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tonycries · 3 months

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The Call - G.S.

Synopsis. After an explosive fight with your boyfriend, you really should feel sorry about being swept up by the blue-eyed stranger at the club - but it’s so hard when he kisses you like that.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader, background Zenin Naoya x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, no curses! AU, Naoya gets cucked, Oggy & The Cockroaches cameo, NSFW, making out, cunnilingus, fingering, doggy, missionary, manhandling kinda, Satoru is taller, mentions of alcohol, pet names (doll, babe), oral sex (male + female receiving), Satoru is down BAD, cheating, I bully Naoya, car sex, overstimulation (male + female), swearing (I’m a pottymouth, sorry), exhibitionism if you squint.

Word count. 6.7k (being stuck on a farm really does that to ya)

A/N. BONJOUR BABYGIRLS, FIRST POST KINDA NERVOUS?? Based on The Call by Backstreet Boys. Art by @_3aem on X.

If you reblog, I’ll literally kiss you on the mouth (with your consent). <3

Cross-posted on AO3

“Listen, baby, I’m sorry.”

He’ll see the marks.

“Jus’ wanna tell ya don’t worry. I will be late, don’t stay up and wait for me.”

He’ll know.

Good.

Long fingers trail higher and higher up your thigh.

Meeting his fiery cerulean gaze, the grip on your phone weakens - only one thought running through your mind right now.

Satoru won’t let you get out of this alive.

Shit. How the hell did you even get here?

Hitting the club on a random Thursday with your friends means you’d geared up for a dead dance floor and some old creeps you’d have to fight off.

Hey, it wasn’t perfect - but at least it would get your mind off of That Bag of Dicks. And the fact that it was your two-year anniversary with him today. AND the fight that led you to furiously text your groupchat demanding a night out.

But, whatever, semantics.

What you certainly did not expect was the crowd to be dancing in an uproar, and one white-haired man to be in the middle of it all. The creeps were still there - as always - but what did it matter when his electric eyes caught yours across the dance floor. Mouth curving up in a teasing grin as he kept gaze locked with yours.

Beautiful.

Wait. Ugh. You really needed to get a hold of yourself.

Ripping your eyes away from this stranger’s, you check your phone - somewhat out of habit.

0 new notifications.

Well. Fuck it, you thought.

Downing your friend’s double shot, you mentally made a note to buy them a drink next time as you plunged into the dense crowd.

Fuck Naoya. Fuck his mind games. Fuck his stuffy, exclusive family dinners.

…

And that uglyass e-boy hairstyle.

Maybe it was the Smirnoff, or maybe it was the music thrumming through your veins - all you knew was that the dancing bodies around you were magnetic, and you hadn’t felt this good in a long time.

Yeah, this is exactly what you needed right now.

You’re moving your hips to the beat in all the ways your boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate. Running your hands over the top that stuck to you like a second skin.

And that was when it happened.

A hand grasps yours in midair.

Ew, what the fuck. You’d barely formed that thought before you’re suddenly spun so that your back is pressed against the front of…a wall? A wall wearing such alluring cologne.

No wait, that’s a person. Holy shit they must be some sort of gym rat.

“Hey, wanna dance on that table?”

You turn your head to snap at whoever this stranger speaking to you from behind is, partially impressed by his sheer audacity.

But whatever curse or shout at the tip of your tongue died down when you saw those eyes from before peering down at you. Except, now that you were closer - almost intimidatingly so - you could truly appreciate what a breathtaking man he was.

Ethereal white hair framing those incredibly blue eyes. And a small dimple at the corner of a grin, which moves as he cocks his head and leans down to repeat, “Wanna dance on that table?”

Dammit, you might have been ogling him for too long.

The table in question was one fringing the dance floor, slightly battered from too much experience with drunk dancing. Yet, it didn’t seem like it would break down anytime soon - and your phone was tragically empty of any concerned calls from your boyfriend so…what’s the worst that could happen?

“...Sure?” You answer, eyes still unmoving from his face.

At most you’d just dance till you forget today.

And before you knew it, both of his hands rested softly on your hips as he carefully steered you through the crowd from behind.

Upon reaching it, his long legs jump onto the table and he holds a hand out towards you - boyish mirth evident on his features and the surrounding crowd cheering in drunken camaraderie. Face slightly burning at the spectacle, you slide your hand once more into his grasp.

It should be illegal to be this good-looking and the life of the party.

This stranger had you belting out the lyrics of songs with almost-reckless abandon, hands ghosting your body as you two moved in sync. An unknown magnetism drawing you to each other like a moth to flame.

You were most definitely the flame, you thought, with the way his intense stare left your skin burning. You felt your heartbeat banging against your ribcage in symphony with the strobe lights above.

He was towering in front of you now. An arm wrapping around your waist, and the other gently pushing away the hair from your face. Close.

“I’m Gojo Satoru. You can jus’ call me Satoru, doll.”

A large hand caressing your cheek now.

“I’m-”

That was when you felt it. The incessant vibration in your skirt pocket that most definitely wasn’t the pounding club music - your phone. And you knew who it was.

Shit, you lost track of everything.

“...taken.”

The smile on Gojo’s face falters for the first time as he makes a noise of confusion.

“I’m taken. Sorry. See you around.”

And with that, you untangle yourself from his arms and make your way back onto the ground, weaving through the crowd that had formed around the table due to your guys’ little show.

What the hell were you even thinking? Just because you were mad at your boyfriend doesn’t mean you don’t have one.

You look back and catch a glimpse of Gojo’s slight pout.

Cute.

But, your buzzing phone served as a reminder - now wasn’t the time to forget yourself. You came here to dance your worries off, not cheat on your damn boyfriend! Maybe you really should check out that couples therapist your aunt recommended…couldn’t be that expensive, could it?

A glance at your phone shows Naoya’s string of texts. A couple cuss words, some accusations thrown here and there - none of them true, yet you felt guilty as you made your way to the bar.

He still didn’t call, but it’s a start, right?

Upon grabbing a seat at the counter, your friends excitedly rush to hear the tea.

“Oh my gosh, WHO was that hottie you were up there on the table with earlier?”, they gasp and crowd around you eagerly.

“Some guy named Gojo, but we just-”

One of your friends interrupts your explanation by tittering, “You know I always told you to leave that asswipe, Naoya. Glad you finally decided to stand up, girl.”

The rest of your group make noises of agreement as you sputter your excuses, “What- NO. I told him I was taken. Either way, I know Naoya’s a dick but I’d never cheat on him!”

You weren’t like that. I mean, he drives you mad but every couple has their moments, right?

“Well, are you sure you told him you’re taken?”

Your friend’s odd question makes you snap out of your little overthinking tirade, enough to turn to what the group was now looking at - or more like who.

Gojo was unmissable.

A cloud-like beauty with locks of white, standing a full head above everyone else. But what jarred you the most was the look in his eyes as they locked upon you, like a man dying of thirst spotting an oasis on his last breath.

Well, shit.

“Not really in the mood to watch you two eye-fuck each other sooo we’ll prolly go dance. We’ll be nearby keeping an eye, though, so remember the signals, yeah?” you hear from your left.

You nod mutely as your friends leave you for a repeat of Heads Will Roll.

“We meet again, Ms. Taken.”

You rip your gaze away from your friends on the dance floor to look up at Gojo. His stupid little joke startles a small laugh out of you.

“Didn’t think you were one for dad jokes, Gojo.” you muse.

“Please, call me Satoru.” he grins as he leans over the counter to order you both a shot of Baileys. “You’re an incredible dancer you know.”

“Says the life of the party?” you laugh, turning in your seat to better face your interesting new friend.

He conducts an exaggerated bow, bragging “What can I say? I’m quite great at everything.”

Ah, the dramatic type.

“Now that just makes you sound sleazy, Satoru.” you tease, gratefully taking the shot from the bartender.

Despite the dim lighting of the club, you could make out the slight darkening of Satoru’s cheeks. But, before you could ponder that any further, he clinks his shot glass against yours and downs the liquor.

Once you follow, he leans in closer to drawl “As sleazy as that boyfriend of yours?”.

Goosebumps rise on your shoulders and you have to hold back a shudder - whether from Satoru’s deep voice in your ear or because of what he just said, you don’t question.

Raising an eyebrow, “What would you know about my boyfriend?”

You watch as Satoru’s eyebrows furrow slightly, a more serious expression taking over his face. “Oh, doll. You do know that your lil’ boyfriend is very popular with the ladies here, right?”

What the fuck? Okay, to be touchy is one thing but outright lying about your boyfriend is another.

You stare at Satoru blankly, unimpressed. Droning monotonously, “Ah, so you’re one of those guys that lie to pick up a girl, huh?” You see his eyes widen by the smallest fraction - clearly not expecting this kind of response. Then he throws his head back and laughs. The nerve.

Between cackles, “I’m not. But your boyfriend sure is.”

And as you open your mouth to retort he plows on, “Nao-something, right? That two-tone-haired gremlin? Bumped into him last time I was here, he showed us a couple pictures of you, bragging about having a hottie waiting for him at home. It was almost heartfelt.”

Satoru fishes his phone out of his pocket and fumbles with it before turning the screen to face you. “That was right before he started making out with some other chick, of course.”

And making out with some other chick he was.

The picture was blurry - seemingly zoomed into the background of a group selfie - but it was undeniably your Naoya, only with the added detail of his tongue down some other girl’s throat.

This FUCKER.

“...when was this?”, the words sounded foreign to your ears, as if spoken by someone else. But you knew from the way Satoru assessed you with slight concern that it was you who asked this.

“...last week.”

Last week? Last week was when your boyfriend(?) was out of town for some alleged family dinner at the Zenin Estate. And the week before that as well. At this point, was any of it real?

“Another dinner, babe? Old man Zenin sure is stepping up with the family bonding.” you chuckle, as Naoya fixes his hair in the mirror.

“Yeah. Won’t be home tonight.”

“Staying at the Estate again? Ugh, well, stay safe. Love you!” you chirp as he flits out the door. Disappointed but, whatever, time to binge-watch those shitty rom-coms he complains about.

The longer you sat on that too-high seat at the bar counter, the longer things began lining up. His short fuse, the incessant texts, and most of all - his paranoia that you were cheating on him with any and every male in the vicinity. It was actually one of the things you’d blown up over before you left for the night.

“What? Naoya, babe, he’s literally my friend’s boyfriend. Why would I ever-”

“Oh yeah? Well I couldn’t tell cuz you’re such a fuckin’ slut. Y’know, going on dates behind my back and all.”

“It was a GROUP HANGOUT, I haven’t seen these people in ages. What the fuck is up with you these days- I literally love you and only you. Look - can’t we just celebrate our anniversary like usual, c’mon…”

“Just fuck off.”

Tears well up in your eyes. How could he do this to you? After two entire years?

You felt so stupid. Your thoughts were running a million miles a minute, and it stopped on one - you were going to get revenge.

Abruptly getting down from your seat, you turn without remembering to say so much as a goodbye to Satoru. Fuming, and mind filled only with thoughts of how you’d burn Naoya’s ugly, overpriced shirts. Or maybe you could even send his unflattering nudes to the Zenin family groupchat - that would give those uptight fossils a real kick.

Your thoughts of enacting revenge are halted only when a large hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you from heading for the club exit. Satoru’s ramblings hit you before you’d even turned to look at him.

“Look- I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. I thought you two had an open relationship or something. Which - looking back - how the fuck would a douche canoe like him have ever convinced you to have an open rela-”

Out of the corner of your eye you spotted your friends worriedly making their way towards the two of you.

You take a quick glance up at Satoru who was still in the middle of mumbling, “-shocked an e-boy bastard like him even pulled you in the first place.”

Fuck it.

Your body moved before your mind. You quickly shot your friends a thumbs up and tight-lipped smile that made them stop in their tracks, still slightly unsure. And with that, you grabbed Satoru and began dragging him to the exit, effectively cutting off his long-winded apology and/ or Naoya diss track.

Eyes firmly facing forward, you miss the mixture of delighted and scandalized expressions on your friends’ faces. The only thing distantly registering in your mind being the cold touch of Satoru’s wrist.

It was quiet outside. Your ears were ringing a bit from the chaos of the club, so you bask slightly in the serenity before Satoru speaks up from beside you, “So…changed your mind, Ms. Taken?”

Oh, right. You took a prize with you - and he didn’t even know your name, yet.

“Ah! Sorry- That was just on impulse, I didn’t mean-”, now it was your turn to ramble apologies for your hasty reaction. Just because you wanted to get back at your boyfriend doesn’t mean you should involve someone else in it!

After apologizing and giving him your name, you look up to see the twinkle in Satoru’s eyes. He seemed…amused?

“I did take you for a bit of a thrill-seeker after the table incident, but damn…”, he chuckles. “Well, now that we’re acquainted with each other, why don’t we give that lil’ boyfriend of yours something to really be mad about?”

His words cause a shiver to run down your spine. What?

He leans in close - so very close - and bats his long lashes, “That is what you dragged me out here for, right?”

Well, maybe you are sort-of the adventurous type. And maybe this is what your freshly heartbroken brain had concocted as revenge for your boyfriend’s betrayal - but wasn’t this too reckless, even for you? With what dignity you have left, you muster, “Once again, I’m so sorry for all of this. Let’s both pretend this never happened, you can head back and I’ll head…home.”

“Where my cheating scumbag boyfriend is” is the part that goes unsaid.

Satoru stays unmoving from his place in your personal space, defiantly staring right into your eyes, “You didn’t answer my question, doll.” he hums.

It might have been the alcohol - or the way his lip curled oh-so-perfectly into a teasing smile - but you find yourself sighing out in defeat. “Fine. Yeah. That is what I brought you out here for but mind you it was impulse and-”

He has the audacity to look absolutely exhilarated at your response, cutting you off to muse “That’s perfect then, isn’t it? You get revenge on that cheating dumbass, and I get to fuck an absolute goddess.”

At your stunned silence, he quirks an eyebrow and continues, “Come on, you really think I didn’t see the way you were eyeing me up before getting on the dance floor?”

“Well, you’re kinda hard to miss.” you defend, face warming. ‘And either way, I’m still in a relationship, we could even try couples therapy…and besides - I don’t even know you.“

Satoru’s grin only seems to grow at each word that spills out of your mouth, he was getting impossibly closer to you. Surprisingly, you didn’t mind it as much as you think you would.

“Why don’t you?” he murmurs, eyes unwavering from your face.

“Huh?”

“Why don’t you get to know me?”

You frown at the question, heart still stinging from the revelation earlier about your boyfriend. “Last time I ‘got to know’ someone it ended up with him cheating on me after two whole years.” you mutter darkly.

The amusement drains from Satoru’s face and his eyebrows furrow as he rasps out “That prick doesn’t deserve you.” His eyes flicker briefly to your lips, he was close enough now that you could slightly smell the liquor from earlier mixed with his expensive cologne.

It was so intoxicating.

Against the rational part of your brain, you feel yourself leaning into his presence. You challenge, “And you do?”

“Absolutely not.”, he breathes out.

And - fuck - then you’re kissing him. Because how could you not? Your lips are drawn to Satoru’s own like two halves of a soul that have connected after eons. Unbearable to part. He breathes you in like you were the only thing tethering him to this world.

A small groan wrecks the back of his throat.

Shit, maybe it was the other way around.

Your mouth parts, letting his tongue slide in. Satoru tasted sweet - like Baileys and every fantasy of a suave Prince Charming ever. You think that maybe you could get drunk off of his lips alone. You distinctly register the strong arm around your waist pulling you to him, sliding your hand up his chest and into those angelic locks.

His mouth curls into a smile against yours. “Having fun, doll?” he chuckles, each word punctuated by small pecks to your lips. He pulls back ever-so-slightly to bite and tease the skin on your neck.

Against your will, a quiet whine rips from your throat. Satoru was everywhere. But it wasn’t enough. You tug at his silky hair.

He seemed to get the memo. Connecting his forehead with yours, Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body before resting it on your ass, squeezing it lightly. “C’mon, use your words.”, he sounds just as breathless as you feel.

Raising your neck a little higher, lips ghosting over his, you whisper, “Satoru…I want to fuck you.”

He huffs out a laugh before murmuring lowly in your ear - words meant for you and only you - “No, doll. I want you to ruin me.”

Your thighs press together, he was going to be the death of you. Satoru catches the small movement and hums thoughtfully, “I got a lil’ place nearby. Wanna go?”

This was stupid. This was reckless. And you were going to do it.

Following your impatient nod, the both of you hurriedly walk the short distance to where Satoru’s car was parked. You share your location with your girls - just in case - before Satoru pushes you against the backseat door of his jet black Hellcat.

Lips connecting once more, he groans out, “Need you here right now.” sounding at his wits end, “Please, doll.”

Before you know it, the door is opened and slammed shut, and you’re sinking into the plush leather seat. Satoru is hovering over you now, dim street light illuminating the lust on his features. You looked into his darkened eyes, now hinging on a black that matched his car. The air was still. Waiting.

Then broken by the cacophony of the theme song to Oggy & The Cockroaches.

Ah, how classy.

Mentally cursing yourself for how out-of-place that joke ringtone was, you pull out your phone as Satoru backs up a bit. Your heart stops at the caller ID - “Naoya <3” - anger and guilt filling you.

“Answer it.”, you hear from above you. Satoru, who had looked at your phone screen while you froze, was now smirking devilishly. He kisses your forehead reassuringly, repeating “Answer it.”

Well…you’ve already come this far…

“Hello?” you stammer out, answering the call.

Your heart clenches as you hear Naoya’s voice demanding to know where you are right now. But his words go in one ear and out the other as you pay more attention to where Satoru held you, letting him do as he pleases while he takes the liberty to trail his hands where your skirt was hiking up. You could feel his thumb rubbing circles into your thighs. Tease.

“Hellooo, can you hear me? Haven’t you had enough of fucking feeling sorry for yourself??” Naoya’s grating voice snapped you out of your reverie.

Right, you still had to deal with that.

“Listen, baby, I’m sorry.”

Satoru’s hot breaths were fanning your hair now. His fingers continue their dance on your thigh. Feathery touch too light for any sort of friction, but just enough to set your skin ablaze.

“Jus’ wanna tell ya don’t worry. I will be late, don’t stay up and wait for me.”

He bends down to kiss the crook of your neck and you feel his smile against your skin. Devilish and dangerous. Angling your head slightly, a jolt of electricity goes through your body as you meet his intense gaze - one that makes you feel vulnerable and exposed, despite being fully clothed.

The grip on your phone weakens - only one thought running through your mind right now.

Satoru won’t let you get out of this alive.

Your heated thoughts are once again interrupted by Naoya’s nagging complaints. Usually, you would have simpered on the line, but right now consoling your boyfriend was the last thing on your mind.

“Say again? You’re dropping out, my battery is low…Jus’ so ya know, we’re going to a place nearby.”

Naoya’s shrieks of profanity are loud enough for Satoru to hear as well. He chokes on a laugh, quickly muffling it in the valley of your chest.

You have to hold back a yelp as his soft hairs tickle your nose. Evidently bored of all your conversation, Satoru’s hand finally slips past your skirt and begins playing with the hem of your lacy panty.

Shit.

“Gotta go-”

And with that, you quickly hang up the phone and let it fall to god-knows-where. Satoru immediately catches your lips again, “Thank fuck, e-boy bastard was about to make me lose my boner.”, he mumbles against them. He presses hot, open-mouthed kisses against your neck and all the way down to your chest. “Keeping me your dirty lil’ secret, huh?”

A mischievous grin makes its way to your face as you hum, “For now. Revenge cheating isn’t as fun when they already know about it.”

You wrap your legs around Satoru’s waist to pull him closer, feeling the outline of his cock. He grinds against you, letting out low, strangled groans at the touch of your clothed core. Both of you knew it - he wanted you so bad.

Satoru’s fingers were now rubbing against your folds through your panty, causing you to moan at the friction. He playfully nipped at your collarbone before looking at you with eyes that look like he wanted to eat you alive.

“Let me taste you.” he breathes out.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Urgently, Satoru wasted no time in helping you sit up against the door, falling onto his knees to come face-to-face with your dripping pussy. He licks a long stripe, hands tightly gripping your ass to hold you in place.

Where Satoru was suave when kissing you, he was absolutely filthy when making out with your cunt. “Mm- Tastes s’good, doll.” he moans against your wet lips. You couldn’t hold back your groans of pleasure, his mouth making your head spin.

Finally, his hands on your ass swiftly remove your flimsy panties - completely soaked with slick and spit. You reach out to take a hold of them, but Satoru redirects your hands onto his hair. “Use me.” he grins. Walls fluttering at how fucked out he sounds already, you almost miss the way he pockets your wet panties.

He dives back into making out with your pussy, Tongue pushing its way through your folds and tasting every inch of you with purpose. His nose keeps rubbing against your clit, and mewls rip from your throat to harmonize with the lewd squelching sounds from below.

Satoru pulls back to admire his work, satisfied at the disappointed gasp coming from you. “Fuck- look at you. So pretty and dripping f’me. Gonna make a mess of my seats, doll?” he rasps out.

“Shut up.” you whine embarrassed, pushing Satoru’s head to where you need him the most. He relishes in the rough treatment, rolling his tongue harshly over and over against your throbbing clit.

“Shit! Satoru!” you yelp in ecstasy as you buck your hips into his face. More.

Satoru now uses two fingers to spread your cunt even more, admiring.

He bullies a long finger into your wet pussy. His ice-cold ring rubbing the base of your folds in stark contrast with the hot vibrations of his moans on your clit. It was all too much. You squeeze around his head - which only seems to spur Satoru on more as he increases his pace.

A second finger slides in, curling in unison to search for that spot inside you which Satoru knew would have your sweet moans singing louder.

Ah, there.

“S’good Satoru. Fuck. Right there, don’ stop.”, you whine as Satoru fervently continues his attack on your cunt.

You call out his name over and over again. Satoru was everywhere. Everything. And he was the only thing on your mind as you cum with a strangled gasp of his name; iron-tight grip on his hair helping you ride it out on his pretty face.

While you descend from the heaven Satoru sent you to, he continues giving kittenish pecks to your pulsing cunt. Experimental licks making your thighs squeeze more around his face. He looked absolutely fucked out, eyes hooded and face flushed a delicate pink.

As the heartbeat ringing in your ears subside, you register that goddamn Oggy & The Cockroaches ringtone in the distance again.

Half-consciously reaching a hand out to feel it for it, you already know who it is before you take a look at the phone screen.

Naoya <3

The exasperation must show on your face, because Satoru reaches out a toned arm and silences your phone before setting it down - all while still nose-deep in your pussy. He pulls away, the absolute mess of spit and slick still connecting him to you and covering his devilish grin. It makes your cunt throb once more.

“Couples therapy is too expensive anyway.”, he rolls his eyes.

You spot the very obvious outline of Satoru’s cock straining against his trousers. He looked painfully hard.

God, you needed him.

Reaching out an unsteady hand, “Let me-” you begin before you were interrupted by his hands tenderly intertwining with yours for the nth time this night. His soft lips press a gentle kiss to them. And despite the lewd acts you two had been doing not even a minute before, this is what makes your cheeks heat up the most.

“I want you so bad, you wouldn’t even believe. But trust me, where we’re going I can have you however I want. Properly.” his words strained, and going straight to your pussy.

And it’s the last thing said before he pulls your skirt back down and opens the door, only carrying you carefully to his passenger seat. “Safety first.” Satoru chirps, as he pulls over your seatbelt before closing the door and making his way to the driver’s seat.

Was he coddling you?

The drive to Satoru’s place is slightly rushed, his impatience showing in the way his fingers drum against the steering wheel.

Fingers that were in you.

Your cheeks burn as you try not to look behind and see the mess that you surely left on his overpriced seats. Whether from the blasting AC or from the prospect of what was about to happen, goosebumps rise on your skin.

They stay prominent as Satoru pulls into the extravagant driveway of the type of apartment complex that you’d sneer at on a normal day.

You feel very out of place at the gaudy entrance without panties under your short skirt.

Satoru hands his keys to the valet before steadily making his way to you, pulling you to him with a strong arm around your waist. “Told ya I got a lil’ place nearby.” he drawls into your ear.

“Nothing too little about this place. Compensating?” you tease, and watch his eyes crinkle as he laughs.

“Well. You’ll find out soon enough.”

The walk to the elevator is rushed, and you two have to fight to keep your hands to yourselves if you didn’t want to permanently scar the sweet old couple riding it alongside you.

Finally. Finally you reach his floor,

Penthouse, you note.

“Couples therapy is expensive” my ass! Does this guy run a drug cartel or what?

Roughly pushing you against his door, Satoru’s lips are once again on yours. He firmly grinds his erection against your core, massaging your ass in the process.

Ah, you don’t think he’s compensating.

A deep moan leaves Satoru as he feels the clenching of your naked cunt against him. You yelp when he moves your legs to wrap around his waist, effectively lifting you off the ground as if you weigh nothing.

One hand steadying you, he quickly punches in the code to his door.

Even as he enters and kicks the door closed, Satoru’s lips don’t leave yours. He blindly turns on a light before pulling back to admire you. You felt like you were losing your sanity, “You’re stupidly good at this, y’know.” you murmur, uncharacteristically somewhat shy.

He chuckles, removing your shoes before setting you down. Yet, your feet touch his cold mahogany floors for only a split second before Satoru has you in a bridal carry. “Save your praises for the bedroom, doll.” he chuckles out.

It’s a short walk to his room - or maybe Satoru was rushing - but his lips are on you as soon as your back hits the soft navy sheets of his king-sized bed. Maybe if you were in a clear state of mind you’d better appreciate the beauty of Satoru’s sleek interior décor. But right now you were only focused on the open-mouthed kisses he was leaving on your covered breasts.

“I have a feeling you’ll like me a lot less if I rip this off.” he tugs on the hem of your shirt with his teeth.

“Duh. And you really talk too much.” you huff out in impatience and quickly discard your top while Satoru pulls off your skirt.

He pecks you, hand reaching behind to unclasp your bra and leave you completely bare to him. “Not fair that I’m the only one naked.” your voice tinged with embarrassment as you start unbuttoning his shirt while he teases and pulls at your hardened nipples. Satoru lets you manhandle him to your liking, and manhandle him you did.

You flip your positions so that you are straddling him, overpriced white button-up now thrown across the room.

Holy shit, he really is a gym rat.

You kiss your way down the white happy trail on his sculpted body, squeezing his pecs and licking long stripes up his prominent abs. “Hah- yes. Please.” Satoru’s moans sound heavily, and it spurs you to make quick work removing his belt. Rivaling your impatience, he hooks a thumb under his trousers and urgently discards it.

Yeah, definitely not compensating.

Satoru is long, and flushed a pretty pink that matches his cheeks. His weeping tip makes the prominent vein along his length glisten in the low light. So perfect.

Mouth salivating, Satoru watches you with predatory eyes as you lean closer and closer. “Bigger than your lil’ boyfriend, huh?” he hums cockily. You roll your eyes and shut him up by spitting right on his flushed head. You kiss it slowly, relishing in the low hiss drawn from him,

“Hngh- F-fuck, doll”. Pumping his base slowly, you take his head into your mouth. Bobbing at a steady rhythm that has Satoru’s eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Fuck. So fuckin’ good. Keep- keep going.” Satoru moans. You hum around him in a way that has his hips bucking into your mouth. You could tell - he wanted to push you down like a fucktoy and chase his high, but right now he was completely under your control.

Nails digging into his toned hips, you take his cock in further. “Yes yes yes yes. Jus’ like that.” he whines, one hand grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and the other gripping onto the bed sheets.

It was messy. Drool pooling at the corner of your mouth, you gag on Satoru’s length as you suck it. Suddenly, his grip on your hair has you pulling off of his cock with a pop.

His hand moves to squish your wet lips together in a pout, “Can’t have me finish before the main course now, can we, doll?” his gravelly voice drawls.

In a split-second, Satoru flips your position to hover over you. His hands groping and admiring every inch of skin he can see. Eventually, his fingers find their way back to your cunt, “Such a pretty pussy. All f’me.” he spreads your lips teasingly before plunging inside - two fingers easily finding the spot from before.

Ever the multitasker, he sucks and teases your nipples, switching between the two to give them equal attention. You writhe, the pleasure from every point becoming too much. “Ah! Hngh- Satoru don’ stop” you moan out.

He adds another finger at a relentless pace, “Satoru! S- Toru! Toru. I’m close.” your words slur together as Satoru’s name falls like a prayer from your mouth. You were still sensitive from before, so it wasn’t long before you were cumming all over Satoru’s fingers with a final mewl.

But you two weren’t done - far from it.

“Need you so bad, Toru.” you breathe out, half-lucidly.

Proud smirk on his face, Satoru quickly fishes out a condom from his bedside drawer. Through the hazy aftermath of your second climax, you hear him mumble sweet reassurances to you as he rolls you over onto your stomach.

A soft caress of his fingers at your pussy and you feel his head rubbing your folds.

Worriedly you breathe out, “Toru- it won’t-”

“Shhh, doll. I’ll make it.”

You whine in both pain and ecstasy as Satoru bullies his thick cock into your cunt. “Oh god. S’tight. So fucking tight.” he gasps out in pleasure, starting to move in shallow thrusts that have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

His large hand pushes down on your back, making you arch into his cock, the other starts incessantly rubs desperate circles on your sensitive clit. A few tears stream down your face from the sheer overstimulation. But it felt good - so good. Your moans grow louder as the pleasure starts overtaking the pain.

“More, Toru.”

“Oh yeah?”

Satoru’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, until he finally buries his cock into you as deep as it could go. Throaty groans spilling out of his mouth, he leans over and bites you at the crook of your neck hard, still slamming into you at an intense tandem. You yelped at both the new angle and the bite which was sure to leave a lasting mark.

Now, Satoru has tolerated many types of people through clubbing, your bastard boyfriend wasn’t any different. It was when he showed a picture of you that things got interesting.

Perfect. So perfect. You’d be better off with someone else than that smug lil’ gremlin. Like him…

And when he saw you tonight dancing like that.

Satoru had to have you.

“Bet he never fucked you like this.” His every word punctuated by a hard thrust. Shit, you didn’t even want to think about him right now. Your walls flutter around Satoru’s thick cock, throaty groans leaving him as his toned arm grabs the headboard for some stability. “Pussy fuckin’ sucking me in just right. Hah- so good.”

Feeling that very familiar coil in your abdomen, you mewl, “Toru- I’m gonna-”, face burying deeper into his luxurious bed.

Suddenly, the friction you crave so badly halts as Satoru pulls out to flip you onto your back with a playful smack to your ass. “Fuck. Wanna look at your beautiful face as you cum.” he mutters into your ear.

Leaning down to tug on your breasts, he looks at you with deceivingly innocent eyes as he keeps up his merciless cadence. Your arms reach around his muscled back to dig your nails into the unblemished skin. It felt so animalistic, the way his heavy balls were slapping your ass, stimulating you just right. Your hips buck up to meet Satoru’s, causing him to let out a strangled moan “Shit, doll. Pussy made jus’ for me. I’m so close.”

“M-me too.” his fingers start their abuse on your clit once more, “Hngh- Toru.” you whimper. Overstimulated and senses filled with only Satoru, you finally cum, riding it out on his deep thrusts.

Tears stream down your face as you come for the 3rd time tonight.

“Fuck- FUCK. Yeah, cum on my cock, doll. Jus’ like that.” he moans out as your pussy clenches down on him, finally tipping over the edge as well.

You feel Satoru cum in hot spurts into the condom, rasping your name over and over as if it was the only word he knew.

He collapses onto you, careful not to crush you with his full bodyweight. As you both come down from your highs, he quickly removes the condom and hugs your sweaty body closer to his. You feel more relaxed than you have in ages. Moves veiled in exhaustion, Satoru nuzzles your hickies as a lover would.

So he was a cuddler.

Giggling at the contrast from before, you lay there in a blissed out silence almost has you falling asleep. You take the moment to appreciate just how pretty Satoru in his post-orgasmic euphoria was. Cloudy locks disheveled, and lips a wet, rosy pink. His cerulean eyes were barely keeping open as he gives innocent pecks to your lips.

The serenity is disrupted by a familiar, unpleasant cacophony of vibrations near the edge of the bed where your phone had been thrown. The fucked out little smile on Satoru’s face grows as he realizes who it is. “Gonna answer the phone, doll?” he rasps out.

You raise a brow, “Why? Wanna give him a show?” you tease, not expecting the hum of agreement from Satoru. “Why not? Show him jus’ how I fuck you right?” he cocks his head, challenging you.

Your knee brushes up against his half-hard cock, causing a drawn-out hiss from him. His hips lightly rutting into you, you watch in satisfaction as tears spring to Satoru’s half-alert eyes. From pleasure or overstimulation? Probably both.

Well, the score was You - 1, Satoru - 3.

Might as well try and catch up.

Round two, you guess.

You snatch your phone before it topples off the now-untucked bedsheets.

Naoya <3 is video calling…

Pinning Satoru down, you scoot down the bed and hand him your phone, which he gratefully takes with a mischievous smile. Positioning yourself in-between his strong legs, you gently kiss his twitching cock, now painted with spit and cum.

The delicate tears in his eyes now track down his flushed face. Satoru lets out a choked out whine, bucking his hips and smearing his cum all over your swollen lips.

And he answers the call.

“Where- WHAT THE FUCK???”

Happy anniversary, you jerk.

A/N. I don’t condone cheating but c’mon it’s Gojo Satoru.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fic #jjk #gojo satoru #tonywrites

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ki-yomii · 1 month

Text

baby, don't go | myg

➥pairing | ex!min yoongi x f!reader, mentioned f!reader x omc ➥word count | 5.1k ➥warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, squirting, hand job, finger fucking, porn w/ plot, angst w/ a happy ending, alcohol, exes to lovers, implied cheating (omc is a fuckboy), implied getting back together (reader & yoongi still low key love each other), idol!yoongi ➥summary | "hii can I request for an exes to lovers trope with yoongi 😭💖 lovee your ficss" you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you. thankfully your ex Yoongi is more than happy to distract you. ➥notes | hope you enjoy this anon 😘💚 omc & ofc are named after characters from one of my favourite k-dramas (personal taste iykyk)

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Standing beside you, your friend Kae-In takes a swig of whatever's in her cup - a sickly sweet concoction of fruity soju and Chilsung, most likely - and coolly surveys the backyard.

Small groups of people dot the manicured lawn, others lounging by the fire as they catch up with one another. It's been far too long since everyone's schedules aligned like this.

Years in fact, and there are several who came in from out of town.

Ordinarily you'd be over the moon, but as it were you can barely drum up enough false excitement for your best friend. Let alone others you haven't seen in forever.

Cocking her hip, Kae-In puckers her mouth. "The alcohol isn't even that good." She sighs, pretty face scrunching in disappointment. "Some party this is turning out to be."

Your hard cider, still more than half-full, hides an awkward, ill-fitting smile.

Having nursed your own drink for the last hour, whatever might've been enjoyable about it is long gone. Any refreshing coolness and bright, punchy taste replaced by amber liquid far past room temperature in your clammy palm.

In fact, the fizzy warmth and tart aftertaste of moldering apples turns your stomach with every half-hearted sip.

"At least there's cute guys here - some of them have really grown up."

Her breath ruffles the fringe of her bangs when she huffs, casting an eye to the glass bottle strangled in your grip.

"Are you sure you don't want something a little stronger?"

You shrug. "Yeah, I'm fine - gotta be the DD just in case, y'know?"

"Girl, you're ALWAYS the DD. C'mon, you gotta live a little sometimes."

The nonchalant scolding stings, even if it's meant almost entirely in jest but it's not Kae-In's fault. She doesn't know. No one does. You couldn't muster up the courage to tell her the truth.

Not yet.

It's still too fresh. The wound too raw to go poking around with clumsy fingers.

"Don't be like that," you say with a faltering smile. "I'm having fun."

LIAR.

In actuality, you're a few frayed threads away from snapping. Stuck clinging to the edge of sanity by the fingernails as you battle back tides of crippling grief and blinding rage.

Have been since the first few messages came rolling in; questions with videos attached. There's a part of you grateful they reached out, while another altogether wishes you hadn't seen.

At least not until morning.

Would one more night spent in ignorant bliss have been too much to ask for?

Now you're riding a corkscrew of emotion, one that roils and chafes as ceaseless images parade past your eyelids with every blink. Each one as crisp and clear as the first time you pressed play.

The swirling lights, the heady thrum of bodies. A darkened corner. Your boyfriend of three years who said he couldn't make it. His hand sneaking beneath the hem of a cheap, glittery skirt. The dip of his head as he tucks into the curve of a neck, mouth open and smiling against bare skin.

You shudder, stomach rebelling. When you swallow, it's like trying to down buckets of sand.

Kae-In, none the wiser, flicks her hair over her shoulder. "Well, that makes one of us. I guess." Shrugging, she turns to you and asks with a furrowed brow, "Are you sure you're okay? You seem... a little off."

Panic grabs you by the throat.

This was supposed to be a night full of fun and laughter. You're not supposed to be suffocating in a crowded backyard. On the brink of tears and trying to act like your life hasn't imploded.

Alone - by your own doing, which is even worse - to deal with the crushing weight of an inevitable breakup. The painful extrication of two lives entwined.

How a relationship three years in the making can be shattered in a minute and forty-five seconds is mind boggling. You had it all, and now...

You thought you were going to marry him.

The whiplash of it all almost makes you laugh but only so you don't break down in great, heaving sobs. A heartbreak you're not sure you'll ever recover from. Not for the loss of him but rather the decimation of your trust.

"I'm okay, promise! No need to worry."

The lie weighs heavy on your tongue. Tastes of ash as the words you really want to say hover in the back of your throat, a breath away. Only they can't make it past your lips, stuck to your teeth like hard candy.

"It's just been one of those days."

Your shoulders shoot towards your ears when she hums in response. Fingernails picking at the corner of the sweating cider label so you don't have to meet Kae-In's piercing gaze. You know she can see right through you, and you hate it.

What started as a fun night of planned mayhem turned into desperate distractions though this party has done very little in terms of brightening your mood.

Instead, watching everyone you know have a good time while you stand on the side lines, a stranger in a sea of people, feels more akin to rubbing salt in an open wound.

Miserable but acting like you’re not; waves of bitter loneliness threatening to pull you under because you don’t want to ruin the night.

“Is this because Chang-ryul couldn’t make it?” Kae-In pats your back sympathetically. “What bullshit excuse did he give you this time? I swear, he always does this. Just wait. I’m gonna hit him next time I see him.”

Oh, you don’t even know, you think. You’ll definitely want to do more than hit him.

Your heart throbs at the sound of his name, and isn’t that funny? Such a simple thing - nothing but syllables and letters strung together - and yet it has the power to unmake you completely.

Your tongue swells as you struggle to swallow. Words burn like bile as you force out a laugh; brittle, scraped up from the depths of your chest

“I’d pay to see that,” you croak. Your knuckles ache from how tightly you’re gripping the bottle. “But - no. C-Chang-ryul has nothing to do with it.”

You hate that you stutter over his name.

And perhaps that’s why you don’t want to tell Kae-In just yet.

She’s always hated him.

Always said he was no good. Just another fuckboy looking for beds to warm and hearts to break. And she’s right.

God, why does she have to be right?

You know she’d never hold it over you, but the thought of admitting it - out loud - makes you want to vomit all over your shoes. You need time to stitch your edges back together. Too raw and ragged.

You only just found out.

Your pride can’t handle any more hits right now.

She thumbs her nose with an inelegant snort. “Whatever you say. I could take him in a fight. That boy ain’t shit.”

Your laugh startles you - the first genuine one of the evening - and you shake your head fondly. A soft smile tugs at your lips.

“Oh, no doubt. But really, I’ve just been in a weird mood.”

The twist of her lips shows she doesn’t believe a word you’re saying, but she’s kind enough not to press. Instead, she spends the next while distracting you with tales of her various escapades of the week.

And it helps for a time, truly.

But then you feel a buzz against your thigh, a ding echoing up from your pocket. Your stomach turns to lead, drops to your feet. Without looking at the screen, you pull the cell out of your pocket with shaky hands and quickly flick the ringer off.

Meanwhile, Kae-In watches silently with sharp eyes, and an even sharper frown though she declines to comment on your behavior.

“Anyway,” she continues once she has your attention, “as I was saying, did you see little Ji-Seok? Dude shot up like a tree! Last time I saw him he was as big as a bean sprout.”

You hum, worlds away.

“You could at least act like you’re paying attention,” she sucks her teeth before a smirk starts to slowly tug at her lips, “How about we talk about something - or someone - I know you’ll be interested in?”

Guilt sparks but slowly gives way to dread. You know that expression. Have gotten into trouble more times than you can count because of it.

Heart tattooing a rhythm against your rib cage, you sputter, “Oh no. No! Do not look at me like that.”

“C’mo-on!” she wheedles. “You’re absolutely right. We should be talking about,” she points at someone across the yard with her cup, “Yoongi instead.”

Currently leaning back against a stone wall making up part of the fence, Yoongi nurses a beer. Sticking out like a sore thumb now that he’s making it big as an idol, no longer as mundane as the rest of them.

Hushed whispers follow his every move, his bleached hair and flashy outfit commanding all sorts of covert attention.

The sharp cut of his shirt flatters his lean frame, the black leather jacket over top emphasizing the width of his shoulders. Dark jeans cling to his legs, as tight as a second skin, and causing your attention to stray where it shouldn’t.

And his eyes - oh, how you ever forgot is beyond you.

Dark, hooded, deep, and hungry; intense as they drag over the planes of your face like the caress of his fingers.

Shit.

You shove Kae-In’s hand down with a loud smack before she makes an even bigger fool out of you in front of another ex.

“What the hell are you doing?” You hiss. “That’s so rude!”

Not to mention embarrassing as fuck.

“Y’know,” she pauses to wiggle her brows and shoot you an impish grin, “I bet Yoongi would be more than happy to remind you of how rude he can be.”

You smother a groan in your hands, heartache temporarily forgotten. “I can’t believe you. Seriously. We’re no longer friends.”

“Bitch, you love me. And anyway, you know what I can’t believe?” She asks. “You!”

She gestures towards him again amid your flailing attempts to stop her. “Look at him. Like goddamn, you had it good.”

You take a sip of cider to give your hands something to do, nearly blanching at the warm liquid. Refusing to respond or look up as the topic of conversation watches like a hawk, gaze heavy.

How can he still make you weak-kneed after all this time?

He wasn’t even touching you and you still feel his presence down to your toes, setting your teeth on edge.

You hear your own heartbeat, your breathing shaky, sparks of awareness dancing along your spine. Heat creeps into the apples of your cheeks.

“Knock it off, I’m serious.”

“No, when are you going to get that Chang-ryul isn’t good for you?”

You swallow roughly, all the moisture leaving your mouth.

“Yoongi was the best boyfriend you ever had and treated you the way you deserve. And you know he’s never been interested in anyone but you. Hell, he’s barely looked away from you since he got here and the break-up was years ago.”

You shift, perspiration breaking out on your brow. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

“When will you give it up?” She blows a raspberry, shaking her head. “I know you regret how it went down between you guys. Now that he’s here - when you finally have a chance to make it right you just - just - ugh!”

Shooting her a weak half-smile and a shrug, you turn your attention to the small glowing fire pit.

Other’s are gathered around it, relishing in the glow of warmth that wars against the balmy summer breeze cutting through the air. Focusing on the dance and flicker of the flames is a needed moment of peace in entropy.

Though you know it isn’t going to last - not with a motormouth for a friend.

“So-o, what are you waiting for?”

“Sorry?”

She nods towards Yoongi subtly.

He’s finally busy with his own conversation, his gummy smile a quick flash of brightness. “When are you going to stick it to Chang-ryul and hop on that dick?”

“Oh my god!”

Kae-In shrugs. “What.”

“Don’t 'what' me. Seriously?”

A bony elbow digs between your ribs. You wheeze.

“C’mon,” she says, “You already know it’s good with him, and you deserve someone who’s there for you 110%. Someone who will treat you right. You know I worry about you.”

A wave of emotions threatens to completely drown you in that moment, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Her tender concern - her care - feels altogether too much and not enough.

As overwhelming as a tsunami; your heart a raw, exposed nerve.

All you’ve ever wanted was to be loved.

To feel like someone’s first and only choice.

You used to think Chang-ryul was someone who could provide that. What a fool you’ve been. Men like him don’t fall in love, they only pretend to.

They sneak inside your heart and take what they want from your bed. To him, you’re nothing but a fun little stop; a footnote, read and forgotten.

Your heart squeezes, shuddering from a pain your palm can’t soothe away.

It’s a terrible idea.

But maybe…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to lick your wounds with someone you know cares about you. Has always cared about you, and probably always will.

Clearing your throat, you consider his profile from beneath your lashes.

Yoongi's always made you feel wanted. Looked after you as though you were something rare and precious.

It’s been a long time since you’ve felt that.

Somehow, some way, he senses you looking because he pauses mid-sentence.

Turns to meet you head-on, tracing your face with what can only be called greed. Stopping short when they catch on the lip trapped between your teeth.

Something akin to hunger cuts across his face.

His brows dip low, a palpable heat flooding the inky depths of his eyes. Shadows deepen the lines of his face, the shifting firelight highlighting the flex of a jawline for days, burning halo gold in his hair.

It’s a look you’re intimately familiar with.

Usually preceding a hand-shaking, mind-numbing fuck session where his cock gets as deep as it can, rutting hard and fast, bringing you over the edge again and again until you’re left a wrecked mess.

Your heart jumps, gallops headlong into a rapid beat.

You feel the rush of blood in your chest, every breath stuttered, stomach lurching. Shaking. Jittery. Tongue tied in a thousand knots and you haven’t even said a word.

It was much easier to pretend you weren’t so magnetically drawn to Yoongi when you weren’t riding the single’s train. When he was away in Seoul chasing after his dreams.

Now that he’s got downtime and your relationship has hit a brick wall? His mere presence sears you to the bone. Drags you in like a black hole.

And that?

So not good.

Swallowing roughly, you tear your attention away. You’d forgotten how intense and blindly bright he can be.

There’s a throb developing in your temple, sharp little darts of pain lancing through your skull. An impending headache if you don’t get some air that doesn’t taste like wood-smoke and cheap alcohol.

“I think I’m gonna head in for a bit. Need to get away.”

You shake your head and toss your bottle into the bin on the way inside, Kae-In shouting her acknowledgement with a thumbs up. Makes you promise to contact her in case of any change in plans.

Nearly everyone’s outside so it should be less crowded, more quiet. Most importantly, away from Yoongi and that penetrating stare which makes you more flustered than you care to admit.

Alas, the kitchen isn’t empty not for long.

You’re lounging against the counter, elbows bent, head rolled back and stinging eyes closed when the back door creaks open. Biting off a groan, you swivel your head to the side.

When you see it’s Yoongi who follows you in, you almost slip and brain yourself on the tile. Mouth dry, palms sweaty, heart beating out of control; scrambling into a more flattering posture while patting down your hair.

He chuckles, his nose scrunched and smile coy.

Seeing him happy always makes you tender, weak.

It seems that hasn’t changed a bit.

No amount of pictures or videos do it justice. Granted, Yoongi looks good any time, any day. But seeing his whole face light up like that in person? Utterly priceless.

It’s a struggle to breathe properly around the lump forming in your throat.

Of course, it has to be him.

Wiping your palms off on your thighs, you greet him with an awkward wave, “Uhhh, hey - hey there, Yoongi.”

Oh my god. Abort mission, I repeat, abort mission.

“Y’know what,” you say, “I was just about to head back outside…”

As you pass by, he catches your arm.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, callouses dragging across your pulse. Your gut clenches, an unexpected bloom of warmth shooting through your core at the sight of his broad palm holding you captive.

His grip is firm but loose enough that you could pull away.

All it serves to do is remind you of nights spent beneath his body, the slide of sweat-slick skin, the taste of him heavy on your tongue, pussy filled to the brim with cock. His rough voice music to your ears, prideful as he gloats about how well you’re taking him.

"Leaving so soon?” He asks silkily.

A hard tug sends you slamming into the wall of his chest.

Air rushes from your lungs, your hands trapped against his collarbones. Firm muscles contract beneath your palms, his body shoving into your touch.

Twisting your fingers in the soft cotton of his shirt, you look at him from beneath your lashes. Your voice whisper soft when you say, “Yoongi…”

His dark eyes, the colour of a rich espresso, track the path of your tongue as you wet your lips. Fingers drag over the soft line of your neck, tracing your fluttering pulse.

Touch feather light as it stops by the corner of your mouth, pressing down on the swell of your lip.

“I haven’t said hello yet.”

Eyes wide, all you do is watch and wait with baited breath. Stunned into silence at his proximity. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close, the smell of his expensive cologne nostalgic.

Your body recognizes his, responding all the same. The connection between you electric, overwhelmingly so.

His head bows, bleached strands brushing your forehead. The tip of his nose rubs yours. You get lost in counting his eyelashes, tracing the bridge of his nose to the carved slope of his cheeks.

Surrounded by him, the urge to resist what’s happening is nearly non-existent. Though you wish it wasn’t so easy to be caught by him.

“One of the guys said something interesting,” he says, his breath ghosting across your face; mint and beer. “It's about you actually.”

He flashes the smile that sends your heart soaring, your stomach flipping.

The slightest peek of a metal chain resting in the crook of his neck, surrounded by a very tempting patch of skin you want to taste, has you a little dumbfounded, absentminded.

“Oh?”

You really hope you don’t sound as frazzled as you feel but the haughty superiority of his slow appraisal of your body, the cocksure smirk on his lips states otherwise.

You really wish you could knock him down a peg but confidence looks amazing on him.

Always has.

“They said you have a boyfriend now. Is that true?”

You manage the slightest shake of your head in the negative - no, not anymore - your heart thundering in your ears.

Your breath catches in anticipation just before Yoongi closes the remaining inches between you with a hum of approval.

His head tilts to the side as he slots your mouths together in a kiss that’s got your toes curling. A filthy wet slide of lips, his the slightest bit chapped, send you under, liquid warmth filling your belly.

You inhale sharply, a moan vibrating against his lips.

Melting into the cage of his arms as his hands clamp down on your hips possessively, tugging you closer. Pressed stem to stern like this there’s no hiding the evidence of his desire.

He’s already half-hard in his jeans, his erection pressing against the zipper.

His eyes are hooded when he pulls away.

“Wanna take this somewhere a little more private, baby?” Yoongi asks, running his nose up the length of your neck and inhaling.

How is this my life, you think, dazed.

His hips grind forward against you so there’s no mistaking what you’re dealing with. “It’ll be just like old times.”

After an awkward fumble and an elbow to the side, you settle on the downstairs bathroom. He follows, quickly pinning you to the door while struggling to toss his leather jacket over the sink.

With a flick of the lock, you’re finally alone without any possible interruption. The door muffles most of the ruckus outside, leaving you hyper aware of every hurried breath, every low-throated murmur.

For a long while it’s nothing but a mess of lips, his body molding to yours. Easy to fall back into the old rhythms of your relationship as though you never left it.

He holds you down.

His fingers in your hair, on your jaw. His tongue gliding over your lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting it slide back out through his teeth.

You meet him kiss for kiss, your hands finding their way into his back pockets, tugging, groping, loving how he bucks up into the cradle of your hips in response.

A sweet ache settles low and deep.

“Yoongi,” you sigh. “Fuck, I forgot how much you like to tease.”

His thumb circles your nipple through your shirt, teasing it into a sensitive, stiff peak that shows through the thin fabric.

The caresses send soft pulses straight to your clit, the intensity getting stronger and stronger the rougher he is.

Before long, you’re aware of how achingly empty you are.

Yoongi nips the corner of your jaw.

“Never forgot how fun teasing you is,” he murmurs into the silk of your skin. “How wet you get for me.”

“Shit, you can’t just say something like that.”

“Can’t I?” His laugh, genuine and vibrant, sounds through his chest and into yours. “You can bitch all you want, but I know you love it.”

A smile, all teeth.

“Isn’t that right, baby?”

You glare at him weakly through half lidded eyes.

Two can play that game.

“Fuck!” Yoongi bites out, those impossibly dark eyes sliding shut when you reach down to palm him through his jeans.

His breath whooshes from him in a loud exhale, his jaw working back and forth. “That’s cheating.”

You smirk, feeling him throb in your hand.

”What were you saying, Yoongs?” Humming, you rub your chest against his, using a fingertip to trace the outline of his shaft. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Spearing you with a weighted look, Yoongi shoves you back into the door harder than before, the wood creaking under the pressure. Fist resting on the frame next to your head, his body cages you in.

Every shuddered inhale has the planes of his firm chest pressing into yours with the expansion of his lungs. His hips buck up into the softness of your palm with a grunt.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, pretty girl,” he cautions.

Competitiveness is a gift and a curse.

Not one to be outdone, you brush away any lingering reservations - which being honest, there weren’t many left. His relieved groan when you tug out his cock reverberates through you.

Shit, that’s so unfair.

Yoongi already sounds wrecked yet you’ve barely touched him. How the fuck are you going to get through this without completely combusting when he actually cums?

Thinking that maybe focusing on what you’re doing will help, you look down.

Big mistake.

Dark designer jeans circle his thighs, low enough for his cock to spring free.

Flushed, curved towards his belly, the head swollen and sticky with pre-cum. The shaft a decent handful that pulses when your palm skims the side.

Feminine appreciation at the sight has velvet heat pooling between your thighs, pussy clenching at the thought of him inside you.

Sex with him was always stupidly good.

All those veiled lyrics about his skill in the bedroom far too accurate for comfort.

Since you broke up, you haven’t been with anyone that comes close to his ability in getting you off.

He’s ruined you.

His face burrows into the crook of your neck with a low groan. His breath puffs across your skin, shivers racing down your spine.

Low voice full of grit, he says, “Shit, baby, that feels…”

Hot palms anchor themselves to your hips.

“Wait a sec,” he says, body twitching with aborted thrusts, strong fingers kneading. “Wanna do you too.”

Heart jumping, you let go of him long enough to yank your shirt over your head and kick off your pants before returning your hand to his cock.

In the meantime, he rucks his shirt up under his armpits. You can’t help but make a noise in the back of your throat as the length of his torso is exposed.

All that soft, smooth skin stretching over his stomach as he flexes. You have to fight down the urge to run your tongue along the outline of his hip.

Mouth slack, Yoongi pushes up the cups of your bra. Watches laser-focused on the bounce of your tits as they drop free, subtly swaying with every jerk of your wrist.

His hips fuck up into the circle of your hand while one of his own inches down to brush the crease of your thigh. Your hips tilt towards his touch, desperate for friction.

“Oh god.” He moans, calloused fingers dipping between your folds. “You’re so wet for me.”

You wiggle, whining against his lips as you meet in a messy kiss. His touch is light, gentle, barely there as he traces the length of your slit.

You’re trembling, skin too tight, body feverish. “Stop teasing, I want you inside me.”

Those seem to be the magic words because Yoongi gives a rumble of approval, using his thumb to spread slick over your swollen clit in tight circles.

Heat coils in your belly, electricity racing down your spine. Your thighs splay as wide as they can, making room for his hand.

His knuckles brush your skin.

Dipping down to your entrance, Yoongi works on spreading you open with shallow thrusts until you take three fingers comfortably.

Your needy sighs and soft moans bounce off the walls.

His low murmurs right in your ear as the pads stroke your walls, his wrist flexing. He’s hitting all the right spots, still remembering how to get you off years after the fact.

You’re quickly turning weak-kneed and wet eyed.

“Fuck, Yoongs, right there,” you keen, baring down on the digits nudging your g-spot, your grip tightening around his shaft.

You grind your palm over the swollen tip, gathering beads of pre-cum.

He hisses, thrusts off beat.

Fingers nudge up suddenly, pressing deep and holding in retaliation. White lightening crackles behind your eyelids, thighs twitching, mouth dropping open.

“Yeah, just like that, pretty girl.”

Your world narrows down to every filthy slide of his cock in your hand, every gush of slick as he stuffs fingers into you over and over again until you’re a writhing mess against the door.

Your nerve endings are alive with pleasure, the stimulation too much and not enough.

“Please, don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, doubling his efforts, wrist working faster.

Dapples of sweat litter his brow, his eyes staring into yours, glazed over and lusting.

Fuck, he’s handsome like this.

It’s a little embarrassing how bad he’s got you but between the blissed-out expression he’s wearing, the weight of him in your hand, and how full you are, you know this orgasm is going to be quick, messy.

The pace of his hips pick up, his breath hitching in his throat, length twitching and thickening in your grip.

He’s getting close, his touch rougher, more force behind the snapping thrusts of his hips, teeth nipping at the side of your neck.

“Come on, baby,” you say, breathless, twisting your hand on the upstroke. He smothers a grunt in your shoulder. “Give it to me.”

It doesn’t take much more to bring him to the edge.

A particular spread of his fingers has you jolting, a sudden, intense spike of pleasure shooting right to your clit.

In turn, you unintentionally massage his cock, knuckles bumping the underside of the swollen head.

He’s a goner.

Cumming with a low, wounded whine and a shuttered thrust, Yoongi smacks the door with his free hand. Thick spurts of jizz make an absolute mess of his stomach and your knuckles.

Sagging forward like a doll with cut strings, all his dead weight bears down on you.

He pants, small tremors wrack his frame. “Baby,” he murmurs, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I missed you s’much.”

“Missed you too,” you reply, using nice, languid strokes to wring the last of his orgasm out of him. “More than I thought I did.”

In lieu of a response, Yoongi wiggles his fingers inside you, rebuilding the rhythm he lost. He flutters them, curls up against your walls, peppering kisses along the length of your jaw with a hum.

Slick drips down his wrist, the sloppy sound of him finger fucking your cunt blending with a surge of desperate moans.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yoongi says against your chin. “So fucking hot, wanna see you cum.”

Your back arches, your fingers digging into the width of his shoulders, head smacking the door with a dull thud.

“Can you do that for me?”

Nodding frantically, you fall apart with a broken gasp. Clamping down so hard he can’t move, the cramps softened by the throbbing heat washing over you. Blood rushes in your ears as your pussy gushes around his fingers.

“Good girl,” he praises, tone heated. “You did so well for me.”

By the time your brain comes back online, you’ve forgotten all about Chang-ryul and the constant vibration of your phone where it’s shoved - forgotten - into your pocket.

The only thing that matters is Yoongi with his tender kisses and greedy hands.

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #min yoongi x reader #yoongi #min yoongi x you #bts min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts fanfic

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chloeangelic · 5 months

Text

the paper salesman

Brother's best friend!Jim Halpert x f!reader Rating: 18+ My masterlist I Max's masterlist

Summary: You spot your childhood crush at a birthday party and end up in his room together.

Warnings: Smut, AU where Pam does not exist, alcohol, oral (f receiving), handjob, semi protected PIV, creampie, squirting.

A/N: Well, well, well, if it isn't me and my froggy friend @macfrog back with another fic. But this time, it's not satire - this one is actually serious, and we are taking full advantage of everyone's teenage crush on season 2 Jim.

Word count: 6k

You pick at the edge of your wine glass, nodding along as the sound of your brother’s girlfriend talking about work turns into a low, buzzing sort of hum, indistinguishable from the other voices in the room. It seems that turning thirty was the catalyzing event for your older brother’s birthday parties to turn from all-nighters at clubs to barbecues at his new house. The attendance changed too — what used to be a crowd of girls in tight, short dresses has been replaced by a landscape of coworkers and childhood friends that he has reconnected with over the past year.

There’s a couple people singing karaoke by the TV across the room, and although neither of them are singing in tune, you cheer them on as you half-heartedly listen to your future sister-in-law’s story. People are scattered around in groups of two, three, or four, chatting amongst themselves against the tapestry of multicolored string lights and framed photos. You can’t imagine your brother had much to do with the interior design choices, and assume Stacie took him to the department store and filled a shopping cart with lights and lamps and frames that would make the living space for two thirty-year-old men a little less bland and sterile.

But still, despite the obvious decorative touch of Mark’s girlfriend around the room – you can’t help but wonder which parts were chosen by his roommate.

Jim Halpert – your brother’s best friend for as long as you can remember. Six-foot-something, polite and awkwardly charming. Lingering on your front steps to walk with Mark to school, backpack slung over one shoulder, or waiting patiently in the kitchen doorway while your brother finishes eating dinner, a basketball sat in the ‘c’ of his elbow. Making a whole lot of nothing conversation with your mom about school, about how his brothers were doing, growing bashful when she’d bring up girlfriends.

He’s five years older than you, but that ten-year-old ghost of yourself would sit twirling the fork in her fingers, mindlessly dragging mashed potato around her plate. Watching the way he’d toss the flicks of fringe from his eyes, cross one foot over the other as he answered every incessant question of your mother’s with the dutiful respect of a well-raised boy. Your crush was obvious back then, easily spotted by her whenever Jim stayed for dinner. You’d look away, bite back your smile and try to stifle your laugh at his jokes, hoping he wouldn’t notice. That little crush stayed with you, despite the boys you went on to date in high school, and the ones you slept with and tried to get serious with in college to no avail. Every time you came back from the holidays, Jim would inevitably show up for dinner one day, and you would revert back to that shy ten-year-old, sitting in the same seats as you did back then.

You watched him become a man in front of your eyes, and by the time you started getting physical with your first boyfriend, little thoughts began to weasel themselves into your mind about Jim. It was entirely inappropriate, and that curiosity should have directed itself exclusively to the boy who had taken you out to the movies, to prom and to homecoming, but you wondered what Jim looked like shirtless, you wondered about his experience, about the size of his cock. One weekend in your freshman year of college, with nothing else to do but to visit your parents, you tagged along with Mark to his basketball game, and sat on the bleachers with your eyes glued to Jim, to the sweat that darkened his jersey and the undeniable bulge in his shorts. He came up to say hi after, his brown hair drenched with sweat as well, looking at you through stunning green eyes as he asked how school was going. You made him laugh with a story about a professor, and the sound of his chuckles echoed in your mind the rest of the night. He had moved out of his parents’ house by then, and started working as a salesman at a paper company in town.

He still works there – as far as you know, at least, based on what he told you the last time you saw him, picking him and Mark up from their high school reunion two years back.

Mark had drank a little too much and had needed Jim’s steady arm around his shoulder to direct him to your car. You swallowed down the butterflies which quickly took flight in your stomach as you watched the two figures stumble towards your Honda, the taller of the two lending you a small smile as he slotted your brother into the front seat. You kept your composure right up until he closed the front door, and then you sped all the way home with your heart racing and your blood pumping.

“Some people are just allergic to receiving help,” Stacie announces, yelling a little over the screeching of the karaoke mics. She’s rambling to one of Mark’s coworkers – Hal? Sal? – about one of her co-workers, some new kid fresh from college who can’t work the printer by himself and refuses to let her show him.

You’re about to get up for a refill when a weight slides onto the couch by your side, nudging you with a sweatered elbow.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he mutters, and when you turn, your breath catches at the sight of those familiar green eyes and flicks of brown hair.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers awkwardly lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear. You feel a heat flush into your cheeks and pray it doesn’t show in an embarrassing dewy glow to Jim. “Cool party. Karaoke’s a nice touch.”

“Eh,” he shrugs, giving you his signature smirk. His voice is so deep, a little husky even, as he sits close, “It’s an easy way to keep the guests entertained without me having to do much of anything, or your brother, for that matter.”

You hum in response, reluctantly annoyed that Mark is already at the front of his mind when he sees you. “Are you still working that paper job?”, you ask, raising an eyebrow and hoping that your nerves don’t come across, that he’ll simply consider you as flirty to everyone if your attempts don’t land.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding, picking at the label of his beer bottle for a moment.

“Salesman of the year?”

“Well,” he chuckles, his head tilting to the side, a little unsure, “Maybe sometimes.” Is he embarrassed? Shy? You watch his eyes as they flicker up and scan the room. “What are you up to these days?”, he asks when his eyes land back on you, flaring open for a split second before they settle on yours.

“You know,” you shrug, eyes looping once around the room, “Working, the usual.” You feel your chest tighten with an urge to come up with something more fucking interesting than work. Your fingers hooked behind your ear again, you sputter, “Got my hair done last week.”

Jim smiles, reassuringly so. “Yeah,” he says, nodding, “I can tell. It looks good. I like the, uh –”, he points a little haphazardly, “The way you styled it. Suits you.”

“Thanks,” your cheeks swell in a genuine smile, averting his gaze as the compliment seeps into your skin. You twirl the stem of your glass in your fingers, and Jim knocks a knuckle against the rim.

“You need a top up?”, he asks, standing up.

“Yeah, actually,” you reply, taking his hand when he offers it and pulling yourself to your feet.

You follow him through to the kitchen, dodging the erratic arm movements of some guy chittering to Mark about stocks, and over to the fridge. You lean your hip against the counter, watching as Jim carefully refills your wine and slides it back across to you.

You take a tentative sip under his watchful gaze, and raise your eyebrows, nodding subtly in approval as you swallow, “This is pretty good. What’s a guy like you doing with decent wine in his fridge?”

He lets out a nervous laugh and looks around, takes a sip of the glass he poured himself. “I actually got it for a, uh- a date, a couple weeks ago,” he doesn’t look at you as he speaks, looking out through the dining room, “She said it was good so I figured I’d get some for tonight.”

Oof. A tinge of jealousy makes your stomach curl, and you take another large sip, forcing it down as you think of what to say. You can still hear the out of tune melodies from the living room, though the silence between you and Jim drowns out the noise. “What did you do?”, you ask, hoping you can mask your jealousy with a sneaky tone.

“Took her to dinner a few times, walked around a bit, came back here and had some wine.”

You want to gag, just a little bit. “And how come she’s not here tonight then?”

“Didn’t really, uh– didn’t really work out, so…”

“So you’re just sitting here day in and day out with her wine in the fridge, waiting for her to come back?”

Jim breathes a laugh, pushing the air from his cheeks, “Alright. Wow. That one stung.”

You giggle, taking a step closer, “I’m just messing with you,” you say into your glass. Each splash of alcohol over your tongue filling you with more courage.

He tilts his head, eyebrows cocked, “Tell me about your love life, then, up on your high horse.”

You stifle another girlish giggle, using it to mask your reaction to the awkward question. Your love life – if you could even call it that – has been even more miserable than Jim’s sounds. Messages left on read, painful first dates with jocks still stuck in their high school eras, with uptight career men who only cared to talk about themselves, or with guys who had weird hobbies and left you to pay the bill for a date they asked you on.

You’ve gotten good at avoiding the topic with your mom, turning it instead into conversation about Mark and Stacie, framing it into a question of, When are they thinking of getting married? Having kids of their own, right, Mom?, but standing in front of the one guy you’ve been shamelessly crushing on since you were ten years old – it becomes a little harder to divert.

“Uh,” you mumble, the rim of your glass balanced on your bottom lip, “I’m – I’m just taking some time to myself right now, you know? Focusing on me.”

He grins, almost gleeful. Electricity pulses through your veins. “Nice save,” he tells you, tipping his glass towards you, “I hear what you’re really saying.”

“Oh?”

“Yep,” he says, matter-of-factly, “You also got dumped at Red Lobster.”

You snort, then apologize, closing your eyes and trying to stifle your grin as you try to collect yourself. “Red lobster,” you clear your throat, “That’s pretty bad. At least it wasn’t Chili’s. And I would know, cause I got dumped at Chili’s.”

The two of you keep it together for a few moments, looking at the floor, until you meet each other’s eyes and burst into laughter, having this absolutely pathetic little thing in common. The sound of his laugh makes your chest flutter, the sight of his smile and his hand running through his hair. He wipes the tears from his eyes as he looks at you, and you bite the tip of your tongue, trying to halt the uncontrollable giggles that make your stomach hurt.

When you’re composed, a couple more swigs of wine down your throat, you settle back against the counter and say, “So. When’s the tour leaving?”

Jim’s eyebrows lift, “The tour?”

You nod, “House tour. Mark hasn’t shown me around yet. The most I’ve seen is your downstairs bathroom.”

He scoffs. Pushes off from the counter, the wine in his glass splashing, “He’s a terrible host. C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

Your heels click along the tile floor as you squeeze between bodies, heading for the hallway where Jim pauses. “Bathroom,” he says, nodding to the door right by the stairs, “But you already knew that.” He steps back against the wall at the first step, holding a hand out to usher you up first. “Ladies first,” he says, smiling genially.

You snort, but waltz by his body, holding onto the handrail as you climb the stairs carefully, the alcohol mixed with your shoe choice making it a dangerous feat. Jim’s close behind, footsteps slowly echoing your own, and you can’t help but think of the tight, short skirt of your dress, the way it hugs your thighs, the placement of his gaze as he wanders up behind you.

Reaching the top of the stairs, you look around at the assortment of doors, waiting for Jim to tell you which room serves as the first stop. You can sense him right behind you, slightly to your side, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him looking down at you, swallowing slowly. “Mark’s room,” he says, nodding to the right and waiting until you look up at him before he takes a step over and opens the door. He lets you peek inside, look around until you nod and step back, before he urges you forward, towards another door.

“Upstairs bathroom,” he remarks, and you give the room a similar examination, noticing the streak-free mirror.

“Looks… clean,” you say, as if there’s anything better to say about a typical bathroom. He gives a muttered thanks in return, then points to the last door.

“And that’s my room.”

“May I?”, you grin, then step fully inside, looking around at his bed, his dresser, and finally, his desk. You sit down in the office chair and give it a test spin, before your attention is caught by the art on the wall. “What’s this?”, you ask, while he steps in as well, hesitating for a second as he looks at the door, opting to leave it open before he comes over and sits down on his bed.

Jim’s head wobbles as he searches for an answer. “It’s – well, it’s – you know. It’s…a print that I…liked.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“Not a clue,” he responds, quick as a bullet. “I saw it at a yard sale – thought it went with the colors of my bedsheets. That’s how interior design works, right?”

You smile, “Sure. You’re no Stacie, but – sure.”

Jim nods. Your eye is drawn to the dip in the bed where he sits, the weight of his wide frame on the mattress. His open thighs, his elbows resting on his knees, wine swirling as he slowly rocks the glass. He slowly lifts it to his lips, taking a sip without breaking your stare.

You cross your legs by instinct. Your skirt rides a little higher. Jim glances down, and then straight back up. You can feel your blood thrumming through every limb, every part of your body sensitized and alight. It doesn’t help any when he stands from the bed and wanders over, towering over you as he looks at something on the desk.

He reaches over your shoulder, and you can smell his cologne on his sweater, sharp and fresh, a hint of something sweeter. He pulls a photo frame from the shelf behind you and turns it around.

“Graduation,” he says, and your eyes are drawn down to the cheesy grins of him and your brother, donned in black mortarboards and sweeping gowns.

You nod, pretending you’re paying attention. But he’s so close that his jeans rub against your bare legs, so close that you’re staring up just to meet his eye. Your palms begin to perspire, his voice turning into a blur as he points to a couple other frames, photos of people you didn’t recognize in places you couldn’t quite place. The rest of your wine is downed in a single sip, the glass carefully placed behind you, on the surface of his desk.

Jim seems to have finished recounting memories to you, but he doesn’t move. Stays stood over you, his own drink forgotten on the floor by his bed. A silence falls between you – but not the thick, awkward kind of silence you’re used to around guys. It’s lighter, it’s breathable. It swirls around your limbs like the fluttering feeling in your belly, wraps tightly around them and pushes you to your feet, the back of Jim’s chair rocking against his desk.

You’re eye-to-eye, your chest pushing gently against his. He glances down to your lips, wet with wine and the dabbing of your tongue, and then back up. He leans in, curving around your shoulders to set the photo frame still in his hand back on the desk. When he straightens up again, your hands find his chest.

You stare at one another, seemingly a thousand words exchanged between your soft, drunken gaze and his – and yet, none of them pass your lips. There’s a weight on your waist – Jim’s hands either side of your body, squeezing the tight fabric of your dress. You tilt your head, moving closer, lips parting. And he leans in.

He kisses you, slow at first. Your hands lift to cup his jaw, steady yourself on the weight of him. All of your past selves begin to bubble to the surface, each one lighting your skin, pulling on every nerve. Jim feels warm, his lips wet and sweet from the alcohol. Your nails sift through his hair, tugging gently as he pushes his tongue deeper into your mouth. He groans lightly, seemingly as hungry for you as you are for him, holding himself back, handling you with a care and gentleness you hope he might set aside. You’ve wanted him for so long and you’ll let him do anything, you want all of him, you want him to ravage you and fuck you until you stumble down the staircase and until you can never look your brother in the eyes.

There’s a smashing sound from downstairs and a squeal, followed by a chorus of disappointment from the other guests. It splits the two of you apart, bumping teeth as your lips disconnect. You’re both panting, hot breath occupying the space between you. You can feel the hardness of his bulge pushing against you, and your arousal building, spreading to the tips of your breasts as your nipples harden. He’s huge, you can already tell, and you swallow around a lump in your throat, trying not to think of how long it’s been since you felt a man inside of you.

Jim smiles, still holding you close to his body. Your hands wrap around his wrists, and you lean into him again to whisper, “I think we should close the door.”

He nods, and steps back to let you by. You close the door slowly, letting it thud into place as quiet as you can, despite the obvious chaos happening downstairs. When you step back towards him, his eyes are on yours, hands reaching out to pull you closer, one around your waist and one around the nape of your neck, letting you melt into his hold while he locks his lips with yours. You hope he can’t feel the rapid beating of your heart or the dampness of your skin, letting your hands fall to the edge of his pants and starting to fumble with the button.

You start to unzip his jeans while he walks you back towards his bed, licking into your mouth and nibbling on your lower lip. You slip a hand down over his clothed cock, carefully palming it and feeling the girth and contours against your skin. He lets out a slight grunt at your touch, moving his hand down to squeeze your ass cheek through your dress, his large hand grabbing your flesh and kneading it with the aggression you’ve been hoping for, just a hint of it coming through in the firmness of his grasp.

He reaches the bed as you draw your hand out of his pants and dip your fingers behind his waistband, feeling the goosebumps spreading across his skin, grabbing hold of the stretchy fabric and lifting it up, over his erection, pulling it down alongside his pants to see his cock hanging free, flushed and wet at the tip. You bite his lip before you pull back to look, and can’t help a whimper escaping your throat as you brush your fingertips along his length. It feels endless, long veins bulging out that you trace with your nails. He's so thick, wide at the root, all the way to the tip. He can't possibly fit inside but you clench at the thought of him trying. Another pearly bead of precome spills out from his slit at your touch, and with his hands still grasping your neck and the meat of your ass, you gently rub the pad of your thumb over this head, feeling the slick slide of his spend beneath your finger, then wrap your hand around him, fingertips not even close to meeting, and stroke him slowly.

Your breaths are shallow, rapid, and when you feel your mouth start to water at the sight of his cock sliding through your hand, Jim pulls you back in to kiss you, grunting and groaning while your hand slides rhythmically up and down, making him throb with arousal. He moves his hips, fucking into your grasp with hushed moans that send your head spinning, your cunt pulsing.

Jim begins to peel the dress from your shoulders, slipping the fabric down until your breasts are exposed, the chilly edge of the air hardening your nipple. He pauses, watches the rhythmic movements of your soft, supple tits as your hand pumps up and down, the rise and fall of your chest with each breath. His fingers dig deep beneath the ruffled fabric, tugging it lower and lower until he’s lifting your hips, disturbing the lace of your panties as he discards the dress to the floor.

You pause as he strips the sweater from his shoulders, tossing it to some corner of the room before he’s back on you, the slick tip of his dick leaving sticky trails on your lower stomach.

“You’re so, so good at that,” he murmurs against your lips, sentence broken in two by another hot, wet kiss. Your eyes roll at the taste of him, the strength of his tongue against yours, the hunger with which he takes your bottom lip between his teeth and sucks, letting it go only to fill your mouth with himself again. You push at the edge of his jeans and boxers, bunching them up in your hands and tugging at them until he takes over, bringing you with him while he takes them off, leaving him bare and you in only your little scrap of fabric you call your panties.

He pulls you in as he sits down on the bed, placing you on his lap, letting you wind your hips, dragging the silky lace of your thong up along his hard length while you lick across his tongue, while you swallow his saliva and feel the ridges of his cock bumping against your clit. At the sound of your whimpers, he picks you up in his arms, lays you down on his bed, and settles between your legs, leaving wet kisses up and down your neck, trailing down to your chest, taking your nipple into his mouth and licking it slowly. Your back arches, the slick of your arousal beginning to seep out into the panties he teases with his fingers, hooking them under the thin straps and slowly pulling at them as his lips trail down between your tits, slowly over your stomach, reaching the very top of your mound before he drags the straps over your thighs to reveal you for him.

You open your legs and Jim presses into the underside of your thighs, pushing them wider. His eyes focus on the sight of you, spread open in front of him, his tongue lifting to run along his lips. You sit up on your elbows, glossy eyes watching as he leans in, a trail of kisses dotted along the seam of your thigh, until his lips are hovering over your throbbing cunt.

“Jim,” you whisper, sifting your fingers through his hair, moving it from his face.

He looks up and you share a glance, a message sent wordlessly from your eyes to his. A smirk pulls across his lips, reading your mind instantly. He lowers his jaw and his tongue drags a long, soaking stripe up your slit.

Your grip tightens in his hair, head thrown back to the blue sheets. Your throat catches a lewd moan before it has a chance to cut through the air, exposing you both to the guests downstairs. Sorry, you whisper, but he shakes his head. “You don't have to be quiet,” he reassures, leaving his gaze on you as he leans back and gives your clit a few wet licks, kicking up your sensitivity and making you clench. He must be able to tell, because just as you tilt your head back into the pillow while he kisses and licks at the part of you most sensitive and needy for his attention, he pushes two fingers into your pussy, stretching you gently as he curls them. He presses into a spot so tender you can't catch the moans spilling out between your lips, begging for more when you're already so close, having fantasized about this for years – his tongue on your clit and his fingers inside of you, softening you for the inevitable stretch of his cock, so much thicker and longer than you could imagine, big and hard and bound to let you feel him tomorrow.

He begins to suckle, swirling his tongue until you grip his hair and moan that you're close, so close, and he releases you from his mouth, still sliding his fingers slowly in and out, moving to place kisses to the inside of your thigh. You let out a huff, and hear a faint chuckle from between your legs, licking and kissing at your skin, right beside your outer folds, close to where you need him.

Another wave of arousal crashes through you when he makes contact with your clit again, a wet drag of his tongue making you whimper and pull at his hair harder, trying to keep him right where he is until he lets you come. Jim pulls around your clit, lips sucking and tongue flicking as his fingers pump in and out, winding your orgasm like the tide withdrawing, only to let it crash forward in a flood of pleasure.

Your back arches, breath freezes to nothing in your throat until your climax passes, washing over you in heavy, shuddering ripples. You pant, your chest heaving as you look down at the smile on his face, the evidence of your satisfaction glistening on his lips.

Jim pushes himself up from the mattress, knees planting firm between your open legs, fisting his cock over you. You blink the room back into focus slowly, feeling the bed dip by your ear. He settles on top of you, looking down to guide his cock to your needy and spent sex. His tip presses against your hole, sensitive and soaking, and he glances back up.

“Jim?”, you whisper, chest heaving when you feel the subtle intrusion at your opening.

“Yeah?”

“I want you inside me, I want you to fuck me.”

Mhmm, he teases the tip around your entrance, lets the thick head of him slide up to your clit before he glides back down, gently pushing in, a tiny little bit of pressure, not enough to make you wince but groan instead, hating and loving how he teases you. Another push, his tip lodged inside, stretching you open further than you thought possible, while your pussy drools down his shaft, sucking him in and covering him in your wetness. He grunts quietly, not immune to the wet, warm clutch he’s sinking into, inch by inch, while you wrap your hands around his jaw, looking into his bright green eyes, lids hooded, breaking the eye contact to glance down at where he enters you, letting out a breathy moan when you suck him all the way in and he reaches your cervix. He hisses when he retracts, gliding out so slowly, covered in your shiny slick.

You arch your back when he reaches the end of you again, leaning down onto his elbows so his lips can press into your neck, kissing you like he has all the time in the world, little licks to your skin while he glides out and presses back into you, letting you adjust to his size, making space for himself and soothing you as you’re overwhelmed by him. Your legs come to wrap around his waist, tilting your hips slightly upward to let him reach deeper, moaning his name and incoherent curses, grabbing the back of his neck and his broad shoulders, feeling your clit rub against his pelvis, bringing you closer so slowly you barely notice it happening.

You lower your arms, slipping your hands under his and lacing your fingers. Your knees bend, resting against his ribcage. With each brush of his hair against your clit, he moves faster, thrusting harder, pushing deeper. Tiny yelps leave your mouth the more he fucks you, the more the bed rocks, the headboard knocking against the wall. Your head turns, moaning delicately into his ear as he sucks on your skin.

“I know,” he whispers against your pulse, “You feel so good, sweetheart. So tight around me.”

“Jim,” you’re whining, gasping for air each time he pushes all the way in. You let go of your grip on him and drape your arms over his shoulders, fingers toying with his hair, slowly dampening with sweat. Each glide of his cock inside you ends with a sweet bite of pain, his tip hammering roughly into the edge of your cunt.

His teeth graze the sensitive skin below your jaw, leaving behind marks you’re silently hoping will still be visible in the morning. His hands travel downward, taking hold of your waist and lifting you up to his body like you weigh nothing at all.

“Here,” he says, slipping out of you, thick white thread dribbling between your pussy and his cock. He motions for you to sit up, beckoning you with a flick of his fingers. “Come here, put your feet on my calves.” You oblige, planting each foot behind his thighs as he kneels. “Now lay down, just relax,” he coos, wrapping both hands around your waist to pull you up into a bridge, letting you dip your shoulder blades onto the sheets. He lifts one hand away from your side and guides his cock back into you, giving a few slow strokes with his palm, pushing gently on your stomach.

Then his hands grip your hips tightly, he pulls you back onto him and gives you a moment to stabilize before he fucks into you even deeper than before. Your tits slide up and down your chest with every single one of this deep thrusts, and you watch his eyes as they stay glued to your body, his mouth hanging open, panting, grunting, digging his fingers into your flesh, trying to hold back while you squirm and writhe, moaning and whimpering, not giving a fuck who might hear it, trying to keep his name out of your mouth in case someone needs to use the bathroom next door.

He pounds into you, hitting the softest, most tender spot inside of your body, your head rolls back on his pillow, tiptoeing the line between pain and pleasure, feeling him in your stomach. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come, fuck, fuck,” the words are forced out of you just as a warm stream of liquid squirts out of you, drenching his groin and making him groan. Your orgasm is so intense you nearly howl, feeling more and more of your arousal dripping down his shaft and spurting onto his pelvis, soaking the sheets beneath you, getting wet and sticky with your come and his sweat, watching his hair stick to his forehead while he continues to fuck you, needing every last drop of your climax.

You’re fucking spent, but he won’t relent quite yet, flipping you over and onto all fours, yanking you back by your hips. He enters you from behind and you groan in satisfaction, needing him right there, just like that, feeling your eyes roll to the back of your head. His hand twists in your hair, wrapping it around his palm and tugging at it while he grunts, rough and loud in your ear, nearly drowned out by the lewd smacking of your ass against his hips.

Your hand dips between your legs, fingers rubbing messy circles around your swollen clit, thinking how many times you’ve dreamt of this exact scenario with your fingers buried inside, bringing yourself to the brink of orgasm by the mere thought of Jim. And now, feeling him, the tug on your hair, the ache between your legs, the hoarse cries jumping from your throat.

“Not gonna last much longer,” Jim grunts, wet slaps cutting between his words, “Fuck, sweetheart, that feel good?”

“Yes, Jim,” you whine, your hand jerking with each meeting of his hips on your ass. Come dribbles down the seam of your thigh as you feel your second high begin to wind, white heat flooding downwards. “So – fucking – good. Ah, I want you to come inside me.”

“You sure?”, he pants, holding on by a thread.

“Yeah, I – I’m on the pill.”

Jim pulls you upright by the hair, flush against his stomach, and places his hand over yours to rub your clit together. You lean your head back against his shoulder, body freezing as you come for him again. He groans when you pinch around him, movements becoming sloppy.

“Oh – oh, fuck, I’m – I’m coming, I’m coming,” he moans, lips pushing hard into your neck as he twitches and then stills, and you feel the warm spurts of his come deep inside. The two of you groan, strangled and drawn out, collapsing on the bed with his arms around you and his cock softening inside. You listen to the sounds of the party downstairs, the two of you trying to catch your breaths, and he kisses along the back of your shoulder, brushing his thumb back and forth where it rests over your waist.

“What are we gonna tell Mark?”, he asks.

You pause for a beat, then turn your head to him, “We’re telling Mark?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’ve wanted it, I’ve wanted it. I don’t want this to be a one time thing, I want it to be more than that, so at some point–”.

“More than what?”, you respond, your heartbeat returning to its heightened state earlier in the night.

“More than just sex.”

“Oh.”

“I’m really into you,” he whispers, “I didn’t know if you felt the same way about me but it seems like you do, so–”.

You shift around to face him, push his sweat damp locks away from his face and look into his eyes. Shy heat floods your face as you smile at him and nod carefully, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You wanna go back downstairs?” he asks, fingertips ghosting down your spine before he reaches your thigh and hooks your knee over his leg, “We have Islands in the Stream on the karaoke machine, I know you like that song.”

“Sure… In a bit.”

#jim halpert x reader #jim halpert imagine #jim halpert fic #jim halpert fanfic #the office fanfiction #jim halpert

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house-of-lovin · 1 year

Text

cuddle bug

Wednesday Addams x F!Reader

masterlist

Summary: Wednesday seems to have caught a certain bug today, but of course, her stubborn ways would never let her say it out loud. It's up to you to decipher her enigmatic signals.

Warnings: swearing, mentions of violence

Note: soft and stubborn wednesday? hell ya! 🥹 (this is kinda unserious lol)

Word Count: 2.4k+

Wednesday was disgruntled today.

More so than usual, but alas, she felt it as she tapped her boot on Nevermore’s hallways. She was waiting for your class to finish so she can drag you to lunch. Like she always does. The cafeteria would no doubt fill up with her irksome classmates soon.

Even now, before the bell has rung, some students are already strangling by. When the loud ringing does sound, Wednesday is standing straighter than she already is; posture rigid, eyes trained on every person leaving your class until she could spot you.

“Hey.” You greeted her with that soft smile that always manages to make the Addams girl’s heart dart wildly in her chest, like the hummingbirds she used to lay traps for. And, like the latter mentioned, the hummingbird was as hard to subdue as her heartbeat.

“Hello.” Sweet and short like always.

You glance around making sure the coast is clear before leaning down and pecking her cheek, ignoring the way her head turns for her cheek to readily meet your lips – on command. She savoured how your soft, plump lips connected with her skin, already frowning when she felt you pull away too fast for her liking.

A pair of thumbs gingerly brush her fringe aside, unfurrowing her eyebrows with the pads of your thumbs. “What’s got you looking so grumpy today?” You frown, jutting your lip out excessively as you tease.

“This is my face.” She defends.

You shake your head, disagreeing. “No this is your ‘i’m grumpy about something but i’m not gonna say’ face. There’s a difference.”

Wednesday is pulling back from your touch, walking away fast on her heels. She can hear you laugh but her annoyance overpowered whatever pleasantness the sound usually brings. She felt fingers slot between hers causing the goth’s step to falter, as you entangle them. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” You say, still laughing.

She feels you squeeze her hand when she doesn’t respond.

Wednesday is still walking towards the cafeteria, intent on ignoring you and how well you can read her microexpressions. You tug her aside to a deserted hallway, trapping her against the wall; leaning against her.

The Addams tries her best to put on the most impassive face she can muster as you lean in close, tilting your head to the side. “Wens…” She shivers at the nickname. “What’s wrong?”

“There is nothing wrong. Other than you in the way of satiating my hunger. Now move, so we can join our friends and eat.” She whips back; hating the way her ‘harsh’ words (which have been lacking since you two started dating) makes your features soften even more – as if you were even more enchanted by her, not terrified like it used to make you.

“Okayyy…but don’t say I didn’t ask you.” You squint your eyes at her, leaning down to peck her lips – taking Wednesday by surprise. She doesn’t even have time to relish it because you were pulling her along to the cafeteria.

– –

You feel a tug on your blazer, looking over it would seem like Wednesday was wearing her usual impassive stare, but you’ve watched her a lot way before you even started dating – the gloominess that followed the goth catching your attention at first glance. She was wearing that same frown from before lunch that has you confused.

Raising a brow, you scoot the bench seat closer, leaning into her space. “You alright?” You question, sliding a comforting hand over her fingers tightly gripping the fabric of your Nevermore jacket. Her jaw clenches so firmly you can see the sharp edges of it protruding.

She nods stiffly, choosing to turn her attention back to the teacher at the front of the class.

You shake your head in amusement. Electing to be patient with whatever ruminations your girlfriend had. She would tell you when she was physically incapable of keeping in whatever it is that was bothering her inside. So until then, you would let her sulk and pout – Wednesday Addams style.

“You know, you need to tell me what you want. I can’t read your mind, Wens.” You tease, whispering in her ear, enjoying the way she visibly fought off the shivers from your breath.

“I do not want anything.” She grits through clenched teeth, unable to swallow her pride.

“Okay…I was just saying.” You say in that amused tone, unconvinced. Maybe your goth girl just needed her buttons pressed, just a bit more.

You forcefully bite down on your tongue, preventing a squeal from escaping as she pinches your arm in warning. She sends you a deadly glare; daring you to try her.

The rest of class was spent with your chair pressed against Wednesdays as she keeps a firm hand on your jacket. You tried to pull away to write some notes down but Wednesday tugged on your arm, preventing you from doing so. She even had the audacity to throw in a glare in which you rolled your eyes back in response. Only when the bell rang, signalling the end of the school day did she release her hold on you.

You packed your books slowly, allowing everyone to filter out of the class; Wednesday waited patiently by your side. When it was only you and her left in the room, you linked your pinkies together tugging her out of the class. “Come on grumpy, let’s get out of here.”

She clenched her jaw but gripped your finger achingly soft, refusing to let go as you lead her down the hall. “This is not the way to Ophelia Hall.”

“I know, I left my gym bag in the locker room after fencing practice, I need to go get it.” You replied. The 3-week-old unwashed fencing pants you left in the locker was beginning to form a stench that your teammates are complaining about.

“Fine…” Wednesday reluctantly concedes. You smile at her adoringly, amused that even though she was being a bit of a grump she is still willingly following you.

– –

Wednesday is agitated now.

She stands off to the side, waiting as patiently as she can for you to finish your conversation. This detour was only so you can pick up your dirty clothes, but now it was nearing past ten minutes since you’d engaged in a conversation with your gorgon teammate and the goth was growing increasingly irate.

Her glare sharpens when she sees the gorgon girl spare a glance to Wednesday making you turn as well. You send her a brief, apologetic smile before facing away and continuing the conversation; it made the Addams’ girl jaw clench firmly.

She had half a mind to stomp over there and drag you to Ophelia Hall, where you were meant to be this whole time. Instead, she silently walks over to stand behind you, catching bits of your discussion.

“Yeah, Coach said he’s gonna make practice harder for the semi-finals.”

“That sucks, I’m still sore from earlier today.” She hears you pout, rubbing a soothing hand on your aching shoulder.

“Yeah right, you barely broke a sweat, I would know. I was watching.” The gorgon rolls her eyes, a hint of flirtatiousness evident in her tone and Wednesday was fighting the urge to yank her by the tendrils of her snake-like hair. Instead, she clears her throat loudly – making her presence known.

You turn with a warm smile, “Sorry, Wends. I’m taking too long.”

Looking back at your gorgon teammate, who had the audacity to look peeved at being interrupted, you apologized and excused the two of you. Slinging the gym bag over your shoulder, you link pinkies with Wednesday and tug her out of the gymnasium and to Ophelia Hall. Wednesday doesn’t miss her opportunity to glare at the gorgon, who cowered under her vicious stare; pride swelled in her little black heart.

“Okay, grumps. Seriously, what’s up?” You ask when you get to her dorm, letting your linked fingers drop. She walks ahead of you, ignoring your question – moving around the room to busy herself.

You walk over to Thing, who was silently (not that he can say much) watching you and Wednesday from Enid’s bed. Plopping down with a sigh when you get no answer, you nudge the hand, “What are you reading?”

Thing slides the magazine over for you to see, “‘10 nail trend predictions for the fall that you won’t want to miss.’ Very interesting, Thing. Did you decide on a favourite?”

You can hear your girlfriend’s displeased huffs as she moves around the room; setting up for her daily one-hour writing time. You ignore her, focusing on Thing’s rant about his own fall nail colour predictions.

“Hmm… I think I prefer the sage green, it would look great against your skin.”

“Are you two finished?” Wednesday cuts in.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ Thing signs to you.

“Not sure, she won’t tell me. Does she ever do that to you, Thing?” You ask, ignoring the girl’s vicious glare. If you weren’t pushing buttons before, you definitely were now.

‘All the time.’ He signs making you laugh. You were just glad to have a sympathetic ear…or hand.

“Sometimes I wish my powers extended to reading minds but then that would take away the fun, wouldn’t it?” You asked rhetorically, sparing Wednesday a smug smile.

When you look away you feel a breeze of air fly past your cheek. Turning around with widened eyes, you nearly yelled at seeing the knife impaled to the wall, “did you just throw a knife at me?!”

“I gave you a warning.”

“Are you two finished is hardly a warning.” You scoffed, frowning as you watch Thing scurry out of the room; fear present in the way he crawled. You would laugh if you didn’t currently share his fears.

“What happened to ‘heads up’? Better yet, why don’t we try to keep our girlfriend’s heads connected to their bodies? It would be unfortunate if yours lost hers.” You pout for sympathy, wearily walking over to where she sat by her typewriter. It’s a gamble to try to approach the Addams during her sacred writing time; it was like willingly offering yourself up as dinner to a hungry bear.

You walk in slow, cautious steps, making your presence known to the goth. Only once you were close enough did you place your palms on her shoulders; feeling her tense under the pressure. You squeeze lightly, easing some of the tension in her shoulder blades. You can tell Wednesday secretly enjoys your shoulder rubs by the way she leans into your touch.

“Wednesday,” You say firmly as you press into her shoulder, making her hiss. “What is going on with you?”

“There is nothing going on with me.” She grits, you can feel how hard she’s clenching her teeth just by the way the veins in her neck visibly protrude through her soft, pale skin.

You sigh at her stubbornness, electing to lean down and press a soft kiss on the junction where her neck and shoulders meet. She tilts her head to the side as a reflex; it gets her to drop the repressed tension.

Continuing your pecks, you slowly turn her chair to face you. You see her eyes fluttering open when you disconnect your lips from her neck as if she was suddenly brought back to reality; the impassive gleam in her eyes returning.

“Come on,” You tug her by the hands, walking over to her bed. “You can kill me about missing your writing time, later.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes but allows herself to be tugged along, despising how you already knew what she was going to say.

“Lay down.” You ordered, dropping her hands.

She says nothing, just staring back at you with an upraised brow.

‘Really?’ her fringe-hidden brows are saying. You were fluent in the language of Wednesday Addams’ micro-expressions.

You roll your eyes, kicking your shoes off and hopped into her dark sheets. You wiggle around, smiling cheekily as you got comfortable in the warm covers. How a person who felt like a frozen tundra sleep in a warm oven for a bed, well, it just doesn’t make sense… but you were definitely not complaining.

Patting a hand on your stomach, you say, “come on, lay down on me.”

“I am not a toddler.” She crosses her arms; she tries to avert her gaze from your figure but her flittering glances told you, you had her hooked.

“Wednesday, get in the damn bed,” You raise your tone, smacking a hand on the mattress.

The Addams clenches her jaw, muttering indecipherable threats under her breath, but gets in beside you anyway. “I said, lay down on me…”

You turn to her, raising an expectant brow. The goth draws her eyes to slits, slowly moving her weight to rest on top of your body; gently laying her head under your chin.

“That wasn’t so hard now was it?” You rub patterns on her back, relishing the way she physically melted into you.

She pinches your side for the second time today, making you flinch. “Shut up.”

You chuckle, pecking the top of her head, letting the silence envelop the room. The sounds of Wednesday’s slow breathing and the slight breeze of the late fall afternoon can be heard through the cracked oval window. You can tell she was on the precipice of sleep just by how her grip on your shirt loosened.

Suddenly you’re thinking, laughing to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” She mumbles sleepily into your neck, trying to get comfortable in your hold.

“Is this why you’ve been such a grump all day? You just wanted to cuddle?”

She stays silent but you feel the way she tenses making you laugh.

“I think someone caught the cuddle bug, but just didn’t wanna say…” You tease.

This time the punch in your side has you heaving, coughing out rough breaths. “Ow…okay I deserved that.”

“I will leave this bed and happily continue my writing time if you resume this behaviour.” She warns, but the peril in her eyes was missing making you smile fondly.

“No, no… come back.” you lay back down to get comfortable, wrapping a firm arm around her waist. She settles back into your chest, burying her nose against your collarbone; subtly nuzzling her nose against your warm skin. It felt immaculate against goth’s perpetually cold skin.

“Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” You press a kiss on her forehead.

“It is foolish of you to think that I would care if you left this bed,” she mutters weakly.

“Mhmm,” You hum, laughing. “Goodnight, my love.”

#wednesday addams #wednesday x you #wednesday netflix #wednesday x fem!reader #wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x you

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moonhoures · 7 months

Text

Cowgirl

🕷️ kinktober — day 10: costumes 🕸️

pairing: wooyoung (ateez) + reader (afab)

genre: non-idol!au, smut

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, explicit smut, established relationship, cowboy/cowgirl costumes, lots of lame cowboy-related jokes/comments bc i think i’m funny ig (sorry), protected sex 👍🏻, reverse cowgirl position, ass slapping, reader is half-clothed during sex

word count: ~2.2k

synopsis: you and your boyfriend can’t get enough of each other in your halloween costumes

a/n: the way my ateez bias list is in shambles after writing these kinktober posts….. 😔

posted: october 10, 2023

kinktober masterlist

“________! Are you ready yet?”

Wooyoung’s voice rung out through the house as he looked around the room, trying to recall where he had set down his cowboy hat. While his eyes trailed over the room, the sound of your boots thudding down the stairs caught his attention. He turned to watch your entrance to the living room, and his eyes widened at the sight of you in all your glory. Your body covered in a black, leather cowgirl outfit that matched his own. The matching costumes were his idea, but you were the one that had picked them out. This was the first time seeing you in yours, and it was taking his breath away.

Your breasts were practically spilling out of the top of your tight-fitted, sleeveless vest that showed off your midriff. He was thankful you were wearing a black bra underneath, because the buttons on the vest looked like they were minutes away from popping open—not that he would really complaint about that. Black leather shorts hugged your ass and the tops of your thighs snuggly. Leather boots, with fringe that matched the kind on your vest, reached up just past your knee. A faux lasso was coiled up and attached to the empty belt loop on your hip.

“Close your mouth, babe, you’re gonna catch flies,” you teased your boyfriend, holding out his missing cowboy hat to him while you set your own on top of your head, “And you forgot this upstairs.”

Wooyoung quickly shut his mouth, took the hat from your hand, and set it on his head. The two of you stood in front of the mirror displayed by your front door, making last minute adjustments of your clothes before you planned to leave. You smiled as you admired your good work at finding matching outfits; you had to admit you both looked really good. Wooyoung’s leather pants and matching vest just fit him so well. You couldn’t help but bite your lip at the sight of his ass in the tight pants you got him.

“My eyes are up here, ________.”

Now Wooyoung was the one teasing you, throwing you a wink as he caught your eyes in the mirror. You rolled your eyes playfully, and handed him his keys before nudging him towards the door.

Your mutual friend, Seonghwa, was throwing a costumer party for Halloween that started at 8pm. So naturally you two showed up fifteen minutes late because Wooyoung swore he knew how to get to his house without using the GPS—spoiler alert, he didn’t. But Seonghwa still greeted you both at the door with a big smile and a glass half-full of some kind of liquor nonetheless.

“Woohoo, first couple of the night just got in from the West? I love it,” he gestured to your outfits before embracing you in a quick hug.

“All _______’s idea,” Wooyoung gave you your credit, his hand never leaving your hip as you two walked in and your friend closed the door behind you.

“She does have good fashion sense,” Seonghwa winked in your direction before bringing you to the kitchen where everyone else was indulging in the snacks and drinks while music played from the living room.

For the next few hours, you and your boyfriend socialized with the growing number of party guests, most of whom you already knew. So you had no problem making your way through the house without your boyfriend unlike how you usually would in a party setting. But you two still danced and chatted with your friends for a while before you separated. At one point you got caught up in a card game with Yunho, San, and a handful of other partygoers. Wooyoung was off somewhere talking with Seonghwa and Hongjoong for almost half an hour before he realized how long you had been gone, presumably in the bathroom. After excusing himself, he set off to look for you.

When he found you in the dining room playing cards, he lingered by the doorway, watching you as he took sips of his drink. You looked hot beyond belief. Your sharp eyes watched everyone placing their cards on the tables, the gears in your head turning. Even in the shitty, dim lighting of the dining room, you still glowed. And when the game went your way, you hollered with excitement, leaping from your chair and moving your arm in a lasso movement to play off of your costume. Wooyoung couldn’t help the way he smiled.

You reached across the table, bringing all the chips to your corner with a wide smile on your lips. As the cards got reshuffled and you took another sip from your drink, you made eye contact with your boyfriend across the room. You grinned at him, noticing him taking a seat on the stool near him. While the next game started you could feel Wooyoung’s eyes on you, and it made your face feel hot. But you liked it. You liked the way he watched you play with a concupiscent expression on his face. The way his intense eyes were covered in darkness from the shade of his cowboy hat, which only added to how sexy he already looked. You really had to give yourself a pat on the back for these costumes.

“________,” Yunho nodded in your direction to get your attention back to the game, “Your turn.”

You snapped back to the task at hand, taking your hand of cards and fanning them out in a way only you could see them. The handful of partygoers that lingered around the table watched you and the other players inspect their cards. But Wooyoung’s eyes were on you—only you—and they were practically burning holes through you. You shifted under his gaze, suddenly feeling very antsy and, honestly, extremely horny.

While the next round started, you made the mistake of looking up over your cards at your boyfriend again. He was still sat on his stool, but he was leaning back with one elbow propped against the counter. His other hand was loosely holding the stereotypically big, flashy, silver belt buckle on his pants. The lack of effort he was putting in to look so fucking attractive was majorly doing it for you. In that moment you decided to focus on finishing the game and getting home as soon as possible.

Luckily for you, Wooyoung seemed to be on the same page. You didn’t win that round, but when you met him by the counter, he still praised you for how well you played.

“You know, you are so hot when you’re competitive,” he said, eyes glinting as he leaned his head up to look at you from under the brim of his hat.

“Really? I was gonna say the same about you,” your fingers trailed from his leather-covered knee up to the top of his thigh as you spoke, making his Adam’s apple shift, “I meant, you looked really hot watching me play.”

“Hm, I wonder what two hot people in costumes could do on a night like this,” he sighed dramatically, not missing the way you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“I was thinking we could go home. I could, uh, use a ride,” you arched a brow at him, further enunciating your words as a hint.

“Well duh, we came here together.”

You shook your head softly and tried not to laugh, “No, babe, I’m a cowgirl, remember? I could use a ride.”

This time your fingers reached up to his belt, gripping his buckle and tugging at it softly. Your boyfriend smirked, looking at the way your thighs brushed against his legs. He could already imagine how you would look riding him on the couch—he figured you two wouldn’t make it to the bedroom.

“I’ll go get my keys.”

You pecked a chaste kiss to his lips before zig-zagging through the people in the house to the front door. You did run into Seonghwa on your way out, and you made sure to thank him for inviting you two. He pouted, commenting that it was so early for you to be leaving, but when he saw the look Wooyoung was giving you as he rejoined you by the front door, he instantly understood the situation.

“Alright, go have a good night. Just don’t drive like a maniac!” he called after you before the door closed behind you both.

Wooyoung heeded his friend’s warning, driving safely despite being distracted by your lips on his cheek and neck at red lights. But as soon as he got home and threw the car into park, all bets were off. Seatbelts clicking filled the car as you both leaped out of your seats. Wooyoung was quick to unlock the front door, and he hooked his keys onto the key holder by the light switch. Once the door was closed, he pressed you up against it, giggles erupting between the two of you as you went in for a kiss and your hats bumped into each other.

He took his off, tossing it to the floor before diving back in for the kiss, his lips and tongue clashing with yours. You moaned when you felt his hips grinding up against yours and the chunky buckle of his belt rubbing against your lower stomach. The buttons on your vest popped open one-by-one at the expertise of his fingertips, causing you to gasp in surprise. He smirked at you as you pulled away from the kiss.

“How ‘bout that ride now?”

You nodded, taking his hand in yours to lead him to the bedroom. No couch tonight, I guess, he thought as you passed it up. You flipped on the light switch, illuminating the room while you kicked off your boots and pushed them aside. Your boyfriend followed your lead, took off the rest of his clothes, quickly put on a condom, and then climbed onto his side of the bed. He asked you to leave your top and hat on—“for fun”, he said. Then he licked his lips in anticipation, watching you get on from the opposite side of the bed after removing your leather shorts and panties.

“Hop on,” Wooyoung patted his thigh, eyes raking up and down your figure before you got yourself comfortable on his lap, back turned to him. Oh, reverse cowgirl, he thought. This is gonna be great.

Your knees dug into the mattress at the sides of your boyfriend’s thighs, and you let out a sigh of satisfaction when you felt his waiting cock against your wet folds. You learned forward, putting on a show for Wooyoung, swaying your hips just enough to put your pussy on full display for him. He let out a small groan, and the next thing you knew, his hands were on your ass.

“Like what you see?” you teased him, rocking your hips while he rubbed the plump of your cheeks.

“Love it,” he assured you.

With his hungry, expecting eyes on you, you reached between your thighs and took his erection in your hand. You lined up the head of his cock to your cunt. Blissful breaths fell off of both of your lips as your warmth engulfed him. He was buried deep; you could feel him in places that even your toys couldn’t reach. It was perfect.

You began rocking your hips, up and down and back and forth, building a rhythm. You smiled to yourself as you heard your boyfriend make little noises of pleasure. And if that wasn’t a clue that he was enjoying the view, then it was the way his fingers gripped your ass, pulling your cheeks further apart so he could watch himself disappear between them. He landed one good slap against your flesh, then another and another, encouraging you to go faster. Your hat was starting to slip off from how quickly you were moving, so you reached up to adjust it.

“That’s it, cowgirl, keep going,” you heard him say, and you obliged. You continued to bounce on him, the space between your thighs growing wetter by the minute.

“Fuck- Are you close?” you asked, your orgasm brewing deep in your belly.

“If you keep fucking me like this, I will be- Ah!” he hissed as you clenched on him and seated yourself down completely on him, grinding your hips harder than before. You braced your hands on his knees, leaning forward a little. You arched your back, letting him watch you fuck him in hopes of getting him to cum sooner. Seconds later he was moaning your name and his hands were holding your hips so tightly that you knew there would be marks there in the morning. Man, did you know your boyfriend well, or what?

Your vagina squeezed and clenched around his condom-coated cock while you breathed heavily between moans of his name. Your hips slowly came to a halt, and Wooyoung’s hands finally fell to his sides on the bed.

“Remind me why we haven’t done this before?” he asked, making you laugh.

“Because we haven’t had a reason to wear costumes since we started dating,” you reminded him, peeking at him over your shoulder before you dismounted from his lap. Your knees pressed into the mattress beside him, then you were plopping onto the space there, cuddling against his side.

“Well we should start considering other costumes, y’know, . . . for next year,” he shrugged, head tilting to look at you.

“Next year? Why wait? We can dress up anytime we want to, not just for Halloween,” you winked at him, earning raised eyebrows in response.

“Say less. I’m putting you in the next sexy costume I can get my hands on.”

— taglist #1

@jaylaxies @xiaoting999 @kookthief @zaddywilk @wonrangwoo @pedriswrld @ikykleeknowww @odisdad @abby-grace @jungwonloveer @pinklemonadeflav @celestialplatinum @luvkpopp @nlklstan @kisses4denji @jenos-eye-smiles @a-l-i-y-a @channiesprincess @bekah931215 @heerinnie @fairygirl18 @cinnikoi @im-ur-calico-cat @unlikelysublimekryptonite

#ateez smut #wooyoung smut #atz smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #wooyoung fanfic #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x y/n #jung wooyoung fanfic #jung wooyoung imagine #[🕷️] kinktober 23

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yogrtshake · 16 days

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caught in the rain ( jaemin ) genre : fluff word count : 0.9k summary : your plans with jaemin change due to some gloomy weather

—

“yaaah! go, go, go!”

jaemin’s voice bounces off the brick alley walls as you two try to escape the sudden heavy rainfall, hopping over puddles as if you were avoiding landmines in a battlefield. rain falls from the sky angrily, but you both giggle joyfully, finding your situation reminiscent of a rom-com you once watched. jaemin reaches back for your hand, not daring to leave you behind, and tucks you under the side of his jacket.

you two were off to visit the park and take photos together, but you hadn’t made it very far from home before the sky opened up, dampening your plans — and yourselves, of course.

after finding solace on the porch of your apartment complex, you admire jaemin’s (now drenched) appearance. droplets of water form constellations in the dark fringe that hangs in front of his forehead. you watch as one trails down a strand of his hair, eventually falling onto his nose then pooling in the dip of his cupid’s bow. you think he looks gorgeous, and by the way his eyes take you in adoringly yet speechlessly, you know he feels the same about you.

“rainy day in today then, yeah?” he smiles.

after shuffling off your squeaky shoes at the door, you gravitate toward the space heater, wasting no time to seat yourself in front of it and absorb its warmth. jaemin hangs his coat on a clothing rack to dry before he catches a glance at you, chuckling as he finds your crouched form adorable. he grabs a throw blanket from the couch and stretches it across his arms-width, wrapping you in it from behind and squeezing your shoulders gently in a hug.

“you warm enough, love?” he frowns, concern evident in his tone. you're sure he can feel the slight shiver dancing over your body.

“i’m okay, jaem,” you assure him, leaning back into his embrace. “how are you, though? you took most of the hits from the rain out there.”

“had to keep my angel dry,” he assures with another squeeze around your shoulders. jaemin stands, leaving the blanket draped around your shoulders. he wipes a few stray raindrops off his neck and cheeks and you spot the dark splotches of water that paint his clothing.

it's almost ridiculous how handsome he still looks despite the downpour he was caught in. he shakes his head and combs his fingers through his hair, styling it almost flawlessly, as if the rain was a professional hair gel product.

“i’ll go get us sweatshirts, yeah? then let’s cook something to warm us up," he suggests.

jaemin retreats into his room and reappears with two of his crewnecks. still sitting on the floor, you look up at him with doe eyes. he leans over you and motions for you to raise your arms, cooing at you, then pulls the sweatshirt over your head. jaemin loves to treat you like royalty, performing even the smallest acts of service to make you comfortable. and it makes you melt every time.

once he throws on his own sweatshirt, he takes your hands and lifts you to your feet. together, you pad into the kitchen, splitting apart only to gather the various ingredients and utensils you need to make your favorite stew. you're filling a pot with broth to boil when jaemin snakes his arms around your waist, pressing his body to yours from behind and lightly kissing the sensitive area on your collarbone.

“i’m sorry we didn’t get to go to the park today, baby,” he mumbles into your shoulder. once he notices you’ve set up a cutting board on the counter for him to help dice the vegetables, he detaches himself from you and begins working promptly.

“we can always go another day,” you smile, bumping his hip with yours as you let the sound of chopping fill the space between you.

after a few moments, you notice the sound get significantly quieter. with a quick glance up, you notice jaemin has stopped cutting the vegetables to stare at you. his eyes are wide and the corners of his lips are pulled upwards in an adoring grin.

“jaemin, you’re going to hurt yourself if you aren’t paying attention,” you scold him earnestly, but your cheeks still heat up with his unwavering gaze.

“i’m being careful, i just wanted to look at your face,” he hums. “you look so cute when you’re focused.”

finishing the meal preparation with a blush painting your cheeks, you set the table and light a few candles while jaemin separates the steaming stew into two dishes — he always insists on being the one to plate your meals.

you never notice, but every time he secretly gives you a bit more, always wanting to make sure you’ve eaten enough.

sweet talk and the heavy rain thumping on the windows make up the soundtrack to your dinner. jaemin’s hand rests on your knee while you enjoy your meal together, and you feel so at peace in your kitchen — the warmth radiating between your loving gazes is enough to make you forget about the cold, gloomy weather outside.

#nct dream #jaemin #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct dream imagines #nct dream x reader #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #jaemin imagines #jaemin x reader #jaemin scenarios #jaemin fluff #nct jaemin

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ataraxiaspainting · 3 months

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A Final Wish.

Yan Geto x F Reader x Yan Gojo.

Synopsis: All you want is the best for your daughter.

Warnings: Yandere themes, past kidnapping, mentions of pregnancy/not SFW, takes place a year or so before JJK 0, very, very unhealthy relationships, major power imbalances, child abandonment, and violence.

Continuation of Banquet of Massacre.

Word Count: 1.5k.

*~*~*~*

It is in a wolf’s nature to be gluttonous, but so is that of a dog’s.

Dogs come after wolves in the theory of evolution, and with dogs comes the unselfishness to be one. However, while dogs are not as gluttonous as wolves, they still are, in other ways. They seek constant attention, negative or otherwise, and will always have the personality of a human infant, regardless of how they are brought up by their superiors.

They express their emotions with the limited range of sounds they possess, sometimes timid and shrill, other times rough and menacing. They are dogs, experts in getting what they want in their way. Their primary pursuit is garnering the affection, care, and admiration they are unable to give themselves. Isn't it beautiful, people ask and say and wonder? They depend on those in their vicinity and refuse to release their grip, for if they do, they will stumble and remain fallen.

They do nothing, yet ask for everything, much like the wolves that came before them.

You put in the effort, while they enjoy the benefits that rightfully belong to you, rather than to them. However, you permit this arrangement because they assist you in warding off other threats, coming to your aid when you summon them, and fulfilling other tasks that you are incapable of accomplishing alone.

So, who is the dog, who is the man, and who is the wolf? Is that really up to you to decide, or is that the world’s decision, or is the question at hand supposed to be answered by the one who promised you a new life away from the one you ran away from, Satoru Gojo?

He is the same one that holds your daughter’s hand so gently, while his infinity leads you to not be able to touch him at all.

“I have to take her to kindergarten now, Satoru.”

As you state the task at hand that you must do, if you ever want your daughter to have a good life, Satoru sighs and pushes up his sunglasses. “Rina is a good name for her, I would say.”

“That… isn’t the point.”

“It means joy, doesn’t it?”

Unaware of the situation unfolding, Rina wears a constant smile, her irises almost black and squinting with sheer joy. These eyes, when glanced at by you, inadvertently bring pain, as they vividly resemble Geto’s own.

“It’s her first day, Satoru. Please let me take her, you know she… doesn’t have any friends.”

“She has me!” Satoru bursts with joy, hoisting Rina high above him and twirling her around, their laughter filling the air. You dislike how paternal he acts towards her, yet appreciate it at the same time. Being a mother was never your desire, so maybe Satoru lightens that burden for you, even though his motives are self-serving. He had extended his offer to shelter both of you a few months after your daring escape, while you were cradling baby Rina in your arms, who had just been born in an old, desolate house on the fringes of Tokyo.

You had no desire for her to fall ill, and despite everything, you remained as her mother. You intended to fulfill the role of a good mother, even if it was imposed upon you unintentionally or not by Geto. She is under your care, correct? As her mother, you would go to any lengths to ensure that Geto never discovers her existence. Does she possess the ability to perceive curses? If she does, and Geto were to discover her, she would be confined to a luxurious but restrictive environment. However, if she lacks this ability and he still becomes aware... you are uncertain of the consequences she would face. All you are certain of is that it would be something detrimental, something deeply distressing.

You are both dressed in white fleece, while Satoru wears fully black as he always has. “Let her stay. I’ll hire a tutor for her.”

Can you refuse this? Satoru possesses the demeanor of a loyal canine, whereas Geto embodies the spirit of a cunning wolf. Yet both inflict harm upon you, though in distinct manners. However, they both cause you pain. Don't they both cause you pain? They will forever remain entwined with you and with each other, connected by an unbreakable crimson thread, as they both harm you and strive to control you.

So, just as many, many times before, you bite your tongue and nod. Satoru smiles, then takes Rina back inside, down the hall to the elevators, as you follow them. “Yay, Rina! No school for you!”

“Yay!”

He presses the up button, and you resist the urge to run with Rina in your arms.

*~*~*~*

“She’s my daughter, Satoru.”

“I still don’t know why you decided to keep that brat around.” You never are used to Satoru speaking too coldly, especially when it comes to talking about Rina, but then again it only happens behind closed doors, when Rina has been put to bed for the night and all the lights are turned off aside from the one beside Satoru’s side of the bed. “Sure, she may be your biological daughter, but she is still unwanted, isn’t she? You never wanted to be a mother, so why do you want her to be with you so badly, huh?”

“She can’t survive out there, Satoru. Geto may find her too and… who knows what will happen then?”

“Is that your problem?” He grins, and it makes you almost cry more than this argument you’re having does. “I’ll tell you, it isn’t. She takes up time, money, all sorts of resources, and for what? She does nothing for us, does nothing for you.”

“She’s a child.”

“An unwanted one.”

So, who determines the roles of the dog, the man, and the wolf? Is it your decision, the world's decision, or the responsibility of the one who promised you a fresh start away from your past, Satoru Gojo?

Is your daughter truly a burden? Will she never experience happiness? Will you never find contentment? Will that be due to Rina or because of Satoru?

It is instinctual for a wolf to be voracious, just as it is for a dog.

According to the theory of evolution, dogs follow after wolves, embodying selflessness. However, while dogs may not be as gluttonous as wolves in some aspects, they still possess certain tendencies. They constantly seek attention, whether positive or negative and maintain a childlike personality, regardless of their upbringing by their superiors.

They express their emotions through a limited range of sounds, sometimes timid and high-pitched, other times aggressive and intimidating. They are skilled at manipulating situations to get what they desire, like experts in their own unique way.

Rina's core objective revolves around seeking love, support, and admiration that she cannot provide for herself. It is a captivating notion that often prompts people to ponder and discuss. Rina relies heavily on those around her and is reluctant to let go, fearing that she will falter and stay down. In many ways, she resembles the wolves of old.

The question arises in your mind: is Rina truly a wolf or merely a dog?

Is either answer just as bad as the other?

“Let me put it this way, sweetie.” Satoru leaned in closer then, and you could smell the artificial scent of cherry in his breath. “If she stays… I will make sure Suguru Geto’s offspring never has a good life. Out there, though… Perhaps if she works enough, she’ll deserve happiness. She’s a sinner’s child, a murderer’s child, and therefore doesn’t she deserve a similar fate? If Geto’s plan succeeded, you would be tied down with him forever, you know? If he finds out about her, he will attempt to do so again.”

Your heart sinks so low you could swear it is being dissolved by stomach acid.

“She’ll hurt you more, too, if she stays, you know. Whether Suguru finds her or not. So, what do you say? Your choice.”

Is it though, you want to ask? But you can’t. You don’t want to go back on the streets, hiding at every corner.

So, once again, you bite your tongue, and like a good dog, obey.

*~*~*~*

You don’t remember what you said. You only remember what you did, how Rina reacted.

She was crying. Screaming and begging for you to not leave her, snot and tears running down her face along with the chilly midnight air and the rain. With every step she took, you took three back, and when she touched you you kept pushing her to the wall behind the restaurant complex in the center of Tokyo. Behind the whole ordeal, Satoru’s smirk never faded.

But this was for Rina’s own good, right? Geto won’t find out about her, if you never recognize her as your child, right? She’ll be happier, and you’ll be happier too, right?

Right?

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mirangel · 10 months

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aspectabund.

pairing: sampo x afab!reader

genre: smut

cw: prostitution but not, sampo whimpers, sampo breaks into your house, fingering, usage of pussy and cunt, sampo has dick piercings, marking

word count: 2k

how much would sampo charge for one night? that’s a question you’ve always asked yourself, and one little mishap earns you the dream come true.

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

You can’t help but open your mouth sometimes, for the better or worse. Today seems to be both, when you’re talking with a friend of yours about the wanted criminal list in the newspaper, as always. You two have this fun game, where you try to guess their backstory just by their image alone, it’s just meant to be lighthearted really, just fun and games.

You find the most infamous one on the list, Sampo Koski, a household name for people you should avoid. But you were always a sucker for danger, and so you can’t help but comment, “He looks like he’s into some freaky shit.” Your friend leans in closer, tracing the smug grin he has on his face with their fingernail, and you continue, “I’d pay that man to fuck me senseless.”

They gasp, hitting your arm with mild surprise and playfulness. “You dog! We’re out in public! What if the Silvermane Guards overhear?” You shrug off the teasing remark, winking at them instead. “Let them hear for all I care, I got money, and I want a criminal’s dick. How much do you think he charges?” Your friend elbows you in the stomach with a shriek, unaware of the lurking shadow in the alleyway.

Emerald eyes pierce your form, a sly grin on his features. My, weren’t you interesting! The criminal is all too used to hearing demeaning comments about himself, but to hear those sweet words from someone he’s never met before? It brings a tear to his eye, well, almost, if he wasn’t so distracted by the way you look. This business trip can wait, he thinks. You look like you need a good ol’ friend to pay you a visit after all.

You can’t help but glance at the window every couple of minutes as you get ready for bed. There’s a sense of excitement building up in your veins, nervousness too, but why of all times does it have to appear now? There’s a quick shuffle from somewhere behind you as you bend down to reach for a fallen pen, and you quickly turn around, pen still in hand. Your gaze meets his almost immediately, a man leaning comfortably on your own bed, a smug expression on his face. “Nice ass.” He chuckles, flipping the azure fringe between his eyes.

You quickly stand back up straight covering your ass with your hands, but the damage has been dealt. “This afternoon, you said you’d pay to fuck me, hm?” Sampo tilts his head, but you can’t help but blink nervously at him, opening your mouth before closing it, and opening it once more to question, “How did you get in my house?” He shrugs, the sly smirk you saw on the newspaper returning again. “Don’t worry about that, how about we fuck and figure it out the price along the way? I’m sure we can satisfy each other, trust me on this.” His voice is smooth like silk, and he discards his coat, tossing it to the other side of your room as effortlessly as persuading others to give him extra money.

“Really? You’re… willing to fuck me for cash?” You’re bewildered, your jaw dropping as you can’t help but walk closer to Sampo, who stares back at you with a cat-like grin, slowly blinking as if he had all the time in the world. But the only thing he says is, “Sampo Koski never goes back on his word.” That’s a lie, you can recall at least ten accounts of him conning others in Belobog, but in this current state, do you really care? This is your once in a lifetime opportunity, and you’re damn well going to take it.

You pounce on him almost immediately, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a passionate kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, slotting his leg in between your knees, pushing you to kneel as he sits up. His returned kiss is teasing, egging you on to try to steal more from him, just like he has to several others. Sampo sneaks a calloused hand up your night shirt, ghosting your skin before cupping the back of your head, pulling away just an inch before whispering, “You really know how to make a man wanting, don’t ‘cha?”

But before you could speak, he kissed your lips once more, pushing you down on your mattress, taking the control you once had before. He pushes his tongue past your lips, exploring his newfound territory, looking for the treasure that lies within. He leaves you no room to fight back, pinning your hands above your head with a sly grin. “I’m a greedy man, you know?” Sampo tilts your head upward, exposing more of your neck. “I’ll be sure to indulge, you don’t mind, right?” He begins peppering kisses, humming when he hears the whines you make as a result. “So good for me, so needy.”

“Sampo!…” You sigh, gripping his hair with his hands when his own trails down your body, mapping out every little detail, every curve, and the texture. He grins when he feels your wetness from prodding at your panties, and he shifts them to the side, inserting his middle finger inside. He adores the way you moan so lovingly at the intrusion, “So pretty, can’t believe you wanna pay a man like me to fuck your tight pussy.”

He can’t help but admire how messy you are for him, even with just one finger inserted you’re already coming undone for him, and he smirks, watching as the slick you produce gets all over his hand, your thighs, and he just gets so hard looking at you. “Naughty, so naughty.” Sampo inserts his ring finger inside, and there’s an obscene squelch as he thrusts his fingers inside you, “Do you hear that? Your pretty pussy is making all that noise just for dear ol’ Sampo.” He quietly laughs, taking in how darling you look to him.

Your face contorted with bliss, sweat running down your features, and he especially notices the quiver of your lips as you moan, and he almost jumps when you jolt, but not without a loud moan. “My, so sensitive, huh?” Sampo teases, humming when he drags his fingers down your most sensitive parts inside you, and you shake like a leaf, whining. “Sampo… more please!” You plead, gripping his arm. “Patience, love. Gotta stretch you out, y’know? Wouldn’t wanna get hurt.”

Sampo lowers the hand used to pin your wrists above your head to unbuckle his belt, watching as you gulp nervously at the large bulge shown on his boxers once he drops his pants down to his ankles. “Nervous?” You can’t help but laugh awkwardly, nodding. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit.” His sheer confidence was so unbelievably attractive to you, and with that wink of his? Simply unbearable.

When he lowers his boxers to reveal his true glory, he’s well endowed, and the tip of his cock is a rose pink, with a frenum ladder right underneath the tip of his cock. He removes the fingers he had inserted into you, and you whine when you don’t feel so full anymore. But you weren’t disappointed for long, as he wraps his slick covered hand around his cock, pumping it in display. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, leave it all to Sampo, alright?”

You salivate looking at him, a tinge of crimson on the tip of his ears and under his eyes, he lets out an airy laugh, “My my, you look as if you’re about to devour me.” You can’t help but stammer, struggling to come up with a response to his observations. “…So cute.” He mumbles, lifting your legs to his shoulders, tapping the tip of his cock against your clit, chuckling when he sees your body jolt at his ministrations.

“Hurry up and fuck me already!” You cried out, and Sampo truly can’t help but laugh when he sees your lips form into a pout, and he delicately places the pad of his thumb on your bottom lip, using the side of his index finger to tilt your chin upwards. He slides himself into your tight, yet welcoming cunt, letting you slowly adjust to him. The way his piercings drag across your walls is intoxicating, and you can’t help but plead, begging for more. “Fuck— You’re so tight…” Sampo groans, gripping the sheets besides your head until his knuckles turned white.

He pushed himself further, until both of your pelvises touched, and with that, you both couldn’t help but let out a whine, clinging to each other as if you two were lovers. Sampo slowly begins thrusting, as if he was refraining himself from being rougher with you. He kisses your collarbone, leaving you with far too many love bites for your liking, but you can’t complain, not when the drag of his heavy cock along your insides makes your mind melt, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you find the words to express your desire.

“Sampo…. please fuck me harder…” It comes out barely a whisper, but despite that, he nibbles on your earlobe, speeding his movements, adding more force to his thrusts, hitting deeper inside of you, until he can make you scream his name. He hits your most sensitive spot inside you, and you clench around him, and Sampo throws his head back, whimpering. “D-Don’t do that… so suddenly.” He narrows his eyes, but his signature smirk returns shortly after, thrusting with a desperate need to bring you both to you overstimulation, fucking you as if his life depended on it.

The heavy weight of his balls smacking firm against your ass, the stench of sex and sweat in the air deluding you, making it appear as if it was a dream. His breathtaking kisses drive you insane, and the way he stuffs your pussy full, you couldn’t have wanted anything more. “You don’t mind if I do a little magic on you?” Sampo’s honeyed voice by your ear whispered, a gentle, yet confident chuckle followed shortly. You nod, desperate to reach your orgasm. With that, Sampo flips you onto your stomach, pressing your legs together as he uses his weight to keep you down, letting you bite and drool over your own pillow.

And heavens above, it felt so fucking good. You don’t think you’ve ever come faster than you did with Sampo, forced to mold to his whims as if you were the one being paid to have sex. He tilts your head back by inserting his middle and ring finger into your mouth, watching your eyes roll behind your head as he continues to pound you, watching you taste yourself on his fingers. “So naughty of you!” He sneers, but he then continues, “Ah… I might cum soon if you keep this up… you’re so sexy.” Sampo whispers the last statement, using his free hand to lace between your own hand from behind.

You could barely think with how good it felt as you convulsed around him, yet remained still under his body weight, and Sampo simply chuckles, nibbling and tugging at your earlobe, leaving more hickies and small bruises on your neck like a touch-starved man, all the while using your body as if it was a toy, and you loved every moment of it. “Fuck— Sampo! It feels so good please please please! Please more!”

Sampo buries his head into your neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his breathy whimpers so loud and clear echoing in your head. But he then detaches himself from your body with great reluctance, pulling himself away from your needy cunt, thick strands of his spent decorating your lower back. You can’t see it, but to Sampo, it’s the greatest sight he could lay his eyes on, besides credits of course. “My…” He mutters, spreading his cum over your back with his hand. “You look beautiful like this.”

“…How much do I owe you?” You mumble, barely finding the energy to turn your head to even face him, to look him in the eyes. Perhaps that’s better, because he has a shit eating grin on his face right now, watching his cum spill down your sides as he continues to spread it around. “Well… that was fun for me too. My only payment is that you keep this relationship going with me.”

You nodded, and Sampo lays down next to you, petting your head with the same grin he always sports.

Yeah, keeping this up would be fun for the both of you.

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ starry scribe ✧#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ fading fantasy ✧#sampo x you #sampo smut #sampo x reader #sampo x reader smut #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #hsr x y/n #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr x female reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr sampo

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nightdiary · 1 year

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last night's story (jake) – preview

word count: estimated 15-20k genre: surfer!jake, friends to enemies to lovers, angst, attempt at humor, fluff, eventual smut author's note: the odysseus concept demon got my ass. i cannot get surfer jake out of my mind so this was born .. whew! let me know if you'd like to be added to a tag list for when this is released <3 FULL STORY HAS BEEN POSTED!

summary: lured by the prospect of earning a couple extra bucks for the summer, you head north to man your aunt's surf shop on australia's sunshine coast. it's a visit that reacquaints you with everything you've been running from– old friends, abandoned memories, and one unforgettable jake sim.

“You should come watch me at the state titles next week,” Jake leans over the counter, propping himself up on his elbows and fixing you with an impish look. The movement sends a few droplets from his fringe landing by your hands, and he sheepishly apologizes before reaching out to wipe them away.

Instinctively, you want to reach out and shove his forehead with your fingers, but you have to remind yourself that this isn’t the same Jake you’d grown up with. Whatever you’d once had was left decaying in the past.

“Sure,” you say, ignoring the nagging warmth in your chest. Feigning nonchalance, you busy yourself with tapping on the checkout screen of the iPad, if only to give your hands something to do other than to fidget with your shirt. “Me and how many other chicks?”

Jake laughs good-naturedly, but the momentary lapse of insecurity in his voice isn’t lost on you. You feel guilty for just a moment, but don’t allow yourself to dwell on it. As you finalize his order on the screen, you look up to find Jake already looking back at you, almost expectantly.

“Your total’s $270.59.”

Jake’s face falters the slightest bit, but you don’t think it’s because of the ridiculously high price. “Does that factor in the ‘good friend discount’?”

The phrase makes something sour flood in your mouth, and you resist the urge to scowl. The receipt machine prints out his total, and you rip the paper out with more force than admitted necessarily. You nearly slam it down on the counter in front of Jake, peering up at his shocked face through your lashes. “Yea? What’s my favorite color, Jake?”

Noticeably taken aback, Jake’s confident demeanor slips away as easily as a receding wave. He stutters around his next sentence, and you try not to let your satisfaction show as you open the register. Jake looks down as he counts through the bills in his wallet, pulling out several and passing them timidly across the surface. “Uh–, well, hmm. Something… blue? Wasn’t it blue?”

“I hate blue,” you spit the lie out a bit too quickly, and hope Jake can’t see right through you. You accept the bills you’re handed with pursed lips, slipping them into your register and handing back the few cents you owe him.

“You don’t,” Jake answers immediately, not bothering to reach out and pocket the change. “You love blue. That light seafoam shade you see on the shore. Used to say it reminded you of summer.”

Despite how much you want to disagree, your throat feels all dry and your eyes are stinging and you don’t think you can bear to look at Jake much longer without saying something regretful. But something about letting him think he still knows you makes your fists clench and gut boil.

“People change,” you say with an air of finality. “I changed. You changed.”

Jake takes his bag and steps back from the counter with the expression of a kicked puppy. He looks back at you like he wants to say something, something long left untouched, and you resist the urge to hide behind your counter and stuff your ears with cotton.

You feel naked and vulnerable– like Jake has carefully stripped away every last layer of your defenses and he can see the rotting remains of everything you didn’t say. You hate how he looks at you, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind and the inner monologue you’ve been fighting since you first met him. Like he still knows you in and out, despite moving away and changing every last bit of yourself that reminded you of him.

“Thanks for shopping with us,” the smile you give him is anything but warm, and you shut the register with a bang that echoes around the shop. “Have a good rest of your day, Jake.”

likes and reblogs greatly appreciated ♥

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 3 months

Text

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 85

Part 1 Part 84

“Oh, boy,” Wayne says, and for a second, Will’s ready to, what? Jump in front of Eddie? Shield him with his smaller body? But then he looks at Wayne, and he looks long-suffering, but fond.

Will forces his shoulders to relax. Eddie hasn’t even seemed to notice the fraught moment he’d put them in. He’s just looking up at Steve just like he had in his house in the Upside-Down – like Steve’s an angel. Like, even now, Steve is his salvation.

It's the sort of look that makes you feel like an interloper just by being in the same room as someone making it. And Eddie’s making it in front of his uncle, Will, and Will’s suspiciously quiet Mom.

Eddie’s crying with it, though. Not the big, racking sobs he’d been reduced to before. Just silent tears while he gazes, unblinking, up at a still-blindfolded Steve.

“He’s still in there,” Eddie says.

He is. Will had felt the tug, too. When they’d all talked to Steve like he could hear them, Steve had. He’d felt it come and fade and come again with each of their heartfelt sentences.

“Are you sure?” Mom asks. Her voice is almost startling after so long of her silence. Will looks up, heart lodged in his throat firmly enough to cut off his airway. She doesn’t look disgusted, though. Or mad, or sad, or any of the things her silence could have hidden.

She’s looks a strange mix of heartbroken and hopeful, hand outstretched toward Steve like she wanted to yank him out of his body and free from the shadows it holds.

“He’s in there,” Will replies, meeting her eyes and she looks toward him, eyes shining with enough hope that it aches. He puts his hand over his heart and clutches. “I felt him.”

Mom’s eyes look down, smiling, sad and small down at where his hand clutches at his chest. “Oh,” she breathes out, a sigh of relief as she slumps into herself. “That’s good.”

Silence lulls again. Steve’s in there. That doesn’t tell them how to get him out. They’re running on nothing but hope.

As if sensing their collective indecision, the walkie talkie shoved into Will’s pocket chirps.

“Code red,” Dustin’s voice calls. “I repeat, code red.” Will looks down at the lump the walkie talkie makes in his pocket as Dustin’s voice gets more and more shrill with his unanswered hail. “Does anybody read me?”

Will’s fingers fumble in his pocket before finally pulling it free, hand scraping against dirty jeans on the way out. He compresses the button, more to get Dustin’s frantic voice to stop then because he has anything to say. “I read you,” he replies, voice cracking. “What’s the situation?”

He wants to shake Dustin’s shoulders, shout at him that they’re already in the thick of it. Why is it always code reds atop code reds when things get strange in Hawkins. Next time, they need to spread these things out.

“Demodogs are converging on the lab!” Dustin yells, like he’s trying to talk over something loud that isn’t making it through. “I repeat, Demodogs are converging on the lab!”

“—the hell’s a Demodog?” Wayne mutters, but all Will can think about is the growling they’d heard in the tunnels, and the screams that followed.

He’s seen enough Demogorgon’s that he can already picture one as a dog – short and squat, but with just as many teeth opening up like petals from what should be a snout. He doesn’t ever want to see something like that again.

“Hop’s at the lab,” Mom gasps out. Oh. Will pushes down the pang at having forgotten about him entirely.

While the rest of them floundered around, trading wide-eyed useless looks, Wayne snatched the walkie from Will’s hand and compressed the talk button. “Do not engage. I repeat,” he orders. “There an adult with ya?”

It's not Dustin that answers. It’s not a party member at all. “Do Carol and Barb count?” It’s not until Carol’s sarcastic voice, replies, “excuse me, little miss bitchy?” that he realizes the other girl is Max Hargrove.

What a couple of people to get sucked into all of this. Although Carol’s been loitering at Steve’s fringes for months now, and Max has been rolling her eyes at Lucas and Dustin for weeks.

“That don’t count,” Wayne replies. “Do one of you have a car?”

There’s a long awkward silence, interrupted by Dustin’s tirade coming through halfway through a sentence. “—none of you say ‘over!’ How hard is it to remember? It’s two syllab—”

Barbara cuts him off. “I’ve got mine,” she says, notably not saying ‘over’ before the static of the open connection cuts out.

“Well, get in and haul ass to meet us,” he looks around the van, grimacing as he takes in the state of them all. “There’s safety in numbers.”

It’s a minute until the walkie crackles back to life. It’s Carol’s voice filtering through this time. “Where’re we taking this party?” she asks, the sound of Barbara’s car chugging to life drowning her out halfway through.

Wayne decompresses the button and opens his mouth to speak, before his brow furrows, and he nods his head toward Steve, locking eyes with Eddie.

Eddie nods, their silent conversation inscrutable to Will until he picks up Jonathan’s headphones and puts them over Steve’s ears. He smooths Steve’s hair back from his forehead, fingers trailing tenderly over his ear before they drop away.

Even with the muffling effect of the music and headphones, Wayne shuffles back out of the van, walkie clutched in his hand.

Will can’t hear what he says, which is good, but it still makes his shoulders hunch. He’s so tired of the adults making plans around them as if it’s not all about their own lives.

Mom stays with them - she’s doing that small, pleasant smile she does when she’s stressed, where her eyes are too wide, and her foreheads permanently scrunched.

It’s a short conversation.

Wayne doesn’t look happy when he makes his way back inside the van, stooping his head to be able to fit in. His brow’s even more furrowed than before.

“We’re going to hold off on anything and regroup with the rest of ‘em,” Wayne says.

“What about Hop?” Mom asks. She’s resting on her haunches like she’s ready to spring up and run out and safe Chief Hopper all on her own.

Wayne sighs out a world-weary, “I know, Joyce, but he’s an adult.” His eyes shift around the van, from Will, to Eddie, to Steve. It’s Steve he’s looking at when he says, “The kids need us more right now.”

Will settles in to wait. He’s not sure how a couple high school girls and the rest of the party are going to be able to un-possess Steve when his closest friends and a bunch of lab goons couldn’t. But they’re all out of next steps, and he’s ready to do anything for the chance to get Steve back.

He’d do the same for them.

Part 86

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie upsidedown au #will byers #my fic

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ghostkennedy · 11 months

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Read the camera series, and I had an idea 👀 what about a story where the reader is obsessed with Leon FIRST? Like, she watches him all the time and notices he kind of has an obsessive streak, and she likes him and decides that she wants him obsessed with HER. So she kinda leaves a trail of breadcrumbs to make him start liking her. She's sweet to him, does things for him, and makes notes of his preferences so she can match them perfectly. When he starts stalking her, she's all like "🥰 yay! Bf!"

thank you for your patience with this one <3

Perfect Subject

~Leon Kennedy x gender neutral! Reader~

Word count: 1931

Content warnings: shooting guns in a gun range, obsession, reader is a government agent, stalking, leon goes through your stuff and into your place without permission

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!

Leon Kennedy could never just casually enjoy things. You would never find him just appreciating a thing for what it was and then moving on with his life. Oh no. If he thought a song was good, he would replay the melody over and over again until he didn’t like it anymore. If he liked a movie, instead of him thinking, “wow that was a good movie,” and then watching another, he would replay that movie until he knew every little detail about it.

This included his work as well. Anything he did, it had to be done perfectly. He crossed all his T’s and dotted all his I’s. When you were first hired on as a government agent, he was assigned to overlook your training. There were specific agents assigned to training fresh recruits, so he wasn’t training you directly, but he would always cut in if he felt your trainer was going too easy on you or wasn’t teaching you properly.

One day, you were practicing in the gun range and couldn’t seem to improve your accuracy no matter how much instruction your superior gave you. You huffed and threw your head back in frustration when you failed to hit the designated mark again. You were desperate to succeed and be good at your job. You couldn’t focus on anything else in your life. Everything you did, you had to do it well, otherwise it would eat you up inside.

That’s when you felt a strong form firmly press himself into your back, his arms wrapping around yours and guiding your hands to aim the gun properly. He used his heavy boots to kick your feet out into a better, more grounding stance. He slowly adjusts your shoulders and elbows and forces you to tighten your grip on the weapon. He stepped back from you and you felt stronger and more confident in this new position.

You fired the shot and hit the mark exactly in the center. You shook your shoulders, relieving some tension in your neck before getting back into the same position. You fired a second shot and hit the mark again. You spun around with a smile on your face ready to thank your trainer when you were met with pretty blue eyes and a blond fringe.

You stammered over your words, “Oh, um, hey Agent Kennedy! I didn’t know you were here.” You shifted your gaze up to meet his eyes, “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s my job. Thought that would work for your height and stature,” he said simply before walking out of the room. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the sudden emptiness of the room once his overwhelming presence was gone.

And from that point on, you had become obsessed with the man. You wanted to know everything there was to know about Leon Kennedy. Once you discovered he had an obsessive streak that matched yours so well, you knew you had to have him. His face had those soft features, but still had a prominent sense of rugged manliness to it. The messy look of his hair, which you could see the effort put into it to give it that carefree look while still being just the right amount of tidy.

Don’t even start on the muscles protruding from his body. It’s like he had been sculpted from angels themselves. You could see the outline of every ab through his tight shirts and the way his arms bulged against the fabric of his sleeves. His aura demanded attention and he always commanded whatever room he was in, he didn’t even have to try. You noticed the way everyone else stared at him with admiration as well. You had no right to be jealous, but you were hooked and anything standing in your way would have to be eliminated.

You’d spent a lot of time trying to overhear gossip about the man’s love life, but he was so private that there wasn’t much actual information to go off of. Everything was pure speculation at this point. But what you did know was how many people had struck out with him. He wasn’t easily impressed by the flirtatious gestures, shyness or boldness. He was a case that no one had been able to crack, but you loved a good challenge.

While the other rookies threw themselves at Leon, you had to feign indifference. He genuinely cared about his job and the “greater good.” So you became the best agent you possibly could, rising through the ranks and becoming the perfect success story. You remained as elusive as possible with all of your coworkers. If Leon wanted to know anything about you, he’d have to do the research himself or ask you directly.

You were so relieved when your plan actually started to work. You could feel his stare on you when you weren’t paying attention to him. You never attempted to make small talk either. You discussed your work and would always thank him for any instruction or help he gave you, but that was it.

A significant moment you remembered was at a mandatory reward dinner. Every single employee was expected to attend, no exceptions. Of course, you had made sure to be sat at the same table as Leon while putting on the front of not caring about the arrangements. You had both remained relatively silent during the conversations about everything and nothing at the same time going on amongst the group at your table. You’d speak and engage when called for, but avoided the small talk and gossiping as usual.

“What about you? No hot date either? What’s up with that?” one of your coworkers nudged your shoulder. You snickered as you took another sip of your wine.

“Quite a few of us at this table don’t have dates either. Maybe we should go around and share all about our personal love lives. John, Sarah, Patrick, Leon? Anybody want to share some misfortunes?” you said nonchalantly and were met with mostly silence, except for Leon who was grinning and trying not to laugh. “Oh wow, the elusive mysteries continue,” you cooed at John who was giving you a dirty look.

“Sorry, I forget you’d rather die than engage in a friendly conversation,” he spoke and huffed out a breath.

“It’d be wise of you to never forget it again, huh?” you nudged him like he had done to you earlier. He rolled his eyes before a laugh slipped from him.

The following Monday, about an hour before it was time to head home, John pulled you to the side to talk to you.

“Hey, you’re not going to believe this,” he said excitedly.

“Oh?” you raised your eyebrow skeptically.

He nodded his head eagerly, “Yeah! Leon fucking Kennedy was asking me about you. He wanted to know what I knew about you.” You had to hide your excitement as you continued to stare at John. “I should totally set the two of you up,” he laughed as he grabbed onto your shoulders and shook excitedly.

You laughed at him, “Wow, agent turned matchmaker? I’m super impressed.” You pulled yourself from his grasp and went to turn and walk around the corner, escaping from the little space John had pulled you into.

You yelped when you ran into a solid object, or solid person rather. Your eyes looked up and came into contact with Leon’s. John came out after you and his eyes widened as he realized Leon was within earshot of the conversation.

John stuttered, “H-hey, buddy. What’s up?” His nervous laughter had you fighting back a smile.

“Buddy?” Leon asked as his arms crossed over his chest. John continued to fumble over his words. Somewhere in the word vomit, there had been an apology. You slipped out while they were both distracted and didn’t stick around to see how their conversation would play out.

After that encounter, you and Leon had built a bit of a friendship. You two were always joking around and helping each other’s workload as much as you possibly could. You took advantage of every conversation you two had and utilized all the information and observations you had of him. You’d bring him coffee when he started giving his sleepy cues. You knew his favorite places to get lunch and would conveniently eat at them regularly, always ordering too much and giving him the leftovers. He never had to run his own errands around the office, because you always offered to do them for him. You never ran yours either, he always jumped up and did your little tasks as well.

You noticed him also adjusting himself around your preferences as well. He slowly switched coffee shops to the one you preferred, attempting to keep you from noticing. But of course you noticed everything. You stopped being assigned the work you’d always complain about and tell him how you dreaded doing those meticulous little tasks. He’d drop little references from shows you’d told him you liked occasionally. Always feeding you information on top secret topics you’d shown interest in.

You were so giddy when you noticed he had upped his game when it came to you. You started to notice things on your desk not being where you had left them. Logging onto your computer and the tab you’d left open not being up on the screen like you had left it. Your heart swooned when you noticed things in your apartment disappearing or being moved without your knowledge. You even noticed him tailing you on your errands, him in his unmarked car staying a reasonable distance as you went to the grocery store or to pay bills.

You noticed the unmarked car in your apartment complex’s parking lot early one morning. So, of course you went outside and lounged on the balcony in your short shorts and tank top that barely covered your chest. Biting your lip, seemingly lost in thought as you drank coffee and scrolled on your phone.

He started placing himself in your path as well. One Saturday, he coincidentally ran into you at the supermarket and you walked around shopping together. He’d jog past your place, waiting for the day you’d be outside and he could recognize you. You let this go on for a few weeks, before finally deciding to get your mail from the office at the exact time he always jogged past. After talking to him for a few minutes, you invited him for some water and a snack. You spent the morning together, before he finally left to continue his run.

So far, it’d been a few months of this back and forth. Running into each other, sharing lunches and coffee, spending more time working together, and you both suddenly were showing up to all work events. Neither of you ever rejected the offer to go out for drinks when invited by coworkers. You always stayed near one another, no matter the outing. You longed for the day something would finally happen between you two. You knew he was basically stalking you at this point and you made sure to make this job as easy as possible on him.

The longer the chase, the better the end result right? As long as you kept Leon right where you wanted him, you could keep this up forever. You imagined all of the ways he would finally make his move, finally bridge the gap between you two and mold you together where you belonged. Until then, you’d be his perfect and oblivious subject.

~masterlist~

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfiction #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #ghostkennedy

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rthko · 4 months

Note

Hey, I remember reading a while ago a post or two of yours about the word faggot, specifically as almost a third/"failed" gender. I've come to identify with the word a lot myself as I've figured out my sexuality and gender, so I was wondering if you had any further reading on the word and its history and reclamation that I could look into? Thanks!

First, I'm glad this post resonated with you! I unfortunately can't help much with the etymology or history of the term itself, but maybe I can help with the concept I use it to represent. It has been an ongoing project of mine to articulate, if nothing else to myself, the specificities of gayness. "Gay" refers to too wide a range of experiences to really be specific, but I am referring to those of us for whom "gay" refers not to the mere fact of our desires but what distinguishes us in a gestural and cultural level from other men. In effect, a gender in its own right. When writing that post I opted for "faggot," because what I wanted to described referred not just to male homosexuality but the experience of having chance or the expectation to live as men and symbolically or literally rejecting it.

I have a lot to say but I'll try to keep it brief. When I have articulated something like this in the past, some people have commended it saying that there's a lot of writing on lesbian as a gender but not the same for gays. This is not entirely true. Karl Heinrichs Ulrichs was the first to write of and identify with homosexuality as an essential characteristic, but this version of homosexuality was the urning, or "woman enclosed in the body of a man." We would recognize this today as trans womanhood, although there is great writing by trans women challenging the "wrong body" framing. This concept came to be known as inversion, which sexologists co-signed often in good faith but to predictably unhelpful ends. This concept is understandably obsolete because of its essentialism, the proliferation of trans theory, and of course the offense it poses to gay men. But as someone who has always self-identified and been externally considered at the fringes of manhood, I took a strange comfort in it. To know that gay men and trans women were grouped together in this uneasy alliance goes against ahistorical notions that transgenderism is an unwelcome intrusion into queerness.

So I guess the text I was looking for was The Faggots and their Friends Between the Revolutions by Larry Mitchell, 1977. People recommended me that book after my post, and I was stunned by its resonance. Mitchell waxes lyrical about the faggots, their allies the women, and their adversaries the men. His description of the faggot's identify formation is as follows:

The faggots once called themselves the men who love men. But they discovered that they did not love men, they loved only other men who loved men which was not that many of them. The men who hate others were false and death-inflicting and obsessed with being strangers. The men who hate others hate the men who love men. And this hatred is so strong that it turns the men who love men into the faggots.

Notice it does not use the logic of inversion or make any pretense of the faggots being women. Yet it does locate the point at which "faggots" detach from "men" and recognizes them as different categories. The post-stonewall pre-AIDS period in which this book was written produced a lot of "proto-nonbinary" identities, like faeries and queens. It's hard to determine by 21st century standards who in the mix counts as trans and who doesn't.

When I tried to articulate in more personal terms what this gray area means to me today, a lot of people found it resonant but a lot of people found it offensive. I felt like I owed apology to those who felt aggrieved, but the problem was that half considered it offensive that I considered myself related to transness in any way and the other half considered it offensive that I still described myself as cis. I was either a cis man who refused to check his privilege or a self hating non-binary person who just needed to come out already. I maintain that whatever you want to call me or what I want to call myself, there are material distinctions between me and most trans people that can't be ignored. And I think what keeps me from making the jump is that to introduce myself as nonbinary would make people tiptoe around language in a way I don't personally feel is necessary, but gayness has its own methods that work for me. I like the way we careen promiscuously between gendered scripts and signifiers, and the camp sensibility that refuses to take itself too seriously. I am also hesitant to describe myself as what Lyft would call "Women+."

This is a long post by Tumblr standards but if I were to really say everything I want to say Tumblr would not be the medium for it. But if you're looking for something to read on the subject, I recommend Larry Mitchell of course, Susan Sontag's Notes on Camp, Judith Butler's Gender Trouble (but just skip to part three and the conclusion honestly), Cruising Utopia by José Esteban Muñoz in part for his analysis of gesture in queer of color dance, and The Queer Art of Failure by J Halberstam that further elaborates on Muñoz's writings on failure and adds a butch perspective. Currently I am reading Male Subjectivity at the Margins by Kaja Silverman, which is a little psychoanalytic for my taste but offers a fascinating re-evaluation of inversion theory without endorsing it.

Despite all the effort I put into this post it will not be rebloggable sorry. 🤐

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liyawritesss · 1 year

Text

ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜɪɴ', ʟᴏᴠɪɴ', ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴ'

Characters: HBCU!Emerald Haywood, HBCU!Shuri Udaku x Black!Fem!Reader

From: NOPE (2022) Dir. Jordan Peele & Black Panther: Wakanda Forever (2022) Dir. Ryan Coogler

Type: Fic

Word Count: 12.8k

In Collaboration With: @babyboiboyega

Synopsis: Emerald and Shuri finally meet for the first time, and when coming to the realization that you’ve been keeping yourself away from them deliberately, the two women plan to give you exactly what you want.

Warnings: cursing, mentions of drug usage (cannabis), mentions of greening out, suggestive themes, smut

A/N: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ‼️ this is an 18+ rated fic, you have been warned. I ain't responsible for scarring yall asses. But yeah, this is my first time writing sex...particularly wlw sex so I hope that it makes sense and actually sounds accurate. This Is the product of Quin and I's heavy thirsting one cold night in early January....This is also inspired by the great @generallysapphic and their amazing catalog of expertly written wlw smut with our favorite Wakanda Forever geniuses. With that being said, I hope you all enjoy this one. Strap in, this is a long one(no pun intended)!

Tags: @inmyheadimobsessed @badass-dora-milaje @babyboiboyega @verachii @heartsforjojo @letitias-fav @kingstormpostsshit @shurismainbxtch @zayswriting @rxcently @nzia-writes @writingintheshadowsforever @hufflehans @kokichiis7 @xxmilli @typicalme13 @zestgodtj @generallysapphic @ziayamikaelson @shuriszn @percsane @justariellove @n7cje @mbakuetshurisprincess

Today is the day.

There’s a pool of anxiety forming in your tummy, and you’re not sure why. Not even your music can sway you into calmer waters, which tells you that the feeling in your tummy is nothing to play off.

You’re standing in the mirror, going over your figure once more. The three-piece cream lounge set you wore, complete with fuzzy shorts, cropped tank and long flow-y cardigan contrasted beautifully against your honey brown skin. Your braids had been pulled into a half-up ponytail, with two on each side left down in the front to frame your face. It was the set Emerald had bought you for your birthday, knowing that you’d love the fabric used. Ironically Shuri bought you the exact same one, color and all, saying that the color of it reminded her of you.

God, how did you manage to have Emerald Haywood and Shuri Udaku wrapped around your dainty little finger? Even you couldn't answer that question.

Looking at the both of them, who’s polaroid pictures had been taped lovingly on the fringe of your full length mirror, anyone could tell that you had a type. Dark skin, brown eyes, curly hair - the only thing making them different were their origins and occupations. And the one thing tying these two women of completely different worlds together, was you.

You remember the day you first met Emerald. You’d been shopping at Best Buy trying to find a new camera to take better pictures with for your photography class. Emerald was there, and from the moment she saw you, she knew she had to have you. Sparking up a conversation was easy, and the laughter that was shared in that camera aisle was one you’d never experienced before. Despite her brother cockblocking, as she would recall it, urging for them to go, Emerald took her sweet time typing her number into your phone. The wink she sent you had butterflies dancing in your stomach, and til this day, it still does.

Then, two weeks later, you met Shuri Udaku. Despite her wanting to keep her social status under tight lock and key, the air of regality and confidence she held did little to help her keep her identity under wraps. Not to mention, she’d seen you in her African American Literature class, and was immediately captivated by your intelligence. After class, Shuri didn’t hesitate to pull you aside, apologize for her abruptness, and ask you out on a date. She wanted to court you properly, and, if things went well, she would propose the option of making things official.

Suddenly, you found yourself catching feelings for both women, who wanted you just as much as you wanted them. And what made it harder to choose was that they not only said how much they wanted you, they thoroughly showed it in acts of service, giving you gifts, and taking on roles that previous partners of yours had never done before, and could never compare to.

At first, you believed you had to choose, but then the thought came to you; why choose, when you could have both?

You’d since begun your plot of making them both yours, and only yours, and step one had been to slowly introduce the idea of polygamy to each woman. Shuri was more susceptible to the concept, having grown up in an environment where queer relationships and polygamy were just as normal as heterosexual relationships and monogamy were. She verbally told you that she would be more than willing to give polygamy a shot, and you were more than happy that she accepted the idea.

Then, there was Emerald, who you had to put in a bit more work when talking about polygamy. She is in no way a stranger to queerness, but polygamy as a concept was something she found a bit hard to grasp. But after explaining it a few times, using a few analogies that pertained to her and her interests to better help her understand the concept, she, too, was all in for it.

Emerald and Shuri had met before, only over the phone via Facetime and in your shared group chat. The two got along swimmingly, becoming the fastest friends and soon enough shooting flirtatious words at each other within the month after confirming that they’d each be willing to give this three-person relationship a shot. The last part of this scheme, to absolutely make sure that all three of you were willing to put in the effort to make this work, was for Shuri and Emerald to meet in person.

And today was the day that Shuri and Emerald could be coming to your apartment to do just that.

You’d taken special care in your attire today, hence the lounge set you’d chosen to put on, as well as the purple diamond studded necklace with panther claws that Shuri had gifted you a while ago, and Emerald’s favorite scent on you - sage and vanilla bean, as the scent drove the woman insane.

A knock sounded at your door, breaking you from your daze and making you jog to the door to answer. It was none other than Shuri, who had also gotten the memo about loungewear, since this would be a pretty laid back and chill day. Sporting a simple dark gray sweat pant and hoodie set, and her hair in a fresh twist out letting her curls hand low on her forehead, and her ears sporting the same kimoyo earrings she always wore; Shuri looked so fucking attractive.

“Hi, usana,” She says, immediately reaching out to pull your frame against hers. Her arms instinctively snaking around your waist, her warm, slightly calloused hands feeling so warm against the small of your back as she pulled you in. Your arms instinctively went to wrap around her neck, embracing her back, and if it wasn’t in the doorway of your apartment, you’d stay there in that embrace forever.

“Hi, baby,” you whisper against her neck, the similar smell of sage and lavender ticking your nose, making you smile against her skin. You brung Shuri into your apartment, taking notice of the backpack she’d brought with her and ignoring the heat that trickled down your legs. Shuri knows your apartment by heart, and once she tucks her bag away in the storage closet, she makes her way to the couch with you.

“Where’s Em?” Shuri questions, noticing the missing presence in the apartment.

“She got held up with her brother on something, she should be here in, like, an hour.” You reply, to which Shuri acknowledges with a hum as she takes a seat on the couch. Her body sinks into the cushions, her legs spread, and she stretches, and you catch the tiniest glimpse of her toned tummy. The little sound she makes from stretching makes you giggle a bit, as you walk over to take your place on her lap.

Shuri’s hands are instinctive and skillful, positioning your body so you’re sitting across her lap, and her hands are on any bare skin she can get in contact with. She’s clingy, she normally gets like this after a long day of classes or doing her science projects. You go to embrace her once more, and her head finds comfort in your breasts, inhaling your scent, bringing her comfort.

“Missed you, my love,” she whispers against you.

“Missed you too, baby,” you reply, pressing a kiss to her temple.

The next hour is spent with the two of you just talking about your day. Your hand dances on Shuri’s undercut as she speaks, your nude acrylics creating soothing friction against the nape of her neck and the design in her undercut. It’s one of the mundane, completely normal things that turns her on the most, and while Shuri tries to keep her composure, you notice how her breath hitches ever so slightly, and the subtle shifts she makes under you.

There’s another knock at your door, and the only person it could be is Emerald. The anxious pool from before finds its way back into your stomach, as you quickly stand up to answer the door. Shuri follows after, albeit keeping a few feet of distance away to allow Emerald easy passage into the humble abode.

There in the doorway stands the last addition to your trio, in all her glory. She sports an oversized graphic t-shirt, baggy jeans and her signature Doc Martens. She has a chain dangling from her neck, and her curls also dance along her forehead beautifully.

Similar to Shuri, Emerald greets you with a “Hey, mamas,” as she brings you in by the waist, and you by her neck. After your embrace, you rush her inside, and you turn to see Emerald and Shuri greet each other warmly, with Em initiating a hand shake that Shuri gladly reciprocates, and it ends in the two women embracing each other.

“Man, you don’t know how good it is to finally meet you!” Emerald beams, showing off her killer smile to the young royal. “Wait- I ain’t gotta curtsy or none of that right? We cool off that?”

“It is good to see you, too, Em.” Shuri replies, her own smile, brighter than any sunrise you’ve ever witnessed, adorning her face. “And no, no curtsy needed. I’m just Shuri here.”

The anxiety that once pooled in your stomach disappeared the moment you saw them embrace each other. The two women took their positions on your couch (Emerald had also discarded the backpack she brought in your storage closet, and again, the heat that pooled in your core came back, more intense than before), and the two immediately made space for you between them.

“Ain’t you comin’ to sit, ma?” Emerald asked.

You shook your head, bringing the two confusion. “As much as I’d love to be in between my two favorite people - dinner isn’t gonna cook itself.” you replied, instead making your way into the kitchen, “But please, talk, get to know each other! I’m not even here!”

Your little chime brings laughter from both Emerald and Shuri, and they do as you wish, conversating amongst themselves and entertaining each other while you focus on dinner.

It’s sometime in the evening, determined by the way the pretty golden beams of the setting sun shine into your apartment through the large floor to ceiling bay windows.

Emerald had gone to fetch your bottle of wine from the kitchen, planting a quick kiss to your forehead and an even quicker swat at your butt, causing you to gasp in surprise. You shoo her out of the kitchen as she grabs two wine glasses for her and Shuri. As she approaches the couch once more, she catches sight of the way the sun does wonders to Shuri’s skin, making glow effortlessly, and damn, Emerald finds herself enraptured by this princess. And Shuri takes note of it, a small smirk plastering itself on her face.

“Something catch your eye, my gem?” Shuri asks innocently, using the nickname she had given to Emerald the moment the other became comfortable with the concept of polygamy, using it as a stepping stone to further the attraction.

Emerald scrunches her nose as she places a glass in front of Shuri, pouring the red alcoholic beverage into it, as she replies, “Shut up, princess.”

Her reply gains a chuckle from Shuri, who takes a sip of the wine when Emerald finishes pouring. She immediately recognizes the taste as the fruity bitterness slips down her throat, “Barefoot?��

“Aww, you know your liquor, aye?” Emerald sings, pouring her own class.

“It's the only thing I can keep down,” Shuri explains, “anything other than wine and I go bat-shit crazy. Learned that at my first college party.”

“Don’t tell me they gave you Henny right off the bat? No chaser?”

“Man, they didn’t even give me a warning of what would happen!” Of course, Shuri’s experience was not a laughable one, but the way she spoke of it brought a rumble of laughter from the other brown skinned woman.

“They did you wrong, princess. Don’t worry though, I ain’t gon’ set you up like that,” Emerald hums, “Besides wine, I only fucks with light liquor anyway, so that dark shit don’t even be up my alley.”

Shuri rests back on the couch as she takes in Emerald’s side profile. The sun that once shone on her skin now hit Emerald’s beautifully. The hoop earrings that hung from her ears, her fresh, shiny curls, her sharp jawline - Shuri couldn’t help but feel something warm pool into her stomach from the sight of such a beautiful woman. It’s a miracle she’s even able to be here now - her schedule had been hectic as of late, which is why the meeting between the two had been postponed until now - but she’s now grateful to be in the presence of both the women she loved.

“You look beautiful, Emerald,” Shuri suddenly blurts out, albeit confidently and not ashamed in the slightest. It catches Emerald off guard, not used to verbally hearing Shuri’s straightforwardness, but nonetheless, it excites her.

“You not bad lookin’ yourself, ‘ri,” Emerald replies, but she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t heat creeping up her neck from the sudden compliment. “Aye, do you smoke?”

“Not really, no,” Shuri replied, “I’ve only ever gotten contact high, thanks to that one in there,” she continued, gesturing to your figure in the kitchen, still cooking.

“You wanna? I got a couple of blunts on me.” Emerald offers. Shuri takes a moment to think, before shrugging her shoulders in indifference. “Wouldn’t hurt, I don’t think.”

With that confirmation, Emerald fishes out a blunt from her front pocket, as well as a lighter, and with swiftness and expertise, she lights the brown roll up and takes a pull from it. Soon after it leaves her lips, she emits a puff of smoke from them. Shuri watches intently, more so the other woman’s lips than the actions she took to pull the intoxicating smoke from the blunt.

“Aight, so, it's simple shit,” Emerald begins, turning her body to face Shuri, and the princess does the same, “you just put to your lips and inhale. Don't do it too deep, though, just do it a lil’ bit, and once you feel like you got enough, you just blow out. Aight?”

Shuri nodded in confirmations, as Emerald handed Shuri the blunt. Shuri took it, examining the roll quizzingly, before raising it up to her lips and doing as she was instructed. Her lungs took a slight burn from the intake of smoke, and when she released it from behind her lips, a cough also escaped as a form of relief to her stinging lungs.

“Aye, good job, princess!” Emerald praised, raising a hand to pat Shuri’s back to aid in her slight coughing fit. She took the blunt from Shuri’s hand, seeing that she may be good for another few puffs before it was handed back to her.

“Why did it taste fruity?” Shuri inquires, intrigued by the taste of grape being left on her lips.

“Oh, the roll is flavored. This is white grape.” Emerald explains as she takes another pull of the blunt.

Shuri could feel the effects of the cannabis already taking hold, or at least, feel the smoke beginning to muddle her mind. It was an interesting feeling, made her feel light and airy, and oddly clingy. The next couple of pulls from Shuri had her fishing for Emerald’s hand to hold, of which the other woman found adorable and endearing. It reminded her of the first time she got high with you, and how incredibly touchy and clingy you were, desperate for her touch. The first night you got high together was forever emblazoned in Emerald’s mind.

“You good, princess?” Emerald asked, to which Shuri nodded, her voice becoming non-existent as the cannabis took control over her mind. She now laid her head against the couch, still fiddling with Emerald’s hand, and an idea came to Emerald’s mind. “Sit up for me, baby.”

Shuri obliged eagerly, curious to what Emerald was doing. The smoker took a deep pull from the blunt, took Shuri gently by the throat, and brought the princess’s face closer to hers. Slowly, Emerald blew the stream of smoke right into Shuri’s lips, which had already formed an ‘o’ shape to receive it. Their lips were agonizingly close, and if it wasn’t for Emerald’s hand keeping her in place, Shuri would have leaned in to kiss Emerald.

Shuri withstood the smoke, feeling her mind becoming even more muddled by the drug. And as if her mind had been read, Emerald leaned in and connected her soft lips onto Shuri’s. Immediately, the princess melted into it, following Emerald’s guiding hand.

Emerald is the first to pull away, a smirk gracing her lips once she sees just how hooked Shuri is.

“Fuck, that was hot,” Emerald mutters, and Shuri couldn’t agree more.

A voice - your voice - calls from the kitchen, your tone amused and slightly worried by Emerald’s antics. “Are you done corrupting my baby? The food is almost ready.”

“We comin’, we comin’,!” Emerald says back, putting out her blunt and setting it on the ashtray on your coffee table, moving to stand up. Now that her mind isn't consumed with how pretty Shuri looks high and intaking the smoke from the shotgun, she notices that the princess is a bit too quiet for her liking. Giving Shuri’s figure a once over, Emerald’s expert eyes ntoice the slight tremble that’s overtaking Shuri’s body.

“A-Are you my hands suppose to be shaking, Emerald?”

“Shit-”

“Em, what’s wrong?”

Emerald is no stranger to green outs, witnessing and experiencing them alike, but the idea that she was too fast and too much for the princess to handle made a pang of guilt spring in her chest.

“Nothin’! Bring Shuri a glass of water, bae!”

Perplexed, you complied, reaching into the fridge for a bottle water and bringing it to the couch where Emerald and Shuri had made themselves at home, and you soon saw why Emerald requested the clear beverege.

“What the hell- Did you green her out?!”

“It was an accident, I swear!”

It takes a split second for you to take Emerald’s previous spot on the couch, immediately going into nurturing mode and examining the extent of Shuri’s trembles. It’s only her hands and legs that are shaking, not violently but also not slightly either.

“Em, help me take her sweatshirt off, she’s sweating,” you instruct, and in another swift motion, Emerald takes a seat behind Shuri on the couch. With care you strip the princess of her sweatshirt, leaving her in her black sports bra, her skin damn with a thin layer of sweat.

“Hey, baby, look at me,” you whisper softly to Shuri, who’s blown out eyes find yours with ease despite her current state, “you’re alright, okay? Just take some deep breaths, and drink this-” your hand gently pushes the small bottle of water into her own hands, which seemed to have calmed down from their light tremors, “-and I’ll bring you something to eat, okay?”

Shuri nods, taking in your words, though her mind is too foggy to comprehend much of anything else. Emerald embraces her from behind, and Shuri graciously finds comfort in leaning back into Emerald’s chest. The cotton fabric of her shirt is cool and refreshing against Shuri’s heated skin. As you stepped away to make your two lovers their plates, Emerald assists in bringing the water to Shuri’s lips to drink. The woman downed the liquid feverishly, and returns to her previous behavior of reaching for Emerald’s hand to ground her.

Once the bottle is done and discarded, Shuri goes to her wrist, pulling off the bracelet Emerald had been eying for its simple beauty. The princess places the beads on her chest, and before Emerald has a chance to ask what she’s doing, Shuri speakds;

“Griot, read me my vitals, please.”

“Hello, princess.” a male voice sounds out, spiraling Emerald further into confusion.

“Hol’ on, is your bracelet talkin’-?”

“Your blood pressure is 80/120. Your heart rate is 102 beats per minute, slightly higher than your average 90 beats per minute. All organ and artery functions are good. You seem to be experiencing Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) overdose, specifically due to a potent strand of cannabis known as Indica. This can cause nausea, abdominal pain, and dehydration. Would you like me to recommend foods and beverages to counteract the Tetrahydrocannabinol (THC) overdose?”

“No, that is all, thank you-”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Emerald’s voice interjects, “your bracelet just fucking talked-!”

In Emerald’s astonishment, Shuri directs the AI to introduce itself to Emerald, as she’s still a bit far gone in her mind to fully concentrate on explaining her invention.

“Hello. May I register your name into my memory stores, so I know how to address you?”

“Uh….Em..-Emerald Haywood?”

“Hello ‘Em’. Is it alright if I address you as such?”

“Uh…sure?”

“Okay, Em. My name is Griot. I am an artificial intelligence designed by and to assist Princess Shuri in her scientific and engineering endeavors. My primary functions outside of laboratory duties are to read the Princess her daily vitals, generate answers to the Princess’s questions based on searches through the World Wide Web, and set and read out reminders for the Princess throughout her day.”

Emerald is too shocked to speak - never in her life had she encountered a piece of technology so advanced. She knew that Shuri was a pretty important person, and a literal genius, so it’s no surprise she would come in contact with one of her creations, but nothing like this ever crossed her mind.

“Thank you for the vital read, Griot,” you say, as you come from the kitchen holding two plates of food in your hand. You set them on the coffee table, one for each woman.

“Hello Ms. (Y/N). You are welcome for the vital read.”

“Does Shuri have any important messages from home?”

The AI beeps, stalls for a second, before responding, “No new messages, Ms. (Y/N).”

“Good, you can go on standby, then. We’ll take care of Shuri’s green out.”

The AI bids you farewell and beeps off, and Shuri sends you a look that says ‘thank you’ in reference to you checking her messages, something she’d been bad on doing as of late. You turn to Emerald’ who is still staring at the silver beads resting on her partners chest, then shoots a look back up to you.

“She got a talkin’ bracelet-”

“They’re called kimoyo beads, babe. And it’s an AI installed in it-”

“Do you got a talkin’ bracelet I don't know about?!”

You shake your head, instead bringing attention to a pair of earrings similar to Shuri’s. “I have earrings instead. They’re more discreet this way.”

“....so when can I get a talkin’ bracelet, or earrings, or whatever?”

“Oh my god, Em, just help Shuri eat something so the THC don’t eat away at her more than it already has.”

At that, Shuri makes a move to sit up on her own, slow and albeit a bit wobbly, still coming down from the unpleasant experience from the THC overdose. “I’m-I’m okay. I can eat on my own….I think.”

After you’ve gotten your food, the next hour is spent with Emerald and you practically doting on the princess as she recovers miraculously fast from her green out. Perhaps it is due to the vibranium herbal stores in the kimoyo beads, of which would have been released onto the skin and penetrate the surface level when Shuri’s body began displaying signals of distress. Or, it could be the enhancement the heart-shaped herb gave Shuri’s immune system when ingested long ago. The cause of her recovery didn’t matter as much as the fact that she was better, and was able to function without tremors disrupting her movements.

The three of you ate in peace while a movie played - Emerald’s commentary being more of the star of the show than the actual characters in the movie. In that time, you were able to take in both women in all their glory. Their warm, sun kissed skin which now glowed from the warm white light your LED’s were shining, the way they were so trained on the television, the way they interacted with each other. You couldn’t believe that earlier you had any doubts of the two not getting along once they’d met each other in person. If anything, they seemed like they’d already known each other their whole lives.

Once dinner was finished and another round of wine was shared, you took the dirty dishes in the kitchen and prepared to clean up what little mess was left from your cooking. Emerald watched your figure shrink away into the kitchen area, thinking of something.

“Hey, princess,” she calls to the other woman, who responds with a hum, as her lips were currently occupied with the red alcoholic beverage in her cup.

“You’re around here more, right? Cuz you go to the same college bae-bae does right?” Emerald asks, using her nickname for you. Shuri nods, confirming Emerald’s suspicions with another hum.

“So have y’all, like, fucked recently?”

The question takes Shuri off guard, but gets her to think as well. After a moment, the princess shakes her head. “I think the last time we were intimate was…a month ago?”

“Damn, a month?”

“Yes - but I believe she had a lot of important projects coming up for that one photography class of hers.”

“Hm. Interesting.”

Emerald peers over her shoulder to take a glance at you, still scrubbing away in the kitchen. Shuri follows her gaze, slowly catching on to what Emerald was insinuating.

“And you two? How long has it been, I mean?”

“Shit, probably like a month and a half. I been dealing with shit with my brother, but normally she goes crazy if she don’t get it, y’know?”

“Indeed, I do know. The longest we’ve ever gone without sex would have been two weeks. I was away at home, and when I came back…for lack of better words, she was quite feral.”

There’s another pause, and Shuri and Emerald share a look.

“You don’t think…it was deliberate, her making us wait this long?”

“I think that she thinks shit is sweet, tryna play us like this.”

Emerald takes a swig of wine from her glass, swirling the red liquid inside. Then, abruptly, she stops. A lightbulb goes off in her head, and it’s evident by the smirk that grows on her lips. Shuri catches this, and has an idea of what Emerald’s mind is already concocting.

“What’re you planning, my gem?” Shuri questions with a knowing look, a crooked smile of anticipation gracing her lips.

“Just thinkin’...we should give her what she wants…” Emerald replies, placing her glass back on the coffee table, her smirk increasing, “...or not.”

Shuri’s eyebrows raise, though not with surprise; more out of anticipation…excitement. Admittedly, as soon as she had caught onto what Em was insinuating, she had felt that bud of excitement slowly unfurl in her stomach, only furthered by the attraction she had quickly grown towards Em and the attraction she already had for you.

“Oh, we’ll give her something. Who knew our girl could be so schemeful?”

The sound of the sink turning off interrupts Em before she canspeak. They both hear you rummaging around, tidying up whatever you had used before presumably joining them. Em takes the chance to connect her gaze with Shuri’s, nodding subtly to the storage closet where they both had placed their bags…the bags that contained the items that would surely make you think twice about doing something like this again.

Shuri, her smile widening, stands and quietly makes her way over, opening it and grabbing both bags. Ever since she had seen Em walk in and deposit the bag in your storage, a small part of her had been constantly thinking about what could be in; now, her heart speeds up slightly at the thought of finding out soon enough.

The silence in the other room makes you pause, as only a few seconds ago you had heard their voices, slightly drowned out by the running water, but there nonetheless. Now…it was silent. Almost abruptly so.

You quickly wipe your hands on the nearest towel before turning and making your way back into the main room, your eyes instantly flickering between your two favorite women. The sight that you meet makes you pause in your tracks, your heart seeming to know what was going before you did as it speeds up slightly.

“Is everything okay?”

Shuri sets the bags her and Em brought on the ground, her gaze landing on you afterwards. There’s a knowing look in her eye paired with something you could only liken to the look she adopted whenever you did something that amused her or made her proud. Your body reacted on its own, the same ball of heat from earlier slowly gaining size where it rested in your core. Though, as soon as you turn your gaze to Em, that heat turns into something you can just barely contain.

Her eyes narrow as she gazes at you from her spot on the couch, the dark pools of brown harboring a look that you recognize immediately.

“You think you slick, don’t you?”.

The question paired with the smug tone in Em’s voice has your body clenching around nothing, the ball of eat moving to envelop your entire body. The next breath you take in is shaky as your eyes move to Shuri. She only cocks her head, her eyes appraising you from where she stood.

“Em, baby, what are you talking about-”

Emerald sets her wine glass down with a sigh, leaning forward and pulling herself to the edge of her seat. Her eyes connect with yours with an intensity that’s so strong that it practically has you shaking as she motions for you to walk closer. It's so intense and so heady that you don’t realize you’re being surrounded until you feel a solid line of heat against your back, effectively trapping you in front of Em’s sitting form in front of you.

A small gasp leaves your mouth as Shuri’s hands snake around your waist. One is pressed open-palmed against your stomach, holding you in place, while the other raises and presses right against the space beneath your breasts. Her hands are gentle, but firm enough to tell you that you aren’t going anywhere unless she lets you. Her hands don’t move an inch as she lowers her head, placing a kiss against the shell of your hair only to continue placing them down the length of your neck. Her actions make your eyes flutter slightly, every other breath of yours hitched and shaky.

“Don’t play that. You know exactly what we talkin’ about- tryna play us like we wouldn’t figure it out.” There's a hint of authority in Em’s tone as she speaks, and you’re no stranger to it, as you had heard it more than once. But if it isn’t her voice and her words that make the insides of your thighs slick with arousal, then its the way she suddenly grabs your hips and pulls you down, right onto the apex of her thigh. The feeling of her thigh against your clothed core is consuming enough to make you shiver, your hands raising and landing on her shoulder to give yourself more leverage.

“Keeping us away from you…makin’ up those excuses ‘bout being busy…and then gettin’ us to come here?” Every sentence is emphasized by her hands rocking your hips with a precision that's almost deadly. With every rock, the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs brushes perfectly against hers, making you curse.

“Thought you were doin’ somethin, huh?”

Shuri’s hands had shifted as you straddled Em’s leg, one raising to cup the underside of your jaw while the other slipped deftly under the cropped tank top adorning your top half. She cupped one of your bra-clad breasts, her thumb rubbing over the underside of it. The waves of pleasure emitting from your top and bottom half makes your eyes flutter until they close, your head falling back slightly to rest on Shuri’s chest.

“We’ll give you what you want, what you schemed so hard for…”

Shuri’s voice is almost raspy as she speaks into your ear, her lips brushing against your skin. The hand placed on your jaw reaches around until her slender fingers cover the expanse of your neck. Her hand presses into the diamond and vibranium encrusted necklace she had given you, the points of the panther claws digging slightly into your skin and only adding on another layer of pleasure.

EM’s hands tighten, increasing the speed with which she maneuvers your hips until you’re panting slightly, your throat bobbing with each breath under Shuri’s hand.

“But we’ll do it on our terms, now.”

Her sentence is almost close to a reprimand, making your eyes snap open right as Em’s hands stop, holding you in place. The pleasure that had been building quickly comes to a stand still, making a whine leave your mouth as you try rocking your hips once more. Em’s hands are unrelenting in their strength, not letting you move an inch as she stares up at you, a smirk slowly raising the corner of her mouth.

Any and all words you think of die on the tip of your tongue as Shuri’s hands pull you backwards, prompting you to stand on your feet once more. Your core throbbed as the pressure made by Em’s thigh disappeared.

Emerald watches as Shuri pulls you against her, one hand still on your neck while the other is placed on your hip. With a sound of frustration in your ear, Shuri quickly reaches for the cardigan hanging off your shoulders, pulling it until she all but rips it off your frame, and leaving you in the matching cotton shorts and cropped tank top.

“An entire month of nothing, and now you want to act shy. Why is that, usana? Hm?”

Emerald leans forward, blindly reaching for one of the bags that had been brought out, and the mere sight of her reaching in before pulling out the strap you had grown very comfortable with has your thighs clenching together and a whine crawling up your throat. It makes itself known as you breathlessly speak,

“Please. I just wanted-”

“We know what you want.”

Her movements are quick as her fingers wrap beneath the necklace adorning your neck, tightening it slightly. Every coherent thought of yours flies out of the window as Shuri’s hand suddenly delves beneath the waistband of your shorts, cupping your clothed core. The sudden sensation makes you jump, your ass pressing firmly into the front of her body as you bend over slightly.

“Shit-!”

She doesn’t give you time to recover or even catch your breath before her fingers are moving in tight circles over your clit, her other arm pulling you up until your back is pressed against her chest.

The feeling of Shuri’s fingers working you over while the other gently squeezes your neck makes your eyes roll back in pleasure, a drawn out moan leaving your lips. Her arm across your chest is strong enough to keep you standing on your shaky legs, as with each pass of her skilled fingers across the most sensitive part of you makes it harder to function.

It makes a tightness build in the pit of your stomach, one that only threatens to send out waves of pure pleasure and make you lose your bearings. One hand lands on her wrist where it disappears beneath your shorts, fingers wrapping around it while you soundlessly plead for her to keep going, while the other raises and grabs the back of her neck.

You can feel it building, the urge to let go and let Shuri’s hand alone work you through the orgasm cresting like a wave over your consciousness. Your mouth falls open and your breaths come quicker, pleas being mingled in with small cries…

And then Shuri wrenches her hand away, and the sound that leaves your mouth is borderline mournful as your orgasm is stopped abruptly.

Maybe you should’ve thought more about your little scheme and what would happen if they found out. You had been banking on them both being too worked up after a month or so to punish you like this, but that was obviously a mistake.

“Shuri, please…”

“You waited an entire month for this moment…I think you can wait a little longer.”

Her words make a whimper leave your mouth because…how much longer would you have to wait?

“Which one you want, princess?”

It's the sound of mischievousness and anticipation in Em’s honey smooth voice that makes your eyes snap open…and its the sight of the strap dangling from one hand while her go-to vibrator is in the other that makes your pussy clench around nothing.

This is it, this is how you die.

Em had at some point taken off her shirt and her pants, leaving her in a sports bra and a pair of boxers that hugged her hips. You swallow hard as she walks towards you, the toys in her hands taunting you with how much pleasure and punishment they could bring.

“I want something that’ll make her beg.”

Shuri’s words are emphasized by her hands turning you around before pushing you onto the couch, her and Em’s eyes appraising you as you lean back.

You wanted to tell them to hurry up and get on with it. You had been waiting for an entire month, albeit by your own willingness; but that entire month had been filled with you having to physically restrain yourself from jumping them whenever you saw them.

You weren’t in any position to make demands, though. You were completely and utterly at the mercy of both of your lovers…and it made you nervous and excited.

“We gon make her beg, alright.”

Sucking your bottom lip into your mouth, you watch with hooded eyes as Em drops the vibrator in its protective case on the table. She wraps her arms around Shuri’s waist from behind, her eyes holding yours as she lowers her lips to press a lingering, open mouthed kiss to where Shuri’s neck and shoulder meet.

Her hands spread Shuri’s legs slightly before hooking into the waistband of her sweatpants and pulling them down, all while continuing to press her lips against any skin she could reach. The sight of Shuri’s head falling back against Em’s shoulder, her strong jawline in perfect view as it clenches makes your hand act on its own accord. It slides down, running over your breasts and the tips of your hardened nipples before continuing its path to your leaking pussy. The warning in Em’s eyes makes your actions halt, your eyes instantly focusing on the sight of her hands skillfully wrapping the buckles around Shuri’s thighs before fastening them in the back. Her hand picks up a bottle that had been placed on the table, opening it and squeezing a generous amount of the lube into her hand.

“Look at her, ‘Ri.”

Shuri’s eyes follow Em’s words, connecting with yours right as Em’s hand closes over the shaft of the silicone dildo hanging between Shuri’s legs. She glides her hand up and down the length of it as the corner of her lips curve into a smile you know all too well; one that says she knows exactly what's about to happen but you don’t.

“Look how needy she is...after a month of playin, now she wanna act impatient.”

It only takes a few steps for Em to step around Shuri and make her way around the couch you’re on, your eyes following her until they physically can’t anymore. You crane your neck to try and get a glimpse of where she disappeared behind you, but your attention is quickly pulled back when you feel your necklace being grabbed.

Shuri’s eyes are hard when you look back, and she’s closer than she had been mere seconds ago. You rarely forget about the Black Panther’s abilities she had adopted, but her speed, agility, and endurance whenever you two fucked had always served as a good reminder.

“Take these off before I rip them off.” Her hands fist into the material of the cotton shorts adorning your bottom half, and you eagerly and quickly move to follow her directions, knowing full well that she could.

Your hips lift off of the couch and your hands scramble to pull them off, something you’ve been waiting to do ever since they both showed up, but your movements aren’t fast enough for the princess; that much is obvious in the way she growls before grabbing your hips, pulling them to the edge of the couch and quickly wrenching your shorts and underwear down.

The startled yelp that leaves your mouth quickly turns into a gasp as the air hits your pussy, the slickness making the air colder than it is as Shuri pushes your legs further apart. The sound of your folds separating with a squelch has a hissed breath leaving Shuri’s mouth, her eyes focusing on the part of you that she loved to bury her face into; the part of you that fed her when she was thirsting for you and gave her life while simultaneously making her want to stay until she could no longer breathe.

“How’s our girl looking, ‘Ri?”

Em’s question comes right before her hands abruptly pull your shirt up and reach beneath the cups of your bra, replacing them with her cold, firm hands. In a single motion, she has them spilling out, the straps of your bra falling down your shoulders. She rolls them in the palms of her hands, your back arching as her fingers tweak your nipples, rolling them between her fingers and gently pulling on them.

Shuri presses the pad of her thumb right onto your clit, the pressure making you jerk slightly. She drags it down between your folds, collecting the slick that’s gathered and just spreading it more, taking special care to spread it around your entrance. Your eyes threaten to close at her actions, your jaw becoming slack as heavy breaths leave your mouth; but you’re hellbent on watching everything they do to you. You had been waiting for this moment; you’d be damned if you didn't see everything.

Shuri’s voice is rough but proud as she answers Em’s question. She slows her motions, drawing out the sounds that come from her thumb swirling through your folds.

“She’s practically dripping, and its all for us.”

“And we not wasting a drop of it, are we?”

Instead of answering, Shuri separates her thumb from your clit before lifting it. Before she can get far, Em’s hand is reaching forward to grab it, lowering her head until she can wrap her lips around Shuri’s thumb. She’s positioned right over you, giving you the perfect view of how jaw works as she swirls her tongue around Shuri’s fingers, collecting every inch of your arousal she could.

Em hums as she pulls back, the sound coming from low in her throat and shooting straight to your center.

“Oh, we not wastin’ that.”

Shuri lets go of your necklace, but its only to grab the backs of your knees and hike them into the air. She places a knee on the edge of the couch, pushing your knees towards your ears and just about folding you in half. As if they had communicated without speaking, Em’s hands replaced Shuri’s, keeping your legs suspended.

Needless to say, your flexibility had improved greatly after fucking around with Emerald Haywood and Shuri.

The position has your pussy bared to Shuri in its entirety, clenching around nothing in anticipation for the slight burn of being stretched.

Shuri’s eyes take it all in, dark and half lidded as if intoxicated from the sight, the smell, and the sound alone.

“What's your safe word?”

You can barely get the word out, your breath trembling. Her question only tells you that what's about to happen to you may warrant a safe word. It isn’t surprising, as it was a regular occurrence for both of them to ask for your safe word in separate settings…but being reminded of it while being in the clutches of both Emerald and Shuri had you trembling.

You have the nerve to think that she’ll continue even without you answering the question, but when her eyes, questioning and demanding at the same time, raise and meet yours…you know that it's in your better interest to answer.

“B-button.”

The word is barely out of your mouth before Shuri is wrapping a hand around the dildo and lining it up at your entrance, her eyes not straying from yours for a second.

“You good, ‘bae?”

Em’s voice is soft as she whispers into your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe where your kimoyo earring sits. She shifts so that the crook of her elbow holds your leg, freeing her hand and letting it go back to your breast. She firmly cups your breast in one hand, her fingers rubbing over your nipple slowly. You can only nod in silence, your lips parting and your breath leaving you quickly. Shuri’s eyes meet Em’s as she braces her hands against the back of the couch.

A cry tears from your throat as Shuri snaps her hips forward, burying herself until the base of the strap brushes slightly against your skin. The burn is familiar, as well is the feeling of being stretched close to your breaking point…but it's welcomed.

There’s a slight burn in your legs as they start shaking already, but you don’t have to worry about them moving.

“Open your eyes, babygirl.”

“Look at me.”

Both Em and Shuri’s voices ring out at the same time and your eyes open, not wanting to disobey either one of them. You hadn’t even noticed that they had closed, too engrossed in the feeling of Shuri firmly situated between your walls while Em’s hands worked you over, adding a layer of pleasure that penetrated your entire consciousness.

Your lips move soundlessly, your breath being stolen by the waves of pleasure wracking your body and lighting every nerve of yours on fire. You want to beg Shuri to just move- you want to feel the length of her hitting every spot it could reach inside you…but she just stays still, buried fully inside of you.

“Use your words, mamas.”

Emerald’s voice reminds you that you answer to both of them tonight, and its with great difficulty that you find your voice.

“I want you. Fuck, use me. Use me, use me-”

That was evidently all Shuri needed to hear.

Her fingers close around the necklace she gifted you, pulling you forward just enough for you to have the perfect view of her disappearing into you before pulling out and slamming back in. Every stroke makes you jerk slightly, though you can’t go far due to both of their grips on you.

The desperation and lust in your voice makes a quick breath leave Em, her own pussy throbbing slightly as she watches her princess drill into her babygirl. She can hear her own breaths, slightly louder than usual, as she quickly raises her fingers to her mouth, quickly swiping her tongue over them.

She only has to lean forward slightly to reach what she’s been wanting to touch all day.

Your legs threaten to close as her fingers land on your clit, but Shuri’s hand grabbing your ankle stops that from happening. In doing so, it only allows her to hit a different angle…a different spot; one that has black spots entering your vision.

Incoherent words leave your mouth at the overstimulation that's quickly building, forming a ball of heat in your stomach. It’s almost too much, having that one spot hit over and over, relentlessly, while Em worships your clit with only her fingers.

“Oooh, baby. I’m bout…I can’t. Em, please, I can’t hold it…”

Your words are slurred as your head lolls back. It lands in the crook of Em’s neck and she takes the chance to wrap her slender fingers around your jaw, tilting your head back more to where she can whisper directly into your ear. Her breath is hot as it brushes against your skin, and the small sensation makes another whine leave your throat.

“Yes, you can. Take it. Take it, babygirl.”

Her words only push you closer to the edge, making your moans rise in volume until…well, until you’re sure you’ll have to apologize to your neighbors in the morning.

There are a multitude of sounds echoing through the space around you; the sound of Shuri’s thighs slapping against your ass, the soft squelching that comes from her strap entering your pussy, her heavy breaths that she emphasizes each stroke with, Em’s whispered words that alternated between demands and words of praise.

Shuri can’t stop the sounds of pure lust from leaving her own lips as she drills into you. Her eyes rake down your body, lingering on the way your bare chest heaves and how the thin layer of sweat reflects the lights above you. They zero in on the way Em’s fingers rub relentlessly at your clit, slipping slightly because of how wet you are.

They zero in on how your hand lands on the back of Em’s neck, your acrylics digging slightly into her skin to hold her closer…and they zero in on the look of pure adoration, love, and lust in your half-lidded eyes as you look at her.

She can tell by the way you’re mumbling incoherently, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, that your orgasm is close to washing completely over you. While she loves to hear you whimper and plead for sweet release, knowing that she had you right under her thumb, she has to admit that the sight of you cumming is a sight that she’ll never grow tired of. Its the desire to see exactly that which makes her push your leg back further, opening you up even more and drilling almost impossibly deeper.

“Shuri, ‘m bout to cum. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop-”

“You gon cum? Hm?”

Em’s fingers speed up, enough to make your bottom half tremble with how fast her motions are.

“Didn’t we say you have to beg for it?”

Shuri’s words don’t affect her motions at all; if anything, they only intensify. It makes the cry that had slowly been building in the base of your throat leave your mouth, hoarse and full of pleasure.

“Please! Please, can I cum- please, let me, I can’t-”

There are tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as they shut tightly, making you miss the look shared between Emerald and Shuri.

Its easy for the both of them to share in a feeling of desire, as they both harbored a need to take care of you…and to fuck you so well you wouldn’t be able to remember your own name.

They communicated silently, only talking to you after they both gave subtle nods to each other.

“Let go. Let go, usana.”

Almost immediately, your orgasm washes over you, stealing your breath and making your body lock up. Your back arches off of the couch as your hand scrambles to grab something, eventually landing on Shuri’s wrist. It feels like it lasts for a few minutes, at least, and the entire time, you have to focus on not passing out. Its so intense that you can barely hear both Shuri and Em as they talk you through it.

You can feel Shuri as she continues to slowly pump into you, every detail on the strap rubbing deliciously against your walls, and you can still feel Em as she slows her movements down, only slightly, as she continues rubbing at your overstimulated clit.

It’s only after your body sags against the couch once again, breaths heavy and hard to control, that they both stop their movements. Shuri slowly slides out of you, making a small noise leave your mouth at the empty feeling that follows.

She lowers herself onto the couch beside you, her eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort or dissatisfaction only to find nothing but something she would liken to ecstasy.

Em slowly brings her fingers to a stop, reveling in how slick they are, and reveling in the fact that it all belonged to you. She lets her wet fingers brush over any skin they come across as she drags her hand up your sweat covered body before gently lowering your legs . She uses the same hand to turn your face towards hers, your eyes fluttering as you tried to find her through your blurry vision.

“You good, ‘ma?”

You can only nod, an affirming tone escaping your throat. Ignoring the fact that your limbs are so heavy you can’t exactly move them yet and the realization that your legs will most definitely be nonfunctional tomorrow, you’d say that you were in a blissful state.

“How is she?”

Your vision clears just enough for you to see the satisfied smile on Em’s face as she looks at you, and it makes a groggy, tired grin appear on your face. She leans in, connecting her lips with yours for a few seconds before pulling back and planting another kiss on your forehead.

“She’s good. A lil out of it…but she’s good.”

‘Out of it’ is probably an understatement.

A soft laugh leaves Shuri’s mouth as her hand fixes your necklace around your neck, her fingers running gently over the small marks the necklace made in your skin. The sensation makes your head loll to the side to find her eyes, and when you do, her smile widens.

“What do you need, usana?”

You were coherent enough to recognize both of their questions as the same ones they asked after fucking you separately. The realization that you really had the best of both worlds within this relationship made your grin widen and made your heart soar.

“I’m okay. Just…stay here, both of you.”

That was something they both were eager to do, and it was evident in their actions. Shuri reaches down, grabbing her discarded sweatshirt before helping you sit up and pull it over your body. Em stands, making her way to the bathroom and grabbing a washcloth on the way only to quickly come back with it soaked in warm water.

She sits on the other side of you, taking notice of how quickly Shuri had unfastened the strap and set it to the side. The princess looks up and at Em, a fond and loving look on her face that’s undoubtedly a result of seeing the dopey smile on your face. Em shakes her head in amusement as she lowers herself onto the couch before using the wash cloth and cleaning between your legs. The feeling makes you jump slightly as it brushes against your sensitive bundle of nerves, Em gently reassuring you that she’s basically done before she even started.

The wash cloth is set somewhere, but you can only focus on the feeling of pure relaxation that's taking over your limbs, making a small yawn escape your mouth and your eyes close.

Your limbs are maneuvered by two sets of hands until you’re laying on someone’s chest, your body pressing along the line of theirs with their arm around your shoulders. The light scent of sage and lavender tells you that you’re laying on top of Shuri, and you look forward to the feeling of Em joining you, but a few seconds pass without that happening.

“How the hell we all gon fit on this couch?”

“We’ll figure it out. Come, my gem. You know you want to join.”

There’s a teasing tone in Shuri’s voice as she addresses Em, and you can feel one of her arms lift to presumably beckon her closer. Without even lifting your head, you reach out blindly until you grab onto her hand. You pull until her legs hit the couch, and only then do you scoot until you’re pressed against the back of the couch, making room for her to join.

“If I fall, I’m gettin on both of y’all’s asses.”

Your lips curve into a smile at her words and at the feeling of the couch dipping further. An arm is thrown around your waist, and the feeling of comfort intensifies as you’re embraced by the two people who hold your heart between them.

Shuri loves the early morning sunrise that your studio apartment gets in the morning. The floor to ceiling windows does wonders for allowing natural lighting into your space, and she’s found herself sitting in the space right in front of the clear glass, where the wooden floor of the main room meets the little one-two steps that lead into the tiled kitchen area. It’s where the light shines the brightest, where the heat of the suns beams is strongest.

Shuri communes with herself here, whenever she visits you. Early in the morning while you're still fast asleep, curled in your blankets and pillows just like you were now, Shuri takes the time to sneak away into the warm little spot on the floor, to meditate, to ground herself, to just think.

But sometimes, Shuri thinks too much.

She thinks of everything, and she thinks of nothing. Millions of thoughts plague her mind every day and every night, even protruding into her dreams, on the rare occasions she does have. It’s only in your arms that the thoughts quiet down, and the voices are held at bay, but they aren’t kept away for long. Because at some point, she’ll have to face them again, and they will consume her, and you aren’t always in her corner when she needs you to take them away.

So, she’s learned to sit with them. Let them overwhelm her brain like static. Eventually, they calm down, and she can breathe again. And it's mornings like these, where she sits in the glow of the morning sun, where the thoughts aren’t so loud, and Shuri’s mind is at ease, that she enjoys the most.

“What’chu doin’ up this early, princess?”

Her voice comes first - rich, smooth, slightly raspy from sleep, and for a moment. It’s addictive, especially now that she’s had the pleasure of hearing it in person, and not from her holographic screen next to her bed from the three of you falling asleep on call together.

Then, comes the gentle touch of her hand - short french-tipped nails brush against Shuri’s cheek and the warmth of her open palm causes the princess’s head to lean into it. She stands behind Shuri, and it takes all of her to not lean back into the other woman’s legs.

“Nothing, my gem,” Shuri assures Emerald, as she opens her eyes, greeted by the reflection of her lover caressing her face lovingly, “just thinking.”

Emerald is a sight to see in the morning. Sweats that hang dangerously low on her hips revealing the band of her boxers that are snug on her pelvis, and a loose cropped shirt that hangs off one shoulder. Her hair hangs low, curls obscuring her eyes, and it only makes her look more tempting to the princess.

“Thinkin’ ‘bout what?” Emerald asks, moving to take a seat next to you, her body pointed to Shuri’s, which faces the window.

The princess shrugs, not really knowing the answer herself. “I don’t know, really.”

“Do you think a lot?”

“Unfortunately.”

Emerald hums in response, her hand still resting on Shuri’s cheek. “What about?”

“A lot of things,” Shuri answers, “a lot of things that would certainly overwhelm you, or (Y/N).”

“So, princess things?”

“Princess things…and then some.”

A soft chuckle escapes both of their lips, with a smile that stays on Emerald’s as she takes in Shuri’s appearance. She still had on the same sweatpants as yesterday, as well as the sports bra, but the sight couldn’t be any more delicious to the dark skinned woman. It didn’t help that her eyes were half-lidden and her curls were a mess, a sure sign that the princess was still riddled with sleep.

“I don’t like thinking sometimes,” Shuri mutters after a moment. Emerald hums once more, urging her to continue.

“It’s too much to think, sometimes. People expect me to, though. To think, to have all the answers. I do- well, not all the answers to everything, but I do get answers. But I also get overwhelmed. Sometimes…I wish someone else could do the thinking for a while. Let my brain get quiet for a bit. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have to think, but I’m sure, compared to now, it was pleasant.”

Shuri mumbles on, and Emerald takes into account her body language as she speaks - she’s relaxed, but still slightly rigid. She can see it in the way Shuri’s stomach is tense, possibly with anxiousness. Emerald understands why, even though she jokes about it often; she knows the job of a royal isn’t easy, especially for Shuri. She think’s for everyone and has no outlet of her own to turn to.

“You don’t wanna think for a while, right?”

Shuri pauses for a moment, before nodding her head ‘yes’ in response.

“I can make that happen for you, princess.”

Before Shuri has a chance to question Emerald’s statement, she feels her other hand gliding against her midsection in a soothing, almost sultry motion. The low octave of which she spoke made warmth pool into Shuri’s stomach, into her core. Chocolate brown irises bore into each other deeply, tempting each other to lean in.

“I can help you stop thinkin’, is that what you want, baby?”

Shuri nods, this time her reaction is almost immediate. Emerald leans in and captures Shuri’s lips in a breathtaking kiss. It soon turns passionate; Emerald is on Shuri’s lap, and the princess’s grip on her hips is deadly as she whines into the kiss, heat pooling into Shuri's core, begging for attention.

Once the need for oxygen becomes too great, Emerald is the first to pull away, lips swollen and chest heaving from the intensity of the kiss. She stands, pulling Shuri up with her, and places a quick kiss onto the princess’s lips while tugging at her bottoms.

“Bed. Now.” Emerald demands. “And take these off, too. I’ma be right back.”

Shuri is quick to follow instructions - as Emerald goes to retrieve her strap from her bag in the storage closet, Shuri makes quick work at discarding her clothes and takes back her place on the bed, of which the three of you had retreated to at some point during the night after your previous lovemaking session.

It’s only when she’s back on the bed that she remembers your presence there, too, her eyebrows furrowed together. Although you were a deep sleeper, and can - and have - slept through violent storms and countless other loud actions, was Emerald seriously about to fuck her right next to you?

Out of her peripheral, Shuri sees Emerald return, her sweats discarded and now replaced with the boxer briefs needed for her strap. She makes a trek for the coffee table, grabbing the vibrator case that was discarded there the night prior, and from it, she produces one of the two vibrators from the set. A tiny bullet vibrator, and the sight of it alone forces Shuri to swallow the whine she desperately wants to emit, while she can feel her pussy leaking with anticipation.

Emerald climbs onto the bed, her presence demanding Shuri’s attention, knowing what the princess beneath her is thinking.

“Don’t think ‘bout her,” Emerald says, referencing your sleeping figure, your back turned to them as you snoozed soundly, deep in slumber, “don’t think, baby, just feel, can you do that for me?”

Fuck, Emerald is too good at this. Too good at taking command, too good at picking apart Shuri’s mind.

“Need you to let me in that pretty head of yours, princess. Let me take control,” Emerald leans down onto Shuri’s body, leaving kisses from her lips, trailing down her jawline, into the dip of her neck. It leaves the princess breathless, so much so that she doesn’t even hear when Emerald activates the vibrator.

“You gon’ let me in there, Princess?”

Shuri nods eagerly, but it’s nothing compared to the gasp that leaves her lips when Emerald presses the tiny bullet right onto Shuri’s dripping heat, the unholy noises that come from the vibrations and her slick meeting. The metal of the device is cold at first, but with Emerald’s skillful hands circling the device around Shuri’s clit in agonizingly slow motions, it’s not long before Shuri’s brain becomes muddled and weak.

“Fuck, fuck, Em, please…” Shuri whines when the device is place right onto her clit, which is only encouragement for the other woman to continue. There’s a slight tremble in Shuri’s legs already, and it gets Emerald excited.

“Princess is already goin’ dumb,” she hums affectionately right into Shuri’s ear, and the statement awakens something deep within her that she wasn’t aware was even present, “goin’ dumb over a lil’ vibe?”

Shuri’s ability to speak was stripped from her with Em’s words, even more so when she slipped a digit in between her seeping folds. A silent moan left Shuri’s lips at the added pressure, her head began shifting from side to side, overwhelmed from the littlest of contact.

Emerald pressed soothing kisses onto Shuri’s neck while her digit pumped in and out of Shuri’s folds, a gasp of her own slipping past her lips once she actually got a feel for how wet the princess was. Shuri’s pussy was practically sopping with slick, making her in and out motions seem effortless. There was so much, she was surprised her entire hand wasn’t covered with it. It was too tempting - Emerald had to have a taste.

Shuri’s eyes were closed, too caught up in the feeling of pleasure. The sudden absence of Emerald’s face in her neck made the princess whine, but it was soon replaced with a silent scream when the vibrator that had been abusing her clit for the past few minutes was removed, and replaced with Emerald’s tongue.

“Oh, fuck, n-no, Em, please-” but it was too late. The vibrator deactivated and discarded, Emerald’s now free hand went to place itself on top of Shuri’s abdomen, steadying the princess’s desperate attempts at shying away, but Emerald wasn’t having it. She added another digit, picked up the pace, and started curling her fingers inside Shuri’s velvety walls, trying to pinpoint the spot that would have her legs trembling. And when Emerald did find it, and started brushing it mercilessly while her tongue did wonders on Shuri’s clit, the princess couldn’t control the volume of her voice anymore.

“Em, em, I’m cumming-” Shuri whines, her eyes beginning to swell with tears of overwhelming pleasure, “please- please, I can’t- oh, Bast, I’m cumming, I’m cumming-!”

Emerald’s assault on Shuri’s pussy remained ruthless as the princess rode out her high, the blinding pleasure being taken out on the poor sheets and Emerald’s poor curls, but the sting only edged Emerald on further. It took everything in Shuri to not let the Black Panther strength overtake her as her legs closed around Emerald’s head, tremors racking through her limbs in waves. IT’s only when Shuri is coming down that Emerald’s actions begin to slow to a halt.

Emerald lifts her head to see Shuri, spent and breathless, her chest heaving from the intensity of her climax. She’s so effortlessly beautiful, it drives Emerald insane. She slowly pulls her fingers from Shuri’s fluttering core, making the princess’s legs close once again and her core clench around nothing. The lack of presence inside of her makes her whine, but Emerald has plans to fix that soon.

When Shuri opens her eyes once again, the sight before has the slick between her legs pooling once again. Emerald has brung the fingers which were previously buried deep inside of her to her lips, relishing in Shuri’s delectable taste. It’s a sight that has Shuri’s head falling back onto the pillow, desperate for Emerald’s touch once again.

Said woman climbs her way back up to Shuri’s face, taking care to glance at your figure to make sure you were still sleeping. Once your figure is confirmed to be still fast asleep, Emerald plants a series of kisses onto Shuri’s lips, of which the princess returns just as eagerly. “You good, princess?”

Shuri is too breathless to speak, so all that comes out in response is a nod and a short whine, which makes Emerald chuckle. “Got you so dumb, can’t even speak.”

Her words have an intense heat creep up Shuri’s neck, because she knew part of it was true. “That’s fine. I’ll just learn your body instead.”

Shuri jumps when the tip of the cool silicone brushes against her sensitive clit, another whine emitting from her lips. She’s about to question when did Emerald have time to slip the strap into place in her boxers, but the other woman is already a step ahead of her. She’s stroking Shuri’s thighs as she gets them into position, helping the princess relax, even though the events of her previous orgasm are still present in the light trembles that run through Shuri’s legs.

“Hold ‘em back for me baby,” it’s so embarrassing, but Shuri complies, holding the back of her knees in the crevice of her elbow, bearing her sopping wet heat to Emerald, and she all but gasps at the sight of such a pretty pussy on display just for her. It’s nothing compared to the pictures and videos she was blessed with until now, and Emerald takes her time drinking in the sight. Though it’s not long before Shuri gets needy again, and Emerald has to shush the princess with promises of taking care of her soon enough.

“Need you to do somethin’ for me, princess,” Emerald says, as she aligns the strap to Shuri’s entrance, lubricating the silicone with the other woman’s cum and slick, “Need you to focus on my strap, okay? Don’t think ‘bout nothin’ else, you hear me?”

Emerald’s hand rubs soothing strokes along Shuri’s inner thigh; the princess nods with a hum, but it’s not enough for Emerald this time. “Use your words for me, baby.”

“I will,” Shuri chokes out, “I’ll focus on the- oohh my god-!”

In the midst of Shuri’s response, Emerald pressed the silicone strap between Shuri’s folds, and she and Shuri watch as it disappears into the princess. Shuri wants to shout, scream, but nothing comes out of her throat, so she’s left in a silent scream as the overwhelming feeling of being filled by Emerald consumes her entire being.

Emerald buries herself to the base, her stomach brushing ever so gently against Shuri’s sensitive clit, and it makes the princess jerk and the strap inside of her to move ever so slightly, and Shuri is seeing stars.

She feels it, everything in its entirety. The veins that run the length of Emerald’s strap, the tip of it that is oh so close to brushing against that spongy spot of pleasure. And she’s full, so incredibly full and stuffed that there’s nothing else her mind can even begin to think about. Her brain has been emptied of everything else, and the only thing in it is Emerald, and how deliciously she's filling her.

Shuri can’t speak, and Emerald doesn’t force her to. Instead, she takes note of Shuri’s body language, allowing that to be her guide on how to proceed. Once Shuri has calmed down from the overwhelming sensation, and she begins to release noises of desperation, Emerald begins to move.

Her pace is slow and steady, but even so, it has Shuri belting out mewls of pleasure, incoherent babbles spewing from her lips, and it’s here that Emerald confirms she has officially made Shuri dumb for her dick, and the thought alone boosts her ego to incredible heights.

Though Emerald is enraptured by the pants and moans that are spilling out from Shuri’s lips, she can’t help but notice that there’s another spill of them, and when she turns to check on your supposedly sleeping figure, she finds you, in fact, not sleeping, but very much caught up in your own pleasure, with one hand fondling your breast, and the other rubbing circles into your own clit.

It causes her to chuckle, seeing you so easily worked up out of your sleep, and while she maintains her long, languid strokes into Shuri, she reaches over to you, surprising you when her two digits slip right into your slippery heat with ease.

Soon you and Shuri are moaning messes, so close to coming undone together, when Emerald has the best idea she’s ever had in her life.

“Shuri, baby, open your eyes for me,” and Shuri obliges, being met with the delicious sight of Emerald looking down at her with so much love and desire, and in following down her outstretched arm, she sees you, utterly lost on Emerald’s fingers pumping in and out of you as well.

“Can my princess come pleasure my babygirl? While I fuck you from behind? Can you do that for me?”

Emerald doesn’t even have to ask, because the minute she retracts her strap and her hands from both you and Shuri’s core, the princess makes quick work to settle herself between your legs, immediately dipping down to lick and suck at your clit, and you release a desperate, “Haaa, fuck, please…-!” when Shuri’s long fingers slip into your core to replace Emerald’s.

Not a moment passes before Emerald is right behind Shuri, once again aligning herself with the other woman's entrance, and Shuri releases a long, drawn out, “Fuuucckk,” when Emerald slips back inside of her with ease. She picks up her pace, her strokes causing the princess to jerk forward with every thrust, which in turn causes delicious friction against your clit as Shuri’s tongue laps and sucks as it with hunger. Heavy moans and high-pitched whines fill the tiny yet luxurious studio apartment, and as Shuri was still reeling from her last orgasm, it’s only natural that she’s also the first to feel the knot in her stomach tightening once again.

“Shuri, Shuri please, I wanna cum…!” you beg, which only insights her own spiel of whimpering for release, “fuck, fuck, I’m cumming, Em, I’m cumming again!”

And Emerald would be lying if she said she wasn’t feeling one coming for herself, too, because delivering these back shots to Shuri had the edge of the base of the strap brushing against her own clit just right in these boxers. She couldn’t hold out for long. None of them could.

“You gon’ cum for me, princess?” Emerald slurs, and Shuri’s hums of response in such a beautiful, lust filled voice has the dark skinned woman drunk, desperate to hear more. “You gonna make babygirl cum, too?”

“Pleeaaseee, wanna cum, wanna cum so bad, please!” Your squeal of desperation doesn’t go unnoticed by either woman, and it’s Emerald’s whispers of praise - ‘make us cum, princess’, ‘you’re doin’ so good, baby’, ‘fuck, you makin’ me feel that shit, baby’ - that drive Shuri over the edge.

Shuri cums once more, no, she squirts this time, her orgasm spraying all across the sheets and Emerald’s bottom half. You’re soon to follow, releasing right into Shuri’s mouth, and the princess drinks every last of your release. And Emerald is the last, her strokes becoming uncoordinated and unsteady as a sign of her impending climax, and it’s with one last thrust that she stills inside of Shuri, allowing herself to be overwhelmed by the intensity of her own orgasm.

It takes a moment, but all three of you collapse back onto your respective places on the bed - Shuri in the middle, you on the right, and Emerald on the left, closest to the wall. In synchronized heaving and shared glances of love and adoration for one another, a smile graces on each of your faces.

“Well, if I ain’t know any better, I’d say this is a great morning,” hums Emerald, who is the first to recover. You and Shuri, still spent - Shuri more so, as she endured not one, but two earth shattering orgasms - release breathless laughs of agreement to the dark skinned woman.

“Goodmorning, my love,” Shuri hums, “and yes, great morning, my gem.”

“G’morning…” you yawn.

And what a good morning it was.

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