#drowning him friday | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

slytherinslut0 · 7 months

Text

MATTHEO RIDDLE ONESHOT- We Aren’t Over

VOTERS RESULT FROM MY POLL<3 XOXO ENJOY

Info: FWB gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off.

Word count: 4.5k

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, PIV, FWB, Praise Kink, Degradation Kink, Begging, Teasing, Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Good Sex

"You look so fucking sexy..."

large hands belonging to an admittedly handsome Ravenclaw student that you failed to acquire the name of gripped your hips; firmly pulling you against his tall body as his lips grazed your ear, hot whiskey breath washing over you, intoxicating you even further than you already were.

One hand slid around to your ass, gripping a palmful of the plump flesh over the fabric of your Slytherin uniform skirt. Your breath hitched in your throat as he nipped your earlobe, teeth tugging gently on your emerald earring, his voice a low reverberation down your spine.

"I'd love to rip that awful fucking uniform off of you and get a taste of what you're hiding under there..."

Your cheeks burned, warmth flooding you as you chewed on your lip, bringing your mouth toward his own ear now as the two of you could hardly hear yourselves think amidst the blaring music coming from the speakers in the out-of-control Friday night Slytherin party, green flashing lights blurring your vision further than the alcohol was as you squinted to try and get a better glimpse of his face.

In your intoxicated state, you couldn't recognize this guy for the life of you. The only thing that gave away his Ravenclaw status was his uniform.

"I'd be careful with your next words there, little Raven," you purred, your unsteady fingers finding his shoulders. "I promise you, you'll regret coming into my house and disrespecting my emblem like that..."

Gods, you were fucking hammered, but since you and your friends-with-benefits had called things off last weekend; you'd been desperate to find someone new to hopefully satisfy you just as well as he did--but admittedly, your hopes were low.

Not many boys knew your body like the back of their hand, or knew exactly how to drive you sexually insane, the way Mattheo fucking Riddle did.

"Is that so?" His grip on your body tightened, a deep groan leaving his throat as he pressed his lips to your jaw. "I'm not quite sure a poor little serpent like you is any match for a big bad raven like me..."

"You'd be surprised," you retorted, slowly threading your fingers through his thick brown hair. "It's been proven that even the most intelligent birds couldn't elude the cunning serpent's snare..." you tilted your head, smirking. "But go on, underestimate me...that'll be fun."

His eyes widened, the darkness inside his pupils boring into you, drowning you in their endless voids. Your stomach twisted as your sight locked in with his, and you took a moment to analyze his features a little better. Gods, he looked so fucking much like Mattheo.

Why was it that you could never seem to get that fucking guy out of your head?

You were convinced that you were going to die one day with his gorgeous fucking face still haunting you--those dark penetrating eyes, that devilish, seductive smirk--that messy mop of chocolate curls that sat effortlessly adorable over his forehead. Fuck, you hated him.

You hated him for fucking you so good you couldn't stop fucking thinking about him; even after the endless bickering and arguing the two of you had been going through over the last few weeks, causing a consensual end to your hookups--you hated him for occupying your mind even while you were pressed up against an undeniably sexy new guy, who clearly had a deep interest in you, who clearly wanted to fuck you until your legs gave out.

You should be happy right now, you should be overly fucking ecstatic, practically brimming with relief as the Ravenclaw guy leaned in, pressing his lips to yours and capturing your mouth in a sloppy, intoxicated kiss; his tongue slipping past your teeth as his hands gripped your ass with enough force to bruise--you should be completely fucking overjoyed as your lids fluttered shut, your mouths working over the others with a little too much desperation as you stood in the middle of the crowded common room, fervent fingers gripping onto each other as though your lives depended on it.

You should be happy, but you're not.

When you broke the kiss, the Ravenclaws brows furrowed, but before he had a chance to ask you to his dorm, and in a hopeful attempt at subtly saving yourself, you brought your lips toward his ear, trying to sound as sexy and inconspicuous as possible. "Why don't you get us some drinks?"

When he smirked, nodding in agreement, he graced your ass with one last squeeze before he spun around, making his way across the room and heading toward the bar station. You watched him as he went, and as soon as he had disappeared within the sea of inebriated bodies; you let out a long, exasperated breath; spinning on your heel to quickly make your way to the bathroom and away from that spot before he returned.

Sure, you felt bad for ditching him like that, but he was just as drunk as you were. He'd forget you even existed by the morning.

As you shoved your way through the endless amounts of drunk, sweaty bodies, you'd almost successfully broke through the crowd when a strong, firm grip wrapped around your wrist; hot breath washing over your neck as a tall body pressed against your backside--a height so towering and presence so intoxicating you already knew, without hearing his voice or seeing his face, that it could only be one fucking man.

"Where you headed, princess?" Mattheo's deep, husky drawl rolled through your eardrums like honey; a slow, thick, and admittedly fucking seductive pitch. "You're not really going to ditch that poor bastard after getting him going like that, are you?"

You turned your head, trying to glimpse him over your shoulder, fighting to hide your smirk. "I don't see how that's any of your business, Riddle."

"Ouch...one week without my cock and we're already back to second name basis, huh?" His grip tightened, his body heat enveloping you, his plush lips pressed tight against your ear. "I'm just surprised...you looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"Stalking me, are you?" You scoffed, trying to pry your wrist from his hold but he tightened his grip even further, other hand snaking around to your hip. "Is the big heartless Riddle boy jealous?"

He chuckled, and you could almost see the smirk on his lips. The feeling of his chest rumbling against your back did inexplicable things to your cunt. Gods, you hated how you were already fucking melting for him and you haven't even taken one single look at his face.

"Were you thinking about me?" He purred, teeth nipping at your ear, the arrogance in his tone igniting flames in your veins. "When his tongue was halfway down your fucking throat, were you wishing it was mine?"

"Give me a break, Mattheo." Your head was spinning, oxygen evaporating; but you knew you needed to play it off. "Don't fucking flatter yourself."

"You know you love the things I fucking did to you..." by this point his voice was a low growl, his tone so deep and dark in your ear it sent shudders skittering down your spine. "You know you'll search for me in every single sad sack you try to distract yourself with."

Heat flashed your face, his fingers digging into your hip with enough force to bruise. "Jealous of a Ravenclaw...must be a tough pill to swallow for the Slytherin prince-"

When his teeth sunk into your earlobe with enough force to basically tell you to shut up without actually saying it, you yelped--eyes fluttering shut as he tugged you back against him with added force.

"Keep talking, princess, and I won't hesitate to walk over there and rearrange his fucking face..." he spat the words through barred teeth, your bones shaking with the deep vibration. "Do you even know his name? Huh? Do you even know who the fuck he is?"

Gods, you were cursing yourself. As if you were about to fold for this man after he'd basically told you to fuck off and leave him alone no less than a week ago. Your brain knew, above all else, that what you were about to do was completely fucking wrong--but your cunt paid no mind to your brains protests. Your cunt wanted Mattheo Riddle.

"No, Matty, I don't..." you whispered, tilting your head to give him better access to you neck. "Lots of night left, though...I'm sure I'll be quite familiar with it when I'm screaming-"

He sunk his teeth into your neck now, forcing a sharp squeal from your lips--another commanding gesture to silently warn you that if you kept talking, he was going to fucking lose it. Part of you hoped he would.

"What have I told you about saying my fucking name like that, princess..." he growled, licking a flat strip up the side of your throat. Fuck, you loved that tongue. That skilled, tentative fucking tongue. "And if you keep talking like that, the only thing you'll be screaming is for me to stop when I'm beating his fucking face into the floor..."

His words made you fucking shudder, a full body tremor against his built chest, entirely unable to control yourself now. The need between your thighs was becoming more insistent by the second, and at this point--you were at a complete loss for words; your lips involuntarily uttering the one word you knew you'd never forget how to say, regardless of how speechless you were.

His name. "Mattheo..."

"There she is..." he murmured, the praise in his tone making your breath hitch in your lungs. "Aren't you glad you met me? I know you got me stuck inside your memory..."

Long fingers slipped under the fabric of your shirt, grazing over your stomach. Bodies were everywhere, drunk students around you paying absolutely no mind to the intoxicated sins the two of you were about to commit.

"No," you uttered, so quiet you weren't even sure if he'd heard it. "I want you out of my fucking head..."

He purred in satisfaction, revelling in the fact you'd finally admitted to missing him. "Should've listened to me, princess...told you I was bad for you..."

More heat swarmed you, your thighs screaming; begging in need. "We can't keep doing this...it's so wrong, Matty..."

"But it feels so right, doesn't it?" His hand around your wrist snuck down to your hip, his other pressed against your stomach; pulling you tighter against his crotch--your breath evaporated when you felt his aggressive bulge against your ass. "Feel that, princess? That's what you fucking do to me..."

He pressed his lips to your pulse, teeth softly grazing over it, and you mewled; head falling back against his shoulder, body melting into his own--surrendering yourself to his intoxicating dominance just as you've done time and time before.

"I hate myself for letting you do this to me..." you breathed, head rolling to the side as his teeth worked purple possession marks into your skin. "I'm so stupid for you..."

"That's it, admit it, baby...admit that you missed this..." his grip tightened, tone thickened with lust. "You're my little devil, you know I'd sin for you..."

At his words, your entire body ignited into pure fucking flame, magma replacing the blood that flowed through your veins; threatening to melt your uniform and leaving you in nothing more than a pile of ash at his feet. You were done talking, you needed his fucking cock.

"Are we gonna quit the talking and do something about it then, hm?" You purred, tilting your head back to meet his eyes for the first time; your head spinning as you drowned in the dark hurricane of their desire. "Show me how you'd sin for me, Matty..."

"I'll show you, baby, I'll fucking show you..." he said, wetting his lips as he held your stare. "Your dorm or mine?"

Music to your fucking ears. "Yours."

Without another word, Mattheo gripped your wrist, his hold like a snake, slithering around you gently at first; slowly increasing its pressure until he'd cut the blood flow, threatening suffocation of your lungs and leaving you with only hungry, primal desire--eradicating all thoughts of just how horrible of an idea you knew this was. He dragged you out of the common room and toward his dorm, not sparing you a single glance as he ripped open the door and pulled you inside; slamming your back up against it as it closed, one hand snaking toward the lock and clicking it tight into place.

When he paused, two hands finding residence against the wood on either side of your head; not moving, only staring, it was as though the rest of the world faded away--and all that was left was the cunning, messy brown haired boy in front of you. His presence filled the room, suffocating you, stopping your heart mid-beat. He loomed over you, toes centimeters from your own, chest so close that you both would touch with a deep enough breath.

You scanned his body, heart pounding, palms sweating from the impending reality of your desire, and he smirked, leaning closer.

"I don't think I can allow another man to lay a fucking finger on you ever again..." he whispered. "I don't think that perfect fucking pussy can belong to anyone fucking else."

"Since when did it belong to you, Matty?" You shuddered, deciding to test him a bit. "I thought we were just casual-"

"You think anyone else could fuck you stupid like I do?" You could practically feel his fingernails digging into the wood beside your head, the anger building in his eyes. "How about your exes? How'd they fuck you, huh?"

Your throat tightened. "Mattheo-"

"Say it." He growled, leaning closer--so close your noses brushed. "You want me to make you fucking cum, princess? Say that little pussy is mine."

Gods, curse your fucking insatiable need to get fucked. At this point, you were fully cognizant of the fact that this man could make you say damned-near anything if it meant he'd get inside you. Swallowing your ego, you met his stare--as intense as it had ever felt--and licked your lips.

"It's yours, Matty..." you murmured. "It's all yours."

Mattheo Riddle smirked. "That's fucking right."

Unable to decide between indignant and patronized, you eschewed both, and instead opted to hook your fingers into his belt, pulling yourself into him while you boosted yourself on your tiptoes to meet his lips with your own. Your kiss was hungry and demanding as you sought to memorize his mouth with your tongue. Mattheo's large hands cupped your face, fingers delving into your hair while he pressed into you, forcing you back tighter against the door.

You groaned against his lips, writhing underneath him while you slid your tongue along his teeth, seeking to know every part of him, needing him to want you--to fucking need you like you needed him. Mattheo drew in a breath through his nose and pushed deeper, like he wanted to fuse you with the door, and your hands shot into his hair, a shiver running through you as you felt how soft, how luxurious it was between your fingers.

Another soft groan rumbled in your chest, and--having distant, fuzzy deja vu of the countless encounters prior--you wrapped the curly tendrils of his hair around your fingers and yanked it.

At that, a deep moan left his throat, and he pulled back, waves of harsh breath crashing over him. His blackened eyes darted across your face, switching between your lips and eyes. "Fucking naughty little thing..." he huffed, smirking.

"For you, always," you murmured, and he groaned, wetting his lips as he leaned closer.

"Fuck-that's right...I love it when you're bad...you only act this way for me, huh?" His voice was a low purr, warm breath crashing your face. "That why you didn't fuck him? That why you ran?"

Chewing your lip, you nodded, and tugged his hair again, bringing him to your mouth once more.

He smirked against you and his hands fell to your hips, roaming the swell of your curves before gripping the underside of your thighs and hiking you onto the door. Immediately, the aching length in his pants ground into your center while his tongue fought its way into your mouth. Without you having to think, your legs circled him, and your hips were grinding back, pursuing any friction and heat you could find.

You peeled away to catch a breath, hands resting in his hair, and his lips went to work on your neck, suckling and nibbling the skin there.

"Matty...please..." you murmured, already begging for something, anything. "I need you."

Snuffing a groan, Mattheos grip bruised your hips as he bucked into you, grinding you against the door.

"You want me to fuck you, slut?" he said, breath hot on your neck. "Didn't get enough of my cock last time?"

"No-fuck-I didn't," you mewled, a slight embarrassment washing over you. "It's never enough."

Mattheo growled, his grip hardening to iron, and he licked a warm, wet line along your pulse. "That's right...that's what I like to hear..."

Sinking his teeth into your neck, he pushed off the door, walking over toward his bed as he held you against his chest. You watched the door get further and further away, lust building and growing in your chest as he nipped your jawline before grazing his lips over yours again, softly and briefly as he reached the edge of his mattress and laid you back against it.

When you hit the bed, he kept his mouth on yours while his hands left your waist; fervent fingers finding the fabric of your button up blouse and untucking it from your skirt, cold hands slipping underneath and groping your tits through your bra--a deep groan leaving his chest as you bucked your hips up against his crotch; wanting him closer, needing him closer.

His hands slid back down, finding the hem of your skirt and flipping it up your stomach, wasting zero fucking time before he hooked his thumbs around the band of your thong and peeled them down your thighs. The minute you were exposed, you heard the clatter of his belt buckle hitting the floor, and your pussy throbbed.

"Matty..."

Mattheo chuckled, the weight of his stare resting on your naked pussy; wallowing in your clear desperation for him.

"Look at you," he murmured. "So fucking wet." He released a long breath--he was testing his own patience, now. "This perfect body can't help but to crave me..."

You groaned as he teased your inner thigh with one hand, the other working to peel his shirt off his torso in one swift movement--exposing his hard, firm fucking abs and leaving him looming before you in just black briefs--looking as delicious and sexy as you've ever goddamn seen him.

As his long fingers ghosted over your folds, you arched, groaning when he brushed past it toward the inside of your other thigh; squirming in slight frustration, admittedly the teasing was absolutely getting to you now.

"Mattheo, I swear to-"

A firm, sharp smack to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh stopped the words in your throat; your stomach twisted as you watched Mattheo's eyes darken and lips curl sadistically.

"Is that how I taught you to ask for what you want?" He sneered, wetting his lips as he met your pleading eyes. "You know what I want to hear, princess."

You winced, swallowing your pride furthermore, until it was eroding in your stomach acid. "Please, Matty...please make me cum..."

His lips parted. "Good girl.”

His hum of approval was followed by the warm kiss of his fingertips along the sensitive lips of your pussy, feathersoft at first, and then one thick finger slipped between your folds, gliding between them, slicking itself with your wetness and grazing the swollen nub of your clit. That did it--blinded with relief, you cracked, moaning deep in your chest. Blood flushed your face, tingling your cheeks.

"You like that?" He brushed the bundle of nerves again, earning another shuddered groan. "You like the way I touch you? The way that pretty pussy responds to me?"

"Yes...Gods, yes..." you replied, the sentence coming without thought.

"That's right..." his free hand wrapped around the back of your thigh, tugging you closer to the edge of the bed, fingers swirling around your clit in tight circles, and you gasped, your mouth dropping in bliss, your rapid panting filling the steamy air.

"Fuck you're so sexy, my dirty little whore in her short little uniform skirt..." a stifled groan cut through his throat, and you shot a glance at him; one hand rubbing his strained erection through his boxers. "It took everything I had not to bend you over the fucking desk in class all week...fuck you know how to test me..."

You cried out, your pussy clenching, craving to be filled by him. "Matty, fuck-please..."

"Please what?" He growled.

Gods, curse him--curse him to bloody hell. You couldn't fucking handle this anymore. You knew he was punishing you, making you fucking beg and shatter and cry for it after what you'd done; and the way his fingers stroked your clit had you spasming, jerking--so close to cumming, you just wanted him inside you.

"Please." You banished all pride and ego and fucking common sense to the perimeter of your mind. Asylum. Just this once. "Please, fuck me...please."

"Tell me I'm the only one." He hissed, slipping a finger inside your wet, throbbing core; your back arching off the mattress as his thumb increased its pace on your clit. "Tell me you'll never let another man put his fucking hands on what's mine."

A cyclone was roaring in your brain, tearing apart coherent trains of thought with primitive, physical clamoring. Your response was pieced together by the efforts of your need for release alone.

"Fuck-no, never, Matty...I'm yours...all fucking yours..."

He was staring at you, face blank, surveying you while you twitched and jerked underneath his ministrations. His focus switched between your pussy--desperately throbbing and melting against his touch--and your red, sweating face, jaw slack from your haze of pleasure. You chewed your lip--it was bruised by now, certainly--clenching hard, and he groaned, pulling his boxers down to let his thick, needy cock spring free.

"Cum for me, slut." He ordered. "Cum for me right fucking now."

As if controlled by a remote in his hands, a tidal wave of euphoria slammed into you, walls pulsing, body wracked with the convulsions of an aggressively pent up orgasm, vision whiting out as you threw your head back, a loud string of unintelligible curses flying from you. Mattheo hummed, hand working you to the end of your orgasm as his free one slowly stroked his cock, watching every tiny ministration of your face with an exasperated expression until he was certain you were past it.

And when he was, he wasted no fucking time before he gripped your ankles in his hands, staring down at you as he began to rock his hips; his hard, throbbing dick sliding between your slit.

"Tell me you want it," he purred. "Beg for it."

You groaned. "Please, I want it Matty…I want you so fucking bad."

With a goddamn suffocatingly arrogant and devilish grin, he braced himself as he sunk into your pussy; your wet walls swallowing his cock with ease as you let loose a long, satisfied moan--Mattheo sucked a breath in through his bared teeth as sheathed himself all the way inside your cunt, pausing there to feel you clench and adjust around him.

"So fuckin' tight..." he groaned, head bowing. "Fuck you feel so good around me."

Your eyes squeezed shut, your fingers finding Mattheo's hands until he gathered both of your wrists and pinned them above your head with just one of his, leaning over you to fuck you deep and hard as his free hand snuck down to your clit. Throttled cries of pleasure were leaking from you, your conscious slipping from reality as he pummelled your pussy like you deserved the pain.

"Fuck, yes," you practically screamed. "You fuck me so good Matty...so deep, fuck-"

A deep snarl roared from Mattheo's chest, his grip on your wrists tightening while he fucked you deeper, harder, your body rocking from the power of his thrusts. You could feel his ragged breath on your face, knew without seeing him that he was above you, lips parted, pupils blown.

"Look at me," he growled. "Let me see those eyes as you fucking cum for me."

Groaning, you obeyed, lids fluttering open to meet his gaze. Mattheo was possessed, looking past you, through you, panting with every snap of his hips. You lost yourself in his stare, the rest of the room falling away, and his fingers moved faster over your clit, bringing you to that precipice once more. Little choked moans left you while your jaw hung slack, his cock pounding into you--then his fingers hit just the right spot, and the massive, asphyxiating pressure inside of you imploded. Mattheo watched you, not even blinking once.

You thought you kept your eyes open, but you weren't sure, because you whited out, spasming and convulsing as your orgasm wracked your every cell, your every nerve, taking you to a height you'd never been to, never thought existed. Distantly, you were aware of your cunt drawing out Mattheo's climax as he cursed and dug his teeth into your shoulder, fucking you harder as he spilled himself deep inside of you.

You hadn't realized what had happened until your spirit returned to your body and you felt the burn of hot, wet tears streaming down your cheeks--evidence of your relief--followed by Mattheo collapsing on top of you, cock buried still inside your pussy, and both of you drank in lungfuls of air, starved for it, your brains fuzzy with the static of euphoria. You both laid there for a moment, rapt in the descent back to reality, until he pushed himself up and pulled out, holding you firmly in his stare again.

As he began to piece his clothes back together, you gathered your composure, pulling yourself up and off his bed, fixing yourself back to some form of decency. As you swallowed, watching Mattheo latch up his belt, he met your eyes again; the dark lust slowly fading, being replaced by an unspoken emotion you couldn't attempt to name.

"This isn't over." He breathed, moving back toward you. "We aren't over."

When your lungs hitched, you nodded, admitting to yourself that you already fucking knew you couldn't live without that. Without him.

"No," you whispered. "We aren't."

#smut #fanfic #harry potter #mattheo x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #mattheoriddlesmut #tom riddle smut #tomriddle smut #riddle smut #theo riddle #mattheo x y/n #theoriddle #Theo smut #mattheo smut

5K notes · View notes

fairy-hub · 5 months

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧’

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: caught maturbating, some mutual masturbating, begging, some fem Dom!reader, switch!toji, some teasing/heavy praise/light degradation, hints of jealousy/possessive, light oral, Daddy/mama/brat/sweetheart, some fingering, some cervix fucking, toji has a fat cock, overstimulation, size kink, light choking

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: touch yourself for me w/ toji pls

Swinging open Toji’s door, “What do you-oh!” Fixing your gaze on Toji’s fat, veiny cock. Toji strokes fat cock slower, slipping his blunt between his lips.

“Don’t mind me keep stroking your fat dick.” Walking up to the edge of his bed, slipping off the shirt you’ve stolen out of his bedroom, dropping it. “I'll enjoy the show.” Holding his blunt out for you to accept.

Pushing your shorts down, getting comfortable on his bed. Spreading your legs apart, stroking your clit through your underwear. Taking a puff, smoke tickling your nose.

Toji’s cock is heavy drooping to the side when he slides his hand down. Smirking, you admire the scar on his lips, wondering if you’d feel it when sitting on his face.

Toji croons, “You came too fast after hearin’ ya name.” Gliding his hand up, swiping his thumb over his head. He’s massively thick, slightly above average in length. His cock is mouth-watering, cunt throbbing underwear soaking beautiful.

“You moan my name like a slut! If I was playing with my clit and I called your name our you'd take your sweet ass time?” Taking another long puff, passing it back to him. His thick finger brushing your’s.

Grabbing some lube, letting his cock go it falls with a soft plop that make your cunt clench. He’s so heavy. “Take your panties off and I might tell ya.” Tilting his head to the side, arching a brow.

“Touch yourself for me n’ beg then I will. I already know you’d be in there before I could finish calling your name.” The cocky look on his face slips, biting his lip. “Look at yourself, a handsome man like yourself with a fat yummy cock that could split anyone in two and thick balls begging to be drained of cum.”

Slipping your hand underneath, gliding your fingers between your legs. Smearing your slit on your clit. “Yet here you are on a Friday night thinking of me. How long does it take of you fucking me in your mind before you can't help it?” Toji groans stroking fat veiny, sliding his hand into his dark hair tugging. Rutting his hips up, he’s a desperate beautiful mess jerking himself off.

Begging, “Lemme see your beautiful cunt mama.” Blushing, Toji whines, “Please! I've been thinkin’ bout ya non stop. No one else gets my dick hard like you do. No matter how many times I touch myself, I see your sweet looking thighs, pretty face, soft lips and I want to make you cream and scream.” Letting go of his hair, grabbing a fistful of the blanket.

Getting off the bed, with your back facing towards him. Hooking your thumb into the side of your underwear looking back over his shoulders. His arm flexes, the veins in his forearm prominent, his cock is drooling thick white pre cum.

He’s a moaning mess because of you. “Please mama you wanna lemme use your sweet cunt to keep my cock wet n’ warm. I'll stretch her out, make her squelch and squirt have your eyes rolling back while your toes curl.” Slowly slipping your underwear down, bending down to pick it up. Turning around, tossing it to Toji.

Holding them to his face taking in a deep breath. “You smell so fuckin’ good n want you to sit on my face and drown me with your sweet super soaker.” Sucking on your underwear like a lollipop, licking it clean wrapping it around his cock.

Stroking your clit, moaning from the sweet pleasure. Touching yourself is better with Toji watching you with intense hungry passio. “Fuck you’re so damn hot Daddy begging me like a slut. You need me to fuck ya that badly?” Curling two fingers into you, soaking them holding your fingers up to Toji’s lip.

Groaning licking your fingers clean, jerking himself off with your underwear wrapped around his head. The idea of him cumming into your underwear shouldn't be so hot. Yet it has you soaking, but you rather he cum in you.

“Fuck a condom I’m good if you are I really need to feel your warm cum.” He tosses your underwear aside, holding his heavy cock up.

Toji croons, “Anything you want mama my cock is all your’s.” Straddling his hips, his tip gliding along your soft wet lips. His is so thick, have you had anyone as big as Toji? Could he fit? The idea of his cock being too big to fit turning your mind to mush.

It’s hard to think of anything else other than Toji and you’ve barely touched him. Bracing yourself, squeezing his thick pec, dragging your nails down his beautiful seemingly sculpted abs.

Slowly sinking down his tip slowly, the sweet burning pleasurable ache of being stretched too wide too fast making you pause and tremble. “Nnn fuck you wanna bounce on my cock like a whore?” Toji grabs your hips roughly sinking you down, holding your still.

“That’s too damn bad touch yourself and beg for me to fuck ya into a mindless slut.” Toji’s such a big man, with broad shoulder, large pecs, a waist that slims in, and muscular thighs keeping your legs spread apart.

His fat cock filling you up, you can acutely feel every pussy vein, the soft texture of his skin. Contrasting to how hard he is, clenching your cock, he throbs. It’s a slight twitch of his fat head that makes your cunt flutter.

“It’s like your beneath my belly button!” Stroking your clit, he glide his large hands up along your sides. Grabbing your neck, barely squeezing. “Nnn you’re so deep! Touching my cervix, it feels so! Nnn I’ve never had such a big cock.” Rubbing your soft nipple with his rough thumb.

Slapping your ass, crying from the sweet stinging pain. Another harsh slap, jerking running away, your cheek burning. Gliding barely an inch out before Toji ruts his hips up, stuffing you full.

You cant get used to how he’s touching your cervix. He shouldn't be so deep, is a strange yet wonderful feeling you need it get used too. “Too deep! Wanna move please fuck me daddy! Fuck me! You can stuff your fat cock in my cunt whenever you want please!” Tighening his grasp around your neck, grabbing your hip.

Slamming you down on the bed, pinning your thigh by your side. Gliding his cock out till his fat tip is all that’s stretching your little hole. Your soft lips around the soft ridge around his head. “Poor lil mama, hearin’ ya say that makes me want to take my time breakin’ ya.” Rocking his hips, roughly fucking his fat cock into your sloppy cunt.

Stroking your sweet spot, the intense waves of tingling pleasure making it hard to think. Clenching his hard cock whining, “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!”

“Mama your tight lil super soaking drenching my cock n’ squeeziin me like that. His heavy balls slap your ass, skin slapping skin your cunt squelching louder. “She’s getting wetter for me, my cock that good huh?”

Letting your neck go, leaning back admiring how your cunt takes every inch. “She’s perfect, made to take every inch of my fat cock.” Stroking your clit, your jaw drops your eyes rolls back.

Gradually stroking your clit faster, until you’re trembling. “Does anyone know how to treat my pretty cunt right?” Keping his pace steady. “Did they play with your sweet little clit when giving you their cock. Or did they expect you to cum from just their cock?” Fucking your cunt harder, keeping the same speed.

“Gonna spoil your cunt and show ya how she’s supposed to be treated.” You love the hungry pleasure etched into Toji’s beautiful features. His lips parting with loud groans, his cheeks flush pink, and the intense passionate hunger in his stunning green eyes is intense.

Pleading with him. “Break my cunt daddy, make it only cum for your fat cock, fuck me into a gapping mess, make me unable to walk!” All you’re able to think about is his fat veiny cock, his deep passionate moans, broad shoulders, thick pecs that bounce with each thrust.

“Whose cunt is this sweetheart?” Adding pressure to your clit, the pleasure borders on painful. Your cunt spasms around his fat cock. “Tell me brat or I'm stopping n’ I know your close, she’s getting so tight around me. Ya wanna cum on daddy’s cock mama, tell me whose sloppy wet tight cunt this is!”

Scratching Toji’s chest whining, “Your’s all your’s! Please daddy I don't want anyone else but you! Please I touch myself thinking about you!” Your eyes roll back, jaw drops, trembling your cunt quivering, toes curling. You’re cumming harder than you ever hard before.

“Fuck I need some more.” Gliding his cock out dipping his face between your legs. Nudging his tongue past your lips, groaning into your sloppy sensitive cunt. Twisting away, he grabs your hips pinning you with a rough groan that boarders on a growl.

“Lemme eat my pretty sloppy cunt, I’m starvin’ mama n’ I want you for dinner” kissing your clit, “n’ dessert.” Sucking on your clit, stroking you with his soft tongue. Pumping two thick fingers.

Oreo creampie’s m.list

2K notes · View notes

cthene · 1 year

Text

Is Fox Mulder the most comically-brutalized protagonist in television history? Not only is he shot and beaten up on a regular basis, but the list of extreme and exotic injuries he accrues over the course of the series has got to be some kind of TV cop record. The man is mind-wiped by the military in only the second episode. For any other TV cop, that would be a career-defining event, but it’s just a day in the life of Agent Spooky.

Bro was cocooned by carnivorous insects, thrown out of a nuclear submarine into the Alaskan tundra by an alien bounty hunter, beaten up by an invisible gorilla. He was experimented on in a Siberian gulag, drowned in the Bermuda Triangle, tortured by Neo-Nazis. I wonder what getting Freaky Friday-ed by a malfunctioning UFO cloaking device does to your gonads. How much radiation has he been exposed to? Someone test this man’s hair follicles. How many mysterious bodily fluids has he dipped his finger in and tasted at crime scenes? Dear God, someone test him for HIV. Imagine being the FBI doctor who administers his physicals.

Remember when the Shadow Government was putting LSD in Mulder’s water tank? Our boy got blown up in an underground train car and resurrected in a Navajo healing ceremony, and that’s not even the last train car he would get blown up in. One time, his lungs were filled with mutated tobacco beetles. Hoss let a quack doctor give him ketamine and drill a hole in his goddamn skull. In an unrelated incident, he had a chunk of his brain stolen. He was locked in a padded cell, trapped inside of a video game, and— of course —abducted by aliens. Fox Mulder was fully dead, and then came back to life after being exhumed, and nobody even seemed that surprised when he rolled up at the J. Edgar Hoover building like nothing had happened.

Am I missing anything? How is this man still alive? His body must be like a pillowcase full of broken lightbulbs. Every time he moves, you just hear crunching.

#the x files #x files #fox mulder #mulder #txf

5K notes · View notes

itgetsdark-x · 2 months

Text

Something In Your Mouth

Summary: what’s a little night out if not for a bit of teasing fun with your dad’s best-friend?

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, mentions of alcohol, age gap (Joel’s age unspecified), oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v (do better!!), edging, orgasm denial, forced orgasm (kinda), use of good girl etc, mild humiliation / degrading. idk i feel a lil unhinged with this one besties.

Characters: dbf!joel miller x (f) reader

Word Count: 5.3k

You pressed your glossy lips together to ensure that the hot pink covered every area of your pout and you smiled at your friend in the reflection of your bedroom mirror.

“Girl, I’m telling you… Tonight is the night that I finally fuck Joel Miller.” You smirked, taking the bottle from your friend, Sasha’s hands and taking a long swig of the warming liquor.

“Ha! Yeah right… Are we on about the same Joel Miller here? Your dad’s friend, the single father himself and what’s that? Oh yeah, he’s ancient, old enough to be your own dad! He won’t touch you, jailbait, give up.” She laughed again as your flipped her off.

“Sash, I am in my mid-twenties, closer to thirty than I am twenty. Not to mention, I’m hot okay?! There are worse women Joel could sleep with. I’m just saying… I think it’s a good idea. I just get big dick energy from him y’know? I mean, have you seen his hands?! His fingers. I actually feel like if I don’t have him soon, I’m gonna go legally insane.” You huffed.

Sasha shook her head as you stood from your bed to get changed. You flung your comfy t-shirt and shorts into your friend’s direction and grabbed the outfit you had hung on your door. Tonight’s attire was an ensemble of a black leather skirt, hot pink tank top and your trusty platform Doc Marten boots.

“Be fucking real right now, that is not your underwear of choice for the evening!” Sasha all but screeched as she caught a glimpse of your undergarments as you began changing your outfit.

“What?!” You asked with feign innocence.

“You’re wearing a hot pink thong with matching bra. Please tell me this is not for Miller.” She sighed with exasperation, pinching at the bridge of her nose.

“Maybe it is… but hey, if Joel doesn’t want some tonight I’m sure some other lucky guy will appreciate the efforts I have gone to.” You shrugged, winking at your friend. “Now, how ‘bout you quit your judging and get changed so we can get to the bar! The girls are meeting us there.”

Sasha groaned with effort as she stood and joined you in getting changed.

———

The bar was busy, you were meeting your friends there to celebrate your upcoming birthday which meant your father was going to be there and in turn, so was Joel. You weren’t a complete idiot, you knew that trying to get with Joel was a huge risk for you both; if your father ever found out, you would most likely be forbidden to ever leave your apartment ever again and well, you couldn’t even imagine what your dad would do to Joel.

Which also meant you had to be calculated with how you went about it; no blatant flirting or teasing in front of your dad, you had to play your cards right, keep them close to your chest.

As soon as you and Sasha arrived into the dimly lit bar, your friends herded over to you and enveloped you in a big hug. You squealed with delight and greeted them all individually before your dad walked over, with the older Miller in tow close behind.

“There’s my princess, happy early birthday, sweetheart.” Your dad beamed, hugging you and kissing your temple.

“Thanks dad, and thanks for actually showing up! I know hanging out with us girls isn’t at the top of your Friday night agenda. Same for you Joel, thanks for coming.” You smiled bashfully at him before he closed the space between you both and gave you a quick squeeze.

Your head span and you could feel your heart threatening to beat right out of your chest, his heady cologne drowning your senses and driving you mad. It was an immediate effect and you couldn’t stop the way your core throbbed at the contact.

“Gotcha a drink darlin’. Happy early birthday.” He flashed a smile in your direction and gave you a glass filled with amber-coloured liquid. “Yes, it’s our favourite. Southern Comfort and lemonade.”

You grinned at him and took a swig of the drink gratefully, just as you turned to talk to your father again, you were almost certain you could feel Joel’s eyes raking over your body with hunger.

———

As the night wore on, the drinks flowed and the laughter grew rowdier and louder as the music in the bar was turned up. You were dancing with a couple of your friends, every now and then your eyes would catch Joel’s; he sat at the bar talking to your dad and nursing his whiskey.

“Sash, did you see the way he keeps looking at me? And earlier? Please tell me you saw that!” You whined.

“Ugh. God. I hate to feed your delusions but I did see it and I see it now. Even with your back turned, he’s watching you. Fuckin’ weird and intense, it’s like a predator with his prey. Waiting to strike.” She huffed, voice just loud enough for you to catch over the pop music playing.

“Okay… But why is that hot as fuck?” You laughed, throwing your head back as your danced. “I just need my dad to clear off, I love him but I can’t hit on his friend when he right there. That would be weird.”

You carried on dancing, with your friends and even with a couple of men when they tried it; you couldn’t help but notice the way Joel’s stare seemed to intensify when any man came near you, it made you smile to know that he was watching you.

One particular man caught your attention, he was similar to you in age, as far as you assumed and he was handsome, definitely easy on the eyes but nowhere near anywhere as good as Joel. He smirked at you from the bar and closed the distance between you until his hand was on your hip and he was dancing with you. You smiled sweetly at him, peering up at him through your lashes as you brought your thumb up to your glossy lips to suck on it seductively. You flashed a glance over to Joel who looked like he was ready to kill.

Bingo. You thought to yourself and danced with the handsome male in front of you, the music boomed and you swayed your hips against him, you span yourself around so you could press your ass to his crotch and you smirked over at Joel once again who was now alone at the bar. Your fingers clutched your glass as you wrapped your lips around the thin, red straw and sucked up the cool drink.

Joel quirked a brow at you, with a look that you couldn’t quite place, it seemed to settle somewhere between lust and utter disdain for you. You gave him a little wave and turned back to face the man you were dancing with, you looped your arms loosely around his neck and continued to dance along to the loud music.

The nameless man leant down and whispered into your ear, the music distorted his voice but he said something about leaving with him which caused you to giggle. You got up onto your tiptoes to whisper back into his ear but felt a foreign hand pressed against the small of your back. The guy you were just dancing with backed away with his hands held up in innocence.

“Hey!” You turned around with a deep frown. “Oh… hey, Joel.” You smiled.

“Your daddy left a little while ago, he saw you dancing and didn’t want to… disturb since you seemed busy…” He scoffed.

“Well I was a lil busy, and now he’s gone. Whatcha want?” You huffed.

“Don’t fuck around, little girl. We both know what you’re playin’ at.”

“What?!” You asked with feigned innocence.

“Darlin’” he warned lowly in your ear, his voice sending shivers through you. “You’re out here, shakin’ your ass for everyone.”

“And? Last time I checked, I’m single, of age and having a bit of fun. Is that not allowed, Mr Miller? Not even on my birthday?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him.

Joel scoffed and rolled his eyes at you, this fake-innocence crap wasn’t getting anywhere with him and he knew you were doing it to get a reaction from him.

“You’re being a little tease, darlin’ and I think you know it.” He growled, his voice low in your ear.

You swallowed roughly, even with the drinks you had, your mouth suddenly felt impossibly dry with nerves. You shook your head to Joel and he just chuckled.

“No, no… You know what you’re doing, I know you’ve been trying to get my attention all night and well, congrats. You’ve got my attention. So what now? What do you want, hm?” He asked, leaning back to gauge your reaction.

“I — I, I want -“ You stumbled over your words dumbly, without a coherent sentence forming.

“Hm?” He hummed, he took your hand and trailed it down his hard chest, down his stomach and let it graze across his crotch.

Even with barely touching him, you could feel the hard length of his cock through the rough material of his worn jeans. You pushed your legs together in the vain hope of staving off the throbbing between them, you could feel your panties get slick as you imagined sinking to your knees and sucking Joel.

“Funny, you seemed to be playing the big girl earlier, princess. Dancing with anyone, swinging your ass and hips for them. What’s the matter? Cat gotcha tongue now?” He smirked, his voice a soft coo in your ear.

“I want you to fuck me.” You blurted out, unceremoniously and immediately, your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “I mean, I uh — ignore me. I’m gonna go find my friends.” You muttered.

Joel shook his head and held onto your elbow roughly. “Come home with me then, darlin’. My truck is parked out back.”

“You’ve been drinking, I’ve had some drinks. One, I don’t wanna die in your rust-bucket truck and two, this is stupid. I’m being stupid.” You spoke quickly.

“Firstly, I’m gonna ignore you just called my truck a rust-bucket, that’s a whole other conversation and two, I’ve had two drinks, perfectly fine to drive. And as long as you’re sober enough to consent, and you do wanna do this. I think it’s a wonderful idea. Maybe just don’t tell your daddy.” He laughed.

You nodded dumbly, words failing you once again and let yourself be led out of the bar by Joel; you briefly shot a look behind you and for a second, you caught eyes with Sasha who just smirked at you as you left.

—

Joel opened the truck door for you to climb in, you grabbed the handle on the side and hauled yourself in; knowing your skirt would rise and give Joel a quick glimpse of your skimpy fabric.

Joel had to all but bite back a groan as he saw the flash hot pink, the curve of your ass just enveloping the lace as you sat down.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed as he closed the door to his truck and went to the drivers side. “You really are a naughty little tease, aren’t you?” He laughed.

You shrugged at him with a sheepish smile; in truth you weren’t always this bad but tonight it got you exactly what you wanted and you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Joel started his truck and within seconds of driving down the road, you reached your hand across the bench to palm at his cock; your delicate fingers wrapped around his half hard length through his jeans and you couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation.

He felt thick, even when only half hard and your mouth watered at the thought of his thick cock hitting the back of your throat.

“Impatient much?” Joel laughed, flashing a quick smirk in your direction.

“I need to taste you, like, immediately.” You hummed, you knew it sounded cringey and cliche but you needed it more than you could comprehend.

“Maybe let’s wait until we are back at mine — fuck —.” Joel cursed as your fingers quickly undid his jeans and dipped into the waistband of his boxers, albeit a little awkwardly.

“I’m sat here, and I’m wet. I’m talking, on the verge of dripping onto my thighs. I want you. In a way I’ve never wanted a man before so… how about you let me get you warmed up so when we get back to yours, you can have your way with me.” You reasoned, your voice blunt.

Joel couldn’t argue with that reasoning so he gently lifted his ass off the seat to allow you easier access to pull his thick cock out from his boxers. Your fingers expertly wrapped around his length and you marvelled at the fact your finger tips barely met. You stroked his shaft a few times as you felt him fully harden under your touch.

You couldn’t help but giggle; it was immature and girlish but in this moment, you felt giddy. You awkwardly repositioned yourself so you could duck your head down and suck the tip of his cock into your wet mouth.

Joel’s fingers tensed on his steering wheel, you could hear the squeak of the leather protest under his grasp as you wrapped your mouth around the male fully and sank your head down, enveloping him further.

You kept a hand wrapped around the base of his cock and bobbed your head slowly, a soft moan being muffled by the fullness in your mouth.

Above you, Joel groaned deeply as your tongue swirled around the tip and you grazed your teeth gently against his frenulum.

“Oh fuck!” Joel cursed out, one hand coming down to grip into your hair tightly; he couldn’t help the way his hand pushed your head down further. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth. Fuck.” He praised, brushing some hair away so he could catch a better glimpse of the sight below him.

You hummed in appreciation as you bobbed your head, your hand moving in perfect synchronicity with your skilled mouth. You removed Joel’s cock with a loud pop and you smirked at the male. You moved to kiss at his neck and your teeth grazed over his ear.

“Tastes better than any sucker I’ve ever had.” You purred, your voice low and sultry.

“You’re trouble.” Joel stated with a soft groan as your lips continued to kiss down his neck and your head travelled down south once more. “But you look so much cuter with something in your mouth, that’s its princess.” He cooed as your mouth sank around his cock once more.

The drive back to Joel’s was a short one, even if he did contemplate driving around the block a couple more times just so he could feel your mouth around him for longer.

Joel pulled into his drive, by this point you were sat up right and running a thumb along your bottom lip to tidy up your lip gloss. Joel tucked himself back into his jeans haphazardly before turning off the ignition to his truck.

“Inside, quickly. I don’t need the neighbours seeing me bringing you home. You know how rumours spread ‘round here.” He mumbled and it was true, most people knew Joel and they in turn, knew your father. You could almost heard the whispers that would spread around this part of town if they caught wind of what you were doing with Joel.

You hopped out his truck and walked to his front door ahead of him, making sure to keep a clear distance from the older male; no matter how hard your fingers were itching to explore his body.

Joel held onto the small of your back as he quickly unlocked his front door and ushered you into the familiar space.

“Upstairs. You know where my room is.” He stated bluntly as he removed his boots.

You nodded without another word and silently went up the stairs; you may have been playing the confident card in the truck but now that you were here, now that you were in his house, your hands were shaking with nerves and anticipation.

Joel entered the room a mere few seconds later and he smiled at you.

“So you’re not that much of a little brat that you can follow basic instructions.” He cooed.

You nodded, biting on your lip as you watched Joel effortlessly remove his t-shirt. Just as you pictured it; his chest was tanned and peppered with soft white hair. Further down his stomach as a groomed line of dark hair that disappeared under his waistband.

“What’s the matter, little girl? Not so brave now?” He smirked, closing the distance between you to hold your chin roughly between his finger and thumb.

He ducked his head down and kissed you roughly; it was an unceremonious clash of tongues as you kissed him back with intense fervour.

“That’s what I thought.” He whispered against your lips and let go of your face. “Take off your clothes. Leave on your underwear, I wanna be the one to remove that from you.” He commanded, kicking off his own jeans and sitting on the edge of his bed.

You suddenly felt self conscious, you could feel the burn of his gaze as you stood in front of him. You turned your back to him as you slowly undid the zip on your skirt and bent down to remove it.

Behind you, Joel had pulled his cock from his boxers and was stroking himself as you removed your clothes. Once your shirt was removed, you span back round to face the male and gently crossed your legs as you watched him.

“Fucking look at you.” He groaned, as his cock gently fucked into his fist. “Thought about your body so many times, knew I shouldn’t. Knew it was wrong but look at you, c’mhere.” He mumbled.

You felt your cheeks burn in embarrassment at his confession; it soothed your nerves as you realised the attraction was mutual between you both. Joel sat back a little and tapped his lap; you got the idea quickly and straddled him.

You cock feel his swollen cock rub against your clothes heat and you whined weakly at the contact.

“Please don’t tease me.” You whispered, looping your arms around his neck as Joel’s hands settled onto your soft hips.

“‘M not gonna tease you…” he smirked, his eyes lit with mischievous intent. “But I bet you could cum just from rubbing yourself on my cock. Since you seemed to want it so bad at the bar, trying to get my attention. Well guess what, little girl, you got it. Now keep it.” He hummed.

“Joel —“ you protested, to which he raised a brow at you in question.

You pushed your hips forward so the tip of Joel’s cock nudged your damp panties, it nudged your clit and you gasp as you began to rut your hips back and forth.

“Such a needy little girl, aren’t you? So needy for your daddy’s best friend that you’ll rub against his cock like a good little bitch.” He cooed, holding your cheek tenderly as his condescending words fuelled your hips to move faster.

“Not enough.” You whimpered, your hands scratching at Joel’s back for more leverage. “Need you in me, please. I need to feel your fingers inside of me.”

Joel smirked and pressed two digits into your mouth without warning; you quickly sucked them in, your tongue swirled around them until they were coated with your saliva.

“Is that what you mean, princess? My fingers are inside of you.”

You shook your head no as your hips moved desperately, the hot pink fabric of your lace thong was ruined; it was dark in colour as your arousal soaked the fabric.

“Then what is it you mean? Tell me what you want.” Joel said quietly, removing his fingers from your mouth. A long ling of spittle keeping you connected to the older male.

“Need your fingers in my pussy; need to feel them inside of me as I cum. P-please.” You whined, your voice sounded wrecked already as your hips stuttered against Joel’s cock.

Joel dipped his fingers into the front of your lace panties, they were slick from your spit and they glided through your wetness with ease.

He let out a moan as he felt your wetness soak his fingers further; his fingers circled around your clit with skill and your mouth fell agape with intense pleasure.

You screwed your eyes shut as his fingers sped up to rub over your clit.

“Oh that’s it, good girl. So wet for me, aren’t you? This all for me?” He hummed.

You nodded, as your back arched away from the man so he could gain better access to your front. Joel continued to speed his fingers up; he watched your every movement; every heave of your chest, every gasp or twitch of your arm and he knew you were getting close.

“Tell me when you’re going to cum.” Joel whispered, dropping his head down to kiss at your bra-clad chest.

“I’m close, Joel. So fucking close.” You whimpered, you were barely making a noise.

“That’s it, atta a girl.” Joel praised.

“I — I’m gonna, I’m gonna, fuck!” You screeched, the raw noise ripping from your throat as Joel removed his fingers from your panties at precisely the wrong moment.

He smirked at you, his mannerism teasing and cruel.

“What the fuck?” You squeaked, your eyes wide and your chest still heaving.

“Well I didn’t say you were going to cum, did I?” Joel stated.

“Please.” You pleaded, your eyes searching for mercy in him.

“Lay down on the bed for me.” Joel whispered, tapping your ass gently.

You felt dumb, your body was tingling all over from the overstimulation and lack of orgasm and you moved without knowing how you were doing it. You laid down onto Joel’s bed, your back resting up against his pillows.

It took everything in you to not turn your head into the soft pillows, breathe in his scent and fuck yourself right there. You felt like a horny teenager who couldn’t ever satisfy themself.

Joel fully kicked off his boxers and knelt beside you, he motioned his finger in an upwards movement and you sat up for him. Quickly, he removed your bra and your chest gently fell from the hot pink fabric. He gently pushed you back onto the bed and then worked to remove your panties, they too were discarded with the rest of your clothes on the floor.

“Now, where were we?” Joel smirked before he trailed his fingers back between your legs.

Instinctively, you spread them for him as he worked over your clit again; within seconds, the pressure was there once again and you tightly gripped at the sheets below you.

“Joel —“ you whined. “Please. Please, I am begging you, please let me cum.”

“Now where’s the fun in that, little girl?” He murmured menacingly.

You closed your eyes and willed yourself to not burst into tears there and then; the pleasure you were feeling was intense, Joel’s fingers moved expertly to bring you close to your orgasm and then there was the humiliation of him denying you the thing you wanted most.

Joel was watching you intensely, he was picking up on every little micro movement your body made or didn’t make, he was calculating when to stop his movements or when to speed them up. Bringing you right up to the edge, almost letting you peer over it but then pulling you right back again; never quite letting you topple into ecstasy.

He had done this three or four times now and the noises that left your body no longer sounded like your own; they were wrecked sobs of desperation as your arousal coated your thighs and left a wet spot behind in your wake. You could barely remember your own name or where you were anymore; Joel had messed with your mind.

“Please.” You pleaded to Joel, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Please let me cum, I can’t — I can’t take anymore.” Your eyes were glassy with tears at the intensity of Joel’s actions and your own frustration as you experienced another ruined orgasm.

You knew if you really wanted this to stop, you could stand up, get dressed and walk away but you didn’t want that. Joel Miller had rotted your brain and you were fixated under him, completely at his will.

Joel smirked at you again, that same look he kept giving you; it was smug, it was infuriating and it turned you on even more.

“Look at you, princess. You’re a mess.” He whispered, his spare hand brushing a strand of hair away from your features. “So wet and messy for me, hm? Are you sure you can even cum now? Do you know what to do?”

You nodded eagerly at the older male, your eyes pleading silently as your mouth was hung open in constant pleasure.

Joel didn’t say a word, instead he sunk two fingers into your hole without warning; his thumb circled your clit with intense pressure. It was like a million sparks erupted throughout your body; your back arched off the bed, your thighs fell open even further and your walls clenched around Joel tightly.

You could feel yourself flutter and pulsate around the man’s digits as you came. Your eyes were screwed shut and your mouth was open, not a single sound fell from your parted lips apart from the start of a strangled moan. The pleasure, the pure ecstasy, was too intense for you to make a single sound.

Joel pumped his fingers quickly, watching as you came on them.

“That’s it, fuck. So good. Give me another one.” He growled, his arm shaking as he pumped his fingers even faster inside of you; his thumb pass over your clit with each thrust of his digits.

You honestly didn’t know if you could give him another; your body was shaking as you laid there and took what Joel was giving to you. It was intense and never before had you had such a strong orgasm; there were still white flecks dancing around in your vision as your body built up to another orgasm.

Your fingers were clawing at Joel’s arm and you were sure that you had broken his skin as you came on his fingers; there was no telling what would happen when he ripped another orgasm from you.

“Be a good girl and then I’ll give you my cock, come on, princess. I know you can give me another one. I know you’re good enough for that.” He whispered. “Look at what you’re doing to me, baby girl. Look at my cock, it’s leaking for you. So good.”

You peered between your bodies and saw the head of Joel’s cock, it was flushed and there was a dribble of precum falling from the tip and collecting onto the sheets below.

“Ki-kiss me.” You managed to squeak out, your voice shaking as you looked at the older male.

He smiled and happily obliged, your lips met in a sloppy kiss as you felt your body shake more intensely. The tight coil in the pit of your stomach snapped once more and another intense orgasm rippled through you like a shockwave.

“Good. Good girl.” Joel praised against your lips as he worked you through your orgasm.

He pulled his fingers from your hole and rubbed them speedily across your clit, you let out a yelp at the overstimulation and gripped Joel’s arm tightly for leverage.

“I’m gonna —“ you managed to call out before he felt yourself gush onto the sheets below you.

“Oh fuck.” Joel moaned, his cock jumping with arousal as you squirted onto his hand.

“I’m so, fuck —“ you breathed shakily and held yourself up onto your elbows, tears staining your cheeks from the intense pleasure. “Joel, I’m so sorry. Fuck, let me clean up. Fuck.” You cursed, your body shaking as you went to sit up.

Joel chuckled and gently pushed your shoulder back onto the bed with a shake of his head.

“So sexy. Have you ever squirted before?” He asked, finally removing his hand from your throbbing pussy.

You shook your head and he just grinned at you boyishly.

“That’s even hotter, how did it feel, princess? Did you like it?” He asked softly, his fingers tracing soft patterns across your tummy.

You blushed at his words and gently cleared your throat. “I did like it, I didn’t… well I didn’t know I could actually cum that hard. It was intense but amazing.” You said softly, looking up at Joel through your lashes.

“I’m glad.” He smiled. “Look, we don’t have to — well, y’know, we don’t have to have sex. If you’re too stimulated or whatever. I can sort myself out.”

You quickly shook your head and pulled him closer to your naked body.

“No!” You said quickly. “I mean, I am a little over stimulated right now but please, I need to feel your cock in me.”

Joel didn’t need to be told twice and he roughly flipped your body over so your face was against the bed. You gasped under the male, surprised by his strength. Behind yourself, you could feel Joel moving, positioning himself so his cock was nudging against your entrance.

He thrust forward, filling you once again; you were all-consumed with just Joel. The heady scent of him lingered on the bellows below your face, you cunt ached with lingering pleasure of your orgasms and now, you could feel his large hands gripping your hips tightly as he fucked into you with fervour.

“That’s it, sweet girl, taking me so well. So good.” Joel mewled, the praise sending heat through your body once more.

Your fingers clung to the soft fabric of the sheets below you, and you couldn’t help the soft moans that escaped your lips as Joel fucked you.

“So good. F-faster.” You whimpered.

Joel obliged, he sped his hips up and dug his fingers into your hips so hard you felt as if you were going to have bruises there for days.

Joel’s hips began to stutter, his groans grew deeper and you clenched around him, trying to bring him closer to filling you.

“Such. A. Good. Little. Girl.” Joel groaned, each word accentuated by a deep thrust. “This is my cunt now, got it? Hm. All mine. Fuck, you’re so good for me.”

You nodded under him with a soft moan as he bottomed himself out in you, his cock impossibly deep as you felt it twitch before he coated your insides with his hot cum. You whined at the sensation and felt yourself flutter around his pulsing cock instinctively.

“Shit.” He groaned, giving one final sloppy thrust before we collapsed down onto the bed beside you with his chest heaving deeply.

You followed suit, your body finally giving out from under yourself; you grimaced as your body touched the soaked patch on the bed and you began to feel Joel leak from inside of you.

“‘M a mess but so tired.” You yawned, scrunching your face in disgust.

“Let me clean you up.” Joel whispered, stroking your cheek.

He let out a grunt as he climbed off the bed, his limbs aching from the effort. He scooped your body from the mattress and carried you to the bathroom where he sat you in the bath. He turned the shower on and you hummed as the warm water hit your body, not caring your hair and makeup would be a mess.

Joel climbed behind you and gently rubbed your shoulders as the warm water washed away the messes you both made.

A/N: my requests are open again, I can’t promise I’ll always write them really quickly but please send me any ideas of stuff u wanna read <3 love u all <3

#dbf!joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #dbf!joel #joel x reader #joel miller

999 notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 5 months

Text

Part 5 (it’s getting out of control) of Charmed Slasher Simon.

Part 4 is here. (Master list coming soon)

(Slight warning for a coworker being a bit of a pushy creep but Simon handles it)

“Riiiiileyyyy.”

Ah, that’s your naughty voice. It means he’s going to want to do awful, terrible things to you out of pure endearment for your cheek.

He turns, arches an eyebrow as you nearly skip up to him. Your hair is shorter.

“New haircut?” he asks as if his fingers aren’t twitching to bury in it and pull your head back.

“Yup! Thought about dyeing it orange, but decided it would clash with my flat.”

He snorts, gives in to the urge to curl a strand around his finger, watches it bounce back into place. You don’t seem to mind, sticking your cute little tongue out at him. (If you’re not careful, he’s going to put you on your knees and have you wrap it around his cock right there.)

“Sensible choice,” he replies, “yellow is more your color.”

You giggle, aren’t bothered by his flat, almost inflectionless tone. “You think?”

“Highlighter yellow. Or maybe banana.”

“Hey, I like bananas!”

He smirks. “Oh yeah? Big ones?”

You shove at him, face going hot. He doesn’t move an inch, not that you were trying hard. Touchy little thing. You remind him of those little birds that flutter around lions, picking and pecking right under their noses, amusing themselves with death.

“Don’t be icky, Riley.”

“Icky.”

“Gross nasty.”

“We’re name calling now?”

“It’s not name calling if it’s true.”

He clicks his tongue, ushers you into the building.

“There a reason for the new hair?” he asks, eyeing it. It’s pretty, don’t get him wrong. But he didn’t know you were getting your hair cut today.

“Fancy office party tonight,” you sigh, rolling your eyes. “My stylist just managed to get me in, but now I’ve gotta rush to get ready.”

“Now who said you could go out?”

“What are you gonna do, stop me?” you laugh, clearly thinking he’s teasing. He’s not. If you looked at his face, you’d know it. But you’re busy fussing with your keys, trying to unlock your door.

“I might.”

“Oh, you stop,” you huff, shaking your head. “It’s not even movie night!”

He’s been coming over once a week to watch a movie and drink with you. One of you picks the movie, the other picks the takeaway. He always chooses a horror movie, likes how your eyes water when you get truly scared. You refuse to watch slashers (haven’t told ‘Riley’ why) but you’ll indulge paranormal ones.

It’s not movie night - those are on Saturdays. This is Friday.

“What if I just kidnap you?” he asks. “Keep you in all weekend?”

You hum as if in thought, glancing at him over your shoulder. “Could I go back to work on Monday?”

“Have to see how I’m feeling on Sunday.”

You giggle. “A tempting offer, but you’ll have to settle for kidnapping me just for Saturday.”

“I don’t think you understand how kidnapping works.”

“I’d be a terrible hostage,” you say. He arches an eyebrow, inviting you to continue. “I have to pee when I’m nervous, I’d be talking their ear off - and! I cry like, so much.”

Oh he knows. He thinks of tears running down your pretty face when he cums.

“Some kidnappers like the crying. Theyre sadists.”

You scrunch your face. “But it’s like… gross crying. Total mess. And I make dying seal noises.”

No, you don’t, not in his experience with you at least. But he’s not going to explain that to you.

“Didn’t you have something to get ready for?” he asks because he’s violently wrestling the urge to make good on his threat.

“Fuck!” You glance at your watch, brows scrunching. “If I’m late, I’m blaming you, Riley Simmons.”

“Oh no.”

You stick your tongue out at him one last time and disappear behind your door.

—

He hears you come back at 11:30, has been waiting up. Pauses when he hears two sets of footsteps, a man’s voice talking to you. A wave of bloodlust nearly drowns his better sense.

You brought someone home from a work event? Did you lie to him and go on a date?

“Well, thanks for walking me to my door, Brandon.”

“Was happy to. Don’t want anyone snatching you up off the street now, do we?” An annoying laugh. Yours sounding a little flat and strained joining him.

“Oh, hey, mind if I come in?” Brandon asks. So casually, as if the yes is expected.

Simon’s hands ball into tight fists.

“Ah, it’s pretty late…”

“Well, that’s what Saturday is for, right?”

Oh. That little roach. Simon’s going to hang him by his own guts.

“I have plans tomorrow, actually.”

Good girl.

“That’s alright,” Brandon persists. “Just one drink. Least you can do since I went out of my way, right?”

“I mean, you didn’t have to, I would have been fine.”

There’s some genuine annoyance in your voice this time. Simon’s proud.

“Nah, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go home after having drinks?” Brandon chuckles.

“I didn’t have that many - and anyway I’m here now, so…”

“And so am I. At least a little something for my troubles?”

And Simon hears just the slightest, faintest ruffle of clothes.

That’s enough.

Simon yanks his door open and steps out. You’re nearly pancaked to your own door, head snapping to him with relief.

“Riley!”

Brandon takes a step back, expression stormy. Simon almost laughs. Little prick is barely taller than you, has done hard work maybe twice in his life. His hands look softer than yours. And he’s wearing a sweater vest.

“Did we wake you up?” you ask.

Simon saunters down the hall towards you. The closer he gets, the more nervous Brandon gets. But you seem to relax a bit more with each step, even shift towards him.

Very good girl.

“Was already up.” He doesn’t look away from Brandon, radiating menace.

You hum in understanding - know Simon keeps late hours. Brandon clears his still-intact throat and you jolt a bit, expression wilting.

“Oh, um. Riley this is my coworker. Brandon, this is Riley, my neighbor.”

“How do you do?” Brandon replies stiffly.

Simon’s not playing along.

“You try to push her again, someone will be pushing you in a wheelchair the rest of your life. Understand?”

Brandon sputters while your eyes go adorably wide, expression caught between horror and gratitude. Like you don’t know if you should be condoning his threats.

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Not yet, but you will if I see you here again, yeah?”

Brandon’s face drains of blood. You press your lips together.

“Now get the fuck out. I’ve got her from here.”

Brandon, worm that he is, scurries away with a hasty “see you Monday”. You don’t reply, too busy blinking up at Simon with parted lips.

He chucks you gently under the chin, eyes narrowing in amusement.

“Off to bed. I’m kidnapping you tomorrow.”

You audibly swallow, then nod.

“Thank you.”

“Good manners.”

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #dark fic #reader fic #slasher ghost #charmed ghost #final girl reader

1K notes · View notes

i2sunric · 26 days

Text

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓

enhypen hyung line fics based on daniel di angelo’s songs.

disclaimer ! these fics may contain heavy themes, smuts and angst. please be aware before reading and minors do not interact. i may change some things of the plots if i get better ideas.

coming soon. (i won’t follow an order, when it is ready i publish)

a/n : PLEASE like and reblog to spread! i may be slow at writing but i promise i’ll publish as soon as i can + listen to those bangers 💋 COMMENT to be added to the taglist of the fic you want.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 — 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄

“you’ve fucked with the wrong type, baby i’m the wrong guy.”

pairing: ceo!heeseung x stripper!reader

summary: during your usual shift at the pub on one late friday night, you noticed a gloomy figure sat on a sofa, his whole demeanour screaming broken. you wanted to fix him, you wanted to make him shine, but some things are too shattered to be put back together. be careful or you might get broken as well.

warnings: rough sex. unprotected sex, dirty talk, sex & sex, heeseung is toxic (or at least i tried), gaslighting, mentions of drugs, daddy issues, self hate, happy ending? (more to be added)

published: sunghoon’s. other’s coming soon.

wc:??

tag list:??

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐀𝐘 — 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

“i miss the way i used to fucking pull your hair, now you’re so far away.”

pairing: ex!jay x reader

summary: after breaking up with your boyfriend, time passed by but didn’t heal as many say. or at least for jay. he fell back in his old habits, drinking and smoking while trying to drown out his sadness; all until you receive a message from him and decide to make things right.

warnings: drinking and smoking. unprotected sex, dirty talk, doggy, toxic relationship, angst, self hate, hurt/comfort? (more to be added)

published: coming soon.

wc: ??

tag list: ??

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 — 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

“fucking all the time is wrong when you’re not mine, baby”

pairing: boyfriend’s best friend!sunghoon x reader

summary: just like eva did in the garden of eden, you fell under the serpent’s court and now are under his spell. you knew you shouldn’t betray your boyfriend, jake, like that when he was so right for you, but seeing that he spent more time out for work made you seek the love and affection you needed, and who if not sunghoon could give you what you deserved?

warnings: cheating. unprotected sex, they fuck everywhere and i mean it, toxic, creampie, masturbating, eating pussy, fighting, kissing, jealousy, jake is an asshole, doggy, missionary, rough blowjob, angst if u squint?

published: 12/04/2024

wc: 13.6k

tag list: closed.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 — 𝐍𝐎 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏

“our relationship was better when we never fucked, like, but just sometimes.”

pairing: fuck buddy!jake x reader

summary: jake should’ve known better than making the drunken mistake of sleeping with his best friend. and he should’ve known better than falling for your tricks and become your friend with benefits. he really tries to talk you out of it but most of the time it’s his dick doing the thinking, and you don’t mind at all. problem is, his heart got tricked as well.

warnings: unprotected sex. dirty talk, fwb, smut, jake is a sucker (like down so bad), creampie, mentions of pregnancy (more to be added?)

published: coming soon.

wc:??

tag list:??

782 notes · View notes

little-diable · 4 months

Text

All to myself - Prof!Tom Riddle (smut)

Prof and priest fics are without doubt my faves. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Another student tries to touch the reader, so Professor Riddle has to remind his TA that she is his, only his. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, oral(m), power play, profxta

Pairing: Prof!Tom Riddle x fem!TA!reader (1.8k words)

She felt his eyes on her, watching her every move as if he was worried about her doing something wrong, messing up his classroom. No matter what she did or touched, his eyes followed her around like a shadow. A shadow sewn to his boots, unable to escape her boss, the one whose every command she blindly followed.

“I’ll expect your papers on my desk Friday afternoon, I won’t accept any tardiness.” Professor Riddle’s voice filled the room, instantly shutting up his chatting students. All eyes were drawn to his piercing ones, staring at the tall professor who acted like their god, the deity they’d have to worship. “If you have any further questions, find (y/n), she can help you.”

(Y/n)’s eyes snapped towards the professor, hands freezing midair. Not once had he addressed her like that in class and told his students that she could help them out, hidden in the dark corners of the room as if he was scared to share her with them. She couldn’t stop the heat from flushing through her, eyes forced back down to the book she had been combing through, highlighting the pages he had asked her to prepare.

“I’ll see you next week.” With his last words echoing through the room, the students quickly rose to their feet, set on disappearing from the room and the professor they all feared. He watched them scurry out of the room, lips pulled into an almost satisfied smirk.

“Did you find the pages, (y/n)?” He leaned against the desk, arms crossed in front of his chest, no longer caring about the handful of students who were still packing their things. She could only nod, unable to meet his eyes, not when she was reminded of the way he had touched her not even twelve hours ago, once again finding comfort in one another’s touch.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t about comfort for him, perhaps it was all about claiming her, about owning the young woman who had joined his class as a student last year and was now working for him as his teaching assistant. A power hierarchy she had always feared, not daring to overstep, at least not till he had made the first move, not giving her a way out.

“Good, come to my office tonight so we can prepare for next week’s class.”

……

“Thank you so much for your help, (y/n).” A tight smile played on her lips, trying to keep her distance from the student who had found her a few minutes ago. She had been on her way to Professor Riddle’s office, carrying the books of his she had borrowed when the guy had forced her to a halt. He had instantly dropped his questions on her, smirking at the already annoyed woman.

“Of course, now, if you excuse me, I need to find Professor Riddle.” She wanted to turn from him, wanting to disappear from the student who made her feel all too uncomfortable. But his hand darted out, fingers wrapped around her wrist to keep her close. Her breath hitched in her chest at the unwanted touch, eyes flickering from her wrist to his dark pupils.

“Why the hurry, (y/n)? I think he can wait a few more minutes for you. Don’t you find it weird how he treats you? As if you’re some toy he owns.” Her throat felt tight, mouth too dry to reply, wanting to rip herself from the man’s grasp, though without any luck. The grasp he had on her wrist only got tighter, sure to leave marks she’d have to cover for the next days.

“Let me go, please.” The student’s laugh was drowned out by the sound of fast-approaching steps, making a shadow appear behind (y/n)’s frame. Instantly the student let go of (y/n), trying to flee from the scene as Professor Riddle stared him down. Within seconds the professor had the guy pressed against the nearest wall, forcing a gasp from (y/n).

“If I ever catch you touching (y/n), even looking at her, I will end you. Do you hear me, Mister Kerry?” No reply left the student, unable to speak up, only able to quickly nod his head. The second the man let go of him, he fled from the scene, leaving (y/n) and the professor behind.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke, with Professor Riddle turning towards (y/n), eyes focused on her already bruised wrist. With wide eyes she watched him carefully reach for her hand, momentarily studying her skin before he began to pull her down the hallway, straight to his office. Her heart was pounding, racing against her ribcage to try and warn the oblivious woman of the danger lying ahead. But there was no escaping, she was tied to him like a boat tied to the dock, rocking with the waves though kept in place by the tight rope.

“How did you find me?” (Y/n)’s whispers filled his barely alight office, drawing a dangerous chuckle from the man, a sound so strong (y/n)’s body kept trembling, littered with goosebumps.

“It’s not typical for you to be late, and I seem to find you no matter where you are. I don’t share what is mine, and especially not you.” His voice dripped with possessiveness, hand cupping her warm cheek before his lips crashed against hers, leaving the woman moaning. Within a few moments (y/n) was forced against his desk, caged between the expensive wooden craft and his tall frame. “You’re mine, mine alone, never forget that, pet.”

“I won’t. I am sorry.” She wasn’t sure what she was apologising for, and yet it only felt right to do so. The words seemed to please the professor, studying her for another second or two before an almost teasing “Prove how sorry you are” left him. Without protesting, (y/n) dropped to her knees, glassy eyes staring up at the tall man, watching him free his already hard cock with skilled movements.

(Y/n) parted her lips like she had done numerous times before, in this very position, for the brooding man only. He forced his cock into her mouth without another warning, finding enjoyment in her gasps, the surprise filling her eyes, the trembling of her hand. She was his pet, the one he had claimed the first time she had stepped into his office, forever his.

“Atta, girl, such a perfect mouth.” Her hum left him groaning, ringed hand finding her hair as his head momentarily rolled back. Professor Riddle’s eyes fluttered close, enjoying the fast bobbing motion, the way her tongue took care of his ache just like he needed her to. If there was one thing (y/n) found pride in, it was satisfying the tall man, drawing these sounds from his mouth – sounds she’d think of whenever her thoughts started to wander.

“C’mon, you can take a bit more, don’t hold back, pet.” (Y/n) struggled to take more, and yet she was set on following whatever he asked of her, trying to loosen her jaw. One tear after another spilt from her eyes, dripping down onto his expensive carpet, leaving yet another stain he’d never wipe away. She wasn’t used to hearing his praises, and yet whenever he did praise her, (y/n) hoped that her mind would never forget about these moments, cherishing every sound he made.

She felt his cock twitch in her mouth, staring up at the moaning man as her hands added more speed to their movements, pumping the parts her mouth couldn’t reach. If there was one thing she was set on, it was tasting his release, wanting him to leave his stain on her tongue before he fucked her, a wish the man wouldn’t fulfill today. He pulled away before he could give in, letting go of her hair, only to pull (y/n) to her feet. The professor manhandled her onto his table, front pushed against the cold wood as his hands pulled her trousers and panties down her legs.

“Such a messy whore for your professor, look at the way you’re dripping.” His dark chuckles left (y/n) impatiently moaning, hands clinging to the edge of the table, already preparing for the first of many ferocious thrusts. She heard him spit into his hand, once again lubing his cock up before he pushed into her from behind, drawing a moan from the both of them.

He fucked her hard, fast, not caring about her need to adjust, or the pained whimpers leaving her. No, this was a lesson, a lesson crafted for her only, reminding the young woman that she was his, his only. No other man would ever manage to fuck her like this. No other man would ever manage to draw these sounds from her parted lips.

His toy, his pet, his woman.

Curses left her whenever his cock managed to nudge the spot that left her seeing stars, squeezing her eyes shut to try and focus on the intimate moment, the need to feel his cock forcing her walls apart with every thrust, the ache he left behind between her legs. This wasn’t about taking their time, about cherishing one another’s closeness, this was solemnly to scratch that inch inside of them, fuelled by their possessiveness.

“Please, oh please, professor.” A hum left the man, forcing one arm around her waist to rub her pulsing bundle, driving her closer and closer to the edge. “Please let me cum, oh god, please.”

“Cum for me, pet. Let them hear who is fucking you, who is the only one allowed to touch you.” His name rolled off (y/n)’s tongue as she came, trying to prolong the moment for as long as possible. The professor kept snapping his hips, forcing his cock deeper and deeper, wanting to leave his stain on her walls, set on imprinting himself on her cunt. His dark, raspy moans left her gasping, feeling his hand tighten its grip on her flesh as he came inside of her, giving room to one last groan.

“You’re mine to touch, mine only, don’t you ever forget that, (y/n).”

#Tom Riddle smut #Tom Riddle imagine #Tom Riddle x reader #prof fic #Harry Potter smut

929 notes · View notes

sundrop-writes · 2 months

Text

Officially announcing my new series: Careful.

A limited multi-chapter series with Spencer Reid and Fem Reader, featuring angst, smut, and the trope of exes to lovers where Spencer finds out that he is a father four years after you have given birth to his child.

'When you and Spencer broke up, he tried to forget about you. He pushed all of those feelings for you down - until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being hunted by a man who kills single mothers.'

The series will be approximately 40k long in total (spread across six chapters) and will be posted every Friday, starting on March 8th, 2024, and continuing until ending on April 12th, 2024.

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS NOW POSTED!!!

(I am making a posting schedule, and I am gonna try really, really hard to stick to it this time guys.)

The series is already finished in my drafts - it just needs to be edited before posting. However, comments and encouragement are highly appreciated and welcomed throughout this process. The fic will not have a taglist (taglists are not something I do) - if you enjoy the concept or the preview below and you want to know when future chapters are coming out, then you will simply have to follow me here and turn on notifications for this blog, or you can find me on AO3 and subscribe to me there to get emails when this series and it's future chapters are posted.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you want to get a better sense of what the fic is about, click through and read it, and hopefully, you will enjoy.

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: typical Criminal Minds episode warnings; mentions of murder/killing; the reader character is being targeted by a killer and doesn't know it yet; the reader has a young child (a four year old son); the reader is a cis woman who uses she/her pronouns and a has a vagina; emotional angst between Spencer and the reader; the reader and Spencer had a romantic relationship around season 1/season 2 and this is meant to take place around season 6(ish) but you can picture any later version of Spencer you want; the reason that the reader and Spencer broke up is purposefully vague here but it will be fully revealed in the full story; the reader purposefully kept the pregnancy/Spencer's child away from him; Spencer didn't know he had a child out there in the world; there is some smut in this - unprotected penetration (a flashback to how the baby got here); possibly something that could be labelled as a breeding kink; making love/intense passionate sex; I believe that's in for this short part.

...

The team found themselves buried in paper, looking through the preschool applications for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the home until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“Plus, most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The conversation was easily drowned out for Spencer when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut that brought back a flood of memories he thought that he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper out from the others in the stack in order to read it more carefully.

You had a son.

…

When you answered the knock on your door, you were entirely lost for words, your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him.

The last thing you were expecting was to find Spencer Reid on your doorstep.

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion.

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief.

Shock.

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here?

“Y/N,”

He said your name in that honey-sweet way, and it brought you rocketing back to that awful night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over.

This brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions.

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. Regret.

Like your brain was a spin-wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage.

And that was when you finally spoke.

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom - immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and dropped out to fear. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say.

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch, and you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You screeched, your emotions carrying your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was emotion that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time.

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You added on with a howl. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?”

You gave him another hard shove - perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, you weren’t even sure.

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat.

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out.

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless.

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception.

…

You hadn’t taken the news that you were potentially being hunted by a serial killer very well.

Although, strangely enough, that wasn’t even close to being the hot topic when JJ and Spencer got back in the car, watching you pull out of your driveway to attend to something you said was entirely urgent.

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips.

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply.

…

Eventually - you did sit down and talk things out with Spencer, calmly.

He had a lot of questions, and you tried your best to answer them.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind.

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.”

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?”

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.”

“So - so do you know when-?” Spencer began, and you cut him off.

You already knew what he was going to say.

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.” You rushed to say.

But it was a lie. You knew.

You felt like you couldn’t tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived.

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember.

And you knew exactly when.

The night was so vivid in your mind.

…

He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day; even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart.

When he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him, he moaned even harder against your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip then as he asked a very important question.

“Do you have a condom?”

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him.

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply, combing your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward.

When he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat - he didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you.

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.”

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.)

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this.

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up, and gently guided the length of his cock into you.

This was always his favorite part.

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way.

It was perfect. It was so easy; it all came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other.

It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible.

With you, so tight and beautiful around him - he didn’t last. He couldn’t.

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.”

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’.

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time.

…

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer - one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why.

Spencer could instantly see the lie in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night.

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about, and he was going to call you out on it, make you admit in your own words how perfect that night was, even if the two of you were ruined now, a shadow of what you once were.

But he was disrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

858 notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

friday, i'm in love (eddie munson x reader)

summary: one of these days, you'll talk to the cute boy at your coffee shop. just... not today. (wc: 6.3k+)

order up! i've got one cup of sunshine for @munson-blurbs ♡

Today’s the day.

You take a deep breath, adjusting the strap of your bag as it digs into your shoulder.

Today’s the day.

You pull the door open for your local Starbucks, your preferred study date destination.

Today’s the day.

You smile at one of the other regulars, a kind and older gentleman named Jim. If you focus on Jim, your eyes won’t avert to him.

Today’s the day.

You already know he’s here. You delude yourself into believing you can specifically hear the scratch of his pencil on paper, that every click of a mouse or clack of a keyboard is coming from his laptop. Hell, maybe if you closed your eyes, you’d convince yourself the music humming over the shop’s speakers is actually the muffled tone warbling out of his headphones.

Today’s the day.

You order one of your normal drinks, one brimming with caffeine and drowning in enough sweet caramel drizzle to give you instantaneous cavities. It doesn’t matter – today’s meant to be a sweet day. The weather’s nice, nothing like it was last week when you’d been ordering a hot Earl Grey tea sweetened with honey each day, and you tell the young man taking your order that it’ll be iced.

He’s new. You have no doubt in your mind, because he wasn’t here last week, and one of the baristas you do recognize is hovering to the side as he rings you out.

You’re a creature of habit. All the baristas know you well, other regulars (see: Jim) even recognize you these days. You used to only come in once or twice a week, either to cram for tests or play a morbid game of catchup with all your homework, but something changed in the last two months.

He showed up in the last two months.

Today’s… not the day.

You turn with your overly sweet drink in hand only to be met with sore disappointment. You were right, he is here, already seated at his usual table.

And he’s joined by a girl and boy you’ve never seen before, but he surely has, by the way he’s all smiles and laughter focused directly at the pair.

You try to not let your stomach drop too low, to catch it before it hits the ground and gathers any unwanted attention your way. It’s fine, it’s okay, it’s good – today wasn’t the day, but maybe tomorrow will be. Maybe tomorrow can finally be the day you speak to the boy from the coffee shop who’s overrun your thoughts one day at a time, the boy you see every day like clockwork, the boy you’ve never exchanged a single word with.

“Dingus, you can’t just say that to a girl!” the girl seated in front of him, her back to you, yells as she smacks Dingus on the chest.

Your coffeeshop boy only cackles in delight, and you feel as if the sunshine that has broken through the cloud cover outside has wormed its way into your veins. His laugh is brilliant and warming as it echoes in your chest, and you try to remind your beating heart that it isn’t yours to keep. That doesn’t stop your arteries and veins from wrapping their way around the sound and thrumming to match its pace. It doesn’t stop your ribs from trying to hopelessly capture the sunshine. Maybe one day you’ll make him laugh like that, maybe one day you’ll find the nerve to strike a conversation with him.

Tomorrow has to be the day, since this sunny Monday hasn’t been.

—

Tuesday also isn’t the day.

You don’t even have a good excuse this time. He’s alone today, just as he usually is. His headphones are already in once you’ve arrived and you can hear tinny guitar solos blaring out of them from across the room. You almost convince yourself that that’s a good reason to approach him, to tap his shoulder and let him know how listening to music that loudly can permanently damage your eardrums, y’know?

But then you realized how prissy that made you sound. If you did that, you’re sure Chrissy, one of your favorite baristas here, would absolutely taunt you for days on end, probably making jabs about you being a grandma, going the full mile and offering you a senior discount just for shit and giggles.

So you stay seated. And you meet the peculiar look of Chrissy as she watches you and Eddie, the only two customers in the lobby this time of afternoon, as if she’s waiting for something to happen. Anything. The raise of her eyebrows serves as a painful prodding in your side as if to say “Well? What are you waiting for? Go on.”

You don’t go on. And that’s the issue – for the last two months, you have let the idea of some stranger completely occupy every thought you have to spare without even knowing his name. He was just always here; two months ago, your once quaint and nice study spot was infiltrated by wild curls and drumming fingers, plush pink lips that could make the older ladies that pass through absolutely swoon with a simple smirk and hello. You’d talked the ear off of all your friends for nearly an hour the day he’d worn grey sweatpants in rather than his normal ripped jeans. You’d caught yourself staring intently at the various rings that decorate his left hand on more than one occasion, trying to make out what the various symbols of silver were.

“This is getting painful to watch.”

You hadn’t even noticed Chrissy round the counter and head over to your table with a cloth in hand until she was looking down at you with a soft, childish pout and her big blue eyes framed with furrowed brows.

“What?” you question, putting down the pen you’d been clicking on and off for the last ten minutes, making no move to properly revise and submit the essay lighting up the screen of your laptop.

Chrissy keeps her voice low, moving to lean down closer to you under the guise of wiping the table beside yours, “The two of you. It’s painful, babe. One of you has to stop making eyes and make the first real move eventually.”

Real. A word you had cursed over a glass of wine with your roommate last night.

She’d pointed out the way you only liked the idea of your coffee shop boy thus far, how you had yet to introduce yourself to the real him. Which, she was right, of course. It was easiest this way; from a distance, he can be anything you want. He could be your easy Sunday mornings, sleepy smiles over toast and coffee made at home. He could be your tired Thursday evenings, coming straight home from whatever class or shift had wreaked havoc on your mind and right into his arms, popcorn and a movie already waiting for you to decompress over as you told him about your day. He could be a source of comfort on cold nights, a breath of fresh air on warmer mornings. He could be anything, as long as he continued to be just your coffee shop boy. A fruitless crush you’d always observe from across a bustling lobby. Keeping him at an arm’s length kept both of you safe: from disappointment, from complications, from reality.

“Just because we both come in everyday to use your free wifi and drink your mediocre coffee, doesn’t mean you get to play match-maker when you’re bored,” you try to keep a straight face as you say this, forcing a look of disinterest as Chrissy stares you down.

Normally, this would be the part where you’d snap at Chrissy that if she was so piqued in her interest with your coffeeshop boy, she could ask him out herself. But he wasn’t Chrissy’s type – the round enamel pin on her apron with a faded, baby pink background, multiple cats stacked on top of one another in different shades of pink, orange, and white, told you as much. The heart eyes she’d made at the girl that had been here with him the day before confirmed it.

“Don’t be so pissy,” Chrissy teases, “Or I’ll revoke wifi privileges.”

“You don’t scare me, Chris.”

“I should.”

“You’re all bark, no bite,” you scoff, a bit louder than before, and don’t even notice your boy subtly taking one of his earbuds out, fighting to keep his eyes down to the page he’s scribbling on rather than glancing up at your interaction, “And I use bark sparingly, considering your bubblegum pink aesthetic doesn’t exactly scream scary dog.”

Chrissy grins wider at your words – you’ve never backed down from being brazen with your humor against her. You don’t treat her grossly delicate or thickly lay on fake niceties. You’re genuine. It’s probably a contributing factor to you being her favorite regular.

He snorts, and you just barely catch the echo of the sound, making both you and Chrissy glance in his direction.

His eyes are glued on his notebook as a blush begins to spread up his neck. You can’t help the shy smile that urges the corners of your mouth upwards.

Talk to him, Chrissy mouths obnoxiously as she grabs her rag, taking slow and exaggerated steps backwards before she spins, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she speed-walks back behind the counter.

One day, you’ll talk to him. Soon.

—

Soon comes too soon. Far too soon and far too embarrassing of circumstances.

One moment, your eyes are glued to the statistics textbook in front of you, laptop set off to the side with your headphones connected in and a study playlist queued up on Spotify. The next, someone’s frappucino is spilling across the pages of numbers and percentages, making you gasp and jump back to no avail. The damage is done – your book is ruined, the front of your shirt is soaked, and all of your handwritten notes are now soggy and unreadable.

“Oh, shit!” the poor kid who had been the culprit stands before you, stunned and red with embarrassment as his friends quiet their cackling from behind him. It’s clear the group had been rough-housing, and that’s what led to this accident.

You zero in on a melting glob of whipped cream that settles into the open spine of the textbook, mouth falling agape as tears fill your eyes immediately.

Shit. No. No, no, no. This was a rental.

None of the younger boys are the one to make a move to help you. The baristas don’t stand a chance, delayed in even noticing the commotion. You’re a statue of bleary vision and panicking breaths as you realize the sticky mess is everywhere, including your laptop.

Your coffeeshop boy notices immediately. He’d noticed the moment the young boy had lost his balance beside you, was already scooting out his chair and jumping up before the blended coffee had even made contact with your table.

You come to your senses right around the time he’s at your side, a fistful of napkins, uselessly attempting to save your textbook that was already clearly ruined.

“Ah, fuck,” he whispers as he uses up all the napkins he’d managed to snag, looking up wildly at you, eyes zeroing in on the mess on the front of your shirt. You can’t even relish in the fact that this is the first time you’ve heard his voice so closely; you’re mortified and trembling, still unsure of whether you’re more angry about your textbook, your laptop, or your shirt, “Hey, you okay?”

Tears. There’s tears streaming down your face, hot with embarrassment and anger and defeat. You think the kid whose drink is now in your lap has been apologizing, but you pay him no mind.

“Go get cleaned up,” the coffeeshop boy immediately moves out of the way, motioning you out of your seat, towards the bathrooms, “I’ll watch your stuff, try to clean it up some, too.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You’re up in an instant, ignoring the stares of the baristas and the other boys, racing to the back corner of the shop where the two single-person bathrooms reside. You rush into one blindly, trying to calm your erratic heart and the impending panic attack.

It takes you twelve minutes to do so. Three splashes of cool water to the face, two pep talks about how it “wasn’t that bad”, and another whole minute of blankly staring into the mirror at the baby-hairs that frame your face that are now wet and plastered to your cheeks and forehead alike, just wondering where you’ll come up with the money for your damaged textbook.

And laptop. It also got on your laptop, son of a bitch.

You also have to come to terms with the fact that you’d burst into silent tears in the middle of your favorite coffee shop. In front of your coffee shop fantasy crush. You may never recover from that embarrassment, if you’re being honest with yourself.

A small knock comes from the door of the bathroom, forcing you to sigh deeply before gathering up all your composure and broken pride.

“Yeah?” you ask through the crack, hardly opening the door.

It’s Chrissy, standing wide-eyed and hopelessly holding two pieces of clothing in her hand, “Okay, so uh, we don’t have any spare shirts here. But… But I have a spare apron? And a spare jacket? I’m sorry, these are awful options.”

“I…” I’d rather die than wear that apron, or ruin someone’s jacket. “It’s fine, Chris. I’ll probably get going anyways.”

“But your shirt is all-” she pauses, and you could burst into tears all over again at the way she scrunches her nose so adorably, “-sticky.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“It’ll get all over your car.”

“It’s already all over my stuff. Might as well go big or go home.”

“I owe you a free coffee now, you know that?” Chrissy’s shoulders finally deflate in defeat, accepting your stubbornness as the winning contender, “Next time you come in, probably tomorrow. Whatever you want. It’s on the house, I sw-”

“Damn, now I wish some twerp spilled their mocha cookie whatever all over me,” it’s him – your coffee shop boy. A boy who came to your rescue, a boy who lives in all your bedtime fantasies, and a boy whose name you still don’t know. Chrissy turns and the two of you both look at him, you opening the bathroom door wider despite your embarrassment. He immediately throws up a hand in surrender, “Sorry, I’m, uh- shit, I’m interrupting. But I just… Uh, well. Okay, this is weird. Really weird. You can ban me if this is too weird,” he turns to Chrissy with wide brown eyes, making her immediately cross her arms across her chest defensively, “Seriously, okay? Say the word, I’ll accept my banishment. I just-”

“What’s behind your back?” Chrissy narrows her eyes. You hadn’t even noticed the boy hiding something, too busy being enamored by his stumbling words and adorable blush. Fuck. You hated it; you hated the fact that everyone was right, and the real him was even more adorable than you could have anticipated.

He brings his arm out from behind him, and when you see what’s in his clutches, you nearly scream in frustration.

He’s not just more adorable than the fantasized versions of him you’ve created – he’s more thoughtful, too. It spells out trouble for you and your restless, irrevocably romantic heart.

“I keep spare shirts in my van,” he explains sheepishly, “I swear it’s clean. It’s for- well, I… It’s for ‘just in case’ situations. Sort of like this one, I guess.”

Chrissy is quick to take it from him, passing it along to you as she keeps staring him down, “How convenient.”

“Very,” he nearly cowers under her stare, swallowing hard before turning to you, “You don’t have to give it back or anything. You can even burn it, for all I care. It’s just some shirt for… for, uh, some shitty band.”

You don’t think too much about the comment, just shut the door and leave Chris alone with the coffeeshop boy, silently praying she doesn’t tear into him unnecessarily after the act of kindness. You change shirts, dabbing at your chest with wet paper towels between peeling off your coffee-stained blouse and switching it for your coffeeshop boy’s shirt.

Corroded Coffin. It’s not a band you recognize, as you read out the jagged writing of the logo across the front of the black t-shirt. The white font pops and you’re already trying to think of an easy segue into maybe discussing whoever this ‘shitty band’ is with coffeeshop boy rather than the mortifying disaster you’d just endured from a group of young teenage boys who knew no better.

But when you leave the bathroom, that group of scoundrels is gone, along with coffeeshop boy. Chrissy wears an apologetic look over the shoulder of a customer she’s taking the order of at the front counter. It does nothing to wear on the sinking feeling of disappointment in your gut, that deflation at realizing he didn’t wait around for you. The customer pays and leaves the counter, and Chrissy almost looks to be expecting you to stop and say something, but you don’t.

You don’t say a single word. Only rush and gather your things off the table, which are surprisingly clean. Coffeeshop boy did a good job.

Too bad you don’t have the chance to tell him.

Reality, you decide, has something in common with the coffee; it’s always going to end with a bitter bite, no matter how much sweetness you suffocate it with.

—

You don’t return for several days after Wednesday’s incident. Thursday turns to Friday, Friday bleeds into Saturday, and by the time Sunday rears its ugly head, you’re still wallowing in self-pity. Embarrassment has a way of sinking deep into your bones, and no amount of curling up in the center of your bed will make it fade. You try to sit up at your desk and finish some of the revisions you’d been working on that awful day before wearing some kid’s frappucino, but you can’t focus. The pages of your rental textbook are still sticky, your S and K keys now only work half the time, and you can’t find the right study playlist. The atmosphere is wrong, the vibe is wrong, everything is just wrong.

At least you hadn’t resorted to wearing Coffeshop Boy’s shirt. You’d thought about it, of course, but you hadn’t hit that low of a point. Not yet, at least.

Your roommate can’t take it. She insists you get out of the house, simply because your moping is “too fucking sad” to witness. To which you obviously had to retort, “how do you think I feel?”.

So now you’ve been standing outside of your usual Starbucks for five minutes. Squinting like a weirdo through the large, front windows, trying to make out if he was there. Or maybe the ‘twerp’ who had spilled the frappucino. You weren’t looking for a fight – you just needed to avoid every individual who had witnessed the most embarrassing day of your life to date.

“He’s not here,” a voice suddenly says from behind you. You jump a fraction before spinning and catching sight of one of those damn witnesses: Chrissy, “He never comes in on Sundays. You don’t, either, by the way. What gives?”

“I’ve come in on Sundays before,” you deflect.

Chrissy laughs, shaking her head, brushing past you with her green apron rolled up into one of her fists, “No, you haven’t. So I’ll ask again,” she pauses, opening one of the front doors and motioning for you to enter first, “What gives?”

Your feet drag as you walk past her, the lobby eerily quiet. At the very least, she’s right – there’s no sign of your coffeeshop boy. Just some old dude with a newspaper in your usual corner, and a girl with a laptop, seemingly in some sort of video meeting, in coffeeshop boy’s usual spot.

“No hidden romance there, unfortunately,” Chrissy notices your staring and waves between the patrons. Neither so much as look up, “You and Eddie are our store’s only modern Romeo and Juliet.”

“Who?”

“Eddie,” she repeats, watching the realization spread across your face. A smirk appears on her glossy lips as she clarifies anyways, “Your knight-in-shining-armor. The boy you’ve been making heart eyes at for weeks. The dude of your dreams-”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut her off, cheeks already warming as you glance again to the girl and the old man. Still no reaction. Your mortification today, it seems, has no audience.

Eddie. Eddie. Eddie.

The name thrums through your chest, excitement and a twinge of guilt racing through your veins.

Your coffeeshop boy’s name is Eddie.

“I never knew his name,” you whisper quietly, catching yourself staring in the occupied seat that is usually his. “I… Have you known it this entire time?”

Chrissy shakes her head, “No, I asked him Thursday. You know, the first day of your disappearance.”

You can’t even process her slight jab at you, or the way she tilts her chin as she waits for a reaction. You’re too busy thinking about Eddie. Eddie, who doesn’t come here on Sundays. Eddie, who keeps spare t-shirts in his van– Eddie, who drives a goddamn van.

He’s suddenly tangible. It’s dizzying.

“He asked about you, y’know,” Chrissy’s voice is low and you finally glance back to her, “On Thursday. And Friday. He asked about you.”

Eddie, who you’ve been waiting for the day to introduce yourself to. Eddie, who asked about you.

“What’d he ask? Specifically?” you question, taking a deep breath and trying to clear your thoughts.

“If you’d been in, if I’d seen you. He even asked for your name.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Nope,” she grins, blue eyes sparkling, “I figured I’d give you the honor.”

It’s on Sunday that you decide the next day you see coffeshop boy, that you see Eddie, it will be the day. It’s only fair that he knows your name now that you know his, after all.

—

Monday isn’t the day, and neither is Tuesday. You show up to the Starbucks, you take your usual spot, you spend hours studying – Eddie never shows up. Wednesday and Thursday aren’t the days either, filled with finals and celebratory dinners at twenty-four hour diners with friends.

By Friday, you’re missing your coffeeshop romance terribly.

But Friday, as it turns out, isn’t quite as unlucky as the rest of the week. You wake up that morning, and you can feel it in your bones; today’s the day. You’ll see Eddie today. You’ll introduce yourself to Eddie today, without a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappucino soaking your shirt. It’s an acknowledge truth in your bones, maybe even in the stars. Everything is aligning, and you were going to stop spending your days with your head in the clouds. Maybe it would fizz out, and the crush that had kept you on the edge of your seat, that had kept you mildly entertained for months would lead to nothing. But maybe, just maybe, this could be a beginning. A leap of faith into reality that could turn into something real.

When you first show up, you don’t see him. It’s during the tail-end of the morning rush that you make your way in, ordering your usual iced coffee and taking your usual seat with the perfect view of Eddie’s usual seat. Customers filter in and out, a line occasionally forming before the baristas take care of it quickly, but not a single person is the one you’re looking for.

You distract yourself. You busy yourself with pulling out your laptop, glancing over whichever grades have been finalized, pondering over the ones that have yet to be set in stone. Once you’ve beat that horse to death and have nothing left but scholarly anxiety bubbling up, you’ve moved on to making a spreadsheet of all the books you want to read during the summer, with all the free hours you definitely weren’t going to waste, and would totally make use of. You even color code by genre.

You think you have more fun making the spreadsheet than you will enjoy the actual reading over the novels you listed.

Just as you’ve finished your iced coffee, ready to move onto looking at goddamn Yahoo news to entertain yourself, a cup is sat down in front of you. A hot grande cup.

You read the sticker turned towards you before you even spare a glance to the person who’d sat down the drink: a grande Earl Grey tea, sweetened with one packet of honey.

“Chrissy, I only get this when it’s rain-” you start, assuming the barista would be the one standing over your table. It isn’t. It’s coffeeshop boy – it’s Eddie. You can’t help the curse that falls from your lips, “Oh, shit.”

“Sorry,” he bites his lip as if holding back a life, hands nervously shoved into the front pockets of his jeans as he rocks on his heels, “I just… I honestly don’t know what you usually get. But your cup was empty when I walked in, and the one time I got here before you, this was the drink you got, but now that I think about it, it was raining that day and that didn’t even cross my mind-”

Your smile is slow as it uncurls, so saccharine and so enamored as you finally cut off his rambling, “Thank you.”

He doesn’t look reassured in the slightest, paling as he stutters out, “Oh, God. I- I’m a creep for remembering that, aren’t I? Fuck, I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice because I know Thursday was so rough-” he cuts off at your subtle wince at the reminder of that entire tragedy, “Sorry. God, how many times can I say sorry, am I right?”

Eddie, who is absolutely fumbling over rambles like a fool when he approaches you to talk to you first. Eddie, who is quickly shaping up to be better than even your wildest dreams.

“First of all,” you start, nervously making eye contact, trying to calm your nerves by reminding yourself he’s an even bigger mess than you right now, “You’re not a creep for remembering that. That’s… it’s really thoughtful, actually,” he breaks out into a restrained smile, the smallest glimpse of relief on his face, so you continue, “And second of all… I mean, who knows? Maybe it’ll rain and you saved me some trouble.”

He lets out a bark of laughter at that, and immediately, all frozen awkwardness around the moment shatters. Whatever pedestal you’d set the boy on the last several weeks has crumbled with ease. Reality comes crashing down, and you relish in it.

You relish in the golden streaks through his messy curls, and you drown in the richness of his brown eyes, entrancing this close up. You relish in that dimple in his right cheek, deep enough to swallow you whole as he recollects himself. You relish in the fact that he’s here, it’s Friday, and today is the day.

“There is absolutely rain on the forecast, and you should absolutely just take my word for that and not fact check me,” he jokingly replies, “I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“I know,” you blurt out with thinking, and immediately regret it. You can’t tell if the shock on his face is laced with amusement or not and you panic, desperate to defend yourself, “I- Chrissy told me, I swear. I’m sorry, that was weird, I just-”

He’s the one interrupting apologies now, “It’s okay. Can’t be weirder than knowing a stranger’s rainy day coffee order.”

Grinning. God, you can’t stop grinning, even as you breathe out your name.

“Sorry?” he asks with furrowed brows, hardly catching on to the whispered reveal.

“That’s my name,” you explain before repeating yourself. His cheeks undoubtedly ache the same way yours do, “Now I’m not a stranger. Makes it less weird.”

His smile is downright radiant, and oh, God what you’d given to hear him murmur your name under his breath again in that odd, peculiar manner he just did. As if he’s trying it out, tasting it on his tongue and deciding if it’s worth repeating.

His eyes shine; you have a feeling you will be hearing it again.

“Say, is this seat taken?”

You assume he’s meaning the chair across from you, tucked neatly into the table covered in your belongings, and you immediately shake your head to tell him it’s not, motioning for him to join you.

He wasn’t meaning the chair. He flops himself down beside you on the bench seating, settling into the plastic plush as his thighs brush against yours.

“So,” he starts, propping his elbow up on the table beside your laptop, resting his chin on his fist,“Tell me about yourself, not-stranger.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” he answers, making your heart clench, “But maybe, let’s just start with your coffee order for days that aren’t rainy.”

Hours. You and Eddie spend hours talking. The baristas behind the counter rotate, the sun eventually sets, and you don’t even notice when clouds form and light spatters of rain spit out onto the sidewalk outside. You dive headfirst into reality with Eddie, and it’s like the first breath of Spring.

He wakes you up in a way no shot of espresso ever could. It’s as if something deep inside of you had been sleeping for so long, you’d forgotten it existed until he magically awoke it. Something shining, something wonderful, something new. Something real.

Everyone was right. The tangible Eddie is infinitely better than the idea of coffeeshop boy.

“You know,” you’ve drained your earl grey, laptop long since closed as your body mirrors Eddie’s and twists until your kneecaps press against each other. His arm rests casually along the back of the seat just over your right shoulder, “I’m still curious who Corroded Coffin is. I know you said they’re shitty, but-”

“Oh, God,” Eddie throws his head back in laughter, running his free hand over his face, “So, uh, funny story.”

You quirk an eyebrow, “Funny story?”

“Yes. Hilarious, actually,” he affirms, “Corroded Coffin is… uh, well… Corroded Coffin is my band.”

You can’t stop the snort, realization dawning on you. That’s why Eddie had the spare shirt in his van – it’s his own damn merch.

“I’m going to pretend you’re laughing with me, not at me,” he hums, leaning back and watching your giggles continue to hit you in waves.

“I am-” you start to reassure, broken off by another gasping laugh that even has him chuckling along, “I am, I swear! I just… Why would you tell me you guys are shitty?”

“A bad joke,” he hums, waving his free hand, chuckles still lingering at the edge of his tone, “I tend to tell a lot of those around pretty people.”

Pretty people. He thinks you’re pretty.

“Yeah?” you choke out, laughter abruptly fading as the realization hits you.

He thinks you’re pretty.

“Yeah.”

Oh, God. He thinks you’re pretty. He’s in a band. He remembered the drink you got on a rainy day ages ago (him forgetting the rainy detail can be forgiven because he remembered without even knowing your name). He smells like spice, like everything kind and gentle and warm. It mixes so well with the smell of the coffee already in the air, you wouldn’t have noticed it was his cologne unless you hadn’t spent a better part of the hour leaning in closer and closer to him, the scent getting stronger and stronger.

Maybe reality can be sweet. Maybe it’s not always bitter.

“You know, we have a show coming up,” he continues on, tilting his head at you curiously, “Tomorrow night, actually.”

“You do?” you ask dumbly, not catching on, not yet.

He nods, the corners of his lips curling up, “Yeah. It’s at this venue not far from here, a small bar. It’s not much but it’s an upgrade from where we started…” he trails off, eyes diverting to the wall behind you and across the store, “Uh, you obviously don’t have to… but, I mean, if you’re not busy, I could always add your name to the guest list. It’s no pressure, obviously! I mean, you don’t have to go, it’s just an id-”

“I’d love to,” you stop him with a hand on his knee, grounding him from the returning rambling, “Tell me when and where tomorrow night, and I’ll be there.”

Your heart might just burst.

“Right,” he seems to still entirely beneath your touch, eyes darting down to where your hand rests, “Yeah. I can write it down for you-”

“Or I could give you my number.”

“Or you could give me your number.”

You’re both grinning, blushing fools. He takes a second, just staring at you, seemingly in awe, before you have to remove your hand from his knee and put your palm up as a signal for him to hand over his phone.

He nearly drops it in his flurry to get it into your waiting hand, bouncing his knee the entire time it takes you to put in your contact information. You make a point to add a coffee cup emoji after your name.

“Hey, guys,” the two of you are suddenly interrupted just as you’re giving his phone back. It’s the barista from last Monday – the new one, the one who’d taken your order when you’d been convinced that would be the day you were going to speak to Eddie. Funny how clueless you had been at the time, “Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to let you guys know that we close in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, fuck,” Eddie gasps, sitting up straight as he tucks his phone back into his pocket, “Sorry, man. We’re heading out.”

The new guy’s eyes light up ever so slightly, shrugging off the apology and just nodding with a polite smile.

You wonder if you’ll even get the chance to break the news to Chrissy. Something tells you she’ll be finding out before you see her again.

The boy retreats, and you’re quick to grab your laptop and move to shove it into your bag. Eddie stands and waits, unbothered and encouraging you to take your time before you swing the heavy bag over your shoulder.

Eddie, the boy who’s show you’ll be going to. Eddie, the boy who now has your number.

You don’t think you’ll ever get sick of his name echoing through your mind.

“Thank you again,by the way,” you say as you pick up that empty grande cup, turning for the trash, “The tea was good, even though-”

It’s raining. It’s steadily sprinkling outside, trees shifting with a gentle and stormy breeze. You can tell easily, even with the darkness of the evening having fallen. There’s rogue raindrops racing their ways down the window in front of you. Your reflection stares back faintly, and over your shoulder, you can see Eddie smile shyly.

“It’s raining,” you murmur.

“I told you,” Eddie says softly, “It was on the forecast. Also, I might have noticed the clouds building up on the drive over.”

You turn to face him slowly, heart thumping against your ribs, “Did you… You knew it was my rainy day drink, didn’t you?”

He blinks once, twice, before swallowing hard and nodding, “I did.”

“How?”

“I mean, I wasn’t lying. I did hear them call it out that one time. Also, you always have a hot drink especially when it’s raining.”

He looks like he might pass out from embarrassment, but you just let a grin overtake your features, “Oh?”

“Like I said, it’s creepy. Do I need to apologize again? I can apologize again.”

Oh, your grin grows.

“What else did you notice?”

“Excuse me?”

You shrug, “What else did you notice about me? For example, I’ve always noticed your rings. Also, you listen to your music far too loudly. You’re gonna go deaf one of these days, you know.”

He melts, color returning back to his features as he realizes you’re not upset or creeped out, “You noticed me before the other day?”

“I did,” you try to downplay it, keep an even tone as your heart screams, “And it sounds like you noticed me too.”

A boyish grin and two steps forward, he’s approaching you and evading your space with that warm smell of spice once more.

“Yeah, I did,” he admits, ears and bridge of his nose alike tinged in a spackling of pink, “I noticed the faces you made whenever you’d work on math homework. And the way you’d cringe every time I turned up my music. And the way Chrissy never stopped teasing you, the same way she’d tease me on the days you weren’t here.”

“Wow,” you sigh, looking back down at that empty cup. That goddamn empty cup that just revealed to you that he thought of you just as you’d thought of him, “We’re idiots.”

That feeling that still rings in your bones. No longer just the feeling that today is the day, but that there’s more good things to come. There are lazy Sunday mornings to be had, relaxing Thursday nights to enjoy. There are tangible things to have and to hold in your future, materializing right out of nonsensical ideas you’d clung to just days before.

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs in agreement as you toss the cup into the trash, “Yeah, we’re fuckin’ idiots. Don’t tell Chrissy, capiche?”

Today was the day. Today was just the beginning.

“Capiche.”

It’s not until a month later, when you and Eddie come in together on one of your slow Sunday mornings, that Chrissy gets her I told you so moment. After the shock of seeing her two favorite customers on a Sunday, of course.

#3k celebration #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #see? i still write!#proof i'm literate

3K notes · View notes

everyonewooeverywhere · 2 months

Text

MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ fuckboy!mingi x party girl!reader (feat. best friends/roomates!woosan)

synopsis ✭ you like to party but that doesn’t mean you’re always down to fuck, so, when notorious fuck boy song mingi takes an interest in you, you’re certainly wary of him. but something about his insistence and willingness to go the extra mile is incredibly attractive. when they see you start to play into him, though, your best friends wooyoung and san do everything in their power to keep you away from him. so mingi has no choice but to fly under their radar.

content/genre ✭ smut MDNI 18+, fwb/situationship to ???, undefined relationship, secret relationship

word count ✭ 5.3k

warnings ✭ alcohol consumption (not during/before sex), protected sex, slight dirty talk, fingering, sex is pretty vanilla

✭✭✭✭

CHAPTER 1: SWEET TALKER

The scene was very familiar to you. A packed bar on a Friday night. A skimpy outfit that made you feel good. Loud music that shook through your body, lyrics drowned out by the heavy bass and mass of people. All of that on top of a drink in your hand paid for by a guy you knew full well you were not going home with. It was the recipe for a perfect night.

You certainly weren’t a stranger to a good party. And this one wasn’t any different from the others. The drink in your hand was free, paid for by the pretty stranger you were talking to. His name completely slipped your mind, but you didn’t really need to remember it because, moments after catching your eyes from across the bar, your friend slipped his arm over your shoulder.

When you looked up at him in mock surprise, he kissed your forehead. He turned to look at the guy you were talking to, one who was mildly surprised to find out you had a boyfriend.

Despite his surprise, though, he piped up anyway, “Can I help you? We were kinda talking here.”

Wooyoung shook his head and laughed, “I don’t really appreciate guys buying drinks for my girl and trying to hook up with her.”

“But–”

“We’ll be on our way actually,” Wooyoung cut off the nameless man, leading you away with his arm still around your shoulder.

It wasn’t until the two of you made it to the tall table where your friend San was standing that he dropped his arm from your shoulder.

Immediately, though, Wooyoung glared at you, “Was the drink worth it?”

“Honestly, not really,” you laughed, “His taste kinda sucked.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. You playfully nudged his arm with your elbow, “You’re just mad you can’t anyone to pay for your alcohol that isn’t San.”

“I only pay because he never stops whining,” he glared at your friend. “And it’s not like I’m gonna drink tonight either,” he said, taking a sip of the Coke in his hand.

“You don’t have to be the designated driver every weekend, San,” you told him, “Wooyoung knows how to drive, too.”

Wooyoung scoffed, “You bitch. You know how to drive. Why don’t you ever offer?”

“Because you are a gentleman, and you would never make me drive you home after a long night.”

“That’s some bullshit logic.”

You shrugged, “It works on San.”

“You know I don’t mind,” San chimed in, trying to break up this completely unnecessary argument.

You knew, but pushing Wooyoung’s buttons was always fun, especially when he was tipsy. Turning away from the table, scanning the bar. It was relatively early, only around ten, but the bar was packed with mostly students from your university. They hung around the bar and danced on the floor. It was a typical Friday night for a lot of students at your university. Since the bar was only half a mile from campus, you’d be hard-pressed to find a body in here who didn’t attend your school or know someone who did. Despite that, most of these people you had never seen before in your life.

Song Mingi was not one of those people.

Personally, you had only ever interacted with him in passing. Mostly with his friends. When they bought you a drink hoping you’d come back to their place. The majority of them had failed (in fact, only one of them had ever succeeded). But you knew his name at least, and you were pretty confident he knew yours.

He had never really tried. Probably because you had a reputation for rejections. Most guys, fortunately for your wallet, saw this as a challenge, and you were never gonna turn down free stuff.

From where he stood across the bar you could tell he was staring at you. Even with his stupid sunglasses on. He was staring at you with complete disregard for the fact that there was already a girl on his arm. You saw his eyebrows raise above the glasses as if he was greeting you without tipping off the girl with him. You rolled your eyes a looked back over at San who was sliding around the table to your side.

“He’s been watching you all night.”

“Really?” you titled your head, minorly intrigued. Maybe “minorly” was a lie because you could hardly ignore the butterflies in your stomach at knowing that fact.

“Y/n…”

You side-eyed him, “What?”

You knew “what.” Of course, you did. That much was obvious from the girl on his arm who he was pretending to pay attention to. Mingi went through girls like they were busy work. Checking them off like boxes and moving on to the next. As far as you know, he hadn’t had a girlfriend in your four years of attending the university, and you weren’t delusional enough to believe that the attention he was giving you was anything special.

As much as you despised a fuckboy, though, you would be a fool to deny that Song Mingi was the epitome of your type. Tall, dark hair, great style. Dressed in all black and adorned with carefully chosen silver jewelry. Sometimes you wondered why all the hottest guys you knew were the ones who were almost certainly never going to settle down. San would be the one to tell you to reassess your type, but listening to San was something you didn’t do very often (even though he was always right).

“I know you, and you do not want to mess around with him.”

“Correction, I don’t want to date him. I would very much like to mess around with him.”

San looked at you disapprovingly, “You and I both know that you don’t go home with guys because you know you’ll catch feelings for a one-night-stand. Tell me how the fuck you’re going to mess around with him and keep it purely casual.”

He was right, as per usual. You weren’t really the type to be able to separate romantic feelings from your sex life. God, you had surely tried, but each attempt had ended in disastrous heartbreak. And you had no reason to believe that this would be any different.

“One drink couldn’t hurt.” You were desperately trying to reason with him. Well, you were more trying to reason with yourself, but San was there to be of assistance.

“Ask him why the fuck he’s wearing sunglasses inside at night,” Wooyoung chimed in from behind you.

“Stop encouraging her.”

“Ok, dad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes and took a sip of the Coke San had left on the table.

“It’s fine, Sannie, I’m not gonna fuck him. I’ll just talk to him, and maybe dance with him. That’s it. I’ll still come back here, and we’ll all go home together. Ok?”

Despite San’s major disapproval, you made your way back up to the bar. If he wanted you that bad, he’d come to you. You certainly weren’t going to make the first move here. If he wanted to get closer than just checking you out.

Inevitably, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was Wooyoung, and he was letting you know that Mingi was making his way toward the bar.

In order to avoid another mediocre drink, you started ordering a drink for yourself. When the bartender asked for your card at the end of your order, you started digging around in your clutch. Mingi knew your game. He knew full well, as he approached you, that that clutch held absolutely nothing of monetary value. And he was right of course, you had brought it for the sole purpose of holding your phone and a tube of lip gloss.

“Go ahead and make two of those,” Mingi reached over your shoulder and handed the bartender his card.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, faking your surprise, “Oh! Thank you.”

“Of course, anything for a pretty girl who goes to bars without a wallet” he smiled down at you. Leaning against the bartop.

Laughing, you shrugged, “I don’t need to why pretty boys are willing to pay for my drinks.”

“So you knew I would pay before you even got up here?”

“Please, I could practically feel you staring at me all night,” that was fully a lie, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Couldn’t help myself. You look great it black,” He gestured to the minidress you wore. It was one of your favorites, so it felt good that he seemed to like it, too.

You grabbed at the jacket he was wearing, running your thumb over the fabric, “So do you.”

The bartender slid your drinks to you, and Mingi picked both of them up. His fingers brushed your own as he handed it to you.

The two of you chatted and flirted for the better part of an hour. The time honestly flew by. You looked over at your friends to see that some more people had gathered around their table. Great. That meant you had time. San chatting away with people meant he wasn’t ready to leave. And you wanted to dance with Mingi. So you for sure weren’t ready to leave. You looked out over the dance floor, it was still super lively. Just crowded enough for you to have fun.

When you set your empty glass down on the bar, Mingi grabbed your hand. He nodded toward the dance floor you were looking at so longingly, “You wanna dance?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, “sure.”

✭✭✭✭

Dancing with Mingi was incredible. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was the fact that he looked so fucking good under the low lights of the bar, but holy shit.

The rings on his hand dug into your waist where his hands were holding you against him. With your head leaned back against his chest, you could feel his breath on your neck. He groan slightly ever time you gripped his hair. It was such a subtle groan that you could only really feel it reverbrate of hiss body.

When he turned you around in his arms, you where quick to place yours over his shoulders, pushing your chest into his. He smirked down at you with both of his hands resting on the lowest part of your back, any lower and he fully would have been groping you.

You danced with him for an indecerable amount of time. You were sweating from the amount of bodies in the room, and you can tell Mingi is too from the sheen on his forehead.

Moving a hand from his shoulder you grabbed the sunglasses, his stupid fucking sunglasses, and lifted them up onto his head. Looking into his eyes for the first time, he winked at you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

He pulled you closer to him, as if it were even possible. You tangled your hands in his hair as the two of you danced together. Communicating with nothing but body movements. Everything was hot, from the air in the room, to his hands on your back. You felt nothing but pure dopamine infused ecstasy.

Most of the time, the men who bought you drinks spent their time with you bragging about themselves and telling you how good you looked in whatever outfit you had opted for that night.

It was rare that you actually had fun with them. That was usually reserved for your friends.

Maybe it was the fact that you had already decided on not going home with him, though that decision was sounding more and more unappealing as the night went on, or maybe it was because you were dancing with a man who just knew how to have fun.

There were no thoughts in you head other than the utter giddiness you felt when his hands squeezed your waist or when his head dipped to your neck as he breathed something in your ear.

Nothing could take you out of this moment. Well maybe except your phone buzzing in your bag. You had felt it buzz around six times before you reached into your bag to see what it was.

Of course, as you suspected it might be, it was Wooyoung. Telling you that he was tired and wanted to go home. You huffed and thought about ignoring it when you saw San approaching you.

Quickly, and without much thought at all, you reached into Mingi’s back pocket. He looked a bit taken aback by the action. When you pulled out his phone, he looked down at you, intrigued.

“Open it,” you told him. He did what you asked, unlocking the device and handing it back to you. You were quick to type in your number with your name. Simple. No emojis. No petnames. He could change it up later if he really wanted.

By the time San had grabbed your shoulder, you had already given him his phone back. And that was it. You let San pull you away. Left him with nothing but your phone number. Not a kiss. Not a promise to meet up. Not a “call me” with a wink. Nothing.

You left him with the hope that, if he really wanted you, he would chase you. At least just a little bit.

✭✭✭✭

Mingi had really pulled through. He had texted you that next night. It was nothing special. He told you that he had had a good time. That he thought you were beautiful, and he’d love to see you again. You texted a bit through the week, too. Casually flirting with each other. Well, it was more of him flirting, and you responding calmly. A completely false persona, because every time he mentioned anything suggestive you were a total wreck. Kicking your feet, giggling with red ears.

Even when he texted you at work.

✭✭✭✭

Working the closing shift was always such a bore. Working until the late hours of the night, cleaning up messes that you had no part in making. It was the perfect storm for a less-than-perfect evening.

Having a friend to join you in that suffering, though, made it just a little more bearable. You had to beg your manager to keep scheduling you with San in the evenings, but it certainly paid off. The restaurant was small, so it was just the two of you at night. Left to your own devices to clean up and close down.

Being alone with him, though, unfortunately, gave him time to lecture you.

You’d just finished mopping the floors in the back kitchen when you felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You smiled a little when you saw who it was.

“Oh god,” you heard San grumble from where he was next to you, also mopping the floors.

You looked up at him, “what?”

“You know what,” he rolled his eyes, “are you actually talking to that douchebag?”

You shrugged, “it’s nothing serious. It’s all just fun.”

“Yeah, it’s all just fun until you actually start catching feelings for him, and then he dumps you like he has so many other girls.”

His words stung quite a bit, but mostly because you knew there was more than a small layer of truth to them. You knew this was far from the first time that Mingi had given a girl this much attention, but you’d be fully lying to yourself if you said that you didn’t like it. His sweet words and constant pet names were something you looked forward to every day.

Which is why you looked back down at your phone despite San’s obvious disapproval.

| mingi: you work at arriba’s right?

| you: uhh…yeah? who told that? and why?

| mingi: no one told me. ive just seen you there a lot

| mingi: and you said you were working tonight so i wanted to know if i could pick you up after your shift

| mingi: my roommate’s gone tonight. thought maybe we could watch a movie or whatever. we’ll have the place to ourselves

Holy shit. He was inviting you over. You’d only been talking to him for a week, but you were starting to wonder if texting back and forth was going to be the extent of this…thing…the two of you had going on.

| you: riiiight… watch a movie…

| mingi: we can do whatever you want baby

| mingi: i don’t give a shit about the movie. i just wanna see your pretty face

You glanced over at San, who was still vigorously mopping the floors in the kitchen. There’s no way you could have Mingi pick you up without him noticing. He was your ride home anyway. You didn’t want to lie to him either though. Which meant you’d have to face the humiliation of telling him you were going over to “watch movies” with the guy he was desperately trying to get you to avoid.

But you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to see Mingi. And you’d be lying even more if you said you just wanted to watch a movie with him. You were trying so hard, though, to make him keep playing this game. To see how far he was willing to go. How much he was willing to chase you.

You couldn’t help it, though, that every time he texted you thought back to him dancing with you at the bar. His hands on your waist and your back. His lips brushed up against your ear. The strands of his dark hair between your fingers.

Noticing your silence, Mingi messaged you again:

| mingi: please baby? i really want to see you

| mingi: i’ll even pick up some takeout on my way to get you

| mingi: and i’ll drive you home tomorrow i promise

Tommorow? Well fuck. You really weren’t sure at first if he wanted you to spend the night, but that much was clear now. Sure, you probably wouldn’t get done at Arriba’s until midnight, but you thought maybe he’d just drive you home super late. But spending the night? Well, that just added a whole new level of intrigue.

| you: fine, i get off at 12. don’t be late

| mingi: wouldnt dream of it

San was still mildly upset at you as the night went on. Well, upset wasn’t really the word, he was more worried you were gonna get your heart broken which you assured him wouldn’t happen because there were no feelings really involved here. Hell, you hadn’t even met up outside the bar yet.

But San’s poor attitude made it significantly harder to bring up this evening’s plan.

“Hey, um,” you started, not looking at him as you wiped down the table in front of you, “I, uh, don’t need a ride home tonight.”

You glanced up to see that he’d stopped wiping down his table.

“Ok,” he responded, resuming his cleaning.

You cringed, that response was almost worse than a lecture, and you told him that.

He shrugged in response, “You’re an adult. I’m not going to tell you what to do. I can strongly advise you against certain things, but I’m not going to stop you,” he met your eyes, “If he makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, though, please call me, ok?”

You nodded.

“I won’t lecture you at all. I’ll just come get you.”

"Thank you, Sannie,"

✭✭✭✭

After counting down the cash and setting the alarm, you were both ready to go for the evening. You checked your phone for the time. 12:14. Below it, of course, was a message from Mingi:

| mingi: im here

[attachment: 1 image]

| mingi: and ive got food

You bid your friend farewell with a hug. When you stepped out into the parking lot, you saw Mingi leaning up against the hood of his car, food in hand. San’s eyes burned into the back of your head as you made your way over to him. Actually, you had more reason to believe he was staring at Mingi rather than at you.

He pushed himself off his car when he saw you coming. He held the food out to you, grinning.

“What’d you get?” you asked, taking the bag from him.

He shrugged, “Just some chicken. I wasn’t sure what you liked. There’s fries in there too, and I’ve got a Coke in the car if you want it.”

“Thank you.” “Not a problem, baby,” he glanced over your shoulder, “Although…is your friend gonna be alright? He won’t stop staring.”

The butterflies you got seeing him call you “baby” over text were nothing compared to the pure giddiness that came from hearing it out loud.

Of course, though, you had to remind yourself that you were far from the only girl whom he’d called “baby” with that voice you’d come to obsess over. This wasn’t about the use of a pet name, it was about how his voice really got you going. But just maybe you did enjoy him calling you “baby.”

“Don’t worry about him. He just doesn’t like you very much.”

“Oh, how refreshing,” Mingi rolled his eyes, but his smirk didn’t go unnoticed by you.

✭✭✭✭

After pulling his car into the parking lot and leading you up four flights of stairs (apparently, the elevator has been broken for months), you arrived at the door of Mingi’s apartment. He pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking the door and pushing it open. He turned around to usher you through the door.

“Here she is,” he mumbled.

You laughed a little, “You refer to your apartment as a ‘she.’”

He shrugged and laughed a little with you, not providing any explanation at all.

You took a glance around the apartment, other than the bedrooms, you could see the whole thing from where you stood in the doorway. It was small, but it definitely was an adequate living situation for two college students on a budget. You walked through the kitchen, setting the leftover food on his counter since you had eaten most of it on the drive here.

When Mingi disappeared into his bedroom, you froze just a bit. He’d seemed super casual over the phone. It was obvious that he definitely wanted to have sex with you but not at all like he’d try to force it out of you. You were kind of under the impression that the ball was in your court on that one. Maybe you had misread the situation.

Despite your confusion, you made a couple of steps toward his room only to see him emerge from the room moments later with some clothes in his.

“I figured you might want to change out of your work clothes,” he says, pushing the change of clothes into your arms. It was nothing special, a black tee and some gray basketball shorts. “If you want you can use the shower too. I cleaned it yesterday, too, so you don’t have to worry about anything.” He laughed, scratching the back of his head.

You were a little thrown off by his demeanor. Maybe the flirty Mingi you had previously been interacting with had an on-and-off switch, because, right now, he was just treating you like a friend who was crashing at his place for the evening. Not at all like the Mingi who you’d been talking to all week who was desperately trying to get into your pants.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “I actually wouldn’t mind taking a shower.”

✭✭✭✭

After you had finished your shower and, mostly, dried your hair, you and Mingi sat together on the couch. His arm rested behind your shoulders as he scrolled through different shows on the TV.

Holy hell he smelt good. You couldn’t tell if it was just good hygiene or cologne or maybe even just fabric softener, but, nonetheless, you couldn’t help but breathe in and lean closer into his side. When he felt you lean closer, the arm around your shoulder pulled you in just a bit closer. You glanced up at his face which was still focused on the screen in front of you. Illuminated solely by the television screen and the faint light in the kitchen behind you. Your eyes traced his profile watching how his eyelashes fluttered and his tongue absentmindedly played with his lips. They looked soft. Really soft.

Forcing yourself to stop looking at his lips, halting the dirty thoughts that began clouding your mind, you looked back up at his eyes which were focused on the screen ahead of you. Light from the TV reflected off the glassy surface of his eyes. He truly was beautiful.

In all honesty, you felt yourself falling into dangerous territory here. Everything about this situation, him buying you dinner, letting you wear his clothes and use his shower, cuddling on his couch while his roommate was out of town. All of it screamed couple. Right? Why was he treating you like a girlfriend? You knew for a fact that wasn’t his angle here. Or at least you thought. God this was so frustrating. Why couldn’t you just relax and enjoy yourself in the arms of a beautiful man? This is why you never went home with guys. You would spend the entirety of your night micromanaging your thoughts and overanalyzing the situation.

Subconsciously, in the midst of your chronic overthinking, you had pulled away from Mingi just a little, but it was enough for him to notice and look down at you.

“You good?” he asked. Setting the remote down on the couch next to him.

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came out. Maybe I should kiss him. You thought. That would make it clear what you wanted. Give him some indication. No that’s a terrible idea. And an impulsive one, too.

He found your speechlessness endearing. He laughed softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, brushing your jaw with his fingers and swiping his thumb softly across your cheek.

Well, fuck. You lost all restraint over yourself in that moment.

Holding his hand against your face with your own, you leaned into him and kissed him. He hummed into the kiss, smirking slightly as his moved with your own. His lips were just as soft as you imagined. Like velvet when they passed over yours. And fuck he tasted good, you could tell he had definitely freshened up while you were in the shower.

You sighed even further into the kiss when his hand moved down to your neck. Throwing one leg over his lap, you straddled his waist. He kissed you even harder now. Playfully biting your bottom lip. Pulling at it before kissing your chin. Then your jaw. Down your neck. All the way to your collarbone.

His hands dug into your hips much like they had when you had danced together the weekend prior. Your hands gripped his t-shirt. Failing to contain your anticipation.

“Baby,” he whispered, the depth of his voice shot straight to your core, “how far do you wanna take this?”

You whined, grateful he was defining boundaries but overwhelmed with the fact you had to tell him how you wanted it, “Please, Mingi.” You breathed out a heavy breath, “I need you.”

He smirked, his demeanor changed ever so slightly. Noted. You thought. He liked it when you begged. “Come on, baby. Tell me what you want.”

Burring your face in his neck and gripping his shirt tight, you rolled your hips. Grinding your core into him, “Mingi,” you moaned softly, “You’ll make me feel good, right?”

“Of course,” and apparently that was enough for him because, in the next moment, he pulled the shirt you were wearing over your head. Leaving your bare chest exposed to him.

He shifted you slightly. Motioning for you to lay back on the couch. You did, and he was quick to start kissing at your chest. His lips brushed over you collar bone. He kissed down your sternum and reached your belly button before coming back up to kiss your breasts.

You gripped his hair as he pulled a nipple into his mouth. Biting at it as he massaged the other one with his hand. He wasn’t wearing his rings right now, but you could only imagine how it would feel. The cold metal against your skin.

With his mouth occupied, you felt a hand slip under the waistband of your shorts and past your panties. You gasped, loudly, when he slid his finger through your folds. He hummed contently when you arched your back into him as he slid the finger into you. Adding another soon after you.

His thumb played with your clit. Slowly. You could tell he wasn’t trying to make you cum right now. He was doing his do-diligence and prepping you. You had no doubt that he could make you cum if he wanted to or else he wouldn’t be so popular with women. You had heard stories about nights with Mingi, and everyone was always overwhelmingly positive about his skills in bed.

Your eyes rolled back slightly when he slipped a third finger into you. Mouth open in a silent moan that came out as nothing more than a little whine, you threw back your head.

Shortly after though, he pulled his fingers out of you. He pulled off your shorts and panties together before ridding himself of his own pants and underwear too. Fuck, he was big. He smirked when he saw you looking, “You can take it. Right baby?”

You nodded breathlessly, “Mhm.”

When he hovered back over you, you gripped at his shirt. Trying to pull it over his head. He helped you out. Reaching behind his back to pull the tee over his head. You would have spent more time admiring his build but he was back to kissing you in an instant. His kisses made you so dizzy. You probably could have just kissed him for hours if you weren’t so undeniably horny.

You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t even notice when he’d slipped on a condom. You whined when he slid his length between your folds. He held down your hips when you started to roll them. Begging for something to touch your clit that was almost throbbing for attention.

“Don’t be so greedy, baby. I’ll take care of you.”

And that he did. The moment he slid into you, you lost all control of yourself. Your nails dug into his back as he thrust into you. Painfully slow at first.

“Please,” you begged, “faster…” You wrapped a leg around his waist, pulling him closer.

His thumb furiously rubbed at your clit as he thrust into you. Faster and deeper with every movement of his hips. You gripped at anything you could, his shoulders, his hair, his back.

You were so undeniably lost in your own pleasure. Your mind was foggy. All you could think about was this beautiful man, furiously fucking you, grunting in your ear, and breathing on your neck.

Even though you thought it was impossible, his thumb moved fasted on your clit. When he hit just the right angle you cried out, and he could feel you tighten around him.

“Oh?” he asked between pants, “Right there?”

“Fuck! Yes, right there!” your head lolled to the side as you felt your orgasm approaching. Your legs shook as they wrapped around his waist, holding him close. With one final movement of his thumb, you came around him. Your walls fluttered as you reached that incredible high. “Oh god!” You cried out.

“Shit,” he grunted, “I’m close, baby. Hold on.” With a couple more thrusts into your sensitive pussy, he came into the condom.

He fell forward on top of you. His arms or either side of your head held him up so he wasn’t crushing you. Your chests both heaved.

“Wow,” you said, breathlessly.

He laughed and kissed you softly, “Was it good?”

You nodded, “Great.”

When you looked into his eyes, his beautiful eyes, you momentarily forgot that you were not supposed to get your feelings wrapped up in this. Sirens rang in your head as he kissed you again, but, if he was gonna fuck you this good, you could ignore them for just a little longer.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ayyeeee it's done!! i honestly don't know how considering i have midtrems this week 😅 anyways, this has been in the drafts for about two months, and i'm glad i finally decided to start it!

if you enjoyed, please let me know! i absolutely LOVE hearing feedback whether it be through my inbox, comments or reblogs.

not sure when the next chapter will be released, but if you want to join the taglist you can lmk here or sign up here :)

#ateez smut #ateez x reader #mingi x reader #mingi smut #song mingi series #song mingi x reader #everyonewooeverywhere

647 notes · View notes