#I’m already being let down by my body every single day
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im glad i made you laugh hehe not to be that person but shower sex with boynextdoor gets me feeling all hdksjd on the inside every single time would love to hear your thoughts about it! i hope im not being too much though i know i keep sending in asks hhh
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hi sweetie! noooo don’t worry about that, it makes me happy to see you in my notifs 🥹 your thoughts are SO good, i love answering and talking about them <33 i had to rewrite what i had written cause tumblr’s being a bitch to me… and honestly speaking, the second scenario made me go CRAZY… might just end up writing a one shot of it but i’m not sure who… anyways, let me know what you think snowie (i hope it’s ok to call you so!) <3
shower sex is so 😵💫 to think about honestly. i can think of two scenarios which go with either member so feel free to think of whoever you want to (and let me know too <3)!
first one is so rough and needy. you’d both be making out on the way into the shower that it’d have the two of you just doing anything to feel closer to the other. his dick would be pressed against your tummy while your back is against the cold wall, the difference in temperatures making you shudder under him. eventually it would lead to backshots against the glass door, his one hand wrapped around your waist to hold you in place while the other is intertwined with your hand you have up for support. and the sounds? oh so sinful. moans and groans would bounce off the tiled room while the sound of your skins slapping would only make him hazier, sloppier, more ready to shoot a load into you even…
the second is more soft and intimate, the two of you comfortably sitting in bathtub (but if it’s not something you wanted then let me know mm?). your back against his chest would start off a conversation of how your days have been, anything you’re looking forward to, what’s on your mind… questions like that! then maybe he offers to help you scrub and you agree, loving the way his hands massage your body alongside scrubbing. then when he wraps around to do so to your front, a moan at the contact against your nipples will have him wanting more. he’d have his hands all over your boobs while whispering phrases against your already sensitive ears. “such a good girl, you like that hm?” while rubbing and pinching your nipples. after a while, he’d reach down to your clit, surprised at yet expectant of the slick coating you despite being in the water. he’d purposefully groan against your ears about how you’re so hot and needy for him: “you’re so fucking gorgeous for me.”, “so wet for my fingers, i’ll give it all to you baby.”, “come on, i know you can give me more darling.”.
#ilysungho#ilysh hard hours#ilysh asks#ilysh anons#ilysh anon: ❄️#boynextdoor hard hours#boynextdoor#boynextdoor smut#bnd x reader#boynextdoor hard thoughts#bnd#bnd smut#bnd imagines#bnd hard thoughts#bnd hard hours#boynextdoor x reader#boynextdoor imagines#boynextdoor headcanons#sungho hard hours#sungho x reader#riwoo hard hours#riwoo x reader#jaehyun hard hours#jaehyun x reader#myungjae hard hours#myungjae x reader#taesan hard hours#taesan x reader#leehan hard hours#leehan x reader
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Wow, the US medical system really doesn’t want me conscious or functional.
Brought to you by my sleep doctor’s still not having sent in the prescription for my narcolepsy meds even though my appointment was 12 days ago, and I’ve now been unmedicated for over a month, and am back to spending most of my time asleep, or if I’m very lucky, and suffer for it the next day, I can write meta or outline fics that I someday hope to write, but not actually write the fics themselves because I am too exhausted.
Brought to you also by my health insurance and the coupon program that makes my migraine meds affordable, since they are trying to force me to stop using the only medication that works on me.
Being disabled is exhausting and infuriating and a thankless, mandatory full-time job, and I hate it.
*screams loudly into the void *
#about me#disability#medical stuff#narcolepsy#I am so mad#8 years ago I was giving a fucking keynote talk at an academic conference#and now it’s a good day if I can go to PT and empty the dishwasher#yes this is still better than things were nine months ago#thanks to my neurosurgery I can empty the dishwasher now#and outline fic which is more than I could do for much of the previous 3 years#but for the fucking love of God this is ridiculous#I’m already being let down by my body every single day#it would be really great if the entire medical system didn’t perpetually fail me too#I want to drop kick the universe into the sun
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i feel like rafe has a major housewife kink
warnings: mentions of traditional stuff (just for the sake of the kink, please don’t stone me ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -。꒱ྀི১), rafe is kinda misogynistic, fingering, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, rough sex, headlock, reader is too fucked out to think about anything else, degradation, slapping, dirty talk, hair pulling, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, baby tapping threats
“i can’t— oh my, god. rafe!” your eyes fluttered shut for what felt like the hundredth time already, your thighs trembling as both pleasure and pain wracked through your body. rafe had no regard, nor did he care about this being your fourth orgasm as he rubbed your clit into overstimulation like his life depended on it. “yes, you fucking can,” he grunted, forcing your thighs open as they threatened to shut around his hand, “m’gonna keep you cumming until i see tears running down those cheeks.” you cried out at his words, your back arching into his chest at the overwhelming sensation.
rafe hadn’t even fucked you yet, and you were already on the verge of tapping out. flipping you over, rafe snaked an arm underneath your tummy before pulling you up, wasting no time in pressing your face into his pillows. stroking the small of your back, rafe groaned at the sight. he could see the body glitter on your skin, the little specs glinting underneath the dim lighting of his room. “fuck, i wish you would just let me have you already.. i’d make sure to slut you out every single day.” you whimpered when he delivered a harsh smack to the globe of your ass. “you just don’t know,” his aching tip prodded at your entrance, “i’d make sure you’d never have to lift a finger ever again.”
wrapping your hair around his fist, rafe slid into you without warning, drawing a shriek to leave your lips. “you shouldn’t be working in that fucking club,” he said through gritted teeth, “you should be here with me, letting me take care of you. i’ll come home and you’ll be waiting for me with a hot plate,” leaning down, rafe yanked your head back so his mouth was next to your ear, “you’ll keep this place spotless and i’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want,” just then, he wrapped a bicep around your neck, your chin tucked between the crease of his elbow and his forearm, “fuck you however you want.”
rafe’s words were punctuated by his thrusts, your acrylics scratching at his skin as you held onto him for dear life. “just picture that; me using you for all that you’re good for.” maybe it was because everyone who knew you, especially your girlfriends at the club, knew you wouldn’t be settling down anytime soon, or at all for that matter, but the idea of locking you away in tanneyhill and never going anywhere without you hanging off of his arm, making you fully reliant on him, financially and emotionally, it turned him on beyond words could describe. “you don’t even know what i’m saying,” he laughed, “you’re too cock drunk to understand.”
you whimpered pathetically, tears running down your face as he planted a slap to your cheek. “gonna fill up this cunt and trap you, maybe then you’ll understand what i’m saying when i put my baby inside of you.”
#❤︎₊ ⊹ works#₊˚⊹♡ rafe#₊˚⊹♡ bitchy!pogue!reader#outer banks#outer banks smut#outer banks fanfiction#outer banks imagine#outer banks rafe#obx#rafe obx#obx smut#obx imagine#obx fanfiction#obx x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#drew starkey
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“you can use my skin to bury secrets in” | 6.8k
old man!logan x f!reader
SUMMARY: Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his brain. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?” OR Logan had always known your generosity would get him in trouble. WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni smut 18+ cursing. drinking. pining. mentions of alcohol. dirty talk. age gap (reader's in her late 20s). logan’s POV. angst/self-deprecation (he just needs a little loving). religious imagery. feelings. petnames. chauffeur!logan. oral sex (m receiving, tiny bit of f receiving). sort of dom!logan. doggy style. unprotected p in v. creampie. A/N: i could say i'm sorry for this, but i'm not. love love love this old man (#needthat). heavily inspired by the song "i know" by fiona apple. @lubdubology my partner in crime who keeps putting up with me, tysm!!! hope you all enjoy it <3
The line between being a good and bad person is thin. So thin, in fact, that Logan finds himself stepping back and forth across it constantly.
Rescuing a kitten from a tree? Good.
Punching a guy at a bar because he didn’t feel like being acknowledged? Bad.
Saving countless lives from mass destruction? Good—heroic, even.
But killing others to do it? Bad—condemnable, scum of the earth.
Where does that leave him? Which side has laid claim to his soul? He’s long accepted he’ll never see the pearly gates.
When the day comes that his body can no longer take it, and he only grows wearier, he’s pretty sure there’s a special place in hell with his name on it, etched in some grave awaiting to be filled.
Maybe Satan’s already counting down the days until he shows up at his door, who knows?
Yet, the more time passes by, the less afraid he is of what lies beneath the surface. He’s learned to coexist with the darkness, with the kind of pain and loneliness that would crush most men.
He doesn’t know how, but he survives it—the agony, the memories, the solitude that hits him from time to time.
And still, he doesn't lose himself entirely. He’s tempted, of course, to linger in the past—it’s always easier to drown there.
If he could go back, he knows he wouldn’t be alone in choosing that path. Some days, it feels like the only option.
But there’s no you in his past.
Logan inhales sharply when your tongue teases his slit, lapping at the precum pooling there. You hum at the taste, your hand resting on his bare thigh, fingers pressing into his skin. Your other hand lazily strokes the length of him, working the inches your mouth can’t take.
It’s clear you’re enjoying this. He can tell from the way your lashes flutter each time he thrusts a little deeper into your slick warmth. A win-win situation.
Letting a girl like you do this to him? That’s bad. Very bad. Red flags all around.
He meets you when he least expects it.
It’s a night like any other. He’s been driving for God knows how long. His joints ache from being in the same position for hours, and a part of his left knee he didn’t even know could hurt begins to throb.
It takes everything in him not to call it quits for the night, not to turn around and head home like a coward.
When exactly his life fell into this monotonous cycle, he’s not entirely sure, but it happened somewhere along the way. Now, it’s all the same: taking care of Charles during the day, catching an hour or two of sleep, then gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled intensity, driving through endless stretches of road, resisting any attempts at small talk from the passengers he chauffeurs around.
They all try—every single one of them. They think if they can crack his harsh and bitter exterior, he’ll open up, reveal something, anything to make their eyes go wide.
But why? Why do they insist on breaking through his shell? What do they hope to discover?
No one really cares what’s going on in his mind. They just want to feel good about themselves—like they’ve been kind, amiable, empaths intending to fill some empty and obscure corner of their own lives.
Logan refuses to be the person who grants them that satisfaction.
You slip into the backseat of his limo, closing the door with a soft click. The night clings to you, the scent of the bar still lingering on your clothes. The music is loud enough for him to hear from outside, and he sees the people lined up at the door, willing to cause a fight if it means securing a good time.
There's a slight frown tugging at your features, your lips pulled downward, though your voice is still polite when you blurt out your address.
Five minutes into the drive and you haven’t said a word. Internally, he’s savoring the silence, so happy he could jump on one foot.
This kind of peace is rare. He’d grown unaccustomed to it. The tension in his shoulders eases as the city lights blur past.
But, all good things come to an end, because—
“How’s your night going?” you ask, fiddling with the seatbelt to have something between your fingers. Logan glances at you through the mirror, his eyes catching yours just for a moment, long enough to see the faint, apologetic smile you offer him. He allows himself a heartbeat more to take you in before focusing back on the road.
You click your tongue, a soft sound of disapproval ringing in his ears. “Well, thank you.”
He lets out a quiet huff, grinding his teeth together. “I’d prefer if we stayed like we were before,” he mutters, his voice rough and gravelly. His attention flickers between the passing cars and the occasional glimpses of you that startle him every time he searches for the mirror. Cars. You. Cars. You. You. You. “Y’know, not talking.”
“But that’s no fun at all,” you retort, sliding more to your left, nearly positioning yourself in the middle of the backseat. It gives him a better view of you—whether intentional or not, he can’t say.
The lipstick on your lips is still flawless. A sparkly necklace glints just above the neckline of your dress, and matching earrings dangle from your ears. Wrapped in a leather jacket, you look effortlessly alluring.
This entire sequence is enough to confirm that by no means is he going to heaven. Straight to hell, he thinks, allowing his gaze to trace over each detail of your frame. Straight to hell.
You don’t give up. “Your aura is off.”
That prompts a crooked smirk from him, a shake of his head as he mumbles under his breath: “M’sorry, my what’s off?”
“Your aura,” you clarify, motioning toward him with a light jingle from the many bracelets adorning your wrist. “It’s the energy that surrounds you.”
Logan snorts, amused for a brief second. “Well, you weren’t exactly a beacon of life when you got in either.”
You chuckle softly, leaning back against the seat and looking out the window. “I’m much better now.” A pause before you continue, your tone shifting, losing strength. “My date stood me up. Last-minute cancellation.”
It’s not anger, nor is it disappointment, that laces your words. You seem more resigned than anything else. He’d have expected you to sound at least a bit more conflicted.
“I should’ve seen it coming. He’d been asking to move it forward for a while.”
Does he look like the type of driver who doubles as a therapist? He wishes he could understand why you're telling him all this.
“That sucks,” he still responds, because even though he hasn’t gone out with a woman in what feels like centuries, he understands that sensation all too well. “First time meeting him?”
Listen up, everyone—he’s genuinely engaging in conversation with another soul. This doesn’t happen often.
He hears you hum, eyes still trained on the outside world. You sigh, crossing your arms over your torso. “Would you mind rolling your window up? I’m kind of freezing here.”
“I’d mind that very much,” he says, his voice carrying its usual gruff edge. He fights the urge to grin, but then you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning in closer to him. Your body is wedged between his seat and the passenger’s, and he perceives your stare boring into his side profile. “Put your seatbelt back on.”
“You’re fucking with me.” Your finger taps his shoulder once, twice. “First, I get all dolled up for an idiot who bails on me, and now you have the nerve to make fun of me? Give me a break.”
Your eyes stay on him, a smile plastered on your face, anticipating any possible answer.
Crack, crack, crack—you intend to break through his shell, watching him from the front row, waiting for the moment it gives way.
Before you can say more, he cuts you off. “Seatbelt.”
It’s a command, an instruction, and you comply without hesitation.
Warmth pools and stirs low in his gut as he notes how quickly you obey him.
Would you still look at him like that if you knew the blood he’s scrubbed off his hands? The flesh that his claws have shredded? The names of the lives he’s taken?
Would your warm gaze turn cold, filled with dread instead of curiosity?
Maybe this is hell. Are you the Devil in disguise, tempting him to cross a line he won’t be able to come back from?
A few minutes later, he pulls up to your building. A really nice one, he notes. You announce you live on the sixth floor. He doesn’t need to know that, does he? Why would you tell him that? Why give that piece of information to a complete stranger?
You linger in the backseat, as though you’re expecting him to turn and look at you. And he does, though not for the reason you might expect. “You got everything?”
Eager and full of life, you nod, clutching your purse to your chest. You avert your gaze to read his ID tag, the one that contains his personal details. “James?”
“Glad you can read,” he utters, pulling out a small bottle of liquor from under the seat. He drains it all in one go, savoring the fleeting burn as it slides down his throat, which is enough to keep him going. “C’mon, kid. I already charged you.”
“You drink while you drive?”
“Keeps me entertained,” he says dryly. It’s the only thing he knows how to do. Raising the empty bottle in your direction, he arches a brow. “Goodnight, darlin’. Leave me a good review on your way out.”
You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.”
For a couple of days, you don’t bother him again. Bother—notice the implication of the verb in question.
He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think of you after that drive. Each time his phone buzzes, a small, restless part of him hopes it’s you, asking for his services, wanting him to be the one you seek out.
And it happens. The best things seem to occur when the moon hangs high and bright.
You: Hi.
He stares at the message, recognition washing over him. He knows it’s you; he can see the other texts you exchanged that night he took you home.
You: Are you working tonight?
You’ve got to be kidding him.
Logan: Why are you texting me?
He types the words with frustration, his thumb hovering over the screen longer than usual.
You: Why are you answering me?
Oh, you’re smart.
Logan: Take my advice. Talk to a guy your own age.
You: Damn. Already jumping to conclusions. I was just going to ask you if you wanted to have a drink with me.
Logan: I’m busy.
You: Well, what time do you get off?
Logan: I work all night.
You: Can’t even make a quick stop? I swear it won’t take you more than twenty minutes.
An impulse to throw his phone out the window surges within him, but he manages to restrain himself.
Then, as if on cue, the device vibrates again—of course, it’s you.
You: The drinks are on me. Let me know if you change your mind.
Do you think he’s going to let you pay for him? Absolutely not.
What surprises him more than the message is how easily he remembers your address. It appears to be ingrained in his mind.
He cancels his next trip, scheduled for ten minutes from now, his new destination being your building.
Once he pulls up, he does what feels most natural: he honks. Multiple times. Maybe he’s lucky and you’ll tell him to fuck off.
But you don’t. You’re laughing as you make your way over to the limo, sliding into the backseat in the same way you did a week ago. Your plan had succeeded—you had him exactly where you wanted.
Far from hiding it, you make it evident, obvious. Your heartbeat thrums in the air, and Logan can hear it loud and clear, like the bass in one of those funky songs he likes.
There’s no room for mistakes. He won’t deny it. Even if the feeling is mutual, he can’t shake the idea that he’s doing something wrong.
In his eyes, you’re the forbidden fruit—irresistible, the ultimate temptation known to humankind, camouflaged in the fur of a pretty woman.
You, his paradise on earth, could only lead to one thing: a longing for a chance with you, which he should never be granted in the first place.
He’s diving headfirst into disgrace, and the more he realizes it, the worse it feels. If he were to be scolded like a child, maybe he’d feel relieved, but he’s no kid. He’s a grown-ass man who should be able to resist.
Yet, self-restraint is like sand slipping through his fingers—never lasting long enough.
“You came.” Astonishment. Uncertainty. Amusement. Blinking your eyes at him, you sit very upright, and you don't even bother fastening your seatbelt. “Honestly? I thought you were going to block me.”
I can’t, he thinks. I wouldn’t be able to. I’m not that strong.
“What happened this time? Another failed date?” he inquires, still not starting the car. A look of perplexity appears on your features, puzzled about why he’s not moving. “Ain’t you forgetting something?” He tugs on his own seatbelt for emphasis, the fabric snapping back into place against his coat.
Once again, you follow his lead. “I don’t need to get stood up to want to see you,” you say, placing your hand on his shoulder for balance—or so he tells himself. It takes him all his willpower not to collapse right then and there. “Besides, I’m not bad company. I’ve been told I can be pretty funny.”
“I see…” he trails off, catching your gaze through the rearview mirror, not shocked in the slightest to find you waiting for him to look back. “Where to?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you should. You invited me.”
How easy it is to make your chest rumble with laughter, the genuine sound bubbling up, pure and unrestrained. He feels like some amateur comedian who has just realized his real passion is to cause this type of response in others.
Except, it’s not just anyone’s laughter he insists on provoking—it’s yours, and yours alone.
An unsettling sensation envelops him the second you retrieve your hand, not before squeezing his shoulder in a friendly manner. “There’s a bar I go to with my friends sometimes,” you suggest after a beat, shoving your phone in the pocket of your jacket. “We could try that one.”
The moment he steps inside, regret washes over him. Why is everyone here under forty? He feels ancient, like fucking Fred Flintstone.
A fossil out of place, meant to dwell in the shadows, not in a scene like this.
When he freezes in the middle of the bar, your fingers intertwine with his, tugging him along, and he follows after you like a lost puppy. The only thing he’s missing is the leash.
You’re met with his quirked eyebrows as you peer into his eyes over your shoulder, a toothy grin threatening to shake the floor beneath his feet. “You know, people usually sit down before they start getting shit-faced.”
“I’m not getting drunk tonight.” Logan exhales a deep breath, trying to hide his discomfort, his eyes scanning the room. “And neither are you,” he practically yells in your ear trying to make himself heard above the pounding music and incessant chatter. He wonders if you even hear him at all.
The two of you eventually settle at the counter, drinking in silence. Logan half-expects one of your comments to pierce through the quiet, but you delight in proving him wrong.
Instead, your head sways gently to the rhythm of the song playing in the background, and you take a trial sip of your beer.
He’s acutely aware of the stares from the rest of the patrons. He can pretend to be oblivious, but the weight of several pairs of eyes burning holes into the back of his neck doesn’t go unnoticed.
Being watched has never been his favorite pastime, and somehow, it feels even more uncomfortable with you by his side.
He knows what those looks imply, can nearly taste the hidden implications behind each fleeting glance.
What’s a girl like you doing with a man like him? A question that makes no sense.
Does he have money? A well-endowed reputation? Did he recently inherit any properties?
Are you truly that desperate for human contact?
Is your bed so cold that you decide to go for the first guy who can string ten words together?
Logan doubts whether this whole experiment is part of the community service you must be doing. Maybe he should look up your name online to see if any criminal records come to the surface.
Now that he takes a moment to ponder it, you certainly fit the mold of the criminal type. The kind who gets what she wants when she wants it, leaving a trail of intrigue on her wake.
His fingers circle the glass so tightly he fears it might shatter into a million shards. You notice his tension, nudging his arm with yours, aiming to meet his eyes.
When you do (because, as he said, criminals have their own ways), you smile, and he internalizes that gesture as something familiar, something he feels he’s grown used to. Something rankled in his memory.
It’s as if he’s known you for a lifetime.
“Thank you for coming,” you say softly, and he may be going down the path of hallucinations, but your attention remains a little too long on his lips. Then, just as quickly, it flickers back to the rest of his face, and you lean back to drink from your beer once more.
Straight to hell, he thinks, tasting the remnants of whiskey on his tongue, for ever daring to believe himself worthy of even a moment of your precious time.
You’re probably the first person to have his full, undivided attention. And that’s… well, that’s saying something.
Most days, you’re pretty talkative, a steady stream of conversation, your words pouring out in an endless flow.
You tell him about your family, your career, that pet of yours that died when you were six years old. You mention a friend you no longer speak to, and the events that led to the downfall of your friendship.
There’s also that dish from your all-time favorite restaurant, the one you buy at least once a week because it never fails to comfort you.
Nonstop, you talk and talk, and Logan doesn’t mind one bit. Soon, he finds himself becoming an active listener—asking follow-up questions, chuckling at your jokes, even when they’re not funny at all.
He sincerely cares about what you have to say.
This whole situation with you is beyond his comprehension. Before he realizes it, you start wanting to spend more time with him.
Sometimes, you ride along in the passenger seat while he drives aimlessly through the city.
Sometimes, you invite him over, cook a meal, and he always takes the leftovers with him, as if a part of you goes with him when he leaves.
Sometimes, you come over to his place, and the roles reverse—you’re the one with the mic, asking the questions, fully aware that you’re treading on holy ground.
Logan’s got a sign on his forehead that reads ‘Stop: do not enter.’ It’s rough around the edges, hardened by the years, all capital letters in stark blank ink. But in the end, you just take the sign and set it aside.
He never goes into too much detail. Not because he doesn’t trust you—it’s just that there’s too much to unpack, and you don’t need to know all of it. You’ll be better off not carrying the garbage he does.
Yet, you’ve got him by the throat, encouraging him to cough up disjoined pieces of his life, bits of his day, his thoughts, his feelings. It sounds stupid to him, but you make him feel alive.
You never judge him, never flinch when he brings up stories from his past. As he sits at your table one afternoon, you look at his hands, his claws fully extended, and you don’t shy away. You rub the pad of your thumb across the rough skin of his knuckles, right where the adamantium tears through his flesh.
You don’t care that he’s a mutant, that he’s killed people. You don’t try to deny who he is or what he’s done. Oddly enough, you just wish to be by his side, staring off into the void with him.
“But why?” he asks, partly flattered, partly frustrated. This could be compared to learning a new sport from scratch—he can’t figure you out, can’t understand why you haven’t run the other way yet.
He likes your company, though he’s always bracing himself for the inevitable day you find a better hobby and leave.
Your reasoning defies logic, and he’s afraid that at any moment, you’ll grasp the gravity of your choices.
Almost as if you could feel the turmoil brewing in his mind, you simply say: “You’re nice to be around.”
Nice. Nice. Nice. He’d cackle if he were alone. That word reverberates through him. When was the last time someone called him nice?
Bad-tempered, sure.
A pain in the ass? Definitely.
But nice? Not a term people employed to describe him.
It’s a quality reserved for you, with your endless charisma and kind heart, but not for a man of his kind.
He’s nothing more than a chauffeur, a driver, someone who does and says what’s necessary to survive. Does that make him nice?
When he tells you he’s probably going to hell, you don’t try to make him feel better. Anyone else in your position might try to soothe him, to offer some hollow reassurance.
Your intention isn’t to change him, for him to pretend to be something he’s not. “Then I’ll meet you there,” you mutter, your shiny eyes searing into his. Under the table, your hand finds his, tender fingers grazing over his knuckles, and for once, he doesn’t pull away.
Could it be that an afterlife catching fire doesn’t sound so bad after all?
As much as he likes to admit how easily you can shift his mood, today is not one of those days.
He’s had a nightmare—nothing new, but this one had been… different. The empty bottle on the nightstand hadn’t been of any help; it never does when they visit him in his sleep.
The ghosts of those who used to be his friends, his family, tiptoe around his dreams in the form of shadows.
Blood. Screams. Shouts of his name. He can’t save them all. Walking through the wreckage, he dodges the bodies of those he couldn’t protect, the knot in his throat tightening with every step, not allowing him to breathe.
Wherever he turns, there’s death, destruction. Sadness. Did he save them all?
It’s always the same routine. He wakes up, screaming, chest aching from the effort. His lungs burn, and he has to remind himself that the limbs attached to him are his own and not the remnants of an immobile corpse.
Sweat clings to his skin, pooling at his temples and nape. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, rubbing at the soreness in his neck.
His phone rings somewhere in the distance, pulling him from his dizzy state. He scrambles to his feet, accepting the call just before it hits voicemail.
It's you. Despite it being late, he swears he feels the gentle kiss of the sun over his brow. Your sweet voice chases away the lingering shadows of his dreams, replacing the bitter taste in his mouth with something real—a reason to get up, to start moving.
He holds onto every second of the brief call, replaying those thirty seconds in his head as he steps into the shower. When the cold water shocks his system, it pulls him fully back to consciousness. He has to get ready.
Even though you insist on getting a taxi, he refuses. He doesn’t mind the drive. His gas tank does, his wallet maybe, but Logan? He just doesn’t.
At the end of the day, he’s protective by nature, and who knows what kind of men are roaming the streets at night?
God forbid they’re anything like him—eager to prompt a smile from you, trying too hard to impress you. He arrives at the conclusion that he’d rather lose fuel and money if it means orbiting around you for longer.
You make him feel better, and tonight, he needs it more than ever. He needs you.
(Now he’s driving. He honks five times when he pulls up to your building. You get on the limo, giggling as you say: “My neighbors must hate you.” He grins. You kiss him on the cheek. Subtle. Not the first time. Still, it doesn’t get old. He feels the faint residue of lip gloss on his skin. He doesn’t wipe it off.)
Not in the mood to cook, you declare as you step into his place. The mouth-watering aroma of the Chinese food you bought fills the air, but when he reaches for the bags, you insist that he sit and relax.
Sure, he can take a seat. But to expect him to relax with you around, playing this intricate game? That’s simply impossible. You’re asking for too much. He’s a player at heart, drawn to the thrill of the chase, and he will play along.
What seems inconceivable is the expectation that he can act as if nothing is happening between these four walls.
His attempts to focus on you are futile, as his mind betrays him tonight. All he hears spilling from your lips is pure and plain gibberish. Your very presence is no longer enough to anchor him.
Already immune to your charm, Logan eats his noodles, occasionally nodding when your voice rises at the end of a sentence, indicating a question.
But he nearly chokes on his drink the moment he registers your serious expression, having never witnessed you like this before.
“Are you even here?” you ask, shoving your food aside with a swift motion of your wrist.
What should he answer? What is it that you want to hear? Of course! I’m here, listening to you. It’s a delightful night. Should I start by telling you about my most recent nightmare? Quite the entertainment!
There’s a shake of his head as he lowers his gaze, escaping your concerned expression. “M’sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.” You tug your chair forward, claiming a piece of his personal space. You know he doesn’t mind. “Want to talk about it? Did something happen?”
“My brain is just… off today.”
“Many thoughts at the same time.” Not a question. Have you completely figured him out?
“Yeah.”
He remains still, dragging his plastic fork across the now-cold steamed veggies, which have lost their appeal.
How amusing—your knees bump against his, drawing his attention. “Can I help you?” It’s new, the breathy tone you’re using, a whisper of agitation weaving through your calm demeanor.
“Can you erase my memory?” he shoots back, attempting to smirk through the wave of memories that flash behind his eyelids. When he looks into your eyes, the siren in his head blares.
Your pupils are dilated, blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweaty palms that you wipe on your jeans. Tongue darting out to lick your lips. Your heartbeat accelerates, drumming wildly like the fluttering of a hummingbird’s wings.
He hasn’t been with a woman in ages, but he knows how they react when they see something they like—or, in this case, someone.
“Logan.” His name rolls off your tongue once more, tinged with an unmistakable need. The thought of checking his temperature dances through his mind, but the heaviness in his limbs roots him in place. He feels feverish. “I want to help you.”
Oh, no. No, no, no, no—
“What—what are you on, sweetheart?” Get up. Find your keys. Drive her home. “You don’t even know what you’re sayin’.”
Saliva floods his mouth as you rise to your feet, looking down at him from above. Gracefully angelic, and yet— “I know what I’m asking for,” you continue, your voice descending to a low murmur that scratches pleasantly against some dark and remote corner of his head. Then you lower yourself onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. You repeat your question: “Can I help you?”
He’s no longer in control of his actions. His right hand crawls up your knee, palming the fabric of your pants. It’s numbing: a lapful of you, your rich smell, your quickened pulse.
Tempting. So fucking tempted to take you right now, just like this, without the need for words. Your bodies can communicate in a language of their own, one that transcends spoken phrases.
I want you, he lets you know through the way he gropes your breasts over your shirt, squeezing them together. He’s always been good with his hands. But what the hell am I supposed to do with a sweet thing like you?
His patience teeters on the edge of a precipice. “Tell me what you want.”
“I asked you first.”
“You’re gonna pretend you don’t know the answer?” He thrusts into the air, grinding against your clothed core, and you close your eyes. He’s rock hard beneath you, the bulge in his jeans shockingly obscene, bordering on grotesque. “We both know what I want, but I’m no telepath, baby. Need you to speak up.”
Twisting the locks of hair at his nape, you press your lips to his neck. “I want to make you forget, to focus on this moment. I want you to live in the present, Logan.” A bite on his earlobe sends shivers down his spine, and he grips your hips with a primal growl. “I can do whatever you want. Just tell me. Tell me, and I’ll do it, please.”
Please? He’s spiraling. Please? That’s it—he’s doing it. He’ll grant you your plea, which aligns perfectly with his own desires.
Once his back meets the mattress in his room, you get to work. With delicate precision, you pull down his pants, sliding his boxers off until only his thick thighs and the crown of short curls adorning his cock remain in sight. Your fingers tremble slightly before you wrap them loosely around his length, and it springs to life in your grasp.
Your gaze pierces into his, mirroring the intensity of his own. But something holds you back, prompting you to reach for his hand.
At that moment, it all clicks into place. Logan urges your head down onto him, and he’s welcomed by the slick warmth you provide.
Indeed, he’s very much alive.
“That’s it. That’s—fuck. There you go.”
His fingers dig into the mattress, clutching the cotton sheets, stopping himself from thrusting into your mouth. It’s not that he doesn’t want to—God, he does—but tonight, he’s on his best behavior.
He wipes the trail of drool from your chin, smearing it gently across your cheek, his thumb lingering as he watches your nostrils flare with a strained, muffled gasp.
Bringing his thumb to his mouth, he tastes the wetness on it the same way you’re sucking him: greedily, without any trace of mercy.
This proves I’m going to hell, he thinks, enraptured by the sight of his cock disappearing between your parted lips. Straight to hell.
You draw him back to the present, nuzzling your face against his thigh, your humid breath teasing his thick shaft, pulling him from a deep reverie. Your glossy eyes roam, exploring until they find his, and you gift him an authentic smile. Wrecked and blissed out, it’s as if the lights are on, but no one’s truly home.
He would’ve never guessed how much you reveled in sucking cock, radiating enthusiasm with each of your movements.
“Am I doing it okay?” you wonder aloud, hovering over the tip, swirling your tongue around the velvety head. He’s no fool, and neither are you; deep down, you know you’re doing more than just okay. Actually, you’re giving him the best blowjob of his long, long life.
Each panting, airy praise he huffs fuels your eagerness, making you even more receptive to his desires as the words slip past his lips.
“Fuckin’ amazing, honey. Got me so hard, y’see?” His tone is heavily charged with carnality, gripping himself and smacking the tip against your mouth, the wet sound echoing like music to his ears.
He pulses against your tongue, and you seize the opportunity to trace the thin veins scattered along his length. Gulping, with his gaze fixed on you, Logan notices how you’re still wearing your clothes, wiggling your hips against the mattress, rubbing your thighs together to get something in return. “Are you wet?”
Humming against him, you suck in shaky breath.
“Words.”
“I’m—I’m wet,” you rasp, voice hoarse. You try to guide him into your mouth and fail miserably, because his grip only tightens, stroking himself instead. “Logan,” you keen, stretching your neck in a silent plea, “don’t be mean.”
“Not mean. Just enjoyin’ myself,” he replies, pulling the foreskin back to expose the head, arching his eyebrows. His fingers curl around your chin, drawing your face nearer to his girth, fascinated by how your eyes flutter shut the more you surrender to the pleasure. “C’mon. Be polite.”
Blame him for it—he believes he’ll never get tired of this game.
“Please.” You whisper, returning to your begging while tenderly rolling his balls, staring at him through your lashes. And then you say it again: “Please.”
Your gaze burns a hole through his crumpled heart. He lets you have it, eager to give whatever you may ask him for. You dive back into it, engulfing his length and bobbing your head up and down with fervor. Hushed whines escape your lips, savoring another bead of his precum.
Logan almost loses it as you hollow your cheeks, instinctively cradling the back of your head. “Easy, baby. M’not going anywhere. Take your time.”
Whenever he feels himself approaching that long-awaited release, he forces his mind to conjure thoughts that will stall his impending orgasm.
The water stains from flooding on the walls.
The supermarket list.
The rising price of gas.
The—
“Fuck. Slow down,” he groans, utterly captivated by the way you point your tongue to draw imaginary patterns along his cock, seemingly memorizing every detail. “Don’t go too hard on me, remember?”
You mumble something under your breath, and at first, he can’t quite make it out. “What is it?”
“I said I want you to fuck me.”
Under no circumstances is he surviving this night.
“Really, doll?” Logan seeks the reassurance he desperately needs, fearing that this is all a dream from which he’ll awaken the moment he properly touches you. “You sure you want this old man to fuck you?”
You’re a rambling mess, murmuring Yes, Logan, please, until he maneuvers you to lie on his chest, his glistening cock sliding against your clothes, leaving a trail of dark spots. A whimper dies on your tongue as you brush your lips together, your hot breath enveloping him. “Give me a kiss at least.”
Tilting your head up, he connects his mouth to yours, growling as he detects the dull, sour tang of what must be him. He sucks your bottom lip, hardly aware of what his hands are doing until he shifts your positions, pinning you down.
Logan tugs at your clothes, peeling them away with urgency, his fingers dancing over your nipples until you’re grinding against his thigh, quivering beneath him. With a nip at your damp skin, his eyes flutter open as he studies your expression, casting you a glance that seeks your permission.
A ripple of desire courses through him when you dutifully turn over beneath him, pressing your face further into the pillow. He runs his knuckles along the curve of your ass, his throat going dry as you follow after his touch, arching your body in response.
Unable to resist the temptation any longer, he licks a long, slow stripe up your wet folds, keeping his tongue flat against your clit for a brief moment. Your arms give out and you stumble forward, stuttering as you mewl his name, fully consumed by the feeling.
So he does it again, and again, and again, flicking the sensitive bud, even though you’re already beyond soaked. It’s a pleasure he indulges in simply because he can.
Straight to hell, he thinks, coating his length with your arousal, teasing your entrance while pushing in only the tip. That motion alone is enough to make him draw a trembling breath before he continues, gradually feeding you his cock, inch by inch.
Straight to hell, the voice in his head utters as he buries himself to the hilt deep within your body, his heavy balls resting against your ass.
Like an intruder in your territory, he’s free to do as he pleases, and you let him have his way with you.
If only this moment could stretch into infinity—he longs for time to relent and never draw to a close.
What will happen after? Will you spend the night? Does he—
“L-Logan,” you mumble, having adjusted to his size. You rock back into him, impaling yourself even more on his cock. “Please, move.”
The pace he establishes is brutal. Your warm, inner walls exquisitely massage him, and the earth as he knows it stops spinning. Fire pools low in his abdomen, his hands holding you by the flesh of your hips to keep you anchored, each thrust driving you closer to the headboard with an intoxicating urgency.
“You wanted it from the very start, didn’t you?” He doesn’t know if a response will ever come, but these kinds of thoughts are impossible to contain. He’s just a simple man, powerless against the allure of a tight cunt. “Just got in my car and knew it would end like this?”
You roll your eyes at him, silent as you exit the vehicle, closing the door behind you. While fumbling for your keys, four words escape your mouth. Casual yet devastating, they ruin him: “I’ll see you around.”
His next thrust punches a whine out of your lungs. Even as you clench around him, stuffed and filled to the brim, you beg for him to fuck you harder. He would’ve laughed at you were he able to catch his breath.
With a more deliberate rhythm, he rolls his hips, jackhammering your most sensitive spot, pulling you closer as he wraps an arm around you. When his fingers find your clit, drawing slippery circles, a cry escapes you, and your body merges with the mattress under you.
Your release takes him by surprise, urging him to continue as you reach back, encouraging him to chase his own climax. He knows all too well the struggle of bringing you to this point without succumbing to his pleasure too soon. Your nails graze along his thigh, leaving delicate marks in their wake, and somehow, the passion and bliss he’s been nurturing ignites into a fiery crescendo.
Shortly after, he goes completely rigid inside you, pressing his forehead against your back as he bites down on your shoulder to muffle his groans. His hand squeezes your breast tightly, riding out his high, blood buzzing in his ears, continuing to spill into you. You spam around him, milking him until the last drop of his seed, his release painting your insides with his warmth.
Logan tucks you under his chin as his vision returns to clarity. You nose his jaw, your fingers softly tracing the contours of his beard. He pulls you closer into his chest, gliding his hands up and down your back.
Half a minute of dreadful silence, then: “Can I stay?”
Oh, yes—pillow talk. He’s not great at this either. Despite that, his eyes soften, snapping to your face.
Logan pauses for a moment. “Sure,” he retorts, dragging his fingers along your shoulder blades. He’s a one-word kind of guy. Just perfect.
Tell her you like her. Tell her you don’t want this to be a casual fling. Tell her it’s more than just sex for you.
Or maybe don’t. Get ahold of yourself, will you?
“Logan?” you ask, resting your palm against his heart.
“What is it?”
“I know.”
You do?
Try as he might, he can’t deny it. He might care about you more than he ever realized.
dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! <3
#logan howlett#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#logan howlett fic#logan howlett fanfiction#james logan howlett#logan howlett smut#wolverine smut#logan wolverine#logan x reader#logan x you#old man logan#old man logan x reader#the wolverine#logan howlett x fem!reader#logan howlett xmen#logan howlett x f!reader#logan howlett x y/n#the wolverine x reader#wolverine xmen
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Promise
12 Days of Christmas: Day 2, December 26th, 2024
LE SSERAFIM’s Nakamura Kazuha x Male Reader
8.8k words
Christmas Masterlist
A/N: This is actually my first time writing about a guy being dominant lol.
—
Ambition.
It’s not really a far-fetched concept for anyone. To aim higher has always been an innate trait in humans. Kazuha is nothing short of that, perhaps having the quality even more than a lot of people.
So, it breaks your heart to say no to her.
“Kazuha, I really can’t. I’m sorry,” you say, despondent in your response. “The solos have never been in our plan.”
She sighs, as if she has already known the outcome of her request. But her eyes remain determined, staring straight into yours.
She’s not going anywhere.
Kazuha’s personality is nothing short of resolute. Motivation, determination, diligence—she has it all. These are reflected in the over-time practice sessions every single day. The time she pours into perfecting the dance choreographies is unreal. And it really shows on the stage, it really shows.
She stands up, her long, muscular legs come into your view. They’re beautiful, and you can just spend all day looking at them, but that’s going to be postponed for now. There’s the puzzle of guessing her mind right in front of you.
“Is there anything else I can do to convince you? More practice? Better stage perform–”
“No, Zuha, I’m so, so sorry about this, but we’ve never been a vocal group, really. You’ll have to under–”
“I don’t want to be remembered as just another member of this group. Please, this is important to me. I’ll do anything, please,” she pleads.
It’s your turn to sigh. She won’t let up, will she? Your fingers tap onto the handle of the chair restlessly, unable to find a solution for this woman.
“I just can’t find a solution for you right now, Zuha. If you really want that, you’ll have to find your own way, alright? I’m sorry.” You’re trying to sound stern, but there’s only regret within the words.
She takes a step towards you, resting her hands on the table. Her shirt falls down slightly to give way for you to her faint cleavage. Your breath hitches slightly.
“Please?” she pleads, one last time. That slight view of her breasts is giving her the upper hand in this.
Don’t.
You find your mouth latching onto Kazuha’s tits, tasting the sweat after her practice. She cries and cries in euphoria, spurring you on. Your hands roam around her body, feeling her otherworldly tight abs, her supple ass—one that you’ve been wanting to bury your face into. Your fingers then find their place inside her cunt, nudging her sensitive spot deep within.
Don’t
“You know, Kazuha, I found your ambition–” you say, standing up to match her tall height. Still, you have to look up slightly to match her eyes. “–admirable. It’s one of your best qualities. It really breaks my heart to say no to you.”
“Thanks, boss,” she scoffs, looking down with despondency. The fire in her eyes died down. “I’ll come back when I’m ready.”
Kazuha then walks away, crestfallen. Her strides are aimless and disinterested. The view of her back is displayed to you.
With your eyes, you start to strip her, piece by piece—from her shirt, her pants. She’s in just her underwear now. Your cock starts to grow at the mental image you create inside your head.
You slowly unlock her bra, fully revealing her toned back. Her body warmth emanates into you. You reach for her pert breasts, making her moan as your fingers graze her hard, brown nipples. But you don’t stop just there. Your frisky fingers wander down into her panties. You found out that she shaves, and she’s already fucking wet for you. Then, you plunge your fingers into her soaked cunt, rewarding you with an airy moan from Kazuha. You nib on her ears softly, bringing out another whimper from her.
Without any patience left, you strip down her last garment, making her bare in front of you, and you can tell that she’s as aroused as you are. Her dripping cunt is finally coming into your view. Her body is yours. She’s yours.
Don’t.
You’re snapped back into reality, though. Back to watching her, almost leaving the room. You have to take your chance.
Now.
“I’m not done yet, Zuha,” you order, sounding serious for the first time. It gets over you. Lust gets over you.
She stops, looking back at you. Her breath hitches as she sees the newfound determination inside your eyes. There’s something about you, and she can feel it.
“Yes, boss?”
“Let’s say for tomorrow, you wear something–different, something that is a bit more–provocative, and we’ll see what happens.”
Kazuha furrows her brows, giving you a puzzled look. “P–Provocative?”
You only nod, expressionless, trying to hide the fact that your heart is beating so damn fast right now. “Provocative, Zuha.”
“A–And wh–what will I get in return?” Kazuha asks, her voice starts to shake. Her confidence is faltering.
You smile back at her unsure expression. She’s going to get what she wants—a chance to have the spotlight on her own. You’re going to get what you want—her.
“You know how this goes, Zuha. You know how this goes.”
“I–I d–don’t know. D–Do I really need to do this? I mean–I want to have that solo–”
“I’ll be in the practice room tomorrow, make sure to follow my instructions,” you say, stern and confident.
The words linger within her mind. “I–fuck–fine, boss,” and she gives in to you.
“Don’t ruin it, Zuha.”
—
You couldn’t sleep last night.
Kazuha is stuck in your head. Your mind replays the event that might happen—you having a mind-breaking sex with her. Your cock twitches with anticipation, expecting her cunt to wrap around it like a vice. Hell, you might get to fuck her tight ass even. You’ve seen it. You lost count of how many times you’ve watched that Perfect Night dance practice video. The cinematographer did know their job.
“Mmm, that felt so good, boss.”
How in the fuck did you stay assertive like that in the room? That wasn’t you at all. Though, at least it opened a new door for you.
You’re getting to watch Nakamura Kazuha in her tightest, smallest clothes she’s ever going to wear, and maybe, just maybe, they’ll be off by sunset.
—
Kazuha opens the door into the practice room to find you already there, dealing with work, among other things.
You give her a faint smile, satisfied with the way she composes herself for today.
She’s wearing a tight-fitted sports bra, one that shows you the curve of her firm chest. You’d love to put your hand on them, kneading, nibbling her taut nipples through the thin fabric. Her hair is freed, swaying with her strides. Below, her shorts are so damn strained that you can see the outline of her soon-to-be drenched panties. You’re going to use your mouth to take it off, while your hands grip on her muscular thig–
“Hey, boss,” Sakura snaps you back into reality. Standing beside her is Eunchae, smiling brightly.
“Shit–fuck–,” you mumble to yourself. “Uh, hi, girls.”
“Yeah, I noticed it too,” Eunchae says to you, voice barely above a whisper. “She probably forgot to do her laundry.”
“Who–Who?” Fuck, you sound like a goddamn owl doing this.
“Zuha, she’s wearing something that’s a bit–exposing, isn’t she?” Sakura says, smiling.
“Bet she must be so damn embarrassed,” Eunchae adds with a giggle. You can feel your cheeks starting to grow hotter.
“Uh, y–yeah, she must’ve been–”
“Alright, girls, let’s start the practice,” the instructor shouts, clapping her hands.
Sakura and Eunchae giggle at each other before walking away from you.
“See ya, boss.”
“See ya.”
—
As the practice goes on, you can’t help but popping up from your work to watch Kazuha now and then. Just like last night, your length starts to grow, and you’re doing your best to use your laptop to hide the tent in your pants.
(The work is actually a façade, really. If you could just stare at Kazuha for the whole practice, you wouldn’t have risked straining your back carrying your laptop down from the top floor.)
Her movements are nothing short of strong and sensual. She’s committed, showing no signs of relenting. She has always been this determined. Every kick, every sway, every arch, she gives it all.
When she bends down, you have a magnificent view of her supple ass, so juicy. You wish you could’ve put your face in it, tasting her sweat dripping down her tightness.
When she arches, you have a splendid view of her small tits under that damn tight sports bra. You wish you could’ve sucked on them, tasting her sweat dripping down her valley. You wish you could’ve made her moan erratically in your embrace.
Your bulge is screaming under your tight pants. It aches to be freed, aches to be inside of your employee’s ass, aches to be thrusted into her mouth.
The other women don’t seem to notice, still focusing on the practice. Thank god.
—
As the practice comes to an end, you’re struggling to hide your raging erection under your slacks. It’s time to approach her for the next step, so you stand up and walk towards Kazuha, who is all drenched in her sweat. Her creamy skin shines against the lights in the practice room. She’s stretching to cool down herself, while all the other members and the instructor are already leaving the room.
“So,” you begin the conversation.
“So,” Kazuha repeats. “How did I do?”
You try to compose yourself. “You did well, Kazuha. Committed as always.”
She smiles. It’s a genuine one. “Thanks, boss.”
You continue, “Now, about the solo comeback we’ve talked about.” You sit next to her. You can feel her body warmth close to you. Maybe you’re sitting a bit too close to her. Her expression is unreadable. Maybe she’s expecting something from you.
“Yeah? Is it done?”
“Let’s say–we’re halfway there.”
Kazuha’s breaths speed up a little. She’s anxious.
“Halfway?”
“Halfway, yes.”
“Go ahead, boss. Tell me what to do,” Kazuha says, slightly apprehensive, but she still has her ground. Her fiery eyes bore into yours.
Here goes nothing.
Your hands make a soft contact with her knees. You hear her breath hitch softly. Her eyes weaken. You can feel the apprehension building up within her loins. Her body jolts.
“B–Boss,” she stutters, before she brings her hand atop of yours, putting some force on it. Your movement is halted.
“A–Are you sure that I have to do this?”
You should stop.
You gulp, unsure whether to have this woman go your way or let your lust take over.
Do the right thing.
The image of Kazuha’s body, all sweaty, atop of yours, moving back and forth on your cock, materializes in your head. Her nasty, salty fluid falls onto your naked body. Her pungent aroma fills your nostrils, and it’s driving you insane. Her small breasts rest above you, and you can’t help but give them a taste.
You should stop.
Kazuha mouth’s create a suction around your cock. Your wails echo through the practice room. You grip onto the back of her head, harshly pressing it into your hardness. She gags and gags. Her eyes become watery. Her grips on your thighs grow harsher, and it’s going to draw blood out of you.
Do the right thing.
You’re lavishing Kazuha’s cunt with unmatched hunger. She cries out in ecstasy. You keep attacking her sensitive nub with your tongue. Your fingers are knuckles deep within her, applying pressure on the spot that makes her moan even louder. Her taste is salty, yet so addictive. She tastes so fucking good.
You should stop.
You’re gripping onto her waist, thrusting into her wet cunt repeatedly. “Yes, yes, right fucking there, boss. Please, please, please don’t ever fucking stop,” Kazuha sobs. Wet sounds vibrate through the practice room. The reflection of you two in the mirror only fuels the fire. You bring your hands onto her firmness, playing with her taut nipples. She keens, and it’s one of the best things that you’ve ever heard from her.
Do the right thing.
But you give in.
“How far can you go, Zuha?” You keep your composure. Please make it work. Your heart rate spikes, but your breathing is still saying the opposite. Keep your cool. Keep your cool.
“I–” She stares blankly into your eyes. You can feel that the gears in her brain are turning quickly. Yes or no. Yes or no.
“Stand up, Zuha,” you order and get up from your sitting position. She looks around, trying to find solace in the objects in the room. She’s unsure.
“Fuck,” she mumbles to herself, before getting up. She’s a bit taller than you, but with the power you’re holding, it’s like you’re six-feet tall.
“Stand against the mirror,” you say, sternly, pointing to the reflective wall. She hesitates for a bit before complying with your command.
You walk towards her until you’re just a breath away from her. You kneel. Her cunt is right in front of your face. She’s pervading your nostrils, and you’re so damn happy to make her your air.
“A–are you going to eat me out, b–boss?” Kazuha asks nervously. Her hands are trembling.
“How much do you want this, Zuha?” you ask her back. Your hands are closing in on her tight waistband already. You want to eat her pussy so fucking bad.
“I–I don’t know.”
You let the silence hang in the air for a moment, contemplating your next move. Maybe you should stop just here. Just say no to her request, and act like this never happened.
But the show has to go on.
“I’ll go slowly, okay?”
“O–Okay, boss.”
You slowly peel down her shorts, slowly revealing her black panties underneath. They’re already drenched with her sweat. God, if you could just give it a taste. You can feel the urge to stick out your tongue. Her creamy thighs are slowly exposed to you, but you can’t just yield to temptation that easily. You have to go slow.
The outline of her puffy cunt can be seen through the dark fabric. She looks so fucking delicious from the outside. You find yourself closing in the distance between your filthy tongue and her pungent, drenched folds.
“Boss, p–please don’t tease me,” Kazuha hisses. Her thighs are shaking from the uncompromising anticipation. You can see sweat running down her toned legs. “If you’re going to do it, just fucking do it.”
And you break.
You yank her shorts down, making her body jolt in shock.
“Kick it off,” you order her, and she kicks her shorts away in the boiling lust. It’s just her underwear now, before your tongue can taste her nectar. You’re drooling at the sight of the trace of her pussy. Fuck, you’re not waiting anymore.
Hastily, you grab onto her panties’ waistband before pulling it off in a quick swoop, rewarding you with an airy moan. And there it is, the treasure you’ve been seeking. Her clean-shaven cunt already glistens. Her juice shines under the room’s lights. Her scent is so damn addictive. It’s pungent. It’s musky. It’s tart, and you can’t help but–
“Ah! Fuck!” Kazuha rasps as your tongue finds its place on her cunt. It echoes through the empty practice room. Her body turns rigid. Her hands grip onto your head harshly, pushing you into her pussy even harder.
The first taste of her cunt feels salty—a combination of her sweat and her juice. You’re lapping it up relentlessly. You’re revelling in it—the way she moans, the way she tastes, and the way she just fucking keens. It’s all so perfect.
She curses and curses a variety of profanities. Her face displays pure ecstasy and a glint of embarrassment, but your only goal right now is to make her falter. You keep lapping and lapping on her cunt, tasting her nectar without yielding.
Her eyes are lit up with raging fire, fluttering in bliss. Her hands grip onto your head harshly. It's almost drawing blood from your poor scalp. Her cries only climb in volume and frequency, more demanding. It grows louder and higher with each lapping of your tongue.
You double your efforts, eating her cunt out faster and faster hungrily. Her rasps become harsher. You close your eyes and take in her scent through your nose. It’s musky. It’s tart. And you swear that it’s a fucking aphrodisiac for you.
And if it’s not enough, your hands grab onto her firm ass, suffocating yourself with her pungent cunt. She lets out a gasp, and you swear that you’ve never been any more feral like this in your whole fucking life.
Her ass feels so meaty, a product of her consistent squat routines. You do nothing but give them a squeeze and a grab, bringing out endless wails from her thin lips.
Then, an idea pops up in your filthy head.
“Turn around, Zuha.”
“Wh–What, boss?”
“I’m gonna eat your ass.”
She complies quickly, showing her tight ass in front of your face. It’s heaving. She’s expecting. And without a word, you bury yourself in between her supple cheeks. Your tongue immediately plants atop of her asshole.
“Godddd~” Kazuha grunts, her voice low and harsh. The sweat running down her tightness combining with her juice makes up an even better taste. You’re basking in them—her taste, her aroma, her moans, her sounds.
Her body spasms in a bliss. Her hips jerk against the practice room wall, painting it with her salty sweat on her meaty thighs.
And if that isn’t already enough, you drive your fingers deep into her. They’re hugged by her tight walls, before you’d curl them to make her cry even more.
“Fuckkk~” she groans, deeply. She uses her hands to grip onto the back of your head. You’re pressed into her ass even stronger. Her moans start to get frenzy, and that drives you even wilder.
“B–Boss, please, I–I’m gonna cum,” Kazuha screams, echoing over the room. Her entire body turns more rigid, sucking the life out of your dirty mouth.
“Hgnngn.” Kazuha can only form unintelligible sounds at this point. Any lilt in her voice is now replaced by primal grunts and moans.
And she cums. Her frame becomes stiff, gushing out clear liquid out of her plump pussy onto the wooden floor. Her entire body spasms and writhes against the wall, painting it with her sweat. Your mouth goes through the entire ride of her orgasm, feeling her high, savoring her precipice.
As her orgasm dies down, what comes out of her mouth are indescribable groans and guttural whimpers. Her body becomes limped after the mind-breaking orgasm she just experienced.
“Fuck, I–I’ve never thought–” she pauses to catch her breath, trying to make sense of the situation. Her head is hanging from her neck. Her body rests on the mirror weakly. Her boss just gave her one of the best orgasms of her life. “–I’ve never thought that it could be this good with a person.”
You wipe your mouth, getting a taste of her salty squirt remaining on your hand. “My pleasure, Zuha.”
“Guess–Guess I should–I should return the favor, huh?”
You stand up. Even if she’s towering over you by mere inches, you feel like the ball is in your court, and you are going to do whatever you please with it.
“Kneel.”
She slowly gets down. Her eyes lock with yours, filled with uncertainty and anxiety. You aren’t sure what’s filling her mind right now. Lust? Disgust? You can only guess.
You let it go on, anyway.
Her slick forehead shines against the room lights. Her hands start to unbuckle your tight jeans, slowly freeing your cock from its fabric cage. As the first barrier goes down, she watches your covered erection anxiously. Her breathing accelerates. Her hands tremble. She’s unsure, but what is she unsure about?
“B–Boss,” Kazuha stammers.
“Yes, Zuha?” you say, looking down to meet her eyes.
“Wh–What if I don’t do well?”
“I don’t mind, really. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself,” you say with a smile, trying to lighten the mood. Sure, you’d love to have power over her, but not to the point where it leaves her in dread.
“Thanks, boss,” she answers, before grabbing onto the edge of your boxers. She slowly pulls it down to reveal your hardness. It springs free. She’s watching it in awe, taking in the image of your stiff cock.
She starts slowly, stroking your cock from the base. Your breath becomes shorter.
“Are you okay, boss?”
“J–Just go on, Zuha.”
Kazuha then plants her lips on the tip of your cock, making your body shudder in pleasure. She’s coating you in her saliva. She’s making you go wild.
“Fuck.”
Kazuha lets out a giggle before taking in more of your length, starting from the whole tip. There’s determination in her eyes, the eagerness to make you cry out her name in bliss.
She doubles her efforts, second by second. She takes in more and more of your thick cock into her filthy mouth, and you start to reach her throat. It feels so fucking good. Your breathing grows more erratic. You can almost moan in pleasure, if it’s not her teeth that keep getting in the way. They keep grazing your cock, and it’s the only thing that stops you from crying her name out.
“Z–Zuha, shit, fuck, y–your teeth.”
She suddenly pulls back from the act, leaving you lost in the sudden absence of your high. Her hand detaches from you.
“Yes?” she asks, drool leaks out the edge of her mouth.
“Fuck.” You try to catch your breath, trying not to collapse onto the floor. “Y–Your teeth, it keeps grazing my cock.”
“Oh,” Kazuha utters. “Should we just–try something else?”
You stare into her eyes. Her expression is unreadable, but you need an upper hand in this. She’s going to suck your cock.
“Do it again, Zuha. Suck my cock again.” Your voice is commanding. You swear that you’ve never been this assertive before in your life. “Without the teeth.”
She looks up at you. There’s anxiety in her eyes. There’s the fear of letting you down.
“S–Sure, boss.”
She moves her gorgeous face towards your cock again. This time, she makes sure to wrap her lips around her teeth. And at the first contact, you cry out her name. It feels so fucking good.
“Fuck, Z–Zuha.”
She only smiles with the tip of your cock in her mouth. She stays there for a while, giving your tip licks and licks to make you whimper in rapture. Her hands stroke along your length. Her eyes look up at you, she knows she’s having a lead.
Kazuha then takes more and more of you and seconds go by, slowly. You watch as your length disappears into her mouth and her name leaves yours.
She takes your cock in so deep you start to hear her gag. Her eyes start to flutter in discomfort. She’s still trying to look up at you, as her hands go to your testicles. She’s squeezing them.
“God, fuck!”
Her saliva does wonders to the experience, making you suck a sudden every chance you have. It’s hard to resist not pushing her fully onto your cock right now, making her take its length fully.
“K–Keep doing that, Zuha. Keep fucking doing that.”
With encouragement, she then pushes herself fully onto your cock. You are now inside her mouth, and the image is nothing short of phenomenal. Saliva is leaking out of her. Her eyes are blinking rapidly. Tears are running down her cheeks. She’s making unintelligible sounds around your cock, choking on it, sputtering on it. It’s a cacophony. She’s submitting herself to you, and you’re loving every second of it.
“So eager to please, don’t you?” you have to ask. Your hands land on the back of her head softly.
She only let out a hum as a reply. Her mouth is too full of your cock to say anything. It’s huge for her. She’s cock-drunk now.
Finally catching the wind of your dominance over her, you sneer, “Never know that you’re quite a slut, Zuha.” You grip her by the hair, slowly pulling her off your thick cock. She chokes and sputters on the way out. God, what a sight.
As her mouth leaves your cock, you finally get to see her face fully. Black streaks run down from her eyes. Her lips are swollen. She’s drooling.
“What a cockslut,” you utter, still holding onto her hair. A smile forms on her face. She’s fucking happy to be dominated like this.
“Anything for you, boss. You promised me a solo~” she says sultrily (and drunkenly from your cock), giving the tip of your length a lick as she finishes her words. Your body shudders.
“G–God, Zuha,”
Without another word, she dives onto your glistened dick again, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. Her teeth graze your cock slightly, though.
“Sh–Shit, your teeth, Zuha, y–your teeth.”
She quickly complies, covering her hard teeth with her lips. She’s fucking you with her mouth properly again. She bobs her head up and down slowly, trying to catch the rhythm. Pleasure shoots through you like a bullet. And with the way she’s looking up at you so damn submissively, you swear you can cum right here and now.
She starts to find her tempo, quickening her strokes. She’s going up and down your cock faster. Her hands find themselves on your exposed thighs. Fuck, they’re cold from the air conditioners, and it makes your body tremble in the sensation.
The wet sound of her sucking your cock echoes through the room. Your hands, again, find themselves on the back of her head, pushing her into your cock relentlessly. Your fingers run through her soft hair, feeling her silk.
“Fuck, s–such a willing slut for your boss, don’t you?”
Kazuha only lets out a low groan affirmatively. She’s still aiming to pleasure her boss. Her career is at stake, after all, and you’re rejoicing in the way her mouth moves up and down your cock like this.
And you can feel it, the inevitable. It’s building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum inside her warm mouth. You can’t resist it anymore.
“Z–Zuha, gonna cum.”
She only makes muffled sounds into your cock, too busy sucking your length to say anything, and you’re so damn happy that she’s willing to go this far for you.
“Take all of it, alright? Be a good girl for me,” you groan out. Your mind is so lost in the pleasure Kazuha is giving you.
She can only nod, still bobbing her head without any care. She’s giving you a damn good blowjob, and you start to lose control of yourself.
You’re close. Your muscles grow more tense. Your cock twitches inside her mouth. Your grip on her head becomes harsher and harsher, determined to make her take all of your hardness.
“Gonna–Gonna cum.”
You break. You push Kazuha onto your cock harshly, making her nose hit your pubic bone. Your cock shoots ropes and ropes of semen into her mouth, emptying your balls inside her. She’s damn eager to take it all. She’s gripping onto your thighs tightly. Your scent is filling up her nostrils, making her eyes flutter in unbridled lust. Gagging sounds come out of her mouth.
“Goddamn–fuck!”
Your vision turns white. Your cock twitches violently inside her mouth. Cum is leaking out of your tip into her warm cavern. You’re painting the insides of her mouth white. You’re damn ecstatic. What a fucking ride that is.
Successive spurts grow softer, from shots into drizzles. Kazuha is still determined to take it all. Her hands snake up to squeeze your tight ass, pressing you forward to bury yourself further in her mouth.
“F–Fuck, Zuha.”
She smiles, before finally pulling herself off of your cock. She takes a small gulp, signaling that cum is going down her slutty throat. You watch in awe. She then opens her mouth, tongue hanging open, no trace of cum left inside. Fuck, she drank all of you.
“What’s next, boss?” she asks, wiping the remnants of cum off her face. Her face is a mess, but she’s ready for another round.
Not you, though.
“Wait a sec.” You then sit on the wooden floor, looking into the mirror. Kazuha rests beside you.
“Gotta wait for this little guy to be ready again, huh?” she asks, touching your now-flaccid cock.
“We can talk.”
She then rests her head on your shoulder, faint black streaks can be seen on her face. You can feel her body warmth emanating onto you.
“So.”
“So?” you ask.
“So, I have a question for you,” says Kazuha. Her voice is weak, clearly tired from the oral action she gave you. You two make eye contact in the reflection.
“Go ahead.”
“Why did you decide to become our manager?”
“Well–” you pause, trying to recollect the complete picture. You just keep forgetting it “–I kind of wanted to become an idol, you know?”
She lets out a soft chuckle. “But?”
You can’t help but to laugh along with her. “Yeah, my body isn’t really up for the task.” You then pat your out-of-shape tummy softly on your shirt.
“I’d like to be remembered, just like you,” you continue, sighing along the way. “To live among the stars, all that stuff.”
It starts to pour out now, your story. Despite the earlier dominance, you feel vulnerable with her. You’re showing your heart to one of your employees.
Kazuha laughs again. “It’s not all confetti and flowers, boss.”
“I know, I know,” you say, somewhat understanding her life after a few years of observation from afar. “All of you have gone through a lot, and I’ll forever admire you guys for that.”
“Thanks, boss,” she replies. Her hand moves down to play with your cock again. “Still not there, huh?”
A chuckle leaves your mouth. “It’ll take some time, Zuha.”
“Ask me something, then,” she says.
You let the silence hang in the air, trying to think of a question. It’s difficult, especially when you’re naked down from your waist like this.
You were about to ask her the same question she had asked you, but you’ve asked her that already. She loves Blackpink, hence her idol aspirations. She's an INFP, used to be an INTP. Her eyesight gets worse with time. What’s left to be asked?
“You know, I was so scared when that interviewer asked me about my type,” she says, her hands caressing your body. Your mind is brought to that interview, the one she–
“I was so afraid that the fans would reject me just because I said ‘men or women’.”
You can only sigh.
“It seemed like they didn’t, Zuha,” you shoot her a smile, holding her hand gently, as if you didn’t fuck her throat senseless mere minutes ago. “Don’t give much fuck about those people.”
She lets out a giggle. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
The conversation goes on for a few more minutes. At first, it was simply a time killer, waiting for your soft cock to get hard again. But as it flows, you feel like you get to know Kazuha more and more.
Slowly, your arousal returns, and Kazuha seems to notice that. It twitches in the expectation of another round.
“Oh, look at him~” she says softly. Her hand is drawn to touching you gently. You can’t help but giggle as she caresses your hard cock.
“Stand up, Zuha,” you command. You’re trying to sound stern, but the exchange earlier just softens your voice.
She complies immediately. Her toned legs are displayed elegantly in front of you. You stand up with her, taking the full view of her body on the way.
What a banger body.
“What’s next, boss?” Her words seem to want you to get this over with, but the small smile plastered on her face seems to say otherwise.
You pause, thinking for some witty response as you unbutton your shirt, revealing your out-of-shape body. You clearly have been eating too much. It’s a bit embarrassing.
What’s next?
“I want your bra off, Zuha.” Well, that’s far from witty.
“Thought you’d never ask that,” Kazuha playfully scoffs before taking off her tight sports bra. Her small breasts come into view, along with the taut nipples proudly sitting atop of them. She can’t wait for what’s next, so do you. The bra is then thrown away onto the floor. Her naked body stands proudly in front of you.
She’s nothing short of unreal—the pert breasts, the firm abs, the glistened pussy. She’s sculpted by a deity. And without a word, you push Kazuha onto the mirror, drawing out an airy moan from her. You press your body against hers, while her back is pressed against the wall.
She sucks a sudden. Her hands are trembling against the mirror. Her eyes are closed, enamored in the expectations of you inside of her cunt.
“F–Fuck, boss.”
“I know, Zuha. Now if you’d bend over for me.”
She quickly follows your orders, flipping her body around so that her back faces you. Your cock is pressed against her ass. You let out a hum in satisfaction.
You draw a line with your finger down her spine, making her suck in the air. Sweat from the earlier activity still lingers on her back. Her body quivers in pleasure. She’s submitting to you now.
“Goddd~” Kazuha groans. She’s at the mercy of your touch.
Your finger runs down the middle of her back, down her sculpted arch, to the ridge of her tight ass. She screams, as your finger makes contact with the outer of her puckered hole.
“Fuck!” Her whole body shakes erratically, overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re giving her. Her breathing grows restless.
“Slut,” you whisper the demeaning word into her ear. You’d argue that it fit her, with her being a whimpering mess under your touch.
You circle your finger around her asshole, heightening her moans. You feel the creased patch of skin on your finger, letting out a satisfied hum, but that’s not your main course. You then draw your finger down, touching her wet heat. Kazuha sucks a sudden, before you push your finger into her.
Her cunt welcomes you easily. You swear that the wail coming out of her mouth is one of the best sounds you’ve ever heard. You watch her face become contorted in the mirror. She’s lost in the bliss you’re giving her.
You slowly push yourself into her pussy, burying yourself in the wet heat. Kazuha’s body shakes with pleasure. You insert your whole finger into her, before touching a rough patch inside her.
That’s where you make her collapse.
You curl your finger to touch her sensitive spot, and as expected, Kazuha lets out a sharp, sudden moan. Her legs are barely holding her up. She’s faltering, and you’re enjoying every second of it.
“F–Fuckkk~”
You double your efforts, stimulating where she needs the most. Your finger is engulfed by her tight, wet heat. She feels warm. You’re loving the way she feels around you. You’re loving the way she submits to you. You’re loving the way she fucking keens from your finger inside her. Fuck, you need even more.
You quicken the pace, and it is making her quiver uncontrollably. How she’s shuddering around you, how she moans. It’s just unreal for you. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. You couldn’t have found a better woman in your life who you’d find as angelic as Nakamura Kazuha.
“Goddamn it, Kazuha. You’re doing so fucking well for me,” you say, playing with her inner walls recklessly. She’s shaking under you. The sound of it is spurring you on. The smell of it is making you go feral. The sight of it is making you feel the power you’ve never felt before in your life.
“G–Gonna c–cum, boss,” she utters, mustering up any energy left to say it. Her eyes are rolling upwards now.
Then, you regretfully withdraw your finger out of her. The engulfing wet heat is now missing from your fingers. She groans in disappointment.
“What the fuck?” Her expression is on the line of anger.
You smirk at her through the reflection, sucking your finger lewdly. She’s salty. Still, that doesn’t seem to lighten up her mood.
“Goddamn it, you’re fucking insufferable,” she sneers, still pissed off by your sudden absence. You have other plans, at least.
“Stand still for me, please,” you say with unwavering calmness, getting a hold of her waist. You’re fucking her properly.
Her expression changes, realizing your next action. “Oh,” she utters.
And for the first time, you plunge yourself into her, feeling the way her tight, wet cunt hugs your cock. It feels so fucking ecstatic. The sensation pierces through your entire body like a spear. She keens loudly, and so do you. It echoes around the room that’s yours.
“Fucking hell–” you give her ass a harsh spank, she wails in the concoction of pain and pleasure “–you’re so fucking tight, Zuha.”
“Th–Thanks, boss,” she replies, as you slowly push your hardness inside her to the hilt. “Y–You’re big too.”
You chuckle, and you swear that it’s the most wicked laugh you’ve ever let out. Your thighs press against her ass, before you drag your hips back. Her tightness around you is making your cock throb, and you thrust back into her cunt. You grunt loudly, and so does she.
“Nghhh~” Kazuha groans, as you find your rhythm in plowing her pussy. You start fucking her properly this time with your cock, pounding into her with no abandon. She feels so good around you.
No words can describe the feeling of fucking Kazuha’s cunt. It’s something beyond your comprehension—the tightness of her alone, the power you’re holding over her, the sounds of her guttural grunts and groans and moans and whimpers. It’s just nothing short of unreal.
“D–Don’t you dare–ah–fucking pull out th–this time, boss,” she commands, trying to sound as stern as possible. Though, it comes out weakly, just like her limp body right now.
“What if I do, huh?” And you give her ass another loud spank. She whimpers. Her resolve falters. Her posture almost collapses.
“Hgngnn.” She can only let out a whimper as you kiss the vanilla skin of her neck. She’s salty from the sweat lingering on her body. Her scent pervades your nose violently. You swear that she’s like an aphrodisiac to you. It’s driving you feral. Her skin shines under the room's light beautifully, and you only wish you can just stay with her like this forever.
“B–Boss,” she mewls, her voice weak and lost.
“Yes, Zuha?” You’re still ramming into her with reckless abandon. Her tight cunt hugs your length perfectly, coaxing the cum out of your balls.
“Gonna–Gonna cum.”
You say nothing but upping your ante, pressing her harder into the mirror. Her tits are splayed on the wall. Her walls contract for you, drawing breathless moans out of your lips. Both of your mouths hang open in bliss. You both want this.
“Cum for me, Zuha, but don’t think this is over yet.” You give her rear another slap. The skin clashes against your hand. She wails, as you lean in for a whisper, “There’s another hole to be filled.”
“Hhgnn,” she grunts under the weight of your promise. Her arms go limp, both hanging just beside her pliant body. Her mind is filled with nothing but your cock inside her pussy.
And she cums for the second time today. Her walls contract around your cock, gripping you like a vice. She lets out a guttural groan from the depth of her lungs. Her right cheek is pressed against the mirror, painting it with her slick sweat.
“Fuck! Goddd~” she shouts loudly from the force of her violent orgasm. You relentlessly fuck her through the forceful orgasm, pulling groans and grunts out of her as much as possible.
Her orgasm subsides, leaving her shaking body as the evidence of it. Her pussy is still contracting around your cock. You slow down, and the other plan comes into play.
You pull your hard length out of her cunt. You’re all glistening in her juice now. It’s strange. You usually cum a lot faster than this. Though, with Kazuha, it’s like you can just go on and on forever.
You insert your fingers inside her pussy, making her entire body tremble in shock once more. You’re trying to gather her slick juice to smear your cock with any lubricant you can find. Your bottle is too far away from you right now (about fifteen floors away, under your table). The wetness of her cunt is really helping you here.
“What a slut,” you sneer at her, as she whimpers in response to the degrading name. “Look at you, all wet for me.”
“P–Please, boss,” she pleads, her voice shaken with unrelenting desire. Her body is trembling with unbridled anticipation.
“Please what, Zuha?”
“Please f–fuck my ass, I–I need it,” she whines, and you couldn’t be happier to fulfill her wish.
You rest your tip at the entrance of her ass—teasing, playing with her. She whines at the act, as if she really wants your cock inside her ass so fucking bad (she does). Your cock in all glistened in her slick juice, ready to fuck her rear hole raw.
And slowly, and carefully, you push your cock into her tightness, inch by inch. Her body trembles as you find yourself inside her once more. She cries out in bliss. The lubricant definitely helps.
“F–Fuck, nghhh.”
You respond to her moans by pushing ever further into her ass. Your body presses onto her more and more, feeling her damp back, gathering her sweat on your body. The warmth around your cock is just too much. She grips you like a vice.
“Goddamn it, Zuha. Is this your first time in the ass?” you grunt. Your voice is raspy.
“Nghhh, n–no, boss. This is my second time, b–but I–I’ve never cum from that,” she whines. Her hands are pressed against the mirror harshly. You’ll have to be more gentle if you don’t want to break this expensive reflective wall.
You keep pushing and pushing, and finally, you are buried deep up to the hilt. The tightness of her ass is just unreal. A loud moan escapes your lips. Fuck, she’s tight, too tight.
You stay inside the depth of her ass for a few more seconds, feeling yourself inside of her tight ass. You’re hoping that she’s at least enjoying this a little bit.
She does, after all, moaning and writhing like that.
“You love this, don’t you, Zuha? You love having my cock inside your ass like this,” you taunt her, rewarding you with breathless whimpers and moans out of her lips.
“I–I love it, b–boss,” she answers, stuttered and shaken. The sensation is just too much for her. Your hands snake up her body to her small breast, a pair that’s unforgettable for you. You decide to give her nipples some soft treatment with your filthy hands, rubbing them between your fingers.
“Look at you, your nipples are all hard for me.” You run the sides of your fingers up and down her nipples, feeling them between your digits. She lets out guttural grunts and groans in pleasure. “What a goddamn slut.”
“Nghhn.”
After what feels like an eternity inside her ass—so warm, so tight—you draw your hips backwards. Her walls are grazing your cock, making the retreat so damn ecstatic. You pull back until half of your cock is out of her puckered hole, before pushing yourself back in. You let out primal moans with it.
“God, fuck!”
Her ass feels so tight, so right.
You start to find your pace in ravaging Kazuha’s ass. You set the rhythm in fucking her properly. The room reeks of sex, no matter how big it is. The only thing filling your nostrils right now is the smell of Kazuha’s sweat and something that screams her.
Your hands are still kneading Kazuha’s small breasts enthusiastically. Touching them fills you with unbridled joy. They feel so–soft, so–firm in your hands, as you plow into her ass with no abandon.
“Fucking love these tits, Zuha,” you utter. The words come out before you can suppress it. Your mind is filled with the sensation of fucking her ass and groping her tits. “So–soft, so–small.”
“Nghhh, th–thanks, boss,” she cries out, her voice feeling like she’s unable to make sense of what’s going on anymore. It’s just too overwhelming for her. Your cock inside her ass, your hands on her breasts, your smell, your grunts. It’s too much she might have hit the third peak of the day.
Her eyes flutter in bliss—that’s what you see in the mirror. She keens, and you love the way she does it. Her voice reeks of complete submission for you. Her smell is driving you insane. It’s making your grunts more raw, more primal, more animalistic.
You reach out to grab her face. You’re trying not to make it harsh. You don’t want to hurt her. Her moans are interrupted with a gasp. She’s shocked at the sudden contact on her face. She definitely is.
You move in for a kiss.
It’s sloppy, unrefined. There’s no tenderness in it, no romance, no lovey-dovey bullshit. Your hands are still freely groping Kazuha's breasts like they’re yours (they’re yours). Your tongue invades her mouth, gathering her taste. She’s definitely salty—all the sweat and such.
She finally catches the tempo of the kiss, finally holding on her own. Your tongues are now intertwined in a battle for dominance, trying to taste each other as much as possible. The sound of kissing rings inside your head. It’s far from romantic. It’s sloppy. It’s primal. It’s raw.
“Mmmph, fuck,” she utters as you’re still ramming into her ass. Occasional moans into your mouth can be heard. She finds pleasure in it, and you’re happy that she does.
And you pull back. A string of saliva is still connecting your mouths together. It’s vulgar. It’s obscene. That fits. You rest your forehead on Kazuha’s. It feels so intimate. You’re so close to her. You can feel the warmth emanating from her, see her sweat running down, see her pores, and you can only think to yourself: fuck, she really is an angel.
“I’ll get that solo for you, Zuha,” you say, forehead touching hers. Your mouth feels empty without her tongue. It feels great having her inside your mouth.
“B–Better keep th–that promise, boss,” she replies, voice barely holding itself together. “I’ll fucking join aespa if it’s an empty one.”
You let out a chuckle. She definitely won’t do it, but it’s not like you’re flippant.
“Sure. It’d be suck to lose another member,” you answer her with a smile. You’re trying to make it as sincere as you can.
You keep pounding into her ass, chasing both of your orgasms. Your hands roam down back to her small, slutty waist. Her breathing grows frantic. You can see the goosebumps on her arms. She’s close. She’s close.
“F–Fuck, a–again, gonna cum again,” she rasps. Her voice is barely holding itself together. Her walls contract around your cock.
Her dam breaks. Her nectar leaks out of her cunt onto the floor. Some of it spills onto your cock, some spill onto your feet. She lets out a primal grunt, spurring you on to fuck her ass with even more roughness. You plow her puckered hole through her orgasm. She’s sensitive, but you don’t fucking care. You couldn’t care any fucking less. You have to cum inside Nakamura Kazuha’s ass.
You buck your hips into Kazuha with reckless abandon. Fuck the other women if they’re going to hear this. You’re more than willing to let them know who owns this angel. It’s you. It’s you. Your hands roam over every curve and contour of her body, feeling her smooth skin on your hand. You know it’s hyperbolic, but she’s nothing short of perfection.
Her moans remain guttural and raw. They’re echoing through this practice room, and you’re damn sure that no sounds can be as ethereal as that. Her body, god, her body, you are going to keep dreaming about it forever. Her ass feels utterly divine. She wraps your cock in a way that’s so damn flawless, and it’s like she was made for your cock and your cock only.
You can feel it. The rising current inside you. It runs through your body. It’s electric. It’s going to burst. You’re going to cum inside your employee’s ass, and you couldn’t have found any better situation to be in.
“Here’s what I’m going to do, Zuha,” you order. Your voice couldn’t be stronger than this. Your grips on her waist tighten. “I’m going to fucking cum inside your ass, and you’re going to take it like a good girl you are, alright?”
“Nghhngn, y–yes, boss,” she groans, her voice breaking into pieces. She’s broken already.
It’s there, that familiar feeling inside your loins. You quicken and quicken your pace, pounding into Kazuha’s ass with an unmatched aggression. Your cock is throbbing inside her, so ready to explode. Your breathing is erratic. It’s all culminating in this. You’re going to cum.
“Gonna–Gonna cum,” you grunt, thrusting into her as fast as you can. It’s there. It’s right fucking there.
“Fuck!”
You lose yourself for the second time of the day, this time inside Nakamura Kazuha’s ass. You can see stars. White spurts paint the inner walls of her. Your body convulses, shaking in bliss. You grunt loudly. Your cock twitches inside her rear hole. The way she keens rings inside your ear as she feels the cum paint her walls. Fuck.
Your cock keeps shooting ropes and ropes of cum into her ass. It feels utterly divine, the way her ass hugs your cock so damn tightly. You press Kazuha against the wall, trapping her in your embrace, forcing her to take all of your cum. She screams in pure pleasure.
“Fuck,” you groan, as you slowly come down from the earth-shattering orgasm you just had. Both of you are panting in exhaustion. It was tiring. It was mind-breaking.
You drag your spent cock out of her tight ass. Both of you groan in oversensitivity. Cum slowly leaks out of her ass. You’re all limp, and so is she.
Kazuha still can’t seem to catch her breath. She turns around to face you, face all flushed, mouth hanging open before slowly retreating onto the floor. She’s exhausted, and so are you.
You look down to face her. Your hands are resting on the wall, trying to hold you up with all the forces they have left. Your cock is all sore from the act, and you’re going to need a good sleep after this.
“God,” she utters, smiling. “That was–that was fun, huh?”
“Y–Yeah, that was fun,” you reply with a chuckle. The mood lightens up. The lust earlier is now replaced by comfort. You feel the air thinning. It’s not as tense as before.
You sit down next to Kazuha, head resting on the mirror. The trace of her body can be seen on the wall. It’s imprinted, dirty. You don’t really care. Let the staff see it.
You look around the room, trying to cool down from the debauchery, before Kazuha rests her head on your shoulder. You feel the unfamiliar warmth from her head. It’s–comforting.
“Promise me you’ll get me that solo.” She brings up her pinky finger.
It wasn’t supposed to be much more than a currency. Robotic. Mechanical. Transactional. Though, as you experience through it, you somehow find retreat in it. The act, even if as rough as it was, brings out the side you’ve never seen in her, and something you thought you’d never shown to anyone else. It’s weirdly comforting to you. And maybe, just maybe, the two of you might look forward to another encounter where you fuck her brainless again, and you might learn a few more things about her, and she’d share more of her with you, being each other’s solace against the world.
“I promise.”
—
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truth or dare
18+. mdni. smuuuut. yeah man it’s really just smut. eddie munson x female reader.
a/n: not sure if i really like this but i wanted to post something while i work on this other long ass thing that may never see the light of day el oh el a continuation to gimme a hand and bump n’ grind or can absolutely be read on it’s own!
steve and robin had made the right call, leaving a few hours ago before the storm really hit.
eddie’d stupidly offered another joint, not wanting to let you go so soon. optimistic that maybe something would happen after those two had cleared off.
you’d been darting around it all evening, watching the movie with your hand under the blanket, stroking his thigh. inadvertently, or perhaps purposefully, making his cock shift with every length of your hand.
you peer out of the window, clicking your tongue against the back of your teeth, “i don’t think i can drive,” turning back to face him, “it’s really comin’ down out there,” a hint of satisfaction in your voice.
“i’m sure wayne won’t mind if you crash here,” shrugging softly.
you used to stay around a lot when you were slightly younger, back when touch was innocent and there weren’t all these complicated layers to your relationship.
“can you handle that?”
his eyes roll back, “shut up,” sitting back in his spot on the couch. anticipating spending the night here rather than in his bed, desperate to prove that he could handle it.
“whatcha wanna do?” you sing, pursing your lips.
“i dunno,” he shrugs, “we could watch another movie?” knowing that ultimately, another movie would lead to you touching his thigh until he came or something.
“that’s boring,” scowling at his suggestion, “i mean.. we are stuck in here,” biting on your bottom lip, “let’s play a game,” you propose, cocking your head, “truth or dare.”
eddie groans, an unwilling participant in your silly little games.
“come on,” offering zero incentive for him to play, “it’ll be fun,” taking another swig of the surely luke-warm beer. “truth or dare?”
there is not a single bone in his body that wants to play with you. no doubt you’d have him confessing to something embarrassing or doing something dangerous or stupid.
“dare,” he says flatly, hoping you’ll dare him to jump out of the window or something.
“i dare you..” you ponder for only a second, “to take your shirt off.”
“wh-,” he starts, mouth falling open, “well i dare you to take your shirt off.”
“it’s not my turn, idiot,” pursing your lips, “off.. now.”
pouting your lips, watching carefully as he lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the other side of the room.
“alright,” honing in on this stupid game, “truth or dare?”
“dare.”
eddie’s eyes light up, “take your shirt off,” immediately getting his own back.
“you’re supposed to say i dare you before your dare,” tutting at his impatience, though you do as he says.
lifting your shirt over your head, revealing the lacy bra you had most definitely chosen on purpose. maybe this was your plan all along, waiting to get him alone to inflict your cruel wrath upon him.
he ogles just enough to not have you mention anything, diverting his attention back to whatever drivel was on the tv. desperate to just get over this dancing around each other and get to the inevitable.
“truth or dare?” you ask again, poking his leg with your foot.
“do we have to play?” eddie whines.
“yes.”
“okay truth,” he spits, leaning back against the cushions.
“why didn’t it work out with you and chrissy?”
he groans again, already sick of this, “we wanted different things,” different things being you, he means.
“like what? i thought you were testing the waters or whatever?” mocking him with his own words.
“you. you jerked me off and ruined my life forever, is that what you wanted me to say?”
you ponder in silence for a moment before that god awful smirk creeps onto your face, “actually yes, that’s exactly what i wanted you to say,” crossing your legs, all self-righteous and smug.
it’s not like you didn’t already know this, it was fairly obviously to anyone with eyes and two brain cells to rub together.
“your turn,” smiling pointedly at you, “truth or dare?”
you hum, contemplating your options, whatever you picked, he was surely going to make it worth his while.
“dare.”
“alright,” eddie sits up straight, poking his tongue into his cheek, “i dare you to run around outside in your underwear,” if you wanted to play stupid games, you could win stupid prizes too.
your smile grows, taking over your entire face, “fine,” standing from your spot on the floor, shimmying out of your jeans right in front of him.
he jumps up, rushing to the door as you bound outside, filling the silent trailer park with your squeals and squeaks.
eddie watches in quiet amazement, more focused on the way your tits move with every bound, your lacy panties framing your jiggling ass perfectly. he’s close to drooling, turning into a slobbering mess at the sight of you literally frolicking in your panties. he was a pathetic man, and he knew it.
you turn, running full speed back into the door, teeth chattering and your hands trembling from the cold. barrelling straight past him, back into the warmth, lashes coated in tiny, intricate snowflakes.
“fuck!” you screech, “you asshole,” picking up his discarded shirt to slip on instead of your own. he wishes you hadn’t. seeing you half naked in his shirt was far worse than seeing you actually naked.
eddie snickers, closing the door all the while trying to keep his composure.
a smirk erupts onto your face, something ticking away in your brain before you stomp over, grabbing his cheeks with your ice cold hands, grinning with pure self satisfaction.
he hollers, grabbing your wrists in defence. it becomes a flailing sort of dance, with you trying to keep your cold hands on his face and him fighting to get you away. a mixture of expletives fill the trailer, screeching over one another as you move around the room.
you trip over one of the discarded bottles on the floor, sending you flying back onto the couch, still breathlessly cursing him out.
eddie takes the only logical step, pouncing on top of your flailing body, bounding your arms together at the wrist, heaving for breath.
he freezes, the realisation that for once he had all the power dawning upon him, unequipped for the sudden change in dynamic.
he can feel you, underneath him, pressed into the couch by his body, sending shivers down his spine.
“you gonna do something or what?” you snark, no longer trying to wriggle free, accepting and even pleased in your defeat.
“yeah,” he adds meekly, despite not making an attempt to actually do something.
your brows thread together, knee sliding up the side of his body, spreading your legs further as his cock perks up in response.
holy fucking shit.
this was it.
or it could be it if he can gather his raucous thoughts enough to make a move.
eddie’s had sex before, multiple times in fact. he doesn’t understand why his hands aren’t doing the thing they should be, why he’s frozen in place, waiting for something to happen.
“we don’t have to, you know?”
fuck. he was going to fuck this up through sheer stupidity.
so instead of letting his brain worm his way out of what would probably be the best moment of his life, he thinks with his dick.
pressing his lips to yours in a hasty, rushed kiss. letting your hands free from his restraint, allowing you to weave your fingers through his hair just like he’d thought so much about.
his hands crawling underneath his shirt, touching your skin for what felt like the first time ever, gliding over your waist, appreciating the soft feel of your skin, lingering for too long.
he doesn’t want to take it off, how many times could he say he’d have sex with you with his shirt on?
you’d already stripped him out of his clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination as his hips grind down against yours, breathing shakily into your mouth.
your lips latch onto his, tongue sliding into his open mouth while your fingers pull gently at his curls.
even when eddie thinks he’s fully in control, you still take charge. rutting your hips upwards, separated by the thin layer of lace and his boxers that most definitely had a hole in them.
there’s a fifty percent chance that he’ll cum right away, already incredibly hard, teetering on the edge.
it’s genuinely incomprehensible that after months and months of longing and edging, this was finally happening. too caught up with trying to keep to your pace to really think about the implications on your relationship too much.
he hopes that this won’t change anything, at least not negatively anyway.
your hand slides down the tiny space left in between your bodies, toying with the waistband of his boxers before slipping in. unable to contain his groan from slipping out and into your mouth.
tugging the fabric down just enough to let his cock out, giving him no time to recover before your fist wraps around the base of his cock, pumping your fingers around the sensitive skin.
“fuck,” he breathes, bottom lip still latched onto yours. no hand had ever come close to yours, filling his thoughts since you’d touched him for the first time.
wayne’s ratty old couch wasn’t exactly the romantic location he’d envisioned this happening in, but beggars can’t be choosers and eddie certainly wasn’t going to complain.
he’s so dumbfounded that any of this is even happening, clumsily fumbling with the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down haphazardly, with no care or grace.
his previous displays of desperation made sure you didn’t care about his composure, or else you wouldn’t be here.
your lips collide, all teeth and tongues and spit. eddie too focused on the feel of your hand around his cock to care.
he can feel your body shift from underneath, manoeuvring his cock to your soaked entrance, letting out the most ungodly noise as the tip glistens with your slick.
pressing your sweaty forehead against his, begging for his full attention, “look at me,” you insist, running your fingers around his cock, withholding him from full satisfaction.
he does as you ask, finding your wild-eyed gaze, holding it just long enough to slide into your slick cunt, grunting into the hot air that hung around the room.
“fuck,” you bite, weaving your fingers through his hair, tightening your things around his waist.
it’s dizzying. feeling you envelope around him just as he’d imagined countless times before. you’re so warm and so wet, so so wet. eddie can’t help but wonder if this is how you’d felt when you were grinding against him.
nothing could’ve ever prepared him for the fuzzy haze that’d encapsulate his brain, thoughts only of you and your body and your pussy.
his balls slap against your ass, slow and steady, hoping not to bust five seconds in. keeping his eyes on yours, encapsulated by the way they flit between his eyes and his lips.
heaven wouldn’t be too far off this, he thinks.
his rhythm is neither here nor there but he was trying, filling you to the hilt and then pulling back out again.
every soft, melodic gasp and cry you made was echoing through his brain, spurring him on to make them louder.
purely intoxicated with your pussy, gasping for more as he slams against your hips.
this wasn’t going to last long but he sure as shit was going to make it worthwhile.
you writhe underneath his body, fingernails grazing against his scalp, gentle and yet demanding.
“sh-shit eds,” you pant, jaw slack with your tongue practically lolling out of your head.
just hearing you moan his name has detrimental effects on his brain chemistry. his eyelids struggle, fluttering open just enough to meet your glossy eyes, pupils blown out and crazy. this was going to wreck him for the rest of his life, cursed forever by the image of you and your parted lips. the way you wail his name becoming a tune he’d revisit constantly.
he’d love to capture it, one day, if you’d let him.
no one would ever come close to you, your cunt and your god forsaken sighs. eddie promises to himself that if there’s a next time, he’s not leaving until you cum. unsure if he’d be able to control himself but more than willing to take that risk.
his thrusts become sporadic, losing his grip on reality as he teeters closer and closer to the edge. you can see it too, tugging gently on his hair to bring him back to this reality.
pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his mouth, too high off of your own pleasure to aim for accuracy.
eddie’s not sure if he prefers your goading or this softer touch, honestly neither were helping him not to bust his load right now.
“yeah?” you breathe, in response to his hoarse grunts, succumbing to the tightening pressure in his stomach, “you gonna cum?” sighing against his mouth.
he doesn’t want to, not really. hoping this’d last forever and ever because god knows if you’d ever let him touch you again.
hoping desperately to have not wasted his one and only time buried inside of you by cumming in five minutes flat.
but he is going to cum, in fact, he’s dangerously close to doing so immediately. the way you squeeze and tighten around him only accelerating the inevitable, his toes curling and mouth running dry.
he was seeing stars, dancing around the inside of his eyelids. woozy on adrenaline as he pathetically ruts his hips into yours for a final few lousy strokes.
“oh fuck,” eddie rushes, “no- fuck i’m cumming,” his cock slides out, thick ropes of his release covering not only your inner thighs but the couch too. collapsing atop of your perfect body, pinning you to the cushions as he attempts to gain some sort of semblance of control.
his face finds your chest, heaving for breath between your tits, his shirt pulled up just enough for your bra to peep underneath the hem.
“jesus christ,” words vibrating against your skin, almost purring at your fingers combing through his hair.
nothing he could ever dream would match up to that. the neurons in his brain had been frazzled, never to work or compute the way they should, ever again.
he places a measly kiss to your chest, looking up at you through his lashes, an insignificant gesture of appreciation that he felt he owed.
“you good?” you ask, lips twitching into a smile, unsure if you’re mocking him or genuinely concerned. either or would be fine.
“not really,” still floating up above the clouds.
“shut up,” definitely mocking, pulling tufts of his hair back to have him meet your eye fully, “you liked that?”
he nods enthusiastically, pining after your approval like the lovesick little loser he truly was. incredibly, you hadn’t run off into the storm, so maybe you had too.
“good,” abruptly letting go of his hair, his head falling back onto your chest, “get off me, i need a shower,” attempting to peel him off of your body.
eddie knows, or at least hopes, that your snippy, sarcastic comments were made out of love. you showed affection by being a bitch and he showed his by being a stumbling, pathetic loser.
if that was all he had to endure to get anywhere near your pussy again, he’d do it in a heartbeat. each and every time.
-
wayne’s knuckles wrap against his bedroom door, waking eddie from the already broken sleep he was suffering with, far too excitable to settle down properly. instead he’d spent his hours between drifting in and out of sleep and watching your dreamy face, trying to match his breaths to yours.
he slides out of bed, careful not to wake you, treading carefully to avoid the mountains of crap strewn across the floor.
“what the hell?” wayne whispers angrily, gesturing back to the living room he had neglected to clean. too caught up in you being in his shower and in his bed with his shirt on to care about empty beer bottles and discarded clothes.
“sorry,” eddie squirms, knowing he couldn’t exactly worm his way out of this one. “we had a few beers.. you know,” shrugging coyly. his uncle wasn’t stupid, he definitely did know.
wayne’s eyes narrow, flitting behind eddie to you, sleeping soundly in his bed. thankfully covered by the blanket as you slept in just his shirt.
“what happened there?” raising his brow at his inconspicuous nephew.
he shrugs, and then he grins. that great big toothy grin that wayne couldn’t mistake.
wayne shakes his head, tutting to himself as he backs away from the door, “clean that shit up before i wake up,” before disappearing into his own room.
eddie smiles to himself, sliding back into bed when you stir, humming softly, displeased to have been woken up so early.
“is he mad?” you mumble, muffled by the pillow.
“no.. no, not really,” eddie hushes, turning on his side to face you.
you’re still dozing, not bothering to open your eyes though he didn’t mind, you were peaceful this way, far calmer than your usual self.
“good,” settling into the pillow before slinging your leg over his thigh, pulling yourself closer, “he loves me too much to do anything anyway,” nestling your body into his side.
if the world ended tomorrow, eddie would die a happy man.
#eddie munson#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader smut#eddie munson fic#eddie munson being pathetic#eddie munson x reader
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╰➤Riding Them || One Piece
featuring: doflamingo, corazon, buggy, mihawk and ace
a/n: finally a third part for this series!! thanks for the love and support guys!! <33!! // hugs and kisses to everyone!! uwu
summary: riding these beautiful one piece men because I’m whore when it comes to anime men. 😩😩 // part 1 ,, part 2
warnings: doflamingo, nsfw, riding, buggy being a bottom, mihawk being a top, face fucking.
✦•·················• 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐀𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃!! •·················•✦
Doflamingo
This man is ruthless whenever you’re riding him and despite him being the bottom he still has his ways to dominate you and your feelings. And this man will degenerate you in every way possible. He’s spitting either god awful dirty things at you or sweet words. Such as !! “Such a dirty whore, you love riding my cock? Can’t get enough of it?” Or “Such a good Princess. Keep making me feel good, such a good girl.”
He gets even more rough with you when he’s had a long and hard day. He’ll just make his way towards your direction and shove you slightly towards the his private room. He doesn’t care if you’re in a middle of conversation. And once in the room he’ll sit on the bed and patted his leg. “Sit. It’s been a long day and I need a good fucking.”
And once you end up on his lap his hands are all over your body, squeezing anything he can grab. And he isn’t gentle, not wasting time he’s always striping you from your clothes, and he’s already stripping himself from everything…well besides his sunglasses. Placing sloppy kisses across your neck . “Come on princess.” He whispered, as he stroke himself. “Sit on your throne and ride away.”
And he helps you aline yourself with him, and this man is so huge and thick that you wince every time you’re in this position. Whimpering softly, as he allows you to adjust to his size, and he can’t help but have a smug smirk across his face. “So tight. So good Princess…you love riding me. Right?” And to which you moan and nod, looking at his eyes and nod. “Mm so good Doffy…so big…you fill me up so good..”
Doflamingo loves watching you shake in pleasure as your riding him, the way your hips move against his, the way your chest bounces. Everything gets him so hard for you. And sadly you do tend to get tried quicker than him so when you start to slow down he’ll hold down your hips and fuck you to his liking. And you better scream his name, he wants everyone that you belong to him.
And this man doesn’t believe in aftercare…so good luck with that.
Corazon
He’s the quite opposite from his brother, than man is more shy than anything. He’s scared that he’ll hurt you due to his size. After all he’s much taller than you and he doesn’t want to harm you. But after one day of trying to convince him he decided to try it out and he ended up loving this sex position. So he loves when you offer to ride him. “Mm I need to ride you sweetheart. May I?” You cooed out softly, to which he began turning red.
He’s so gentle with you. Treating with such care and with so much love. And whenever you’re on top of him, he loves to admire your beautiful body and face. He’ll run his hands along your waist and hips. “Feel so good…you look so beautiful on top of me..” He moans out. Cora loves watching how your boobs bounce, he can’t help but squeeze them. He loves watching how prefectly you fit him.
He’s always using his devil fruit abilities when having sex with you. Especially when you’re riding him. Because let’s be honest he’s a moaner. He wants to every single noise you make. So when you try to cover your mouth he’ll move your hand. “It’s okay my dear. Feel free to moan my name out. No one is going to hear us.” Because god forbid Doflamingo
He loves thrusting his hips upwards and hitting every sweet spot of yours. He loves how your body reacts to every little thing. The way your head is thrown back moaning his name. “Mm Cora…you feel so good…” And this babey would also praise you. Let’s say you’re getting tried he’ll hold your hips and thrust upwards and take over “It’s okay my dear. I’ll take it from here.”
THIS IS 100% FOR AFTERCARE!! He’ll kiss your hickeys and praise you once again. “You did wonderful my dear.” Also!! He’ll grab your favorite snacks and run you a warm bath!! And after that he’ll cuddle you until you fall asleep. A lot of head kisses and a bunch of “I love you.”
Buggy
This man is a total bottom for you. And he loves to brag to everyone that he’s the top of your guys relationship but behind close doors he’s falling onto his knees for you. He loves it whenever you dominate him. Especially when you ride him because he gets a good fucking and a good view of your tits. He loves squeezing your tits and saying “Honk”
You’ll start off by sitting on his lap and taking his lips against yours into a heated kiss. “Mmm…I need you to ride me again..” He whispered against the kiss. And you gladly accepted his offer. Stripping him from his close, placing small kisses along his neck. And before sinking into his cock you’ll stroke nice and slowly and tease him. “Such a dirty little clown…can’t get enough of me?” Biting his neck, and sitting on his lap.
Buggy has to beg for you to do anything. “Please Y/N…stop teasing me…” And you’ll cut him off mid sentence by pinning him against his back and sinking onto his cock. And he has to bite his lip from moaning out loudly. And you’ll move your hips slowly, until he’s begging for more. “Come on clown. Beg for more.”
You love hearing him moan your name out. So whenever he tries to cover his mouth. You shake you head. “Tch..naughty clown. I want to hear your pretty little sounds.” And he’s a whimpering and moaning mess. The rest of the crew probably hears him and they tease the hell out of him. Poor Buggy.
Buggy uses his Devil Fruit abilities whenever you’re riding him. One floating hand will be teasing your nipples, while the other hand is playing with your clit. “Heh..I make you so good huh?” And speaking of his devil fruit abilities, you’ll make him remove his head and place it across the room and you’ll ride his body. You’re the star of the show and he’s enjoying it.
Pspsps Mihawk and Crocodile know he’s the bottom of your guys relationship and honestly they aren’t so surprised.
Mihawk
This man…this is definitely the top of your guys relationship. He isn’t going to submit to anyone and that also includes you. So whenever you are riding him it’s on his terms and only on his terms. “Hmm I think you deserve a treat my dear. You’ve been such a good girl, how about tonight you take the lead.” And his words are already making you weak to your knees.
Before riding him he’ll appreciate a nice lingerie, he loves to admire your beauty. And you bet your ass he’s going to praise you. “Such a beautiful dear…you’re going to look even more beautiful on top.” He say softly and grab your hand and lead you to the bed and he’ll sit down and pat on his leg. “Sit my dear.”
And once in his lap he’ll place a gentle kiss on your lips. “Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean I’m submitting to you.” He whisper against your lips. Nodding, you place small kisses along his cheeks and neck which will earn your a hum of approval. And once he’s admired your body, he’ll strip his own clothes and yours and stroke himself as he smirks at you. “Now careful, don’t break yourself dear.”
And once he’s inside of you, you take a moment because he feels so much bigger in this position. “Mm Mihawk…so big..” Moaning out, and he groans as he felt your walls clench around him. He gives you a moment to adjust before placing his hands on your hips and moves his hips upwards. And he knows what spots to make you cry out.
Whenever Mihawk notices your getting tried he’ll run a finger along your clit. “Now don’t disappoint me my dear.” He coos, which makes you whimper and move your hips against his until you guys reach each other’s climax’s. And when you do finish, he’ll quickly flip you over. Being on top once again.. “Now, my turn to fuck you my dear.”
Ace
This man is a total switch, and if you want to ride his dick he’s already dragging you to the bedroom. And he’s already kissing you with such hunger. Hands all over body. “Damn..you wanna bounce on my cock again?” He’ll tease you and strip you naked. And once you’re naked he’ll whistle. “Wow, beautiful as always.”
His favorite position is reserve cowgirl style, and to top off the position he’ll make you wear his hat. God…seeing you in his hat makes him cum alone. So this position is top three favorites. And he also loves watching the view…the way your ass is bouncing off of him. “God babe…you know how to drive a man crazy.”
Ace doesn’t bother trying to muffle his moans, if you’re making him feel good then he’s gonna let the whole ship know. And the same goes to you…both of you guys are loud. “God babe…your pussy makes me feel so good…fucking good.” He moans out, smacking your ass which earned a loud moan from your lips. “Fuck Ace…dick so good.”
You guys are so loud that the ship knows you guys are fucking and they have to bang on the door to keep you guys quiet. “You guys fuck like rabbit! Keep it down! We’re trying to sleep.” To which results in you and Ace laughing.
Speaking of dick riding. He loves when you face fuck him. Ride his face…he fucking loves it. And he doesn’t want 10% percent of your body weight he wants you to full sit. USE HIS FACE AS YOUR CHAIR UWU.
#x reader#one piece#op#anime#headcanons#smut#one piece x reader#one piece smut#doflamingo#donquixote doflamingo#doflamingo x reader#Doflamingo smut#corazon x reader#Corazon#donquixote rosinante#Corazon smut#miahwk#mihawk x reader#Mihawk smut#dracule mihawk#buggy#buggy the clown#buggy smut#portgas ace x reader#ace smut#portgas d ace#portgas ace smut
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Pressing Questions
We love new husbandrrry >:)
I hope you enjoy them and let me know your thoughts!
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WC- 4.4k
Warnings- exhibitionism, slight breeding kink, completely cute n flirty babies, husband x wife kink???
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“Hey, husband?”
“Yes, Wife?” It sounded so good coming from their lips. It made her borderline giddy as she looked over at him to find him already looking over at her. The flush she felt in her cheeks bled down to her chest. They were finally fucking married.
“What made you decide you were marrying me?” Y/N asked as she lounged next to him. Their honeymoon in full swing, Harry had rented out a cabana with a daybed so he could cuddle up to her on the beach and Y/N was positive now that it was definitely one of many things he had up his sleeve. The aesthetic had been perfect to her Pinterest board, but she had a feeling Harry knew that.
Roses in the room, champagne upon arrival, brand new swimwear just for her… she had been absolutely spoiled since they landed. Just like he promised.
The warm air flowed over their forms, her head resting on her bent arm as the other held the fruity cocktail she had drunk an embarrassing amount of in the last three days. Some kind of coconut and lime thing that had her feeling more giggly than she could remember being in most of her adult life, but she was safe here. Safe with Harry, just like she had been dreaming of.
Harry chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. He traced a lazy circular pattern on her bare hip with his fingertips as he spoke, his voice low and deep. Slightly hushed, keeping it intimate. Just the way she liked it. It was like he was fine tuned to appear to each and every thing she found attractive- or somehow managed to make everything he did appeal to her. Either way, she felt her tummy flutter.
"Darling, is this a trick question? Do you really think I only have one reason to marry you?” Her husband acted like it was a ridiculous question but pressed a kiss to her forehead, giving her an answer regardless. "You’re beyond beautiful, the funniest person I’ve ever met, smart as a tack... and you put up with all my ridiculous bullshit. All of those cliche reasons and more. Not t’mention you dealing with my insane schedule and giving me your honest opinions whenever I ask, even if they’re a little sassy.” Giving her a look, he got the laugh he wanted out of her before tilting his head in question. “Why wouldn’t I marry you?”
“I dunno, I just feel like…. I mean, I know I’m a catch.” She smirked, giving him a wink that she immediately regretted. At least she could be cringey with him and he would find it endearing. Her winks were not nearly as cute as his were. “But was there a singular moment that you knew you were going to keep me?” His touch always did make her melt.
Harry, ever the touchy and slightly clingy boyfriend- nay, husband-, couldn’t keep his hands off of her before they got married but… compared to this trip? Y/N was genuinely unsure there was a single moment without him with his touch somewhere on her body. It had been a little shocking at first but every single moment made her feel more addicted to the fingertips pressing into her, arms pulling her into his body or the lips ghosting her skin. The real problem would be when they got home and she couldn’t just have this on tap.
Harry let out a deep breath, shifting to roll onto his side and propping his head up with his hand as he took in her beauty. The sun was giving her skin a warm, golden glimmer, and it took all his willpower not to pounce on her at that very moment and take her right there in the cabana.
"You want one singular moment, huh?" He hummed, pretending to think about it as his fingertips continued their slow path tracing her body. "There was this one time..."
Her breathing caught in her throat as his fingers took a lazy trail over her body. Harry had this way about him that had made her a little nervous with how attentive his gaze was, but even so… she loved that feeling. Like he was always clinging onto her last word. Even as her husband, he seemed to use this power to his advantage.
“Mmm?” She asked, tossing back the final bit of her drink before fiddling with the cute little paper umbrella. “What time?”
His lips curled up into a small, smug smirk as he watched her react to his touch. He loved the power he had over her, the way his fingers seemed to make her breathless and her eyes got a little hazy. The way her body subconsciously arched into his touch.
Harry moved his hand from her hip, slowly tracing it up her side and over her ribcage, his touch so light that it almost tickled. "It was very early on," he said, his voice low and husky. "We were at my place, just hanging out. You were wearing this… little fucking tank top." The way he said it made her know that he was thinking about that tank top to this day. Flattering, even if she couldn’t place the moment he was talking about.
She had to wrack her brain for a moment, trying to remember which day it was that he was referring to. The beginning days had been slightly hazy considering their romance had gone from tentative flirtation to a whirlwind as soon as the sexual dam had broken.
“Which tank top?”
Harry's smile grew wider as he saw her trying to remember. It was something he could never forget. "It was that little pink one, with the sexy little bit of lace at the neckline. Lacy straps, too," he said, his voice taking on a slightly dreamy tone as the memory played in his head. "It was so teeny tiny that I could see your bra through it..." Moving closer to her, his hand moved lower on her body, tracing over the soft, sensitive skin of her stomach. He knew exactly how he was affecting her. It was considered a bit of payback for said tank top.
"And those shorts you had on... so short that I could see your hips and legs… and the bottom of your bum when you moved the right way? Mm, I think you’ve always been so cruel with teasing me, baby.” The man obviously loved it though. There was no hiding that from her.
Despite it being a private beach, Y/N felt the flutter of both fear and anticipation as he flirted with her so blatantly. Recalling a time she could definitely remember now, a movie night at his place where she had worn a matching pajama set that wasn’t outright sexy but… definitely was known to show off her body.
“Ohhhh. That one.” She grinned. “Seeing me in that made you know you were gonna marry me? Perv.”
“Hey now, I just appreciate beauty when I see it.” Harry countered with a laugh, acting slightly affronted as if his hand wasn’t now resting just over the waistband of her bikini. “So sue me for thinking y’looked incredible.”
Moving even closer to her, his body pressed against hers as his lips brushed against her ear. His voice was sultry as he spoke, a little kiss pressed right underneath it. “And I distinctly remember you wearing that little outfit just to drive me absolutely wild, you little minx. You can’t even deny it now. I know how that pretty head of yours works.”
Y/N snickered at the call out, knowing he was very much correct. She had done it to test him, to see how much he was willing to put up with back in the day, what would make him tick. He may call it teasing, but she called it an experiment for scientific research.
“You are such a flirt today.” She took a moment to put the glass down before facing him again, carding her fingers through his wavy hair. The sea air did something to it that made her even more attracted to him, something she hadn’t realized possible until she had seen it herself. “But keep the memories coming.” Aka the compliments. She felt loved up and was very much in the mood to hear more. “What else did you think?”
Harry's eyes darkened slightly as her fingers ran through his hair. He loved it when she touched him like that, it sent shivers down his spine, making him want to lean into her like an eager pup awaiting pets.
"Other things that cemented it?" He murmured, his hand on her hip giving her a gentle squeeze. “There’s loads. Mm… I’d have t’say, the way you'd get all flustered when I teased you. The way you'd get all sarcastic and bratty when I annoyed you. How you were so confident and fiery, but at the same time so shy and sweet..." he trailed off, knowing he could go on for hours and hours when it came to what he loved about her. It was hard to get him to shut up about it, actually.
“So you like when I’m bratty. That’s what I’m hearing.” She giggled, teasing him slightly despite him scolding her for it prior. “I think my moment was when you set up that whole thing on Valentine’s Day. Cause god knows you’ve got all the money in the world but you knew I hate fancy restaurants so you did like… the whole blanket fort thing. With the charcuterie board and champagne.” The dreamy sigh left her lips. It had stuck with her every day since. He may not even realize how important it had been for her, but Harry was the first person she’d dated who had ever made her feel that special.
“You listened to me when I said what I liked. You got my favorite movie lined up and made me sweet and salty popcorn like I like. You even remembered you popped the wrong one and told me to wait and… I dunno.” She shrugged with her shy smile lighting up her face. “I knew I’d never find anyone else like you.”
Harry's gaze softened as she spoke, warmth spreading through his chest as she described his absolute favorite Valentine's Day. He hadn't known at the time it had been such a pivotal moment for her, but now it made perfect sense. His wife was sentimental that way. Something personal meant way more than the clothes he had bought her, or the house he’d got for them. His thoughts were everything to her.
He gave her a tender look, shaking his head, fingers tracing a gentle path along her arm. It was impossible to keep his touch from her, and he didn’t feel like trying. "You mean when I accidentally burned the salted popcorn?" He winced at the memory. It was a weird thing he always thought about, but in his defense the smell had been pretty bad. Thankfully he had air freshener on hand, though apple cinnamon didn’t exactly mask burnt popcorn.
"Yeah, sorry about that. I was so focused on making sure everything was just right for you that I didn't pay enough attention to the microwave. Plus, your pretty face was distracting enough. Could barely form a proper sentence.”
The warmth flooded her tummy at the compliment, making her want to kiss him even more. It was held off considering she knew it would most definitely be something that got carried away, but that didn’t stop the urges. “I’ll be honest, I probably would have eaten the burnt popcorn. The fact that you’d even managed to remember those little facts about me had me like… giddy. I hadn’t felt that way about a crush since I was a teenager.” The admission came easily. There was no shame in how much she loved Harry, even if she did tease him to say he was the clingy one.
Another question popped into her head, and considering he seemed happy to talk now that he’d had his beachside nap, she took advantage of it. “Were you nervous to propose?”
Harry's hand moved back and rested on her hip, his fingers rubbing over the soft skin as he answered immediately.
"Nervous? Oh, absolutely. Fucking terrified, my love. Even though I knew you'd say yes, I was still nervous as hell." He let out a sweet hum, softly, leaning in closer to her, his lips almost touching her ear as he spoke. "The most nerve-wracking part was the time between when I proposed and when you actually said yes. It felt like the longest minute of my life..."
“You knew I’d say yes. C’mon, H.” Y/N’s giddy grin made it past her lips. It was weirdly satisfying to know he had been nervous because it meant he had been worried about the prospect of not being with her forever. It had always been her plan to say yes, but still.
Harry chuckled again, his chest rumbling beneath her head "Yes, darling, I did know that." His hand slid under her chin, gently lifting her head to meet his gaze. How much he loved her was visible in his eyes. She’d never experienced visibly seeing love before him.
"But that didn't stop me from being nervous. I was just so… desperate for you to say yes, to be mine forever. The thought of even a moment of hesitation..."
He shuddered slightly and his grip on her tightened ever so slightly "It would've killed me."
“Oh, baby.” She cooed, deciding to baby him a little bit. Hearing that vulnerability really did something to her, tangling her fingers into the hair at his nape. “I’ve been yours since you first kissed me. Y’know that?” Y/N had been completely smitten. It was borderline concerning until she had realized he felt the same. “I had the biggest crush on you when we first met. You only continue to get better and better every day.”
Tossing her leg over her hip, she relaxed into his hold as she gazed over his pretty face. He’d let his stubble grow out a bit, albeit a bit patchy- the look suited him. “You’ve been my husband in my head for a long time. I don’t think I could have ever said no.”
Harry's heart skipped a beat as she spoke. He had always loved it when she got like this, all soft and gentle and sweet on him. It was hard not to be greedy for this sort of affection. The feeling of her tangling her fingers in his hair combined with the press of her body against his had a shiver running down his spine.
"S’That so?" He purred, his voice making her squirm. "Because you’ve been mine since the moment I saw you, darling. You were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life, and I knew I had to have you. You belong with me, you always have."
The slight possessive speak made her throat thicken, tummy warm, between her thighs throb a little bit. The tenderness in which he spoke had her melting and it had nothing to do with the beachy heat. This was exactly why she knew she had made the perfect choice with him. Her body knew it was him before her head even did. Her heart? Even before that. “Yeah? I’m yours?” She cooed, brushing her nose against his.
Harry groaned softly as she brushed her nose against his, his eyes falling half-lidded. "Mmm, yeah. You are. You're mine. All mine."
His voice was a low rumble, his grip on her tightening as he spoke. "No one else will ever touch you, darling. You belong to me. I won't ever share you, no part of you is for anyone else but me."
Y/N let out a breathy gasp as his hand skipped over her ass, under the bikini bottom’s to hold bare skin. The flesh was squeezed, heat spreading between her legs as the little grab only managed to make it worse. She couldn’t control it even if she tried.
“H! There are people around.” She squealed nervously, but didn’t move his hand. The people were far away, the beach not too crowded, but she had to say it. It wasn’t unlike him to grab a feel, but he had no intentions of moving his hand. The man had been insatiable since their wedding night with no sign of stopping.
Harry gave her a sly simper as his hand squeezed her ass again, kneading lightly. He knew they were technically in public, and he didn't care in the slightest. It was more exciting this way, he loved the danger of being caught, the thrill of almost being seen… he was on his honeymoon with his wife. Nothing else mattered.
"I don't care, darling. They can't see us over here... Besides, we're on our honeymoon. We can do whatever we want." Licking his lower lip as he pulled her closer to him, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
"And right now, I want you."
“Baby…” Y/N’s voice went all syrupy and whimpery as his tongue ran over her jaw, teeth stopping to nibble at her skin. “You’re gonna get me wet. And I’m still a little sore from last night…”
Her face flushed at the memory of him pounding into her, desperate proclamations of love being panted into the air as he fucked her over and over. That had been intense and her poor body hadn’t fully recovered, but it couldn’t help but react to him. She wasn’t saying no though because… she didn’t want to. A glutton for punishment, maybe, but she craved him. Body, mind and soul.
Harry's breath hitched as she whimpered, the sound going straight to his already thickening cock. The thought of getting her all riled up here, of making her feel good while hidden away did little but work him up further. Y/N had a master key to his body and just the tiniest noise, movement of word could have him undone at any moment.
“H…” she whined, feeling his hand slip between them. Finding her already wet, she could feel him groan into her neck as he pressed kisses over her throat. “H- fuck.”
Her pants did nothing to deter him. The slick sound of his fingers rubbing through her slit before finding her swollen clit was the loudest thing she could hear, over the music in the distance and the crashing waves. “God.. you’re so bad.” And it felt so good.
Her husband’s lips curled up in a lazy grin as his fingers slid effortlessly through the wetness of her cunt. He could hear her gasping quietly with every touch, and he knew she was desperately trying to keep it together. It was his job to undo her. "You love it when I'm bad, darling." He taunted, nipping at her neck. With a voice low and needy he continued whispering in her ear. "See.. I think you love it when I'm naughty. Think that you want me to touch you, to slip my fingers over your needy cunt and make you feel good. Y’want that, don’t you baby?”
Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned her head back, letting his mouth mark up her throat. It felt too good to stop him, and her body was aching for it. This was what a honeymoon was for. Wasn’t it?
“Uh-huh.” She nodded. There was no use protesting when this was what she wanted anyway. “Just be gentle, please.”
Harry hummed in agreement, his fingers still gently teasing her as he continued to mark up her throat.
"Don't worry, baby, I'll be gentle. I'll take care of you, just like I always do." His free hand came up to cup her cheek, guiding her face up to look him in the eyes.
"Just relax, my sweet girl, and let me make you feel good."
Her shaky breathing was only made worse as he made her look him in the eye as he pleasured her. The slick movement of his fingertips where she was swollen from his constant licking and rubbing and sucking had her head swimming, sensitive from the use she had been experiencing- but god, did she love it.
She knew he was feeling even more worked up now that she was his wife officially, and he was letting her feel that. “You always make me feel s-so good.”
Harry's groan caught in his throat as he watched her, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. He fucking loved seeing her like this, all flushed and breathless because of him. His fingers toyed with her still, slow and gentle as he tried to make himself wait. "Good, because I love making you feel good… S’my favorite thing."
He pressed a few kisses to her cheek, his nose skimming over her skin as he moved to whisper into her ear. It sent shivers over her body, hard to keep herself from losing it as he touched her, practiced and knowing exactly where to taunt.
"You're so damn perfect, darling. My perfect, pretty little wife, letting me do filthy things to you. Love you so much."
Her hips rocked in time with his fingers, eyes closing for a moment as he kissed her neck again before whispering in her ear. When he gripped her chin again, he made her watch his face as he slowly sunk a finger into her. It wasn’t difficult given how soaking wet her poor pussy was, but she still felt the stretch. It was hard not to when they were that thick.
A high pitched whine was cut off as she bit her lip, face contorting slightly as she felt him begin to move it. “It’s not f-fair, how easily you can… you can make me feel crazy.”
Harry hummed as he watched her face twist with pleasure, his finger still lazily pumping in and out of her. Feeling the walls clench around him and slick up his finger, he couldn’t get enough of her. "Mmm, I know, darling. I know everything that drives you insane. I know all your sensitive spots, where you like to be touched, how you like it when I talk dirty to you..."
Leaning in and biting down gently on her earlobe, his voice a deep murmur in her ear. "And I love that I'm the only one who knows those things."
“Mhm, the only one. You’re the only one.” She agreed vehemently. The pleasure was smooth and slow, building up as the slick sound of his finger being inside of her made it even more hot. “And you’re the only one who’s gonna put a baby in me too.”
Y/N knew just how crazy that sort of talk made him, discovered it not too long ago, and she was aware she was playing with fire. She knew that, and yet she continued.
Harry let out a deep, loud groan at her words, the sound almost feral. If anyone was nearby it would give them away, but he frankly didn’t give a fuck. He loved it when she talked like that, so shameless and filthy. Meeting him where he was at. It was no secret that he had been on a mission this trip, but Y/N knew what she did to him when she brought it up. His free hand dug into her cheek, gripping her tightly as his finger curved inside her, pressing into the slick, spongy walls.
"Yeah? You want me t’get you pregnant, little darling?" His breath came out in huffed pants as his control started to slip a little. A button being pushed, almost all the way down. “Want me t’knock you up? Think we should try again… If you want that.” The memory of him pulling his cock out to watch the creamy mix slip out of her cunt before pushing back in to keep some plugged up into her the night prior came rushing back.
That was exactly what he was craving.
“Yeah, I want to… I want you to do it on this trip. Please? Wanna make you a daddy.” She keened, knowing they had little time at the beach left. He was going to lose control soon, and that had been her quickly executed plan.
Harry's control completely snapped at her words. He let out a low, guttural moan, his grip on her cheek firm as he laid a deep kiss on her mouth, licking into it and feeling her desperate kiss returned before he pulled back with a grunt and wet lips. She was ethereal, even in filthy situations like this. With beachy hair and bleary eyes, swollen mouth and the golden glow of the setting sun on her skin. Every day, every moment served as a reminder as to why he was so lucky to have her.
“God, you drive me fucking insane, darling. Y’know exactly what to say to get me all worked up, huh?" It was clear he couldn’t take it anymore. Y/N had hit her intended target, and he couldn’t be out here any longer because he would definitely get caught with a public indecency charge. Fingering was one thing, but the things he wanted to do to her? They needed privacy.
He withdrew his finger, his voice a gruff whisper as he spoke into her ear. "Get up. Now.”
A cry of loss left her swollen lips as he stood up, not caring at all about the bulge in his pants. He grabbed the beach bag, tossing it over his arm and surprised her as he tossed her over his shoulder too.
“Harry!” She squealed. “H- oh my god. You caveman!” He walked towards the villa with her tossed over his shoulder, like she weighed nothing. Like the blatant show of strength wouldn’t make her even more aroused.
Her husband chuckled at her protest, his hand coming down across her ass to give her a sharp smack. "Hush, wife. I said I'd take care of you, and that's exactly what I'm doing."
#jarofstyles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry writing#harry styles imagine#harry drabble#harry styles blurb#harry styles writing#harry styles au#harry styles fanfics#harry styles one shots#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfictions#harry styles imagines#harry styles fluff
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SFW&NSFW Vi HCs
content warning:: it’s kinda a mix of modern!AU and not idk, fem!reader, smut obviously
AN:: I love muscle mommies
⇢ ˗ˏˋ She might look and act tough but don’t let her fool you. She’s such a silly goober. Okay, at first she might a little cold and distant and take a lot to warm up, but once she does she’s a sweetheart.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ I think there might be a ‘you fell first but she fell harder’ situation. She isn’t really that into dating or looking for the love of her life, so when you first met she didn’t even think about getting with you.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ HATES when people help her. If someone does, she’s convinced that she owes them something.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ But she really likes to help other people. She likes to be the one that people owe something… and she just feels really stupid when she doesn’t help someone she totally could. (as people should)
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Very self-conscious about her hands. Mostly about the scars and bruises that are on her knuckles, that’s why she wraps them up or covers them with chunky rings.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Hates fancy clothes. Doesn’t remember the last time she wore a normal bra.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ This girl doesn’t have any manners!! That’s the downside of growing up mostly around men. And the Lanes.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Her favorite way to spend free time (besides working out) is watching stupid reality tv. You know, the shows that you can just put on in the background and turn off your brain.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ I’m taking this from the trailer- if she’s having a really shitty day she’ll take it out on a punching bag, but sometimes that makes her feel even worse so she ends up hugging it instead.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ She’s really touch starved but she doesn’t know how to ask for affection. She’ll just silently sneak up on you and hug you from behind or spoon you once you’re already asleep.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ You might think she doesn’t know how to do makeup but she does the best smokey eyes in the world!!! Also has the prettiest natural lashes you have ever seen.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Loves to just lay down and relax. After being on edge her whole life the short moment she can chill with you before sleeping is like literal heaven.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ She could cry every time she gets a gift. Even if it’s something small or something that won’t last- like food or flowers- it just makes her eyes water.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Her favorite thing to lay down on is your lap. She’s such a thigh girl omg. I mean, she loves every single part of your body, but thighs… oh man.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Lord have mercy, she’s obsessed with them. Her hand is big enough to grab almost your whole thigh. She loves to kiss them, bite them, grope them- anything and everything.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Her favorite thing to do is using her fingers on you but god fucking damn it- it takes her so long to start. She has to unwrap her bandages, take off all of her rings, wash her hands. That’s like at least 5 minutes.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ She genuinely likes the taste of pussy. Maybe it’s because she spent half of her life in prison eating slop, but she’d eat you out over any food.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ I believe in happy trails on girls supremacy. So hot :3
⇢ ˗ˏˋ She not only has insane strength, her stamina is the same. She’ll go at it the whole day and night.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ I can’t decide whether she’d hook up with people often or be an inexperienced virgin. Because on one hand if she wants to get laid, she’ll get laid but on the other- maybe she thinks it’s too intimate to do with some random person?? idk
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Loves to finger you in front of a mirror (she just wants to see her own muscles)
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Riding her abs or toned thighs… somebody help me.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Honestly, I don’t think she likes to receive that much. I mean- obviously she likes it, but she’d just rather give.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ She’s so embarrassed by her own moans omg. She loves to hear them from you, but when it comes to herself? No way. Maybe a groan or two, but nothing more.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ She would never hurt you during sex. It’s such a major turn off for her. She saw and caused too much violence in her life to find it arousing.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Apologies to my scissor sisters, but she will strap you down. Especially from behind- she just loves your ass too much.
my obsession came back
#lesbian#wlw#vi arcane fluff#vi arcane imagine#violet arcane x reader#vi arcane#arcane x reader#violet x reader#vi x reader#violet arcane#vi arcane x reader#arcane#arcane smut#vi arcane smut
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[11:05pm]
MDNI, f! reader, established relationship (you’re married), calls you “love”, “baby” + “my beautiful wife”, reader wears a dress, fingering, brief masturbation (satoru, while fingering you), takes you against the wall, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, not proofread, wc: 1.7k
satoru’s been having a hard time keeping his hands off you, looking for ways to get into your pants all day.
but alas, you both have been busy organizing the housewarming party — picking up decorations for your new house, putting them up to create a festive atmosphere, dealing with caterers all day and eventually the party itself and entertaining your guests.
towards the end of the night, he was running out of patience. you could tell by the way his hands were constantly clutched around your waist, pulling you closer against him and subtly rubbing himself on your ass, and also the few hints he gave you here and there (every 5 minutes) to go help him find something (release) in the storage room. to you, he’s always been an open book.
“fucking finally”, closing the door after seeing off the last few guests, satoru sighs with content.
“that’s so rude, satoru”, you nag at him.
stepping closer to you, he grabs your chin and makes you look at him. his other hand circling around your waist and stopping at the small of your back to press your body against him. “what’s rude is making me wait so long. i’ve been hard all day, it hurts”
“my bad”, you grin at him innocently, finally giving in after an entire day of resisting his desperate attempts. you hug your arms around him, “what can i do to atone for my bad behavior?”
“let me think”, he gives you a rascal smile before pulling you in for a kiss. his lips soft but dangerously desperate and yearning for yours, mashing against your mouth as he slowly walks you against the wall. ass and back pressed against it and with him in front of you, it feels like you’re now squished in between two walls with nowhere to run. not that you complain at all, and not that he’d hear you even if you did. all he can think about right now is how badly he wants to be inside your tight pussy, stretching you until he bottoms out.
“lift you dress up for me, baby. i’ll handle the rest”, he whispers, the lust thick in his voice.
“here? in the hallway?”, you blink at him.
“yea”, he swipes his tongue across his lips, “i’m afraid, i can’t wait till we reach the bedroom. we were bound to christen the hallway sooner or later anyway”
scoffing at him, you push him back. slowly riding the dress that’s tightly wrapped around your body up.
the sight of you giving access to your cunt for him to fuck drags a long groan out of him. he always loved watching you get undressed for him, it tranced him. but there was something very, very special about you pulling your little dress or skirt up for him to hit it while you kept the rest on. it was so dirty, but in the best possible way. turned him primal, made him lose his mind every single time.
“s-shit…”, he groans once again, his hands working on unbuckling his own slacks all while watching you rid yourself of the underwear and toss it on the floor. “you’re making me crazy, baby”, he whispers audibly, to which you smile. it was cute to watch him crumble like that.
you lean against the wall, observing the way he slides down his pants to his hips and then, with a quick swift move, whips his swollen cock out and it slaps against his belly. what a beautiful sight, what an obscene sound, you think. it makes you shudder. being painfully familiar with how good and even more massive it feels inside your tight pussy, you find yourself clenching on emptiness, eagerly anticipating him.
he steps close, one hand slowly stroking his cock and the other reaching in between your legs, fingers in seek of your heat. “so pretty. so soft. so wet for me already”, he quietly speaks into your ear as a thick digit slides into your weeping cunt.
“nghh..”, you flinch and step on your toes from the sensation of his finger, squeezing him unintentionally.
“is that not enough for my baby?”, he coos. “then how about another one?”, he pulls his finger out only to return with two of them. “better? mm?”
“stop teasing me, you idiot”, you nuzzle your head against his chest to muffle your moans, hands grabbing at his shoulders.
“does this translate to ‘fuck me properly’, hm? my beautiful wife wants my cock so bad?”, he teases even further, plunging his fingers in and out of your slick pussy. the hallway filled with loud squishing noises from his fingers fucking you. if anyone were to walk by your front door, you’re pretty sure they would hear the inappropriate sounds your pussy made.
“don’t act all high and mighty on me now”, you tap on his shoulder, then grab him harder to support yourself as you press and hump against his hand. “i know you want to fuck me properly too, you’ve been yearning all day. no?”, you lift you head to look up at him. “just look at yourself — so desperate for it that you’re wanking off both of us yourself”
he chuckles at your words. true. as his fingers fucked themselves deep inside you, his other hand moved in slow strokes around his cock. he had to go slow, because he was way too aroused. if he were to pick up the pace, he’d unload his balls and blow his cum right then and there.
“it’d be such a waste if you finished now…”, you stroke his cheek, “while you have the option to stuff me full”, knowing well he wouldn’t resist your words.
“you’re so manipulative, love”, his fingers slam harder for one last time, making your whole body jerk forward, before he pulls them out, covered and glistening with your arousal that he cleans with his mouth. “always getting under my skin…”
you shoot him a victorious smile which he wipes off with his lips. part of him embarrassed that he caved in so quickly, falling weak to his desire of you. he wanted to tease you a little bit longer, but you always had your way with him. making his resolve crumble with a single word.
“…but i’ll get under yours now”, breaking the kiss, he whispers. then bends a little to catch your leg in the crook of his arm, stands straight and lifts it, opening your thighs wider while your leg dangles in the air. the head of his cock taps against your belly and you feel the pulse throbbing in it.
the only support you have right now is your other leg, the wall behind you and satoru who holds you in place. both of your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, as he starts guiding his cock towards your entrance, his head slowly slipping inside.
“oh god” — you both simultaneously moan out. a deep groan follows shortly after and vibrates through his throat and into your mouth from feeling you open inch by inch for him as he slides it almost entirely in. he needed to go deeper though, the root of his cock still out and uncovered by your walls.
he pulls out and grabs your other leg into his arms, hoisting you into the air and pressing you harder against the wall while you hold on tight to his shoulders. after looking down and catching a glimpse of your dewy pussy lips pouting open for his cock, he throws his head back and curses under his breath, desperately trying to hold in the load in his balls. he shuts his eyes close and counts to ten, then looks back at you. eyes lovesick, yearning and a little bit watery. “what you do to me is not humane at all”
“hmm, don’t you love it?”, you crane your neck enough to press your forehead against his, looking deep into your favorite pair of eyes.
“oh, i do. i so do love it”, he breathes out, staring back at yours. then takes a deep breath before he enters you again. spreading your lips and diving deep until he bottoms out in you in a single thrust. you’re so wet and welcoming, his cock goes all the way in effortlessly. the position being perfect, too, to fully hide himself in you.
your legs lock around his back as his pelvis starts rolling and jarring against you, panting breaths of pleasure and skin slapping against each other echoing throughout the hallway of your house. satoru’s hips were charging with such desperation, slamming against you so hard, that you were sure the places where his flesh met yours were already red.
“nghh…”, you mewl through gritted teeth, feeling yourself starting to cum as you suck him as deeply as possible, your wetness increasing now and bathing his cock in it. “…d-don’t stop, d-don’t…augh”
“f-fuck…you say that as if it’s easy, baby. do you have any idea how good you feel?”, he barely drags out. your added slickness making it hard for him to control his thrusts now, too difficult to adapt and stop his cock from sliding in and out of you too quickly that his legs start shaking.
seeing him so desperate and sloppy with his movements was such a turn-on, it was really doing it for you. not that his cock wasn’t hitting the sweetest of your spots. but that was the last push you needed towards your climax.
“i’m— ah, i’m cumming”, you stutter, your orgasm coming onto you hard. head falling in the crook of his neck, nails digging into his clothed shoulders, eyes rolling back as he keeps hitting his cock into your sore cunt, chasing his own release.
“s-shit—“, he grunts throatily. his cock feeling bigger, more bloated and harder than ever as he pounds a few more times into you before burying himself still and emptying his balls into your sopping hole. hot spurts of cum gush inside you, his body jerking after each load.
both of you stand there for a few minutes, trying to catch your breaths — you’re still wrapped around him while his cock’s got you nailed against the wall.
“you think i can carry you to the bedroom without pulling out? it should work, right? my cock’s big enough, won’t slip out”, satoru breaks the silence.
“you flexing now?”, you chuckle. “why don’t you give it a try? i don’t feel my legs anyway”
“oh my, did i make it hard for you to walk?”, he sneers at you proudly.
“oh shut up and carry me”
#ઈઉ — ai writes#[ ♡ ] — satoru#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut
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LET IT ONCE BE ME | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [7]
Description: The THREE times she waits + the ONE time she doesn't have to.
length: 17.9k
trigger warnings: criminal minds gore + violence. jealousy. talks of sex and male and female anatomy. they get horny for one another basically. talks of Maeve + day of the dead. yearning idk? mention of one twin absorbing the other one in the womb (sorry if this is taken the wrong way but I conferred with my friend who did this when she was a foetus and she said it's not offensive and is okay to talk about so?)
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‘Let it once be me, who do I have to speak to
About if they can redo the prophecy?’
The one where they pretend to be married
“I will not be exploited in my own home,” Bugsy chided, the faint smell of burning toast filling the small kitchenette. The butter knife sat ready in her hand, salted spread dripping down the handle where she’d been busy making breakfast before she had been called.
He blinked back at her, unamused.
“No. You cannot just scream at me whenever you want something from me. This relationship is toxic,” She huffed, turning back to butter her toast with the thick goodness. Sometimes she loathed living with three boys who had her wrapped around their fingers.
The second piece of bread popped out of the toaster, which she quickly grabbed and began spreading, her fingers gripping onto the crusts gently as she did so. The squealing started again just as she readied herself to take the first bite, and she whirled around to see the two orange eyes that stared at her from on top of the counter.
“Sergio, stop. You’ll get Niko all wound up-” She hadn’t even finished her sentence when Spencer shuffled into the kitchen, his hair mussed from sleep, his long plaid pyjama bottoms skirting high up his ankles where he’d impossibly hit another growth spurt and forgot to find better fitting clothes. Niko darted in between his legs, rushing to jump up on the breakfast bar, where Sergio was already interrogating Bugsy for more treats, a low yowl leaving his throat at the thought of being left out of feeding. “You boys are driving me crazy, no more biscuits for today-”
The yowl grew in decibels, a second one symphonying it, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the whiney babies, turning to hand Spencer his piece of toast, crust already cut off and split into halves the way he liked it.
“I warned you not to treat them when I’m not here, they’ve become spoiled brats,” She huffed, though she felt her entire body warm up when she looked at his doe eyes, still half idled with sleep as he watched her swan around his kitchen, their kitchen technically since she had all but moved in to his little apartment meant for two housemates.
But they weren’t just house mates. They weren’t even dating. But she knew he wanted to. Because he loved her.
“How could you expect me to say no, they’re so compelling,” He said, his voice gravelly where he’d lightly snored, as much as he always denied he did, fussing Niko behind the ear with long, gentle fingers. He took the plate out of her hand, his eyes swirling with a moved expression when he saw she’d cut his crusts off, his gaze snapping back up to where she’d sweeped her hair out her face, a large shirt and a pair of his clean boxers adorning her figure, “Thankyou,”
He hadn’t said the three magic words since, neither of them had. But they felt it. The weird static that had been thick in the air between them before was crackling along their skin with every glance, like they were both thinking the same thing.
I love you, and you love me.
He smiled at her warmly, the urge to grab her by her face and kiss her skin all over almost overwhelming him, because he counted himself lucky every single day. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him. He heard it in every heart beat, like a mantra that his chest clung to since the words had spilled from her soft lips. She was waiting for him, for his head to settle with the idea that Maeve was gone, and he could let her go and not feel terrible about it; waiting for him to make the first move.
“Coffee?” He asked, watching her eyes soften as they trailed over his face, and he worried he looked a little worse for wear since he’d rolled out of bed and headed towards the source of the girl he loved arguing with someone in the kitchen even though that someone had turned out to be the greedy bastard they loved dearly.
He knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to have her waiting on him, and he never let himself forget it.
“Yes, please,” She said, and he brushed past her, close enough for it to be on purpose when their arms touched, his hands busying themselves in between the plate and munching on the first bite of breakfast, because he didn’t know what he might do if they spent one more second looking at one another like that.
She watched him move towards the kettle she’d sent him for Christmas when she was in London. After using one for two weeks she’d seen the light and realised he would love the nifty little invention. Her arm burned where he’d touched as if he’d taken a flame to her skin, her chest boiling up with every single thing she could think to tell him, like how good his hair looked when he didn’t do much with it, or how hot his voice sounded like that, or that she really really did love him the way she’d never even thought possible outside her silly romance novels, that she’d never believed Pip when he’d told Estella; “You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read,” and yet when she thought of it now, watching Spencer busy himself shovelling sugar into two mugs, it made entire perfect sense.
She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew him, and she didn’t ever want to know.
She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to say those three little words again, or just to tell him he smelled good even when he hadn’t put any deodorant or aftershave on, but her phone’s ringtone cut her off.
Already knowing it was going to be Penelope with a new case, she flicked the call on to speaker phone, “What you got for me, baby girl?” She said, trying to make her voice as deep as it would go, and she heard Spencer snickering where he was stirring hot water into the instant coffee.
“Was that supposed to be Morgan?” Pen’s voice replied, a small chuckle of her own evident even through the digital tone.
“I thought that was pretty good,” Bugsy replied, stuffing the last of the toasted bread into her mouth.
“I thought he was right in the room with us for a moment there,” Spencer chimed in, humouring her, as he also took an enormous bite from his breakfast, knowing they were more than likely about to be called in and their game of house, one where they flustered every time they spoke, was going to be over, “I was like, woah, Morgan, when did you get here-”
“Alright, my little rascals. We have a case, Hotch wants everyone in,” Penelope said, no doubt already paging through JJ, “No more coffee for either of you, you’re both being weird enough as it is,”
“Definitely not,” Spencer said, sliding the mug of milky, sweet caffeine over to Bugsy who smiled at him wickedly.
“Wheels up in twenty, Garcia,” The woman added in the same voice as before, Spencer laughing with a shake of his head and moving to stand behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his arm winding around her waist to give her a small, affectionate squeeze on the hip.
Penelope sighed, already accepting that their mercurial attitudes weren’t going away any time soon, the sudden mood change entirely odd to the rest of the team who had no idea that they had almost kissed just one week ago. To everyone else, they just seemed to have bounced back to normal, reverted back to Bugsy and Spencer; attached at the hip, only the eye contact and secretive smiles had been dialled to a hundred. The line went dead, and her head shot to look at him, where his hand had yet to move, and it was scoldingly hot against the soft fat that gathered at her hips.
“I’ll get your good shirt, I put it out to dry yesterday,” She said, her voice suddenly much less brave than it had been when she saw his eyes crinkling with a small smile.
He nodded, and she caught his gaze trailing down her nose, darting over her lips for a second in a way that made her chest rev like a Ferrarri out of gear. She felt her breath catch in her throat when he looked back up to her eyes, his forest hues entrancing like he was playing some silent flute song and she was a snake dancing under his orders.
He took a second to realise they were standing in his kitchen, his body pressed against hers like he hadn’t even realised they were so close, like he’d just gravitated to her that way, like he couldn’t stop it even if he’d tried to. He’d had a taste of nectar, and he was a drunk man ever since.
Spencer wrangled a hold of himself, allowing himself to stroke the back of her head lovingly, and pressing a kiss to her crown, before he stepped away from her, and the siren song dropped, the two of them dispersing to get ready for the case.
Bugsy swore she could hear her heart pounding the entire drive to headquarters.
–
“I think the real question is why married couples?” Hotch mused, a steaming cup of black coffee sitting in front of him on the jet, his nose in the file on his lap.
Bugsy scanned over the manilla folder in her hands, her legs swinging rhythmically beneath the table she sat on, Rossi to her left, her own second cup of coffee squeezed between her thighs. It was a heavy case for a weekend morning, three married couples found slashed and dumped together, the UnSub showing no signs of slowing or stopping.
“If he’s a sadist, having a witness to his torture heightens his pleasure,” Alex added, her lips pursed in contemplation, her hair primped surprisingly neat considering they’d been called in with little to no notice on a Sunday.
“Israel Keyes kidnapped a husband and wife at gunpoint, got them in a car, took them to a remote location, and then killed the husband in front of the wife,” Spencer said, trying not to look straight at Bugsy when he felt her eyes on him.
He’d never been one to keep a good poker face, never been good at hiding how he felt especially when he was happy. And she made him happier than he deserved to be. He knew their little arrangement would become glaringly obvious to the rest of the team if he let himself look at her. he had no control of his face when it came to her, how he felt his eyes soften, his lips turn up into a dopey smile, his hands itching to touch her just to confirm she was real.
He saw her head tilt down, into her lap as she tried desperately to focus on the words on the page, but he caught the small smile that she kept for herself, and he had a feeling she was struggling just as much as he was.
“Keyes was a sexual sadist, though,” Rossi interjected, his hands wrapped around a scolding cup of the green tea Penelope had bought them because she’d read of the stress relief benefits. They’d taken it, but David and Bugsy were the only ones who had tried it, “This guy, I don’t know,”
“Cutting a husband and wife to death, it’s more like he’s mocking their marriage bond,” JJ said, her bluebell hues dancing to Bugsy when the girl chimed in.
“Mutilating both of them, killing them together, it’s like the idea of couples and happy marriage is a trigger for him; it’s personal. He wants to make them pay for their happiness, likely because something’s stopping him from having it too,” She said, taking a long sip of her coffee, Rossi nodding along with her.
“That’s where my head’s at. ‘You took each other for better or worse, now I’m going to show you worse’,” He said, leaning back against the table, his shoulder nudging the younger girl.
Derek stroked a hand over his stubbled beard, “His home life’s probably a wreck, at least one ex-wife, not to mention mom and dad,”
“Alright we need to hit the ground,” Hotch said, flicking a glance at the youngest agent where she was all but inhaling her sweet beverage, “Prentiss and Reid, I want you mapping out a geographical profile,”
She nodded, her eyes slowly trailing to Spencer’s as Hotch distributed jobs around the team, but her head subconsciously tuned his stern voice out into static. Because when she looked up at his face, he was already staring at her, and the sound of her heartbeat racing crawled its way back into her ear, the thrumming so loud she was sure David could hear it too, she might as well have held a megaphone to her mouth and announced “Spencer Reid, you make me so nervous in the good kind of way,”
His hazel eyes trailed over her face, her expression unreadable as she scrambled to keep a lid on her feelings, and she wondered if this was where the phrase ‘Don’t shit where you eat,’ came from, because him so much as looking at her wiped her mind completely, which was not ideal for an agent working on a case. But she couldn’t help it, he was enchanting, and she guessed he was having just as much of an inner quarrel as he looked away from her, the apples of his cheeks and tips of his earlobes turning a strawberry ice cream pink.
She had no idea how she was going to make it through the rest of the day so close to him.
–
“First couple were last seen on the corner of Hill Avenue, Bella Mia Italian restaurant,” Bugsy read from her scrawled notes, as Spencer took a purple white board pen to the map of Detroit. Drawing a circle of a 5 centimetre radius around the little dot, he kept his eyes ahead of him. Hearing her pace behind him, he didn’t need to look up to know she was chewing her cuticles again.
“Stop biting,” He chided lightly, hearing a guilty silence where he knew she’d caught herself with embarrassment. He tried not to show his amusement, knowing it would only make her feel worse, he bit down a smirk and raised his pen back to the map, “Next one?”
She’d been on edge all day. He would have probably brushed it off as caffeine jitters seeing as she was on her fourth cup already, but Spencer knew her too well to know her tolerance was so high she had about two more mugs in her before she’d start to crash.
He knew what it was, the memory of her skin beneath his lips burning his cheeks all over again, the look in her eyes when he’d been close enough they were sharing breath. He knew what it was because he felt it too. It was like their confession had set off a ticking time bomb, one that neither of them had the countdown to, and the clicking of every passing second sounded oddly like a pulse in their throats. To put it short, just the sound of her footsteps was making his skin pimpled with gooseflesh.
“Uh, next one is Bowlarama, about ten stores down from there, Couple number two were seen getting milkshakes and heading towards the parking lot before they went missing,” She recited, her fingers firmly clutching the paper in her hand to resist the urge of gnawing at her nails again. Why was she so nervous? She lived with Spencer, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with Spencer, spent almost all her evenings either playing chess or watching movies with Spencer, or on the odd occasion he found a book in reach he hadn’t read yet, he’d read out parts to her he found particularly engaging to those million, trillion, billion neurological pathways of his.
The squealing of the pen against the board was the only thing keeping her head in the case, Spencer’s messy handwriting dotting around the map with points of interest, and she begged her brain to kick into gear the way it normally did, tried everything to yank herself out of the head fog she’d found herself lost in where thoughts of him emerged through like Mr Darcy strolling through those clouded moors, like how his voice sounded when he smiled, how his hand looked gripping that pen, how his body was lithe and handsome even from the back.
She shook her head, jamming her face back into her files, to the gory images of couple number three, mutilated and bloody, and reminded herself she had a job to do.
Get it together, Prentiss.
“Couple number three’s last known location was on the corner of Whittier Avenue, outside a wine bar named Blue Mates,” Bugsy read out, hoping her hot cheeks would dissipate before he noticed, “It seems couples out on date night really agitate this guy,”
Spencer hummed, focused on his third circle, the three of them overlapping with almost precise measurements. It was hard not to notice the pattern to them. He heard her draw nearer with his profile complete, and they stood beside one another, so close they knocked hands when they leaned in to take a closer look at the rings.
“He hits the same street of stores every time, one after another,” Spencer said, his long forefinger trailing down the strip of shops and bars the UnSub seemed to have a taste for, “I mean, excluding retail and supermarkets, since they’re unlikely spots for a husband and wife to go out on a date, the pattern is really quite linear where he hits next,”
Gently taking the pen out of his hands, Bugsy leaned up to colour in every single store that would be considered retail, crossing out a pet shop or two, leaving only the cafes, bars, restaurants, even a cinema. And sure enough, the three spots the victims had been last seen lined up perfectly as the first three ‘date night’ locations on the strip, the next being a steak restaurant named The Greasy Grill.
“How much do you want to bet our UnSub is getting a craving for Sirloin right about now?” Bugsy said, putting the pen down onto the table and they exchanged a look of accomplishment, just as Hotch walked in with the Chief of Detroit police.
“What did you find?” Hotch asked, his eyes falling to the asterisks drawn on the whiteboard, the rest of the known locations Penelope had sent dotted around the map.
“Date night is very important to this UnSub,” Spencer said, the two of them turning to their boss, his shoulder bumping hers, and it was only then she’d realised she was all but pressing up into his side.
“He goes on dates?” The chief of police asked, his brows furrowed. Taking a step away, her eyes darting to the map as a means of distracting herself, she pointed to the ink marks they’d squiggled on the paper.
“No, but the victims do and he knows that,” She explained, tracing a chewed fingertip down the street, “The UnSub hit here first, where our first couple went out for pizza. He then moved down here where the second victims had their date night in a bowling alley, and onto our newest victims, they were last seen having wine here, each kidnapping site along the same strip with the next possible location being right here,” She said, her finger slapping against the Greasy Grill, Hotch nodding in thought as the Chief got on the phone with his own team.
“Good work, you two,” Hotch hummed, and he opened his mouth to speak again when Bugsy’s phone began to ring.
Snatching it out of her pocket, she caught sight of Alex’s name before swiping to answer, pressing it to her ear, “Hello?”
“Fourth victim has just been found dumped in a car.” The woman said immediately, and Bugsy switched her mobile to speaker so the other two could hear her. Turning on her heels to face the white board, she grabbed the pen resting on the table beside her, yanking the lid off with her teeth.
“Where?” She asked, Spencer picking the plastic from between her lips to help her communicate, her eyes focused on the road names as she waited for Alex’s response.
“Back alley between Warren and Forest Avenue, one woman found alone in a white Buick,” Alex said, and all three of their faces scrunched in confusion as she said it.
“He’s changed his victimology,” Spencer murmured and Bugsy nodded, her lips pressed in a flat line, “Alex, is the woman married at least, or has the UnSub completely altered his preference?”
“We have her husband here right now,” Alex confirmed, and Hotch stepped over to where the two geniuses inspected the map, “He said he missed a dinner reservation they had two nights ago at a restaurant called-”
“The Greasy Grill?” Spencer and Bugsy spoke synchronously, and Alex paused audibly.
“I take it you two have figured out his pattern already?” She asked, though she didn’t sound all too surprised.
“See if the husband knows anything else, Blake. We’re going to figure out the next location that fits the pattern,” Hotch ordered, and they bid each other goodbye, as Bugsy and Spencer were already coordinating which plots of land were retail stores.
By the time the line went dead, there was a big red mark circling a mini golf course slash cocktail bar, and the duo looked at him expectantly.
“If the UnSub keeps his victims for around three days at a time, and the woman was found this morning, my guess is he’s going to head there tonight,” Bugsy said, capping the pen and dropping it back onto the desk, feeling Spencer nodding behind her, “And if the victim was supposed to be at the restaurant with her husband, it means he’s still looking for couples, he just happened to get unlucky. He’s going to want another happy-go-lucky husband and wife pairing,”
Hotch’s face became unreadable for a moment, his gaze switching between the two of them, like he was assessing the risk factor of sending his two youngest agents undercover for the second time. But they seemed to have worked together seamlessly the first time, in that casino, so he didn’t see the qualms about asking them to work the same act this time.
“What?” Bugsy asked, the look in his eye unnerving her, and she flicked a glance behind her at Spencer’s equally lost expression, turning back to see Hotch dialling Dave’s number to update him on their plan, “Hotch, what is it?”
“He wants a happy couple,” Hotch said, his phone already up to his ear as he eyed the little to zero space between the two agents who swore blind they were just friends, “We’re going to give him one,”
–
She had to admit, this was a little nicer than the red dress she’d been stuffed into last time. The sundress was flowy enough she could hide her gun strapped to her hip, and still compliment her figure nicely enough that she couldn’t complain. And best of all, it meant she could wear her ballet pumps instead of those god awful stilettos she’d pulled out last time they were undercover.
She still remembered that evening in the casino, watching Spencer’s big brain tick faster than she’d thought possible even for him. The briefing of this even seemed much more relaxed, seeing as their aim was to look like the happiest couple alive. ‘You worry about playing your parts, we’ll worry about playing ours,’; was what Alex had said when she’d brought in a dress about Bugsy’s size, the woman already styling her hair to look like she was really going on a date.
Because she was, sort of, not really, going on a date with Spencer. Except none of it was real, like someone up there had to have one final laugh at her luck, like that carrot on a string she’d been waiting patiently for the past week was looking a lot more delicious by the second as it dangled in front of her.
There was a knock on the small hotel room Hotch had booked them in for the evening, seeing as they were going to be scoping out the area until late, and Bugsy headed for the door without pause, thinking it was JJ returning with the fake wedding rings they’d gotten from a cheap jewellers down the street.
She swung the door open, only to be greeted by two dark eyes looking at her done up face, her primped hair, her floral dress.
“Spence,” She said, picking over every inch of him, breathless already, because she always thought he looked hot in a button down shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, “You look-”
“You look beautiful,” He rushed, like he might just burst if he held it in any longer, and she smiled sheepishly, her face flooding with heat all over again. Damn you, Reid, with your stupid charm and ridiculously good looking lips.
“You look beautiful too,” She complimented, noticing a gold band on his finger then and she realised he had something in his palm, “You run into JJ already?”
He nodded, smiling with a stammered breath, “Yeah, I said I’d come check if you were ready. Hotch and Dave are already there scoping out the bar,”
She simpered under the weight of his nervousness, “Well, I’m ready,” Holding out her left hand, she raised her ring finger, “Marry me, pretty boy,”
He snickered, shaking his head at her clear diversion from the stifling tension in the air, and held her hand in his delicately, his skin warm as it encompassed hers entirely, and he was careful to slip the false engagement ring over her digits, following it with a gold band of her own.
“You ready to get your ass kicked at miniature golf whilst our friends catch a criminal, Mr Reid?” She asked, and he had yet to let go of her hand as she shut the door behind her, slipping her hotel room key into her purse.
“That’s a bold statement from such a sore loser, Mrs Reid,” He said back, a smile so wide he thought he might burst a vessel as she laughed, and tightened her fingers around his, interlacing them just like she had done a handful of times before, and his chest crackled with white hot excitement when she knocked her shoulder into his side in affection.
His lips scorched with the words Mrs Reid the entire drive to the bar.
–
“Any eyes on him, yet?” Bugsy whispered to the women in the stalls, touching up her lipstick as JJ and Alex hid in the women’s bathroom for the signal.
“Not yet,” Blake said, sitting on the closed toilet seat in her kevlar and jacket, all but twiddling her thumbs and wishing she’d brought a sudoku, “Are you guys having fun at least?”
“Pretending to be married to my best friend while a serial killer eyes up my guts for the taking; yeah I’m peachy,” Bugsy replied, rubbing her lips together and making sure her gun was still strapped tight to her hip, “Besides, he really is kicking my ass at golf,”
“He’s going to let you win anyway, you know that right?” JJ said, tucking her feet up onto the seat in her own stall in case anyone who wasn’t on their team came in to the bathroom, “He always lets you win because he knows it makes you happy,”
Bugsy paused, the tissue that was collecting rogue lipstick smudges from her face almost falling in the sink, and she was quick to gather her voice with a clear of her throat.
“Maybe I just win because I’m good, Jennifer,” She said, a lilt of teasing in her tone, binning the scrap tissue paper and heading for the door, “Keep an eye out, kiddos. I’m going back in,”
They chirped a goodbye, the two of them sighing as they waited for Hotch’s message, and Bugsy walked back out to where Spencer was waiting by Hole Seven. It was a classic windmill on top of a hill, a small tunnel where the door was supposed to be leading to a lower level behind the plastic decor, where the hole lay waiting for them.
“You ready, honey?” He said, holding out a purple putter they’d chosen at the start of the course, and she smiled genuinely at him. She had been telling somewhat of a lie when she’d been so unenthusiastic in the bathroom, though she thought telling the women just how much fun she was having being married to Spencer might just rub salt in the wound considering they were bored stiff sat in the bathroom.
That and she wanted to keep whatever it was they were feeling theirs and only theirs for just a little bit longer.
“Ready, my love,” She sang in response and let him go first. He had to lean over a fair bit seeing as he was so tall he made everything on the course look particularly miniature, including the putter that seemed dwarfed by his height. Taking a quick look at the hill, no doubt calculating the angle and force he would need to hit it with, he gave the little, pink golf ball a generous tap and it raced up the slope, straight into the tunnel. They heard it knocking around a little in the chamber, before it came careering out the other end and rolled no closer than a yard away from the hole.
Bugsy looked at him with wide eyes, to which he pretended not to look almost arrogant with how easy he’d made it seem, only when he looked back at her with a shit eating grin, she knew exactly how pleased with himself he was.
“I bet it’s not that difficult, it’s all just a matter of force and drag and whatnot, right?” She said, strolling up to place her lilac ball on the inky dot marking the start.
“Totally, although this is where, I don’t know, say a degree in Engineering would come in useful, I bet,” Spencer chimed in, and she didn’t need to look at him to know he had that smirk on his face.
“Mr Reid, get ready to eat your words,” She replied over her shoulder, smacking the ball hard enough it flew up the slope, bouncing off the wall of the windmill and racing all the way back down the hill, rolling right back to where they stood, Spencer hiding a laugh behind his hand. She gaped, her face hot with annoyance, “Wait, wait! That was a practice run, I get another go,”
“Practice run, I see,” Spencer said with a chuckle, shoving his hands in his pockets, and watching her scramble to set the ball back on the marker, “So out of interest, how many of these practice runs are you getting,”
“Just the one,” She said, hitting the plastic globe again, though this time it barely made it half way up the incline before it rolled right back down again, “Two, I get two. This one’s the real one, starting now,”
“The real one? So this one’s really the one that counts, right?” He teased, and she glared at him over her shoulder. He stepped closer to her, a look of the cat that got the cream smeared all across his face as he took a stance behind her, wrapping his arms around hers with the oldest trick in the book, “Why don’t you let your dearest husband help you out, huh?”
“I have a masters and half a degree in medicine, I think I know what I’m doing,” She hummed, though the feeling of his hands resting over hers soone quietened down whatever fire was stoked in her belly from losing their game. Spencer was so close she could feel him breathing down her neck, feel his chest on her shoulder blades, and worst and most heinous of all, feel his crotch pressing against her tailbone.
“Alright, alright. Just humour me,” He murmured, a new found confidence in him that he only seemed to get whenever they were playing the part of being other people. He gave her a salacious lick of his lips, smiling at her with a pink parted mouth, his eyes dark in this light like he knew what she was thinking as well, and he couldn’t help but think she looked so pretty when he flirted with her a little. He’d always thought that when she was stunned into that quiet tone, the mousy look she got on her face was rather cute.
His hands engulfed hers with a mesh of pornographic veins and sadistically handsome knuckles, his mouth at her ear as they lined up the shot together.
It was as if a murmuration of birds had flocked together in her chest, dipping and diving and creating all manner of shapes in her stomach as she felt it flip three or four times, his body so entirely pressed against hers she never wanted to move a muscle. She’d had the odd thought pop into her head about what sex with Spencer Reid might feel like, and yet all she could think about in the haze of the putter and fake grass beneath their feet was how delicious he felt pressing into her like that.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as she looked forward again, and she could have sworn she held back a moan when he breathed out down her spine.
“Hotch has eyes on a guy at the bar watching us,” He whispered, her back straightening as she was reminded with a slap to the face they were still working the case. That as much fun as they were having, as happy as they were supposed to seem, they still had a very real job to do, and she felt stupid for thinking the flirty glances and erotic embrace was for anything more than to sell the married couple act.
But Bugsy was nothing if not committed to her job. So instead of worrying if Spencer had felt anything real in the last hour or so, she decided to double down and give their UnSub a real show.
Sticking her ass out so she brushed against Spencer’s crotch more, she intertwined her fingers with his, and hit the dimpled sphere the direction he guided her; and sure enough it rolled straight into the tunnel with little qualms.
Spinning in his arms, the smile was nearly wiped off her face when she saw Spencer’s eyes had darkened to a rich espresso hue as he looked at her. But she hid it well, despite the fact she caught the way his pupils were blown wide, and simply leaned to kiss him smack dab on his cheek, a smirk on her face when she pulled away.
“I guess I just needed the correct motivation,” She said with a flirty undertone, and she revelled in the way his lips parted enough she saw the whites of his absurdly pretty teeth.
“Remind me to not take you out to mini golf for our first date,” Spencer huffed, his ears red as a mushroom top as they both stepped over to where the hole was and she snickered, trying her best to ignore the wings hammering away at her ribcage when he said that.
“Duly noted, Mr Reid,” She said, watching him lineup his next shot with a smirk, and she wondered just where exactly they would go on their first date. Her smile only got wider, a girlish glee to her eyes. “So, theoretically, where were you thinking of taking me?”
“Theoretically,” He said, lining up his shot, the ball only a small tap away from the hole, his feet spreading a little wider so he could lean down to putt the pink sphere, “I was thinking of going to that book cafe out in Delaware, the one where they have a bunch of drinks inspired by different authors. We could play a game I used to with my mom, where we choose a book for each other we think the other would like,” He took the shot, his ball rolling into the cavity without much effort as she watched him meticulously, her entire body softening with his sentiment right down to her marrow, “And then I was going to say we build a sofa fort in the living room and watch whatever movie you like, maybe get some popcorn on the way home,”
He looked up at her, and almost reeled back in surprise to see her looking at him with something so vastly emotional in her eyes, like he’d offered her a winning lottery ticket or a chance to go back in time in a flying police box, her expression a complete window into her soul because she’d never been too good at hiding how she felt when she was around him.
Spencer opened his mouth to speak again, only for their earpieces to jump to life, Hotch’s voice out of breath as he reported down their ear.
“We have the UnSub, we caught him trying to sneak into your car like we profiled.” He said, and she knew his brow was creased without even having to see his face, “We’re taking him in for questioning now, you kids wrap up and head to the station,”
Bugsy hummed in confirmation, fighting the disappointment that their show was over, and they’d have to go back to their usual act of pretending there wasn’t three little words hanging over both their heads, gnawing at the back of their brains.
Clearing her throat, she set up her shot ready to finish their game, “Well, theoretically speaking, when you’re ready to ask me on that date, I’m there,”
He smiled to himself, perhaps ready to flirt with her just a little more before they went back to being Bugsy and Spence, not Mr and Mrs Reid, when she hit the golf ball just the tiniest bit too vigorously. It rolled straight past the hole, bouncing off the wall and heading further away from the end than when she’d started, and she groaned in frustration.
“How are you so terrible at this-” Spencer burst out laughing as she stomped over to the lilac ball, lining up another shot with a grumpy expression.
“Not another word, Lover boy,”
2. The one with an old flame.
“I wonder what Hotch wants,” She mused, her head resting on the arm of the seat, her eyes shut for the duration of the flight. Rossi had called them into the office startlingly early for a Friday, the entire team sleepy eyed and annoyed as they’d strolled onto the sixth floor.
Yet the minute that they’d heard Hotch needed them, they’d soon perked up in interest, seeing as it was Aaron’s only appointed week off to see Beth in New York, and they had quickly jumped in to help with whatever it was he needed.
“Penelope’s still waiting for NYPD to send her the autopsy reports for the previous victims,” Rossi said, him, Strauss, JJ and Alex playing a few rounds of Shithead with a peeling deck of cards because for once they had no paperwork to be looking over while they travelled. Bugsy had laid on the couch, the one Spencer usually commandeered, except this time he let her take the comfy seat, instead letting her legs drape over his lap as he read from his book, another two sat next to him for when he finished that one.
“He sounded panicked. DEA thinks we might have a bad batch of something making its way through the club scene causing the deaths,” Strauss added, putting down two sets of three on top of JJ’s ace, “Aaron’s brother just happened to have been caught in the crossfire,”
“Men are almost twice as likely to die from drug overdoses than women, just last year there were forty-one thousand, five hundred and two cases.” Spencer said without lifting his head from his pages, his thumb caressing over Bugsy’s ankle bone, “The fact that the majority of the victims are women suggests it’s more than likely is a date rape drug that has been laced since they tend to be targeted towards female victims more often than males.”
“Ecstasy can be made in pill, powder or liquid form so it really wouldn’t be too difficult to slip it into someone’s drink,” The girl mused, her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she attempted to catch up on another half hour of sleep, “Or to convince people the drug they’re taking willingly is safe,”
“Even regular users might not know they're being dosed until it's too late,” JJ agreed, setting down a seven on top of Rossi’s two fives.
“What about the two victims who were clean, Linda Heying and Eric Sullivan’s family claimed they never touched the stuff,” Alex questioned, as Morgan looked over the list of victims that they had been able to track down, despite the majority of the information waiting for them at New York.
“Either the victims are good at hiding the truth or the UnSub is killing for another reason,” David said with a sigh, as Strauss set down the six of clubs, “We should take a closer look, see how they’re connected,”
“Well for now, let the princess get her beauty sleep,” Bugsy said, snuggling into the throw pillow Spencer had passed her as they’d sat down, “I’m feeling weird today,”
His head ripped from his book at that, the rest of the team going back to playing their cards, his hand skirting up to her calf to stroke her leg gently, “You okay?”
She huffed, “Yeah, Penelope said it's because my Mercury is in Retrograde or something, I don’t know. I just feel strange,” She grumbled, resting a hand over her stomach, “Probably just coming on my period early,”
He frowned, moving her legs off his lap and standing up. Before she could ask where he was going, he stepped to the opposite end of the couch, picking her head up gently by the crook of her neck and sitting back down, resting her back onto his lap.
His fingers were in her hair before she could say anything, scratching gently at her scalp the way he knew she turned to putty for, and she smiled, swearing blind she’d be purring if she could.
“We’ll get you some breakfast when we land,” He murmured, and she snuggled her cheek into his thigh, his slender fingers massaging her skin kindly.
“Thankyou, Spence,” She whispered back, all but slurring her words as sleep caught right back up to her, and before long she was drooling on his black trousers, the sight of it making him smile sweetly to himself.
And it was for a moment like that he wondered what exact feeling he was waiting for in the first place.
–
“Any updates?” Bugsy asked, as they entered the New York Police Department and saw Hotch waiting for them, his arms crossed in a casual shirt and jeans, clearly having had no intention of working this week, “How’s your brother?”
“A little shaken but then he never exactly made the best choices in life,” Hotch huffed, putting a hand on her back as she leaned in to give him a small hug because he seemed particularly stressed, “Emily always said you were bad, I’d take you over him any day,”
“Thanks,” She murmured into his shoulder, with a frown, “I think?”
He smiled, amused the way she had a knack for, though the worry in his mahogany eyes didn’t budge, and Spencer was all but a step behind her as the team filed into the building.
“You guys have coffee?” Spencer asked, his eyes subconsciously trailing after Bugsy as she moved to talk to one of the detectives, and Hotch nodded, pointing him over to the small kitchenette at the back of the precinct.
“Over there, I’ll get you guys set up with the lab reports now that you’re here. Autopsies came back for Linda and Eric,” Hotch said, and Spencer murmured in agreement, heading straight for the instant coffee and creamer, worrying about the girl who was already nose deep in a file by the time the machine had poured the first cup.
He wondered whether there were any pharmacies nearby for anti-sickness tablets, or if she needed a heavy dose of water and sleep instead of the caffeine goodness he was whipping up for her, but then he knew she’d rather shrivell into a ball in the precinct bathroom than ask for a day off, would rather suffer in proud silence than make herself look weak.
Bugsy remembered it happening in choppy intervals. One minute she was heading up the steps towards where Spencer stood patiently by the coffee machine, something already popping up as a point of interest in her overworked brain. Her head was down, muttering to herself the points of the victimology that conflicted with one another, when she felt herself slam right into a solid body, and she jumped back, steadying herself with an embarrassed expression.
“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” Her eyes snapped up to see a messy blonde sweep of hair, wide blue eyes she’d known ten years ago and a thick beard that happened to be the only thing new about him. Her gaze locked onto him, and she felt a fury she’d not thought about in over a decade rile up inside her, “Sean?”
“Bugsy,” He breathed, the horror sweeping over his expression, a hand shooting up to slick his hair back nervously, “What are you- how are you-”
She shoved him back with two firm hands, tossing the file onto the table beside her, and shoving at his chest again, his own hands coming up to defend himself lightly even though his expression read nothing but guilt.
“Woah, woah, let’s just talk about this, I was just a dumb kid-”
“You left me, Sean. You left me in a foreign country alone with no boarding pass, no cell phone,” She snarled, and the sound of her tone rising turned a few heads, Spencer all but ditching the spoon into the sink when he saw her going nose to nose with some guy who looked purely terrified, “Your dumbass friends spent all my money on hookers, I’d still be in Italy if it wasn’t for the fact you graciously decided not to steal my bank card-”
She shoved him again in between her growls, and it wasn’t until two hands came up to stop her did she realise Derek and Spencer had all but appeared behind her, the former’s arms wrapping around her waist to draw her back.
“Woah, woah, talk to me, pretty girl. What’s with the aggression?” Derek asked, his eyes wide with concern as he looked between the youngest agent and their suspect. It seemed her volume had reached the other side of the room where Hotch had been talking with Strauss and Alex, and Spencer could practically see the steam coming out his ears as he whipped around to their trio.
He could already hear the lecture coming, and the thought of it made him gulp.
“This is Sean,” She spat, and Derek and Spencer’s head snapped to the blonde man who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, “You know, the asshole that ditched me on another continent and stole my money,”
“I didn’t mean to steal your money, I thought you had it in your purse, I-I didn’t think to check before we left the hotel room,” He tried to interject, though the girl's glare intensified, unaware her boss's shoes were now thundering across the steps.
“Where you left me to miss the flight I paid for, you inconsiderate prick-”
“You told me to leave you alone! You said you were sick of us waking you up-”
“I meant playing your music too loud, dumbass-”
“Well sorry, last time I checked I’m not a mind reader, Bugsy-”
“What in God’s name is going on here?” Hotch’s voice was a crack of lightning through the precinct, and the two of them shut up immediately, like two school children caught squabbling in the halls, Sean turning to his older brother with an exasperated expression.
“Aaron, I swear, I don’t know what she’s doing here,” Sean pleaded, and Derek, Spencer and Bugsy turned to their boss in unison with bewildered faces. Hotch looked back at them, his own anger dissolving into utter, raw confusion.
“Do you two know each other?” Hotch, Aaron, asked the girl in the middle, the other men all but positioned as bodyguards in the midst of their little spat, and he saw her cheeks hot with anger deflating as she drew a breath to answer.
“Unfortunately,” She spat, scrutinising the familiar tone Sean had used when he’d said Aaron’s name, “Do you two know each other?”
“He’s my brother,” The Hotchner’s replied in unison, their tone almost identical and she felt stupid for not seeing it sooner.
Bugsy felt her face drop, her eyes scanning between them for any signs of a lie, except all she found were the tiny details of their face that seemed to half match. Like their cheekbones, and the crease between their brows, the shape of their lips.
Her face blanked, gobsmacked silence passing between the five of them as she digested exactly what that statement ment.
Sean, her Sean, the Sean she’d been sleeping with on and off for six months straight, who used to make her tea way too milky and without sugar the way she hated it, but would bring it to her in bed and stroke her back when they were finished, the Sean who once tried to ask her to be his girlfriend when he was stoned and she’d laughed at him and snatched the blunt away, told him to get a hold of himself because that was the exact opposite of how friends with benefits worked.
Sean, who she had trusted to keep her safe, who’d ditched her naked in a hotel room in a foreign country and made her feel stupid for ever believing a word a man said.
She stuttered for a response, a wide eyes mix of terror and confusion and repulsion washing over her in stages.
“I need-” She swallowed thickly, her mouth drier than sandpaper, gently pushing Derek’s arm from around her waist, “I think I need a walk- a walk sounds good- yeah-”
Rossi paced over to the five of them, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. He almost paused at the wall of awkward tension around the group, each participant seeming stuck for the right thing to say, the entire situation so bizarre that Spencer debated faking a migraine to get him and her out of the room for some air.
“Hotch,” Both of the men turned to look at him, and the sight of it made Bugsy shudder, feeling almost completely out of her own body at the thought of her nude body on top of Sean’s because now all she could see was Aaron in his place, “Six new bodies found in a nightclub-”
“I’ll go!” She jumped, all but bolting past the men, trying her hardest not to touch either of them because her skin crawled with a sickening uncanny valley looking between the brothers, “I’ll go inspect the crime scene,”
And no one stopped her, because they’d seen her be all manner of strange before, but never quite like that. Aaron nodded his head to Morgan, and the man took it as a sign to follow her. He quickly obeyed, hot on the girl's heels as she kept her head down with an odd, freaked out expression on her face like she was about to throw up and scream at the same time.
Which left Sean alone as Spencer and Aaron whirled around on him, similar looks of annoyance on their face as the younger agent looked the man head to toe.
He was handsome, handsome in a rugged way like he was used to bar fights and late nights and drinking until three am with pretty ladies like her. He was built wide like Aaron, his shoulders broad and muscles stocky, a few tattoos dotted around his arms that only added to his rough looking appeal, and Spencer wondered if she’d always liked the bad boys, wondered if he was an outlier in her dating history.
Except they weren’t dating, not yet at least.
“So I take it she’s one of your agents,” Sean said, wringing his hands together in anxiety as the two taller men looked down at him, equally unimpressed.
Though, Spencer hated to admit, his was more green faced jealousy than anything else.
“Agent Prentiss is one of the best,” Reid corrected, his tone cold and stern, and Sean visibly shrunk in on himself, looking to his big brother for help, only he found Aaron was just as annoyed, glaring down at him.
“You have some more explaining to do, Sean,” His brother snapped, and the two men diverted him into one of the interrogation rooms, Spencer’s jaw clenched so hard he felt his temples ache, “Or next time I’m not stopping her from handing your ass to you, and believe me when I say you’ll wish you’d told me sooner,”
Sean gulped, all too aware of the way eighteen year old Bugsy had never backed down from a fight, when men twice her age shoved her in clubs or girls bitched at her for dancing too close to their boyfriends. He didn’t imagine she was any different at twenty eight, except this time she was trained and licensed to handle a gun.
The door slammed behind them, and Aaron pushed his little brother into the seat with a firm hand, the sight of his unit chief just as protective over her as he was making Spencer bite back glee. The image of Bugsy laying into the guy was burned into his memory, eidetic or not, and it seemed to be the only thing that stopped him blowing his top as Sean opened his mouth to explain what had happened between him and the younger Prentiss woman.
–
“What did you do, Thane?” Sean’s voice crackled over the feed, the wire on his chest brushing against his shirt as he paced in the wine cellar. Aaron, Morgan, Spencer and Bugsy sat in the van, listening to the conversation through shared headphones, Spencer and Bugsy’s heads pressed together as they followed the voices as best as they could, waiting for a confession or anything they could tie to the victims' gory deaths.
“I spiked the wine, you idiot,” Sean’s boss, Thane, snapped, his breathing laboured and Bugsy took a shot in the dark to say he was pacing, worrying now that there was concrete evidence linking his date rape drug to the deaths of atleast nine people so far, “Oh, God. Oh, god, Jim is going to kill me.”
“Why the hell would you do that?” Sean seethed, his patience wearing thin as the man all but confessed to killing his girlfriend.
“For a laugh, I thought it was X. Girl’s love that crap,” Thane replied, his voice louder as Sean stepped closer to him, and she exchanged a look with Aaron.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t X, was it?” The younger Hotchner barked, and she quickly let go of the headphones to grab a kevlar and her gun.
“He’s going off track, Aaron, he’d not going to keep his cool much longer,” She said, and Spencer’s eyes trailed up to her face, her brow furrowed as Aaron moved to slip his own bulletproof over his head, adjusting the straps at his side.
“Tell SWAT to stand by, we’re going in to support, but we may need back up,” Aaron ordered, unholstering his gun and switching the trigger off safety, “You two stay here and see if Thane says any more about the wine,”
She drew her gun to her side just as he did, and Spencer made a move to stop her, even just to check where her head was at because he knew she had this tendency of throwing herself in harms way and asking questions later. He selfishly worried what that upset look in her eyes meant, like she loathed that Sean was in danger as much as she loathed him.
But he wasn’t quite fast enough, because by the time he’d reached a hand out for hers to ask if she was feeling alright, she had slid the door to the van open, hopping out onto the tarmac as Aaron shadowed her.
And something ugly and envious reared its head in Spencer’s gut as the doors slammed, so much so that his jaw feathered and he took a deep breath out, his lips pressing into a thin line.
The two agents moved as one, their footsteps pounding over the linoleum floor of the night club. They swept to the back of the building, where the door to the stock room was, and it became apparent almost immediately from the grunting and shuffling the other side of the door that the two men were much closer to brawling than they’d guessed.
“FBI, drop your weapon!” Bugsy called, bracing herself as she felt Aaron’s domineering figure at her shoulder. She raised her leg to kick the door in, and it swung on its hinges, smacking into the rack of beer. They caught the two men in the middle of a fist fight, Sean with a split lip, Thane with a gash on his forehead, his head locked under the younger man’s arm with a deathly grip.
She holstered her gun, seeing that neither of them were carrying, and moved forward to break the two of them up.
“Alright, Sean- Sean, that’s enough,” She scolded, her fingers prying his muscled arm off his boss’s trachea, and Sean took a second to realise it was disappointment in her face, not the white hot anger it had been not even a few hours before, before he let the man go, some colour returning to his bluing lips.
“He killed Linda,” The blonde Hotchner said softly, and something wavered in her eyes, something close to pity, and she nodded at him while biting her cheek hard. Aaron holstered his gun, surging forward to grab Thane with rough hands as he fought against the taller man’s grip. “She was sober, she’d gotten clean and he killed her,”
“I know,” Bugsy said lamentingly, and against her better judgement she patted his shoulder kindly, more kindly than he probably deserved, and the thought of it made Sean’s baby blue eyes turn away in sorrow.
Before she could say anything else, Thane wretched his hand out of Hotch’s grip, grabbing for the sharp box cutter and lunging right for Bugsy where she turned away from him.
Sean’s expression morphed into fear for a moment, grabbing for her to yank her out of reach, but it was too late. She felt the slash across the back of her arm, where her kevlar couldn’t cover up, and she yawped in pain the way a dog sounds when its tail gets crushed. Turning towards the source of the danger, Sean’s hand weaved around her waist to tug her backwards as Aaron scrambled to grab the suspect.
Thane’s hand gripped the blade and slashed down again, across her cheek and only inches away from her eye, her hands too late to grab his wrists to stop his advances. By the time he drew back to swipe for her again Aaron had already tackled him to the ground, pinning him to the wine soaked floor and fumbling for his cuffs.
“We have an agent injured and needing medical, repeat, medical unit required on scene,” Spencer was out of his seat before Hotch could even finish his sentence, forgoing his own vest as he darted from the van, his heart racing at the sound of the scuffle echoing through Sean’s wire, and he felt his chest seizing at just what kind of a state she’d be in when he saw her.
She was the only other agent on the scene. That call had to be made for her, the voice in his gut told him, but the twisted part of him hoped that it was someone else, anyone else, that had gotten hurt, because he might just throw a punch of his own at Thane or Sean or maybe even both of them if she had so much as a single hair misplaced.
Spencer had only just about reached the bar area when the four of them emerged from the stock room, Thane in cuffs, looking rattled and aggravated. Spencer let himself take a long, hard look at the man with a glare that soon made him cower away, though he found little luck elsewhere as Hotch’s hands gripped him so tight Spencer thought he might be trying to strangle him through his arms.
But that wasn’t who he was looking for. And there, trailing behind his unit chief sheepishly, with Sean’s hand on her back as he watched her carefully, his eyes worriedly darting over her skin when he saw how fast the blood was pouring from the laceration on the apple of her cheek, was Bugsy. Her expression was shaken, no doubt from nearly having her corneas slashed open had Sean not pulled her away even a second earlier, and she seemed in some sort of a daze, until she spotted the sweater vest she’d shoved in the wash about a hundred times, and two supple hands reached for her shoulders, snapping her attention out of her head.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, all but ignoring Sean as the man went to flag down medical, his own appearance dishevelled and stunned, and it irked Spencer something childish when her head snapped to the blonde, watching him head for the paramedics.
“I’m okay, Spence, it’s just a superficial wound,” She said as a reflex, meeting his eyes finally. But she simpered when she saw just how terrified he seemed, a warm palm raising to cup his face affectionately, “He just nicked the skin, that’s all. It’s not as bad as it looks,”
Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Her face stung like a bitch, but the feeling of her cheek dribbling with the ichor was worse than the actual pain, and made her feel queasy more than anything.
He went to say something else, or perhaps even gently caress the clean side of her face with his own loving gesture, but he was quickly interrupted by the medical team all but grabbing Bugsy out of his grip and assessing her themselves.
“It’s probably best if you come take a seat, Agent Prentiss,” The woman said, pointing to where Sean sat on the back of the ambulance getting his nose checked over, “We’ll be over with some stitches and glue,”
And Spencer made a move to follow the two of them, only to be stopped by Hotch, who called his name with that direct tone he took when he was worried.
“Reid, I need you and Morgan to interview Thane about where he got the drugs he used to spike the wine,” Aaron ordered, even though he seemed to watch the girl go just as bothered as the younger agent, and Spencer seemed conflicted between rebelling against his boss’s instructions or keeping to his track record of following them to a tea.
He paused for a second, his gaze flicking to the girl who sat with her old flame, Sean’s eyes roving over her head to toe worriedly, and he looked back to Aaron, “But-”
“Now, Reid. She’s going to be fine.”
And Spencer was forced to listen, even if his face burned with annoyance at the sight of the man watching her so tentatively.
–
“Would you quit fidgeting, the medic said it was a surface wound,” Bugsy snipped, feeling the ocean hues burning a hole into the side of her head. She dusted her knees off of invisible dirt, braving a look up at her ex-fling where she was met with a wall of guilt.
And it was like for a split second she remembered all the mornings she’d wake up to him twirling the tips of her hair between his fingers, or when he’d shake his head whenever he’d look over her shoulder at her lab reports she’d be writing and make a passing comment on how a hot girl like her could have brains and looks.
Or how he could be kind to her, genuinely sweet when he wanted to be, when they toed a weird line between friends with benefits and something a little more, because at his core she knew he was a good guy, he was just incredibly dumb for an eighteen year old.
“Listen, Bug,” Sean sighed, looking down at the ground where they were perched on the back on the ambulance, Bugsy’s face stitched up so tight she hoped it wouldn’t scar very deeply, “I really am sorry for how I treated you,”
His voice shook with something remorseful, and she let her eyes cast over his face that had grown even more handsome in the ten years since she saw him. With the good memories came the bad ones in equal measure, and the arguments over stupid shit like leaving cupboard doors open and playing music late at night and the time he forgot to feed her gerbil for two days when she was out of town washed back to shore from the deepest crevices of her mind.
She’d been with men after him, had flings and meaningless kisses with boys who’d treated her much less kindly than he had. And when she thought about it, the anger and resentment she’d felt when she thought about those few days she spent lost in Italy stemmed from the fact she’d been forced to confront what she’d always feared since she was little.
That Bugsy was alone in the world, forgettable, someone you could leave behind and sleep soundly.
But when she thought of that now, the first face she pictured was Spencer, and how he would tell her to knock it off if she ever said that out loud, because he would never leave her, in a foreign country or even at a gas station if she needed to get fuel. He always walked up to the pump with her because he knew exactly how many women got kidnapped in places like that every year, he'd told her so already.
And she knew the person she was when she could have loved Sean, the person who was reminded just how easy it was to leave her behind, was gone. In its place was the girl who Spencer loved like it was as easy as breathing. And the thought of it made her feel just that little bit less bitter towards the blonde man who fiddled with his rough, bloodied hands.
“I was a dumb kid, I did a lot of things that I’m not proud of,” He swallowed heavily, his frown looking strikingly similar to Aaron's as he did, but she would never remind him, “But I did always wonder whether I’d see your name in the news curing some disease I could never pronounce or being the first person to learn like every single language there is,” He smiled sadly, and the old her knew him just well enough to know he was being honest, because his nose turned red whenever he lied.
The thought of it made her lips curve up, despite how annoyed she’d been to see him again, and there was something bashful about the way the slid a hand into his to give it a quick squeeze.
“We were eighteen, Sean. No one has themselves figured out at eighteen,” She said earnestly, her head dipping to meet his ashamed gaze.
He shook his head, “You deserved so much better than I could ever give you, we both knew that,” He pulled his hand away, and her expression contorted into confusion, “It’s probably why you're with that doctor, right? Aaron said he’s like a whizz kid,”
“He’s not-We’re-” She sighed, running a hand over where the EMTs had stitched the gash on the back of her arm, “It’s complicated,”
“Complicated like we were complicated?” He asked, her fingertip tracing every single nook where they had looped the suture through her skin.
She smiled to herself and looked over at him, something weighty like closure passing between the two of him as he watched her take his tired face in, knowing they were nothing more than just passing ships in the night now.
“You meant something to me once, Sean, no matter how much we drove each other up the wall,” She snickered, and something like an exhausted chuckle matched her, “But it’s different with him. It’s like everything I do means something to the world when I’m with him, you know?”
Sean took in the wistful look in her eyes, the girl he’d known who had only gotten stronger, scrappier, wittier with age, and he thought he’d be lucky to ever get someone like her again.
“I hope I do,” He said, and she knocked her shoulder into his to dispel the bad memories of two teenagers figuring out what feelings and kisses and sex meant in the messiest of ways.
“Do me a favour?” Sean hummed at her, and she looked surprisingly like herself again when she smiled at him wryly, “Call Aaron more. It’s difficult being the only disappointment child in his life,”
Sean barked a laugh at her words, and she smiled into her lap. Who’d have thought closure would be so healing.
–
She felt eyes on her even as she tried to nap on the jet, having returned back to their original position on the couch, her head on Spencer’s lap. She had a sixth sense to who it would be, the Spider Sense they’d been calling it despite the fact Spencer tried to tell her it was mere intuition, she glanced up to where something melancholic swirled inside his forest gaze, already watching over her despite his book being open in his lap.
She hadn’t even opened her mouth to speak before his obscenely large hand had sneaked under her jawline, tilting her face up so he could take a better look at the messy cut.
“Have they given you anything for the pain?” Spencer said quietly, because the other’s were already trying to sleep, and she blanked for a moment, before her hand came up to snake around his wrist gently.
“They gave me Naproxen for two days. Spence, I’m fine, really,”
His teeth ground together, his other hand placing his book down beside him and moving to smooth the back of her hair, the sealed wound staring daggers at him as his eyes darted over the rest of her face, just to be sure they hadn’t missed anything.
He nodded to himself, as if to conclude his consultation and his thumb stroked down the curve of her jaw, his head whipping up to quickly make sure no one else was watching.
“What, uh,” Spencer cleared his throat nervously, her expectant eyes looking up at him, “What were you and Sean talking about?”
Her brow quirked in confusion, and it wasn’t until she felt his delicate strokes hesitate that she realised he seemed on edge, “Why?”
“N-No reason, I just was wondering, you looked like you were-” He coughed again, even though there was nothing tickling his windpipe, nothing except embarrassment, because he’d never thought he’d be the envious type.
He braved a look at her again, worried she would be annoyed with his crass and intrusive questions, only to see her smiling at him wickedly.
“We were what?” She asked, and Spencer went so quiet he could have heard a mouse knitting if he tried, his cheeks flushing with raspberry red heat, “Are you jealous, Spencer?”
He shook his head fast, unable to formulate anything that wasn’t a stammer, and she sat up in her seat, throwing her legs onto the ground so she could scooch up into his side.
“Because if you were, you know I’d find that wildly attractive right?” She murmured, his cheeks burning an even hotter shade, the sight of it all but a bone to a hound to Bugsy who loved teasing him. She snickered, leaning in close to his vermillion ear, and leaving a tiny kiss on his clenched jaw, “Don’t worry, Wonder Boy. He knows I’m all yours,”
3. The one with the day of the dead.
“Thankyou, thankyou, my helpful little mice,” Penelope chirped as the three of them stepped into her apartment, their arms filled with shopping bags, “Set them down on the counter, I’ll unpack them later,”
“Wow,” Bugsy gawped at the altar stood in the corner of the woman’s living room, an assortment of sweets and tissue paper flowers decorating the layers, “Oh it’s so pretty, they’re going to love it. We spent a Summer in Mexico when Mom was having talks with their President, but we moved out before October rolled around so I never got to see a Día de los Muertos,”
Penny smiled, though she quickly looked around the rest of her apartment that had yet to be decorated, “There’s still a lot to do before the party next week and,” She huffed, the bags taking up the entirety of her kitchen table as Bugsy frowned at her, “I’m scared. I’ve never had the whole team here before,”
“Relax, Pen, I can help you set up,” The younger woman reassured, helping unload the groceries that needed to go in the fridge as Spencer helped her carry the larger items.
Penelope perked up watching her guests move towards the cooler, a devilish smirk twitching at her lips, “Hey, while you guys are there, can you see if I have enough hot sauce for the party?”
“Sure,” They replied in synchrony, Bugsy putting the milk and soda in the side drawers as Spencer shelved away some of the meat. They both looked at the top row, where some kind of jalapeno salsa was resting next to a jar of fake eyeballs, and the flicked a casual glance at the woman who was pouring vials of red viscous liquid made to look like blood down her cheeks for a Penelope version of a practical joke.
Bugsy blinked once, not quite surprised as she would have thought seeing Penelope attempting to scare them with something they’d seen a thousand times over for real.
“Now, are the eyeballs marinating in anything spicy or is it just like a pickled onion type of thing because all you seem to have is the jalapeno sauce,” She said, and Penelope deflated at her bored tone, looking at the two agents in discontent.
“You guys didn’t even flinch,” She said sadly, her dark eyes flicking between them, “My poor babies, what has the world done to you?”
Bugsy smiled, shutting the fridge door and handing the bubbly woman a leaf of tissue paper.
“JJ’s right, I told her I wanted to go scary this Halloween and she just laughed at me, and said that I don’t have a scary side,” Penelope whined, and Bugsy giggled.
“Sorry, babygirl, you wouldn’t be Penelope Garcia if you were capable of scary,” She teased, waltzing around the kitchen to put away the rest of the shopping, even as the woman tried to shoo her away from helping, “I’ve seen puppies scarier than you, Pen,”
“If it helps, you probably do,” Spencer interjected, helping Bugsy shelve something on one of the higher cabinets, his long arms weaselling over her own as he reached past her, “The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied and multi-faceted. It’s essential to one’s mental health to want to express these hidden personalities and it’s just a fact of nature that everybody has one,”
“Everybody?” Penelope asked, ignoring the way the two of them bumbled around her kitchen, handing things between one another the way she imagined them putting away the groceries in their own kitchen, like they worked just as well in the home as they did in the field. Dare she say it, like a couple who had been married and knew each other's routines for years. “Even the two of you?”
“Oh, absolutely, yeah,” Spencer agreed, and Bugsy flicked a smirk up at him as Pen turned to her expectantly.
"I mean, you can't tell me Bitch-Slapping our boss or fist fighting with my sister was exactly usual behaviour for me," She pointed out, and the two of them nodded in agreement, although they wouldn't have exactly called it out of character for her.
“Okay, okay, I want to see it. I want to see Dr Spencer Reid’s hidden personality,” Penelope said, a smile growing as thick and fast as a weed when he seemed thrown off by her request, and it only took one look at the younger Prentiss to know she wanted front row just as badly.
“R-right here? Like right now you want to see it?” He stammered, all too aware of Bugsy’s amused lashes batting up at him, the innocent expression she knew made it difficult for him to say no to, and he wondered for a second if she understood the exact amount of control she had over him when she wanted to.
“I wanna see this hidden personality, pretty boy,” She smiled with her teeth, and he felt his hands turn jittery in embarrassment.
“Okay, alright,” Spencer shook his arms out, clearing his throat with a growling sort of husk that made her raise her brows, and in a single blink he’d locked stern eyes with her, pointing to her with a completely un-Spencer-like stance; completely rose to his full height, confident and domineering, “I know what you’re thinking,”
She really hoped he didn’t. Because what she was really thinking was just how hot he sounded with that deep sort of timbre, that cocksure attitude.
“You’re thinking ‘Did that guy just fire five shots or did that guy just fire six shots?’” He went on, his tone deadly serious, as her lips parted in surprise, and what had started out as a game turned into some wildly lewd thoughts fast, “You’re going to have to ask yourself a question; Do you feel lucky, pun-k,”
She swallowed haughtily, as he squeezed his eyes shut and when he looked at her again he was entirely puppy like the way he usually looked, none the wiser to the way her stomach had coiled in want.
“That was Clint Eastwood from Dirty Harry,” He explained, looking to Penelope because he had no idea what that strange look on Bugsy’s face was, only to see his techy friend just as in awe, “I mean I know it’s not as effective as my dominant personality, but I really think it’s there-”
Penelope’s phone sprung to life with a call from Hotch and she quickly spluttered an excuse that they needed to leave right away, grabbing for her keys and heading for the door.
Spencer made a move to follow her, only to feel a hand grab his shirt and turn him right back around, Bugsy still staring at him with that look in her eye, like she’d had too much caffeine or been told there was a million dollars cash waiting for them at home.
“Is everything okay-”
“Is Clint Eastwood strictly a party trick or would I be able to have him on request, maybe?” She said, her hands oddly tight as they grabbed at his soft stomach, and it was like he heard the click in his brain when he realised what she meant.
“R-request, I guess,” He stumbled for composure, finding his footing when he felt her palms were clammy, “You got a thing for cops?”
“Just the one, I guess,” She said with a clenched jaw, and he laughed though it sounded more like a choke, as she darted right behind Penelope to avoid suspicion.
–
By the time the party rolled around, Penelope had decked her apartment out to the nines, marigolds and tissue garlands and lights and food of all sorts spread out across the altar, a mix of alcohol and juices available in pitchers, because Penelope was nothing if not a people pleaser.
The doorbell rang right as Alex and Bugsy poured themselves some margarita, complete with the eyeball ice cubes ofcourse, and Penelope fussed in her beautiful dress, muttering under her breath the way she did when she was nervous.
“What, what, what,” She murmured, her blonde curls bouncing with her steps as she reached for the door, “I thought you said you couldn’t come!”
Bugsy’s head whipped to the door, Aaron looking much more casual than they were used to seeing him as he entered the decorated home, his colleagues all dressed smartly and in some shade of black.
“Jack got a last minute sleepover invitation so I hope it’s okay,” He said, a bottle of rosé in his hand he’d brought as a contribution.
“Ofcourse, ofcourse,” Penelope sang, leading him over to the altar where everyone stood with their offerings, sipping on their glasses of liquor, “Okay, everybody, I guess it’s time to start, here you go sir,”
She handed him a freshly poured glass of wine, chilled courtesy of the eyeball, and Aaron thanked her kindly, taking a generous sip to catch up with the others.
“I want to thank everybody for doing this with me, and our altar’s burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here,” Penelope started with a grateful smile on her painted lips, a handful of old photos between her fingertips, “I will start, um, this is my mom and dad,” She said, nostalgia idling her tone as she gently placed down a worn picture of a teen couple holding a beautiful, blonde girl, eyes bigger than moons and full of curiosity, just how Bugsy would have imagined Penny as a baby, “I miss them. And this is my cat, Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He was a weird cat,”
The team chuckled, looking at the enormous ginger Tom that lapped at the bubbly liquid. Bugsy took a sip of her drink as JJ took a step forward with a smile, her own photo in hand.
“This is my sister, Roselyn. Ros.” JJ said, placing down a photo of a fifteen year old with identical eyes and nose to her, sitting it next to a small statue of the eiffel tower, “She always dreamed she’d live is Paris so um,” She swallowed, looking at her sister laying in the grass of their childhood home, something girlish in her gaze, “It didn’t happen but I thought this would bring her some happiness,”
They took it in turns bringing their offerings and pictures: David bringing some Cubs tickets for a soldier he had lost in Vietnam, Alex bringing a crossword for her mother, Spencer sliding down a picture of Maeve silently, alongside a cut out picture of Nikola Tesla, Morgan bringing his father, Hitch putting down the picture of Haley he kept in his wallet.
Which left them all to turn to the youngest agent, who seemed flustered.
“So, I fortunately have not lost anyone properly thus far, so bare with me here guys,” She said fishing out an old scrapbook photo of her as a seven year old, a small orange snake wrapped around the length of her arm, twenty two year old Emily standing right behind her, the pair of them with beaming smiles as the snake seemingly poked its tongue out for the camera.
Penelope clutched her chest in horror, “Is that a-”
“This is Tigger, the corn snake Emily gave to me when she left home,” She explained, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the million dollar grin she had in the photo, three of her front teeth missing sweetly, “I had him until I was about twelve before he kicked the serpent bucket, but he was cute for a slithery little guy,”
She drew another photo, an ultrasound showing two tiny embryos and she put it beside the picture of Tigger, and the group drew a shared breath.
“Bug, I never knew you were…” Spencer started, his stomach flipping when he saw the outline of the foetuses, only for the girl’s eyes to widen.
“No! No, it’s not like that, this is um,” She cleared her throat awkwardly, scratching the back of her hand with a guilty look, “This is the twin I absorbed in the womb,” She said, and she felt the rest of her team gawking at her without having to look, “I guess I’d like to say, uh, I’m sorry pal. It was nice while it lasted, I hope you can forgive me,”
“You’re being serious?” Morgan asked, gawping at the girl, right as Hotch broke out into disbelieving snickers, probably spurred on by the wine, and Alex was quick to join him, her hand over her mouth.
Bugsy turned to him with a ‘duh’ kind of look on her face, “Oh, 100% serious, yeah,”
“Is that why you’re a little…” Rossi started, only he found himself stuck for words when she looked at him betrayed.
“A little, what?” She asked, looking to JJ who cracked into a chuckle, putting her head in her palm.
“What he means is you have a big personality,” Alex said, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulder and giving her a motherly squeeze, hoping they hadn’t offended her, “And we wouldn’t change it for the world,”
“I should hope so, she got a double helping.” Morgan cackled, and Bugsy smacked his arm with a smile.
“Every time I think I know everything about you, you come out with something new,” Penelope said, her own snickering laugh meeting the girl’s ears, “You’re like Jason Bourne,”
“God help us if there had been two of you, Prentiss,” David added, patting the girl on the head as they laughed, and Penelope raised a toast to their altar, the rest of the team doing the same before they sipped out their cups and allowed themselves to enjoy the rest of the party.
–
“Oh, I have something for you!” Bugsy said, springing to her feet and almost tripping over Sergio who had curled up by her legs.
She’d cut herself off after her third, and by the time midnight rolled around she’d almost completely sobered up enough to the point her and Alex had been playing hangman except with only Old English words.
Her and Spencer had gotten home twenty minutes later, the two of them exhausted from an evening well spent, the melancholy happiness in the room draining them to the point Bugsy had immediately changed into her pyjamas when she got into the house.
Her pyjamas being Spencer’s boxers and one of his shirts since he’d inadvertently been hiding all of the underwear-top combinations she’d gotten from other flings that she’d brought when she moved into his.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” He said earnestly, and she simply waved his humble attitude off, the two of them sat on the sofa in their nightwear, flicking through the late night TV.
He smiled, watching her bustle into her room and root around her closet, before she emerged with a terracotta coloured pot of lilac flowers, whirling on her heel to head for him.
“What’s this?” Spencer asked, standing to meet her and Bugsy simpered, because she’d felt silly for buying them in the first place. Perhaps it was some left over guilt considering she’d spent the majority of Maeve’s existence in her life hating the girl, or atleast hating what she had that Bugsy thought she could never be privy to. Perhaps it was because all things considered she wanted Spencer to know that it was okay for him to mourn, because she’d never force him to hurry up his process when he’d been there for every second of hers.
She handed him the potted plant, the small purple petals in the shape of half moons lighting up at him, and his mind raced as to what species they were since he’d certainly never seen them around the East Coast before.
“Scaevola aemula,” She said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt around her waist as she spoke because his eyes were unnervingly doe-like when he looked at her in the dark lamp light, “It’s called the fairy fan flower. I thought-"
She paused, her expression morphing into embarrassment, "Wait, this is so stupid, I’ll send them back,” She shook her head, the worry overtaking the rational part of her as she grabbed for the pot to stash it back in her room, but he held it out of her reach, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body against his hip, as the other stretched out to keep her from snatching back the plant.
“Tell me. What?” He said, his lips stretching into a devious smile to see her so shy suddenly, and she buried her face into her hands as he watched her, “I'm not going to think it's stupid. Why did you get me these?”
“They’re not for you- well, they are, but I just thought,” She stumbled over her sentences, her heart thumping that this was entirely the wrong move, that she was poking at an open wound no matter how caring she was being. Clearing her throat, she let her forehead thump onto his shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she spoke, “I thought you could keep it so that you can think of Maeve every time you water it, since Maeve was the name of the fairy queen,”
He was quiet. God, why was he so quiet? Her breath was thick as molasses as they sat in the silence for a second. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when two of his fingers ran delicately beneath her chin, tilting her head up enough that he could see her face and she drew a sigh of relief when she saw he didn’t seem angry or hurt at all.
His eyes were soft as pools of honey as he looked at her, his brows stirring into a sad-happy mix.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” She whispered, their faces so close they were sharing breath, and he shook his head, his fingers never leaving her skin where they forced her to stay near, gave her no choice but to keep her looking at him. She didn’t think she could stop even if she wanted to. Everything pretty about him was dialled to a thousand whenever she got close, and his thick lashes blinked at her like he was seeing a mirage, a daydream.
“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, Bug,” Spencer murmured back to her, his every word fanning over the bridge of her nose, and she sighed in content, melting back into his side as he pulled her into a hug, his own face burying into the crook of her neck, “Thankyou,”
She smiled and hummed in happiness, wrapping her arms around his slender waist and drawing him so close she got a whiff of his shampoo.
“I have a bigger pot in my room, if you like, then we can keep it in the kitchen sill, away from the boys,” She offered, beaming at him when he stroked over the back of her hair affectionately. She hopped out of the embrace, “I’ll go get it for you-”
“You’ve done enough, Bug,” Spencer reminded, something grateful in his tone as she paused and waited for whatever he was going to say, “I’ll go get the pot, you go decide what movie we should watch,”
“You’re sure?” Bugsy asked, her brows furrowed as she checked for signs of an escape in his movements. But he just smiled back at her tiredly, the purple flowers his accomplice as she gave in and headed back towards the sofa, “It’s by my dresser, where my paper bin used to be,”
He set the gift on the kitchen table, the lilac hues brightening up the kitchen already like they just knew how touched Spencer felt to have received them, like there really was some kind of fairy magic burrowed into the soil as they watched the two of them dance around one another, heading to opposite ends of the apartment with lingering glances and bashful smiles.
Spencer thought his chest couldn’t swell any bigger in size, his heart so inevitably full of her, it left room for no one else, not even Maeve, which was the first time he’d brought himself to think that in months.
+1 The one with the book.
He opened the door to her bedroom, her duvet tossed everywhere because it was a rare occasion she made her bed before they left for work, her clothes strewn about the floor in the general direction of the bathroom, like she’d stripped on the way there, and the thought of it made his stomach seize with a heat, the idea of her undressing little more than a wall away from him knocking his every thought from his head.
The vase. He needed a bigger vase.
Quickly collecting her clothes up and shoving them into her laundry basket for her, he diverted his attention to her dresser, where the slightly roomier pot sat on the floor, a towel underneath it to catch any water remnants and he stepped over her various note pads and books she’d clearly tossed off the bed before she went to sleep.
He tried to ignore them, he really did, but his scratching urge to keep things tidy for her wrestled with his conscience that said to leave her stuff alone. Before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself organising them into a neat pile in his hands and placing them on top of her dresser where one of her books had made it safely, or at least safe enough she wouldn’t trip over it.
His gaze dropped to the book already on there, its leather cover entirely melting into the background of the dark chestnut dresser, yet it stared daggers up at him like it had been waiting to be noticed.
Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.
The book looked old enough to be easily from original 1900s, at least one of the first few hundred published. It was scuffed a little on the edges, the black lettering of the printed title choppy in places where it had been handled recklessly, and the leaves of paper were atom thin. The smell of dust and paper clouded his nose when he picked it up delicately.
Opening the front cover curiously to see its printed date, he was stopped in his tracks to see a little post it note on the title page, covering Mr Dickens’ name with a scrawled handwriting he’d known for six years.
Six whole years. Nearly seven. He felt like he’d known her his whole life, when in startling reality he’d not even known her a third of it.
And there it was, where he was expecting a list of notes or her thoughts on how David Copperfield had much more likeable characters, anything that she’d thought important enough to scratch down on the front page, instead was his name.
Spencer,
He felt his breath catch the second he read it, contemplated slamming the book shut right then and there because this felt illicit to read whatever it was she’d scribbled out just for him even if it was dedicated to the stupid man who’d been asking her to wait on his stupid head and stupider heart to align so he could give her exactly everything she deserved.
His gaze snapped away from the page, that voice in his head telling him this was wrong, that if she’d wanted him to see that book she would have given it to him already. And yet, like it did most days, the beating organ in his chest writhed in annoyance that he’d looked away, that he’d followed the rules one too many times for its liking. He bit his cheek, the two halves of himself arguing amongst themselves.
After a second of debating, his eyes fell slowly to the note, a creeping guilt skirting down his spine that he was reading something private. How could something be private and yet meant for him? His brain scoffed at the dichotomy of it all, while his chest lurched when he caught a glimpse of more of her writing.
‘Spencer,’ His heart trembled almost as much as his hand as he traced the writing with his forefinger, imagining her writing it out in a little ball point pen, her body slumped over the book with every intent of having him read her little note. He imaged her breath fanning across the page, her hand warm as her knuckles stroked over the paper, and it felt so much more intimate than a little post-it when he thought of her like that, ‘By the time you’re reading this I’ll be back home from London and we’ll probably be in your apartment doing that stupid thing we do when we pretend like I haven’t missed you more than anything in the whole world while I’ve been here in England,’
She wrote this in London, probably in that tiny apartment her and Emily had rented on a short lease, the one she’d said smelled like mildew and dust and wet wood but had a gorgeous view of Hyde Park when she looked out her bedroom window.
She’d written it months ago, so why hadn’t she given it to him?
‘I miss you every day. You’re all I think about when I go for a run, and I think sometimes you’d really like it here. I’ve mapped out all the bookshops I’ve found and all the places that do really good coffee if you ever did want to visit England, but I think I’d be happy with you even if we lived in a little ditch on the side of the road like two drowning rats,’
His chest seized, tears lining his lashes when he thought about that day she’d yanked him into a hug the second she saw him, when he’d been too busy thinking about Maeve and burying whatever he felt for Bugsy entirely behind him.
You should have called, Bug. He’d said, like his eidetic memory wanted to twist the knife in just that bit deeper, and he didn’t need his freaky brain to remember how her face had fallen when he’d said it like that. Like he didn’t even want to see her.
He hated himself. He hated himself more than she’d ever had. Even if she had more rights than anyone to despise his selfish guts.
‘Anyway, I know Dickens isn’t your favourite or anything, but I got you this because I know you like the original copies and because it made me think of you (but then again, what doesn’t?).
I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine. And so I guess that means I’ll love you until the life part stops too.
All my heart,
Bug.’
He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he finished the note, digesting every single word the average speed instead of his usual method of inhaling the letters faster than should be possible, like he wanted to savour every single one because they’d come from her.
He heard her saying every single one, the thought striking him like someone had cracked him across the face with a paddle. She’d wanted to say all of this when she was in London, when he’d been too busy for her, when he’d been too busy with Maeve.
I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine.
“Did you find it?” Her voice called from the other room, no doubt where she was settling down to flick the movie on, her heart so delicate and gracious because she was still waiting for him.
Even now, even when she was in his clothes and under the blanket she’d brought from her apartment for them to use on movie nights because it got cold too fast in his house, when she was waiting for him to come back.
Spencer felt knocked out of a dream, like someone had yanked the chord on his music, shaken him awake into the freezing realisation she was waiting for a reply.
He’d made her wait long enough.
He barely heard her footsteps entering her own room, probably worried when he hadn’t responded and she said his name, “Spence?” A shudder rolled over his neck when he heard it, a siren song he’d been hearing like a mantra for weeks and he felt something fat and full well in his chest when he turned to look at her, standing there in nothing but boxers and a shirt, just as she had when he’d first met her.
Except she was his. She was waiting on his call, on his signal, on his word go.
And it was like the idea of being with her for the rest of his life made his living part worth it too. Like it always had done.
Her eyes fell down to where his hand rested on top of the book, the page splayed open where he’d delicately flicked it open, the yellow post-it catching in the light and making her expression fall.
They looked at each other, the same thought channelling between them, their brains meshed together on some other kind of bluetooth the same way they’d always done, only this time it was a prickling hive mind that gave them both gooseflesh the second they locked eyes.
“Why didn’t you give me this?” He asked, his voice small because he already knew the answer, not daring to move a muscle like she was some kind of deer ready to be spooked.
“You were busy,” She said equally as sheepish, her thumb moving to pick the side of her nail when she saw his still stature. They went quiet again, neither of them daring so much as to breathe too loud because they both knew what was on that note. It was the closest she could ever come to splitting open her own chest and handing him that thumping wad of bloodied muscle herself, and it was only when he turned to look at her did she panic, words tumbling from her lips; anything to stop him from walking away because she’d been poking around a fresh wound, “You weren’t supposed to see- I mean you were but only when you wanted to, I didn’t want you to think-”
Except he wasn’t heading for the door like she’d thought, he was heading straight for her.
“Spence, please, I wasn’t going to tell you until-” But she’d shut up, because instead of replying anything back to her, instead of telling her she could have his heart and his soul and everything in between if she’d ever ask for it again, instead of telling her she was the thing that had kept him alive, like she might as well be the blood that rushed through every one of his veins, he grabbed her face in his hands so hard her back hit the wall, her hands flying out to stop herself from falling.
And he kissed her, so hard he thought he might cry because it was better than any high he’d ever had, any drug on the market, better than his wildest dreams. She froze for a second, worried she’d tripped and fallen on her way over, that this was a concussion spun wild, because there was no way he was kissing her with every inch of their available skin pressing against one another, his hands swallowing her cheeks whole, his body invading her space, his breath rushing through her nose that bumped against his clumsily.
Bugsy woke up after a second, her hands gripping onto his slender waist like he was pulling her drowning out of water, like he was dragging her from a flame which she didn’t think sounded too far off since her skin had become molten, her cheeks hot, her chest wrenching for control like she’d inhaled black smoke.
But he was there, kissing her like she was all he had left, and she kissed him back with equal fervour, whimpering when he bit her lip, a hand wrapping around her waist to tug her just that bit closer to his stomach. Any molecule of her that was left behind was stolen by the action, and all she could think was that every inch of her was his, entirely his, his forever if he wanted it.
“I love you, I love you so much,” He gasped, drawing away for a split second of air before he took her lips to his own once more, twice, and a third for good luck, their teeth knocking together as he wanted to tell her that a million more times while still kissing her, “I love you, I love you. God, I don’t think I ever want to stop saying it,”
He pulled her to him again, silencing his own stupid ramblings of a mad man, a whine dragging from his throat as his brows furrowed, his lips soft and plump as he kissed her like he was begging for honey after a hundred day fast.
And she smiled into his mouth, because Spencer was finally hers.
--
taglist
@release-your-sweets s @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3
@rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @theoraekenslover r @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @green_vita @busy-buzzing @kitty-kei @universallyblizzardlove @suckstobrlaurie @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @splatteredpurplepaint @pieceuvmind @jiuseoks
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#matthew grey gubler x reader#Matthew gray Gubler x reader
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‘Tis the season for Seduction
12 Days of Dickmas - Theodore Nott x Reader
Summary: Your toxic boyfriend comes buzzing with presents a bit earlier this year 👀
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, SMUT, chars 18+, modern au, toxic!theo, toxicbf!theo, dom!theo, sex toys, orgasm torture, nipple play, anal play, clit stim, dildo fuck, multiple orgasms, degrading, dirty talk, slight spitting, foreplay, PIV, dom&sub, Theo using way too many sex toys on us, I apologize for the cluster fuck💀
The crimson and forest green matte box sat right in front of you. Theodore towered over your small frame, arms crossed across his chest while a cunning smirk danced on his lips.
“Well go on…Open it, Cara-“
Waving one of his hands to you, a keen grin twitched on your lips. Your fingers tugging off the velvety ribbon. “I’m just confused about why you want me to open up one of my gifts so early.”
Through a soft giggle, you peeked open the box, your eyes squinting through teasingly. “Come on-We don’t have all day-“ Grumbling as he scratched his forehead, it was clear Theo was getting more and more annoyed.
You hated upsetting him, fighting with him. With a tiny sigh, you finally lifted the lid off. Your jaw physically dropped at what laid within the gift box.
Nipple clamps, two vibrators, a butt plug with a crystal gem, multiple blindfolds, and lastly?…a dildo molded into the shape of Theo’s cock. Even if it was him using the toys on you, of course, it had to be HIS dick going inside of you.
“You’re being real’ quiet…”
Theodore complained, taking yet another step toward you. Seeing the outline of his aching hard-on in the grey sweats he was wearing. “I- I guess I’m just confused…?” Almost doubting yourself, another nervous laugh freed your lips.
“Confused? Confused about what? I mean…I got these for you…To use on you.” Those ocean eyes of his darkening by the second. You wriggled backward on the bed, breathing heavier.
Arousal started to intensely pool between your legs, and Theo gradually made his way onto the bed. “You wanna use…All of those on me?” A sarcastic yet wicked laugh rumbled from his throat.
You swallowed, flickering your gaze between his own. Your legs spread seamlessly as if they had a mind of their own. Your little skirt riding higher and higher. “Of course…I wanna see how much you can handle-“
Testing you. He was going to test you. And fuck. That only turned you on more so. Biting back the smirk that wanted to rise on your lips, you nodded your head.
“I can handle it all-“
Spitting out way quicker than you intended, you gasped for a moment. Theo letting out a low growl while taking all of the sex toys out of the box. “We’ll see about that…” He grumbled, taking a moment to glance over at you.
“Undress…I need to see every single inch of you-“ Demanding you through his thick Italian accent, you rushed to throw off all of your clothes. Lying back practically out of breath.
Playing with the rings around your fingers, you looked down at Theo through your lashes. Seeing him fling his own shirt off. “—This good?” You hummed, feeling the arousal already starting to drip out of you.
Theo’s gaze examined your entire body, studying it eagerly. Depicting the goodies he had bought all over you. “Perfect.” Breathing out, he flicked the vibrator on.
—Buzz-Buzz-Buzz— The tiny little thing sure roared. With his free hand, he swatted your thighs apart, the stinging sensation sprawling across your flesh. “Look at you…Aching for my touch, huh?”
Taunting you, he teased the buzzing toy along the slap-inflicted area, his eyes burning into your leaky slit. “Y-yes…Very much so-“ You whined, jolting your hips forward to try and get the vibrator to slip closer to your clit.
Suddenly, you were met with an unfamiliar vibrating sensation. Instantly causing your body to convulse and your eyes to roll in the back of your head. Your lips quivering. “Feels good doesn’t it?”
Theo only heckled you more so, letting the vibrator sit right against your slit as he grabbed the clamps. “Let’s get these nipples nice and swollen-“ Muttering in a low tone, he pinched each nipple before applying the clamps.
Hissing out from the intense clench, you squirmed beneath him while he applied more pressure with the vibrator. “F-feels so-so good, Theo—“ Your lips trembled, the pain from the clamps slowly turning to a blissful numbness.
“Yeah? How good?- Use your words.”
As much as you wanted to fucking use your words, you couldn’t. A babbling mess already and yet he hadn’t even used all of the toys on you. “Answer me,” Theo demanded, applying even more pressure with the vibrator.
“I-I…It feels so- Fuck- Fuck! I’m gonna-“
Struggling over your moans, he teasingly tugged the clamps a few times. A shit-eating yet prideful grin plastered on his face. “Awe…Gonna cum for me already huh? So pathetic…So pathetic how easily I can get you off.”
The way he was degrading you mixed with whizzing against your needy little clit was enough to send you over the edge. Heaven running through your body, your legs jerking as you hit an intense orgasm.
“F-fuck! I’m so sensitive!” Trying to back away from the toy, Theo hauled tightly on the clamps. Making you wince out, but not necessarily from just pain but…Pleasure too. The fuck?
“I’m not done with you yet-“
You swallowed, trying to compose yourself as the sensitivity slowly strayed away. But that’s when Theo grabbed the dildo. Bringing it up to your lips. “Open and get it nice and wet—“ Like the good little sub, you complied. Parting your lips and sucking on the object, that strangely enough was perfectly molded exactly like Theo’s.
“-Mmmm” Whimpering over the toy, he yanked it out from your mouth. Groaning at the irresistible sight of you. “Good fuckin’ girl-“
Without warning, Theodore plowed the dildo deep inside of you. Crying out from all of the sensations going on, your back arched against the cool bed sheets.
“Fuck-I- Fuck!” Your voice came out almost growl-like. Your nails dug into the soft comforter as he pumped the toy in and out of your needy little cunt.
Everything about this was overwhelmingly sexy. Not just for you but for Theo as well. “Gods- Such a little slut…You fuckin’ love this don’t you?” Challenging you, he pressed the vibrator between your folds, hitting it right on your swollen little bud.
“Y-yes! Fuck- I love it…I love it!” Your moans progressively got louder, the rush of euphoria washing over you rapidly. Before Theo could even respond your body started to shudder. “I-I…Theo!— I’m cumming!”
Eyes squeezed shut, your wetness drifted freely down the dildo. Theo giving you a look of approval as you hit your orgasm. “-So fuckin sexy when you lose control for me.”
However, just as you came down from the pleasurable climax, it’s as if your body couldn’t handle it. Especially with no signs of Theo stopping.
“Yes- Yes! I’m-“
Trying to spill out that you were going to cum yet again, you couldn’t even form a proper sentence. Seeing stars as pure ecstasy hit you strongly, Theodore felt nothing but pride within himself.
“Orgasm…after orgasm…after orgasm…” He hummed as he finally started to slow down thrusting the dildo, coming to a complete stop but leaving the dildo inside of you. Sitting snuggly between your clenched walls. “I…I don’t know how many more I can do…”
Swallowing hard, you knew this wasn’t ending. Not yet. But fuck orgasm torture was something that drove you crazy. In the best damn way possible.
“You’re going to cum as many times as I want you to- Got it?”
His assertiveness was only creeping out more so. One hand keeping the little buzzer on your clit while the other rummaged for the butt plug. Letting it run from your belly button all the way down to your mound.
Nodding your head submissively, your lips slightly parted, parched from the endeavors already. “You…You make me feel so good, Theo…” Whispering the words, he smirked in your direction.
“Damn right I do, Cara-“ The cockiness was coming out at full force while he dragged the plug down to your ass. Teasing it over the tight little hole. Spitting down on the cold metal to lube it up, he began to press it in.
Goosebumps pricked your skin, your body adjusting the foreign sensations firing on throughout you. You bit down on your lower lip, muffling your whimpers. “There ya’ go…” Theodore murmured, pressing the plug further in until all he could see was the sparkling gem.
Exhaling deeply, you let yourself fully relax. Something of comfort swirled with pleasure washing over you. “This feels…different…But so…” Cutting yourself off, Theo began to slam the dildo back inside of your pussy.
You were lost in a sea of your own moans. Theo doing major work on every possible thing he could. “Bet you feel so full, hm?” He taunted you, slicking the vibrator in a circular motion around your aching clit.
Not even processing what he had said, you were lost in a blissful trance. Just bobbing your head and hoping it was the right thing to do. “Answer me, Slut— Tell me…Tell me how full you feel right now.” Again with that damn demanding tone.
But it snapped you out of that daze, your eyes locking with Theodore’s. “I feel s-so full- I fucking love it— feels so good, baby-“ Your confirmation only made him pound the dildo inside of you even harder than before.
“Fuck yeah you do- Such a dirty little slut- damn.”
Somewhat praising you, his cock was damn near ready to burst through his sweats. Precum staining the cotton material as he watched you have the time of your life. All because of him.
Theo knew this would be the last intense orgasm, knowing you wouldn’t be able to resist much more. But he knew this would be one you would never forget.
“T-Theo! Don’t stop- don’t fuckin’ stop- just like that— Fuck!”
Tears pricked your eyes as you tumbled over the edge of the sweet release. However, this was otherworldly. Earth-shattering. Your juices squirting out onto the dildo and vibrator.
For a second, Theo snaked his hand from the dildo, bringing it up to yank the nipple clamps right off of your breasts. The blood running back to your nipples only fueling the intense climax.
“You fuckin’ loved this gift huh?”
The afterglow was starting to hit you while you felt the vibrator shut off. Theo slowly pulled out the dildo and buttplug, setting all of the toys aside. “-Mhhhmm…Best gift ever…” Giggling, you propped yourself up slightly.
Theodore’s eyes seemed to darken to a shadowy depth. Slapping your thighs apart yet again as he wiggled his grey sweats off. “Oh, we aren’t done…”
Stroking his massive cock right against your sensitive and slick entrance, it seemed a smirk grew on both of your faces. Knowing this was just the start of a very long yet very fun night together. And with that, Theo thrusted his cock within your drenched walls. Absolutely destroying you. All. Fucking. Night.
On the fifth day of dickmas we get…well…a lot💀🎁
Hope you all liked this one! I definitely struggled a bit writing this but hope it turned out decent🥹
Also definitely go check out @nottsangel @nottswitch and @slytherinslut0 for some more smutty Christmas fics👀
Love all my sexy smut sluts sm 💋
#12 days with mommynott🎁#mommynotts christmas ❄️#theodore nott#theo nott#theo nott smut#slytherin boys#theodore nott smut#theo nott x reader#slytherin#theo nott x you#toxic!theo#theodore nott fanfic#theo nott smutt#theo nott drabble#theo nott x fem!reader#theonott#theonott smut#theo nott imagine#theodore nott fanfiction#theodorenott x reader#theodorenottsmut#theodorenott#theodore nott fic#theodore nott imagine#theodore nott x fem!reader#theodore nott x reader#slytherin boys smut#slytherinboys#theodore nott smutt#theo nott fanfiction
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Boyfriend!Sukuna was definitely not a shy man.
As someone who had tried every possible way to embarrass him, neither your actions nor your words ever worked. Every time, he’d look at you with the same seriousness—or even mild annoyance. Did you truly believe you could make him blush? It was ridiculous. There was no way someone as towering and unshakable as him would ever feel embarrassed to the point of turning red. It was simply impossible.
But for you, “impossible” was just a word.
You were leaning against his broad chest, sitting in his lap, as the two of you watched the snow falling onto the garden from your terrace. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the touchy type, but when you insisted, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for you.
“So, you’ve never been embarrassed?” you asked, your gaze fixed on the snow as it blanketed the greenery outside. Your question earned a low grunt from him.
“I was wondering how long it’d take for you to ruin the moment,” he replied, pausing briefly before adding, “Three minutes and forty-one seconds. Congrats, brat, you broke your previous record.”
His words made you laugh so hard your body shook, though Sukuna couldn’t understand what was so funny about his dead-serious comment. You were a peculiar one, that was for sure.
Suddenly, you shifted in his lap, moving to straddle him. His large hands instinctively settled on your waist, steadying you.
Who would’ve thought being held by four hands could feel this good?
As your fingers trailed through his pink, messy hair, Sukuna’s eyes fluttered shut—something he couldn’t help but do whenever you touched his hair. It always brought him an unexplainable calm, a sense of peace he found nowhere else.
“I’m good at breaking records,” you teased, a bright smile lighting up your face. Sukuna didn’t open his eyes, but you caught the faintest upward twitch of his lips—a rare, fleeting moment of softness.
“I can see that. You surprise me more and more every day, you cheeky brat.” The crimson eyes that most people found cursed and terrifying locked onto yours, though you found them utterly irresistible. While he’d never admit it, seeing you smile made everything in his world feel a little brighter.
Slowly, he leaned in, nuzzling his head against the soft curve of your neck. His lips found the sensitive spot behind your ear, and he planted a gentle kiss there, letting his teeth graze your skin ever so slightly.
“Just one touch…” His warm breath sent shivers down your spine. “One single touch is enough to turn your neck red. I’d bet your cheeks are even redder than your neck right now.”
He was right. Your cheeks were undoubtedly burning like wildfire. You knew your face had turned a shade rivaling a clown’s red nose.
“Kuna—”
“I want you right here.” His deep voice resonated through you. “Watching the snow while I bury myself inside your warm, tight little pussy.”
If you stayed like this any longer, everything he said would probably happen. You were already sore from last night. Besides, it was Christmas Day, and you wanted to do something other than just have sex with your boyfriend.
With great difficulty, you pulled his massive head away from you. If he wanted to stop you, he could have, but if he did, he’d probably have to endure you complaining to him for two hours.
Still holding his head, you scolded him, “Nuh-uh. Last night you nearly broke my back.” Furrowing your brows, you let go of his head and stood up. “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate, and don’t even try that ‘I don’t like sweet things’ excuse. I know who ate the Oreo Milka I bought two days ago.”
As you walked off the terrace toward the kitchen, you called out loudly, “Be a good boy, Sukuna, and maybe I’ll let you have me on the terrace later.”
Magic words didn’t always have to be “please.” After all, the word “please” didn’t even exist in Sukuna’s vocabulary. But if he had to pick one magical phrase, it would undoubtedly be “good boy.”
Those two words were enough to make your supposedly unshakable boyfriend blush furiously and feel his heart race in his chest.
It wasn’t the first time you’d called him “good boy,” but every time you did, he somehow managed to hide his face, avoiding your gaze.
Boyfriend!Sukuna who made others kneel at his feet, who inspired fear with his towering figure and unmatched strength, could turn into a shy mess with just two simple words from you: “good boy.”
a little note: can i get a little commotion for my red ribbon divider 😌
all rights belong to the @moonlitwitchdaisy do not copy, reproduce, or translate my work.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x you#jjk#jjk x reader#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna#ryomen x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna headcanons#sukuna x you#sukuna ryomen#sukuna x y/n#sukuna jjk#sukuna fluff
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Gojo falls ill and reader does finishes his missions and her own missions as well do Gojo doesn't have a pile of work waiting for him once he gets better. Gojo gets better. And finds out. Hehehehe Lobe u babes
omg I love this, let's do it hehe
Reader finishing Gojo's missions when he falls sick and he finds out
Pairing: Gojo x wife!reader
Word Count: 2,3k
Synopsis: When your husband falls sick, you don't think twice about completing all of his tasks in order for him to not be stressed - even if it means multiple sleepless nights for youself. Little did you know that your husband will find out about it and thank you in his own way...
Warnings: pure fluff over fluff so enjoy, Gojo basically being THE husband for y'all, not proofread because it's already darn late here and I'm way too tired
„Oh come on, don’t tell me the honoured one caught a cold”, you playfully tease your beloved husband.
He’s definitely ill, there’s no doubt in that. The way his forehead is covered in sweat, his unusual pale face paired with his heavy breathing. Let alone the sight of his red and runny nose.
You never thought this is possible. After all, Satoru is one of the few people who are able to use revered technique. Isn’t he able to heal himself, to prevent his body from falling sick?
“Looks like I overdid it those last weeks. My body is catching up on my apparently”, he replies weakly along with a nasty sounding cough.
You know all too well these last weeks were like a trip to hell and back for him. This is actually the first time you saw your husband after one whole week of him running from mission to mission and coming home into bad past after midnight. Being two special grade sorcerers, it is your responsibility to prevent the worst things from happening. Especially during summer, the number of curses triples. And that paired with the stinging fact that jujutsu sorcerers die like flies each and every day…
It’s no wonder his body took a toll on him.
“You’ll stay here for the rest of the week, babe”, you instruct him gently while pulling a blanket up his chest.
“Nah, no chance. I’ll have a pile of work when I get back and-AH.”
It’s frightening, the way he almost chokes while coughing so roughly that it vibrates through your whole body. This doesn’t sound good at all. To be exact, you’ve never seen your husband like this despite the fact that you’ve been together for multiple years by now. If he’s feeling this miserable, it’s definitely time for a break.
“Don’t worry about that. I hold the position while you’re gone.”
Little did he know you meant that.
-a week later-
“It’s far past midnight. Why are you still up, (y/n)?”
His hoarse voice rips you out of your microsleep immediately, lids so heavy they feel like closing by themselves if you don’t pay close attention.
“Oh, just work.”
No, it’s not just work. Apart from the daily drama you have to endure, you made it your mission to complete each and every task your husband would face as soon as he comes back. You know all too well he’ll throw himself fully into work again, not thinking about his own health a single second. And to prevent that, you decided to finish his missions as well, to teach his students, to do anything in your power to prevent Satoru from a pile of work.
Including swollen eyelids, constant grumpy mood, no effort to eat and your shoulders hanging down onto the ground.
You hate to admit it, but you are exhausted. You never realized how much work your husband does during the day. Must be easier for him, though. Teleportation sure sounds nice at the moment…
“I’m worried about you, babe. Are the elders bombarding you with work again? Maybe I need to have a serious talk again-“
“No, don’t think too much about it. I’m just hanging on a bit, that’s it”, you lie.
Oh, Satoru knows it is. After all, you’re talking about yourself. You, so disciplined that you’d never leave work unattended. No, it’s absolutely impossible that you’re “hanging on a bit”. But what else is it? The dark circles underneath your eyes look like valleys in the soft light of a lamp, tired eyes failing to focus on the paperwork in front of you. Usually, this is what you’re doing straight in the morning when he’s still asleep. What keeps you so busy these last days? He has to find out, he-
He almost chokes on himself again, earning a concerned side eye from you. It’s been a week and he’s still sick to the brim. Worry lines decorate your face, palm gently resting against his scorching hot forehead.
“Off to bed with you.”
“Don’t stay up too long, okay? All you seem to do is work these last days”, your husband replies worried himself.
You sigh to yourself. That’s because you do. But leaving your husband to a pile of work after he returns to Jujutsu High only to get sick again? You grab the pen in your hand tighter, force your eyes to fully open. Only a few more days and you’ll be done. After all, you’re doing this for him, right?
Satoru is definitely worth the sleepless nights.
-a few days after-
“Turns out I’m fully back at normal again, babe!”, your husband announces proudly.
You blink against the harsh light of the merciless sun, eyes dry like sand. Only a few hours ago, you returned from a village Satoru was supposed to inspect. Well, minutes turned into hours when a special grade curse appeared out of no where and made your life living hell. The sun already began to rise when you carried yourself back into bed.
But still, you can’t help but smile at him. These last days were rough for him. Him, the strongest, passed out because of a cold. He wasn’t himself all this time, weak body bound into bed with his limbs aching.
“So glad to here that”, you mumble while pressing a gentle kiss onto his lips.
“Sleep in for a while, you look exhausted (y/n). I know you just came back a few hours ago and don’t you dare to lie at me.”
Your eyes widen in an instant, cheeks blushing ever so slightly. You were so careful about leaving and returning, his even and long breaths not giving a single hint that he might be awake.
“I’m heading to Jujutsu High, bet work piled up pretty bad. Wish me good luck and have a good rest princess, I’ll kick their asses if they try to call you!”
With one last loving glance at you, he’s gone. And you can’t help but pass out immediately.
“Guess who’s back to save the day!”, Satoru announces proudly into the room filled with his students and Yaga Masamichi who looks at him with the same disinterest as usual.
“You? Didn’t even know you even exist anymore”, Nobara mumbles while filing down her nails.
“How are you? (y/n) told us you were sick”, Yuji interjects.
“I’m completely back to normal!”
“What a shame”, Megumi mumbles under his breath.
“Sooo, what side of earth do I have to save today? I’m sure a lot of work piled up while I was gone. After all, I’m the strongest.”
Satoru stretches himself playfully, waiting for the director to tell him about all different kinds of missions, curses and teachings he has to deal with these next few days. But instead, he just shrugs his shoulders.
“What? Got nothing to say? Okay, let me guess, what about that special grade curse in the village-“
“Done”, Yaga Masamichi replies dryly.
“The combat training with the first year-“
“Done.”
“Any curses that appeared in Tokyo?”
“Done.”
“Taking care of-“
“Done.”
This can’t be true, the man in front of him has to joke. Apart from you, Satoru is the only special grade sorcerer here at Jujutsu High. No one would ever be able to fulfil some of those missions, let alone teach his students just like that. Not even the director himself is capable of dealing with that special grade curse he was talking about just before Satoru got sick. But who…?
“Didn’t your wife tell you she already managed all those things?”
Oh, he was so stupid that it hurts. All these nights he caught you almost falling asleep on your desk, the multiple times you sneaked out of bed far past midnight, the dark circles under your eyes. All this time, you weren’t only busy with your own missions. No, you actually fulfilled all of his work for him as well.
“Just the amount of work I have to do when I come back. Urgh, being sick sucks.”
“Don’t worry, love. I’m sure you’ll be fine.
Yeah, he sure as hell is. But only because you decided to make your own life living hell for two weeks straight.
“Please don’t tell me (y/n) did all of my stuff while I was gone.”
“I’ll never understand how a kind-hearted woman like her ended up with you. She didn’t even stop when I told her to and somehow managed to get information about the missions I prepared for your sick ass”, the director replies dryly.
“Call her in right now.”
Words aren’t enough to thank you for this. No, you deserve way more than that, way more than his mouth could ever give you.
“And let her leave again in about an hour.”
-an hour later-
“Again, sorry for calling you in, (y/n). Now get back home, you’re free tomorrow.”
“Thank you”, is all you’re able to reply, wobbly feet carrying you back into your car and onto the road.
You sigh to yourself. Well, you definitely didn’t expect the director to call you this early when you just returned from an exhausting mission. But who are you to say no to him? After all, it’s your job to do this, it’s your job to protect the innocent.
But…Is it also your job to answer strange questions from your students in the morning?
“Come on, use your brain! You know what the director said!”, Nobara hisses through gritted teeth, the trio sticking their heads together after you were forced to drop your haircare routine to Nobara.
“Ehm...so…well…”
“If you don’t have any further questions, I’ll go-“
“Yes! I have a question!”, Yuji screams so loudly that his voice echoes through your tired brain.
“What is it, Yuji?”, you mutter with your eyes closed.
“How exactly are babies made, (y/n)-san?”
“You’re an idiot…”, Megumi grumbles.
“Really? This is all you have left in your pea-sized brain?”
“What? You just told me to ask her something and that’s what I came up with!”, Yuji defends himself.
“Yeah, but that ‘something’ definitely didn’t include THAT!”
It’s almost as if they were forced to ask you dumb questions. You’ll definitely have a talk with your husband about their strange behaviour when you caught up on sleep. But before that…
You open the door with a swift motion.
Your heart skips a beat, eyes widen.
The usual so modern and clean living-room is now covered in rose pedals and filled with the fresh scent of sakura leaves, your couch unfolded and covered in the most fluffy blankets, pillows and stuffed animals you’re ever seen. And there he sits.
He, your beloved husband, holding up your bathrobe oh so inviting.
“What’s going on here?”, you breathe out.
Suddenly, all the exhaustion you felt earlier disappeared into thin air. Did he really do all of this for you? The candles flickering, the blankets, the strawberries covered in chocolate waiting on the table, him wearing that black t-shirt you love so much.
“Guess what, I found out what you did. Did you really think you’ll get away with stealing my work in silence?”, he teases, love dripping from each and every word he says.
“It was nothing”, you try to brush him off.
But instead, he gets up and grabs your hand in order to guide you into the dim bathroom that is only lightened by a few candles. Again, the lovely smell of sakura leaves radiates from the bathtub filled with bubbles and hot steam. Just the thought of letting yourself sink into that warm water, to finally release the tension in your sore muscles-
Before you’re even able to comprehend what’s happening, Satoru took off your clothes and lifts you off the ground with ease. Your body doesn’t dare to fight back, too weak from all the missions you completed these last days. Just the tip of your toe, relaxing in the water for a few minutes before returning to Jujutsu High…
“Nothing, huh? So you mean doing the stuff I need a month for in two weeks besides your own missions is nothing? Words can’t express how thankful I am to have such a sweet, caring and steaming hot wife”, he whispers against your ear, his fingers starting to massage your back oh so skilled.
You allow yourself to sink into his touch, to rest your eyes for a few minutes. Well, there is no denying in the fact that this was a little too much for you. All the fighting, the paper work, the heart and soul you poured in each and every work.
And then there’s him. Satoru, your beloved husband, who massages your back with his skilled fingers. How lucky you are to call him your husband, that he decided to spend the rest of his life with you. Even though he scolded you ever so slightly for managing his pile of work, you know he’d do the same for you in a heartbeat. What a treasure, how glad you are to know him, how wonderful he is…
“(y/n)?”, Satoru purrs against your ear.
You don’t response, chest rising and falling slow and steady. He can’t help but smile to himself, admiring he beauty of your finally resting face. Carefully, he lifts you out of the bathtub and covers your body in the fluffy bathrobe you love so much. You definitely deserve some rest for all the work you did these last days.
He can’t help but gently caress your cheek, making sure you’re completely tucked you underneath your favourite blanket.
“What a lucky man I am”, he mutters to himself while outlining your parted lips.
“To call someone so wonderful my wife…”
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#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#in a world of boys he’s a gentleman#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#jujutsu gojo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#gojo husband#jjk fanfic#jjk fluff#jjk satoru#satoru gojo#satoru x reader#satoru x you#yuji#jjk yuji#jujutsu megumi#jjk megumi#jujutsu kaisen megumi#nobara#itadori#jjk trio
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18+!
Tags/warnings⚠️: Alcohol consumption, club setting, misunderstandings, angst if you squint, long haired Jungkook, Reader is a brat, angry Jungkook, unprotected sex (please do not practice that irl), rough sex, spitting!, breeding kink
Word count: 3.6k
🎧 : Sticky Rice-Lil Gnar, Reminder-The Weeknd, Party Monster- The Weeknd
For my loves: Tasara & @hobicakess 🩷
Beta’d by Shaq🫶🏾
A/N: I randomly found an edit in my gallery that inspired this whole thing. HEAVILY unedited bc I’m extremely sleep deprived rn so pls be nice!
Fic takes place about 4 years before "All mine" ! Enjoy?
Being married to Jungkook has single-handedly disproved every doubtful remark you've heard from everyone trying to convince you that it would be ill-advised to get married so young.
Contrary to what you've been told, the spark between has not died. In fact, you think that you find something new to love about Jungkook every day.
His love has never once not been intentional and gentle. You've never experienced being with someone who is so in tune with your body, with your mind, with your soul. Jungkook sees loving you as a competition; his only rival being his past selves.
There is no adventure that Jungkook would want to experience without you. There’s no bridge he wants to cross without holding your hand; no dance he wants to do without you beside him….or rather bent over in front of him as you are now.
The low lights of club Euphoria had switched to a dangerously deep shade of red, casting a sinful glow on your already ridiculously seductive face. Your eyes were low, whether it was from the few drinks you'd had earlier or the thick cloud of hookah smoke that floated around the club, Jungkook didn't know.
What he did know however, was that he had the most beautiful woman in the world throwing her ass back against him, in a dress so tiny that your cheeks were becoming more and more exposed as he thrust his hips forward to meet yours.
You move in sync with the music, your bodies in perfect harmony as the people around you become a blur. In that moment, it's just you and Jungkook. You and your husband.
You feel the cool air travel further up your legs as you dance. You reach behind you to pull your dress down, more out of habit than anything. You hear Jungkook groan as your hand ‘accidentally’ presses against his crotch, and you can't suppress the small giggle that escapes you.
It's a low sound, so realistically, Jungkook can't hear it that well over the near deafening music…But he sees the way your body shakes a bit. You shake the same way when you laugh at your own jokes or Jungkook's clumsiness; and he knows you well enough that he can practically hear the sound in his head.
Fuck he's in love with you.
He's so lucky to have you. He can't wait to live the rest of his life with you, to have a family with you, to take you home and fu-
His train of thought is cut off by the harsh vibration of his phone in the pocket of his slacks. He grabs your waist to stop your movements, and you stand upright. You raise a questioning brow at him.
“It's Namjoon hyung” he mouths, pointing to the phone at his ear.
You roll your eyes and shake your head. Namjoon had been on a work trip to London for the past few ( painfully long) weeks, and he still refuses to acknowledge the time difference. You two have grown to accept it, even if it means that he calls Jungkook at the most ridiculous (sometimes inconvenient) times.
The crackle of the receiver lets Jungkook know that Namjoon is talking, but he can’t make out a word he’s saying. Jungkook quickly realizes that he couldn't possibly have this conversation inside the club, so he gestures towards the door.
“I'm going to take this outside,” he says with his lips pressed up to your ear. “Do you want to come with me? Or will you be okay ‘till I get back?”
“I'm a big girl!” You pout up at him, pushing his glasses further up his nose with your pointer finger . “I’ll be fine, go take your call! Tell Joon I said hi.”
He nods and plants a quick kiss on the crook of your neck. He strokes the side of your face with his thumb and promises to be right back, before he turns on his heels. You watch as his head disappears into the crowd, leaving you standing alone and regrettably bored.
With Jungkook gone, you have nothing else to do since you two had come alone. You think standing around in a club like someone with a lost shadow would be incredibly lame. So you do what any unoccupied, married person in a club would do, you make your way to the bar to get a drink…or two.
By the time Jungkook gets back you're just a little tipsy.
You're not a stranger to alcohol per se, but unlike Jungkook who's been around enough liquor to know what blends would be good for you (strong enough to make you feel good, but not enough to make you lose your inhibitions); you don't know much (not enough if you ask him). You think of calling him, but your phone is in your purse… perched on jungkook’s shoulder.
So you do the most logical thing you can think of, and you order the prettiest sounding drink on the menu. Who can blame you?
You’re just a girl.
~
Two cups of Serendipity later, you're back in Jungkook's arms feeling absolutely giddy and incorrigibly horny.
The lights in the club are a dark blue now, and the music is even louder. Jungkook looks exactly the way he did when he left.
Sexy as all fuck.
Long hair tucked behind his hair on one side? Check.
Denim shirt? Check.
Tattoos? Double check.
Damn.
MINE! MINE! MINE!
You're not sure where he put his glasses, but you make a mental note to ask him before you leave. You do not need a repeat of the Geum putdwaeji Sikdang* incident. You know from experience that Jungkook and contacts don’t mix; and it would take over three weeks for them to get replaced…Not a fun time.
And right now? All you want to have is fun.
Jungkook’s mouth is moving, but your brain is moving too fast (or too slow) to read his lips and you can’t hear him. But his hands pull you toward him by the waist and you lean into his touch.
Your back is turned to his front as you move slowly against him the second you hear “she’s saying baby saenggakaji ma” float over the speakers.
Jungkook moves in sync with you as he always does, but his hands remain at your waist, almost rigid. His touch is shy and..Timid? His hands don’t trail up towards your breast, or towards your belly button. You find it odd, and downright ridiculous.
You grab his hands to take them upwards, and you’re instantly confused. There’s ink on both his hands? You pause.
When did Jungkook get a sleeve on both hands?
His lips brush faintly against your ear, and you’re suddenly hyper aware of the absence of the cool metal of the rings that should be in his lip.
You don’t hear a thing except the erratic beating of your heart.
Then the inconceivable happens.
Jungkook stands in front of you, arms folded across his chest and eyes glaring at you through his glasses. The lights above you start flashing, and they bounce off his shiny, silver lip rings.
But if Jungkook is in front of you…who the fuck is behind you?!
You think you might faint.
As confused as you might have been about the situation, you knew two things for sure:
1. You needed to get as far away from not- Jungkook as possible
2. You're screwed.
Not-Jungkook seems to realize your mistake, and moves his hands from your waist so can step away from him; you rip yourself away from him as if his touch burns.
You open your mouth to say something to Real- Jungkook, but your brain goes blank.
You're too dunk for this.
Jungkook gives you a quick once- over to make sure that you're unharmed, before taking a gentle hold of your wrist. He tucks you behind him as he gives Non- Jungkook a piece of his mind.
The ringing in your ears has become so loud can't even hear the music anymore, much less their argument. Your brain feels like it's been doused in water, and you feel an unwarranted giggle making it's way up your throat. You swallow it down.
Now's not the time.
From what you can see, Real Jungkook and Not-Jungkook are having a very spirited conversation. Real Jungkook seems to be holding his composure quite well, until Not-Jungkook says something that causes his jaw to tick and his hands to form fists at his sides.
But instead of throwing a punch, Jungkook takes a deep breath and walks away, pulling you behind him.
Not- Jungkook waves at you.
You don't wave back.
Jungkook is silent as he leads you out of the club and towards your car. You say nothing as he opens the passenger door and watches as you sit inside.
“Do your feet hurt?” He asks
You shake your head at him. Still, he couches on his knees and unbuckles your heels, giving your calves a brief massage before he straps you into your seat. He closes your door and grabs a bottle of water from the back seat. He hands it to you as he settles behind the steering wheel.
“Drink.” He commands. His voice isn't necessarily angry but you can hear something bubbling beneath the surface. The restraint he's exercising is audible in his voice, and for some strange reason…it excites you.
He pulls out of the parking lot slowly, careful not to accelerate too fast so your water doesn't spill.
The fog around your brain is almost completely lifted by the time you've finished the bottle. Jungkook glances at you for a moment, and releases a satisfied hum when he sees the crumpled plastic in your lap.
He doesn't smile though.
His jaw is tense and his body is rigid in his seat. He isn't touching you and you don't like it.
“Jungkook,” you say, reaching over to touch his thigh
“Are you sure?”
You look at him confused. “Am I sure about what?’
“Are you sure I'm Jungkook?”
There it is.
You have the audacity to scoff at him.
“ Of course I'm sure it's you Jungkook. Don't be ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?! You were literally grinding your ass all over some random dude you thought was me but I'm being ridiculous?!”
Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You know that Jungkook has all right to be upset, fuck you're upset at yourself for making such a terrible mistake. Jungkook has all right to reprimand you, but your mouth just won't cooperate with your brain. All the brat inside you heard, was Jungkook rubbing in something that you were already very embarrassed and flustered about and it just didn't seem fair.
If you thought about it…This was all Jungkook's fault really!
“ Well it's not my fault that you look like every other Korean dude with a perm!!”
The car comes to an abrupt stop as Jungkook slams the breaks.
“Excuse me?”
You roll your eyes and cross your arms at your chest. Jungkook’s eyes flick down to where your tits are bulging, but only for a moment of course.
“Stuttering is your thing Jungkook. You heard me.”
“You’ve actually lost your fucking mind.” Jungkook marvels at you, completely in disbelief at your misplaced attitude.
“I should have bent you over my lap and spanked your ass raw in that fucking club for everyone to see… But I let you off so easy, because I knew you made the mistake because you were drunk; and this is the thanks I get?”
“No.” You quip, “I’m not thanking you in any way.”
The tension between you is as thick as it was during the first 3 months of you two flirting with each other. You were both in college, desperately holding on to the title of “study partners ” even though you kept finding yourselves in compromising positions.
You were both playing a timeless game of cat and mouse. A metaphorical tug of war. Jungkook would push and you would pull; now it appeared that you were having a rematch.
He sucks the pierced side of his lip into his mouth.
You want him so bad.
Jungkook’s eye twitches.
“You’re asking for it, you know that?” He asks, face so close to yours that you can practically taste him on your tongue.
“Give it to me then.” You challenge.
Jungkook leans forwards, and you close your eyes in anticipation of a kiss.
But Jungkook doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, though not hard enough to break skin.
You moan at the sting, reveling in the way his soft tongue soothes his claim.
He pulls away and runs his thumb over your lip, eyes darkening.
“Did he kiss you?” He grits out.
You frantically shake your head no.
It's then that you realize just how bad this could have truly been for you. Jungkook was right. You were getting off easy.
Jungkook pries your mouth open.
“Tongue out.” he says.
You loll your tongue out and look up at him expectantly for what you know is coming. Jungkook looks directly into your eyes as he spits into your waiting mouth. You swallow without being told to; it's almost like a reflex.
Jungkook is pleased.
“Who does that taste like, baby?”
“Tastes like you,” you reply.
Jungkook hums.
He grabs your hand and brings it over to his lap. Your breath hitches when you feel the telltale rigidness of a boner in his jeans. Your heart skips a beat as you realize how painfully hard he is.
You need him.
“What does that feel like, baby? Hm? Does that feel like me? Or are you not sure?”
You whine as he rolls his hips up into your palm. “It feels like you Jungkook, I want it.”
Jungkook’s face contorts into one of mock contemplation.
You hate when he gets like this, when he pretends to consider giving you what you want when you both know it's not going to happen.
"You want to know what I think?" he muses rhetorically.
"I think I've let you get away with a little too much lately. I've always told you that your mouth is going to get you in trouble, but I've never made good on that promise, have I?" He chuckles darkly. "Maybe it's time I change that, hm?”
Your heart thumps loudly in your chest and you feel a shiver of anticipation zoom down your spine.
“Unzip me.”
Your body is in autopilot as you undo his zipper and lean forward to take him inside your mouth.
He pulls you backwards by your braids, and brings his hand around your throat.
“You're gonna take me in your mouth and you're going to keep it there until we get home.” He growls out at you
“No licking, no sucking, no moving. By the time we get home I'll be tattooed so deep in your fucking brain that you'll never mistake someone else for me ever again.” he bites out.
But in true Jungkook fashion he brushes his lips gently against yours, then he shoves his dick down your throat .
The ride home is filled with the obscene noises of you trying not to choke on Jungkook's cock.
Your eyes are watering and your nose burns from how hard you've been breathing through it. Your chest feels hollow and your jaw aches, but you're too fucked out to care.
Jungkook's cargo pants are thoroughly soaked from the way your saliva has dripped all over him. You're sure it's beginning to get uncomfortable for him to sit like this: cock hard and throbbing and in your warm, wet mouth. Yet, he sits perfectly still; unmoving.
His breaths come out in slow, controlled gasps, and it becomes exceedingly clear to you that It's taking as much effort from Jungkook not to snap his hips upwards and fuck your throat; as it is for you to not give him an actual blowjob.
The realization is absolutely riveting.
When Jungkook pulls into the driveway of your flat, he lifts your chin up , and his dick slides out of your mouth with a wet plop.
You both try to catch your breath, chests heaving and hearts thumping. Jungkook tucks himself back into his pants, and takes a deep breath before he gets out of the car.
Like the gentleman he is, he walks over to the passenger side of the car and holds your door open for you. But when you don't make any efforts to get up, he bends down and looks expectantly at you.
You pout at him and point to your feet.
You're barefoot. Of course.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, grabs you by the waist, and tosses you over his shoulder. You squirm a bit, and Jungkook promptly delivers a warning slap to your ass which settles you completely.
He opens the front door and kicks it shut behind him, waiting until he hears the security alarm activate before he moves towards your bedroom.
He tosses you on the bed and flicks the light on. Your chin is slicked with spit, you tits are spilling out of your dress, and the curly hair in your braids are sticky to the thin sheen of sweat on your face.
You look a mess.
A hot, beautiful mess that Jungkook made. His pride swells, along with another part of him.
Jungkook turns his back to you as he takes his shirt off.
“You know I love you right?,” he asks, putting his glasses on the nightstand. He tosses his shirt onto the ground and walks over to the bed. “You know that there's nothing in the world that could ever make me stop loving you?” He asks, now face to face with you as he strokes your chin.
‘I do,” you reply, your voice comes out more of a whine than you actually want it to.
“That's great baby, because this is going to feel like I fucking hate you.”
***
You both cry out when Jungkook finally slips inside you.
You've come to accept that no matter how many times you've taken him, how many times you will take him you'll never not be taken aback by the way his cock stretches you.
The lights are on, and so you can see Jungkook in all his glory. You can see way his biceps bulge and the way his abs tense. You the way his face contorts as your pussy practically suffocates him.
“ You like what you see baby?” He taunts, “had to make sure that you can actually see who's fucking you hm? Wouldn’t want you to make another mistake now would we?”
He spits the word out as if it pains him to say, and translates that pain into a vicious snap of his hips that has you lurching forward, clawing at his chest.
His thrusts are all the same. Carefully calculated and deliciously hard. His tips brush against your gspot with every fluid movement of his hips, and all you can do is whine and beg.
At one point Jungkook slows down to a torturous pace. Pulling out of you the moment he's just shy of your gspot. You can't handle being teased, you won't. You decide to up the ante.
“Jungkook,” you moan out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he grinds into you “please make me cum daddy”
Jungkook freezes and his hips stutter.
You've never called him that before.
For a moment you regret letting it slip out of your mouth. That's until you see the crazed look that comes into Jungkook's brown eyes.
He wraps his hand around your throat and starts pistoning his hips into you.
“Daddy huh?” He grits out as your juices start leaking down your thighs and unto the skin of his stomach “ is that what you want baby? Wanna make me a dad? Hm? Maybe that way people will keep their fucking hands off you huh?”
“Jungkook please!” You scream, tears pooling in your eyes from how desperately you want the sweet release you've been denied.
“You gonna let me put a baby in you princess? Gonna let me stake my claim on you for everyone to see?” He demands as he stills to a stop inside you.
“Fuck, Jungkook yes! Please I'll do anything you want just please!” You cry
Jungkook finally drives his cock upwards, it's curved head hitting your gspot at the perfect angle. Your orgasm rips through your body so violently that you sink your fingernails so deep into Jungkook's bicep that you break skin.
You cum in spurts, coating him in a thick sheen of your arousal. Jungkook cums with you, no longer being able to resist the pleasure that your body was bringing him.
Jungkook's cum spills out of him in a long, steady stream. You feel the warmth as it seeps inside you, and you clench around him reflexively, determined to keep all of it inside.
“You wanna have my babies so fucking bad.” Jungkook mumbles into your hair, voice hoarse and laced with fatigue.
And do, you mean to say, , though it never actually comes out of your mouth.
Instead, you hug jungkook to your chest, legs wrapped securely around his waist as sleep consumes you.
Fin.
#jungkook x black reader#dad jungkook#bts smut#bts#jungkook x you#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook
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azriel crack headcannons!
im alive!
note: use of “tits” instead of “breasts”, i hate that word yall.
-You love being mushy with him. Complimenting his eyes, his hands, his voice. He gets all blushy and squeaky and it’s so cute.
-He activated cuteness aggression which confused him at first but he secretly loves how obsessed you are with him. (he’s never had anyone be so obsessed with him)
-You both give each other flowers. The first time you gave him his own bouquet he was giggling and kicking his feet in private.
-You have trouble trying new food, so he will let you try a bit of his meal if he gets something new. That way you don't “waste” (even though he has enough money to buy velaris at this point) money. Even if he insists you don't need to worry about money.
-You like asking him insane questions.
“How do you feel about me wearing revealing clothes in public?”
He shrugged. “I can fight and you look beautiful in anything.”
“If i got a new piercing-“
“My love, it’s your body. But if you pierce your nipples i’m going to have so much fun.”
-You got your nipples pierced. You couldn’t decide on what jewelry to get. So you bought two pairs. One, for the healing process that were barbells with blue gems.
For after, barbells with an ‘A’ on both ends of the jewelry. That man audibly moaned when he saw that specific piece of jewelry.
-He has loud sneezes.
-He’s afraid of spiders.
-You two 100% gossip.
-You’ll read smutty novels to each other in funny voices. This is the only way Azriel discovered that he can make an incredible high pitched voice.
-He gets the zoomies at random times. You know it’s brewing when the shadows start to practically vibrate in the air.
-If you have your hair up, he or his shadows will play with your baby hairs that escape the hairstyle.
-Speaking of the shadows, they’ll just sit on your waist like a belt and just be part of whatever outfit you have on. Or a necklace (not in a kinky way you dirty birds)
((but like, that too))
-Speaking of things being taken as kinky. He stretches you out. You have a disability that worsens when you don't do your daily stretches (sciatica nerve damage gang rise up) so he forces you to do them.
-As in pins you down and forces your body to stretch out the nerve.
“It’s almost like you like to be in pain.” He admonishes as he pushed on your glute.
“I’m just lazy.” You admit.
He smacks your ass, causing you to yelp. “Well, I don't like seeing my love in pain, so stop being lazy.”
-He may be a stoic warrior, but he’s also a guy. He loves titties.
-He’ll burrow into them when he’s upset.
-When your cycle happens, your tits get sore and swollen. So he’ll massage them, suck on them, anything.
-You wear lip balm a lot. You just have a thing where a tube needs to be on you at all times. He personally prefers when you wear a balm that’s vanilla or like a baked good. The minty balms he really doesn’t like the taste of.
-Usually, he is the exact opposite of lazy. However, you’ve turned him into a lazy sunday morning man. Or really, any day he wants to sleep in, he does now. You’re just so warm and sweet and sleepy he can’t resist it!
-You sprawl out in bed. You starfish over the entire bed if he gets up for the bathroom or water in the middle of the night. To get you back to your side, all he has to do is poke your side and you curl in on yourself.
He giggles (yes, giggles) every single time.
-He already is a mischievous man, but with you the silliness hits an all time high.
-Random ass spankings, he bean dips you, when he works out wearing a shirt, he’ll take the shirt off and throw it at you. So you have a musty sweaty ass shirt coming at you.
-You always call his shadows “little stinkers” and he loves it.
-They’ll move things to higher shelves to force you to ask Azriel for help getting them.
The man loves leaning over you, your sweet ass pressed against him as he reaches.
-Sometimes, you’ll just stare at him and wonder how this beautiful man is yours.
But that’s okay, because he stares at you the same way.
#acotar#acomaf#acowar#acofas#acofs#acotar fanfic#acotar x reader#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel acotar#azriel fluff#azriel x reader#azriel x reader fluff
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