#1.7k words more or less

[i-like-loserz]

favorite spots ⋆.˚

synopsis: i just want to talk about the most sensitive parts of their bodies...

featuring: hongjoong, san, and mingi

word count: 1.7k

warnings: SMUT (18+), soft!boys, oral fixation, biting/sucking lips, pda, french kissing, finger sucking, blue-balling (lol), groping, nipple play (m), hickies, for san -- reader has hair that fingers can grip into, mild choking, dry humping, premature orgasms, they're sensitive and aren't afraid to show it

masterlist

✧ HONGJOONG - MOUTH/LIPS ✧

Hongjoong isn't a big pda guy.

The most he does is rest his hand on your waist, hold your hand, or gently fix your hair. Words of affection or acts of service are big in your relationship, but kissing is absolutely a no-go.

Not in public, at least.

In the beginning of your relationship cute pecks on the lips were allowed, though Hongjoong would start acting more antsy and possessive after (you didn't notice as much as his friends would). Short kisses lasting less than a second he could handle -- or that's what he'd convince himself.

Beneath the surface, however, he was holding himself back. He was exerting a concerning amount of self-control over himself every time he tasted your sweet lips, willing himself to hold back from instantly melting against you.

His hands would squeeze into a fist as he'd watch you with dark eyes, going back to whatever you were doing, acting so unaffected -- as if you didn't leave him wanting for the rest of the day.

At the time, you could tell that he enjoyed the affection and attention (a bit too much), and you were more than happy to dish it out. But then one day, he started to shy away from your kisses, turning strategically so you'd kiss his cheek instead of his lips.

At first you thought it was because he wanted to keep your relationship private. He's never been the type of guy to flaunt you like an accessory, so it made sense why he acts so low-key about your love life when in public.

But then you started noticing how he'd act after you'd give him more than a peck.

---

A make-out between the two of you usually leads to sex.

Okay, scratch that, it always leads to sex.

It's like he can't help himself.

As soon as your tongue traces the seam of his lips, he's roughly pulling you against him. He overly indulges in tasting you, laving his tongue against yours as he moans wantonly into your mouth.

You thought he was just enthusiastic about sex, but it was something else that had him shivering against you.

So you began subtly experimenting with your boyfriend:

Tracing his lips with the soft pad of your finger as you feed him a juicy chocolate-covered strawberry (he'd look up at you with those adoring brown eyes as he obediently slurps up the sweet juices from your skin)

Playfully nibbling on his bottom lip to draw out a delicious growl from him (he couldn't hold himself back from grinding his hips against yours like a dog in heat, overwhelmed by the pleasurable pain)

Forcing him to suck on your fingers as you ride him roughly (you could feel the vibration of his broken groans as you pressed down on his silky tongue)

It became increasingly clear that Hongjoong's lips were a bit more sensitive than the average person. The real test was a kiss in public.

It was right after one of his concerts. You were so proud of your boyfriend that when he finally got off stage, you jumped in his arms and pressed your lips to his, eager to give him a deep kiss.

His hands, wrapped around your waist, tighten their hold on you as soon as your lips met his, pressing your body to be flush with his.

Barely a few seconds into the kiss, you feel it, pressing so eagerly against your stomach.

He's hard already, throbbing for attention under his tight pants as his slick tongue meets yours in desperation. His adrenaline from performing may be influencing his sudden boldness, but it's the kiss that was making him so hot and bothered.

"Mmph~" You try to break the kiss, worried that you were receiving stares from others, but he won't let you.

"Not yet, baby" He whispers hotly against your mouth.

"Hongjoong--!" You hit him playfully on the chest as you force him to separate from you. "Later." You grit out, handing him your jacket to use as a barrier between his obvious boner and everyone else.

Your face is heated with a blush as you turn to look around at the sly smirks that the others were sending you. It seems to sober him up a bit as he awkwardly coughs and starts a speech commending everyone for a great show.

So now you know -- Hongjoong's lips are for home.

✧ SAN - CHEST ✧

You were the one who sprouted a sudden obsession with his chest.

He's been working out a lot lately and he loves showing off, even if he doesn't admit it. He comes home in his tank tops or compression shirts with a shy smile, subtly flexing until you say something.

"Ooh, look at my boyfriend!" You tease, smiling as he saunters through the door. "He's so big and masculine~"

San laughs gently, shaking his head at your words (+ slightly fluffing his hair). He loves the way you dote on him, period -- small hands feeling over his biceps and showering him with compliments until he's pink in the face, begging with cute boba eyes for kisses and cuddles.

When you cuddle with him, naked -- or nearly there, your hands are like magnets to his chest. It's just so built and his skin is so hot and smooth, you can't help it!

San didn't get it at first, simply amused by the way you knead his skin like a cat. Sometimes you get particularly feral and start biting his biceps and shoulder -- another odd, yet endearing habit you've gathered recently.

He has started working out with longer-sleeved shirts because he's dotted with bite marks and bruises all over his upper body (with a few on his thighs and one on his cute butt).

You can't get enough of his body and he loves it.

But biting his chest -- that he wasn't expecting.

And he didn't expect that he'd like it so much either.

--

You were timid at first, placing soft kisses against his ribs and torso before gradually moving upwards.

He shivered as you brushed your lips against his right pec, his skin already buzzing from the lustful look you had in your eyes as you assessed his body.

You pressed gentle kisses over his skin, drinking in the soft sighs that fell from his pretty lips.

He gasped quietly when you gently licked over his nipple, flicking your soft tongue over and around his sensitive bud. Your eyes glanced up at him to see his reactions.

His pink lips were plump and shiny, bitten so deliciously from his attempts to ground himself, not used to this new sensation you were giving him. His flushed chest was rising rapidly under you, unwittingly pressing himself closer to your mouth.

He let out a whisper of a groan as you sucked his nipple in hot mouth, laving your slick tongue over him. A shock of pleasure traveled straight to his cock, making him achingly hard for release.

You squeaked as fingers were suddenly weaved into your hair, tugging slightly at the roots -- not pressing you closer or pulling you away.

You moved your mouth to the other pec, giving his other nipple attention. His hold on your hair became harsher the more you'd suck on him. And you loved it.

You moaned with him as you pulled him into your mouth, teeth just barely pressed against his skin.

"N-nghh~" He shivered, "Baby -- fuck -- p-please."

"What is it?" You swiped a finger over his hard nipple, finding the pleading look on his face to be unbearably adorable.

"I'm gonna bust if you keep going." He groaned softly as you pinched him teasingly, "Lemme get inside you."

"I don't know... I think I'd like to see you finish from this..."

✧ MINGI - NECK ✧

Mingi is a very sensitive boy, overall.

When your fingers intertwine with his, he can't help but squeeze your smaller hand in his, staring down your hands like he can barely believe that you're allowing him to touch you -- even as innocently as this.

When you press sweet kisses to his lips, teasingly and soft, he's instantly smiling against you from happy he is, pressing harder to deepen the kiss and eliminate the space between you.

When you drag your hand over his thighs, settling to your knees in front of him, he holds himself back from throwing you on the bed and fucking you into the mattress.

He's constantly overwhelmed with his affection for you.

Everything is intense for him.

But when your small fingers wrap around his neck, squeezing so gently as you pull him in for another kiss -- he almost makes a mess in his pants.

You sit above him, weight settling nicely over his lap, pinning him to the couch as you lick over his puffy lips.

Mingi whines against your lips as your grasp tightens around him, loving how his head grows hazy from the way you control his breathing.

His cock throbs under you as you start to pressing wet kisses on his chin, jaw...and his neck. Your slick tongue flicks over his heated skin, laving over fading marks that you've left over the past few days.

"Like it?" You whisper, staring up at his flushed face. He shudders as you drag the edge of your teeth against the crook of his neck, eagerly leaning into the feeling.

"You know it do..." He groans deeply as you suck his sensitive skin into your mouth. His large hands hold you by the waist, pressing your body down against his as he grind against your ass, making you feel how desperately hard he is for you.

You suck harder and his hips jolt against yours, stuttering deliciously as he mewls from the intensity.

"F-fuck -- wait --"

You don't. You go to that spot right under his ear, the one that makes him lose it, and suck another love bruise into his skin.

And it ruins him.

His back arches slightly as he throws his head back with a broken moan. You release his skin, licking your lips as you watch him shake under you, panting out heated breathes, coming down from his high.

"So sweet." You coo, comfortingly rubbing a hand on his chest as he starts to calm down.

"It's embarrassing..." Mingi whines. This isn't the first time this has happened.

You place a gentle kiss on the spot, pulling away when he starts to shudder again.

"I like it."

[casuallyanidiot]

Group Participation!

Group project for a class where everyone hates each other, but they somehow fall in love with you???

Yandere! m Academic Rival! x gn! Reader x Yandere! m Nerd!

Dead Dove Do Not Eat! MDNI! Tw. Noncon, Yandere, Dubcon, Oral, Voyeurism, semi-public sex, recording

1.7k words

When you got your assigned partners for the assignment, you actually considered just dropping out entirely. The two names on the paper were of the two people that had made your academic career an absolute nightmare.

Yandere Academic Rival is pissed that he has to work with you for once.

It’s not like you guys are nearly on the same level, so Elias just knows he’s going to have to be on your ass to make sure that you’re not going to manage to fuck this up for everyone. His normal opportunity to try and show you up has been dashed, and now he’s passive aggressively adding notes on to literally anything you write.

“I just feel like this is taking too much space. We can cut down on the word count much more if we remove this part.”

“Dude, that's literally just our hypothesis”

“As I said. You should let me write this part. It will be much better.”

He’s so set on taking over bits of your project, but then he whines about how much he has to do. He spends hours nitpicking everything your group does, but he seems to love focusing on you in particular.

“Come on. You should at least come with me to dinner. I’m staying here after hours to try and fix your mistakes."

“What the- no one asked you to do that???”

“Well, we might as well punch in the failing grade ourselves if I don’t. Sit down. You’re not going anywhere until I can thoroughly check what you’re up to.”

Yandere Nerd isn’t much better.

You had hoped that Marcus would tamper down on his creepiness now that there was someone else present when you interacted with him, but you had no such luck. 

He’s a lot more brazen in his advances now. His hand tries to worm its way between your clenched thighs under the table, prodding at your crotch with a mischievous grin like you weren’t sweating bullets. He likes to insert your nudes into the shared draft at ungodly hours at night, making you constantly have to be on the lookout to remove it before Elias would see.

Now, Marcus is smart. Smarter than both you and Elias. Getting him on this project was a guaranteed first class mark in the bag, but it was a goddamn headache making him do anything. You literally had to get on your hands and knees to beg him to do his paragraph on the introduction page. He took a photo, grinned, and finished it flawlessly in less than an hour. You shuddered to think what he would ask of you next.

It wasn’t just him, either. You had been doing your best to manage them both, but it was getting out of hand. Not to mention, but Elias was getting more and more needy.

“You’re working with me today. Not him.” He would scoff in disdain, grabbing your wrist and tugging you off to crowd you against some cafe booth while he tried to get you to drink a coffee you could barely afford. It was hard to keep up with his insults when Marcus would be firing off texts saying “Bby where r u? :(“ followed by a photo of his weeping cockhead. For whatever reason, your so-called rival kept wanting to dig through your phone to see what could possibly be taking up so much of your time. You had to appease him by sneaking off together to the bathroom so you could suck him off so he would drop it.

“God you’re so filthy. I bet you would do this for anyone, wouldn’t you?” He’d hiss between moans. As much as he acted like he was above you, he couldn’t stop the whimpers pouring from his lips as he came down your throat. He couldn’t stop the little admission of love when he thought you were too busy swallowing, either. 

Your days were filled with a delicate balance of trying to finish your work, corralling the two of them into actually making progress, and staving off their demands for more and more time with you by trying to make them cum in random spots around campus. A hand job here, and thigh job there, and you were nearly finished with this stupid ass assignment. You’d done a pretty damn good job stopping them from finding out about each other too. Their whispered threats about what would happen if they caught you with anyone else rang cold in your ears every time they tried to ask for more.

It all came crashing down when Elias snapped one day. You were sitting in a study room that had been booked so you could actually try and edit this damn thing properly and just be done. Your fingers flew across your keyboard, the noise filling the otherwise silent space between you. You didn’t notice when he stopped, but you did notice when he was suddenly right next to you, his shadow looming over the words on screen. You paused, sweat forming on the back of your neck.

It was a blur after that. His hands were tugging at your clothes, bending you over the desk as papers and pens scattered to the ground. “You’re so fucking annoying,” he panted in you ear as his hips snapped against yours. The sound of skin on skin replaced the ambience of a productive workflow, and you were left scrambling and stifling your moans. 

“Always going around, looking at me like I mean nothing. You think you're better than me? You think you don't need me?” He was rambling, his hand on the back of your throat as he held you in place. He was angry, but there was a desperation to his words. It was like he needed you to affirm his words, to tell him everything he'd been hoping that would tumble from your lips for weeks at this point. You were no stranger to getting pounded at this point, but there was an urgency to the way you tried to plead with him to stop. 

“N-ngh~! Elias you gotta hah, y-you gotta stop. Marcus is on his-” He shut you up with a kiss, his lips sliding against yours as he cradled your face.

“Shut the fuck up,” he demanded, his voice ragged as he squeezed your neck in slight warning. “Don't mention that asshole. You're… you're always with him. Do you like him more than me? Tell me. Tell me right now or I'll make it so you can't sit for a whole week,” he demanded, and you could practically hear the insecurity dripping from his tongue. He didn't even give you time to answer. He just shoved you against the table again, your chest flush with the wooden surface. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see your face down phone lighting up. The vibrating notifications were sporadic at first, but the longer you didn't answer, the more frequent they became. Your stifled pleas for mercy were only met with grunts, and it wasn’t before long before your toes were curling and a heat in your belly grew more and more prevalent. But before you or Elias could finish, the door opened. 

Marcus just stood there for a moment, a genuinely shocked look on his face. You could have sworn Elias smiled, like it was some kind of victory to show how you were on the brink of orgasm to the guy he’d been quietly jealous of this entire time. But then, Marcus just grinned. It wasn’t genuine. You knew him well enough to know that.

“Oh? What do we have here?” 

You’d never known his voice to be that smooth, that controlled. Marcus locked the door behind him, his face unreadable as he walked in and pulled out his phone. Elias moved to cover you now that he was done showing off, but the other man put out his hand to stop him silently. You trembled beneath him.

“Oh please, there’s no need to stop for me,” he smirked, practically shoving his screen in your so-called rival’s face to show off a video of you sobbing and moaning while stuffed full of a cock that was certainly not the one currently inside of you right now. “ I’ve already seen it all,” he practically sneered. Elias’s grip tightened painful on your hip, and you panted as you craned your head to see his expression. He went pale before his face flashed with fury.

“You fucking asshole-!”

“Please, like you’re not doing the same thing right now. I should’ve known to keep them on a tighter leash,” Marcus sighed and brushed his hair back as he fixed his glasses and approached the other side of the table you were currently bent over. He wordlessly undid his belt and pants, his dick slapping you across the face as he fisted your hair far harsher than he normally would. You barely got a word in, trying to argue for your innocence before you were choking on his length. You coughed loudly, but they ignored your struggling to stay locked on each other. 

“There’s no point in arguing,” Yandere Nerd’s voice was sharp and cold as his hands worked your head. “We might as well work together until we can figure out how to deal with this,” he sighed, frustration simmering under the surface.

Elias looked genuinely taken aback, but he gritted his teeth as he started up the effort of fucking into you once again. Your eyes widened as you tried to get out of being fucked from both ends. Every time you tried to moan or cry out, Marcus’s tip could shove deep into your throat, causing you to gag. Your toes curled, and your back arched as you spasmed. 

“Fuck you,” he snapped between groans, his breath hitching as he switched between lovingly stroking your lower back and nearly breaking the table. “Fine. We’ll have to keep them in line. I didn’t know they’d be running around getting fucked like some low class- ngh!” He cut off his rambling as he leaned in and suddenly started pressing kisses and bites to your shoulders.

“Maybe a- shit yeah breath baby. Maybe a tracker for good measure,” Marcus suggested between snarls. “We can split the costs.”

Your stomach sank as they started to discuss the logistics about how to keep you quiet and pliant between the two of you while they kept thrusting into you like you weren’t even there. You sobbed, the sound muffled pitifully. Who knew that, this whole time, they’d actually been able to work together just fine?

[yasministration]

parent-teacher meetings - remus lupin

summary: professor lupin hates having meetings with parents. but maybe he hates them a little less after meeting you, a single mother to the kindest student he has taught. wc: 1.7k+ pt ii

If there was something Professor Remus John Lupin hated more than anything, it was having parent-teacher meetings. There was something about having to owl parents about their kids’ behaviour or academic performance that made him feel guilty, as though he was snitching on a good friend. But sometimes, it was crucial.

Remus paced in his office for thirty minutes before you were scheduled to meet him, his sympathetic system tossing him into fight or flight mode. Would you be a kind parent, with the best interest for your child, or would you be a strict, unwelcoming person who took everything from him as an attack? Godric, he wished it was the former.

At four o’clock sharp in the afternoon, the dreaded knock of Remus’s office door was heard. The professor scrambled up to get the door, patting down his clothes one last time before swinging it open. His jaw almost dropped. You were absolutely beautiful, wrapped in a warm coat that only exposed the bottom of your shins and feet, clad in tall heels. Clearly, you had just come from work, Remus thought. “I apologise if I’m late, Professor Lupin, I came straight from work.”

You knew you were right on time.

Remus shook himself out of his daze, stepping aside so you could enter his office. “You’re right on time, Mrs. l/n.” You smiled gently at him, heels clicking on the floor as you moved to sit in the chair he gestured to. “Oh, I’m not married, Professor Lupin.” Great, he had already managed to embarrass himself. “Oh, I apologise. Devon did mention it was just the two of you.”

Ah yes, Devon. The entire reason you were here.

Merely a naive first year, eager, pushing his glasses up his nose as he scurried over to his next lesson. He was a bright kid, the kindest one Remus knew, and he was failing almost all of his classes. “Has he done anything wrong?” You asked, a sudden look of worry overtaking your features. “Right,” Remus cleared his throat uncomfortably. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. “I told Devon to come meet us in fifteen minutes, because I wanted to discuss the situation with you first. As you know, the academic reports for the first term will be out soon, however, Ms. l/n, I have to warn you, it’s not looking good.”

Remus feared you might cry with the way your face fell, so he just kept speaking, hoping something would make you feel better. He heard the pace of your pulse increase, going unsteady. “Devon is an incredibly bright wizard. He’s the first to pick up every spell, and participates in class all the time. His enthusiasm to learn is truly admirable, but when it comes to assignments and assessments, he seems to fall short.” Your eyes turned glassy, and you brought your gaze down to the hands folded in your lap.

“I can’t believe it.” Remus felt a pang in his chest at the way you said the words, helpless and guilty. He wanted to stand up and give you a hug. “I thought he was doing perfectly fine. We send each other owls all the time - I, I don’t know why he wouldn’t bring up the fact that he was struggling.”

Remus stood up from where he sat at his desk to come sit down in the chair next to you. He placed a friendly hand on your shoulder. “It’s normal for kids to want to impress their parents. And, don’t worry about it. The reason we’re having this meeting now is so that we can figure what the problem is early on.” When you met Remus’s eyes again, he saw that they were filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Professor Lupin, I don’t know why I’m-” You cut yourself off the second you heard your own voice break, immediately looking away from the professor.

“I don’t want you to feel like this is your fault, okay? We’ll sort things out together. I honestly called you in for this meeting because I actually have a suspicion to why I think he may be struggling.” Your head snapped towards Remus, eyes wide, and Remus extended a hand to wipe the tears away from your cheeks before realising that you were the mother of one of his students. He felt his cheeks go hot, pulling his hand away from your face.

“I think Devon might be dyslexic.” You straightened your posture, sniffling slightly, and your faced morphed into one of realisation. “Oh my god. How did I not notice?” “It’s normal for you not to. I only noticed it may be a possibility because I’m dyslexic myself.”

“Oh.”

But before Remus could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. You frantically wiped away at the tears on your cheeks and straightened your posture, watching as Remus walked over to the door. It’s normal for parents to want to impress their kids, he realised. “Hiya Professor Lupin.” Devon greeted in his usual cheery voice. “Hi Devon.” Remus moved out of the way, and Devon’s eyes bulged out of his face as his eyes landed on your now standing figure. “Mum!” He yelled, running over to you and throwing his arms around you in a tight hug. Cupping your son’s cheeks in your hands, you ducked down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Why are you - oh. Did Professor Lupin tell you about my grades?” He asked, voice much lower, eyes fearful for any disappointment you might hold on your face. “Yeah, he did, Dev.” Devon frowned, letting you guide him by the hand to sit down. Sitting in front of him, you brought your voice down so only he could hear you. So you thought.

“I’m not upset, Devon. I just wish you told me you were having trouble. I thought we trusted each other enough for that.” Devon nodded at your words, swinging his feet above the ground. “I know. We do. But I didn’t want you to worry.” You chuckled lightly, a fond smile on your face. “That’s sort of my job though, isn’t it?” Devon shrugged his shoulders, not meeting your eyes as he mumbled “I guess.”

Remus’s heart warmed at the sight. He couldn’t believe that he was worried about meeting you. You were so motherly, he thought. So caring. In fact, Remus couldn't believe that you weren't married. Remus stepped forward to sit in front of his desk, interrupting the moment between you. “Devon, can I ask you a question?” Remus asked. The boy silently nodded. “Do you have trouble reading? As in, do you find it difficult to process things after you’ve read them? Or have trouble writing things down?”

Devon’s only response was “I know how to read.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Devon. I know how to read too, but I always have trouble understanding things after I read them. Sometimes the words even look like they’re moving on the pages for me. And that makes it difficult for me to write sometimes.” Devon’s head snapped up to look at his Professor, mouth agape with a silent question. “Come here for a second.” Remus said with a nod of his head towards him. Devon obliged, trudging around the desk as Remus pulled out a textbook from one of his drawers.

Flipping over to a random page, he looked at Devon expectantly. “Pain to read, right?” Finally, a response. Devon nodded, looking back at Remus, his humiliation finally fading away. Remus brought his wand up to the page, mumbling something under his breath. He turned his gaze to Devon once more, who was so surprised that he pulled the textbook closer to him, eyes wide with shock as he scanned over the pages. “How did you do that?”

“Simple spell, really. I’ll teach it to you tomorrow after our lesson, alright?” Devon nodded, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the textbook pages. "Devon?" Devon's head shot towards you, and he rounded the desk, returning to you with a smile on his face. "Do you think this will help with your grades? Or are you struggling with your lessons too?" Devon glanced towards Professor Lupin, who was looking at him with the same careful expression as you. He finally shook his head. "No. I think classes are pretty easy most of the time." Remus heard your sigh of relief as a small smile made its way onto your face. You nodded twice, blinking slowly.

“That’s it then, Devon. You can go, if you’d like.” Devon looked back and forth between you and Professor Lupin, throwing his arms over your shoulders in a loose hug. “Winter break is only two weeks away. I’ll see you soon.” You whispered to him, tilting your head down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Okay. I love you mum.” He said, pushing the glasses up his nose, leaving a smudged fingerprint on the lens. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Your gaze followed Devon as he ran out of the office, a slight furrow between your eyebrows. You couldn’t help but worry about him. Standing up, you turned to face Remus, smiling softly to him. He walked around his desk, leaning back slightly on the wooden surface. He only now realised that even in heels, he stood taller than you. “I don’t know how to thank you, Professor Lupin.” Go out with me for coffee, he thought. Instead, the words that came out were, “Remus is just fine.”

You laughed softly, nodding. “Alright, Remus. Thank you for this.” “I’m happy to help.” Remus responded, a smile making its way on his face at the sound of your heart speeding up. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

He saw you two weeks later, standing on platform 9 3/4, snuggled warmly in a coat, scarf wrapped around your neck to keep you warm. The bottom half of your face was fully hidden, but when you spotted Devon walking off the train, you lowered the scarf, waving to your son with a wide grin. Remus swallowed thickly, then. Remus hadn’t stopped thinking about you since the meeting.

He hoped he could come home with you for Christmas too.

taglist: @ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe, @hiireadstuff, @superlegend216, @treefairy-28, @kitkatkl, @rory-cakes, @juliet-f017, @fl0weryannie, @tiaajosephin, @why-am-i-like-this18, @theoraekenslover, @animalcrossingshameless, @azure-drag0ness, @dream-alittlebiggerdarling, @dearlizzies, @girlontheblock, @matcha-kitty13, @thenasoneshots

[suh-lee]

' fuck you... fuck you. ' - thanos

𐔌♯ pairing — dom thanos x sub amab!reader

𐔌♯ warnings — smut mdni , slight feminization , blowjob (reader receiving) , drug usage (+ peer pressure) , cursing, implied korean speaking (stuff intended to be english will be italicized) , 'boy' used for reader, cockwarming mention

𐔌♯ word count — -1.7k

𐔌♯ authors note — hi.. had a small depressive episode so i halted my writing.. uhm.. anyways we are so back! and small note.. i literally do not know anything about drugs.. most of the substance use was written with a small amount of research.. if it isnt accurate please imagine it is..

you fucking hated it here. you didn't know where you were, what you were doing, or even the true nature of the other 455 players with you.

anybody could be planning anything against you.. at any time.. anywhere... and you just had no way of knowing.

you knew this was a bad attitude to have when you had nobody else to rely on at the moment, but you just couldn't help the feelings of doubt and possible betrayal.

everyday, as the other players went to grab their small portions of food, you just sat on one of the many bunkbeds and stared, trying to observe everyone possible.

"hey pretty boy," you heard someone say from the floor.

it was that bitch with the highlighter purple hair, thanos. you found him anything less than unendearing. thanos had a habit of constantly breaking out in a freestyle rap.. and they were never really good. as well as seeming to pick fights with everyone there.

yup, he was definitely not the person who you would try to become allies, or even friends, with, even if you were desperate here.

you tried your best to ignore him, continuing to stare off into the lines of people.

"hey bitch!" thanos yelled, "i'm talking to you!"

a soft groan escaped your lips as you slowly moved your head down to look at him, standing like an idiot on the floor.

"what?!" you said in a snappy tone, to which he responded with a smirk.

"i liked you better when you were quiet." he mumbled, climbing up the metal latter to the many bunk beds, finally reaching the one you were on a plopping down.

the slightest look of disgust was on your face as you stared him down, getting a glance of every small detail about him. "are you high?" you mumbled, noticing his bloodshot eyes and overly shaky hands.

"why, pretty boy? ya want some?" thanos said, a smirk placed on his face as he started to reach into the sweater of his tracksuit, where you assumed (more hoped) was where he hid the drugs.

"no, im fine." you spoke in a stern tone.

"awh! you're no fun." he frowned, pulling out a detailed cross-shaped necklace. he turned his head to make sure nobody else was around before lifting the top on the necklace, revealing a small collection of drugs of multiple colors. "....you sure?" he asked in a cocky tone. "c'mon man!! live a little!" he said a little louder than you would have liked.

"fuck you." you mumbled, rolling your eyes off to the side. you looked around at the people in the room, letting out a loud sigh. your gaze looked the purple-haired man up and down, "fine. give me one."

"shit?! yo.. i knew you'd come through!" he said, taking a pill out of the cross necklace and quickly putting it in your palm. "it's crazy strong though. like man."

you placed the colored pill into your mouth, confused if you should swallow or let it dissolve, but you chose the latter. the version of you that existed before participating in these games would've never dreamed of taking a drug... but here you were.

thanos stared at you, a look of anxious excitement placed on his face. the both of you made eye-contact with another blankly, waiting for the effects of the drug to hit you.

..and.. it finally did.

"holy shit.." you managed to mumble. the feeling of hunger in your body was lifted with the drug, as well as the feeling of stress. your mind felt float-y, even causing your body to do the same, even as you sat perfectly still.

"it's strong.. right?" he said as his eyes watched you."

"..yeah.. god.."

"it's not very beginner friendly.. but it'll definitely make this place more fuckin' bearable." he mumbled, scooting a little closer to you.

"how'd you know i was a beginner?" you asked, looking at him with disbelief.

"ay, pretty boy. let's be for real now." thanos started off, "your whole body language is fuckin' rookie if i've ever seen one.. you didn't even know what the fuck to do with the pill."

a sigh escaped your lips as he spoke, "how the fuck does anybody put up with you?" to which thanos chuckled.

"i dunno.. you seem to be doin' a damn good job at it though."

"fuck you." you mumbled, staring at him.

you guys talked for a while as the substance reached it's high in your body. after the conversation, you seemed to be able to tolerate thanos more... even throughout his annoying ass tactics. he seemed to have a difficult time before coming here.. as did you. a light was revealed in thanos with said conversation. one that you were shocked about.

you saw... an attractive male. you definitely couldn't deny that he was a physically attractive man, but you've seen more into his actual persona, and you like it. a lot.

"yo." he finally mumbled, "i'm not gonna deny this.. you're fuckin' pretty. like shit."

"you literally called me 'pretty boy'."

"c'mon man! you don't need to expose me like that." he said, a slight joking tone was hidden under his words.

you guys sat in silence for what could only feel like hours. you leaned a little closer to him.

"can i.. kiss you?" was the only thing you could say, it coming out of your mouth as a whisper.

thanos stared at you in shock, a moment of silence went on, almost making you regret asking, before a small nod appeared on thanos' face.

his gaze glanced around the room, making sure all of the eyes were off you guys before the both of you leaned into each other.. your lips quickly connecting. he put his right hand on the back of your head. it grabbing your (slightly) outgrown hair in a way that was somewhat comforting. your lips kissed, the both of you waiting before bringing your tongues into it. your lips simply sat on each others... until they didn't. thanos lightly bit your bottom lip, asking you to open your lips without actually asking you too. you waited a minute before doing so, his tongue slowly slipping into your mouth, and vise versa. the kiss still seemed slow, so you decided to pick up the speed of your tongue. thanos matched the speed of your tongue causing your arms to swing from the sheets on the bed to his back. your arms tightly wrapped around his torso as his other hand slid to your waist, it lightly rubbing up and down.

thanos waited a moment and carefully slid his cold hand under the fabric of your clothes. he continued to rub his hand against your skin, the icy touch of his fingers sending a shiver down your spine. you pulled away from the kiss and stared at him.

"your eyes.. they're pleading.." he said with a small laugh, his hand trailing up under your top. he did so slowly, the grazing of his fingers making your breath's speed to decrease. his hand stopped on the left side of your chest.

thanos leaned into your ear and whispered, "what a small and perky tit..." he said with a smirk on his face before pulling away and starting to fidget with the nipple.

you never thought having your chest referred to in a way commonly used for females would turn you on... but here you were.. your dick was rapidly getting hard, it slightly poking out through the fabric of your sweatpants.

this movement did not go unnoticed by thanos, his gaze slipping from your face to your pants. he let his hand slide out from under your shirt and placed it on the hem of the tracksuit pants. they were carefully tugged down, just enough to reach the end of your boxers. he placed his hand on your boxers now, looking at you for confirmation that you wanted this, and all you could do was quickly nod. you adjusted yourself to be completely laying down on the bunkbed, as he adjusted himself to hover above your pelvic area. he nodded before pulling your boxers down and watching your dick pop out almost immediately. he teasingly flicked it, receiving a whine from you.

"..how responsive." he teased before placing his mouth on the tip of it.

thanos slowly moved his head downward on your dick, stopping right before he reached your testicles. he looked up at you, before lifting his head up and slamming it back down onto your dick. he continued this a few times, having you quietly whimpering.

you watched his head lift up to look you in the eye, your dick making a 'pop!' sound as his mouth went off of it. "hey. you gotta be quiet, man!" he exclaimed in a hush tone. "the fuck you think that pissy old man's gonna do if he sees this!" he said, clearly referring to player 001. the man who had stopped him from beating up a player.

"sorry." you mumbled, your eyes pleading for him to ignore it and continue.

thanos looked at you with doubt before slamming his head back down onto your dick, your dick hitting the back of his throat with ease. his eyes teared up on reflex as he let out a quiet groan.

"thought we we're being quiet?" you said, teasing him through shaky breaths, to which you received no response.

you watched as his head quickly bopped up and down, each thrust of your dick reaching the back of his throat, you quickly decided you had to come and left no notice before your dick started to release the infamous white liquid. your nut squirted all around his mouth, his head bopping up and down a few more times to rid you of that high before lifting his head up.

thanos stared at you as he swallowed it before laying down, right next to you. he helped you pull your boxers and tracksuit pants back up.

you sat in silence, processing what had just happened. a hand being placed on yours interrupting your thoughts.

"so. pretty boy.. whatcha feel about cockwarming?"

[usagimygoatfr]

the staff?! - lara raj x reader

synposis: lara raj found down bad for a staff

☆ミ fluff, crack, down bad lara

wc: 1.7k

"you have got to be kidding me." lara groans, her bodypack transmitter wasn't picking up her voice for the fourth time in the span of an hour. yoonchae, the ever so observant maknae, sees lara fumbling with her bodypack transmitter for what felt like the hundredth time during soundcheck for gnarly.

the girls sat down on the empty stage. manon and daniela were taking selfies, while yoonchae and megan were bickering about what they should have for dinner.

while the girls were occupied with what they were doing, sophia walks back with a staff. "lara, can you stand up for a sec?" sophia asks. before lara could move an inch, a voice intercepts, "no, it's fine. please stay seated, i'll be quick."

lara's eyes meets the staff's kind eyes, her breathing hitching as she does. "hi, i'll be fixing your bodypack transmitter." she says, offering lara a smile. she kneels down behind lara, the warmth of her body enveloping lara like a hug. lara can smell the perfume that you're wearing from the proximity, and it was making her heart beat faster no energy drink could ever surpass.

lara feels you fumbling with the transmitter, but your touch was gentle. the way you angle your fingers were deliberate, as if you were scared of making her uncomfortable if you accidentally touched her exposed skin because of what she's wearing. she was in a dazed that she didn't hear what you said.

"w-what?" her stuttered words echoing throughout the empty arena. oh she knows she's getting teased later with the amount of stares she's feeling on her.

you smiled, "i see your mic is working now."

oh god, kill her now.

"so..."

"don't start."

"..."

"manon, i swear to god if you don't shut your mouth i will kill you in your sleep." lara threatens, her piercing eyes finding manon's teasing ones. manon raises her hands, "what? i was simply going to ask what you wanted for dinner." she says, like fuck she is. "like hell you are. just get it out while they're not here." lara sighs in defeat. she knew this was a losing battle so why fight it?

"okay, first of, stuttering in the big 2025? the rizz is not rizzing, miss rising global popstar sensation. second, a staff? our manager would kick your ass when she hears this, i'm calling it."

"okay, calm down. our manager has no reason to kick my ass because i was simply..." lara pauses, trying to find the words that could possibly make her situation a little less sticky.

"simply what?" manon teases.

"tired! do you have any idea how many times i had to adjust my transmitter because it wasn't picking up my voice? more times than i should've." oh she was quick with it, "i was just relieved that she fixed it. the performance went smoothly and i couldn't have been more thankful."

manon raises her eyebrow, "sure, let's go with that. i think our manager just might let this one pass."

lara exhales a breath she was holding, "it's the truth!"

manon laughs, dusting off nonexistent dust off her pants as she stands from the couch and walking towards her room. "i would so stutter in front of a pretty girl too, lara raj!"

a week has passed after the 'staff x lara' incident as the girls call it.

they were in the dance practice room, on queue to film the dance practice for their new song gabriela. sophia and yoonchae were doing some warm-ups, while manon, megan, and daniela were goofing off. lara is sitting near the camera equipment having her touch up. she was on her phone scrolling on instagram when she smells the same perfume she smelled last week. the one that made her stutter in front of her members.

lara nearly whipped her head at the direction where the scent was coming from but she stopped herself. her eyes zeroing at her members. from where she is, they won't be able to see what she's up to thanks to the lights in front of them. a quick peek wouldn't hurt, right?

and as if the gods where on her favour today, her makeup artist made her face the left to work on her eyeliner and eyeshadow. her eyes immediately locking in to the person that's been occupying her mind for the past week. the person who's the reason of the endless teasing and the sudden nickname change in their group chat. from 'rising global popstar sensation' to 'miss stuttering mess' real quick.

y/n y/l/n.

lara will be damned if she says you're not her type. beautiful, caring, sweet gentle voice, great with your hands, maybe has no clue that she exists, and an alluring aura. what else could she need?

maybe the balls to ask you out? but she doesn't have balls! and lara will also be damned if she's the one who asks someone out. she's the lara raj for crying out loud. people will literally kill for her number, but you? you're not even aware that she's practically burning a hole in your head with how hard she's been staring at you, and you're here fiddling with the equipment like she's not a few feet away! oh, you are so her type.

"and we're done." her make-up artists says, breaking her out of her trance. lara blinks, begrudgingly peeling her eyes aware from you.

the dance practice went smoothly. they did a few more takes just in case and after they were done, the girls have the rest of the day off.

"guys, can we please have sushi? i want to try out the new sushi place that opened last week. the reviews said they have really good california maki rolls." megan pleas to the group. the girls gave each other a look to see if they were down, "oh, come on! please, guys." megan whines, "lara! if you agree i'll help you get y/n's number."

lara's eyes almost popped out of her head when she heard megan's deal, "sure!" she coughs, "i mean, i have been eyeing that place for a while now. we should go." she says, her voice a lot more calmer compared to her first statement.

megan cartoonishly pumps her fists in the air in celebration.

"sophia, help me!" megan shouts from their her shared room lara, followed up with a loud bang. "sophia, please!"

sophia, always used to such chaos, lazily gets up from the couch, "what, megan?" she shouts. "lara is trying to kill me!"

sophia rolls her eyes, opening the lara and megan's door. "okay, that's enough. yoonchae is asleep and you two are so loud– lara put that vase down!"

megan dashes towards sophia and hides behind her back. "what the hell is happening to you two?" sophia asks.

"that bitch lied to me!" lara snarls, still holding the vase menacingly.

"no, i did not! i said i'll help! i never said i have her number. our manager said you should ask her instead!" megan protests.

"exactly! you said you'll help me, not let me fend for myself!" lara argues, putting the vase back to megan's side of the room.

sophia rubs her temples, feeling her age drastically increasing from being the peacemaker of the group. "alright, everyone calm down. lara, we'll be shooting from seven am to 5 pm tomorrow. why don't you take that time and ask y/n for her number?" she offers.

lara sighs, "fine. this isn't over, skiendiel."

megan audibly gulps, "can i sleep in your room tonight, fia?"

a sighs breaks out from sophia's lips, "go get your pillow."

tomorrow comes around and lara is all dolled up per usual. the studio was filled with staff and directors preparing for the shoot. the six chairs in the center had their names in it.

the girls sat on their respective seats. lara's eyes were trying to find where y/n could be. there were so many staff behind the camera that it made her dizzy from all the movement; so much so that she didn't realize that y/n was behind them, removing the paper that had their names on the chair.

"excuse me, lara. i need to take this off."

lara's eyes widened at the voice, she craned her head so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. "yes!" was all she said, leaning forward so y/n can take the paper off. that earned a cackle from the girls, making lara nearly fall off her seat from embarrassment.

--

after the shoot, lara nearly dashed out of the building. she made a fool of herself in front of you twice! oh lord, she doesn't have any face to show anymore. she was walking so fast she bumped into someone, sending her butt on the floor.

"shit! i am so sorry, lara." y/n scrambles to her feet, offering you a hand.

"n-no, i wasn't looking where i was going. i am so sorry, y/n." lara replies quick, grabbing your hand to leverage herself.

the mess from the collision were everywhere. the papers y/n was holding was drenched in lara's water. lara's eyes widened at the sight. "oh my god! i ruined your... your..." truth be told, lara had zero clue what she ruined. it could be contracts, it could be scripts, hell, it could be the lyrics to their new EP for all she knew.

y/n's chuckle broke her out of her panicking inner monolog, "it's fine. those are just timetables your manager needed a copy of. i have the file with me."

lara sighs, thankful that it wasn't important. "still, i wasn't looking where i was going and look what happened. what can i do to make up for all these." she motions at the puddle of papers.

"you could give me your number."

lara's eyes widened, "my what?"

"your number." y/n repeats. "i-i mean, only if it's okay! i didn't mean to make it sound like you have no choice and you should give me your number even if you don't want to–" and you're a loser too? oh you are so her type. lara grabs your hand, stopping you from rambling.

"do you like matcha?"

an: chat, i lowkey zoned out whilst writing this. also, is it obvious that lara's 'yes!' is stuck in my head?

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[ovaryacted]

PLAYTHING

─ Charlie Reid x fem! reader || WC: 1.7k

SYNOPSIS: You push Charlie’s limits, so he teaches you a lesson.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Age gap implied [Charlie is 50, reader is 25+]. Established relationship. Daddy kink. Sir/Authority kink. Boot riding/leg humping. Dom/sub elements. Mean Daddy Dom! Charlie Reid. Teasing. Edging. Orgasm denial (if you blink). Praise kink. Degradation. Hair pulling. Mentions of past sex (unprotected p in v). Mentions of past oral sex & fingering (f! receiving). Masturbation (both Charlie & reader at different instances). Descriptions of taking nudes & sending them to Charlie. Possible manipulation vibes. Lowkey obsessed Charlie. Mentions of Charlie being a cop. Charlie is a bad bad man, but he's sexy. They match each other's freak real bad. Everything is consensual! I haven't watched Chicago PD so I apologize if this might be ooc.

A/N: I have no words to explain this besides oops & I'm sorry. I blacked out when typing this out and just went with the first thing that popped in my head and finished it in an hour. This might be crazy, might be impulsive, but we love that! This is for the Hatosy Hive & remember guys, ACAB. Proofread by moi. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated. <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

Charlie sits on the couch, knees bent and legs spread, eyes skimming over the pamphlet in his hand, glasses sitting on the tip of his nose. The words on the page blur together the more he reads, the ice cubes in his cup of whiskey off to the side melt together with a clink as seconds turn into minutes. He glances over at the clock hanging high on the wall in front of him; it reads 10:18 pm, a light huff escaping through his nostrils at the adjustment of the late night.

Taking his eyes off of the file, his neck turns to glance down towards the ground, his hungry sight landing on you.

Finally acknowledging your existence, you were too busy pressing yourself against one of his thick legs, arms wrapping around the back of his denim-clad shin. Your bare thighs were on either side of his foot, still covered in the hard leather of the boots he wore primarily for patrols around Chicago, your knees rasping over the hardwood floor below you. The baggy t-shirt shielding your figure left nothing to the imagination, not when he already knew you were warm and wanting underneath the dark material that draped over your bare breasts and lace-covered cunt.

He watches you like he’s done so many times before, black engulfing his irises until nothing but a twisted darkness remains. You try your hardest to be discreet in the way your hips shift over the tip of his boot, strengthening your grip on his leg, nails digging into his calf and suppressing the whimper that almost slipped out when you found the right angle for friction. You pretend like he doesn’t know what you’re doing, how you’re feeling. You make yourself believe that he’s oblivious to how badly he’s corrupted you to the core, so rotten it mirrors the rest of him.

He keeps watching. He can’t stop. He doesn’t want to, nor does he plan on it.

You’d forgotten how long it’s been since he paid you some attention, always so busy running around the city doing god knows what. Walking in through the front door, he didn’t stop to kiss your lips like he usually did when he saw you; a simple smooch on your forehead and a squeeze of your hip was all you got before he made a bee-line to the kitchen for some hard liquor.

Running down the list of possible agitators, you settled on the day being long; the lead he’s been chasing turned out to be less fruitful than he wanted, a loose end abruptly caught off and lost with the remaining tangled mess he was already dealing with. It couldn’t be because he was upset with you. No, it couldn’t be. He’d tell you, right? He’d be the voice of reason when common sense was replaced with the needy headspace of neglect you adopted that latched onto him like glue.

A lost puppy craving recognition and belonging—that’s all you were to him, for him. At times, you couldn’t stand it; you considered now being one of those times.

“Charlie…” you mumbled pitifully against his knee, your chin nuzzling into the harsh material of his jeans. He looks at you sharply, the corner of his mouth twitches in the faintest curve.

So sweet. So pathetic. He only hums, squinting his eyes at you in curiosity, raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry.

“Please.”

It’s all you needed to say, you think that would be sufficient to convince Charlie to do something, anything. But the sickness in him trickles higher up, sticks between his ribs, and embeds itself deep into his bone marrow, stitching itself alongside every nerve and sinew threaded into his very being.

With Charlie, it was never enough with you. He always wanted more—to drink you in and choke on his own greed, to suffocate from his fixation on you.

“Please what?” He asked calmly, a condescending edge along the end of his question, waiting for what he wanted to hear.

“Touch me.” It was bratty, stubborn, and entitled. All the things Charlie gravitated towards when he first met you, and the very things that made him lose his patience. Blinking slowly in your direction, he exhales, quirking his head to the side to scrutinize you.

“And you think you deserve it?”

It was a rhetorical question, at least to you it was. Did you? Did you deserve it? Did you deserve him? Good old reliable, dependable, cool, and collected Charlie?

“I’ve been good.” Lie. “I’ll be good daddy, I promise.” Another lie, but maybe throwing the title he adored so much would help you win your case.

You thought wrong.

A large hand creeps down to the back of your head, tugging your face to meet his piercing gaze. The mewl you release rolls out of your mouth with ease, neck craning to look at him as he bends the slightest bit forward, teasingly close enough for you to smell the whiskey lingering on his breath.

“Don’t fucking lie to me. Not when you sent me those pictures earlier. You think I’ll just let that slide, sweetheart? I don’t think so.”

Oh, that? It may have been a moment of weakness after waking up to the other side of the bed being empty and disheveled, still warm from the ghost of Charlie’s presence when he left for work earlier this morning. Flipping over on your back, your mind drifted to last night—to when you clutched at his head as he unhinged his jaw to lavish his tongue over your clenching hole like you asked, stuffing his thick fingers into your dripping pussy until you cried, until you couldn’t take any more.

That wasn’t until he turned you around and plunged into your waiting entrance, pinning your head to the mattress and pounding into you from behind as you soaked his cock. Your thighs shook so much you couldn’t hold yourself up, sending you to lay flat into the covers to take everything Charlie gave you.

You could still feel the imprint of him inside you when you woke up, his release warm and tucked deep in your body, right where he wanted it to be. The pictures were harmless in nature, a few of you wearing the police academy shirt you stole from him, others with the stretched cotton brought over your chest, a hand cupping the heft of your breast with your fingers teasing over your stiff nipples. The remaining few pictures varied, clusters of you spreading your legs to capture the mess he left behind from the night before, spreading your puffy lips and turning the flash on so he could see the slick already staining your fingers.

You sent the images without a care in the world, didn’t bother to use the invisible ink feature either, letting him see everything all at once. It was a reminder that you were thinking of him, that you were his, that you were infatuated with him the way he trained you to be. He didn’t reply to you after you sent those pictures despite leaving you on read. You knew he saw them at least, going about your day with no additional message or phone call, your phone silent until he sent you a quick text letting you know he was on his way home.

Charlie didn’t tell you that he had to jerk off in his car in the middle of patrol, thanking the high heavens for the tinted windows he installed as he parked in a desolate street to relieve himself of the hard-on he’s been hiding since 9:30 this morning. He flicked his wrist over his aching cock with one hand and held his phone with the other, shamelessly zooming in on the picture of you stuffing yourself with your smaller digits. He came hard with a growl, spilling over his fist and breathing hard through his nose, cleaning up his mess with some tissues in his glove box. He spent the remainder of his day thinking of how he would reprimand you once he got home, how he would rectify this injustice you’ve so rudely committed against him.

You pushed it today, you know you did, but in the end you got what you wanted—his attention. Even through punishment, the distorted parts of you that he nurtured found enjoyment in his torment, his control, in the force he used to order you to keep him entertained.

This was where you belonged, where you were meant to be—underneath him, ready to fulfill every one of his demands no matter how perversive they may seem.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You mumbled, your heart racing when the grip cupping the back of your skull tightened. “I just missed you.”

A dry chuckle sneaks out of him, unamused by your confession. Of course you missed him, you couldn’t get enough of him. He’d consider it a consequence of molding you into the ideal plaything for him to have, not that you had any qualms about it, but it was much more enjoyable to play the part.

“I know you do, but you can’t send me pictures of your pussy when I’m at work and anybody can see it. Or maybe that’s what you want, huh? More eyes on you as if I don’t spoil you enough.” You shook your head at that, ignoring the rush of belittling warmth that streamed between your thighs at the insult.

“You want to make it up to me?” Charlie fights the urge to laugh at the way you eagerly bobbed your head in his hand, angling his foot harder into you, loving the way you moan at the forced contact.

“You’re gonna keep humping my boot until I say you’re done. Maybe after, I’ll think about giving you my mouth and fucking you properly before we go to bed. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.” A simple declaration—an oath of your dedication to give him a reason to stay, to want you. Both ends of his mouth curl upwards in a smile at your helpless reply, genuine and sinister. He was temptation wrapped in a red bow and dressed in rose-tinted glasses; you’d want nothing more than to be smothered by it.

“Good girl.”

Returning to his place on the couch, Charlie leans into the cushion, resuming his faux reading of the file he grabbed before stepping out of the office. Sipping on his whiskey, he listened to your suppressed keens as you bucked your hips into his foot, the hard leather of his boot grinding perfectly into your aching clit, your arousal seeping through your underwear just like he anticipated.

Whatever Charlie Reid says, goes.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

Tagging some mooties I know are interested in this man: @superhoeva @stellamarielu @flofaiiry @abbotjack @ozarkthedog @syd-djarin @letsgobarbs @yxtkiwiyxt @clubsoft @erwinsvow @melancholyy-hill

[crybabystilinski]

FIRST KISS

pairing — bsf!stiles x bsf!reader

warnings — suggestive, nothing really

word count — 1.7k

a/n — i wrote this with buzzcut stiles in mind until the end and i haven't been reading a lot for teen wolf so it's probably really ooc but whatever🤷‍♀️ i didnt feel like proofreading so lmk if you see any mistakes! part two here

thinking about . . . bsf!reader and stiles talking about virginity. first base, second base, further.

thinking about . . . stiles having to admit he'd never even kissed a girl, much less had any actual use for a condom. the one time he did completely failed.

thinking about . . . the way his cheeks would flush when he admits it, his fingers twitching with his usual nerves and embarrassment.

"no, i’ve never—i mean, uh—"

"wait, have you not had your first kiss?" you were hoping he wouldn't notice the smile that crossed your lips. it wasn't amusement, or anything condescending, the question itself was out of pure curiosity. definitely not because you liked him. but the thought of stiles having no experience, you kinda liked.

"i'm not judging. i was just curious." he met your eye after that, a slow and subtle sigh leaving his lips. he readjusted in his seat, jerking his hips forward to lean further back on your couch. "i have not had my first kiss, but i'm sure i'm not missing out on much."

a silence followed his response. one, because it was a fat (and really bad) lie. and two, because you're now trying not to bust from the sight of him alone.

"that was the worst lie i've ever heard from you." he quickly nodded. "yeah."

another silence. another pause.

"do you want to?" you asked him, seeing his eyes flicker with curiosity and surprise. "want to.. kiss you?"

you nodded, now realizing just how bad your suggestion could turn out. you could've just ruined everything. but no, stiles is a teenage boy, he wouldn't be upset about a chance to kiss a girl. no matter who it was. right?

you could feel yourself tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, subconsciously gnawing on it.

stiles on the other hand, was dying. his lifelong crush and best friend just offered to be his first kiss, of course he wants to say yeah. but what if his breath stinks? what if, what if, what if?

his brain is going a million miles an hour, maybe double what it normally does, and your stupidly suductive lip-biting had him feeling like he short-circuited.

"i mean, yeah, obviously."

you had to restrain yourself from smacking your own head. why did you choose him of all people to be annoyingly in love with?

"right, obviously." you rolled your eyes playfully, sitting up to face stiles. when he didn't move, you motioned to come closer. "c'mon stiles, i'm not about to sit on your lap."

he moved to lean up, inching closer. but his hands were held out in the air, clearly not sure where to put them. you couldn't help the quiet giggle that escaped your lips while you grabbed and moved his hands.

you placed them loosely on your waist. "just relax and be comfortable. confident. if something's wrong, i'll tell you, okay?" he nodded, and you could feel his fingers flex against you. he adjusted them slightly, venturing further down, closer to your hips. "is that okay?"

you nodded with a laugh, putting your own hands on his shoulders. a shiver went down his spine, ticklish to his buzzing nerves.

then you leaned in, stopping right as your lips brushed his. you wanted to make it hot, you wanted him to feel how you do for him. and granted, you couldn't do that with just a kiss, but you could definitely make him think about it.

you pulled back less than an inch, feeling his warm breath fan over your mouth, then pushed forward, finally connecting with him. he kissed back, and although it was a little awkward, a little erratic, you liked it. it was stiles.

but you wanted more, and you were pretty sure stiles did. he would randomly push further, like he was going to take control, then he would soften out. you pulled away for a second, no more than a couple inches, and make eye contact with stiles.

his eyes were droopy, flickering back and forth from your eyes to your lips. his lips were parted and slightly plump, darker red than before, and his breathing was heavy and irregular. fast then slow, then shallow.

you were going to be the death of him.

but before either of you could say something, or ruin the quiet moment, you kissed him again.

this time you were taking even more control, a need to be closer to him taking over. your lips began to open more, your tongue diving into his mouth. the clashing of your teeth and your tongues. it was rough, but it felt oddly comforting.

at some point you raised your body subtly, getting leverage over stiles. his hands were gripping your waist tighter, an underlying possessiveness to it that you were blissfully unaware of. all you cared about right now was how hot it was.

he was holding you so rough but so gently, so possessively but so shyly, it was confusing your already need-foggy head.

your mouth slipped away from his own, lips pressing wet, open-mouth kisses across his rosy cheeks and jawline. aside from the obvious reddening from your makeout, his rosy cheeks were a feature you noticed that were always present.

his now grown out buzzcut used to help bring attention to his face. his cute little button nose, his sharp jawline, the constellation of moles scattered down his face. when your lips came across one, they got a gentle and sweet peck.

your leg swung over his lap, putting you on top of him. the position was more confortable, but it was obviously going to have an effect on stiles.

through yout descent, you found a specific spot right below his ear. a spot that, with a suck, a kiss, a nibble, would cause a noise to escape stiles. it was just a soft exhale, but it was jagged in comparison to his smooth breaths. you could feel his body tense under you, along with a rapidly growing bulge. it brushed against your clothed clit, the smallest squeak coming from you that only made stiles hornier.

"fuck." he quietly mumbled in a groan, feeling your lips smirk against his pulse. you slowly continued down until you reached his shirts collar.

pulling away to look at him and decide what to do next, you found his eyes to be scrunched shut, mouth parted and lips glossed over with a mix of your spit and his. a decent sized hickey right where you just were, a proud smile on your face.

"stiles." he opened his eyes, meeting yours. he noticed the way your kiss-swollen lips were smiling in the most mischievous way he’s ever seen. "mhm?" he hummed, missing the way your lips felt on him.

"do you—what do you want?"

a quiet pause, one where stiles’ brain is trying to catch up to the present.

oh.

oh.

the position, his still firm grip, your cold fingers just barely under the bottom hem of his tshirt. what does he want?

"well, what—what do you want?" you smiled, rolling your eyes. deciding to take control again, you murmured, "it better not be like this every time." he nodded, watching the way you took off his shirt so delicately. then he realized what you said.

"wait, every time? you mean we get to do this again?"

you paused, not even realized what you said basically just outright told him your feelings. and now you have to try to have a serious conversation while he’s shirtless.

"well, if you want to."

"do you want to?"

"this isn't about me."

"how is this not about you?"

seeing him get a little frustrated at your defiance, a smile spread on your face. "you have a lot of questions." his facade of serious expression faltered, a loving smile replacing it. "i do. like, why are we doing this?"

your smile however, dropped at that question. you were hoping to get out of it, out of saying it.

"you've never done it. i'm helping you out." he nodded, but it clearly wasn't convincing him. "i'm doing it because i like you, not because i need to kiss someone."

you heartbeat quickened at his confession, "you what?"

"do you like me? or is this just to give me a first kiss?" his expression was light, but the playfulness was gone. "i like you." that was all he needed to hear before kissing you again.

it was surprisingly more heated now, backed by unspoken feelings coming out. it was messy, hot, and wet.

stiles was subconsciously digging his fingers into your side harder, his hips rocking. he was pressing you down, everything rubbing right where it needed to. he let out soft whimpers, ones that he would be embarrassed of if he wasn't achingly hard right now.

you were overwhelmed. with pleasure, with the sight of stiles. his arms, every muscle and every vein, were bulged and covered with a sheer film of sweat from the steamy room. his hands were on you, far enough down that your eyes could make out every ridge in them. and his hair? the small, thin group of dark brown hair, course and slightly wavy, that travelled from his belly button down. it lead your eyes until his pants were in view, blocking the rest.

he started to get more confident. a lot more.

his hands were wandering, cupping your neck and jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses all over your collarbones. his other hand was sliding up your back, his hand bringing warmth to your skin.

he stopped when his fingers hit your bra, pulling away breathless. "d'you wanna go upstairs?" you asked, referring to your bedroom. he licked his lips, nodding slightly.

he watched you get off of him and the couch, your hips having extra sway as you reached the bottom of the stairs. when he realized he was still on the couch, he hopped up with his usual high energy, practically running to follow you.

you gave him a small peck on the cheek, then turned to walk up the stairs, leaving him trailing behind with a smile and a direct view of your ass.

[buckets-and-trees]

Viking Steve stirring from sleep because of a tickling sensation. His first thought is that maybe you're trying to slip away, but you're there, soundly asleep and snuggled to him naked and sated. It takes him a moment to realize... that an orange kitten is trying to climb over him to get to you 🤭

Fierce Affirming Sight of Sunlight

Characters/Pairings: Viking King Steve Rogers x curvy Female!Reader Word Count: 1.7k

Content/Warnings: this one is soft dark; newly established relationship; kidnapped wife; use of pet name (little wife)

Notes: Don't ask me how it happened, but somehow we ended up with no smut here.

Previous Part | Series ↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

The tickling sensation at his ribs drags Steven from the depths of sleep like a fish caught on a hook. His arm instinctively tightens around the warm body nestled against him, his warrior's reflexes responding before his mind fully awakens. For a heartbeat, he thinks you're trying to slip away—to escape the fate he's carved for you with his sword and his body.

But no. You remain curled against him, your breathing deep and even, your naked form pressed to his beneath the furs. In sleep, your face holds none of the wariness that shadows it in waking hours. Something in him warms at the sight. You look peaceful. Claimed. His.

The tickling comes again, more insistent this time. Steven glances down to find tiny orange paws kneading at his side, needle-sharp claws innocently pricking at him, the tiny kitten not knowing the minuscule pain of its barbs. 

The kitten mews softly, its tiny body vibrating with determination as it attempts to scale the mountain of Steven's torso. Dark blue eyes fix on you with singular purpose, ignoring the warrior king it's using as a stepping stone. 

"Determined little beast," Steven mutters, watching as the kitten wobbles precariously on his ribs. The creature had been part of his traditional wedding gift to you—kittens to bring fertility and protection to the household. He hadn't expected one to choose you so quickly, much less invade his bedchamber before dawn. 

The kitten's paws slip on Steven's skin, and it digs its claws in to prevent a fall. Steven winces but doesn't move to dislodge the tiny creature. Instead, he watches with grudging fascination as it continues its journey, finally reaching his chest where it pauses to consider the best placement to curl up next to you before crawling into the crook of your elbow and curling into a tiny ball. 

Steven resists the urge to remove the intruder. The ancient traditions say that a cat choosing its mistress is a sign from the goddess Freya herself—a blessing on the marriage. He's not a superstitious man, but neither is he foolish enough to reject a favorable omen. 

The faint gray light of pre-dawn filters through the leaded glass windows, casting long shadows across the chamber. Outside, his fortress is beginning to stir—servants kindling fires, warriors preparing for morning training, fishermen heading to their boats. His kingdom awakens, unaware that their king lies watching his new queen sleep. 

You stir slightly, your brow furrowing as if troubled by dreams. Your hand moves unconsciously to cup the kitten, fingers tangling in its soft fur. The creature responds with a purr disproportionately loud for its tiny size.

Steven studies your face in repose. He's seen countless beautiful women in his raids across distant shores—some he's taken to his bed, others he's passed over, none he's brought home. Until you. You are different. There's a fire in you, a resilience that withstood his violence. You bend but don't break. 

Steven reaches out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with calloused fingers that have ended countless lives. The gesture is practical, not tender—he wants to see you clearly, to examine what he's claimed. He catalogs your features like territory conquered: the curve of your cheek, the fullness of your lips still slightly swollen from his kisses, the flutter of your eyelashes against your skin. 

You are a valuable acquisition, he reminds himself. A trophy and a necessity. His people need a queen, and he needs sons. The unexpected satisfaction he finds in your company is merely a fortunate circumstance.

He shifts away carefully, disentangling himself without waking you. The kitten opens one eye in mild protest but doesn't move from its place against your warmth. Smart creature.

The cold stone floor greets his bare feet as he rises, muscles flexing against the morning chill. There's work to be done—a kingdom doesn't run itself while its ruler lingers in bed, regardless of the temptation beside him.

Steven dresses efficiently, fingers working the familiar patterns of laces and buckles. His wedding night indulgences these three days since he married you before his people must give way to his other duties. The southern villages report Saxon raids. The shipbuilders await his inspection on their newest vessels. The council of elders has been patient with his marriage celebrations, but they expect their king to return to matters of state.

He glances back at you, still peaceful in sleep, the orange kitten curled against you like a tiny guardian. The sight stirs something in him he cannot name—something beyond mere possession or lust. 

He shakes the feeling away with a scowl. Sentiment is a weakness he cannot afford. 

Steven buckles his sword belt with practiced movements, the familiar weight of steel at his hip reassuring. He is a warrior first, a king second, and a husband third. The order must remain clear in his mind. 

As he reaches for the door, a small sound stops him. The rustling of furs, a faint intake of breath. He turns to find you watching him through half-lidded eyes, the morning light casting shadows across your face. The orange kitten stretches against you, its tiny paws flexing before settling back into the crook of your arm.

"You're leaving," you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep. 

Steven pauses, hand on the door latch. "I have duties," he says, his tone measured, revealing nothing of his earlier thoughts. "A king's work begins early."

You sit up slowly, the furs falling away to expose your bare shoulders, marked with the evidence of his passion from the night before. The sight stirs his blood, tempting him to return to bed, to delay his duties for one more hour of claiming you. 

"What am I to do today?" you ask, and he notes how you've already learned not to question whether you may leave the fortress, but only what your role entails. 

"Helga will attend you," he replies. "Today is soon enough for you to begin learning your duties as queen.”

"What duties?" you ask, your voice stronger now as sleep recedes. 

Steven studies you, taking in the way you hold yourself—dignity wrapped around you like armor despite your nakedness. His queen, indeed. His instincts served him well in choosing you. Even stripped of everything, you maintain a certain grace that both pleases and challenges him. 

"You will oversee the household servants. Learn our customs. Begin to understand our laws." He moves back toward the bed, drawn despite himself. "And you will join me at the evening meal in the great hall. My people should see their queen at my side." 

The kitten mews insistently, pawing at your hand for attention. You absently stroke its fur, and Steven finds his eyes tracking the movement of your fingers, remembering how they felt against his skin last night. 

"I know nothing of your customs," you say quietly. "Your people will see my ignorance." 

"Then you will learn quickly." 

"I'm not afraid of their judgment," you say, meeting his gaze with unexpected boldness. "But I would not bring shame to my position."

Steven’s hand reaches out, fingers curling beneath your chin and tilting your face up. The touch is not gentle, but neither does it hold the bruising force of his battlefield grip. It is the touch of a king to his property—firm, expectant, absolute.

"You adapted well to my bed," he says, voice low with remembered pleasure. "You will adapt to this too." 

Your cheeks flush at his words, but you don't lower your gaze. This small defiance pleases him more than complete submission would have. A broken queen would be of no use to him or his kingdom. 

"Helga has served three queens before you. She will guide you well." He approaches the bed, looming over you. "You have spirit, little bride. Channel it toward becoming the queen my people deserve." 

He bends down, claiming your mouth in a kiss that is both a reminder and a promise. His hand cups the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your sleep-tousled hair. When he pulls away, your lips are parted, your breath coming faster. 

"Tonight," he says, the single word heavy with meaning. 

The orange kitten chooses that moment to pounce on his hand, tiny teeth nipping playfully at his knuckles. Steven glances at the minuscule beast with a mixture of irritation and begrudging amusement. The creature has no idea it's attacking the most feared warrior in the northern lands. 

"It seems your guardian has claimed you already," he observes, detaching the kitten's claws from his skin. "The wise women will say it's a blessing from Freya."

"Do you believe that?" you ask, curiosity evident in your voice. 

Steven considers the question. "I believe in what I can touch with my hands and cut with my sword," he says finally. "But I've lived long enough to know there are forces beyond our understanding." He strokes the kitten's tiny head with one finger. "Whether divine or not, the creatures are useful. They keep the rats from the grain stores." 

He straightens, resuming his kingly bearing. "Name it if you wish. It's yours to care for now, little wife." 

With that, he turns and strides toward the door, his movement fluid and predatory even in the simple act of crossing the chamber. At the threshold, he pauses, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

"Remember," he says, his voice carrying the unmistakable authority of command, "you are no longer a village maiden. You are my queen. Carry yourself accordingly." 

The door closes behind him with a heavy thud, leaving you alone with the orange kitten and the lingering scent of him on your skin. 

His body remembers the warmth of your flesh pressed against his, the softness of your skin beneath his calloused hands, and though he knows the business of this day will make the sun move quickly, he is eager for nightfall and the moment he will drag you back to his bed and ease somewhat the insatiable hunger he has for your body. 

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

NEXT PART: Come Down from Battle

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[em1989ts]

𝒂𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆

five hargreeves x reader

word count: 1.7k

part one. part two. part three. main masterlist.

summary: after discovering your husband cheated on you with his brother's wife, you run off to a different timeline using the subway, only to find a deli crowded with a familiar face.

author's note: this is my first fic that i'm actually posting lol, if anyone sees this i'll be totally shocked

“Just leave me alone, Five.”

You were speed walking down the steps into what looked like an abandoned subway, desperately trying to avoid the man you thought you knew, who was currently right on your tail.

“Not until you talk to me, y/n,” he pleaded, swiftly trying to catch up. 

“There’s nothing to discuss, Five,” you said in a cold manner. 

You just couldn’t speak to him. Not after what just happened in the living room with him and Diego. After what was just brought to light. 

You wanted to laugh, you really did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 

Why would you hear him out? Why would he believe he had a right to explain himself? How could he? A marriage of over half a century, down the drain. And for what? 

Seven years with her.

Lila. 

His brother’s wife. The mother of his brother’s children. The child of the couple he assassinated. 

It made no sense. 

You angrily sped up and quickly got onto the train that was stopped at the station. It’s white light making you more stressed than you already were. 

The doors shut in his face. Just a couple more seconds and he would’ve been on this train. You would’ve been stuck having to hear him try and save face until the next stop. 

Sometimes the universe lets you win. 

But why not this time. 

You stared at him through the window of the subway car doors. He looked at you pleadingly. You looked at him disappointedly. 

Who was he, because he sure as hell wasn’t the Five you had known since you were thirteen years old. Stuck in the apocalypse with nothing but ashes and him.

 You had thought it was fate. You and him were meant to be stuck together, meant to be there for each other. Even after everything that’s happened. Apocalypse after apocalypse after apocalypse. 

The subway started to move. You stayed standing, staring at him with daggers in your eyes until he was out of sight. He didn’t chase after the car, he knew it was pointless. He knew he’d never get you back. He didn’t deserve you. 

Once the outside of the train was completely dark and all you could see was your own reflection in the window, you turned and took a seat. Hands in your lap, looked straight ahead, drained. 

What were you supposed to do now? Where would you go? 

Maybe this train would take you to a universe with a Five that could never dream of betraying you the way your own did. 

The lights shone over you as you were deep in thought. You had no idea where this train would take you, when it would take you. 

Suddenly, the car slowed to a gradual stop and the doors opened. You wanted to stay on, maybe pass by hundreds of stops until you actually got off the train but you heard footsteps passing by the station. 

Something in the back of your mind told you to get off at this stop, that you would find something important. 

You stood and slipped through the doors. As soon as you turned your head to scan your surroundings, that’s when you saw him. 

How could he have gotten here before you? 

Five was casually walking towards a set of stairs when he saw you and stopped in his tracks. 

You glared and felt a flame arise in you as you stomped over to him. 

“I told you to leave me alone, Five. What the hell are you doing here?” you pointed an angry, accusatory finger in his face but he just grabbed your hand and gently held it in his. 

You were confused, he seemed different. Less guilty. More sentimental. 

Your anger faltered as he stared into your eyes with an admiration you were already starting to miss. 

“y/n,” he said sincerely, “it’s been so long.” 

Of course he wasn’t your Five. You had just jumped onto a multi-dimensional subway for Christ’s sake. 

“Come on, follow me,” he said as guided you towards a stairwell. 

As you descended and turned a corner, warm glowing lights filled your sight. A warming, comforting sense of nostalgia flooded your senses. You looked up and read the lights on the sign, Max’s Delicatessen, as the Five you stumbled across led you inside. The sound of a familiar vintage tune filled your ears. 

Immediately, you felt all eyes travel to your frame. Every single pupil in this room belonged to a Five. The man you never wanted to see again. Each one of them looked at you with a shocked and astounded expression.

 The Five still holding your hand paid no attention and directed you into a booth seat. 

As you sat down, you took in your surroundings. The Fives behind the counter preparing food, the Fives taking orders, the Five delivering food, the Fives whispering at tables. 

There were so many of them, what was this place?

The Five sitting across from you looks in your eyes with a knowing look.

“It’s not often we get one of you around here.” 

You shake out of your confused thoughts and reply, “And what exactly is this place?” 

Before you can get a reply, a waiter Five comes up to the table and places two mugs of coffee in front of you and Five. Before he leaves, he places a couple cups of creamer and packets of sugar next to your mug. 

Without answering your question, the Five in front of you smiles and says, “We keep those in the kitchen and not on the tables since it’s really rare to see you.” 

You give him an annoyed look. 

“Can you explain to me what’s going on?” 

“Right,” he sat up a little straighter and took a sip of his coffee. “You hopped on a subway that took you to an alternate timeline. That timeline just so happens to hold a place where us Fives come after we’ve stopped trying to fix the problem.” He largely gestured to the room full of alternate versions of your husband. Ex husband. 

You stared at him for a few seconds, your brain rattled with questions, before you spoke. 

“Stopped trying? You mean trying to save the world?” 

“Stopped trying to fix the broken timeline,” he replied matter-of-factly. 

“The broken timeline?” you repeated in confusion. 

“There’s only supposed to be one, and I’ll bet you can guess who shattered the original timeline.” 

Before you could reply, you heard a bell as another Five yelled out, “We did.” 

Five made a disapproving yet knowing face as he called back, “Why you always gotta wreck shit, Brisket Five?” 

Brisket Five shrugged at him then winked at you before returning back to his work. 

“Okay . .” you started, trying to come up with the right questions, “So, our existence is the cause of the broken timeline. Is that why there’s constantly an apocalypse?” 

“Precisely,” Five responds, before gesturing to the framed pictures on the wall. “By the way, check out the artwork. All the different ways we made our universe go kaboom.” 

You stare at the photographs on the wall, noticing both familiar doomsday and entirely unique ones. Once your eyes reach a certain point along the wall you notice some framed images of you. Different photos of you and Five, living your lives together throughout the timelines. 

The Five across from you notices your curious glimpse. 

“I mentioned we don’t often see you around here,” he explains. “It’s because it’s rare that you survive your timeline.” 

You quickly turned back to him in response to his statement. You don’t survive? How many of the Fives in this room have lost their y/n? Has the Five in front of you lost his? 

“What do you mean?” 

“You and I will always meet, in every timeline throughout the universe. It just seems that fate doesn’t always take our side,” he says solemnly as he looks down at his mug. 

A Five piped up from the booth behind you, “My y/n was killed by the Swedes back in Dallas.” 

Another from a couple tables away said, “Mine died in the apocalypse, but we had a good thirty years together.” 

The Five in front of you looked up at you and said, “In my timeline, the Handler shot you and you died in my arms. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.” 

He gave you such a genuine look. Like he’s felt shame and guilt for so long, his apology was heartbreaking. How could these Fives care so much about you, while your Five forgot all about you. 

“It’s okay,” you looked at him truthfully and took his hand in your, “I’m sure none of your y/ns would ever blame you for their fate, but they would for giving up. They’d want you to keep going, stay strong and do what it takes to save your family and the world. That’s what they loved most about you.” 

You felt bad placing blame on him but you didn’t understand how the man who has spent his whole life prioritizing the safety of his family and overcoming countless obstacles and stopping at nothing to save his family could just give up. Sure it was tiring, but that was the life the two of you lived, together. 

He smiled at you so lovingly it crumbled your heart. 

“Y/n, the doomsdays will never stop coming. The only way to end this constant cycle of saving and destroying the world is if our family ceases to exist.” 

Your heart slowed its beating as you stared at your interlocked hands, contemplating. 

You hated to admit it but he made sense. Whenever your family is all together, everything goes to shit. People always die and the world will always end. 

Before you could respond, you heard the door swing open and a tense tone fell over the deli. 

The Five across from you held your hands a bit tighter as he glanced up at the Five that had rushed in.

Your Five. 

☕︎

part two. part three.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

MORE VIRGIN SPENCERRRRR

from the start | spencer reid x reader

Spencer's a nervous mess in your bed, but you like it.

wc: 1.7k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: puppy bf!spencer, virgin!spencer, early seasons!spencer, hookup, friends with benefits(?), dominant fem!reader, gratuitous use of petnames (baby, darling, etc. but it wouldn't be a minnie special without petnames), praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex

a/n: a weird dream of mine turned into a spencer self-insert (jk) so I wrote 1.7k words just to fuel my delusion. this is also a little birthday gift from me to all of you! i've hit 1000 followers (!!!!) on this little spencer blog of mine and i am so so grateful so the only thing i can do is write spencer smut to celebrate! also this lovely anon asked for virgin spencer and I literally cannot refuse (also crossposted to ao3)

You aren’t complaining, ending up in bed with Spencer Reid again. 

You’d met at a bar, the usually shy genius (according to his friends) coming out of his shell to talk to you, and it had ended in a couple of drinks and you making out with him against the wall in the back of the bar. 

You’d brought him home, fully expecting to fuck him. You’d gotten him into your bed when he’d confessed he’d never done anything like this before, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him you could tell. Instead, you’d given him a blowjob before he fell asleep in your bed after a long week on a case. The next morning he’d bashfully woken up to breakfast, and a promise that you’d like to see him again.

“It’ll be less intimidating like this,” you pet his cheek softly, before you turn over onto your hands and knees. You notice that Spencer doesn’t move, so you turn your head to look at him. 

Spencer frowns. “I thought– I wanted to see your face.”

“You’re sweet, darling,” you chuckle. “Come on. I promise this will be easier on you for your first time. You know what to do?” 

Spencer hums, his eyes shyly looking to your rear now. You’re on display for him, thick thighs framing the wetness of your pussy. You know he can’t take his eyes off you, his inexperience obvious and extremely arousing.

Spencer had been a bumbling mess as you’d kissed him, as you’d undressed each other, his hands trembling through it. “You know you can touch me, right?” You tease, and Spencer whines rather petulantly. “Take all the time you need, baby.”

Spencer’s large hands are on you, gentle on your skin. His hands pet you rather sweetly, over your hips and thighs, before he feels the softness of your ass under his palms. You hear his shallow breathing, and feel his thumbs spread you open. His breath hitches. 

You don’t say anything, patient as you let him explore your body. He touches you with an avid curiosity, like he wants to find out about everything that makes you tick, like he wants to commit the lines and curves of your body to memory. 

His movements slow like syrup, his touch moves to your cunt, sticky with your slick. His fingers slide over your pussy; along your folds, over your leaking hole. “I’m going to…” Spencer trails off, as he presses his index finger gently to your entrance. 

You moan as your head drops between your shoulders, with Spencer sliding a curious finger inside of you. He feels around, and it feels more like a medical exam than foreplay, but Spencer’s lack of experience still turns you on extremely. Spencer’s voice is strained. “You feel so warm. You’re so tight.”

“Yeah, baby, I’m not sure if you’re goin​​g to be able to fit,” you tease playfully, smiling as you look back at him. “You’re going to have to make it fit, won’t you?”

Spencer’s eyes are wide, and he swallows nervously. “Yes– Yes, ma’am.”

“Ugh, you’re so cute– Oh!” You gasp as Spencer’s finger presses into you insistently, nudging against your spongy walls, against the spot that makes you lose your mind. “Mm, right there, fuck–”

Being eager to please, Spencer does exactly that – he keeps fingering you, slow and steady, and waits for your approval. You’re basically melting as he fucks you on his fingers, and you only remember you have a bigger plan until he whimpers. “Hmm, baby?”

“I want to- I wanna taste you,” Spencer says, and you moan as his thumb nudges at your clit.

“You- You sure you can last long enough for foreplay?” You jab, but you shudder in a moan as Spencer rubs at your swollen clit with more intention, pleased with the way he takes you apart.  

Spencer scoffs. “I think I should ask you the same.”

“Eat me out, Spencer,” you demand. Spencer just gets his head between your thighs. 

You feel his mouth on your cunt, kissing you sweetly, moaning as he tastes you. His lips are soft and plush on your skin, his lower lip massaging at your clit as he eats you out. His tongue slides over your folds, wet noises coming from his mouth as he takes his time tasting you. 

“You’re stupidly good at this,” you moan, your face buried in his pillows as you’re barely able to keep yourself propped up. The pleasure Spencer gives you courses through your veins, electric from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You think you hear Spencer mumble a thank you, and the vibrations only make you moan even louder. 

You want to come right now, but you know it’ll be so much sweeter to orgasm when Spencer’s buried inside of you. You don’t know if he’ll be able to handle it, the hypersensitive, easily overwhelmed genius in your bed simply might lose his mind fucking you.

“Spencer, baby,” you coo. “Wanna- Need you to fuck me now, darling.”

A high whine leaves Spencer’s throat, and he’s quick to pull away from you, as fast as he’d put his mouth on you earlier. “Please! Please, I need to–”

You giggle, beckoning him to come closer to you. He leans over your frame until his face is close to yours, and you kiss him sweetly. You taste yourself on his lips, but Spencer is giddy as he kisses you back. He tries to trail after you as you pull away, and the sight is both adorable and extremely arousing. 

“You gonna fuck me good, baby?” You smile, feeling the hardness of his length pressed against your ass. 

“Yes– Yes, ma’am,” Spencer stammers, swallowing his anxieties. “Can- Can I?” 

“Please, baby,” you groan, your hand reaching behind you to grab Spencer’s cock. He whimpers as you tug as it roughly, your movements haphazard due to the angle, but you’re lining him up with your hole. “You know what to do.”

It doesn’t take much effort for Spencer to press his cock into you. There’s uncertainty in his movements, but it feels like heaven as your cunt practically swallows him in. He fills you up so perfectly, his thickness rubbing against your walls in just the right way until he’s buried to the hilt, his bony hips pressed against the fat of your ass. “Oh! That feels good, baby.”

You clench around him, relishing the feeling, and then you hear a pathetic little whine from Spencer. “Hurts,” he says, in a weak, wet voice, and you want to both coo at him and fuck his brains out. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” you soothe. “I’ll make it feel better, yeah?” 

“Please,” Spencer whimpers. “Need you.”

You lift yourself off of Spencer for a moment, pulling yourself off his cock before sinking back down on him. Spencer is big, not even knowing what he’s been gifted with when you had seen him for the first time. He fits so well inside of you, feeling so perfect as you fuck yourself on him. 

You would ask how he’s doing, but whimpers and moans liberally fall from his lips, and he’s holding onto your hips with a death grip, like he’ll lose all sense of himself if he isn’t holding onto you. His nails dig into your flesh, a delicious bite of pain through the pleasure of it all. 

“Pretty boy,” you groan. “You fill me up so good, holy fuck, oh my God–”

Spencer moans so loud your ears ring. “Feels good, so good, please–” 

“Fuck me, baby,” you gasp, your hips slowing on him. He chases after you like he can’t control himself, as he starts to thrust into you. “Yeah, just like that, baby. Fuck.”

Spencer whines again, chasing his own pleasure as he fucks into you. His hips slap against your ass hurriedly, eagerly, like you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. “Fuck, oh, God–”

“You’re so deep inside of me, baby,” you groan, barely able to keep your voice steady. You reach for his hand, guiding it to splay out against your lower stomach, where his cock bulges with every thrust. He practically sobs. “You feel so good, darling.”

“Think– I’m gonna– Hhrghh– I’m not gonna last long,” Spencer finally gets the thought out, his genius clearly and understandably slashed when he’s buried in warm, wet pussy. You feel kind of proud of that. 

“Cum, baby,” you groan, not unaffected by Spencer’s eager, frantic fucking. “Inside of me.”

He lets out a pathetic little sob, one that turns you to no end, and then you feel Spencer coming inside, his load hot and messy as it paints your walls, filling you up. You clench around him at the feeling, so heady and overwhelming, and Spencer’s little whine at the pressure has you orgasming too. It’s a new kind of high, a perfect storm of pleasure filling every bone in your body. 

Spencer is warm and heavy as he half-falls on top of you, a sweetness to his movements as he rests his chin on your shoulder. His cock twitches inside of you but begins to soften. Your arms and legs feel like jelly, but you manage to coax him to lay down. His arms sling around your waist to hold you, and the position is surprisingly intimate. 

“Thank you,” he says breathlessly. You turn around in his grasp, letting Spencer’s cock slip out of you. He whines a little, but smiles when you look up at him. Spencer repeats, sounding more earnest. “Thank you.” 

“Of course, baby,” you say, smiling, and lean forward to kiss him. It’s sweet, no heat behind it as you press your lips to his. Spencer seems to appreciate the affection, his thumb tracing little circles into your hip. “You were really good. Was that good for you too?”

“Couldn’t you tell from how fast and how hard I came?” Spencer laughs, seeming a bit shy. 

You coo, your hand cupping his cheek. “Even if you did, it was extremely endearing.”

“I think you just like corrupting me or something,” Spencer smiles, quirking his eyebrow.

You shrug, a teasing grin on your lips. “Maybe I do.”

[hoshigray]

hear me out🙏 imagine student body president!sukuna and delinquent!reader😍 same scenario but just switched

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i hear you, loud AND clear !!

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: student body president! Sukuna x bratty delinquent fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; you and kuna are college seniors - oral (m! + slight f! receiving) - face + throat fucking - clitoral play (sucking) - impact play (cheek + pussy slaps) - fingering (f! receiving) - standing + piledriver positions - unprotected sex - overstimulation - dumbification - degradation (brat, cumslut, pig, slut, whore) - blackmail - dick piercing (frenulum) - mention of drool/spit and tears.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

If there’s one thing that Sukuna loves more than anything, it’s power.

For Sukuna, the pinnacle of power is not just a status but a destiny he believes is his alone. In his heart of hearts, he knows he is the one who can keep this school in check, his control palpable in every corner of the campus.

Having Ryōmen Sukuna as the student body president of the senior class was either the best or worst thing, depending on who was asked. Although intimidated by some faculty and professors, they saw him as a significant influence on maintaining the students’ behavior for the college’s image. As for his peers, some would vouch that he was the scariest person they've ever met within their college student’s behaviors on campus. As for the students…whether they made sure not to get in the salmon-pink-haired man’s way, did as they were told, or generally avoided getting in his bad side all around, the truth was known in the air: Sukuna is a force not meant to be reckoned with. 

So, dealing with people who stand in his line of power will be dealt with — especially brats like you.

You were the biggest thorn in Sukuna’s side, a true innocent fool who dared disobey him without fear of consequence. For one, you were such a disrespectful minx, always speaking to him with such a foul mouth as if his aura that frightens others doesn’t shake you down. You bat your eyes at him during his lectures, dumb doe eyes that flutter with dull eyelids as if not a single word from his mouth was processed in that mind of yours as you’ll just wound up doing the exact shit again within a week or less. You have no amount of respect for his superior status, treating Sukuna like some big shot. 

“Tah, you don’t scare me, Prez!” You mocked with a laugh. “You and your little tattoos can go somewhere and make the other babies piss their pants and leave me the hell alone. Mind your business and stay outta mine.”

God, to say you were insufferable was scratching the surface. Sukuna can admit that nothing in his last year of college would allow him to experience absolute euphoria than crushing that childish grin off your face. It’s all he can think about whenever he has the misfortune of seeing your name or catching your face in the halls on his way to lectures and meetings.

But then again, if he can’t discipline you in the way he wanted on school grounds, it doesn’t mean you’re safe from him on the outside.

And then, like a miracle to his prayers, he finally had the dirt to give him all the more motivation. His second in command, Uraume, had found some evidence of your inappropriate behavior on the school’s campus. Pictures and videos alike, his smile grew bigger the deeper he looked into it.

Images of you flashing your bare tits in what seems to be a party in one of the dormitories and some drunk guy motorboating your chest, another of you smoking weed in one of the laboratories, which were undoubtedly smoke-free, and one portraying you fingering yourself in while sucking off one of the basketball athletes in the gymnasium men’s locker room. And the cherry on top was explicit videos of yourself that would tarnish the school’s reputation and have you expelled in seconds — absolute music to Sukuna’s ears. 

The thought of destroying your image and exposing you to the filthy bitch you have put a spark of joy in the student body president’s cruel heart. But what would the fun be if he threw this evidence out all at once? He was a man who loved to drag out the torture of his victims. So, when he pulls you aside, to your dismay, and showcases the dirt he has on you, the look on your face? Not even a picture would be enough for him to enjoy such a glorious reaction. He never thought he’d see where you’d beg and plead to him on your knees, only fueling the superiority within his stance.

However, he likes to play with his food. So, he’ll put his hands up, “Alright, fine, I won’t take this to the higher-up…” yet the smirk didn’t match the comfort expressed. “On one condition.”

And for said condition? To use you and see your talents for himself.

“Damn, this mouth really knows how to work, huh?”

Oh, to be fucking your face in the student body government lounge isn’t something he’d expect. But holy shit, is he not fucking complaining. He throws his head back as his pelvis relentlessly smacks the plump of your soapy lips. His hands grabbed your head and forced you onto his length, which you were crying on like crazy.

Tears roll down your face; the harshness of his ruts sting like hell. You could only grip his jeans to steady, yet the more he bullies his dick into your throat, your train of thought becomes more impossible to follow through. 

He slaps your cheeks, “Pay attention, bitch,” he curses from above and yanking you by the ear. “Loosen that jaw of yours and suck me off like the cumslut you are.”

Your glare gratifies him, watching you obey his words and hollow your cheeks. Jesus, the tightness of your throat has shivers crawl to his shoulders.

“Mmmff! Mmmm!!” Your muffled whimpers were all his ears could pick up on, and they made him sigh heavenly. He peers down to meet such a naughty image: your lips coated in saliva and his precum bubbling and piling with every snap and pull of his hips. Your tears and furrowed brows gave him the hugest ego boost of his life, making the devilish superior push feverishly into your mouth. 

“—Mnnph! Yesss, yeah, that’s right; keep cryin’, you fucking brat.”  Fuck, he’s so fucking close; your mouth and tongue were doing mad work for him to release, busting his load into your throat and succumbing to you to drink and accept his semen.

Balls deep to your lips, saliva mixes with salty tears, striking down your chin. You swallow every bit of him with a satisfied hum, eyes rolling up when he grinds his pelvis for his dick to go deeper.

But that doesn’t mean you should rest — hell no. Sukuna rips his erect limb out of your mouth and pushes you to your back with a kick. You couldn’t interject as he pushed your legs to your chest. An exotic position that exposes the damp spot of your thong from your lifted skirt. 

The president tsks at the display with a sneer. “Fucking slut, so wet from just sucking me off.” He slides the underwear and is welcomes to your scent and taste when he glides his tongue to your clit. “You really are a fucking bitch in heat, huh?”

His tongue pets and laps around your labia, lubing your vagina with his spit while slurping your essence that messes around your inner thighs. You’re choked up, whining from his tongue fucking the entrance of you and licking your clit.

“—Ohoo! Hoohh, Sukunaa, pleaseee,” you slurred from the suck of your clit, his tongue pushing it and grazing his teeth with the delicate bud. “Hahhhfuckk, put it innn, ‘Kuna, I want—Daaahaa!!” You cried at the slap of your cunt, stinging your sensitive clit from the rough palm of his hand.

“Don’t tell me what to do, brat,” another smack to your slit as you cough up spit. “Such a broad, only thinking with just your pussy.” Although, he had to admit, seeing your pussy wink from his hits and teases made his pride sing. With a low chuckle, he straightens up, your anticipation climbing up when he brings his middle and forefinger to wet with saliva.

Yet a record scratches at the feel of something wet around your asshole, the digits pushing and teasing your puckered entrance. Begs fly out you’re mouth, but they substitute with a scream when his fingers manage to insert inside and massage around your walls.

“What, you thought I was just gonna play with that pussy like you wanted?” He laughs at your cries, stroking his ego from your anus, clamping onto him with the scrape of his fingernails. “You got some nerve; only dirty pigs like you get dirty rewards.” You gasp at the withdrawal of his fingers, and he whistles at the sight. “So here ya go, little slut…”

Sukuna aligns his cock to your rear, pushing it with no care for your lack of preparation. You scream at the insert of his cockhead and piercing, and the stretch that comes along his inches burrowing inside causes more tears to fall. But not in pain—the expression on your face showed no sign of resentment. 

“Haaahh, yeeesshh,” your hands come to the back of your ass to help the position you’re in, the angle making your writhing figure jolt. And it gets better once Sukuna’s hips go at a mediocre pace. “Shooo goood…!!”

Your hands find Sukuna’s ankles when his frenulum piercing jabs you with precision with the increase of his erratic thrusts. High pitches and shrieks fill the student body lounge, skin slapping against each other, creating an inappropriate sound. Like Sukuna cares, though; fucking your ass on the floor with no grace — so much for a president.

“—Khheh, hooohshiiit, pig can’t even speak properly, making such a ruckus.” It’s true; you showed no restraint in concealing your wails. If anything, they get louder and louder with the clasp of your butthole on his length, drool spilling from your agape mouth. “Noisy ass acting all dumb on my cock.” 

The graze of his piercing gets worse every second; shit feels way too good, like his balls smacking down your ass. But you couldn’t foresee his next move; Sukuna slipped his middle finger inside your chasm and wiggled around your vagina. A strong yelp erupts from your body from the “come hither” motion that scratches your upper walls, and you can’t help but let yourself go.

Your climax has you howling, your holes contracting with force from every passing wave that rocks your core. You pant heavily, milking the dick that continues to plunge into your ass, Sukuna groaning at the grasp of your anus and the walls around his middle finger. 

He then pulls his digit out and brings it to his mouth, sucking your liquids with a smirk. “Not bad, broad.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[aellesira]

彡 gifts from you mean the whole world to me!

pairings, aether, albedo, alhaitham, cyno, diluc, gaming, kazuha, kaveh, kinich sethos, tighnari, venti, xiao, zhongli x reader. (separate)

´ˎ˗ ` 𓆩⟡𓆪 summary, what they get you on your birthday and why + how you react to it! and the silent message each gift passes. [ 1.7k word count. ] content, birthday gifts from our favourites, most are based off their voice lines, sorry for repeats or any ooc, fluff, mostly not established relationship, pining. happy birthday to me!

Yawning, you slumped down onto your bed after the day you had. Looking at the giant pile on the opposite corner of your room, memories of today and this week stirred in your mind, reminding you of everything you’d done today. All the gifts you were given by your lovely friends…

AETHER.

The Traveler, your partner in crime. 

These days you don’t get to see him because of how immensely busy he is off in other nations; he has long since passed from your own region of Teyvat.

But Aether has his own list of his favourite people, and you are one of those lucky few he loves dearly. So of course, his present is here too!

A picture of you two. You looked lovely in it, Aether was the one taking the picture, so it was more like a selfie, with Aether wrapping an arm around your shoulder. Paimon was flying in the background as well — you would be able to notice her if you squinted.

The Traveler and Paimon keep a lot of pictures, ones they take of you as well. This is one present you hold very, very dear.

ALBEDO.

He asked to sketch you, most definitely. 

And quite the lovely sketch he made, as lovely as the person it was of, you remembered a conversation the day before. He had asked if you would like to be his live model, or if he could take a picture of you. 

Nevertheless, the completed sketch was what was in that scroll. Carefully opening the ribbon, you were pleasantly surprised.

Framing it was obvious. Could you let such a thoughtful gift sit in your drawer somewhere in its beauty? I feel like Albedo would also want to see your reaction to his gift to judge if it was too little for something like your birthday, but he could tell you liked it.

ALHAITHAM.

Wouldn’t think too much of your birthday.

He doesn’t think it’s worth all the enthusiasm it gets, and that goes for his own and others’ birthdays.

Maybe he would do a favour for you just because it seemed like the right thing to do, even when he doesn’t bother with gifts on birthdays.

Although if you were his special someone, he might try to get you something you said you wanted a few weeks prior to your birthday, although for friends he draws the line.

CYNO.

I don’t think he’d know what you like specifically or what qualifies as a ‘good’ birthday present. Either he’d forget or he’d give you some new limited-edition expensive TCG card.

You don’t even play that often?

Nevertheless, it’s a sweet gift from Cyno, even if he wasn’t sure what you’d like as a gift.

Was half-considering offering to walk around the desert as like… a date (if he had a minor crush on you)? But he didn’t have time, didn’t know if you had time, and there is nothing romantic about roaming in the sand with beetles being the most interesting thing there — Tighnari told him that — so he relented.

DILUC.

Depends on how close the two of you are, but if you were someone he cares about, he would first get you a card.

Nothing too heartfelt; it was a rather fancy-looking card adorned with a simple happy birthday message from him, but it was really nothing much. Only for formalities, although you wished he would bring down the walls he let up for so long, at least with you, so as to make him less formal with you.

Maybe would buy you some expensive item from the shops, he doesn’t mind much, not with you.

GAMING.

Only a memory, because his gift wasn’t in your room.

 Oh! Your birthday is coming up? Just kidding, he’s been planning his gift for you for a few weeks now. He loves his friends, and that includes you, naturally!

Of course, it’s not Gaming it he doesn’t book you a private Wushou dance performance, just for your birthday. You’re always so busy, so you have to make sure you come to this one; it’s special.

You also knew he would make a reservation at Xinyue Kiosk, and damn, you can’t eat that much. Soups, curries, dim sum, rice, and so many other foods you couldn’t name…

All the same, you were really happy with his gift, touched by his kindness.

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA.

Definitely spent a few nights in his spare time trying to come up with a haiku for you.

As much as he has a habit of bringing on his flowery words of praise for you, your good qualities, and little things about you that only he notes, writing a haiku for you became something that he found rather difficult.

It wasn’t that there wasn’t anything to say about you, but could he write about you in a way that would capture your image anywhere close to perfect?

He thought not. As he put it, no word in our language could come close to describing you, and even though he had so much to say, he had only a little to write.

He gave it to you after your party, which of course, he had time to attend. Promising to read it once you come home, here you are. 

Swooning and struggling to hold your giggles, although nobody would hear you anyway. You told yourself he did this for all his close friends, but perhaps Kazuha tried to hide his true feelings for you in that poem, ones you shared too.

KAVEH.

Let’s be real; he doesn’t have enough money right now to spend on you.

But I feel like he would try to just barely hold on to enough to get you something he remembered you said you liked. 

Kaveh is an emotional person. Not in the sense that his feelings are out of control, or that he is too dramatic, but Kaveh truly cares for people. You of all people, anyone would note. 

Knowing that, the little trinket, bracelet, or small thing that Kaveh was able to give you meant more than any expensive gift anyone else could give you, even if he didn’t know that himself.

Maybe, one day you would have the courage to tell each other how you feel, but until then, he is happy with your shy little smiles and giggles whenever you get to see him.

KINICH.

Also wouldn’t know what to give you.

He frees up his schedule to spend some time with you, and that time is spent exploring Natlan for fun. And it is fun! Whenever you had to cross a pit of lava or a deep valley, he’d hold onto your waist and grapple through the sky.

At first it was pretty scary, but you knew Kinich knew what he was doing. The close proximity to someone you trusted also helped, although it flustered you a little.

Not a physical gift, but his presence was more than you could have asked for.

SETHOS.

He could give you anything, anything you wanted, and yet, it still wouldn’t feel like something attributed to him. Sure, you could spend time with one another, but he’d made that a habit a long time ago, of seeking you out constantly, so he ruled that out.

Totally not based on his voiceline — gives you a desert dweller hairstyle!

And it looks very cute, braids and all, you keep it for the whole day, especially with that pretty flower in your hair you don’t quite remember Sethos putting on…

TIGHNARI.

Speaking of flowers, Tighnari gets you a potted plant. Whichever Sumeru flower you loved, whether that be a Sumeru Rose, Kalpalata Lotus, Padisarah, a Nilotpala Lotus, it was one of them for sure.

It was there right now, right by your windowsill. If you looked hard enough it had already started to bloom under your care.

Tighnari comes around a few times after that, whenever he has time, and it is truly such a sweet thing, to see his gift bloom into such a beautiful flower as the day passes.

You love taking care of it, and make it a habit to water it every morning.

VENTI.

Was going to get you something, maybe, maybe not… you didn’t know. But alas, he eventually forgot it was your birthday and spent his evening at the tavern, like he usually does.

He didn’t quite expect you to go there too… had you been seeking him out? Then he remembered the poem he created a few days back. Stopping his incoherent rambles and songs although people were still tipping him for them, he sang.

It was about you, but did you know? Probably not. Still, it was quite a lovely song, about someone he cherished, a friend he wished to keep forever by his side. A lovely song.

You decided not to bother him while he performed, wondering who was this special person he sings for. You hum this tune in your room right now, wondering.

XIAO.

A memory. Also another that doesn’t care for mortal traditions, such as birthdays — he doesn’t understand it.

But it’s you, so… maybe he could give you something. An amulet. He created an adepti amulet for you, one you wore right now. After all, the one thing he wants for you above all else is your safety.

Even if he feels he can’t show you his care, he’ll do it however he can.

ZHONGLI.

Asks to spend time with you, if you would allow it. He takes you to a market with many fine brocades, gems, and jewelry to buy.

Of course, he knows what you’d like best, and what is best, so…

You end up having a lovely collection of trinkets, bought by him, although you insisted repeatedly not to dote on you so much.

The two of you have dinner, watch some stories and plays, all to end it with a final goodbye after the lovely day you had with Zhongli giving you a Glaze Lily. You as you were now, smiling and blushing at the flower in your hair, greatly remind him of someone dear.

[debonairprincesposts]

Burn out

(Jason Todd x Reader)

Summary: Jason comes home and finds reader passed out in the bathroom

Words: 1.7k

As Jason climbed through the window of his apartment, the familiar scent of leather and faint traces of gun oil greeted him. The day had been long, filled with the usual patrols and skirmishes that left him both physically and mentally drained. Yet, as he closed the window behind him, a sense of relief washed over him. Home was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place where he could let the weight of the world slip away.

But as he walked deeper into the dimly lit space, something felt off. The silence hung heavy in the air, and an unsettling instinct prickled at the back of his mind. He called out for you, his girlfriend, but the only response was the echo of his own voice.

"Babe? You here?"

No answer.

His heart began to race as he moved through the living room, a creeping sense of dread pooling in his stomach. He checked the kitchen; no sign of you. The soft light from the bathroom was slightly ajar, casting a warm glow that felt at odds with the chill creeping up his spine.

"Chipmunk?" he called again, his voice tightening.

Pushing the bathroom door open, he was met with a sight that froze him in place. There, on the cold tile floor, lay you, unconscious. Panic surged through him like a tidal wave, and his heart pounded against his ribcage. He rushed to your side, kneeling beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out to check for any signs of life.

He called out your name in panic, his voice a mix of urgency and fear. He gently shook your shoulder, trying to rouse you, but there was no response. The sight of your pale face, framed by disheveled hair, sent a jolt of anxiety coursing through him. Why were you here? Why weren’t you in bed?

He quickly scanned the bathroom, searching for clues. Had you been sick? Were you hurt? His mind raced with scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. He couldn't lose you—not like this. Not after everything they had fought through together.

With a swift motion, he gathered you in his arms, cradling you against his chest. The warmth of your body contrasted sharply with the coldness of the tiles beneath them. His heart ached as he felt your fragile weight. For a moment, he simply held you, breathing in the familiar scent of your shampoo, trying to anchor himself in the chaos of his thoughts.

"Come on, sweetheart, wake up," he murmured, desperation creeping into his voice. He could feel his panic rising, his mind flashing back to the times he had lost people he loved. "You can't do this to me."

He gently brushed your hair back from your face, his fingers shaking with worry. Jason had always been the tough one, the one who faced danger head-on, but this—this was different. This was vulnerability, and it terrified him. The thought of you being in pain, of you suffering alone while he was out fighting crime, clawed at his insides.

"Please, just open your eyes," he pleaded, his throat tightening. The memories of their laughter, their late-night talks, and the way you made the darkness feel a little less suffocating flooded his mind. He couldn't imagine his life without you.

After what felt like an eternity, you stirred. Your eyelids fluttered, and you groaned softly, the sound like a balm to his frayed nerves. Relief flooded through him, yet he felt anger bubbling beneath the surface. How could you let yourself get to this point? Did you not know how much you meant to him?

"Baby, hey, it's me," he said softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "You're going to be okay. Just stay with me."

As your eyes slowly opened, confusion clouded your gaze. Jason felt his heart leap at the sight of you, but the worry didn't dissipate. He needed to know why this had happened, why you had collapsed like this.

"I... what happened?" You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You scared the hell out of me," he replied, his voice firm yet laced with tenderness. "You passed out. We need to get you checked out."

He helped you sit up, wrapping an arm around your shoulders for support. The concern etched across his face mirrored the tumult of emotions inside him—relief mingled with anger and an overwhelming need to protect.

"Let's get you to bed," he said, his tone softening. He couldn't bear to see you so vulnerable, so fragile. You needed him now more than ever, and he vowed to be there for you, to ensure you never felt alone in your struggles again.

As he guided you to your feet, he held you close, arm around your waist as he helped you to your room.

Once Jason got you to your bedroom, the warm, inviting space felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of the day. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated the room, casting gentle shadows on the walls. He guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, his hands steadying you as you swayed slightly.

"Just take a moment," he said, his voice low and reassuring. He knelt down in front of you, searching your eyes for any sign of lingering confusion or distress. "You scared me back there."

You nodded slowly, your brow furrowing slightly as you took in your surroundings. Jason's heart ached at the sight of you looking so lost. He brushed his fingers over your cheek, the warmth of his hand a comforting contrast to the worry that gnawed at him.

"Let's get you some water," he said, standing up and moving toward the bedside table. He poured a glass from the pitcher he always kept filled, his movements deliberate and careful. He could feel the tension in his body, a lingering anxiety that wouldn't easily dissipate.

Returning to your side, he handed you the glass, watching intently as you took small sips. "Easy, don't rush it," he instructed gently, the protective instinct in him flaring up. He couldn't help but wonder if you had been pushing yourself too hard again.

As you finished, he took the glass from you, placing it back on the table. He sat beside you on the bed, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight. "Do you feel any better?" he asked, his tone softer now, a hint of vulnerability breaking through his usual bravado.

"Yeah, just a bit dizzy," you admitted, your voice still shaky. "I didn't mean to worry you."

His heart softened at your words. "You don't have to apologize. I just... I hate seeing you like this," he confessed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I wish you would let me in more when you're feeling overwhelmed."

You looked down, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "I didn't think it was that bad. I guess I just pushed myself too far."

Jason sighed, feeling the weight of your words. He wanted to fix everything for you, to protect you from the world's harsh realities. "You don't have to do everything alone, you know? I'm here for you, always. Just let me help."

He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you gently against him. The warmth of your body against his felt grounding, and he breathed out slowly, trying to calm the storm of emotions within him. "What can I do to help you right now?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

"Honestly? Just sit with me for a bit," you replied, leaning your head against his shoulder. The simple request tugged at his heartstrings, and he nodded, grateful for the opportunity to be close to you.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds being the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional creak of the building settling. Jason's mind raced with thoughts of how he could support you better in the future, how he could help you navigate the struggles you faced. But for now, he focused on being present, feeling the comforting rhythm of your breathing against him.

After a while, he pulled away slightly to look into your eyes. "Do you want something to eat? Maybe some soup or something light? I can whip up something quick," he offered, eager to take care of you in any way he could.

You smiled faintly, your eyes sparkling with gratitude. "That sounds nice, actually. I'd love some soup."

"Alright, stay put," he said, rising from the bed and heading to the kitchen. As he moved through the familiar space, he felt a surge of purpose. He opened the cupboard, pulling out a can of soup—comfort food that reminded him of simpler times.

While the soup heated on the stove, he couldn't shake the feeling of protectiveness that enveloped him. He considered how he could make you feel more secure in your relationship, how he could encourage you to lean on him rather than carry your burdens alone.

Minutes later, he returned to the bedroom with a steaming bowl of soup, the scent filling the air with warmth. "Here you go," he said, setting the bowl on your lap. "Just take small bites, okay?"

You laughed softly, the sound lifting his spirits. "Yes, sir," you replied, picking up the spoon and taking a cautious sip. He watched you closely, a smile breaking through his earlier worry as you visibly relaxed.

"See? Not so bad," he said, leaning back against the headboard, enjoying the sight of you slowly regaining your strength.

After a few more bites, you looked at him, your expression serious. "Jason, thank you for being here. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He felt a warmth bloom in his chest at your words. "I'll always be here. Just promise me you'll talk to me when things get tough, okay? I can't help if I don't know what's going on."

You nodded, your eyes reflecting sincerity. "I promise. I'll try."

As the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, Jason couldn't shake the feeling that this moment, this simple act of caring, was what made everything worthwhile. He was determined to protect you—not just from the dangers outside but from the struggles within. He breathed a sigh of relief. At least you’re okay.

Hope y’all liked it ∠(ᐛ 」∠)

[kurooangel]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ JUST WANNA BE THE GIRL YOU LIKE .ᐟ

★ featuring: kuroo tetsuro.

★ synopsis: tetsuro and his love for teasing his pretty girl before fucking her dumb <3

★ content warning: smut. timeskip haikyuu. f!reader. older!kuroo. reader on her early twenties and kuroo's on his thirties. dry humping. fingering. oral (f!receiving). raw sex. english isn't my first language, please be nice. masterlist. wc: 1.7k

that morning was hotter than usual. it was summer, of course, but in the heat of july all you want is lay on your bed with the air conditioner while you're eating ice cream and watching a movie. you were doing exactly that, having the time of your life, until your boyfriend arrived. you knew he was playing volleyball at the beach with atsumu, bokuto and a few more friends, but you haven't expected him to come back like that. he is shirtless, with his tank top on his shoulder, and his pants are hanging low on his hips. his usually tan skin a bit tanner than it usually is and his upper body is with a thin layer of sweat that makes him glow. you would eat him if he was edible. "hey, sweetheart" he leans in to give you a quick kiss and steal you some ice cream. "I guess you're doing great without me, babygirl" he chuckles, and you laugh as well. "feels good not having a sweaty man clinging to me" you tease, his eyebrow arching. "that's why you were starring at me when I came in?" he retorts back, and you can't help but chuckle. he approaches and hugs your waist, pulling until you're sitting down on the bed instead of laying. his fingers running over your body, tracing patterns, as he leans to kiss you. it starts soft, but you quickly deepen it. you can't help it, not when he looks so good — less when he chuckles, a dark and mocking sound, in the kiss. he leans forward and his body hovers over yours, hands resting on each side next to your head to not crush you with his huge body. "on four" he growls, breaking the kiss for a moment. his amber eyes have its pupils dilated and he is looking at you with want. you snort mockingly yet you oblige, your shirt slides down your arched back, revealing that you're wearing panties. without. pants. oh the groan he lets out after seeing that.

and after that, there it is — kuroo and his stupid, teasing smirk. he knows what he's doing, grinding his bulge against your wet underwear while you're on four, whining and begging for his dick. your moans start filling the bedroom and his growls accompanying them with his damn words on your ear. "you're so desperate, baby, so damn needy. waiting for me on this precious panties" he gently bites your earlobe and a guttural moan escapes his throat when you push your core against his covered hardness, his hazel eyes darkening as your back arches more, seeking for kuroo to finally fill you. his cock twitches in his boxers, and he has to close his eyes to not cum in his underwear like a fifteen-year-old.

a harsh smack lands on your ass, his callous fingers grabbing the flesh after you gasp and look at him over your shoulder. "tetsu!" you moan, and his amber eyes lock with yours. "move like that again, babe" he growls, big hand moving up to grip your neck as he flexes his body, hovering over yours. "holly shit! tha-thats's it, gorgeous" his forehead rests against your nape and he starts thrusting his hips against yours, his covered bulge making you squirm every time it presses against your wet slit. "arch a bit more, pretty girl, lemme play a bit with your clit, 'kay?" kuroo bites his lower lip when you oblige, your face against the mattress and you lift your hips, your back arching and being worshipped by your boyfriend's hands while he lifts his forehead and his upper body is straight again, gripping your waist as he presses your behind against his dick, moving you until he finds your swollen clit. a broken moan leaves your throat when he jerks his hips against that point again and again, head falling back and his eyes shutted meanwhile he gets drunk on the perfect sounds you make for him.

your whine make him snap from his trance. "tetsu, I- I need your dick, please" he chuckles darkly and puts your cute panties to the side, grabbing your thighs and make you spread your legs for him, your wet pussy on full display for him and him only. "what if we start with fingers, huh? will my girl be patient?" kuroo teases, as if he wasn't craving to be hugged by your tight walls — as if his dick wasn't leaking with precum. his fingers run over your slit and pushes two of them inside your hole, stretching out your walls as they clench around them. your back arches even more, chasing your climax as he thrust his two digits inside your eager cunt, his pace so rough and harsh that you can barely handle it. you don't wanna cum so soon, but he makes it so damn complicated.

you know he will mock about how you easily you melt under his touch, even if it drives him absolutely wild. "do you like it, honey? come on, talk to me" his fingers curl inside your gummy walls and your eyes roll back to your skull, manicured nails — payed by him — digging in the sheets of your king sized bed while he keeps thrusting his fingers inside you. "y-yeah, tetsu! just- keep going" you whine. despite the burn on your lower stomach, a part of you doesn't want to cum. doesn't want this to finish, even if you know this is just the start. he starts scissoring before adding a third one, and his other hand squeezes your thigh before caressing your clit. a shiver runs down your body and your legs falter. that's when you feel the climax washing over you, and a dark chuckle can be heard from behind you. "that's it, babe. give it to me" he starts drawing circles on your bud and you whine. "tetsuro, p-please! I need... I need to be filled, please" you beg, but a loud moan leaves your throat when he runs his tongue over your slit, ignoring your plea. he grips your hips and flips you so you're laying on your back. "spread 'em a bit more, baby" he mutters as he dives between your legs, no mercy with your pussy.

his hands move to your thighs and grabs them tightly after you oblige his order. you bite your lower lip and your hand tangles with his dark hair, moaning when he sucks on your clit. he is so messy — and it's hot as hell. the sounds of his sloppy kisses on your pussy as his saliva mixes with your juices are music to your ears. he is practically making out with your dripping cunt, his eyes closed as he hums against your core, his tongue eating you and thrusting inside you, your mind starting to feel fuzzy. he growls and bites lightly your clit, your legs trembling and your back arching off the mattress, causing his callous hands to caress so softly your thighs — a high contrast of how rough he is eating you out.

his tongue leaves your pussy, an empty feeling tries to settle in your chest, but he quickly pushes it away by tracing sloppy kisses upwards. he stops on your stomach, muttering against your skin "you know... you'd look so good pregnant". he looks up at you after whispering that and his amber eyes lock with yours, full of lust yet with a hint of vulnerability. he grins and keeps worshipping you, his kisses reaching your chest, making him growl when he catches one with his mouth and starts sucking on it. one of his hands leaves your body to pull down his boxers, a moan leaves his mouth against your hard nipple when his fat and veiny cock is finally out. he pulls away from your breast, a tiny string of his saliva still connecting both of you, before he aligns himself and start diving into you. "shit, t-tetsuro!" you shiver, a heated sigh accompanying your words as he hums and put one hand next to your head to support himself. "feels good, babe? cuz for me d-definet— gosh how I missed this pussy" he groans and kisses you deeply, his hips starting to rock against your with a moderated pace yet firmly, his full length stretching you. he catches the pace and your nails dig into his broad back, his muscles tensing under your fingers while he gasps at the mixture of pain and pleasure. kuroo growls when you drag your nails over his back, leaving red marks, and he accelerates the pace. his balls are slamming hard against you as his fat cock reaches that sweet spot that just he knows where it is — and hits it merciless again and again. his roughness and his growled praises make you so damn close, and you know there's not much you can do when he angles you so his pelvis smacks against your clit every single time he thrust into you. and he knows it — the way your moans are louder and you have to bite his neck, leaving sloppy and messy kisses there. he can read you as if you were a book he wrote you himself. he has memorized all of your reactions, every single one. that's why when you arch your back off the mattress, your breasts against his face, and whine "tetsu, I'm coming!" it's not a surprise to him. it's not either for you when he paints your wall with his white seed after you clench him because of your ecstasy.

your body is still shaking when he pulls out, a sigh leaving his mouth when he sees his cum leaking from your hole. "you're so cute, baby. you did so well" kuroo mutters while he kisses your forehead. you cling to him, hands resting on his chest as he responds, pulling you into a tight embrace. "lemme clean you, okay?" he whispers against your hair before he disappears beneath the sheets, spreading your legs again and making you shiver when you feel his tongue run over your slit — again.

[mariasont]

Murphy's Law - A.H

summary: you have spent your whole life thinking love was something that could be lost. Aaron has spent his whole life proving that the things worth fighting for don't go anywhere.

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

warnings: some angsty angst, self sabatoge, emotional vulnerability, miscommunication, self worth issues, hotch knows you better than you know yourself, hurt/comfort, happy ending ish

wc: 1.7k

You were staring at the liquid swirl in your glass, watching the way the light bent through it, like if you stared long enough, you could disappear into it, dissolve into it completely. It was sweating against your palm, ice melting, thinning, becoming something less than it was before. 

You were exhausted, an exhaustion that clung your very bones and soul and flesh, moving into places you were certain sleep couldn't reach nor fix.

The case had been brutal and unfortunately for everyone involved, it was the type of case that didn't end just because the paperwork was filed. And you'd done what you always did when it got to be too much, you'd picked a fight with the only person who never fought back.

It was practically muscle memory by now, the way you pushed, the way you tested him, the way you all but begged for him to get tired of you. You took a sip and let yourself wonder if this was the time he finally did.

The whiskey tasted awful. You scrunched your nose at the aftertaste, the way it coated your tongue with something sharp and unforgiving. But you swallowed it anyway. It was his drink, and maybe you deserved the bitterness. Maybe you deserved the way it burned on the way down, the way it sunk heavy in your stomach.

If he was tired of you, if this was the night you finally ruined it, then at least you could feel what he felt, at least you could know what it was like to choke down something that wasn't meant for you.

You could never figure out why he was with you, could never make sense of it, could never understand what he saw when he looked at you. Because all you could see were the cracks, the flaws, the thousands of ways you weren't enough. And Aaron, well, he was steady. He was level-headed, patient, impossibly good, and you were a mess of emotions. You were impulse and self-destruction, always bracing for impact.

You were temporary. And Aaron was the kind of man who deserved something permanent.

You felt him before you saw him. Of course he was here. Of course he came looking for you. You swallowed another sip of the whiskey and let the burn dissipate through your chest before he even had the chance to speak.

"You didn't want to go home."

It wasn't angry or accusatory. That made it worse. You didn't turn to face him, instead you rolled the glass between shaky fingers and let out a bitter laugh.

"What, am I in trouble?"

The second the words left your mouth, you hated them. Hated yourself. You weren't trying to pick another fight, weren't trying to make things worse. But it was like your body was moving before you mind could stop it, like some sick part of yourself wanted to see how much more you could destroy before the night was over.

Hotch sighed, pulled out the stool beside you and sat without a word. He didn't push, didn't ask, didn't even look at you right away. Instead, he reached across the bar, tapping his fingers twice against the counter.

"Water."

The bartender nodded, setting down a glass in front of him. He slid it toward you without a second thought, like this was something they'd done a thousand times before.

Which you had.

But before, you had been soft for each other. Before, the drinks had been sweet, your laughter even sweeter, your hands weaving in his tie as you pulled him down for a slow, unhurried kiss. Before, he'd touched your waist, guiding you toward him before giving you a water and whispering something against your temple like, you're trouble. And you'd grin, because you knew he didn't mean it, not really, not when he was the one who always indulged you, who always let you be trouble, who always looked at you like you were something precious.

Now, the gesture was the same, but everything around it had changed. Now, it wasn't about taking care of you at the end of a good night. It was the same notion, stripped of everything that used to make it feel like love.

"Thanks," you murmured.

You took the glass, but you didn't lift it, didn't take a sip, just dragged a fingertip through the moisture, watching as it smeared beneath your touch.

And then you made the mistake of looking at him.

He looked wrecked. And not just tired, but more than that. Worn down in a way that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with you. You were the same in that way. His jaw was tight, and his eyes lingered on you like he was searching for something, something he wasn't sure he'd find. He looked worried, and worse, so much worse, he looked hurt.

And that made everything burn. It made your vision blur at the edges.

You looked back down at your drink before you could embarrass yourself further, before the sting behind your eyes could turn into something real.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw. "You look like you're waiting for me to give up."

"Do I?"

It was weak and too quick. Flimsy and transparent. A question with a question. A classic misdirection, the kind of thing you had both watched suspects do a thousand times when they were caught, when the truth was too ugly to face head-on.

"When people are afraid of loss, they do one of two things," Aaron said and you could feel his eyes on you. "They cling to what they have, or they push it away before it can leave on its own." You looked at him. "You've already decided this won't last, so you're doing everything in your power to make that true. But the problem is—," he leaned in slightly and you could see the freckle under his eye clearly now, "you're treating your fear like a fact."

Your gaze flickered over his face, mapping out every detail like a blueprint. The tiny scar on his chin that you'd never asked him about, the exact shade of his eyes, the way his nose tilted just slightly at the bridge.

You wanted to memorize it all, because someday, this would be all you have left.

When he was gone, because he would leave, it was only a matter of when, you didn't want to rely on pictures. You wanted to close your eyes and see him, clear as he was now. Every part of him. Even the parts he didn't realize you noticed.

His voice was softer now, almost pleading. "Talk to me, sweetheart."

"Stop being so nice to me!"

The words came out choked, tears stinging at your eyes before you could blink them away. You dug your nails into your palm, trying to get something under your control, but it was slipping through your fingers like everything else.

"You're going to get tired of me. You're going to wake up one day and realize I'm not worth it and — and you should. You should yell at me, you should tell me I'm too much, you should —," The tears spilled over now and you hated how blurry he looked. "Fight back, Aaron. Please just — just stop pretending like I deserve this, like I deserve you."

Hotch inhaled sharply, then stood, reaching for his wallet. He placed the bill on the counter — too much, but he wasn't about to wait for change — before finally turning back to you.

"Let's get some air."

You hiccupped, the sound breaking awkwardly in your throat, and you blinked hard. Everything felt like too much, your muscles too tight, your face too hot, the tears still falling despite your best efforts. You rubbed at your face with back of your hand, nodding, because you didn't trust yourself to speak.

You stood and glanced around for your coat and before you could even realize you didn't bring one, Aaron was already moving.

"Arms in," he said, slipping his jacket around you, his fingers barely skimming your shoulders.

He didn't give you a moment to process it. He just started guiding you to the door, like he already knew you wouldn't stop him.

The night air didn't bite the way you expected. It should have shocked you awake, made you shiver, but it didn't. You barely felt it.

Your body felt off, warmth thrummed through your limbs in way that you feel unsteady. You swayed slightly, and Aaron's hand came to hover near your waist, not quite touching, but waiting. Just in case.

He was frowning at you.

So, instinctively, you frowned back.

"You're acting like I don't know what I signed up for." You opened your mouth to argue but Aaron stepped closer before you could even form the words. "I know what I signed up for because I know you."

His eyes didn't leave yours.

"I know you overthink every single text before you send it. I know that when you're anxious you chew on the inside of your cheek until it's raw. I know you order the same three things at a restaurant because too many choices stress you out, and I know you hate when the cabinets in the kitchen are left open, even by an inch."

He took another step.

"I know you cry at commercials but try to hide it. I know that when you're upset, you don't want comfort, but you need it. I know that you think needing people makes you weak. But I also know you are smart and kind and stubborn as hell. I know that I love you in a way that is reckless and absolute. And I know—," he exhaled, standing so close his breath was mingling with yours. "that you are worth every single argument it's going to take to convince you of that."

It was too much. The way he knew you. The way he saw you. The way he spoke like loving you was a fact, an inevitability, something that could not be argued or undone.

A sharp breath shuttered from your lips, your whole body tightening like you could hold it all in.

But you couldn't. Because your chest ached. Your hands ached. Your heart ached. Your whole body felt like it belonged to him in a way you didn't know how to put into words.

So you did the only thing you could do. You closed the miniscule distance between you, your fingers grasping onto the front of his coat, pulling, holding, needing.

Because you didn't know how to say I love you so much it physically hurts me.

But maybe, if you pressed close enough, he would feel it.

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