here. A comment on who to write about + a prompt would be nice :) my ask is open as well! Much love,

Fran <3

Your time spent being Kenjaku’s favorite pupil was exhausting. You sometimes spent time with the other pawns that Kenjaku lured with the promise of something different that each of them had valued, even yourself. Your favorite though, was Choso Kamo. Even though he was definitely a loner, he would sometimes share things with you, like food or techniques. He’d back you up on missions, volunteer to ‘protect you’ during reconnaissance and both of those ended up with him pushing your face into the sheets of a hotel room that you had frequented when you didn’t feel like traveling back to the hideout. This one mission in particular, Kenjaku opted to tag along as well.

“My sweetest pupil, one of my most prized possessions. You’ve nearly mastered this technique, is this the result of choso helping you during your spare time?” He asked.

“Yes Master Kenjaku.” You bowed your head.

Choso looked over as Kenjaku picked your head up with two fingers and got awfully close to your face. His lips were mere centimeters from your own, and he used the body of Suguru Geto to give you a warm smile. He liked the feeling of Choso’s eyes watching every twinge of movement between you and other individuals, it’s almost like he wanted to see how far he could push choso until he made him snap and show his true colors.. he liked that they were similar, but kenjaku’s fantasy was set aside to tend to his other pupils. Before he removed his fingers from your chin, Kenjaku looked you up and down, before smirking and leaving.

After he left, choso let out a deep sigh he had been holding. God it really got to him that Kenjaku really knew how to get under his skin, he knew somewhat about Choso’s ‘crush’ on you, but not what you two did on or after missions. Choso quietly made his way over to you after Kenjaku left.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you.” He pouted from across the room.

“I can’t help that. I have to please Kenjaku.. but it doesn’t top wanting to please you, choso.” You smirked picking your head up to look at choso, who was clearly hot and bothered by both your words and your interaction with Kenjaku.

He huffed. It was something so simple and he already knew you weren’t into your ‘master’ but he wanted to hear it straight from your mouth.

Choso got up and quit his pouting. His face was serious and his demeanor was filled with tension.

“Get up.”

“Hm? Cho-“

“Get up.”

Choso grabbed your hand and pulled you into kenjaku’s resting place.. or office, whatever he called it, roughly pinning you between him and the door. His breath hot on your neck. All those taunting moments finally got to him, so he was going to take it further. He planted sloppy, wet kisses all over your neck and lips, sucking on your lips and shoving his hands up your top. You had no time to react, pure ecstasy shot through your body. Choso could do whatever he wanted to you and that was just the fact of the matter.

Suddenly he wrapped your hair into a ponytail around his palm, your whole body moving wherever he pulled you to go. He stopped you right in front of Kenjaku’s desk, aggressively pulling your skirt up. He rubbed circles on your puffy clit, his fingers feeling how wet you were just from kissing you.

“Choso-“ you panted.

“No- not until you tell me I’m your only master.” He grunted as he pulled your underwear to the side. He slid his cock up and down your folds, his tip throbbing at just the feeling of making contact with your precious cunt. He was grunting with anticipation, the reality of how rough he was being set in, but he couldn’t stop now. Is this what Kenjaku wanted? No- is this what you wanted? You wanted him to be rough with you and mark his territory, to fuck you in your master’s office, to see how only choso could make you weep, squirt and moan, how he could be the only man to destroy you and please you all at once. He wanted you to know that there was nobody else your cunt would willingly accept in all it’s tightness.

“Please, Cho- put it in, god! I- need you so bad.” You moaned gripping the desk. Choso had your ponytail in one hand and grabbed onto your waist with the other. He placed his body behind yours, embracing you, squeezing your hips and massaging them as he whispered in your ear.

“Tell me who your master is and I might just let you cum, pretty.” Choso’s words made your body shiver. He gave no warning before plunging his cock into your hole.

“G-gah!” You let out.

Choso was relentless. His behavior was far off than what you’ve seen prior to his odd jealousy. Choso never got jealous of anything as far as you knew.. but you were also oblivious of a lot of things. Your moans filled the air as choso waited for you to say what he needed to hear.

“Say it-mmm- say it or you’re not going to cum Princess.” I grunted as lewd sounds filled the air in Kenjaku’s space. You couldn’t take it anymore as your walls clenched around him, your throat letting out groans and moans before being able to speak through choso’s rough thrusts into you from behind.

“Y-you’re my one and only master choso, only you can have me!” You whined as you clenched harder around him. The enthusiasm and build up in your stomach was nearly edging you until choso said it..

“You can cum Princess, I’m right here- god you’re so tight I’m gonna - fuck! tch…” he panted before both of you came simultaneously. Choso kissed a line up your spine and pulled himself out slowly. He watched for a second as your hole dripped the mixture of the two of you out slowly. He turned you back around to himself and caressed your face. He wasn’t ever this affectionate. You figured maybe choso only wanted to hookup, but this only proved to you that Choso Kamo was a jealous man.

“Cho, were you jealous?” You smirked at him.

He sighed.

“A- a little yeah.. I think I would like to take you on a proper date to ask you out. When you have time though. Don’t want to piss off that old bastard.” Choso rolled his eyes.

“I’d love that choso.” You smiled.

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chrollohearttags · 7 months

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kinktober day five

character: multiple (written with some of my fav, big dick slanging demons in mind: tengen, taiju, takita, zoro, draken, gojo, ony, etc.)

kink: size kink

show: multiple (JJK, Demon Slayer, OP, AOT, TR, etc.)

word count: less than 1K idk

content + themes: squirting, heavy drinking, dirty talk, subby reader (described as plus sized), daddy’s used, slaps the reader like once, choking, halloween themed (they’re in costumes), missionary

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ── ･｡ﾟ☆:

“..nngh! Daddy..okayyy, fuck! It hurts..”

“Ah, ah…I don’t wanna here that now. Take it..take this dick like you said you would earlier.”

if there was ever a time in your life that the sentiment of “eating your words” had stood true, then it was this moment right here..somehow, your seemingly normal night of partying and dancing with friends at a fun Halloween party had quickly turned into you being drilled into your plush mattress and your legs pinned back behind your ears! Truthfully, it wasn’t the first time you’d landed yourself in this type of predicament and most certainly wouldn’t be the last but there was a certain intensity about your man that you couldn’t quite pinpoint…perhaps it was your constant misconduct. Being a brat and defying him when he told you you’d had one too many. Insisting you were fine and snatching away. Or maybe even shaking your ass on another man in an attempt to make him jealous. Whatever the root cause, you were certainly regretting your poor decision!

“ ‘S too much…goddamn..so fucking big.”

instead of chopping it up with your girls or taking pictures in those matching Spider-Man and Spider-girl fits, the crotch area had been torn to shreds and his hand was cradling your throat with a vice grip. Your entire lower half was trembling in immense pleasure; sticky from the constant stimulation that tight little pussy being pounded into oblivion. Cream dripping all down the sides of your plush, mocha colored thighs..such a perfect contrast. Clutching your own legs, you’d claw those long acrylics into your skin as those brown eyes rolled to the back of your skull; your body jolted around by those deep, unrelenting strokes. Although you two fucked like animals, it never made it any easier to adjust to how massive he was. Even after trying his damndest to train that body of yours, you could never take him past the halfway point. That thick girth, mushroom tip swollen from the repetitive prodding and those big, round balls smacking against your clit. It felt amazing but it was always a challenge. Releasing a series of whiny and shrill cries, you’d attempt to paw at his shredded six pack but to no avail, you couldn’t keep him out of you. The collision of your flesh filling the room alongside his deep voice, taunting you endlessly..it certainly didn’t help when his larger frame towered over you as well. Regardless of you being a bit bigger than the average woman, he handled you as if you weighed nothing more than that of a feather. Picking you up and thrashing you around at his leisure..it was so hot!

“Talk your shit now, baby. C’mon. Talk that shit with my dick inside of you.”

giving you another reminder not to try him with his thumb circling your clit. His hands soon made place on your pudgy little tummy, which he used to reign you in. His thrusts because faster by the second and you were coming unglued even quicker, quivering and quaking, he’d soon bog all of his weight down on your frame, truly honing in on your sweet spot. He was ensuring you had nowhere to run..it wasn’t long before that tight cunt was squeezing him with all your might and letting those first few inches stretch you open, just enough to get exactly what he wanted. “Come..” his only command and you’d follow shortly thereafter with a giant stream of spraying juices that coated his pecs and abs. A show that didn’t halt for almost an entire minute!…leaving you completely paralyzed with pleasure. Smacking your thigh, your boyfriend cackled in the most maniacal manner as he watched you writhe underneath him. Offering only more snarky remarks rather than solace.

“Next time, don’t get cute and make a scene in front of your little friends..you’re not in charge here, remember that.”

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bwambiee · 7 months

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𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

this lil’ drabble is inspired by the lovely @zeijias ♡ her drabble of isagi being a perv while pretending to be a goody two-shoes just scratched my brain so right i had to add on to the agenda! pls check out her works they’ve got me blushin’ ૮꒰/ฅ//ฅ//꒱ა

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : 𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings ꒱ྀིა smut ⸝ drabble ⸝ fem! reader ⸝ isagi being a perv ⸝ mean isagi agenda ⸝ aged up chara’s (21+) ⸝ dirty talk ⸝ mentions of face-sitting

campus crush yoichi is just the sweetest boy in your psychology class, who you just found out is an exercise science major and he’s got the prettiest sapphire eyes you’ve ever seen. classmates turned best friends came easily to you two even if sometimes you both could see that the line is slightly blurred from how impeccably close you two are. after spending every waking moment together in freshman and sophomore year, it’s like muscle memory for you to run to him at even the smallest ounce of juicy gossip, tugging his sleeve as you look up into his eyes and nuzzle into his arm as you explain the drama of a recent friend, or how you complain over your classes whilst wearing his hoodie. but who could blame you? he was sweet and understanding, and felt like home. but it was clear that you two had something. and the both of you didn’t have the guts to act on it yet.

of course you only see what’s on the outside, goody two-shoes isagi who sometimes walks in late for psych, who always always opens the door for you, who covers your drink at parties when you need to use the bathroom and even bends down so his ear is at level with your face so he can hear you over the booming music, who always buys you your favorite drink or snack before your morning classes start because you stayed up a little later than normal and he knows you haven’t had breakfast yet. he was just so pure and flawless you could never guess that he was secretly eyeing you like the last piece of candy at a sweets shop. especially when you wear that miniskirt that can most definitely show what color panties you're wearing and the curve of your ass if you weren’t careful.

isagi freaking loses it when you stroll up to him all casually, your eyes looking up at him while you bat your eyelashes and flash him that sweet smile, your soft hands tugging on the sleeve of his hoodie as you lead him towards the library so you two can study for an upcoming test. yeah . . . ‘study’. what he’s really studying is how good your legs look when you cross them together, how good they’d look resting over his shoulders when he pounds into your pussy without mercy, growling into your ear about how fucking tight you are, or how good your shoulders and neck would look covered in marks he’d purposely leave on you so that the boy in your statistics class would get a hint that you weren’t meant to be shared with. nothing drives him wild as his thought run amok, dreaming of your plush thighs surrounding his head as he imagines you sitting on his face, pretty pussy dripping honey onto his tongue as you let out soft mewls and whines of his name when he sucks your clit just right, gripping onto your ass cheeks so he can move you back and forth on his tongue as you hold onto his headboard for dear life.

he inwardly groans as he imagines sinking into your pussy, sticking his whole cock into you in one hard thrust as he robs you of every single slither of oxygen when you gasp and do nothing but hold onto him tightly. he’d destroy you, the frustration of playing cat and mouse with you when really he just wants to play house and stop fucking around. the need for his true feelings comes out slightly when he sees you bite the top of your pencil, slightly groaning as you lean in close to him, not-so-subtly showing off how good your tits looked in the top and mention how the barista that had made your latte was cute and he grips his mechanical pencil tightly, digging it into his notebook when he stares at your lips, pursed in concentration, smiling about that stupid fucking barista.

damn tease.

his mind wanders again, thinking about how you’d claw his back as he imagines your tight, velvety walls gripping his cock as he makes you see stars.

“such a tight little pussy YN. All for me, yeah?” he’d pant against your ear. “you think you can keep up this innocent act around me, mhm? you don’t think i can see the little game you’re playing? you can mention another guy’s name in your mouth, but it’s my cock you come all over, and it’s my name you fuckin’ scream.” he growls, gripping onto your hips so he can bully that sweet spot in you and you would let out the most prettiest cry.

“n-no more—nnh!” you would moan. “it’s too much y-yoichi!” you’d whisper pleadingly, watery eyes hazy as your mind would be too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. he’d do nothing but grin at you and just leans forward, folding you in half.

“t-too much y-yoichi!” he’d mock you with an insufferable smirk, one hand sneaking up to grip your tits and the other on your tummy so he can feel his dick move in and out of you lazily, pussy throbbing around him as his fingers slowly tease you clit in slow, deliberate movements, grunting since he can feel you squeezing him so fucking good.

“don’t be a quitter sweetheart.”

and fire would spread across your oversensitive body, writhing and spasming as isagi robs you of an orgasm that’s sure to send you over the moon.

well of course, you’d feel that euphoric feeling if you’d stop playing cat and mouse.

#ཐིཋྀ◞𝓿𝓪𝓷𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓪 𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 #𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒆𝒆𝒌 ૮꒰ྀི⊃⸝ ⸝ ⸝⊂꒱ྀིა #isagi yoichi x reader #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi smut #isagi smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #isagi yoichi imagines #it’s been a while since i wrote ! i think i’m a lil’ rusty oops ૮꒰ つᯅ⊂ ꒱ა

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ceridescent · 9 months

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carribean summer heat — m., wanda

wanda maximoff x female!reader

summary: it's a lovely sight to see wanda maximoff sweating and blushing due to the tropical heat. sometimes it's tricky, because one moment she looks like a baby, and the next, well...you could ask the particular group of people who...but you suppose not. it's impossible they could have seen the hot flush on her cheeks as she handled you then and there, out in the open.

warning/s: top!wanda, bottom!f!reader, dom/sub dynamics, thigh riding, dirty talk, semi-public, mommy kink, use of strap-on, creampie, & teasing.

word count: 4, 300

author’s note: hiiiiii hiiii hiiii i'm so happy i finally have some content to post on my rotting account. ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ (i did have multiple drafts but i forgot tumblr existed 'cause i had off notifs the whole time since may.) it was a giddy, high school girl crush feeling of me to write this filthy fic. (/▽＼*)｡o○♡ i hope everyone's having a wonderful Hot Girl summer!! or a Hot Slutty summer, whichever you prefer. o(>ω<;)o

18+ only. men and minors do NOT interact.

masterlist | navigation

the sun rays barely strike your tanning skin, serving only as an illumination toward the breathtaking view of the caribbean sea as you situate on the patio.

three ivory-colored recliner beach chairs are included in the rental villa, wherein you occupy one whilst the woman who flew a helicopter in saint-barthélemy island, makes piña coladas in the kitchen. a few hours ago you woke up earlier than her, and it was a relieving feeling, of hearing the rise and fall of her breath. a pink blush coated her entire face, unused to the tropical weather. hair stuck on the oval of her face, grinning at how baby-ish she looked. you didn’t bother rousing her though, as you were both selfish for being the sole witness of the rising sun behind the full glass window of the villa, and considerate to allow her more time to rest.

not long after though, she woke up moaning your name, rubbing a whole limb on the empty space you left behind.

“you left me,” wanda whined, her eyes glazed and her red lips pouty.

“they gave us fresh coconuts,” you purred, showing her the fruit. helping her sit up on the white mattress, you plant a chaste kiss on her cheekbone. this feels like a true vacation, you thought to yourself, appreciating the beach elements surrounding the entire villa, and the hard-to-miss view of the sea outside. although, the other thing that left you breathless was wanda’s bare breasts, the only clothing clinging onto her body was the thong she changed into right after she showered last night.

you rested the open edge of the coconut in between her lips, “here,” tipping it upward so she could drink the coconut juice. wanda’s eyes fluttered close, a long and pronounced moan gracing your ears. she covered your hands with her own to hold the fruit, gulping the liquid into her parched mouth. she sighed as she finished, looking at you with a twinkle in her eyes.

she suggested, “we can eat the insides for breakfast, honey,” bending low toward the bedside to fetch her matching bra. you blushed at the recollection of last night. “i’m sure they have some honey in the kitchen somewhere…” you added, watching the tips of her peaks disappear into view.

wanda teased, “you like what you see?”, lightly slapping your face in the process in a playful manner. you tried to forget how her plump breasts felt in your hands as you suckled her dry, returning into the present moment of the beautiful day.

“i would like to eat,” you diverted the topic back into the fruit in your hands, which wasn’t successful as wanda raised an amused brow, pursing her lips together to fight back a smile. you pointed to the coconut to counter her silent reproach, giving her a light blush. “get your head outta gutter, ma’am,” you said and retreated to the kitchen before she could come up with a witty remark, which you’d most likely shut her up with a kiss.

wanda hums the tune from maroon 5’s sunday morning as she exits the indoor, clutching a wooden tray filled with food and replenishments. a board of charcuterie sits in the middle of the two piña coladas. you gasp at the precise detailing, “i’m not done,” blinking your eyes in anticipation, revealing a coconut with a straw strapped to the side. wanda caresses your hair, gives you a kiss on the forehead as you look up at her adoringly. “help yourself, angel,” she said before pecking your cheek. you mewl and melt at her service, appreciating the beautiful woman even more.

the drinks are astounding, satisfying your thirst for something cool in this caribbean summer heat, as well as your insufferable stomach—literal paradise—blinding your attention away from the oval-rimmed eyeglasses, but most especially, her gorgeousness in a bikini. “is that-“

wanda maximoff grins like a cheshire cat, “yes, angel, it’s the one you picked for me!” sometimes wanda does it, she sends you a fitting room pic of her in bikinis—and if you were blessed enough—lingeries—needing a different perspective of what looks flattering on her.

this particular bikini that clings onto her glistening skin is a green tie-front bandeau matched with a thin-string bikini bottom that leaves little to no imagination; highlighting the fullness of her hips down her voluminous thigh. her exposed tight stomach that has a small bruise on the side of her belly button, the heavy cups of her chest. you love how wanda never fails to wear something as if she was born with it and that it never leaves her skin.

you don’t realize until later that your mouth hangs open watching wanda cozy herself onto the beach chair next to you, laying it all out for the sea to see.

“oh,” you choke on your own spit, sight glued onto her cleavage. and if temptation could get any worse, sweat trickles down on the valley of it, getting envious (and more) of how close it is to where you want to be. stammering “you look-l-look-so look so marvelous, w-wan,” you gulp down your insistent saliva and grab the cool piña colada, biting hard on the straw as you sip in the flavor to replace the volcano on your tongue, before saying another that would jeopardize this peaceful, sunny day. (although it isn’t bad if it heads toward that direction.)

“you’re sucking so hard on it, princess,” wanda chuckles, “is it that tasty?” facing you now, leaning her weight against her right arm. her cleavage sag toward gravity, you fear it might actually fall off. short-circuiting for a moment, registering her question, her intention, and her innuendo. trying to calculate and rethink your response as you now, gently, sip the straw, sensing the coolness of your throat and skin, staring at the vast sea.

you turn your gaze on her nose, so wanda would think that you are brave enough to have a staredown with her striking olive green eyes. then you take another hard sip, hollowing your cheeks in the process, at the same time moaning loudly, rolling your eyes back. “oh yes,” you sigh, “it tastes so good, wan! would you like some?”

she grins like a proud mother, “yeah,” reaching for the other glass but you swat her hand away. “nuh-uh,” you spurn, shaking your index finger whilst you stand up from the chair. you take three slow, deliberate steps sipping on the cocktail, not breaking eye contact with her. wanda watches every move in a relaxed position, however, her eyes carry primacy and eagerness—she’s like a hawk with it.

you bat your eyes at her as you lower yourself down, dipping one knee on the beach chair in the open space of her glistening legs, at the same time resting the piña colada on the wooden tray. wanda scoots facing you, realizing what is up your sleeve. a shiver runs down your spine when she holds your love handles, positioning you in place. you swear to not have done anything but sit, like a moan, when she plops you down against her lap, her grip on your knees reluctant as if she’s trying not to clench on you too hard.

wanda’s specs tumble out of place for a second ‘cause you clip the loose strands of blonde hair behind her ear, taking your time. she whines, “i’m getting so thirsty!” jerking your body up and down, making your legs quiver, the friction of your cores heating your bundle of nerves.

sticking an index finger against her complaining lips only to pinch her jawbone to force an opening, without saying a word, you connect your mouth with hers, slowly pushing out the piña colada into her “parched” throat.

wanda flutters her eyes close and hums at the sensation, gulping it down, caressing your back in the process. sluggish and soft, fingertips against your shoulder blades. upward your hair, combing through them. and finally, your neck, massaging your nape in circular motions.

when you pull away you return a soft smile, giddy and grateful, reaching for the glass to give her some more. wanda’s wandering hands begin to become playful, toying with your bikini strap, stretching the fabric just to let it strike your skin. you hiss, slapping her hands away, yet she reprimands you with a smack on the ass. you sigh in relief for not having anything in your mouth.

more perspiration covers her milk skin, moaning at the liquid tantalizing her throat, and you who cannot help but bounce against her, the heat crawling through your body caused by not only the tropical heat of the island.

“princess, wanda whines, pushing your hips hard to stop you from bouncing like a bitch in heat, “what is it?” acting as if she doesn’t know what you’re asking for. “do you want to ride my thigh?”

or maybe she does.

nodding eagerly, you slide your hands over wanda’s arms to intertwine fingers, descending to land on her thigh. “don’t let me go,”

wanda shakes her head, relaxed, rubbing her thumb over, “how am i going to play with your nipples then, honey?”

that particular sentence made you grind hard on her, your pussy throbbing in anticipation. it’s all up to you though, so you begin to feel her voluptuous thigh at home between your legs, at home to be used by your needy pussy. “let me play with them, yeah?”

you allow wanda to let go of your hands, although it doesn’t stay dangling and out of place. she puts them around her waist, “there. so you have something to hold on to,” gathering your hair around her grip. “get on it, little girl. give me a great view.”

you do as told.

somehow, you always need wanda’s approval and permission before doing something that includes her, because it’s different with her. you utterly have faith that she would keep you safe, because most exciting things are dangerous. you become your truest, unapologetic self with her, dependent and clueless. wanda adores it, serving you, treating you like a princess.

hoarsely, “there we go, nice and slow for now, huh?” wanda stares at your whole frame, your legs automatically spreading wider, draping over the chair. she bites her lip, dragging her fingers over your thighs, as you increase your pace. you squeal, pressing your clad pussy against her thigh, “that’s what i’m talking about, baby. make yourself feel good for me,” whilst wanda encourages you with hunger.

you whimper, watching her watch you. blood rushes into your cheeks, bowing down to relieve the tension of being under wanda’s gaze, still unused to the pierce of her green eyes. you only look back when she begins fiddling with your top straps, teasing you with her next move.

you believe you know what’s about to happen and yet she lets them go, cupping your tits with her hands, kneading them into her calloused palms. you topple over at the pleasure, and she holds you up with your breasts, almost crushing them. the action causes you to let out a high-pitched whimper, casually rubbing yourself to take off the insufferable itch in your clit.

“oh god,” you sob when wanda pries the cups open without taking the top off, only setting them aside, as if she’s washing off sand from a seashell with her slender hands. “oh, oh!” feverishly you buck your hips, and “wanda!” a scream follows as she steps on her heel, her thigh going on a slope.

“that’s my pretty girl,” wanda husks, “keep moaning for me,” encouraging you. a simultaneous long moan erupts from both of you as she pinches your peaks, rolling them in between her fingers. a hungry grunt vibrates through her before diving into your tit, sucking it full with her mouth. your hand goes straight through her blonde hair, gripping it through the scalp, and then her shoulder where you find better leverage.

“that’s it-“ wanda huffs, “g-good, good, my good girl,” lost in the pleasure of sucking your chest. “yeah baby come for me-“

wanda guides your hips, setting a quick, solid rhythm. she pulses her heel up and down, and then it hits you,

“come for me, pretty girl. come for mommy-“

screaming and thrashing on top of her.

you crash against her chest, quivering all over, moan after moan tumbling out of your mouth, your hips still moving but at their own accord, with wanda’s hands resting on your buttcheeks. wanda hums when you quiet down, the vibration reaching your nipples, grazing you with a scream, cum dripping out of you. “dirty,” you mewl, referring to your soaked and sticky bikini bottom

wanda groans, “all mine,” palming your pussy through it, shoving her lips onto yours. you happily obliged, probing your tongue in her mouth, which she gladly accepted. massaging them together, suckling, and then nipping her lower lip, brushing your noses together.

“mhm!” you squeal as you pull away, giving wanda a radiant smile. she pinches your cheeks and pecks your nose. “okay then!” she claps her hands together, an eager woman with a plan. she kisses the side of your neck just below your ear. she pulls you away from her, settling you down in between her legs.

she gets up, get cozy, princess, mommy’s just gonna take something inside, okay?”

“mommy,” you whine, “can i come with?”

“no no, princess. it’s a surprise for you, okay? i’ll be back before you know it!” and then she’s gone.

you probably should have added “please” then she would’ve surely brought you in with her. but you do entertain yourself with the little time alone: rearranging glasses back in place, disregarding your wet bottom because wanda would take it off as usual, and finish the cocktail. you also spooned a bit of the coconut’s inside.

a loud chatter pulls you away from your little bubble, a group of people jet skiing echoing through the space. multiple arms wave in your direction, a booming “HELLO” as you wave back, blush coating your cheeks. you push your legs tight together. realizing the openness of the patio, you make a double take behind the place wanda has disappeared off, knowing that there’s more to come out of after your stunt, and most especially that you have brought her dominant side out here.

you drink wanda’s piña colada to pacify your nerves.

wanda isn’t scary, per se, she just gets super duper mega hot and towering—sometimes to the point of la petite mort—but this time the possibility of somebody else kayaking their way into your location makes you palpitate.

kayaking, the deliberate effort of rowing through this calm ocean—the agonizing trail of the canoes—it is something worse than a damn jet ski. this is driving you crazy!

“i’m sorry for the long wait, my darling. mommy couldn’t find it for a while ‘cause she’s thinking about you…”

you take a huge gulp, refusing to look at what's behind you. a hand ghosts on top of the beach chair. “it’s okay, wanda, i like the view here…”

“i know, princess. but it’ll look nicer if you see what mommy packed for you!”

this is her cue to come forward, blocking the peaceful view of the sea, showing her thick strap. you roll your eyes back, trembling all over, making her chuckle at the expected reaction, taking your hand to stroke her cock.

“i love the sound of your whimpers, baby. shows how much effect i have on you,” wanda husks, her desire of giving it to you palpable, because she dirty talks her way into your pussy as she does so. you gasp, “it’s big,” gripping the tip, feeling the faux veins coating the shaft. “you can take it, princess. i know it.”

“i don’t think so…” you dissent, shaking your head, at the same time anticipating it. but surely you can’t take it in you, it’ll hurt so bad. wanda shakes her head and palms your drenched clothed pussy before setting it aside.

she puts a finger in without warning, making you arch your back, a cry “mommy!” leaving your shocked mouth.

“now you’re calling me mommy,” she gives you a disapproving look, but urges you on smiling at the motion of you sucking her middle finger in fully without resistance. “i knew you’d be so wet, so i didn’t bring any lube.”

wanda takes her finger out and puts it in her mouth, moaning at the sweet taste of your cum. “mmm, i might just have to eat you out instead. would you want that, my princess?”

you nod your head rather aggressively, your face contorted in desperation. anything not to take her monster dick. however, wanda must’ve noticed your not-so-subtle calculation because she changes her mind, shaking her head, trying to hide her cheshire smirk.

“no,” she hum, “i think my tongue can wait for this sweet pussy. ‘cause then what’s gonna keep my baby girl’s boobs occupied?”

a squeal leaves your mouth as wanda drags your legs to the edge until it’s draping off the chair. you stick your legs together in the wind, your cum glistening on your pussy. wanda traces the slick that coats your inner thigh, just to get a rise out of you. she bites her lip in anticipation as she lubes her cock with your pussy juice, rubbing the tip over your clit.

“fuck,” she moans, “listen to it,” slapping it the toy against your pussy. “mommy,” you could only respond, already over the whole teasing fit. “please!”

“please what, princess?”

“plea-pl-“

she chuckles. wanda groans as she lines her cock in your opening, “use your words, darling. makes it easier for us,” waiting for you to vocalize.

you fling your hand forward to intertwine them with hers. “please fuck me, mommy. pleaseplease fill meplease!”

wanda whimpers.

“that’s my good girl.”

she enters you slowly, encouraging you to take deep breaths as she spreads your hole, tearing you open to get used to the size. your brows knit together at the sharp pain, mewling at the sensation. wanda peppers kisses all over your neck and jaw, distracting you from the initial process, “hey, hey, baby. it’s okay, mommy’s here–mommy will take care of you.”

your “thank you” gets swallowed by her lips, capturing yours in a languid tango, firm and warm in the tropical heat. your eyes flutter close alike battling sleep as, fighting the urge to just stay open because if you stare long enough at wanda’s eyelashes, you would be able to count them, but you settle with feeling it caressing your cheekbone. she breathes you in with each inhale, her hands coming to your cheeks to get a hold of you even more. you let out a keen for the numerous times she bites your lip, sliding her tongue in when you moan at the first thrust.

you break the kiss, “mommy,” giving her a pleading look. “please.”

she presents you a peck and nods her head, “oh yes,” beginning a pace. “is that okay, princess? does it hurt?”

“little only now, mommy. i like it,” you reply, taking her tongue in yours again.

“yeah?” she pulls away from the kiss, “you like mommy grinding down on you?” pushing in her length harder, her pace controlled. you hear the beach chair thud against the movement. your tits bounce at the same time, whimpering, tugging her hand, “faster please-“

“no, no. mommy’s gonna take her time, my love. i need to feel every inch of you before we get back. fuck! i’ve never fucked you in a bikini! it’s been in my bucket list for months now and i could finally-!”

wanda finds her pace, a grunt leaving her, pumping deeper into you, “-do this!” a cry leaving your swelling lips as your back arches in the process, her cock stuffing you full. “thank you, feels so good,” you slur, eyes rolling back, seeing the blue of cloudy skies. you think you begin to drool.

wanda makes an incoherent statement, her lower lip bitten to hold back her moans. a bucket of sweat forms on her forehead, little bubbles that slide down through her forehead and blushing face. her hair tangles in knots like a wet mop, clinging against her back.

her hands slither through your body, tracing patterns on your stomach, playing with your belly button. “you’re welcome,” she sighs, “anything for my favorite lady,” whispering over your ear, her hot puffs making your spine quiver. she nibbles your earlobe.

and your neck, sinking her teeth into flesh, planting a bruise, gripping your waist tight to pull you forward to meet her pounding. “ah fuck, wanda!” you yelp, as she stretches your pussy hole open and full. bucking her hips with no abandon, chasing that high that belongs in between your legs, her primal urge to please you—to hear you scream her name in your favorite vacation spot—to make you come apart only for her to build you back up.

“oh baby, uh,” wanda keens, clipping her hair out of the way of seeing you fucked out, “play with your tits, y/n. come on, please! show me your pretty bits,”

a high-pitched moan sounds out of you from wanda’s desperation, mimicking her movement a sex ago, setting your cups to the side. your fingers shake as you pinch and roll your nipples, your moans getting higher and prolonged the more you tug at them. your whole body spasms, thrashing under wanda who makes it her life’s mission to make you come around her cock.

you hear her chuckle close to your ear, licking a column of your neck, peppering kisses down onto your chest, replacing your fingers with her lips and tongue.

“so hard, so ha-“

“harder!” you sob, jackhammering your hips to meet hers, every snap ending with the sound of your juices thwacking around wanda’s big dick.

“hey, hey, princess look,” wanda slaps your face lightly to catch your attention, at the brink of tapping out, your brain unable to cope up with the situation anymore. you push your hoods open—screaming at the shock—the sight of wanda’s bare breasts bouncing up and down, looking so supple and fresh.

“mommy,” you whine, “i wanna suck you,”

how you managed to let that out you don’t know.

wanda whimpers, “oh baby,” purring as she downs her pace, “here princess,” taking one tit and holding in front of your mouth, “suck mommy good yeah?”

you only nod your head, speaking less to more. your mouth envelops in the hard peaks of the older woman, flicking it with your tongue before you actually suck it. wanda lets out a shaky breath, “y-yeah princess. be a good girl for mommy-“ driving her cock in your wet cunt in one swift thrust, frantic to hear you once more.

“y/n!” wanda writhes, the only leverage she has over you is her hands clenching your sides, “fuck fuckfuck me- mommy’s so close princess-!” screaming along with you.

“mommy, mommy,” you slur, attempting to wrap your legs around her waist but it’s too imposible with the energy you have. although wanda takes notice, helping you, wrapping one leg around her, whilst the other takes your hand the way you intended to in the first place. “yes, princess. mommy’s clo–come with me, please? come with me m’kay?”

repetitive words tumble out of wanda’s lips with the way her mind untangles as well, lost in the pleasure of having you fucked brainless. her tit falls off your mouth when you fling your head back, nearing into your climax. one more thrust—

a familiar loud chatter enters your hearing, pointing toward your direction, wanda noticing the same thing as she pauses for a beat, and before shame could creep into your head, she jolts her hips recklessly, fucking you with a few visitors.

“fuck yeah? we got an audience, baby. better give them our best sho-“

wanda chokes out a sob the same time as you, convulsing and trembling together at the climax. multiple expletives grunts out of her filthy mouth, complementing your sputtering.

wanda screams the same time as you do, crashing together. multiple expletives come out of her filthy mouth, complementing your whiny sounds.

“m-mommy!” you whine, drool dripping out of your mouth, “please–“ wanda grinning down at you, the loud chatter that once was powerful now weak and non-existent. “yes princess?” she purrs, washing the orgasm out of you. “i think you made them shut up, baby,” she chuckles breathlessly, her face red and wet. “but…we’re not done yet.”

you whine, exhaustion already painted all over you. “nope,” wanda pops the p and fixes your disheveled hair. you look so fucked out, not even a workout excuse is going to hide that.

“i just…” wanda takes her time to come up with something, a sugarcoated truth, maybe? or a white lie?

“…i wanna put all my cum inside you,” she lets out quietly, batting her eyes at you.

you cry with your legs spread open and shaking, ropes of cum filling your pussy hole. wanda giggles and moves her cock in a sensual pace, making sure nothing goes to waste.

“i’m so full mommy!”

“so full of my cum! how does it feel being filled with cum, huh, princess?”

you can barely open your eyes at this point, but wanda insists, slapping your face lightly to catch your short attention span. “you like it?”

“yes, mommy. makes me wanna suck you,” you whimper as wanda moans. “i’ll fuck my cum in you some more and then i’ll get to fuck your face?”

“yes, you offer breathlessly, drifting off. she takes your chin so you could face her, “no, no,” giving you a demanding look, “yes what?”

she puts her thumb in your mouth and you automatically suck. “yes, mommy.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda x reader #marvel smut #wlw smut

2K notes · View notes

sketchguk · 1 year

Text

in my head; kth

➵ pairing: fwb!taehyung x reader

➵ genre: pwp (porn with plot), angst, college au

➵ word count: 8k

➵ synopsis: taehyung’s friends love you ー adore you. they probably want to fuck you, but they’ll never admit to it. instead, they’ll push taehyung’s limits in the middle of a frat party, testing just how close they can get to you before he takes you to bed in a fit of jealousy. and maybe, just maybe, one of his friends can have a taste too (if he’s lucky).

inspired by thuy's in my head

warnings under the cut!

➵ warnings: unrequited love, commitment issues, dacryphilia, degradation (use of the word slut, whore, and pervert), fingering, oral (f receiving), spit kink, overstimulation, use of the color system, breast play, hand job, unprotected (jealous/possessive) sex, marking, impact play (slapping - face & pussy, spanking), breeding kink, choking, mirror sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, manhandling, mentions of intoxication (mc & taehyung are sober!), use of the word daddy, mentions of religion, ass play, mentions of dp, creampie

You can’t help but think that this is a terrible idea. The heavy bass and the sound of rap lyrics vibrate through the walls of the old Victorian house. Unfamiliar voices are muffled beneath the syncopated beats, and you can’t make out a single word.

You’ve managed to escape the sticky, beer-stained floors and the heat of the frat party downstairs. Instead, you’ve sought refuge in one of the bedrooms, hand-in-hand with none other than Kim Taehyung himself.

The space around you is dark, save for the dim lamp behind you. You’re propped on top of his tiny desk, careful not to knock over the expensive camera that rests beside you.

“I thought you were gonna show me your new photos.” You pull apart from Taehyung’s lips, meeting his gaze between pretty eyelashes.

Your words slur, finding it difficult to talk with his tongue in your mouth. A string of spit connects your lips together. It threatens to break loose the further you recline.

With hooded eyes, he leans forward, chasing after your kiss. “What’s the rush?”

His lips brush against the corner of your mouth as his hand wanders down to the hem of your dress, bunching it over your waist. The straps have already fallen loose from your shoulders, the top of your breasts spill out from over the fabric.

Taehyung grips your jaw, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. His nose nudges against the column of your neck. A sigh falls from his lips as he lingers over your pulse point, his breath hot against your skin, teeth grazing.

He glides a finger over the taut fabric of your panties. It’s soaked from your arousal, wet and sticky between your thighs.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he taunts with a crooked smile. “I’ve barely even touched you.”

Although that may be true, you’ve been kissing for what feels like over an hour.

In an effort to pull him closer, you wrap your legs around his waist. The outline of his erection leaves an imprint against the fabric of his sweats. It rests against your core, hot and heavy. You shift in your seat, desperately wanting him to pull your underwear to the side so he could stuff you full.

“Who got you this worked up, hm?” Taehyung dips his head down to kiss your shoulder.

His fingers squeeze your cheeks once again, and he angles your face to look him in the eyes, domineering. The hum of his low voice sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is dark and hazy with lust and desire.

There’s a soft glow of light that surrounds you, almost like a halo. Taehyung thinks that you look the prettiest at times like this ー when you’re pressed beneath his weight, right in the palm of his hands.

You meet his eyes before shifting focus to his swollen lips. He quirks his brow, and you melt in his touch. Perhaps you’ve been staring at him for a moment too long because you can feel your saliva pool out of your mouth, dribbling down your chin.

Taehyung’s thumb swipes across your bottom lip, collecting your drool. “What’s wrong, love?” He tsks, tapping the side of your cheek. “You always have so much to say, but now what? Don’t tell me you’ve gone this stupid for cock.”

A fervent whine escapes from your parted lips. Your eyes brim with tears as your cunt pulses with desperate need, aching to feel Taehyung inside of you, even if it’s just the tip.

Taehyung throbs at the sight of your soaked eyelashes, but he pays no mind to your pleas as he sinks down to his knees.

“Let’s try again.” He spreads your legs further apart, trailing kisses against the inside of your thigh. “Who made you this wet?” His lips hover over your panty clad cunt before mouthing against the fabric.

“Taehyung, don’t tease,” you shake your head, babbling. “You’re the only one I want, you know that.”

He pushes the cotton aside, revealing your sweet pussy to his wandering eyes.

“I’m the only one?” In a deep voice, he hums against your folds. “Are you sure it’s not Namjoon?”

You shake your head in denial. “Just you,” you say in a hushed tone.

His fingers spread your lips apart, watching you clench around nothing. Taehyung lingers above you before releasing a glob of spit onto your core. It glides between your slit, dripping down your entrance.

You spread your legs wider, making room for his broad shoulders. His gentle, teasing fingers trace across your sensitive lips before dipping them between your velvety walls.

“You seemed to be really cozy with Joonie though,” Taehyung pumps two fingers inside of you, easily gliding between your soaked cunt. “You were acting like such a needy slut downstairs, I swear that you wanted to fuck my friends.”

His jaw clenches. You can sense a hint of jealousy in his tone. You find that to be odd considering Taehyung is never jealous.

He’s not even yours.

Taehyung has always been difficult to read. More often than not, in the lonely hours of the night, you’re within an arm's reach, prepared to keep him company, dropping everything at his beck and call.

After tangling between the sheets at the end of every night, he’d comb his fingers through your freshly-washed hair, careful not to linger too long on the hickeys that scatter across your collarbone.

Meanwhile, you’d trace hearts onto his back, wondering what he thinks about when he looks at you ー whether or not your name sits inside of his head in that current moment, if ever at all.

Time and time again, he reminds you that this is just casual. The two of you are supposed to let loose and have fun.

Yet he holds your hand so gently when you cross the street, when you slow dance in the quiet of the night, and when he fucks you deeply and ardently into the mattress. After, he’d order Chinese delivery to your house, stuffing siu mai in your cheeks so that you would shut up and stop talking nonsense about paying him back.

He even kisses your forehead and calls you his good girl after leaving love bites on your neck.

It would be impossible not to fall for someone like Kim Taehyung as kind, sweet, and humble as he is.

If you ask him to be your boyfriend, would he laugh? Would he furrow his brows and wonder why? Would he utter a vague response? Something along the lines of “I don’t know.” He often deploys these words when he’s faced with questions he doesn’t want to think about.

In your mind, the worst case scenario occurs when Taehyung breaks it off right then and there, asking you to leave. Meanwhile, you linger by the door, begging him to love you just once, and maybe twice ー Through the ups, downs, and in betweens.

It never happens. You never ask. You never bring it up. You just go through the motions, settling for the warmth of Taehyung’s body, even if it’s a temporary fix.

Lost in your own thoughts, you bite back a whimper. Your hand shoots up to cover your mouth. Taehyung grabs your wrist, placing it at the edge of his desk.

“You weren’t this shy when you were whispering in Jimin’s ear ー when his hand was on your thigh, and when you were acting like a huge, desperate cock tease.”

The possessive part of Taehyung’s brain takes root when he guides his hand between your legs, slapping your clit. Shuddering under his touch, you release a silent scream.

Taehyung plunges another finger inside of you, stretching you apart with a steady pace. It feels like too much, yet not enough at the same time. Your head is spinning, body sensitive from the heat of his skin against yours.

“I want to hear you cry for me.” His brows furrow. A look of faux sympathy crosses his angelic features. “Unless you don’t want my friends to hear you being such a whore.” He speaks so casually, as if he didn’t just drop another glob of spit onto your mound. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if Namjoon was here though ー watching you.”

You shake your head, panting for air, trying to catch your breath as he curls his fingers inside of you.

“Really? Then how about Jimin?” He taunts you so cruelly.

Your tongue darts out of your mouth, licking your lips before you can bring yourself to speak. It’s too difficult to form words when your mind is numb on pleasure, nothing but a steady hum of static.

But if there’s one thing that you should know about Taehyung is that he is not a patient man (despite the fact that he’s been edging you for the better part of the last hour). It’s evident when he wraps his hand around your throat, bringing your attention back to his hazy eyes. He needs your answer, and he needs it now.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he says, demanding, squeezing the column of your neck.

He’s obsessed with the way your throat constricts beneath the pressure of his grip as you swallow your spit.

“Would you prefer if Jeongguk was here then?”

His lips curl into a smile as if he’s testing you, but you see right through his sweet facade. Kim Taehyung is nothing if not mean in bed. If you were to be honest, he would find a way to punish you despite the reassurance in his tone.

After all, Kim Taehyung has never been one to show you mercy. He will spank you, choke you, and fuck you until you’re at the edge of your limit, simply because you let him. Because you love it, and you love when you’re reduced to nothing but a slutty little mess.

“It’s just you, Tae,” you murmur weakly. “Just want you, not Guk.” Despite the affirmation in your voice, your walls clench around Taehyung’s fingers.

Guk? Since when did you ever use nicknames with Jeongguk?

“Love, we both know that’s not true,” he says, slapping your clit once again.

You curse under your breath.

“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry,” you sob with tears streaming down your face, but you adore every second of it. Taehyung takes a moment to wipe the tears from your eyes before pressing a tender kiss to the apples of your cheeks.

“I saw the two of you at the door earlier,” Taehyung begins, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, biting the flesh between his teeth.

It’s true that Jeongguk invited you to the party. Actually, he asked you long before Taehyung had even brought it up. But no, Jeongguk is not your date and neither is Taehyung.

At the very least, Jeongguk had the decency to acknowledge you and give you an ounce of attention (Taehyung would argue that Jeongguk looks at you like he’s in love with you, yet you remain oblivious, chalking it down to being friends).

The entire evening, you talked his ear off about your neuroscience research ー the idea of emotional numbness being a symptom of certain psychological disorders. It sounds depressing, but when you manage to break it down, comparing it to Widowmaker’s genetically modified brain chemistry, Jeongguk clung onto your every word.

Not only are you so adorable, but so fucking brilliant. On top of that… you can unpack the lore of his favorite Overwatch hero for hours on end? You might just be the girl he’s been searching for in all of his dreams. It’s no wonder he looks at you with so much love in his eyes.

Meanwhile, throughout the whole night, Taehyung was too “busy” to approach you ー only watched from afar. He can’t risk the thought of people finding out about your relationship. Rather, he was swarmed with girls hanging off of his arm, vying for his attention. Yet the only thing he saw was you.

You finally had a moment alone when he brushed against your arm, asking you to trail him upstairs to “show” you the photos he took on his new camera.

And that is exactly how you found yourself in this predicament.

“Jeongguk was so sweet to take off your jacket and offer you a drink.” Taehyung circles your clit with calloused fingers as if he has all the time in the world.

These soft, gentle touches only mark the beginning of your punishment, and you’d be lucky if you could crawl out of bed tomorrow morning. You close your eyes, praying to a higher power that you’ll make it out of here in one piece.

“Have you seen the way he looks at you?” He murmurs against your jaw, pressing a kiss to your chin, barely missing the soft curve of your lips. “I’m pretty sure he thinks about you when he touches himself.”

To emphasize his point, Taehyung glides his hand down the inner part of your thigh. Goosebumps ripple across your skin as you shiver in his hold.

“What if Jeongguk was here, watching you beg for my cock, hm?” Taehyung hums. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You whine desperately, saying anything that would please Taehyung despite how easily your body betrays you ー pussy pulsing with need, carnal and insatiable.

Anyone could tell that Jeongguk has a huge crush on you. It’s in the way that he looks at you with wide, lovestruck eyes. He holds onto every single one of his words as if you’re rewriting the stars. Whenever you share a lame joke that flies over everyone’s head, he’s giggling like it’s the funniest thing in the world.

Truthfully? Nothing pisses Taehyung off more than that.

Somehow, even the sound of Jeongguk’s name makes you clench around Taehyung’s fingers.

“Do you want him to fuck you?”

The image of Jeongguk making room for himself in your cunt makes you break into tears, sobbing. Or perhaps Jeongguk would be the type to take it slow, you can never be so sure. His pretty face is so deceptive. Maybe he would memorize every inch of your skin and make love in a way you’ve never quite understood.

“Because I know that Guk wants to.” Taehyung says it as a matter of fact. As if he knows something that you don’t. There’s malice in his tone when he utters the nickname you’ve defaulted to.

“Would you let the boys watch? Namjoon? Jimin? You know they’re quite fond of you, right? You might give them the impression that they have a chance with you because you’re such an easy slut.” Taehyung spins a dirty fantasy inside of your head while he rubs deft circles onto your clit. Your slick arousal seeps out of your pulsing cunt, soaking his fingers.

“I bet you’d let Jeongguk fuck you raw too.”

The innermost part of you thinks about Jeongguk losing his innocent image so that he could stretch you open and flood you with his cum, round after round. How he would plug your needy cunt with his length, forcing you to cockwarm him, locking his cum inside of you until he’s ready to ruin you all over again.

How would Taehyung feel if he were to watch? You can’t decide if he would love it or hate it, and neither can you.

Jeon Jeongguk is nothing if not kind, so surely, he could do you one favor, right?

With the thought of Jeongguk stretching you open, your orgasm washes over you, and you tremble in Taehyung’s arms, consumed by your climax. You cry out, muttering apologies over and over again. Tears cascade down your cheeks, unable to control yourself.

But perhaps you’re not sorry at all.

That’s all it takes for Taehyung to latch his mouth onto your clit, sucking harshly on the small bundle of nerves. You buck your hips, wanting him impossibly closer, but his hands squeeze around your waist, pinning you to the table.

His tongue delves between your entrance, lapping the arousal that drips out of you. The taste of your cum is such a sweet reward, but it’s almost offensive how you could come to the thought of fucking another man, a man who is not him, but one of his friends and fraternity brothers. Even if Taehyung was the one to flood your head with thoughts of Jeongguk, he can’t seem to handle the truth.

Maybe, just maybe, it’s because you could slip through his fingers and leave him at any point in time. How much longer can you deal with this lack of commitment ー no strings attached situationship?

The gossip among your friends isn’t lost on him. He knows that they don’t like him, always urging you to step away. An ember ignites inside of his chest when he recounts a conversation he once overheard: ‘Jeongguk’s been asking about you. You should give him a chance, don’t you think? What if he’s the one?’

As if Taehyung has something to prove, he works you into overdrive, sucking your clit into his mouth as he rolls the small bundle of nerves with his tongue.

You reach down, gripping his hair between your fingers, feeling much too overstimulated after your first orgasm. Taehyung digs his face deeper into your pussy in hopes that he can elicit the sweet whimpers that make his cock leak with beads of precum.

From beneath his desk, he drags down the band of his sweats, just low enough for him to pull out his dick. His hand wraps around his length, jerking off to the sound of your moans and the way that your pussy weeps for him, squelching into the quiet of the night.

Taehyung eats you out like he’s starving ー messy and depraved. You’re dripping in arousal, completely soaking his chin with your essence.

Your legs quiver, closing around Taehyung’s head as you approach your high once again. He circles his arms around your thighs, spreading them wide apart. You’re rendered immobile, forced to take him like the good girl he knows you are.

He picks up the pace, forcing his tongue deep between your walls.

Trembling in his hold, you tip over the edge with a sob that rips through your throat. Your cunt pulses as he laps up the cum dripping from your core.

Your fingernails dig into his scalp, yet Taehyung has no intention of stopping. In fact, the pain drives him to work even faster. He swipes his tongue against your clit, sucking on the bud and working you into overstimulation. He needs to make sure that you don’t ever think about touching another man but him.

He may not be yours, but you are his without a single doubt.

Taehyung plunges his fingers back inside of you, massaging the inside of your cunt with delicious friction. It’s on the border of pleasure and pain, yet you welcome it as you ride out your high.

“Taehyung…” You whimper in a weak voice, “It’s too much…” Once more, you tug on his hair, pulling him apart from your cunt, even as it pulses in his wake.

But Taehyung can’t help himself, lurching forward, he wedges himself between your thighs. He needs to taste you, just a little more as if this is the last time he’ll ever have you. He kisses your clit, repeatedly, one smooch after another ー completely pussy drunk. He knows that you can take it.

You slump against his desk, legs weak. But there’s nothing you can do. What Taehyung wants, Taehyung gets. And all he wants is to mark you, claim you, and breed you until you’re filled with his cum for days on end.

Taehyung wipes his chin with the back of his hand, and it just might be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. He picks you up from beneath your thighs, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

You’re no stranger to the bounce of his bed as he lays you on top of his covers. You’ve been there a dozen times before, having memorized the feeling of the cool, linen fabric against your exposed skin.

Taehyung tugs on the neckline of your dress, revealing your breasts to his hungry eyes. He suckles on one of your pert nipples while twisting the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Meanwhile, you reach forward, palming his erection through his sweatpants. He grinds against your hand as he hums into your chest. Murmurs of “mine, mine, mine.”

His hand reaches down to circle your wrist before shoving them down his pants. He dips your hand beneath the fabric, guiding your hand to fist his cock, pumping his length without the burden of cotton in between.

It’s heavy in your hands, long and thick. You can barely wrap your fingers around the circumference of it all.

Taehyung shifts focus onto your neck, sucking love bites into your delicate skin. To fuel his ego, he needs the rest of the world to know that you belong to him. That nobody can fuck you better than him. Not Namjoon, not Jimin, and definitely not Jeongguk.

“Tae, I need you.” The words are slurred coming out of your mouth. You’re delirious, yet you haven’t even had a taste of him.

“You think you deserve my cock?” He tilts his head to the side, arching his brow. His question is rhetorical, yet you can’t help but nod with desperation.

It’s condescending and downright degrading, but you grow wetter upon tasting his arrogance. You should feel pathetic for wanting his warmth and his comfort, yet in this very moment, he is the only thing that you crave.

Taehyung tugs his shirt over his head and drags his sweatpants down to his thighs. He slides his bare cock between your folds. It’s puffy and much too sensitive, but you love the feeling of his weight on you.

He taps your clit with the head of his cock once, twice, three-four times.

“Who does this pretty cunt belong to?” He doesn’t shift his gaze, even when your eyes roll back, consumed with blinding pleasure.

“It’s yours, Taehyung,” you whimper, melting into the sheets. “I’m all yours.”

“Good girl, that’s what I like to hear,” he says before tapping your bottom lip.

Instinctually, you open your mouth, and he drops a glob of spit straight down your throat.

Before you can even swallow, Taehyung is lining up his cock with your entrance until he bottoms out, leaving you with little to no time to adjust to his girth.

“My pussy’s all yours.” You manage to mutter a string of words, breathless, half coherent as he stretches you wide open.

“Mine?” Taehyung quirks his brow. His jaw clenches. “Then how about I fuck a baby inside of you, huh?”

If you had any semblance of sanity, your rationality would have spoken against it. But when Taehyung looks at you with such desperate eyes, almost animalistic, you can’t help but to wrap your legs around his waist, forcing his cock deeper into your fertile cunt, begging him to breed you.

The squelch of your heat fills the otherwise quiet room. It’s verging on pornographic ー the sound of skin slapping on skin. When he nestles his hips against yours like two pieces of a puzzle, he groans against your collarbone, resuming his mission to claim you and make you his, ravishing your skin until a deep bruise forms in its place.

He glides into you so effortlessly, his pace punishing. The slick of your arousal allows him to rut into you like you were made for him. By now, you’re certain that he’s fucked your pussy into the shape of his cock. It’s reserved for Taehyung so long as he’ll have you.

He grabs the back of your thighs, folding you in half, right into a press, perfect for breeding. But not before roughly delivering a spank to the curve of your ass. The impact leaves a temporary mark, and you thrive off of the attention that he gives you.

You’re so fucked out, you can’t think of anything other than coming with Taehyung’s name on your tongue.

He pounds into you with a force that causes your body to inch up the mattress. The bed frame rocks against the wall, but neither of you care about the repercussions. Nobody could possibly hear you whoring yourself out when the boom of the bass is so loud downstairs.

Would it really be such a bad thing if someone were to catch you?

It should be humiliating how wet you are, soaking his cock like a bitch in heat. But in fact, you’re in love with the way he prods your cervix as he finds his home nestled inside of you.

Taehyung grips the underside of your jaw, turning your head so that you can face the floor length mirror on the other side of the bed.

His lips press against the shell of your ear as he whispers sweet nothings against your blazing hot skin. “You’re such a good girl. Look at how well you take me,” he coos.

You stare into your reflection, eyes meeting your own in the mirror. Your makeup is a complete and utter mess. Your mascara runs down your cheeks from the tears in your eyes, your lipgloss stained from all the kisses you’ve shared.

Taehyung’s hips roll against yours, and your gaze shifts to the strain of his muscles. His back is so broad and so strong. His biceps flex from holding himself above your body.

From this angle, you can see the way he drives into you. Your pussy can’t help but swallow him deeper and deeper, accommodating his length as it drags against your walls with a delicious, slow burn. He fucks you so ardently, he can barely pull away for long before burrowing right back into your core, settling into the deepest parts of you.

With your eyes trained on the mirror, you can spot the faint love bite that blooms beneath his ear. Perhaps there is a small part of Kim Taehyung that does belong to you. Or maybe your mind is playing tricks on your heart once again.

Taehyung props himself up on his knees for more leverage. But before he can situate himself, he notices the small crack in the doorway, slightly ajar. Through the gap, he can see the wandering eyes of his fellow fraternity brother, none other than Park Jimin. He genuinely has no idea how long he’s been standing there.

Feeling high on some power trip, Taehyung flashes an amused smirk at the man on the other side of the door, shooting him a wink as he plows his hips against yours.

There’s a small part of Jimin’s subconscious that makes him believe he should walk away and pretend that this never happened. It feels wrong to spy on his best friend splitting your sweet cunt in half, but he can’t seem to look away. The longer he stares, the harder he gets.

Maybe it’s the boost of serotonin that Jimin gets from the sight of your tits. They’re bouncing from the force of Taehyung’s thrusts, and he can only imagine how they would feel beneath his palms. Perhaps it’s the sound of your dulcet voice, begging Taehyung to fuck you deeper, spank you harder, and love you louder.

Jimin has only ever dreamt about the sound of your moans, but now, he can hear them loud and clear from the other side of the door.

He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand. Perhaps this is a dream. Or maybe he’s a little too drunk at this point of the night.

But when he looks up again, he’s met with Taehyung’s darkened eyes. Jimin’s mouth goes dry, wishing that he could be there in place of his dear friend.

In all of his dreams, Jimin has never pictured you to like it so rough. You’ve always been so kind and so sweet, offering to clean the dishes among his dirty fraternity brothers. You’re so considerate to keep him company while he builds his Lego sets late into the evening.

You’re practically the face of innocence.

Now with this knowledge of you being a dirty, little whore, he can stow it away into the back of his mind, saving it for the dark and restless nights.

When Taehyung’s thumb meets your clit, you whimper his name. It’s raw, almost painful, coming from your scratchy throat.

“Say it again,” Taehyung demands, tapping the side of your face with his free hand before gliding it down to your neck. “Say my name again. If you want me to cum inside of you, beg.”

You cry out his name as your eyes roll back, his length prodding against your cervix, bruising the soft, spongy spot inside of you. Unintelligible murmurs spill from your lips. “I’ll do whatever you want. I just want your cum, I need it, please, please, please. Need you to fuck me full. I want your babies, daddy. You promised, remember?”

Something inside of Taehyung ignites whenever you call him daddy. “You need it? Need my cum? My babies?”

Taehyung picks up the pace, burying himself deep inside of you. His tone is mocking, and you fall apart to the sound of his voice. “What a needy fucking plaything.”

He pays no mind to the way you shudder beneath him, tears falling down your face. He continues to maneuver you into a different position, manhandling your body in a way that has you clenching around him even tighter, sheathing his cock deeper between your walls. He hooks his arm beneath the bend of your knees, lifting your legs over his shoulders until you curl beneath him.

You’re addicted to the way he fills you to the brim, splitting you in half. A ring of milky cream coats the base of his cock, revealing itself whenever he pulls out the slightest bit. It’s mixed with the saliva that he drops onto your mound, making the glide so effortless.

Had this been any other night, Taehyung would not let you off the hook this easily. Instead, he would humiliate you into begging. Your face would be pushed into the mattress while he makes a mess of your pussy. He would spill his load inside of you while prolonging your orgasm, only allowing you to come if you beg for it. But tonight, he’s being much too kind in the presence of his guest.

Taehyung brings his hand down, spanking the curve of your ass. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” He groans against your lips.

You shudder once again when he strikes your clit ー “This pussy is mine.” At this point, you would have thought you’d be used to it by now, but the impact continues to surprise you every time.

He gives a harsh thrust into your cunt, deep and rough. Rushed murmurs of “mine, mine, mine.” For good measure, he spits on your face and slaps your cheek. Kim Taehyung fully knows that you do belong to him, and he needs Jimin to know that.

Taehyung grabs your waist and flips you over so that you straddle his hips. He grips your jaw with a firm grasp, forcing your head toward the direction of the door. He doesn’t seem to forget about his dear friend. Because apparently, Park Jimin is as much of a pervert as you are.

When you lock eyes with Jimin on the other side, you clamp around Taehyung’s length.

He just knows that you love the attention.

Your legs tremble on either side of his waist, and you want to collapse into his chest to hide in embarrassment. Humiliation prickles your cheeks, but you know there’s nowhere to run.

As a reminder of his presence, Taehyung grips your waist. “Color?” All you have to do is say the word, and he’ll stop.

You’ve expressed your interest in exhibitionism before, yet Taehyung has always been the one to keep your relationship a dirty little secret. So it doesn’t come as a surprise when you nod your head in confirmation, cursing out the words, breathless. “Green.”

“‘Atta girl,” Taehyung groans, squeezing your hips. “Why don’t you show Jimin how you ride?” He suggests, clenching his jaw.

There’s an innate need to show Jimin what a pretty, desperate little toy that you are. So you bounce on your knees, fucking yourself onto Taehyung’s cock.

Jimin can’t keep his eyes off of you as your tits bounce on full display. His eyes scan your body up and down, taking note of the dress that bunches around your waist. It’s the same strawberry pattern that you wore to Sunday service the week prior.

He remembers how pretty you looked as you sat cross legged on the other side of the pew 一 when you had volunteered to pass around plates of food for the elders at the luncheon and when you had flashed him a gummy smile after pouring you a glass of orange juice. But now, the image of you in that same exact dress has tainted his memory.

Your hands rest on Taehyung’s chest as you grind your hips onto his. With each brush against your clit, you shudder, slowly losing your senses from the mind numbing pleasure.

Soon enough, you lose your rhythm, jagged and off-tempo. Your thrusts are much too shallow for Taehyung’s liking, your thighs burning. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. But you can’t help it when you’re a little too distracted by Jimin’s eyes boring into yours.

“You can do better than that,” Taehyung growls, landing a sharp slap against your ass. His fingers dig into your waist. Your flesh gives way to his grip, dimpling beneath the pressure.

“Tell Jimin how much you love being fucked like a whore.” Taehyung says, punctuating each syllable with a sharp thrust.

Because you are constantly under Taehyung’s spell, you do as you’re told, whining out Jimin’s name with tears in your eyes. “Minnie…” Taehyung grits his teeth, hating how close you are to all of his friends. At the end of the day, you’re his.

There’s no hesitation in your voice. “Love it so much 一 Love being Taehyung's slut. He fucks me so well, he’s ruined me for anyone else. I can’t- I can’t-” The sobs wrack through your body as the dirty words pool out of your mouth. “Please, Tae, I want to come so bad. I’ve been a good girl, please, please please- I promise I won’t act up anymore, I only want you.”

Taehyung has trouble believing your lies. You’ve been anything but a good girl all night. The images flash before his eyes 一 you drinking with Namjoon, leaning into Jimin’s touch, giggling with Jeongguk. Fuck, the way you came around his fingers when he flooded your pretty little head with thoughts of his friend claiming you in front of everyone like a needy whore 一 it sets a fire ablaze inside of him.

The only thing you’ve done that’s worthy of praise is making room for Taehyung’s fat cock inside of your slutty cunt.

Taehyung forces two fingers into your mouth, demanding you to suck. You swirl your tongue around his digits, making them nice and wet before he traces them down your spine. He circles the puckered rim of your ass before dipping right into your tight hole.

“Would you let Jimin fuck you here?” Taehyung asks, searching for the answer in your eyes. “You could probably come with him in your ass, no?”

Tears stream down your cheeks as you shake your head no.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t done it before, love. I know you can come as long as your holes are filled,” he coos. “Wouldn’t it feel so much better if you had two dicks inside of you? Sweet girl, I know you can take it.”

You clench at the sound of his filthy words. Taehyung has never proposed a threesome before. He hardly talks to his fraternity brothers about you, whether it is out of privacy, jealousy, or embarrassment, you can never be sure.

Drool starts to drip out of your mouth and pride swells up inside of Taehyung’s heart.

He circles his arms around your waist, bringing you down to his chest. Digging his heels into the mattress, he bends his knees to thrust into you at a merciless pace. His perfect tempo hits your soft, spongy center with such precision. The head of his cock grazes against your g spot with every stroke, and you whine into his neck.

Your eyes are threatening to close, and you find it difficult to catch your breath.

Taehyung murmurs against your skin, reminding you to breathe. Upon hearing his calm voice, your chest heaves against his.

“Come with me, come with me,” he demands, his voice breathy. “Show him that you’re mine.”

With a few deep thrusts, you come on Taehyung’s cock, pulsing around his length. You clench around him so tight as though you never want him to leave. The sound of Taehyung’s moans are muffled by the blood rushing to your head. All you can hear is the thrum of your pulse, pounding against your ear drums.

Taehyung’s hips still against yours as he grabs your waist, trying to find a semblance of self-control. He spills into your cunt with thick spurts of white, hot cum, filling you to the brim. It pours out from between your walls, coating the side of his length.

Your breath is labored as you collapse into his chest, much too weak to hold yourself up any longer.

When you look over at Jimin, there’s a dark, wet spot over the crotch of his pants. A small whimper escapes from his parted lips, his eyes screwed shut.

If you did not have a modicum of rationality in your post orgasmic haze, you would think that Taehyung would offer to invite him inside. But as you’ve come to learn, Taehyung is not a fan of sharing what’s his.

So when the show is over, Jimin is quick to step into the bathroom where he can touch himself to the fresh visual of you in your strawberry print dress. Perhaps he can conjure up the image of you on your knees, wrapping your pretty lips around his throbbing cock. He would die a happy man if he could paint your perfect tits with his cum. But for now, he’ll have to settle with the glide of his hand, imagining that it’s your tight walls sucking him into the warmth of your cunt.

And once Jimin cleans himself up, he’ll be on his merry way to tell his dear friends about the best thing he has ever witnessed in his entire life. He’d be $20 richer after Seokjin coughs up the money he bet on your relationship. And maybe Jeongguk will finally come to terms with his feelings before he loses you completely.

Surely, when all is said and done, Taehyung has cleaned up the mess that he’s made, making sure that you’re happy and well taken care of. He kisses your lips and rubs your back, taking his time to clean you up.

He’s extra gentle when he wipes a wet cloth against your swollen pussy. It’s far too sore after the rough pounding that he had put you through. Possibly bruised and broken, at least that’s how your body feels, yet you wouldn’t be opposed if he suggested another round after you’ve recuperated because you’re simply insatiable.

Yet that moment never comes because the two of you tuck yourselves beneath the covers, making small talk until the morning rises.

You never mention Namjoon nor Jimin. And you definitely wouldn’t dare to utter Jeongguk’s name. With sleepy thoughts and heavy eyelids, you simply let the night cut into the day.

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting a beam across the thin film of your eyes. You’ve been awake for the last hour, keeping yourself occupied by counting the beauty marks that scatter across Taehyung’s face. You’ve done it a million times before. You could probably point them out in the dark, completely blind.

“Creep,” he mutters under his breath when he catches you staring.

A chuckle vibrates through your chest as you playfully push his shoulders. He rolls onto his side, facing the wall, but you cage him in your arms, wrapping them around his waist, molding your body to his. Your laugh tickles the nape of his neck.

Taehyung tries his best to ignore the lingering scent of your perfume on his bed sheets. He doesn’t want to acknowledge the right side of his bed where there’s a dip in the mattress ー the same shape as you.

He won’t even bring up your awful bedhead because he thinks it’s funny. He likes how he’s the only one who gets to see you like this. You’re at your prettiest when you’re beneath him, but also beside him.

Yet if he were to speak of this out loud, it would mean that all of this is his ー that he has something worth losing.

“How about I make some pancakes?” You offer, wiping the exhaustion from your eyes with the back of your hand.

Taehyung shifts in your embrace. He strains his neck to gauge your expression. “Pancakes?”

“Yeah, you got any strawberries?” They’re his favorite. He may have mentioned it once or twice in passing between soft kisses and sleepy yawns. Something about it being a reminder of his grandfather’s farm in Daegu. “Thought I saw some in the fridge the other day.”

“Don’t you have class soon?” Taehyung wonders out loud. He already knows the answer. He has your schedule memorized. How could he not?

“I could be late,” you shrug. “Remember what I told you about Professor Lee? He’s boring anyways.”

On any other day, Taehyung would have said yes without a second thought. But the fact that you’re willing to skip class doesn’t sit right with him. Suffering through medical philosophy 301 might not be that important to you, but… would you honestly prefer to spend your time making strawberry pancakes?

Taehyung clears his throat. “Before I say yes, can I ask you something?”

The air is thick.

There’s hesitation in your response, but you nod nevertheless. “What is it?”

“Are these just pancakes, or… is it something else?”

You part your lips, ready to respond, but the words are stuck in your throat. The answer should have been “just pancakes,” yet you’re certain that it’s more than that.

Perhaps it’s the casual intimacy or the domesticity. Maybe it’s an extra 30 minutes spent with the guy you’re half in love with. Is that too much? Are you too much?

“It’s whatever you want it to be.” You decide to play it safe as if you don’t want to die on the inside. As if his answer won’t have your organs collapsing on itself.

How the hell is Taehyung supposed to tell you that he wants more than just breakfast and half an hour of your time. He wants all of it and more, but it’s selfish to ask for that. You deserve the world, but he can’t give you what you need.

Time and time again, Taehyung has said that this is just casual. No strings attached. But how could he let it get this far?

There’s an adoring look in your eye that triggers his fight or flight response. He’s scared.

“I think… I just want pancakes.” There’s a dull ache in his heart and a voice that’s screaming in the back of his head. “But maybe next time. You should go to class.”

Little do you know, it took a hell of a lot of courage to say anything but “Please have me. Please hold me. I’m sorry.”

You try to push down the sting of his rejection as if it isn’t a reflection of the love that you deserve. “Okay, so I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Taehyung curls onto his side of the bed, retreating into himself. The heat of his body escapes yours. His responses shrink, reduced to nothing but an “I don’t know.”

You contemplate his cold tone and decide not to push any further. Yet you’re certain that you’ll keep yourself awake in the dead of the night by finding meaning in his silence.

For Taehyung, it hurts knowing that he can’t be the man for you. When his efforts fall short of what you deserve, he has a feeling that you’ll slip through his fingers once again. Would that hurt more than pushing you away?

When Taehyung asks you if you need a ride back to your place, a vile feeling bubbles up in the pit of your stomach. You can’t quite explain what it is. Anger? Hatred? Animosity? The truth is, you could never hate Kim Taehyung. Not for all the dreams you’ve shared. Not for all the wasted time. Not for the things he never said.

Taehyung thinks a ride is the best he could do if he can’t offer himself to you. If he can’t be your boyfriend.

You simply decline. “I think I wanna walk,” you mutter. Perhaps a little bit of fresh air is exactly what you need. Some time and space to clear your head and just think.

You hum, flashing him a smile that isn’t much of a smile at all. It doesn’t sit right on your face, Taehyung thinks. It doesn’t reach your eyes the way he’s accustomed to ー like when you ace your physiology exam, when two bags of chips fall out of the vending machine, or when you wave hello to a stray cat from across the street. Even if Taehyung notices the ill-fitting smile on your face, he doesn’t seem to mention it.

So you slip out the door without another word, falling apart in the usual way.

It’s chilly in the hallway outside of Taehyung’s room. You shiver at the feeling.

From the back of your pocket, you pull out your phone, drafting a text to Taehyung: “It’s cold out. You should wear a jacket.”

You contemplate hitting send, but before you can decide against it, a familiar voice brings you to a halt.

“Hey, Y/N, morning!” The sweet lull of Jeongguk’s voice resonates through your eardrums. He’s always awake early in the morning, but perhaps he never went to bed to begin with.

His hair is messy. Disheveled. He has a crumb of toast that sits pretty on the corner of his lips, and you don’t hesitate to dust it off. He flashes a warm smile at you, thankful for the action.

As he often does, you think that he might offer a ride to prevent the walk of shame. If you ever decline, he’ll just nod his head, shrug on a jacket, and walk by your side to the foot of your apartment building. In spite of Jeongguk’s frat boy status, he may be the only decent member of the fraternity.

But this time, you don’t decline. You tuck your head between your shoulders as you shrug. An “okay” slips from your lips, followed by a “thank you.”

Maybe you could use a friend. Maybe you could have more than that.

There’s a set of keys in one of Jeongguk’s hands and a knit scarf in the other. He wraps it around your neck so that you can brave the cold, fifteen steps to his car at the end of the driveway.

But as he fixes your bedhead, pulling your hair to the side, careful to not get it caught beneath the fabric of his scarf, he chimes with yet another question.

“Are you and Taehyung serious by the way?”

You shake your head no. “No, not at all,” you murmur, sullen.

There’s a hopeful smile that affixes itself onto his lips. “What would you say if I asked you out on a date?”

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