#They are meant to be used with mischievous intent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

davdcorenswet · 1 month

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🌲 road trip.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: when your camping trip with scott gets cut short because of a work emergency, you nearly kill him and every member of storm par, intent on making your ire well known on the drive home. but when you push scott too far, his impatience has other plans. or “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, no use of y/n, bdsm, established dom/sub dynamic, pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby), brief mentions of serial killerisms (teasingly… maybe), semi-priv public sex (in a truck), scott has a whore mouth (again), groping, belting (f! receiving), spanking/slapping (f! receiving, breasts & v), oral (m+f), nippleplay (f! receiving), unprotected pinv, orgasm denial, fingering (f), cumplay, breeding A/N: when the "just a quick one shot" turns into a beast... oops? 😬 thank you to my proud sponsor aka the scott rot™️! if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

On hour two of the drive back to OKC, you think you’ve lost your mind.

What had begun as a much-anticipated weekend road trip with Scott — an incredibly overdue escape, though you weren’t exactly keeping track — had swiftly turned from enjoying the fresh, open air and the promise of an entire weekend distraction-free, to a mountain of frustration that battled the ones in the distance. All because your charming, secretly sentimental boyfriend had wanted a picture of you and the sunset for his lock screen.

If you weren’t so upset about it, you probably would’ve laughed.

But this was the fourth (fourth!) time that something had gotten in the way of your Scott Time, and, look — you needed it. So. Fucking. Badly.

Which was why when his phone had gone off again, after Scott had ignored the voicemails Javi left him, you were so, so very tempted to hurl the fucking thing into the pond. Instead, you sat there, already trying to think of a way to get your lick back with the fact that he was the one who’d insisted that going off the grid meant going off the grid and electronics simply took away from the nature of it all, the hypocritical ass. And you’d watched, with dawning realization and equal devastation, as Scott’s entire demeanor had shifted from peeved that Javi even had the audacity, to shutting his mouth and speaking in yes, sir’s and I understand, sir’s.

Oh, Marshall Riggs was going to get an absolute earful the next time y’all sat down for Sunday dinner.

But first, you had your sights set on Scott. And, quite frankly, he deserved every second of petulant that you were giving him.

When he adjusted the air conditioning, you dropped the temp lower. When he found a good station on the radio, you changed it. When he asked for one of the snacks by your seat, you munched on it first, mumbling a fake apology when you passed him a small piece. And when you finally started talking, it was one word answers: yes, no, dunno, sure, fine, whatever.

And every time he gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter, you felt vindicated by the fact that it was ticking him off.

Good. You were ticked off. And unbelievably, atrociously bored. There were only so many things you could do in his truck while you were half giving him a cold shoulder. And, well, after the last time you’d reached for the volume and he’d caught your wrist with a stern ‘knock it off’, like you were a child, you’d resorted to pouting out the window, then sifting through his middle storage, and then snooping through his glove box.

All of which were boring, in the exact way that only a man’s truck could be boring. Who didn’t have a car Chapstick, but could have packs of gum hidden everywhere? And where were the just-in-case napkins? And what did he even use pliers for?

Your brattiness — no, curiosity — wins over the agitation that still simmers just under the surface. You turn to Scott with a mischievous grin as you hold up the pliers. “Be honest. Are you secretly a serial killer?”

Scott glances at you, then at the pliers, before rolling his eyes with a faint smirk. “Caught me,” he deadpans, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to draw out your giggle.

“I knew it.” You dig further into his glove box like you expect to find a pair of gloves, which stupidly has you giggling because you’d lost your mind, see, and there was no way there’d actually— Oh. Shit. He really did have gloves. “You’re the worst serial killer I’ve met. Your whole murder kit is in here and you haven’t even tried to kill me yet?”

“Getting close to it, honey,” Scott quips, a teasing edge to his voice that makes your heart flutter. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips, betraying his amusement.

Until you keep it up, making an exaggerated show of pulling out every item you find, each discovery more dramatic than the last. The subtle tightening of his jaw tells you that rummaging through his stuff is getting more of a rise from him than your earlier silence had. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the whites of his knuckles glowing under the moonlight, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the sight.

Curling your knees to your chest with his newest item in your lap (a bundle of zip ties), you bat your lashes up at him with feigned innocence. “Am I bothering you, baby?”

“Nope.” Scott, to his credit (you pretend it’s not because you’re his girlfriend but because he just chooses to be kind), swallows down whatever shitty retort is on the tip of his tongue as he shakes his head. “Not at all.”

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to the road, as if anchoring himself, before he plasters one of his obnoxiously fake smiles on that doesn’t reach his eyes. Your own smile slips at the blatant irritation bubbling just beneath the surface, hating that look, knowing he knew you hated when he was fake with you. He reaches over, his hand finding your knee — not in the usual affectionate squeeze, but more as a grounding gesture, a silent plea for you to stop before you push him too far.

“You might want to close that now,” he adds, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable edge as he jerks his chin toward his still-open glove box. “Before I really lose my patience.”

“But...” you start, pouting a little, your fingers lingering on the edge of the glove box. “I was just having fun. I mean, what else could be in here? Secret spy gadgets? Hidden treasures?”

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. His patience is fraying, each word clipped and precise as he says, “Close. It. Now.”

You relent, closing it with a dramatic flourish and an equally exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. Glove box exploration time is over.”

Scott exhales, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Thank you,” he mutters, though his eyes still carry a hint of irritation as he changes the radio station a couple of times, scowling at the country crooning through his speakers, before just shutting it off.

“You sure you’re okay?” You test, still pushing his limits. You figured that Scott knew you better than that. That you knew him better than that. Nearly seven months together — again, not that you were counting — and he really thought you couldn’t tell when something was off?

You continue, “Just because… Well, you seem a little stressed. Is it because you didn’t get to tie me up and torture me back there by the pond? I mean, I’m sure you’ll get another chance someday, like when cows fly, but—”

“Are you done?” Scott huffs, shooting you a look.

You don’t back down from it, leveling him with your own hard expression. When he’s forced to return to the road, breaking eye contact first, that prideful part of you purrs. He sighs. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but I don’t have any other choice. So sit down, shut up, and stop fucking with my system, please.”

He says the last through gritted teeth, and as much as you loved to antagonize him, you knew when to push and when to not. Putting the last of the stuff back where you’d found it exactly how you’d found it, you stuff your hands under your thighs and pout quietly until he visibly relaxes again.

“You’re not being very nice,” you mumble, the silence that encases you both too much to bear.

Scott runs his tongue over his teeth, then looks over at you, his expression hard. “And you’re lucky I haven’t spanked your ass raw for that attitude yet.” Surprise must flash across your face, because a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth that he quickly masks. “What? Did you think I would just let all that slide?”

“No.”

Maybe.

“Liar.”

Damn it.

Before you can say anything else, Scott reaches over, gently but firmly tilting your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as his eyes leave the road for a second. “Do I need to remind you of the rules?” he asks, his tone shifting from frustrated to something far more controlled and deliberate — each word laced with a quiet authority that sends a shiver down your spine and makes your blood run hot.

It’s a tone you’ve come to know all too well, one that signals a subtle shift in the dynamic between you, a reminder of exactly who’s in charge.

To anyone else, it might have sounded like another classic Scott lecture — a stern word from someone who was used to being in control. But you knew this side of him intimately well, understood the depths of what he was really asking. This wasn’t just about a conversation or setting you straight; it was a command, a subtle but potent assertion of the power he held over you.

“Answer me,” he prompts, his voice dropping to a low, steady hum that makes your pulse race. “Yes or no, honey.”

“No,” you breathe, testing the waters of defiance.

“Let’s try that again.” Scott’s grip remains steady on the wheel, but the weight of his gaze feels like a tightening hold around you. “No, what?” he asks, his voice low and demanding, leaving no room for anything but the correct response.

You swallow. The tension between you is thick and electric. “No, sir.”

He holds your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity, long enough for you to actually worry about him being behind the wheel. But a quick glance at the road reassures you — he’s in complete control, staying perfectly between the lines, maintaining a comfortable distance from the cars ahead and behind.

His eyes flicker to your mouth, lingering there with a deliberate intensity. “We’ll see.”

A noise of discontent escapes you immediately when he returns to his side of the truck as if nothing happened, all the air leaving your lungs. We’ll see. That was it? No good girl? It’s a reprimand all on its own, defiance filling you quickly.

What was the point of his rules if he wasn’t going to listen to them?

First with his phone, which had gotten you here in the first place, and now this. You pout, crossing your arms as you glare at the car in front of you, hating everything about this weekend. God, you’d both been so exhausted from the drive to the campsite that you hadn’t even touched him like he’d promised you could **— **on top of the week he’d already instructed you not to touch yourself.

And now Scott was going to be buried in work again. He’d drop you off at home just to drive another hour or two to who the hell knew where, and from there it was back to the office to get the paperwork rolling, call the banks, pouring hour after hour into making sure this deal went through. All because Riggs had decided his time off was more important than yours.

But it wasn’t. You’d waited eons for this. And you were damned if you were going to let both him and Scott stop you.

Slowly, so slowly, you angle yourself toward your boyfriend, his eyes distant as he readjusts in his seat and fishes absentmindedly for a piece of gum to smack on. For a moment you can’t help but admire him, appreciating the way he filled out the seat, the way his jaw worked with the gum, how when he got lost in his thoughts and had a particularly interesting idea he swiped his fingers along his perfect, full mouth.

He was masculine without any effort, intelligent and calculating, and, despite this weekend, was the most attentive boyfriend you’d ever had.

And you ached for him.

Just that tone shift alone — from Scott to sir — had spiked your temperature, leaving you warm with the lack of air conditioning. You knew better than to reach for the knobs, even if the thought of him pinning your wrist down had your thighs pressing together. So you shift forward to unzip his jacket you’d stolen, meaning to shimmy it off, when you catch his eyes on you.

Instead of taking it off completely, you let the gray fabric bunch to your elbows. His eyes slide from the way it now sits on you to your white tank top before focusing back on the road, his gum making that unmistakable snap! he always did. “What’re you doing?” He asks, stealing another glance as you wriggle in the seat.

“Just hot, baby,” you hum, which wasn’t a lie.

But there’s no way to be subtle as you collect your hair into a ponytail and tie it with your scrunchie, just like there’s no way Scott can be subtle as he zeroes in on your hair being up or the fact that your tits jiggle with every bump or dip in the road. His hand flexes on the wheel, quick to snap his attention to the mirrors, as if he’d been checking them in the first place.

You bite back a smile.

By the time Scott is pressing on the brakes, an accident brings the two-lane down to one, one foot is propped up on his dashboard, your head turned to face him with every sigh that leaves your lips. With nothing to pull his attention now other than the slow crawl, his eyes catch yours again, his guard dropping as he falsely believes you’ve listened.

And that’s when you make your move.

“Baby,” you groan, wetting your lips as your fingers brush across his sleeve. Your other hand rests against your knee, slipping down along your thigh while you bat thick lashes up at him. “Can you turn the air on, please? I’m dying.”

“Mhm.” Scott does, following the invisible line your fingers paint across your skin as the air kicks on. The cool air is welcomed and the content noise that leaves you isn’t entirely fabricated. When his hand drops to rest on your thigh, you know he feels how flushed you are under his cold touch. And you know he feels you arch into it. “How’s that? Better?”

“’ Little.” Not even close, but you play it up now that you’ve got him. “Still too hot.”

“Sorry, honey,” Scott’s deep voice is genuine, frowning a bit as he squeezes your thigh. “Got it the lowest it can go. Need me to roll a window down?”

You shake your head. “It’d just bring all the hot air in.” Something he should’ve known, but you couldn’t blame him for being a little distracted. You press on, confident, still inflecting that whine in your voice. “Your hand feels good, though.”

His touch inches up your thigh in response, sure that he’s not even aware he’s doing it. As your touch moves in time with his, you drag your free hand across your chest, pressing against the leather of his seats and pushing a strap off your shoulder. The cool air directly hitting you causes a flurry of goosebumps to rise and your nipples to poke through the fabric, chest rising and falling as you make a show of overheating.

Scott snaps his gum again, removing his hand to tug gently on his jacket. “What did I say about going through my stuff?”

“Oh, you left it at my place. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” You try to play innocent, but the smile you give him is nothing short of mischievous as you intentionally arch up into his touch. “Do you want it back, sir?”

He’s quiet for so long that you think he’s returned to the road. Instead, his eyes are locked on the thin tank top that clings tight around you. A quiet hum echoes in the back of his throat as he runs his knuckles over the swell of your breast, dragging slowly across your nipple, before he seems to think better of himself and places both hands back on the wheel.

“Keep it.” He grunts, “It looks better on you, anyway.”

“Really?” Despite how you try to hide the happiness from your voice, you fail miserably. Scott didn’t offer many liberties, especially not with his personal belongings. You don’t let the distance keep you far, unhooking your seatbelt and leaning over the center divider to beam up at him.

“Really.” Your heart pitter-patters in your chest when he hums again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His eyes slide back to the road, still at a slow crawl. “Don’t get any ideas, honey.”

Oh, you had about fifty different ones, most of which included seeing how far you could go down this new avenue. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzling against his cold skin, slipping your arm through his and guiding his hand back to your thigh. Scott squeezes again, a small warning to behave. But since when did you do that?

“Come on,” he taps an index against you after a few minutes, “Buckle up. Safety first.”

“But—” You pout, wrapping your arm around him tighter. He could drive with one hand, and besides, you were barely moving enough for a seatbelt to matter. “You feel so nice. And you’re always away for sooo long, baby. And now you’re gonna be gone again?” Brushing your nose along his jaw, you let your hand drop casually to his thigh. “I just miss you.”

“It’ll only be for a few days.” He shifts under you, chewing his gum slower. No doubt weighing whether he should let this continue or end it early.

“A few days too many.” You feel him inhale as your touch roams, sliding over his muscled thigh and across the zipper of his jeans. He’s already half-hard, the outline of him growing more apparent as you continue, “Do you know how lonely it gets without you? Knowing I can’t cuddle you… Kiss you… Touch you?”

You grope him where you know his weak point is while leaning up to scrape your teeth against his earlobe. His hips lift of their own accord as he instinctively searches for more, his grip on the wheel tightening as he squeezes your thigh in his big hands.

You hide your smile as he thickens under your palm. And smile wider at the growl in his voice as he orders, “Behave.”

“Am I breaking any rules, sir?” With your lips at his ear, every needy breath against him has Scott tensing in response.

Your shorts ride up — and so does his hand, until he’s close enough that you can grind your clothed heat into him. It’s just a single roll of your hips, keeping pressure where you crave him, but it has you whining all the same.

“Please, I missed you so much… I miss touching you, feeling how big you are in my hands…” You drag your palm against his thick length, fully straining against his zipper now, his breath coming out heavy as you grip him. “Please, please, just let me taste you. I’ll be such a good girl, I promise. Wouldn’t I look so pretty with your cock stuffed down my throat? Sounding so pretty as I choke on you?” You whimper against him, the sound small and needy. “Please, sir?”

The combination of your fingers wrapped around him and the feel of your tongue lapping at that sweet spot on his neck has Scott groaning, the noise coming from deep in his throat. Before you can react, he presses you firmly back into your seat, keeping you pinned with his hand across your sternum while you try to fight against the distance he forces between you two.

“Behave.” His gaze meets yours, dark and heavy and no-nonsense.

Your cunt clenches at the authority in his tone, nipples peaking in response. Scott slips his palm under the fabric of your shirt, kneading your heaving chest and rolling the hardened nub between his index and thumb. You writhe at the sensation, a moan spilling out of you, until he pinches you hard enough that you gasp. Just as quick as it happens, he pulls out just enough to bring his palm down roughly against your tit.

The sting of the impact has you arching off the seat as your cry pierces the silence.

Scott presses his index to your mouth in warning as the police lights finally illuminate his truck, the accident off to the side. You’re breathing too heavy to pay attention to it beyond that, not caring about anything happening outside of this truck, and you pass by quickly without any incident.

The air is still heavy as you meet his gaze. And you can’t help when your fingers grip the sides of your shorts to bunch the material in your hands, greedily grinding into the taut seam aligned perfectly with your center.

Scott watches it all silently. “You want to be my good girl?” His fingers draw invisible lines down your thigh, spreading your legs apart with just a touch. You comply easily, nodding as he smooths his hand along your skin and ignites a fire inside you. “Then fucking act like one.”

There’s no warning when he slaps your pussy hard, the denim digging painfully into you. Your hands fly out to grip whatever you can as your hips stir against the pain, crying out as another smack sounds, punishing your disobedience.

And still, you can’t help but whine out for him. “But I need you! I’ve been so, so good this whole time, I swear. Even when you told me not to touch, even when I wanted to so badly— I listened, I swear I did.” Pouting over at Scott, you whimper. “Please, I promise.”

“Go on. Keep it up. Do you think you’re listening now?” His hand tightens to a fist as he rests it hard against the center divider. His gaze pings to the time display on the dashboard, then to you. “The more you misbehave, the longer you wait. Was a week too short, honey? Do we need to extend it to two? Three? Can you even wait that long without disobeying me again?”

You can barely answer, only whimpering out as you press yourself into his arm, careening out of the seat. His hand clasps hard around your wrist when you reach for his zipper again, cutting off whatever noise is in your throat with a low growl.

“If I have to pull over,” he grits out, looking you dead in the eyes, “You won’t be able to walk for a week.”

You level his hard gaze with your own even as your heart pounds heavy, his threat thinly veiled as his grip tightens around your wrist.

And you swear you don’t mean to, but the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Can you go that long without fucking me? If I can’t touch, neither can you. Not a kiss, not a hug, I won’t even let you fuck my mouth!”

As your frustration boils over, you breathe raggedly against yourself, fighting to rip your hand out of his strong grasp. He’s quiet as he watches you, the look in his eyes betraying nothing that simmers underneath the surface.

Calmly, too calmly, he continues driving, following the road as the dark trees pass you by. When he moves off the pavement to turn down a dirt road, your heart flies to your throat.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, looking behind you as if expecting anyone else to follow, but it’s just you on the solitary single lane, his tires crunching on the dirt road. “Scott?”

His mouth stays shut, turning into a clearing of trees. You usually love the outdoors, but the forest around you looks foreboding and eerie, the trees looming large overhead. You glance out the window to the night sky, but there’s not even a twinkle of starlight here. Just inky black nothingness.

He shuts the engine off, taking the headlights with it.

You think you stop breathing.

“Get in the back.” His order is quiet against the silence but travels along your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Now.”

As much as you want to protest, the words catch in your throat, refusing to form. Instead, you wordlessly climb over the center divider, dropping his zip ties into the cupholder with a deliberate clink. Your bags, shoved angrily into the back when he’d asked you to pack up, tumble to the floor, landing in a haphazard pile as you settle into the backseat.

The sudden darkness engulfs you, your eyes straining to adjust to the dim light. You can barely make out Scott’s silhouette, his intense gaze fixed on you before he opens his door with a determined click.

Silently, Scott slips out of the driver’s seat, the slam of each door echoing through the night like a final verdict. You hold your breath as he rounds the truck, each crunch of his boots against the twigs and leaves sounding louder than meant to be. The backseat door opens, and he slides in beside you, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

You find your breath again when his hand, warm and steady, smooths around your ankle, his touch both grounding and possessive. He makes room for himself, his presence filling the confined space with an electric charge. The air grows thick with anticipation as you sit there, the darkness around you deepening, your heart pounding in your chest.

Scott’s fingers trail up your leg with deliberate slowness, each movement precise and controlled. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you hostage. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, searching for some sort of escape. But it was too dark outside to see, the woods maybe terrified you a little bit without Scott by your side, and even if he chased after you — and you weren’t bratty enough to do that — you had absolutely no idea how to get back to a road, let alone the road.

And, well, you didn’t really want to get away from him. Just the punishment you knew he would dole out for your disobedience.

Still—

“I thought we had to get back to the city,” you squeak out, voice trembling against your better efforts as you try to plead your case to deaf ears, “Riggs– Riggs said you needed to be back, right? And you know how far my place is from your office, and—”

“We have time for this,” Scott interrupts, his voice firm, a low rumble that leaves no room for argument. He presses his index to the pout of your mouth, silencing you. It sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath hitching as you squirm under his grip, eyes wide and pleading.

If you were a deer in headlights, Scott was a hunter. And he was a damn good hunter.

Scott’s beautiful mouth curves into a grin, his eyes darkening with a hint of amusement. He leans in closer, his presence overwhelming, the scent of leather and the outdoors mingling with his intoxicating scent. The tension in the air thickens, every sound amplified by the stillness of the night. The rustling leaves outside, the distant hoot of an owl, even the faint hum of the truck’s cooling engine — all seem to echo the pulsing beat of your heart.

You can feel the rough texture of his jeans against your skin as he shifts, making himself comfortable, his body pressing against yours in the confined space. His hand, warm and commanding, moves from your mouth to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so,” he states, his eyes gleaming, all possession and affection. His words wrap around you like a promise, binding you to this moment, to him.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, the gravity of everything sinking in. Scott’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent command for your complete attention. His other hand slides down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before settling on your waist, pulling you even closer.

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re safe with me.”

Your lashes flutter as a noise sounds in the back of your throat, caught between a plea and a whimper. You trusted Scott more than anything, and knew, without question, without fear, that he would never do anything you didn’t want.

And god, you wanted him bad enough that it ached.

“I need you to understand a few things, honey,” Scott continues, his voice still that deadly calm, his finger dragging slowly down your chin, tracing a deliberate path down the column of your throat. “I can tolerate you being upset. I’m not happy about it, either, despite what you might think.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his gaze lock onto yours, his eyes dark and unwavering. “But what I won’t tolerate,” he says, his tone sharpening as he closes his hand around your throat with a possessive grip, “is your disrespect.”

“But—”

“Shut up.” Scott’s voice is a low, dangerous growl as he tightens his hold on you, his thumb pressing firmly into your pulse. The pressure is confident and calculated — the kind of control that comes from having done this countless times before. “I’m not done.”

Defiance bubbles up and fights Scott at every turn, and despite the way you wriggle under him, your eyes grow hazy with need at the feel of his hand around your throat. God, you knew exactly what those hands were capable of; sweet, delicious torture, doling punishment and reward with equal passion. “But—”

“Why can you never fucking listen?” His voice drops to a growl that vibrates against your ear, his body shifting so that his weight presses down on you. You whimper at the added pressure, your fingers instinctively fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold onto something solid.

Scott notices. With a swift motion, he knocks your wrists away, gripping both of them together with a firm, unyielding hold. When he pins them above your head, possessive and commanding, you can’t help but moan, growing pliant under his weight.

“Maybe I do need to remind you of my rules,” he says, his voice a dangerous purr, “since you seem to like breaking them.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Every word is low and steady, completely in control. “You’re going to pay attention now, aren’t you? You’re going to listen to every word I say.”

Your pulse races under his thumb, the pressure making it difficult to focus on anything other than the commanding presence of his body pressed against yours. The conflicting emotions — fear, need, frustration — swirl together, drawing the breath from your lungs.

Scott’s eyes meet yours again, the dark intensity he’d first set on you softening slightly. “Do you trust me?” He asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, carrying with it both a challenge and an invitation.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. Always.

“Good.” He presses a tender kiss to your temple and cheek, nudging his nose into the curve of your shoulder and kissing the column of your throat. Your body responds in kind, arching up into his generosity, the calm before the storm, as he slowly releases his hold on you. One tap against your wrist is a silent order to keep them there, and you thread your fingers together, looping them into the door grip as he kisses his way back up to your mouth. “Because you’re going to hate me tonight.”

You want to tell him that such a thing is impossible — there was nothing Scott could do that would make you hate him, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was sometimes — but he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. Lifting you up, or at least as much as he can in the truck with his hulking size, Scott draws a hand around the curve of your waist, pushing his jacket aside to expose more of you.

“Take this off.” He orders. His expression melts back into one of superiority, one you’re all too familiar with, and you try not to pout when he continues with, “I changed my mind. I want it back.”

“Want what back?” You hum, fingers twitching. You debate the pros and cons of pointing out that you can’t take off his jacket with your hands still pinned in place, but bite your lip instead. You were already pushing the envelope — a lot — by feigning innocence.

“You know what.” Sensing that you’re still… sort of… listening, Scott, taps your wrist twice, freeing you of your position. Under his tone, your fingers close around the material of his comfortable clothing, lifting to slip it fully off your frame. You drop it next to your stuff with your eyes trained on his. “When I’m convinced you can behave, I’ll consider giving it back.”

That snaps your mouth shut. Pressing your lips together, you nod as you place your hands back in their previous position, the only tell that he’s satisfied by your change of heart being a slight twitch of a smile.

“I didn’t say you were done,” he drags his gaze along the length of you, his touch following where his eyes roam until he hooks a finger around the belt loop of your shorts. “Take these off, too, and turn around.”

Electricity charges through you at the command in his voice. Your movements are slow, careful, as you try not to bump into anything as you slide out from under him and remove your shirt. Your shorts follow, but he stops you as you hook your thumbs under the waist of your panties, both of his large hands sliding on your hips to face you opposite him.

He’s massive against you, your back pressing against his chest as his hands roam freely, trailing up the length of you and then down your arms to place your hands back in their previous position, fingers curling around yours in a silent gesture. And then his touch returns, calloused fingertips dragging over every spot of your soft skin, cupping your breast in his hand as he sighs against your neck.

You feel the hard length of him straining against his jeans as he pulls you to him, every caress coaxing a fire in you. Even though you want nothing more than to touch him, to take him into your hands, he has you caught. You really wanted that jacket.

And you hated disappointing him.

His touch wanders to your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he smooths a hand up your spine, signaling for you to bend over. You comply with shallow breaths, the warmth of him missing when he puts even more space between you.

“How many times do you think you disobeyed me tonight, honey?” He asks, the question making your heart stutter. He continues to knead your skin, but with your angle, you can’t see anything happening behind you. “I’ll let you guess.”

You try to think back, but everything is hazy now. When you got in these moods — which was more often than not — you had a hard time telling which rules were broken and which weren’t, because, well, you tended to do it a lot. And you knew Scott well enough by now that even if you guessed any number, it wouldn’t be specific. It wouldn’t be right. Guess lower, and he’d add more. Guess higher, and he’d use your number, then remind you of the true one after it was all said and done.

A gasp escapes from you as your eyes flutter shut. Fuck. “I– I don’t know, sir.”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he just hums, adjusting the twisted straps of your underwear higher up on your hips. “Thirty-two times.” He lets that sit heavy in the air for a moment, your breath stalling in your throat. “You know what happens when it gets that high, honey.”

“You use the belt,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Scott nods. “Mhm. I use the belt.” The soft, metallic clink of his buckle coming undone is followed by a steady hand against your hip, smoothing circles along your skin as you begin to tremble in anticipation. “Shhh. You know the rules. Count.”

The first point of contact is always the worst. He lets the moment play out, your body tensing and easing as you wait for any sign that it’s coming, but he gives no indication when he stops touching you. And then the sharp sting as leather meets your rear, the folded-over halves biting into you with practiced efficiency.

Your eyes squeeze shut, fingers tightening around the handle as you gasp out, “One.”

By the end, your muscles are taut and your backside is red and flaming, your whimpers spilling freely from your mouth. It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to hold yourself up, trembling with exertion. Scott rubs his hand along your curves, having given equal attention to both cheeks, a content noise sounding in the back of his throat as you still careen toward him.

“Last one, honey. You’re doing so good.” He praises quietly, the only encouragement you need as his belt goes sailing toward you again, leaving another welt in its wake.

“Thirty-two!” Escaping through gritted teeth, you jerk forward with the impact, breathing hard and heavy when you hear the clink of his belt falling to the floor.

Scott taps twice along your stomach as he brings you up to his chest, careful to leave space between you as he smooths over your sore muscles, easing the pain. He presses kisses along your throat, your shoulder, letting you shake against him as you lulls you down from the high, every touch soft and affectionate. “That’s it, I know… Shhh… Did so good for me, honey…”

Each sweet nothing brings you down, continuing to press kisses against your skin until your breathing evens out. Scott sets his hands to your hips, holding you firmly, nudging the space just behind your ear.

“If you just listened, I wouldn’t have to punish you.” He reminds, letting your hands drift over his. Despite the softness of his tone, you still catch the authority seeping through every word, and you know it’s far from over. “I don’t like how you spoke to me today, honey.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you breathe, meaning them truthfully. Scott presses another kiss to your skin in acknowledgment. “I was just upset. I wanted to spend this weekend with you, and—”

“Am I not making this time now?” He questions, cutting you off. When his touch wanders between your thighs, fingers circling your clothed clit, soaked despite his brutal treatment, he groans against you. “What was it you said earlier… That I couldn’t touch you? That you wouldn’t let me?”

Vaguely, through your hazy mind, you remember saying that. But you keep your mouth shut, quiet little noises escaping as he continues to please you, easing away the pain he’d caused. Your desire for him, so neglected because of his orders, coils deep inside you as he recites your perfect tempo — having spent hours exploring, learning, and committing what you enjoyed to memory.

“Let’s make one thing abundantly clear,” he continues. “Every part of you is mine to touch, spank, suck, lick, and fuck as I please. Any time. Any day. Any place. Those are the rules you agreed to. If I want you just like this…” Adding pressure, he holds you up as your knees buckle against him, “I will, for as long as I want. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Your words come out shaky, breath hitching with every skilled circle of his fingers. “I understand, sir.”

“Then show me you understand.” Within a second his touch is gone, leaving you delirious as you search for him. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you, twisting to watch him slip off his shirt, then ease himself down on the backseat with a foot firmly planted on the floor. His fingers hover over the button on his jeans, flipping it open as his dark gaze trains on you. “Come here.”

You comply immediately, drawing forward as his hand slips in your hair. Scott pushes down the restricting fabric, slipping his hand into his black briefs, freeing himself from his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, thick and veiny and dripping with precum, his fist stroking himself as he holds you there, coating his length with his desire.

“Look what you do to me,” he whispers, drinking in every shallow breath, the way your eyes remain fixed on his hand, how your hips stir with every twist like you imagining yourself riding him. “Even when you’re a fucking brat, I can’t get enough of you, honey. Always so fucking hard for you. You have no idea…” He releases himself to cup your chin, spreading himself over the swell of your mouth. You greedily taste what he offers, tongue lapping at him before sucking on the tip of his thumb. “I’d spend an eternity inside you if I could.”

Those words — the claim, the rare admission — makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Without waiting for his command, you crawl between his legs and sink to draw your hand along his jean-clad thigh, a silent plea echoing in your eyes. As he wets his lips, you grip his length in your hand, his girth barely allowing you to wrap fully around him. Scott’s breath hitches as you stroke him exactly how he prefers, your hand sinking lower with each slow, deliberate movement.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, the tip of his cock as pink as his lips, and you pay special attention to it, thumb smoothing along the sensitive underside of him. The soft action has his hips bucking up into your touch, breath hissing between his teeth as he wraps your hair around his fist.

No matter how many times you were in this position, nothing changed how exhilarating it was to have brief a moment of power over him.

When you move to take him into your mouth, your tongue flat and eager, Scott wraps his fingers around your throat, that playful glint in his eyes replacing quickly with hellish intent.

“Did I tell you that you could touch?” He murmurs, releasing his grip on your hair to pluck your hand off him.

You want to point out that he didn’t seem to have a problem with that when he’d been half-thrusting into your hand, but the look in his eyes silences the retort on your lips. So you let him grip your wrist, and your throat, sure he can feel the heavy pound of your pulse as you whimper at the interruption.

“I just want a little taste,” you plead, jutting your bottom lip out and batting your thick lashes up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

Scott just shakes his head. And you feel the coil of defiance begin again.

“Don’t you want my tongue on you, sir? Licking up every thick inch of you? Seeing how much I can take in my hot little mouth?” You know you’re pushing it with how his grip on your wrist tightens, but fuck, you needed to feel him, to touch him, especially after he’d denied you the pleasure of it for so long.

You shift so your free hand wraps around his shaft again. Scott grunts as he watches you play with him, your small hand moving effortlessly along his girth. With both his hands occupied, he has nothing to stop you from doing what you want, what you need, as your gaze flickers down to openly admire his masculinity. “Don’t I look so pretty when I choke on you, baby?”

Despite how his gaze darkens and he twitches in your hand, Scott releases your wrist enough to rest his hand on the edge of the backseat, his brow raising. “You’d look prettier if you listened, sweetheart.”

The condescending nickname rolls through you, your face twisting in disgust at it — he knew you hated it, knew it reminded you of the old men who often tried to make passes at you. It disgusts you enough that you release him from your grip, watching a smile slowly spread on his face.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to sound weak with his fist still around you.

“And I thought I told you to listen, but you don’t seem to be doing a good job of that even after the belt.” He shifts his grip from the front of your neck to the back of it, pulling you closer. “What’s my name?”

You hesitate at how hard his gaze is trained on you. “Sir.”

He nods. “And what did you call me earlier?”

Oh. As the dots connect, realization flickering across your features, Scott’s eyes mirror your understanding. He doesn’t give you a chance to say it, continuing, “Until you can learn to listen, you don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You wait for a day, an end time, something that’ll make counting the days at least a little worthwhile — but it never comes. Instead, he just stares at you, waiting for you to defy him again, waiting for you to open your mouth, to push back. But his fingers twitch like he’s going to reach for his belt again, and the thought of that on your already raw backside makes a whimper escape.

“I understand, sir.”

His gaze softens for a moment — and a small part of you hopes that he changes his mind, that he’ll take it back… But Scott was never that type of man. Once something was final, it was final. No amount of begging or pleading could win your case.

He cups your face in his hands like he knows what he’s asking may push you past your breaking point. Never in the months you’ve been together has he implemented something indefinitely, but you’ve never pushed back this much. When his mouth roams over yours, gentle given the circumstances, you taste the sharp spearmint of his gum as his tongue explores you, soothing your whimpers and whines until you’re somewhat relaxed under his touch.

“Are you going to be a good girl if I let you blow me, honey?” He asks, lips ghosting over your mouth, your jaw, pressing a kiss against the column of your throat. You nod, not trusting your voice. “I mean it. No whining. No pleading. No biting.” His gaze flickers up to yours as a memory passes through both of you, your cheeks heating up, caught. He knew you too fucking well. “If I want you to choke on me, you’re going to choke. If I want you to wrap those pretty lips around my head, you will. And if I want your mouth not on me at all…”

“I’ll listen, sir,” you promise, breathless, squirming with need.

Scott’s eyes flash with approval, pressing one more kiss to your mouth before he settles back down against the leather. You follow, slow, cautious, your hands pressing into his thighs as he grips himself.

And when you wrap your lips around him, everything else fades away. You take him at his pace, slower than you would prefer but dutifully obeying his silent instructions, your hair coiled around his fist. The taste of him on your tongue has your eyes glazing over with desire, flickering up to watch him watch you, your head bobbing around his length, spit sliding down his shaft as he makes you take him deeper, deeper, until he’s hitting the back of your throat and there’s still inches between you.

Scott groans as he pushes you further, trained on how your body instinctively fights him, taking his cock entirely in your mouth when your nose brushes the soft skin of his abdomen. Your core drips with need, soaking your panties, at the guttural sound that escapes him: all masculine and intoxicating. You crave more of it, more of his approval, more of him — but he pulls you off with a pop, a trail of saliva traveling from his swollen head to your mouth, before doing it again and again, each time longer than the last.

“So fucking good,” he pants, pulling you off him again, his eyes blown as you suck on his tip like a lollipop.

Your tongue swirls around his head, wrapping your hands around the rest of him that you don’t swallow, little moans escaping.

And then he’s pressing you back down again, his grip holding you stationary as he thrusts into you like he can’t help himself, every action powerful and erotic as the sound of your throat taking his vigorous pace fills the truck. As he fucks your mouth, you knead your breast in your hand, pinching hard at your nipple when the desire to slip your hand between your thighs nearly overcomes you.

Scott watches it all with a growing arousal, his voice deep as he groans. “Fuck, honey, just like that. Want you to remember this next time you think of talking back,” he says, eyes closing briefly at how good you feel. “So fucking perfect with my cock down your throat. Does that make you hot, honey? Wanna rub that fucking clit while I fuck your face?”

You moan around him in response, something between a yes and a please that sounds more muffled than an actual word. Every time you take him deeper you feel that hot flash of aching desire pulse through you, your blood hot, sure that even through your panties you were dripping all over his leather seats.

The thought has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Scott’s growls turn positively primal as he pulls you off. “Keep making that face and I’m gonna cum right down that pretty throat.” He lifts enough to bring you to your knees, wrapping an arm around you to pull you flush against him as he drags his heavy touch along your naked frame. “You don’t want that, do you, honey? Fuck, I can smell how soaked you are for me.”

He wastes no time as he slips his hand beneath your panties, fingers sliding easily between your slicked folds as he groans. “My dirty girl. You like my filthy fucking mouth, honey, is that it?” Scott pushes a finger inside you, your body arching up into his as you nod, a breathy noise escaping. “Like when I tell you how good you feel? How fucking hard it gets me? How I dream about fucking you every single night when I’m away?”

God, yes. You assumed — but never asked — about what he thought when he couldn’t be near you, but the confirmation that you were on his mind just as much as he was on yours makes you clench around his finger.

“I’m gonna taste you,” Scott promises, his voice ragged. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in the city.”

It’s all the warning you get before he presses you down onto the seat, his mouth capturing yours as he settles atop you. Your body is pliant underneath his, gripping every inch of him, while he trails his mouth along your soft skin. Fuck, you felt like heaven to him — so smooth to his calloused hands.

And you made the prettiest noises when his mouth descended on your nipple, sucking and flicking at the hardened nub before giving equal attention to the other, all too aware of how your hips roll helplessly as he kisses his way down your tummy.

“I love how desperate you get,” he groans, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties, drawing them down your legs. He nudges your legs apart with his nose, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your thigh. Thick fingers spread your folds apart as he takes you in, the touch making you reach for something to hold onto.

“Please,” you whine, running your fingertips along his shoulder, propping yourself up as he sucked a possessive mark into your thigh. Scott just hums, moving to the other, relishing in the sharp intake of breath as he nips at you. “Please make me feel good, sir?”

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks again, blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, his question serious as he nears the apex of your thighs.

You nod, tongue darting out between your lips as his focus momentarily breaks, darting down to watch how his fingers slide effortlessly over you, teasing your clit. “I’ll be good, sir, I swear.” Just as long as he keeps touching you like that, you’ll agree to anything.

Scott hums, playing with you for long enough that you think he’ll tease you into oblivion. But then his tongue darts out. licking a hot stripe up your center, and he groans, and you… You have just enough time to fall back to seat before his mouth is upon you.

The way he claims you with his tongue makes the wait worth it. Scott isn’t shy about feasting on you, his wet fingers slipping to spread your thighs further apart for him, lapping at you like your pussy is a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Every swirl of his tongue, every flick against your clit, every long drag that has you gasping for breath, your mouth falling open while he readjusts his grip to keep you steady.

Scott groans as he collects your desire on his tongue, pulling back enough to revel at how spread open you are for him. He spits, the lewd action making your head spin, before his fingers rub it through your folds, circling your entrance while his other reaches up to knead your breast.

“I wish we had hours for this.” The admission is low in his voice, ragged from claiming you, pressing a kiss to your thigh as you try to still your hips against his torturous fingers. “Just as sweet as I remember, honey. Better. Fuck, you taste so…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, descending upon you again as his mouth attaches to your clit. You cry out at the special attention he gives it, teasing you just right, his tongue swirling and flicking and lips closing around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips move on their own accord, fingers digging into his brown curls as you grind in time with his tongue. Scott gasps as his touch abandons you to stroke himself, the angle uncomfortable in the cramped space of his backseat.

You clamp down on your bottom lip when your orgasm builds faster than you expect it to, hoping to stifle the increase of noise as he brings you closer and closer. Scott just keeps his brutal pace, those dark blue eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“Sir—” Your breath comes out hot when he groans, the vibrations of it nearly toppling you over the edge. You want so desperately to listen, fighting the way he coaxes it quicker, something heady and mischievous sparkling in those eyes, but it’s too much, he’s too much, that invisible rubber band pulling tighter and tighter, your control slipping, the wet sounds of his tongue dragging over your heat too much to bear—

You scream out as Scott pulls away entirely from you, all that tension coiling tight with nowhere to release, and watch helplessly as his expression flickers somewhere between smug and disappointed. You tremble against the loss, little twitches that give away how close you were from disobedience, your whine high and keening.

“Oh, honey, were you close?” Scott coos, his tone full of condescension as he rests his cheek on your thigh, an evil, wicked, vile grin teasing the corners of his mouth. You glare at the dimple in his cheek. “You think I’m dumb enough to not know when you are? That your pussy doesn’t tell me when you’re trying to be quiet? I know all your tells, honey. Every. Single. One.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his palm coming down hard against your open heat. The slap has you spiraling, a cry escaping you as your back arches up off the leather, the pain lingering uncomfortably as your ass grinds against the seat. Scott wastes no time crawling up your body, swallowing all your pitiful noises as you taste yourself on his tongue.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Not tonight, honey.”

Your heart seizes in your chest at the confirmation — having suspected it, but half-hoping that he’d forgive your past sins if you were good enough. Scott just grins, lifting so all his weight isn’t settled atop you, running his hands down the still-twitching frame of your body, pushing his jeans down further as one hand drags along your hip.

“Please?” You beg, taking his face in your hands, blinking big doe eyes up at him. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His confidence in you is unwavering, pausing his movements to give you his undivided attention. One kiss, two, three, to the corner of your mouth, each softer than the last, bringing you down from a high he stole away. “We’ll test those limits properly another time. I have so many ideas…” He trails off with a groan, seeming to think better of listing all the ways he could make you bend to his will. “But you can. And you will.”

A whimper escapes at the finality, but you manage a weak nod. It’s all the encouragement Scott needs to draw your leg around his hip, slotting himself between your parted legs. The weight of him dragging through your slicked folds presses a gasp into his shoulder, your arms sliding around his broad frame.

And then he’s sinking into you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your taut body stretches to accommodate his size.

He’s massive — and delicious and throbbing and every other perfect word in the dictionary as you forget how to breathe, how to think, the more he buries himself inside you. You hear his strangled moan against your neck as your head tosses back, pulling him closer, hissing as he draws back just to press right back into you.

He works you just like that for what feels like hours, pushing and pulling, slow as he presses kisses to your skin, holding your hips steady. You know he’s holding himself back, that he’s letting your body get used to him after so long apart, after little more than a press of his fingers and tongue at your entrance. It makes your heart flutter in your chest — he could have fucked his way ruthlessly through you and you would’ve taken every second of it just the same, but the fact that he pauses to take his time now, to lengthen a moment that he shouldn’t be having in the first place…

God. You loved him.

You both moan as he bottoms out inside you, his hips driving forward just a little further on instinct. “Fucking missed this,” Scott pants, careful as he slides a palm under you, lifting your ass off the seat to thrust inside you again. Your gentle touch trails across his broad shoulders and down his arms, a silent message for him to keep going.

And then he fucks you like he promised.

It’s a combination of everything: the time apart, the time you had left, how neither of you could seem to get close enough to each other. He splits you apart and brings you back together with every snap of his hips, filling you exactly how you need, gasping against each other as you angle up to meet him halfway.

Your mouth presses feverishly to his, the sound of your desperate moans filling the small space against the way your body greedily accepts his. Scott stalls his tempo just enough to pull away, sliding his hands back to your hips to lift you onto him before returning to his brutal pace, the new angle giving you a perfect view of his cock stretching you out.

“Being so good for me,” Scott hums, pleased, his fingers splaying over your belly as he ruts deeper into you. The intensity of it, of him, makes you blink back stars as his heady gaze is trained on yours, grabbing onto him as he continues, “Feels so fucking good, honey, fuck.“

Your eyes slip down to watch as he slides in you, the sight of him hard and coated with your arousal making you moan. Scott grips the back of your neck to keep you there, your body curled up into whatever mold he desires, pressing your knee back to the cushion as he shifts himself closer.

“Dirty fucking girl, you like that?” Scott’s voice turns guttural with how you tighten around him, your pretty moans like music to his ears, “Like watching your little pussy take my cock? Seeing how fucking good I stretch you out?”

You nod, another moan spilling from your mouth, only to whimper when he slides fully out of you. The crude smack of his cock against your clit only makes you hotter, your skin on fire as he plays with you, always in control. “Tell me,” he groans, teasing as he grinds himself against you. “Let me hear you, honey.”

“I love it,” you pant, unable to tear your gaze away from his thick length. You want desperately to reach down and press him where you crave him most, but you resist, fingers curling into fists at his sides as you plead, “Please fill me up, sir, I need it. Need you to fuck me, need you to claim me, need you to make this little pussy all fucking yours, please.”

It’s all Scott needs to press into you again, his pace hard and demanding with your wishes. He slides an arm underneath you to hold you steady, his teeth leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, your collar, pressing moans into your skin with every rough piston of his hips, the sound of skin on skin, and your hard, labored breathing filling the space. And then he’s flipping you over, your hands and knees pressing into the leather as you push back against him, delirious with the new angle as he tugs you up, your back to his chest.

The possessive, strong grip on your waist slides up to knead your breast while he thrusts into you from behind, his lips at your ear, growling every profanity under the sun.

“This what you want, honey?” His hips snap hard into you, the contact against your sensitive ass making your eyes roll back into your head. The mix of the pleasure and the pain he gives you is unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. Scott always finds the perfect balance, his hand sliding between your thighs to tease your clit, your body wanton against him. “Being claimed? Owning you completely?” At your answering moan, he grins. “Could you handle it? Being mine in every way?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying in vain not to swirl your hips and failing, searching for more while he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I’m already yours, sir.”

“Yeah, honey, I feel it.” They come out strangled as you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to every touch. “So sweet right now, aren’t you? Wanna cum so badly, don’t you?” You whimper out as he angles himself deeper inside you, hitting that spongey spot in time with his ministrations. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, as he finds the perfect pace to drive you closer to the edge, dangling just on the precipice of release. “Bet you’d agree to anything right now just to cum, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Head tossing back against his shoulder, you dig your nails into his jeans where you hold him to you, looking at but not seeing the reflection of how he commands you, his mouth drawing along your neck. “Please,” you beg, trembling with the exertion of holding yourself together. “Scott— Sir, please, I’m so close—”

“I know.” Cooed, mockingly, along the column of your throat, he ceases every torturous move as he stills inside of you, his hands quick to press your hips down against his. The sudden lack of attention makes you cry out, chest heaving, as he steals your orgasm away again, the frustration and desire mixing until you’re growling through clenched teeth.

Scott just grins, watching it all with a gleeful expression, that dark look swirling in his eyes as he doesn’t dare move an inch. “You can be as nice as you want, honey,” He presses a patronizing kiss to your shoulder, that alone having you twitching against him, small little sounds that you can’t control escaping as he toys with your fraying edges. “I’m still not letting you cum tonight.”

“But—” You think better against talking back, clamping your mouth shut as you whimper again. “When?”

“When you’ve earned it.” Scott slides his hands over your body, dragging along your peaked nipples, taking both breasts in his large hands and groaning as he touches you. “You want to earn it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp automatically, your hands fisting handfuls of his brown locks as he sucks another possessive mark on you. “Please, sir.”

“How far would you go?” His voice carries that inquisitive tone that speaks of danger, the kind that has your cunt fluttering around him in response. He grunts against you at the sensation, still unmoving, just thick and hard and throbbing in you enough to leave your mind reeling. Your breath stalls when his touch wanders down to press at your belly. “Would you let me cum inside you?”

Every thought in your brain scatters at those words, wanting and needing before you can even voice it. He’s never asked; always pulling out to paint your chest, your back, your face. But the way he asks, his voice quiet yet desperate, the unmistakable edge to it that tells you he’s been thinking about it for a while, waiting for the right time, the right moment — suddenly his insistence on if you’d brought your birth control comes to the front of your mind, and you know. Know he’s been planning this. That if it weren’t here, it would’ve been sometime this weekend.

Scott is patient as he lets it all sink in, studying you, waiting for a shift of an expression, or your body responding against his desires. Something dark awakens in him at your whimper of approval.

“You’d look so fucking pretty like that,” he continues, slowly resuming his pace, much slower now than it was before, as he groans every fantasy he’s dreamt of for the past week into you. “So full of my cum… It wouldn’t all fit, would it, honey? But you’d beg me, wouldn’t you? Beg me to fuck it deeper in your sweet cunt?” Your breath labors as he grunts out, teeth sinking into your skin. “Beg me to put a baby in you?”

Fuck, yes.

You writhe against him with every word out of his mouth, your moans spilling freely as you nod, desperate, agreeable, unaware of how much he wanted it, obsessed about it. How the sight of you in his clothes made him want to put a ring on your finger, how every time you came over to his place he had to fight to ask you to move in, how the idea of your belly swollen with his child made him so horny he couldn’t think about anything else some days, how the thought of you and forever were so intertwined to him now that he couldn’t imagine anyone else to spend the rest of his life with.

All sappy, sentimental things that he didn’t dare voice, locked tight between his teeth, letting only a little spill out.

The need to own you, to claim you, was overwhelming. Scott wanted nothing more than to fuck you hard enough to make your brain flicker off until you couldn’t even speak, until you were completely at his mercy, until every drop of him was spent inside you. Possession and desire bleed into one — just waiting, aching, throbbing, bruisingly so, for your voiced consent.

“I need it,” you finally choke out, trembling, your voice utterly broken. “Please give it to me, sir? Please, please, pretty please?”

Scott moans, long and deep and loud, as he buries his face in the curve of your neck. And then he’s pounding into you, every muscle of his body pulled tight as you wrap around him like velvet perfection, his grip hard and unyielding against your hips as every rough slam of his hips into yours sends your body jolting forward. Your hand slaps to the window in front of you, leaving prints against the foggy glass, and he follows greedily, pressing his weight into you as he spreads your thighs further apart with a growl, fucking you into the seats.

Your orgasm painfully lingers, every needy moan spilling from your mouth only driving him further into you, wild with need, no longer the controlled man you knew but something more animalistic, primal.

“Fucking take it just like that,” he growls, not even sounding human, every word gritted through his teeth as you feel every thick inch of him around your slick walls, his hand slotted between your thighs to part your folds, sinking deeper until there’s no space left. “F-fuck, that’s so fucking— Perfect, honey, fuck— Pussy’s fucking made for me—”

He’s close — you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow uneven as he chases his release, the way he roughly grasps your chin to kiss you, sloppy and more tongue than lips, how his fingers leave Scott-shaped bruises wherever he grips you, his blunt nails biting into your hip, your sides, your breasts as he struggles for purchase. You don’t realize you’re sobbing in pleasure until he wipes your tears away, until he praises how good you’re being taking him like this, groaning when your body responds eagerly to his positivity.

You dance in time with him, meeting him halfway, angling your hips up just right. And you feel, rather than hear, the way Scott moans in ecstasy as he finds that perfect spot in your heat, numb to anything and everything that isn’t his thick cock pounding your weeping, used hole.

You think you cum — or maybe it’s just the last shreds of sanity leaving as Scott reaches his peak, nothing but your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you with his seed, rutting up against you until it’s painful, the warmth of him spreading into you. His heart pounds against you as he slips his hand to your belly, pressing you closer, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as his hips twitch until he’s emptied out, fucking the last drops of his cum into you exactly like he’s dreamt.

And when you come down your orgasm sits uncomfortably high and untouched, a broken sob escaping you as he pulls out with a wet pop.

You feel his cum slide down your swollen cunt and flinch with sensitivity as he’s quick to collect himself on his fingers, fucking it back into you. The tension coils tightly inside of you until you’re sure you’re begging him to stop, the pleasure and pain completely overwhelming, exhausted with the effort of obeying his orders as he presses his digits into your used hole.

When you think just about to break, he stops.

And you know you’re going to kill him as he steals your release for a third time.

“Good girl,” Scott whispers, pressing kisses along your soft skin, his hands soothing every part of your twitching frame. You don’t have the strength to ask for more as he pulls you into his arms after sliding your panties back into place, letting you come down as he finds his peace in caring for you, murmuring sweet nothings while your body is pliant against him.

You nuzzle into him when you feel more in control of yourself, your heart slowing to a more steady pace. His name falls softly from your lips, your arms snaking around him to hold him close, his fingertips soft along the small of your back.

When he presses his mouth to yours, you melt into his embrace, exploring him lazily until he’s pulling away, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. “Mine.” He praises with a smile, that dark expression gone, leaving nothing but bright, shining blues you could drown in for hours. “All fucking mine. I own you.”

“Mmm,” Despite the weary in your bones, you can’t help but smile back, a giggle escaping, “Do you?”

Scott doesn’t need to slip his hand between your legs for you to get the picture, just hooks a finger along the waistband of your ruined panties. “You just let me prove it, honey.” He leans forward to kiss you again, slower this time, before pulling away with a regretful sigh when the distinctive chime of his phone goes off. “Need help getting back in your seat?”

“Already?” You whine.

“Gotta go, honey.” He taps your hip, twice. Non-negotiable. “Come on, before the bears smell you and want you for themselves.”

That has you cracking a grin. “You wouldn’t fight a bear for me?”

“What do you think the murder kit is for?” One last kiss to your mouth. “’Course I would. Just not tonight.”

You pout further, but let him grab your long-forgotten clothes off the floor, making yourself presentable again before he does the same. And when you settle back into the passenger seat as he starts the engine, you let your head rest against the window, bubbly and content and happy. Even if you know it won’t last when he has to leave.

As Scott drives through the familiar city streets, you hate the knot of apprehension that clogs your throat when your mind wanders too far about him being gone. Out on the field, anything could happen, even if it was just one of his routine visits. The people he spoke with — if he approached the wrong one, it would be so easy for them to lash out. Scott was a big man, he could take care of himself, but that didn’t stop your fears from pressing down against you.

His hand is firm on your thigh, thumb stroking soft lines in your skin as he catches your expression. And then his truck takes a turn in the opposite direction of your apartment, heading toward his house.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion as you try to shake off your emotions.

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens just a fraction, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “My place,” he answers simply. “You’ve been up all night, and I’m not about to drop you off and leave you alone like that.”

You frown, the earlier emotions fighting to come back; you glance quickly out the window, cheeks flaming as you’re caught, hating that he’d noticed your weakness. “I’m fine, Scott. I can—”

“No,” he cuts in gently, but firmly. “You need rest. And I’ll rest better knowing you’re somewhere comfortable.” His eyes flick toward you, catching your reflection in the dim light of the street lamps. “Besides,” he adds, his voice lowering to something more intimate, “I’ve got a bed that’s been missing you.”

It’s not a request, and the way he says it makes your heart skip. You know he’s right. As much as you’d wanted to protest, the thought of sleeping alone in your own bed feels wrong, especially with the lingering warmth of his touch still buzzing under your skin.

By the time you pull into his driveway, the familiar sight of his place is almost a comfort in itself. Scott’s fingers brush over your thigh before he parks the truck, a silent reassurance. “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he murmurs, shutting off the engine, “but I want you here. I want you safe.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with a meaning he’s too stubborn to say out loud, but you feel it all the same. He reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nod, unable to find the words, so you just lean into his touch. Scott doesn’t need more than that. He’s out of the truck and rounding it to your side before you can even blink, opening your door and offering his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he says softly, tugging you out and pulling you close against him. His arm slips around your waist as he guides you to the front door, his hold steady and reassuring.

Once inside, the warmth of his home envelops you both, and you feel the tension in your shoulders start to melt away. He’s quick to guide you to his bedroom, knowing the layout of his place better than anyone, but still taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable, handing you one of his shirts to sleep in.

As you slip under the covers, Scott pauses at the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on you. “Get some sleep,” he tells you, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You reach for him, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide in beside you, pulling you against his chest. For a moment, you both just lie there, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothing you into a drowsy haze. Scott presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively over your hip.

“Sleep, honey,” he murmurs, his voice the last thing you hear before sleep claims you.

In the morning, you wake to the sound of his alarm, the room still dark. Scott’s already dressed, but he hasn’t left yet. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a softness in his eyes that he rarely lets show. He reaches out, brushing his fingers through your hair as you try to rustle yourself awake.

“Go back to sleep,” he says quietly, his thumb grazing your cheek. “I’ll be back in a few days. Promise.”

Before you can respond, he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his lips. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you drift back into a peaceful slumber, the last thing you feel is the comforting weight of his hand slipping from yours.

When you finally rise, well rested but achey from the night’s exertions, the sun is high in the afternoon sky and his house is empty, his truck missing from the garage. You wander into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea, pulling the kettle out from underneath his cabinet. And when the steaming mug is in your hands, settling into the breakfast nook that overlooks his backyard, your eyes fall upon his jacket, folded neatly atop all the stuff he’d unpacked while you were sleeping.

And you know he loves you as much as you love him.

#twisters #twisters x reader #scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #scott (twisters)#scott (twisters) x reader #scott miller #scott miller x reader #scott twisters x you #scott twisters x y/n #scott miller x you #*fic #**#fic: roadtrip.

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alwaysmoncheri · 7 months

Text

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 | 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

summary: spencer gets drunks and you offer to take him home. your intentions are clear, you long for him to offer you to stay, but when you do, your relationship becomes more unclear.

cw: fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, drunkenness, drunken confessions, general confessions, kissing, mutual pinning, idiots in love, some angst, fluff, lightly proofread, 3.7k words

the crowd of people in the bar is unexpected, normally there aren’t many people lined across the countertops, snapping their fingers for drinks. it appears that you and the rest of the team have caught the bar at a particularly busy time. you have never been one for bars or alcohol, but whenever the team decides to all go out together, you always find yourself making an exception. after all, who were you kidding? you could use a little distraction from your lingering feelings for a certain pretty boy, genius.

the entire team sits around a table, nose buried in each of their hands of cards as you compete in an intense game of poker. the air is warm and you can feel each piece of clothing uncomfortably sticking to your stick like a humid summer day. you shift in your seat, bringing one hand away from your cards and to the edge of your tight shirt, carefully pealing it away from your perspirating skin. and though, you meant to erase him from your mind, if only for one night, spencer peeks up from behind his hand of cards, noticing your sudden movement. and when he tilts his head to one side, the motion sending you a silent question, asking “are you okay?” you can’t help but adore him for everything that he is. with a gentle nod in his direction, you silence his worries, before returning to your game of cards without the rest of the team’s knowledge of your interaction.

"and I win!" morgan’s sudden and triumphant declaration echoes through the room, the resounding slap of his cards hitting the table punctuating his victory. a cocky grin adorns his face, reveling in the satisfaction of his unexpected triumph. the rest of the team, caught off guard, let out a chorus of exasperated groans, their cards dropping onto the table with defeated thuds, and frowns of disbelief etched on their faces. morgan, seizing the opportunity to revel in his victory, turns his attention to spencer, who had been the reigning champion in the previous few games and, truth be told, usually emerges victorious in most gaming scenarios. "would you look at that? pretty boy must've lost his touch," morgan teases, a mischievous glint in his eye as he playfully nudges spencer.

spencer, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events, sits there with his mouth agape, his usually quick and analytical mind momentarily stunned by the twist in the game. the unexpected defeat has him grappling with a mix of surprise and amusement, and he blinks in disbelief as if trying to process what just happened.

"cat got your tongue, reid?" morgan continues to taunt, while you and the rest of the team watch, amused, fond smiles cast upon your faces as the friendly banter unfolds.

"must be all those drinks," hotch quips, his tone playfully accusing as he crosses his arms in the seat next to spencer, "starting to cloud that genius brain of yours."

you playfully roll your eyes before spencer calmly counters, "i've only consumed a total of five drinks, which technically wouldn't be enough for the neurotransmitters in my brain to stop fully functioning. they could be slowed down, but I'm still fully capable of winning a game of cards at this stage in the evening." a ripple of laughter and teasing remarks follows spencer's scientific explanation, the team thoroughly enjoying the conversation. you, hotch, rossi, and prentiss exchange amused glances.

morgan, chuckling at spencer’s very sober response, quips, "okay, it's time for you to have another drink."

spencer raises an eyebrow, contemplating the proposal. "but first, I demand a rematch."

the room erupts in a mix of cheers and groans as the team anticipates another round. penelope, observing from the sidelines, can't help but interject with enthusiasm, "oh, this is getting good! i’ve got my money on reid for the rematch!"

morgan sends penelope a look of faux offence, before returning his attention to spencer with a challenge, "whoever loses, drinks the same number of shots as the highest card in their hand."

spencer considers the terms before nodding in agreement, "deal."

"alright, I think it's time for me to grab another drink," emily declares, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she stands from her seat. she turns her attention to you, a playful glint in her eyes, "care to join me?"

you can't help but laugh in response, the invitation exactly what you need. glancing over at spencer, you notice his keen observation, as if he's scrutinizing your every move. you playfully divert your attention, standing up with a grin. "sure, why not?" you reply, the corners of your mouth turning up.

as you follow emily toward the bar, you observe the clinking of glasses and the hum of conversations surround you, and the lively energy of the bar becomes more apparent. the dim lighting casts a warm glow on the faces of the maybe people all around, creating an inviting feeling that contrasts with the intense focus of the card game.

“so, what’s going on between you and reid?” emily asks nonchalantly, as if the question wouldn’t have the effect on you. she slides you a drink across the countertop before grabbing her own and taking a small sip. you body tenses in response to the question and you don’t want to know what color your cheeks must be.

“what do you mean?” you ask, trying to ignore that fact that you can’t seem to compose yourself. emily raises her eyebrows, shooting you a look of disbelief.

“I mean, pretty boy over there, hasn’t stopped glancing over here since we left,” emily explains, her words prompting you to turn your gaze towards spencer and the rest of the team. true to emily’s observation, spencer’s eyes are fixated on you, the intensity of his gaze evident even from across the room, “and I’m pretty sure he’s losing.” emily adds, a small smirk resting on her face and the two of you watch as morgan, once again, slams his cards onto the table with a victorious smile.

“oh, I don’t think that’s because of me.” you reply quietly, trying to downplay the situation. your gaze shifts back to your drink as you swirl the glass around in your hand and watch the liquid flow.

“are you sure?” emily questions, her eyes twinkling with mischief and her posture relaxed yet keenly attuned to the movements of the conversation.

“I mean, yeah, we like each other,” you admit, looking up at emily’s smirk, which is accentuated by a slight tilt of her head, before quickly dismissing it away, “but not like that.”

“but you want it to be, like that.” emily suggests and you don’t respond, confirming her suspicions. the weight of emily's words lingers in the air as the two of you watch the team hand spencer drinks, the effects of the shots he's taking becoming increasingly evident. the atmosphere is charged with unspoken tension, and you find yourself caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

“I don’t know what I want.” you finally confess, answering emily’s last question with your eye lingering on spencer’s drunken self.

“I think you do.” emily responds, her voice gentle but probing, “but I don’t think he does.”

“emily, I–” you start to respond, urgency to end the conversation evident in your tone, but before you can, emily interrupts.

“oh, it looks like he’s coming over.” she says, her eyes widening with anticipation and her smirk evergrowing on her face.

“what?” the sudden realization sparks a flurry of movement within you, a mix of nerves and excitement intertwining as you prepare for the impending interaction.

“i’ll leave you to it.” emily grins, giving you a supportive pat on the shoulder before slipping away into the crowd.

“hi,” spencer greets and you can practically hear the amount alcohol he has consumed within the tone of his voice. it isn’t the same shy tone that you know and love, there’s a little more sweetness and a slight edge of confidence embracing his voice.

“hi, spence.” you respond, your eyes meeting his in a moment that seems suspended in time.

“you’re so pretty,” spencer suddenly slurs, expressing his admiration with sincerity as he hops on the stool next to you and slumps over the edge of the bar, “you’re always so, so beautiful.” he sighs with a soft smile. you hum in agreement, sipping on your drink as you watch spencer with loving amusement.

“you know, you’re my favorite person ever.” he adds, before his eyes widen suddenly and he leans forward, gesturing for you to lean with him, “but don’t tell morgan, he thinks it’s him.” spencer whispers, earning a loud cackle from you. that seems to make spencer happy, earning that kind of reaction, even if he’s too drunk to truly understand what he’s saying.

“I love your laugh.” spencer’s words spill out with a warmth that feels like a comforting embrace in the dimly lit bar. his eyes, glazed but loving, reflect a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings.

“spencer, honey, how much have you had to drink?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. in response, spencer clumsily grasps your hand, his fingers fumbling to intertwine with yours. the touch is a blend of affection and intoxication, and you can't help but smile at the endearing sight.

“shh, shhh, you can’t tell anyone,” spencer replies with a giggle escaping his lips, it makes your heart race and sends a delightful shiver down your spine, “I lost another round of cards.”

“oh, spence, I think it’s time for you to go home,” you suggest gently, running your thumb across his hand, “do you want me to take you?”

“would you?” spencer’s eyes widen with a hopeful glimmer, lifting his head before a soft curl falls onto his sweaty forehead, “I hate taking the bus alone.” spencer admits, his eyes glistening, almost as if he’s about to cry.

“let me give you a ride, spencer.” you offer, your voice carrying a soothing reassurance, “you shouldn’t ever have to take the bus alone.”

“I know, I know.” spencer replies quietly, feeling ashamed, before you reach out with the hand not holding his to brush a loose curl away from his face.

“alright, let’s go.” you say, gently standing and guiding him towards the exit of the bar, “do you have all your things?” you ask, stopping to face spencer to see his response. he nods, squeezing you hand, before you smile and walk towards the table where the rest of the team sits in order to grab your purse from your chair.

“hey guys, we’re heading out. I have to get him home safely.” you announce to your teammates, sending them a gracious smile, thankful for the night out, “we’ll see you in the office on monday.”

a series of goodbyes and drive safes echo from your teammates as you allow spencer to hold your hand and lean on your shoulder for stability. together, you make your way out of the bar and towards your car. unlocking the door, you assist spencer into the passenger seat before settling into the drivers seat and taking a moment to reach over to buckle spencer in.

“I can do that myself.” spencer protests, attempting to push your hands away with sluggish movements.

“sure you can.” you retort, a gentle smile playing at your lips as an annoyed, “hmph,” leaves spencer’s mouth.

the drive to his apartment is marked by a comforting quietness, the soft hum of the engine interweaving with the occasional murmurs from spencer. when you arrive, you jog over to the passage door, eager to assist him as you navigate the stairs together. reaching his apartment door, spencer retrieves his keys from his pocket, his attempts to unlock the door met with visible frustration. recognizing the need to intervene, you gently step in, placing your hand over his, “hey, hey, let me help you.” you whisper giving spencer a sympathetic smile before he allows you to take his keys and unlock the apartment door.

“thank you, y/n.” spencer says, letting go of your hand to take a step into his apartment, while you stand just outside.

“you’re welcome, spence.” you respond gently.

the two of you stand there for a moment, locked in each other’s gaze. but, the silence is too much, you can’t handle the truth of what you and spencer are and are not.

“I guess I should—” you start, but the hesitation in those few words lights a match of hope in spencer’s heart and he can’t help but interrupt.

“don’t go.”

“what?”

“stay.” spencer says with such emotion that your heart feels like it’s about to stop. and when he reaches out for you to take his hand once more, you don’t hesitate.

“yeah.” you nod, stepping through the doorway and into spencer’s apartment, “yeah, I can do that.” you repeat, taking in the space before you. it looks all too familiar to times that you’ve been before, warmth, inviting, just like him.

before you can engage in any conversation, spencer's sluggish movements guide the two of you towards his bedroom. he briefly releases your hand to sift through his drawers, searching for a set of less damp clothes to wear for the remainder of the night.

"feel free to use the bathroom," spencer mumbles, his words slightly slurred as he gestures in the direction of the adjacent room. the soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm hue, revealing the disheveled state of his bedroom.

in the bathroom, you peel the sweaty material from your skin, feeling the immediate relief of shedding the remnants of a night spent in a crowded bar. the mirror reflects your image, and you assess yourself. the makeup, meticulously applied before the evening's festivities, shows signs of wear. small smudges underneath your eyes and imperceptible flaws on your face catch your attention. you find a washcloth and gently wipe away the remnants of the night, revealing the natural contours of your features.

returning to spencer's room, you find him seated on his bed, his gaze fixed on his lap as his fiddles with his hand. the room is dimly lit, shadows playing on the walls like silent spectators to the unfolding scene. spencer glances up as you enter, his eyes carrying a mix of longing and fatigue.

“stay, with me, please," spencer practically begs, his words carrying a weight of vulnerability that echoes through the room.

"okay," you find yourself saying, the decision flowing from your lips with zero hesitation.

silently, the two of you climb into his bed, laying side by side. your gazes linger on each other for a moment too long, the air thickens and you find yourself momentarily breathless. as you notice spencer lean toward you, searching of your lips, you feel as though your heart beating out of your chest, the rapid movement making my breath catch. but when he kisses you, you know you’re an absolute goner.

his lips are soft and his kiss is gentle, so gentle, like he’s afraid if he kisses too hard, you’ll break. but when you pull away, the realization of spencer's drunken state washes over you.

"I love you," he confesses, the abruptness of his words catching you off guard. your eyes soften with sympathy, understanding that his declaration was led by intoxication.

"oh, spencer," you hum, reaching forward to gently cup his face, which he tenderly leans into. "tell me when you're sober."

"okay," he murmurs, a whisper of agreement that lingers in the air, before the both of you wrap in each other’s arms and spencer falls into a comforting sleep. yet, you lie awake for moment, questions about your relationship clouding your mind, until finally you give in and fall asleep too.

—

the morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room. as you slowly regain consciousness, a dull ache pulses through your head, the sign of a mild hangover. the warmth of the body beside you serves as a gentle reminder of the events that unfolded the previous night, and a rush of memories floods your mind. you glance at spencer, and you can’t help but notice the furrowed brows on his forehead, confirming your suspicions of a major hangover of his own. the desire to kiss away his discomfort lingers, an unspoken gesture to alleviate the tension etched on his face. however, uncertainty about the nature of your relationship holds you back, even after the intimate connection you shared last night.

silently, you slip out of the bed, careful not to disturb spencer's peaceful slumber. the soft creak of the door announces your departure as you head to the bathroom, intent on changing back into your own clothes. spencer's clothes, a reminder of the night's events, lay neatly on his dresser. the room retained the echo of shared laughter and whispered conversations, leaving you in a contemplative state.

once dressed, you tiptoe through the hushed space and navigate through the familiar halls of spencer's apartment. in the kitchen, you leave a glass of water, a tylenol, and a quick note on the counter, a small offering to soothe the aftermath of the night. with each passing moment, your thoughts swirl like leaves caught in a gentle breeze. questions about the nature of your relationship with spencer remain, and the quiet house seems to hold the weight of those unanswered queries. you hesitate before leaving, casting a final glance at the still-sleeping spencer, his vulnerability exposed in the morning light.

summoning a cab, you venture back to your own apartment, the familiar surroundings offering a respite from the whirlwind of emotions. the click of your keys on the kitchen counter echoes through the space, and you collapse onto the couch with a sigh. running a hand down your face, you lean back against the cushions as you repeatedly replay the events of the previous night in your mind.

—

monday morning unfolds with a swiftness that catches you off guard, a reminder that the enjoyment of the weekend has drawn to a close. seeking solace, you head to the bau office early, hoping to avoid spencer, at least for the time being. the comforting hum of the coffee machine beckons, and you find yourself mechanically preparing a cup to ready yourself for the day ahead. a yawn escapes, betraying the exhaustion that lingers from the weekend. as the rich aroma of coffee envelops you, a familiar chuckle interrupts your thoughts.

"how was the rest of your weekend, gorgeous?" morgan inquires, his tone light-hearted, though you can sense a mischievous undertone.

you roll your eyes in response, leaning back against the counter with the warm cup cradled in your hands. "it was good."

morgan, undeterred, pours himself a cup of coffee and continues his interrogation, a sly grin on his face. "and your night with reid? how is pretty boy treating you?"

your eyes widen before narrowing in suspicion. "what do you know?" you question, the accusatory edge in your tone not lost on morgan. he raises his free hand in defense, a playful shrug accompanying his innocent expression.

"hey, I was just wondering," morgan replies before taking a sip of his coffee. "it's obvious that you two like each other," he adds slyly, leaving you momentarily stunned, echoing the shock from your recent conversation with emily.

"no, it's not," you retort, your gaze still narrow as you fight to defend your emotions.

"whatever you say, sweetheart," morgan comments, walking away, leaving you standing by the coffee machine, your mind swirling with the weight of recent revelations.

as you ponder emily's words, spencer's drunken confession, and morgan's casual observations, the scent of books and wool approaches beside you. your heart skips a beat in anticipation of the impending conversation.

“hey, can we talk?” spencer asks, his voice regaining its sweet, shy tone, replacing the confident echoes of his intoxicated self. the smell of books, wool, leather, and a hint of coffee instead of the burning scent of alcohol. his gentle smile and shy gaze. his curls tucked perfectly behind his ears, and his form tall instead of slouched toward the ground. you prefer him this way—sober, gentle, sincere.

“um, yeah. yeah, we can talk.” you nod, each word a conscious effort to maintain composure.

“look, we can pretend I never said what I said if that means—”

your eyes widen with shock before you interrupt, “what? no! you can’t take it back!” you almost yell, catching the attention of a few of your teammates, who are walking around the office, files in hand.

“then I don’t really know what to do,” spencer admits, his vulnerability laid bare, “because I meant it, y/n. I love you and I’ll say it a thousand times even if it means that we aren’t friends anymore. and I want you to know I haven’t stopped thinking about you all weekend but I thought you needed space. and—”

“I love you, too, spence.” you confess, stopping spencer’s rant from going any further, and ending any confusion between the two of you.

spencer's face lights up, delight evident in his expression. "really?" he asks, and a giggle escapes your lips as you revel in his excitement, mirroring your own bubbling joy.

"yes, really," you respond, placing your cup of coffee on the counter. spencer takes a couple of quick strides towards you, a beaming smile seemingly etched permanently on his face.

"can I kiss you?" spencer boldly asks, his excitement momentarily overriding his usual composure. you nod, and spencer gently grasps your face, his palms pressing against your cheeks as he kisses you in such way that tells you he’s been wanting to for a very long time. when you pull away, wide smiles adorn both of your faces, the giddy excitement, like a child’s, taking over your senses and it’s not long before your lips are on his once more.

“wheels up in ten,” hotch’s voice suddenly interrupts, jolting you back to reality. both you and spencer pull away, cheeks flushed with embarrassment of being caught by your boss, “and I better not see any more of that in my office.” hotch adds sternly, shooting you each a pointed look.

“yes, sir.” spencer nods nervously, casting you a quick glance, while hotch’s gaze also turns towards you.

you offer a shrug, glancing at spencer with a soft smile, “i’m not making any promises.”

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @ihrtmasong, @averyhotchner, @jordie-gvf, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites

#my works ──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !!#masterlist #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid scenario

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jayden-killer · 7 months

Text

Greediest man in the Stone World.

summary: you've just being awaken by your old friend and classmate, Senku, in a whole new human era. But, who's this young guy claiming you as his? a/n: waahh, i sincerly apologise if i disappeared...again. i literally forgot my tumblr writing page, and life took a.. strange turn of events(?) kinda. i hope this first ryusui one shot will make me forgive!!!

☆

Dark. And then... a golden beam of light passed through my eyes, blinding me. My muscles began to melt. I felt them sore, as if I had slept in an uncomfortable position all night. Or maybe, for three thousand and fifty years. This was what was brought back to me when I woke up from that sleep I thought was eternal. The first thing my eyes noticed when they hatched was a blinding sun. There was so much green. So much vegetation was not seen even in the well-preserved jungles. Then, a group of boys with familiar and unfamiliar faces. My eyes met his.

"Senku..?"

I uttered that name in a subtle tone of voice, and the boy did nothing but address to me that mischievous grin of his own.

"Yoh, Y/N...we need your help".

[ Time skip...(*ゝω・)ﾉ ]

"So... you need my dexterity in putting these little pieces together so you can build, um... Repeat it, thank you".

"An oxygen tank" Senku rest, without even thinking of getting that smirk off his face.

His attitude hadn’t disappeared after 3,500 years. Not even when he claimed in front of a professor that their speeches were meaningless.

Here we go again...

Between a sigh and the other I immediately set to work, while in the distance I heard Senku arguing with what seemed to be his colleague.

Just in the middle of my work I felt someone touching my shoulder gently. A delicate touch, like that of a… "Child?" The girl in question wore a watermelon helmet on her head, with lenses inserted in the two holes that created a space for the eyes. She made a sound of wonder, her hands to her mouth.

"So, you are new here!" With a confused look I lowered myself to her level, able to have a face-to-face conversation with the little creature. " I suppose so..? And you are...?" That little girl who didn’t immediately show her intentions and courage was pretty to say the least. "Suika wanted to welcome you to the Science Team!" she said clearly, now showing me her hand to shake her. I took her, and with a kind smile, I accepted her request. "How kind of you! Since I am now a new addition to your team, can I have the honor to meet my future colleagues and companions?"

Little Suika nodded happily, running in the opposite direction where I was working. Heck. Maybe it was me who was no longer a child like her, but Suika seemed really fast in the race, not giving me a chance to keep up. I didn’t know where he was taking me; we passed through several huts, erected on wooden structures, running as if someone was after us.

The only one chasing her was me. Looking back to see if we’d actually drifted apart, my foot tripped on a double-sized rock. The collision with the stone made me lose my balance; I was ready to crash on the dirty ground and have some bruises all over my face for a few days. Only that never happened. In the instant that I was about to feel my face against the damp soil, two arms wrapped my waists not too strong, but with determination, preventing me from slipping a second time. I didn’t even realize I closed my eyes. "It’s not even the first day you’re back here on Earth, and you were destined to get hurt. Pff, not very convenient for our team, huh?"

A moment later my eyes sprang to meet his, and those eyes reminded me of an autumn now close to winter. " Well, lady killer, now you might as well put me down. I’m not meant to be your princess." I said authoritatively. His powerful arms let go of my body, and with a little thump my butt bounced off the ground.

What an idiot!

Not only was he now laughing at me with a fat laugh, as if I had just said the funniest joke on Earth, but he didn’t even deign to preseed himself! The blond slightly lowered his head, as I was still on the ground, and with an energetic voice he replied: "Not yet", later going in the opposite direction, with firm step. Oh, what kind of weird I had in front…

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

"Become mine! With all my Drago you would become the luckiest woman in the world!"

Somebody kill me...

It had been two months since I had made my unexpected (better to say, unlucky) acquaintance with blondie, who had the name of Ryusui Nanami. With his egocentrism and sheer avarice, he had proved to be one of the most promising members of the Kingdom of Science so far, with great skills for navigation. Apparently he came from one of the wealthiest families in Japan, and he certainly had not lost the habit of being indulged in everything, even after 3,500 years. And since our first meeting, he hasn’t stopped trying once. On every occasion he would give me his flirtations comments (sometimes shabby), he would become handsy, or he would try to buy me with his stupid Drago.

I was not one of those women who was so easily deceived, especially if a situation was about money. He thought I would give in so easily. I was so determined to prove to him the opposite, during these months, that this would give him up. With a gesture of the hand, I pushed him away. " I’m sorry, Ryusui. As I’ve explained many times before, I’m not interested." I took a dramatic break. ".. to you."

He whined loudly like a little baby, fogetting his money behind to get close to me. "You’re making a mistake!" "I have made many mistakes in my life," I answered sharply. "Then add another to your long list." I nailed him down with my sharp look, sketching a tight smile. Nothing to do. That man would never wave the white flag in the sky. However, it was becoming a nuisance, and having it close to me like a fin was starting to run out. For the worse. I had only one idea that could have saved me in that instant, from a near future in which he was no longer clinging to me like an octopus: make him believe he had a chance with me. A bold idea; nevertheless, it had to be tried. Either it will make it or break it. "Maybe, in the future, you might have a chance…" I implied in a vague tone, already heading somewhere, any, to get him off my back. I could swear to see his eyes shining remarkably with hope, and a new fire, fueled by determination.

He snapped his fingers, his iconic gesture that everyone, by now, had learned to recognize, and if he did, it was because he decided to do something. There were no roads back. "HA-HA!" His laughter seemed to flow throughout the Ishigami village. Even Senku and Chrome turned to us, with confused scowls, to see what was so funny at the time. But Ryusui found nothing amusing in this situation, except a challenge to complete.

"So be it! I’ll show you how much I’m willing to change your mind. Anything to get the chance to become yours!"

Though I did not turn to look at him, once again, his muscular arms clasped my waists, turning my body to meet his. Face to face. "You, damned Nanami, what do you want now?!" That gesture had taken me by surprise, because he was not used to come so near me, but with his cheeky smile, he kissed me on both the cheeks. A quick gesture that made me blush remarkably in my face, almost to feel it burn under the palms of my hands. "What the f...?!" "You don’t know it, but you’re already mine!"

#dr. stone #senku #dr stone x reader #ryusui nanami #ryusui nanami x reader #senku ishigami #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #ryusui x reader #anime imagines #anime and manga #anime x reader #gen asagiri #imagine #one shot #sfw

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senascoop · 6 days

Text

☁︎ . , LOVER , S.JY ! ☁︎.

PAIRING: colleague ! jake × chef ! afab reader. . SYNOPSIS: what started as a simple dare—dating jake for a day—turned into something much deeper than you expected. what was meant to be a playful challenge from your mutual friends quickly spiraled into genuine feelings, leaving both of you questioning whether it was just a game after all. . GENRE: fluff. . WORD COUNT: 1.7k

m.list. enhypen mini series

The kitchen was quieter than usual, save for the soft hiss of noodles sizzling in the pan and the rhythmic clatter of utensils. You and Jake were alone, finishing up for the night, the scent of garlic and chili oil filling the air. Stirring the pot, you wiped the sweat from your forehead, feeling the heat not just from the stove, but from the tension that lingered between you both.

"Jake," you called, turning slightly toward him, your voice low over the sound of the crackling pan. His attention shifted from the loaded potatoes he had been taste-testing, his eyes locking onto you. For a second, the air felt heavier, your heartbeat quickening without explanation.

"Shouldn't we use pet names if we're dating for a day?" Jake's voice broke through the stillness, teasing but laced with sincerity. He moved closer to you, the space between narrowing. His lips curved into a small, mischievous smile as he added, “Like... can I call you baby, sweetheart, darling... or anything you'd like?”

The question caught you off guard. "What?" You choked, nearly dropping the spoon into the noodles, the spicy kick from the chili oil making your throat burn. Your cheeks flushed instantly—was it from the heat of the stove or his question?

Jake's reaction was swift. "Careful," he murmured, his tone softer now. He reached out and handed you a glass of water, his fingers brushing against yours as he placed it in your hand. The touch was gentle but electric, sending a shiver up your arm.

You quickly took a gulp of water, hoping it would cool the rising temperature within you, but Jake was already standing next to you, his hand lightly patting your back in an effort to soothe you.

His touch lingered longer than necessary, the warmth of his palm against your spine making you even more flustered. You tried to focus on the noodles, stirring them mechanically, but his presence was magnetic, drawing your attention away from the task at hand.

"Are you alright?" His voice was low, almost a whisper, his eyes scanning your face, concerned but with a hint of something else—something more.

You couldn’t decide what was making your heart race more—the chili oil's heat or Jake’s closeness. The way his hand rested on your back, his lips so close to your ear, made it hard to breathe. You let out a nervous laugh, feeling the intensity of the moment suffocating you.

"Y-Yeah... I'm fine," you muttered, trying to regain your composure, but your voice betrayed you, shaky and uncertain. You forced yourself to focus on the food again, your hands trembling slightly as you lifted the noodles from the pot.

Jake leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "You sure? You look a little... flustered," he teased, his voice dripping with playful confidence. The way he said it, as though he knew exactly what he was doing to you, made your stomach flip.

Your mind raced. Was this really just a dare anymore, or was there something more brewing between you two—something that had nothing to do with a challenge set by your friends?

The evening air was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Jake's arm casually wrapped around your waist as you walked side by side. The two of you meandered down the street, eating your ice cream as if this was a regular thing—a couple out for a stroll after dinner.

But the weight of the dare hung in the back of your mind, making every brush of his hand against your side feel more intentional, more charged than it should be.

Jake’s fingers lightly tapped your hip in a playful rhythm, his thumb occasionally grazing the fabric of your shirt, sending little sparks of awareness up your spine. You tried to focus on the cold sweetness of your ice cream melting on your tongue, but it did little to distract you from the way he held you so effortlessly close.

“We have a lot of chemistry, though,” he said, his voice light but with a teasing undertone, his eyes flicking to yours as if testing the waters. “Why don’t we date for real?”

The question hung in the air, and you couldn’t tell if he was serious or just messing with you. A flush crept up your neck, and you looked at him, wide-eyed, trying to read his expression as he nonchalantly licked his ice cream.

“Date? For real?” You repeated, a laugh escaping you, more from nerves than anything. “You’re joking, right?” You took a more careful lick of your ice cream, hoping to hide the awkwardness that settled in your stomach. But your voice was quiet, unsure, and you could feel the tension between you both shifting.

Jake’s gaze never wavered as he tilted his head, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I’m serious,” he said, stepping slightly in front of you, stopping your walk.

The two of you stood in the middle of the path, and the way he looked at you—his eyes soft but steady—made your heart race. “I’ve seen you stare at me. Every time we’re in the kitchen together.”

Your breath hitched slightly. “No, I don’t,” you mumbled, glancing away quickly, but he was already in front of you, blocking your path, his closeness making it impossible to ignore the pounding in your chest.

Before you could say anything more, Jake reached out, gently pulling the ice cream from your lips, his fingers brushing against your skin as he held it for himself. Without hesitation, he brought it to his own mouth, taking a bite from the very spot you had just been eating.

“That’s gross!” you muttered, your cheeks burning as you watched him shamelessly take another bite of the now half-melted popsicle.

He just smirked, shrugging as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow in playful defiance. “I don’t think it is. You’re my girlfriend, after all.”

“Just for a day,” you reminded him, your voice softer now, trying to bring the conversation back to the reality of the dare. But the way he was looking at you—the way he kept effortlessly challenging the boundaries of the game—made you feel like there was more to this than just a day-long act.

Jake’s smile widened, his eyes gleaming with something playful yet sincere. “We can change that,” he teased, popping the rest of the ice cream into his mouth, not caring in the slightest that it had your saliva all over it.

Your heart skipped a beat as you watched him, your mind racing. Was he still just teasing, or was there something more behind his words? Either way, you couldn't ignore the way his presence made you feel—like the line between dare and reality was blurring faster than you could keep up with.

Jake held the half-melted ice cream closer to your lips, teasingly slow, and you leaned in, ready to take a bite. But just as your mouth was about to close around it, he swiftly pulled it away, and before you could even register what was happening, his lips were on yours.

The world seemed to come to a halt. Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes widening in shock, but your body refused to move. His kiss was soft, almost hesitant at first, but there was something more behind it—a quiet yearning, a question he wasn’t brave enough to ask aloud.

And instead of pushing him away like your brain screamed at you to, you found yourself melting into him. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the cool breeze contrasting with the heat rising between you two, and the faint taste of ice cream lingering on his lips—all of it kept you anchored in place.

When he pulled away, his lips curved into a grin so playful and boyish, it was impossible to be mad at him. He looked at you like a golden retriever who just got away with mischief. "Hit me if you hate it," he challenged, his voice a low murmur, the glint of amusement in his eyes daring you to act on your earlier defiance.

You raised your hand, almost instinctively, but it hung in the air. How could you? Not when your lips still tingled with the memory of his kiss, not when the taste of him was still lingering, not when a small part of you—one you hadn’t even realized existed—wanted him to do it again.

Jake’s grin widened, his confidence growing as he watched you falter. "I take it as a yes then, chef," he teased, his voice light yet filled with something deeper. The ice cream had started to melt, dripping down his fingers, but he didn’t seem to care. His attention was fixed solely on you.

Before you could say anything, he leaned in once more, stealing another quick peck, as if he couldn’t resist. His lips brushed yours fleetingly, a ghost of a kiss, but it left your heart racing all the same.

"Jake," you muttered, trying to sound annoyed but failing miserably. He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your cheek, the sticky ice cream forgotten as it dripped to the ground.

"Just admit it," he whispered, eyes dancing with mischief. "You don't hate it."

"Well... maybe..." you muttered, the corners of your lips curving into a shy smile as you tried to keep your gaze steady. Jake’s grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he washed his sticky hands in the nearby sink.

When he finished, he turned back to you, the playful glint never leaving his eyes. Without a word, he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. His touch was warm and firm, and the proximity made your breath hitch.

"So it's final then," he murmured softly, leaning in with a teasing glint in his eyes. As he spoke, he gently pecked your lips again, his kiss lingering for just a heartbeat longer than expected.

The light brush of his lips against yours, the warmth of his embrace—it all blurred the lines between the dare and reality. You weren’t sure where the game ended and where your real feelings began. The kiss had been light, but it carried a weight of sincerity that you hadn’t anticipated.

"Girlfriend," he whispered against your lips, the word almost a promise, but his grin remained playful. You stared at him, your heart fluttering, unsure if the kiss was just part of the dare or if something more was starting to develop between you two.

taglist : @moonpri @chexnluv @iconchae @wensurr

masterlist.

enhypen mini series.

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naffeclipse · 21 days

Text

Sand and Sea

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I have the pleasure of being commissioned by @missdreamyhead to write a fluffy and sweet fic for @tubbyartz's birthday! Happy birthday! I hope you have a lovely day! Enjoy a little slice of Orca!Eclipse and the reader in a tropical setting and spending time together in the water! <3

———

Eclipse meant what he said: he would hunt you down to the ends of the earth. There is nowhere you can go where he can’t find you, reach you and draw you back into the water into his sea salt embrace.

You find yourself rather content with such an arrangement. Leaving the Arctic wasn’t easy, not with how long you knew he would have to wait to find you again, but you sit on a warm, white sand beach. The ocean softly laps up against the land, eager to touch your toes and drench your ankles.

Where is he? Eclipse is not one to keep you waiting or to stay away from you. He couldn’t hardly keep his hands off of you when he did rediscover you again standing waist-deep in the shallows and eagerly snatching you up to admire you once more. It had only been a few weeks, but he greedily devoured you with his eyes as if he were a man who had been shipwrecked without food for days.

You hum and tap on your journal. There are a few interesting species growing on this island, especially of the fungal kind. You’ve kept yourself busy searching for mushrooms along the decaying wood. The rich moisture and the fallen trees lend to a beautiful crop of fairy inkcap mushrooms and oyster mushrooms.

Beyond the edges of your journal, the waves splash and toss further from the island, overturning softly with white crests and deep, aquamarine hues. The air is blissfully warm as it heats your skin. The sun shines brightly upon the pale grains of sand. You wiggle your feet a little deeper into the beach just to feel the ground shift and heat the top of your feet.

You couldn’t have gone farther from the frozen Arctic tundra if you tried. Eclipse doesn’t seem to care that these waters are not of his home—so long as he has you close by.

You feared for a time that these warm waters would be uncomfortable for him, so unlike the icy, gray wafts of his cold homeland. He reportedly told you that he is none too affected by the change save for getting used to the prey that he must snatch up around the shores of the island. The fish are not as tasty as seals, but he says it means little to him now that he has you.

You catch a sharp red dorsal fin cutting through the surface. You straighten where you sit on the beach, your heart picking up softly at the familiar sight. The water is crystalline and blue, giving way to a sharp shape of black and white and red just below the rippling surface.

There he is.

Setting your journal aside before it can get wet, you patiently brace for Eclipse to get your attention. You don’t have to wait for his head to rear. Framed in sharp, pointed frills, bleeding burnt orange and deep red hues like a darkening sunset, his face rises above the water with heavy trickles dropping back into the ocean. His black and white crescent mark face splits into a grin. Razor-sharp teeth flash in sheer delight.

He stops his shark-like approach, almost beached in the shallows. His tail waves slowly side to side and stirs up sand, clouding the space where he lies in anticipation. Resting on his elbows, his sleek and dangerous frame half submerged and revealing his beautiful, shiny pattern of black and white, Eclipse slowly lifts a hand. Arching a black-bone clawed finger, he grins.

“Come closer, mushroom,” he rumbles low, sweet and abysmal. He beckons with his fingers. “I want to see you.”

You lift your chin, a mischievous streak painting you with playful intent. You grin. Eclipse is already on guard, his wide eyes drilling into you with the intensity of twin suns, one yellow, and one red.

“But it’s so nice on the beach.” You reach down and pat the sand beside you. The heat of the sun warms it underneath your palm. “Won’t you join me?”

His grin turns harsher, askew. He lowers his hand but you watch it drag just underneath the water, cutting into sand and leaving ribbons in his wake.

“You will be so much warmer in my arms.” As if to emphasize this, he opens them to welcome you into his embrace. His claws curly slightly with a greedy need. “Come closer, my fairy.”

“I didn’t hear a please,” you answer, batting your eyelashes sweetly. “Besides, the sun is so warm already! If you joined me, you could find out for yourself.”

He will beach himself. You know he will, but he wants you in the water today. You see it in how his tail curls, almost as if to slap the surface with his frustrations but the game is still going. It’s his turn now.

Eclipse is no less spirited when he snaps his jaws. “Please, mushroom. I won’t beg again. Come closer. Let me hold you. Let me have you entirely.”

You brush your hair back over your shoulder. Fixing your red hat, mushroom in shape and dotted with small white specks, you slowly get to your feet. You stand, pushing Eclipse’s patience as you regard the water and then him with a mirthful smile.

“Come closer to me. Meet me halfway,” you press, flippant and challenging, all at once.

The orca siren snarls low, yet he never loses the glimmer in his gaze as he pushes himself up the shore. You balk internally, catch off guard at how quickly he beaches himself, his tail almost entirely out of the water as he regards you with a hunger bordering on something savage.

“I am here.” He presses a wet hand into the hand, pushing himself into a looming, threatening shadow over the sand. His one claws curl. Your insides bubble at his intensity. “Come. Closer. You only need to take a few steps to be mine.”

Softly, you take a step forward. His eyes flash to your toes curling in the sand and you hold your stance again. A growl rumbles through his chest. You shouldn’t enjoy this so much. He could have sang and already had you in his clutches, but he enjoys your feisty dares as much as you do. Holding yourself strong, you return his gaze unblinkingly.

“You have to be nice, or else I’ll swim far away.” You bite back a note of laughter.

Eclipse, however, does not. His pulsing chortle echoes, almost rippling over the waves in melodic amusement.

“Even in your siren form, you aren’t fast enough to escape from me.” He holds out a hand. The slickness of his palm, just inches away from snatching the edges of your pale dress. “But I will be good to you. I always am.”

You muse for a moment, and his gaze narrows in the slightest. You’ve reached the end of his rope.

“Be good, my little fairy.” His black bone claws turn underneath the sunlight, glinting wickedly, and you almost choke at how beautiful and terrible they are. “Come closer.”

You have resisted him for long enough. Teasingly, you walk slowly, stretching your stride and sinking into the sand. Eclipse shimmers slightly, almost drying out underneath the baking sun. His tail and fins shift anxiously as if he intends to pounce upon you. Once you move within reach, you can hardly blink before he captures your wrist and gently pulls you down with him.

You laugh once as he quickly covers you in his shadow. He’s been waiting far too long, you imagine. Your knees are propped on otherside of him as he bears down upon you, nearly pinning you underneath his weight before studying you slowly. His looming form provides a gentle reprieve from the harsh sunlight.

“You need to be good,” he reminds you. A deep rumble vibrates the very air and touches you. You gasp softly underneath him. A claw carefully brushes away a thick, dark brown lock of hair from your face. “I must always have you within reach.”

“You always grab me when you do,” you counter with a pointed look, but a smile traces your lips.

“I want to see you.” He lowers himself until he’s almost laying on top of you. His sleek body gleams and a few drops of water fall from the end of his head frills and onto the sand around you. “All of you. I want to feel how soft and sweet you are.”

Internally, you begin to melt. A softness washes over you, taking you underneath his gentle touch. The orca siren draws his fingertips carefully along your cheekbone, carefully memorizing the shape of your face. His slick touch leaves a residue of sea salt and water behind. It cools your skin gently. He parts his mouth and swipes his tongue over his rows of teeth. Your eyes follow the movement, captivated. He chortles.

“You want to see me as well,” he purrs. “You must have me close. You always want me here with you. Say it.”

You resist for a moment, a teasing retort somewhere in the back of your throat, but he takes hold of your chin and you are lost in his burning eyes. He is too stunning, too overwhelming. Your body is hot and molten.

Softly, you echo his words. “I do. I want you close to me.” You blush as you keep speaking, unable to resist the red surge in your cheeks. “I want you here with me. Always.”

“Good, my little fairy,” he drawls, and his grin widens with delight, “Come here. Swim with me in the water again.”

He gently tugs you further and further off the sand. You let him, carefully cradled in the strength of his arms, small and tiny in his embrace. You hide your face briefly in the crook of his shoulder. The scent of sea salt and a harsh musk like rime fills your nostrils, and you breathe easier.

The first touch of the water against your skin sends a shiver up your spine. Quickly, your body adjusts to the warm, soothing temperature of the water. The sand stirs, filling the shallows as Eclipse manages to flip his tail and bring you with him as the slope of land underneath your body falls lower, and lower still.

“Eclipse?” you ask softly. You touch his hands, holding them tighter to you as he begins swimming from the safety of shore. He easily keeps you above the lapping waves trying to drench your head and mushroom hat.

“I won’t allow you to sink,” the orca siren rumbles as sweetly as the lowest cords of bass in a song. Held to his chest, the water splashing your sides, you believe him. There is no place safer than within his arms. “I have missed your beautiful tail and how silky your hair becomes in the water. Let me see you like that again.”

He stops well within sight of the island. You turn within his embrace. His large hands rest on your waist and keep you afloat. A gentle shudder falls over you with the encouraging brush of his finger along your spine, pressing the fabric of your soaked dress against your skin.

“You swam with me yesterday.” You meant to answer with more resolve, more of a teasing bite, but it leaves your lips softly, as if reminiscing on how far he swam with you, the great reefs he helped you explore and then the sandy shore you both laid upon as you explained to him the nature of fungi and how beautifully and diverse they grow.

“I did. I want to see you again.” His gaze softens. His pelvic fins softly sway to keep him steady against the ever nudging presence of the tide. You watch his tail for a moment, breathless. His black and white colors strike out against the blues and his red and orange tipped flukes cut through the depths with ease.

His hand, slick and salty, cups your cheek. You fall softly into his embrace. Gently, you cup his much larger digits closer against your face.

“My little fairy. Swim with me,” he murmurs, raspy and yearning.

His voice lowers to a gentle hum as he presses you closer against him still. Your legs slide against his sleek flesh and your breath rattles out of your throat, overwhelmed by his closeness. How much he hungers for you. You close your eyes and nod gently.

“Alright,” you chuckle, “Just this once.”

But you’ve said that before.

Eclipse clicks a joyful series of sounds. His jaws clap as his hand cups the back of your head. Claws entangled with your long, brown locks. A smile tugs on the corner of your mouth as he closes the distance.

In the sea, the orca siren dips you low into a kiss, pulling you underneath the surface with a soft swirl of bubbles. The great eruption of magic and power flows into you, set free by his lips and gently pressed into your body, stirring up your marrow and lying over your skin. It is energy and love; it is the will of a siren who has claimed you as his mate.

He gently eases you back. You float softly in the water, but when your lips part, free of his magic and air, you freely intake water. Oxygen flows through you, keeping you buoyant and uncensored as any other fish who swim these crystal clear tides.

A sweet hum ripples through the water and washes over you. Eclipse eyes roam you freely, hungrily. Softly, you open your arms and look down at yourself, your dress still hanging wet and secure against your body but your legs are no more. Instead, a slender, flowing tail flicks through the sea. You’ve grown used to the waving motion of fins, flipping back and forth—though Eclipse often saves you from such effort by carrying you where you would like to go.

Long tendrils flow from your mushroom hat. Your senses awaken to the new appendages as they surround you like the tentacles of a jellyfish and your cap acting as the bell. Your hair flows freely through the water, softly twisting and waving. You gently push up your hat to gaze adoringly at Eclipse.

His hands find your waist and gradually slide down. His palms are large, almost squeezing you with his adoration before he brushes a hand softly over a red flowing fin, dotting in white not unlike your mushroom cap.

His eyes glimmer. A tenderness fills his frame while softly, he admires your stunning new form. It is thanks to him you can even experience the sea in such a way. You wonder if your red tail stands out too much or if the vivid yellow tendrils falling down from your cap are too strange to a siren, but Eclipse easily brushes those aside to meet you underneath the water. His mouth parts and a few bubbles escape. His lips mouth words of sweet nothing.

You blush fiercely when he takes your face gently in his hands. You breathe softly as he draws nearer. His claw carefully traces the shell of your ear, following the sharp point and admiring it as if it were sea glass or a treasured seashell. How he looks at you, how he holds you spills over with cherishment that sets your heart aflame. It is a miracle the water around you doesn’t bubble and fizz when he at last pushes aside the last of the ocean separating you and captures your mouth sweetly in a kiss.

The gentle pressure of his presence trickles into you, filling you like an empty well given fresh rain. You trace his arms. Underneath your touch, you marvel at the lithe cords of muscle tucked underneath his sleek, shiny skin. His claws wickedly trace the corners of your jawbone until you let out a soft, sweet sound of awe.

He parts from you gently and grins like a shark with the prey already between his teeth.

Gently, he turns and tugs on your hand. You follow with a flick of your tail, your soft, translucent fins seemingly more for beauty than any speed or agility akin to an orca siren.

Eclipse told you when he first changed you with his siren song that you are perfect. Though you don’t have his teeth and talons, he promises to protect and provide for you. You always thought he was far too eager to serve, to give you everything, but his love has always been like a floodtide, washing you out to sea with the force of it.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

His flukes flick carefully, minding how you fit along his side. Even in a siren form, you are tiny in comparison to his natural streamline body and cutting-edge fins. You don’t mind. Eclipse has tried to feed you fish time and time again and you refused, opting to wait until you had your human legs back to find food and feast.

Towards the back end of the island, the trees grow too dense and the ground too muddy and slick to traverse well, but through the water, you arrive without an ounce of difficulty.

Eclipse gently takes you by the arms, guiding you forward while he swims you faster than you could have hoped. A beautiful reef teams with life, bursting with colors in dozens of corals and darting with tiny fish and creatures who propel and jump and dash through the aquamarine and sunshine dazzling the ground.

You marvel. Your hand softly flies to your mouth as you gaze at the vision. Gently, you reach for Eclipse’s hand. He slows enough for you to push your mushroom cap up, peeking out from underneath, and beam at him with all your might.

Eclipse chortles. He doesn’t speak in the water but he doesn’t have to. You show him how pleased you are, and softly, while twirling one of your yellow tendrils gently around his finger, Eclipse glides with you over the reef to admire the beautiful wildlife.

#naff's writing commissions #apex polarity #orca!eclipse #he's so cute here and just loving all over y/n hehe <3 #naff writing

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mbruben-stein · 5 months

Note

hey hope ur having a great day! could I please request a headcanons of where ready accidentally calls tr boys "babe can u do something for me?" and they're not dating c:

(draken, mikey, mitsuya, baji)

Tokyo Revengers Boys react to s/o accidentally calling them babe, and they're not even dating.

~Mikey~

Mikey's eyes widened in surprise as he heard the words slip from your lips. "Babe? Did you just call me babe?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement. You blushed furiously, realizing your mistake. "I-I'm so sorry, Mikey. I didn't mean to call you that," you stammered, feeling embarrassed.

Mikey couldn't help but chuckle at your flustered reaction. "It's okay, don't worry about it," he reassured you, a playful glint in his eyes. "But since you asked so nicely, what do you need me to do for you?" he inquired, flashing you a mischievous grin.

You quickly explained the favor you needed help with, trying to distract yourself from the embarrassment of your slip-up. Mikey listened attentively, nodding along as you spoke. "Consider it done," he said with a smile, making you feel grateful for his willingness to assist you.

As you both worked together to complete the task, you couldn't help but appreciate Mikey's easygoing nature and willingness to help a friend in need. Despite the accidental endearment, you were grateful to have someone like Mikey by your side, always ready to lend a hand and make you smile, even if it meant enduring a little teasing along the way.

~Draken~

Draken's request to his s/o accidentally calling him "babe" caught him off guard. He wasn't used to terms of endearment from anyone, let alone someone he wasn't in a romantic relationship with. However, he couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him at the sound of it.

"Babe, can u do something for me?" his s/o asked, completely oblivious to the slip of the tongue. Draken couldn't help but chuckle at the situation. Despite his tough exterior, he found himself enjoying the unexpected affection.

"Sure, what do you need?" Draken replied, trying to keep his voice steady.

His s/o went on to explain the task at hand, their words flowing easily as if they had been together for years. Draken listened intently, his heart feeling strangely full at the thought of being relied on in such a way.

After they finished discussing the details, Draken couldn't resist teasing them a little. "By the way, you called me 'babe' earlier. Slip of the tongue or something you want to tell me?" he said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

His s/o blushed furiously, realizing their mistake. "Oh, I-I'm sorry! It was just a slip-up, I promise," they stammered, embarrassment evident in their voice.

Draken chuckled again, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. "No need to apologize. I didn't mind it at all," he reassured them, a small smile playing on his lips.

As they said their goodbyes, Draken couldn't help but feel grateful for the accidental slip that brought a new level of closeness between him and his s/o. Who knows, maybe one day they might actually become more than just friends.

~Mitsuya~

Mitsuya raised an eyebrow in confusion as his s/o casually called him "babe." They weren't even dating, so why would they use such an endearing term? He couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in his chest at the unexpected nickname, but he quickly pushed it aside, not wanting to get his hopes up.

"What do you need me to do?" Mitsuya asked, trying to keep his voice casual despite the sudden rush of emotions swirling inside him. His s/o smiled sheepishly, realizing their slip-up, but didn't correct themselves.

"I need you to help me with something," they replied, handing Mitsuya a stack of papers. "I know you're good with organizing, so I thought you could help me sort through these."

Mitsuya nodded, accepting the task without hesitation. He couldn't deny that he enjoyed spending time with his s/o, even if it was just in a platonic way. As he worked alongside them, he couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for something more between them in the future.

But for now, Mitsuya pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, focusing on the task at hand. He was content just being there for his s/o, whether as a friend or something more. And who knows, maybe one day they would be more than just friends. Only time would tell.

~Baji~

Baji's eyes widened in surprise as he heard his name slip from his s/o's lips. They weren't even dating, so why did they call him "babe"? His heart raced with confusion and a hint of hope as he turned to face them, trying to keep his expression neutral.

"Uh, sure, what do you need?" Baji replied, trying to play it cool despite the unexpected endearment. His s/o blushed and stammered out their request, clearly flustered by their slip-up. Baji couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in his chest at the slip.

As he went to fulfill their request, Baji couldn't shake the thought from his mind. Did his s/o have feelings for him too? Or was it just a slip of the tongue? He couldn't help but analyze every interaction they had, searching for signs that maybe, just maybe, they felt the same way he did.

Despite his wild personality and tough exterior, Baji couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him at the thought of his s/o possibly seeing him in a different light. He vowed to tread carefully, not wanting to ruin their friendship with his own feelings.

But deep down, Baji couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, his s/o's slip of the tongue was a sign of something more.

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me-uglypretty · 8 months

Text

One of the best prank ever

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: Yelena and Kate fools Peter into a web of lies that eventually creates something more than a mischievous prank. [Loosely based on this incorrect quotes]

Warning: 18+ (G), fake relationships, comedy, pranks, fluff | Word count: 2.9k

| Remember, they’re married! | Notify | Navigation |

A joke was uttered harmlessly into the pleasant space, materialized at a whim, and evolving into something hazardously serious. It was that, neither of them would come to discover who was to blame for such a disobedient indication. If not for the known existence of two culprits, already pattering of their next move, tarnishing what peace that once held—which havoc was meant for outside threats, thus, less nuisance was applauded—and the ones who oath to mischiefs tendencies. An unlikely duo at first glance and the absolute roar of chaos together; Yelena Belova and Kate Bishop.

And alike brilliant ideas, it had begun from a harmless observation. Though, it wasn’t the two friends, a renowned spy, and a witty archer, it was another who had awakened such impish ideas in the head of such operations. It was that voice, an adolescent boy, chattering away cluelessly and who had uttered;

“I saw Natasha in the training room before I came here. She was training with Y/n again— I mean, not in the again, like uh that’s bad, but the— sorry, they’re always training together! They’re such good friends. I like seeing them together, it’s just like me and Ned! We always do things together…our bond is that strong.”

Peter Parker was always mindful of those around, reasonable as he speaks and caring as he offers support without expecting for something in return. He was the youngest among the two friends, often confiding them of his adventures as Spiderman and his ordinary life or merrily gushing about something in the compound. Those known to his behaviour, doesn’t consider more than a young boy’s excitement of working with the Avengers which electrifying high has yet to diminish from his mind.

“I saw them sharing lunch too. But Ned doesn’t really share, he says he will, then he ends liking the food he didn’t order so I end up eating the food that he doesn’t like but ordered…” Peter continued, retelling another tale of his friend from outside the hero business.

He visits the pair occasional, mostly when he had time to spare, since the heavy load of starting university and extended time spend swinging around the neighbourhood. Similarly, they were three the youngest in training and felt more correlating with the other as compared to the older members. If the pair wasn’t there, he occupies his time pestering Tony or exhausting himself with training which had led him to his current position in the kitchen. An hour of training later and he was eager to satiate his hunger.

Yelena and Kate were intently listening to Peter’s usual rambles or more so, exceedingly interested in watching him use his webs to gather ingredients for his sandwich while they sat there, eating their mundane made bowls of cereal. Nods of interest was shared at the one side conversation, till that bubble was popped by Peter’s spike in narration about the two former spies of opposing countries and their incredibly treasured friendship.

His tone resonates of something remarkable about witnessing you and Natasha training together and the murmurs of almost never seeing you both apart. Natasha and Y/n are always together, Peter had acknowledged, tumbling upon more story of the two spies together and the honourable mentions of his own friendship.

At that notable realisation, an idea surface brashly in Yelena’s mind, blossoming sweetly in her broad mind as her lips curls brazenly with a smile at the prospering idea. Peter’s unintentional nature of oversharing at times instigated troubles while some rare moments, a blessing for those around, and it was the sole reason for the fuelling ideas in her head. Those that pleads for her to listen and martialize vague thoughts into brilliant reality, and with that—a story far less innocence than a scene of two friends training together, spending endless time together, and just the idea of them together.

Yelena performed first, conveying the look of disapproval by the shake of her head. Blonde tresses budge at the motion, tickling her cheeks as she brushes strands of her hair away. “Oh no, Peter Parker,” her voice dropped, eyebrows furrowed, and arms crossed, as if contemplating on disclosing a crucial information. “No,” she dragged the word, staring at him like he had candidly shared a confidential information.

This was it, the perfect opportunity, that seldom occasion that roused gleefully in Yelena’s favour and she cherish it, accepting the gracious chance happily. Despite the distinct warnings echoing her head. The voice of her sister, Natasha, taunts her mind with an intimidating glare set on her form and the scolding heard from various voices after. However, the golden opportunity had appeared suddenly, and it offered her a chance of an adventure to prank merrily and verbalizing funny jokes, sometimes far too dangerous too. Yelena rather partakes in activities that wasn’t projected upon her life by other, and enjoy the taste of freedom with it.

It was that, the sweet joy derived from stolen childhood, and the American dream, like those shown on television.

On the other end, Kate was situated in a conflicted position. She wasn’t aware of her friend’s noiseless scheming. Confusion swirls tiresome ideas in her mind at Peter’s tales, the questions of why was stuck at the tip of her tongue, till her gaze flickers to her friend. Those ardent eyes swims in hues of hazel and gleams gleefully, eyebrows quirks and lips pressed together, translating to none other than the common expression of trouble.

The same look that illustrated their ultimate trademark as mischiefs or troublemakers as Clint had proposed, still fuming in annoyance and tired at the unlikely duo of friends.

Conveniently, their shared moniker symbolised the start of their hectic friendship which ensued after the success of their first operation coded as Hawk and Sparks. An apparent dazzling prank involving radiantly colourful glitters and Clint’s most priced weapons, his beloved pair of bow and arrows. The foremost comedic performance or perhaps, scary, depending on who you asked—corresponding to Kate’s rational fear of inciting resentment from her idol and partner—was the exaggerated appearance of said hero’s threatening weapons. A bow glazed in glitters of various hues and each arrow adorned with a specific colour of glitter.

Despite the enrage brought devastatingly upon Clint, the enemies were apprehended swiftly from their bewildered seconds of weakness at witnessing Hawkeye tugging at his weapon and revealing such glowing equipment. It wasn’t the least bit intimidating when sparkling weaponries was their hostile warning.

The wondrous duo of Yelena and Kate, somehow, and frequently, find themselves tangled in one mess after another. It seemed as if, trouble appears on a gleaming golden platter for their joyous consumption.

Only to them, and only for them.

Kate sighed, half concern by the erupt exchange and half struggling to imitate Yelena’s expression. Acting and pretending wasn’t her expertise. “Yeah, very bad,” she pushed, cheeks puffed, and her arms crossed at the scene unfolding before her curious eyes.

It was once terrifying to not know of her friend’s scheming, specifically for someone who had habitually found herself in compromising situations, Yelena’s influence had undoubtedly brewed confidence from being an accomplice to her friend’s ideas. At the stage of their friendship, worry doesn’t itch her throat as she continued her performance to invoke the best realistic lies at every spoken word.

The two friends wordlessly collaborated for their present plan or more so, the inevitable prank, by gazing into each other eyes, the gleaming sort of difference between two, and only known to them as their anticipating mischief. Other had seen this. Peter had watched the scene of them, he was watching them, the exchange and the revelation that came after. Worry looms over him at his friends’ expression. His eyebrow twitches, brains pulling at each thread to recall the decisions he made within the last twenty-four hours.

Peter doesn’t reconsider anything else than something he had done. It must had been his fault. He was different like that, so unlike them. Always genuinely polite, and naturally attentive to conversation. Aunt May taught him the best manners which he promised to preserve. The friendly pose he exhibits was always prominent, either as an average boy or a crime fighting hero, and accurately credited as the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

“What’s wrong? What did I do? Please, I can fix it,” Peter expressed worriedly, fingers drumming nervously on the surface of the grey marble counter. His hunger forgotten as he wondered if the kitchen was always unpleasantly humid, the kind of heat that scorches through his suit and formulate a layer of sweat on his skin, or perhaps, his body was simply steaming from feeling anxious.

Yelena surveyed the scene first. “Do you not know?” she asked, feigning disbelief as she steps warily into his space and pressed her hand firmly on his shoulder.

Peter denied, shaking his head at the supposed information, and sharing a look of nervous between the pair. “It’s bad, isn’t it? It’s about Tony, isn’t it? He thinks of me as too much of a son so he doesn’t want me here anymore.”

The ambitious performance halted at such unexpected revelation. Kate’s eyebrows furrowed as her mouth parted in utter shock, and Yelena remained standing there, both glancing at the other, sharing the same perplexed look at their friend’s fumbling state. Kate mouthed something along the line of, “Daddy issues,” and Yelena nodded her head hastily. “So weird,” she had responded in a similar manner.

Pausing for few seconds, Yelena interjected Peter’s tormented mumblings. “No, no, he doesn’t know!” she makes a clicking sound after, her crimson tongue tapping at the roof of her mouth. She wordlessly announced her exit with a final squeeze of her hand over his shoulder and turning away from his doe eyes.

“Wait!”

A smile curls on her lips, kind of worrisome look for those aware of her brashness. Delight stirs in her chest at her quick-witted scheming. Yelena swiftly spins, immediately masking her pleasure with a miserable frown, aiding to her performance and agony that looms on the poor boy’s hunch posture.

Peter fumbled with his agile fingers, pressing them together on the marble counter. It was a stark contrast from his pale skin to the grey shade, then he stared at it enough to agitate himself into clasping his hands together. Ultimately, his arms fell entirely to his side with a defeated sigh. “Please tell me what’s wrong. I will fix it. I swear,” he promised, and instantly stumbled backward into a stool behind him, Yelena’s swift reflex halted his embarrassing fall. “Sorry, sorry, and thank you…” he shyly scratched the nape of his neck, a red rash appearing at the nervous impulse.

Yelena released an exceptionally long sigh and nodded her head, staring ahead at Peter. “Follow me, Spider-man,” she demanded, promptly taking the steps aways from the kitchen.

There, head of blonde locks bounces to a familiar tune that buzzes at her mumbling, and something that sparked Kate’s mind into trying to remember the song. All while Peter trails behind the two friends quietly. The two friends were discreetly observing their surrounding for any sort of unexpected guest or disruption, and exchanging a pleasant nod with the other at their current prank.

Offices and vacant rooms were insignificant as they passed each one, before standing across the merge of two heavy metal doors. It led to an extensive training room, equipped with various gym equipment and an area for sparring. Out of the three, Kate advanced forward, warily peeking through the rectangle window situated on each side of the door. She met sight of the two occupants, former assassins huffing and exerting their strength by sparring together. Both were completely unaware of prying eyes outside or Peter’s feet anxiously tapping the ground, each struck of noise echoes through the hallway.

Natasha was standing in the middle of the navy-coloured rubber mat, graciously shifting between her bare feet, fists raised securely, and an arrogant smirk curls on her lips. It takes a moment, two bodies round the other, before she swiftly pushed you down with a loud thud. Muddled chuckles was heard soon after. A victorious smile appeared on Natasha’s face while you had scoffed, shaking your head at your defeat, then a smile sneaks onto your face as Natasha uttered something.

It was enough proof for Kate to shift her gaze, meeting Yelena’s awaiting answer and nodding her head in confirmation.

Yelena takes the same steps forward, facing the opposite window from her friend. She leisurely taps the glass with her knuckles. “You see them, yes?”

Faith seems eager by her side, easily following through her plan, when they witness Natasha extending her hand towards you. Unexpectedly, your body plummet into Natasha’s body when you had lost your balance, and she swiftly held you, bodies pressed flushed together. The sheer seconds where eyes met, the undivided attention, the touch of skin, the hands that grasps the other, the corners of full lips lifting with a smile, the shared clumsiness which made those smiles widen. It was the perfect moment.

Yelena beams at the sight. She was witnessing you and Natasha like this, so foolishly relaxed, so easily drawing into her plan like there was an understanding on the extend of where her ideas went.

Peter’s eyes widen more after witnessing the exchange. “Yes— I mean, I guess-- they’re really good friends?”

His innocent perception of such scene had nearly influenced her decision from continuing with her vicious plan. Those doe eyes, high-pitched voice, and legs alike a new born reindeer, tripping with his steps or simply falling into her mischief plotting. It almost urges her intuition to end her plan, dust her shoulder off that mischief dirt, and move forward with a different kind of plan which will surely be another prank.

Almost, that word bears a hefty weight, and Yelena is far stronger than some word.

“You are so wrong. Kate Bishop, tell Spider-man that he’s wrong!” she waved her hand, emphasising the mistake made by the boy, and her friend speedily agreed. Both mirrored the look of disappointment to abet their narrative.

“No! I can’t mess this up.” Peter whined, feeling apprehensive at the possibility of being rejected as an Avenger. One mistake and it’s enough to end everything. He can’t afford that.

Kate, the overly compassionate friend between the two, hurriedly comforted him. “Okay, calm down. Peter, everything will be fine,” she verbalized softly, and taking into consideration of his hyperventilating as her hand pressed firmly on his shoulder. “Let’s listen to what Yelena has to say, okay?” she proposed as she discreetly sends a pointed look at her friend.

Out of everything that Kate had learned, either willingly or unwillingly, on the topic surrounding Yelena—the most palpable trait of her friend was her constant desire to dramatized situations with the ultimate purpose of agitating said person. She had mentioned once or twice of how it was amusing to witness people stir by the simple work of her words. However, Kate isn’t too keen about it, the first time she experienced still instigates a chilly feeling over her body.

Yelena groaned at her friend. “Fine. Ugh, so impatient.”

Before disclosing what was presumed as the most significant information, Yelena crossed her arms and straightened her posture, she spared one last look through the window where her sister was training with her partner. Muffled thuds could be heard, then the nervous tapping of Peter’s feet and Kate’s jacket rustling at each movement as she attentively surveys their surroundings.

“They are not friend, Peter Parker.”

The declaration was clear. It wasn’t alarming or thrilling, perhaps, it sparked more confusion than worry on the gullible boy. Peter’s eyes, wide and bleary, darts between the two friends to ensure those words were the climax of a finality that caused him stress. Kate answered his unspoken questions with a lenient nod of her head, enough motion for her brunette hair to drape around her face and shield herself from revealing her lack of understanding on Yelena’s plan, and another, revealing the truth to Peter.

“They are married. Natasha and Y/n are married.”

Kate gasped, slender fingers drawing her hair away like pulling apart curtains, and revealing her expression, mouth gaping and eyes wide open. Two stunned faces stared at Yelena’s knowing façade. The new information was unexpected to them, neither assuming anything close to this.

Your friendship with Natasha was familiar to everyone, one always helping the other and working together fluidly. Marriage, however, wasn’t something that would have been a conclusion to the close relationship.

“Unless you are married to your best friend,” Yelena spoke teasingly, her forefinger pointed at the pair then meeting Peter’s eyes, he denied with flushed cheeks. “They are very close, not like friends...but as a married couple,” she added, nodding her head approvingly at the statement.

They glanced into the training room where you were playfully pushing Natasha’s shoulder as she retaliated with a harsher push. Still, all so unaware of the declared marriage to each other.

With that, the start of a harmless joke turned into a thriving prank by the marvellous mind of Yelena Belova and Kate Bishop.

The mischief duo, after subsiding Peter’s worry, had spent hours narrowing down the best name for their plan. It was accordance to what Yelena had argued as the best, what Kate presume was easier to remember, and the final that would be deemed as; one of the best prank ever.

#Remember they’re married!#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova x reader #kate bishop x reader

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nxiispire · 2 years

Note

Hello hello!

Could I request a sub!kaeya, sub!diluc, sub!venti, and a sub!xiao (separately pls) with a gentle dom! reader who degrades them will in the verge of their release please? Have a good morning/day/evening/night!<3

|･ω･`)ﾉ a/n : super sorry for taking so long to do this request! also i’m vry excited someone asked for venti cause i haven’t written for him even though he is a fave of mine

✰ Don’t be mean .. !

[ Featuring ] -> Kaeya, Diluc, Venti and Xiao x Reader

cw : f1ngering, degradation, use of slut and wh0re, h*ndjobs, thigh job, after care, a tiny bit of fluff

Kaeya Alberich

He whines

Pouts afterwards but both of you know that your degrading words only go straight to his c*ck

He’s a bit surprised to here such words come from you, a normally very gentle lover.

But he’s even more surprised at how much he enjoyed being called such dirty names.

Kaeya doesn’t exactly know how he got here, bent over his office desk, drool staining unimportant documents, and your fingers inside him. But he couldn’t care less about what caused this turn of events, his only focus being the heat rising in his lower half.

Feeling him squeeze around your fingers, a sign that he was close, you lean down to press your chest flush against his back, your hot breath tickling his ear as you whispered.

“Squeezing me so tight yeah? such a slut, how’d you think master jean would feel if she knew her captain was such a whore?”

Letting out a high pitched whine while mumbling something about being your slut, he came all over the hard wood desk.

Let’s just say having to explain the missing documents was not apart of your regular after care routine.

Diluc Ragnvindr

This man will straight up defend himself 😭😭

He would be like “i’ve been a good boy!” or “m’not a slut” while letting out the sluttiest moans

But despite the protest he quite enjoys the change in language

The poor man just needs some self preservation

“ n-no! v’been good, need to ah- need to cum~”

He begged as you teased him while on the verge of release. You could hear the wet sounds coming from your stroking his cock with vigour.

“hmm I don’t know, do you really deserve to cum?” You further egged him on, no real intention to deny his orgasm.

“yes yesyesyes-YESS” he answered for you, finally cumming all over you hand.

Despite cumming without your explicit permission, you still treated Diluc with tender love and care as he bathed in the aftmath of his orgasm.

“You were so good for me” you assured him he did in fact deserve every bit of your affection.

Venti

For someone meant to be worshipped, he sure loves being talked down to

Though he loves your praise, it’s nothing he hasn’t heard already

So hearing you call him nasty names is exciting, he wants nothing more than to be beneath you

Also there’s no way such a mischievous man doesn’t have a thing for degradation, he’s practically asking for it

He’s grabbing on to your hips insanely tight as he frantically thrust himself between your soft thighs. As he presses his face into your back you can feel the vibrations of all the moans he’s letting out.

His cock slides effortlessly between your thighs aided by a mixture of your spit, and a abnormal amount of pre-cum.

“ahh mhh yess i’m close~” you hear his muffled whines from behind you.

“your such dirty boy aren’t you? it’s almost pathetic, humping my thighs like this?”.

Though your words harsh, your tone remained soft and caring, which almost made it more patronising.

Fueled on by your words he finally came, his cum mixing into the wet pool between your legs as he continues to thrust himself through his orgasm. <3

Xiao

Unlike Diluc he accept anything you say

You called him a bad boy? he will make it up to you and beg for your forgiveness, You called him a slut? then he’s your whore

Why would he care about self preservation when you’re the only one he wants to please

It’s something about the control you assert when you degrade him that gets him going

The way he’s fucking up into your hand is mesmerising, his abs flexing as he desperately chases after his high

“Look how desperate you are, who knew that this mighty adepti was such a slut~”

“Aah yes, mm your slut~ shit- just f’you!” He babbled, getting closer and closer to his orgasm. You weren’t even moving your hand at this point, you simply kept it still as he bucked up into it, producing a lewd squelching noise.

He let out one last loud moan as he came, his cum landing on his chest and dribbling down your hand.

After riding his high the adeptus did something he hadn’t done in a very long time, falling straight to sleep.

Once you finished admiring his adorable fucked out form, you make sure to grab a warm towel to clean up, loving being able to take care of him without any of his protests.

the end _(:3 」∠)_

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ma1dita · 1 year

Text

to chase the sun

words: little over 1k

summary: grumpy!remus hates the rain but loves his sunshine!reader

warnings: none! gender neutral reader but a quick fem mention in the poem at the end, allusions to lycanthropy causing chronic pain, soft!comfy remus

a/n: when will it be my turn. side note, first fic out in YEARS lmfao please feel free to interact and comment! hope yall enjoy xx

(edited/reposted on 9/7/23)

—

Remus Lupin hated the rain. People in the streets rush to get away from it, always wanting to run from the cold. It’s lonely, running is. And that is a feeling he is all too familiar with. Loneliness is a friend of his, and it sits with him often when the sky is dark and bleak, nothing unlike how he feels around the time of the full moon. He’s sat at the window of the Gryffindor common room, gazing outside instead of finishing his Herbology homework. It was raining, the kind where big fat drops are hitting the window and dragging their way down the glass. A fire crackled in the corner of the room, the warmth spreading across his scarred skin.

Analyze the benefits and disadvantages of using Muggle practices and methods in herbology, and discuss whether the magical world should adopt more of these innovations.

Remus rubs his forehead and looks out into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, tired eyes seeing the world as so cold and gray in contrast to the comforting heat in the dim light. Warmth. A feeling he’s been chasing for as long as he’s known. Remus is someone who sits in the sunlight to feel it through his bones. He always has a bite of chocolate ready in hopes of taking some of the cold away. The sweaters that drape over his broad shoulders are a constant reminder of an embrace and what it feels like to be held. And well, there’s you.

You. A direct contradiction to every vow of self-deprecation and isolation he’s made to himself since he was bitten, quickly forgotten with every earth-shattering smile you point in his direction. You, his darling angel who’s laughter sounds like orchestral music, the perfect quell to the silence in his head. He wonders what Icarus must have felt like, flying too close to the sun. But as you walk down the dormitory steps with rosy cheeks and an umbrella big enough for two, he understands what it means to take that risk. It was easy to fall. Sunlight is hard to catch, after all.

“Rem? You wanna go for a walk outside? You need a break baby.” You’re smiling at him, rain boots squeaking against the tile in anticipation of his next move.

“It’s raining pretty hard. You really want to go out in the downpour, my sweet?” His brow furrowed as he thought of the rain falling on the streets, and wished he could take it all away. His lover is made of sunshine, and he’d fistfight the sky if it meant he could keep you shining.

“We could dance in the rain like in those muggle movies your mom likes to watch!”

You’re grinning mischievously, looking like getting swept by the wind and rain is the ultimate dream, stumbling over to perch on his lap. His arm wraps around your waist, tickling your stomach as you lay your head on his shoulder.

“Just wanna spend time with you, Rem.” Your smile is imprinted on his jaw, and he’s convinced that if someone opened him up to take a peek inside they’d see your kisses gently marked along his heart.

He sighs softly, stroking your back as he bounces his leg lightly. Who wants to sit here and mope writing about plants anyway if you’re sitting there so pretty and beaming at him.

“Only for you.” he gruffs, as you let out a squeal. He never used to give in so easily before, but with you indulgence feels like an unconscious reprieve rather than an intentional choice he might later regret.

“ —But, I’ll just hold the umbrella so you won’t get wet.” Remus interjects, tracing his name into your thigh. You make a noise that resembles a laugh, and it makes it all the more easier to get up and put a jacket on, despite the comfort of his position in holding you pleading for him not to.

—

Your hands are intertwined as you both briskly walk down the cobblestone path. Remus, taking slower, larger steps and you, hopping into every small puddle that presents as an obstacle to your grand destination of nowhere, just to pass the time.

Remus stays quiet, one hand firmly on the umbrella and the other in yours. His entire being aches in the cold like this, another consequence of his unwanted ailment, but he grazes his thumb against your hand like someone rubbing themself warm in the presence of fire. You’re both standing in the field now and the way you gaze at him makes it feel like he could stay here forever if you asked him to.

The look in your eyes confirms that you’re itching to rush out from under the umbrella, to feel the wetness pelt against your skin. Instead, you lean against his chest, tapping your fingers along his spine as you both listen to the pitter patter of the rain. As you hum a love song you heard on the radio, he notices you close your eyes, safe in his arms and under the protection of shade. Peace is a feeling hard to find at the age of 17, but in the solace of your company, it makes one wonder what else could be defined as this.

He drops the umbrella.

“Baby! The rain…” you shriek, moving impossibly closer to him. He’d let you crawl into his skin if you could ever want to.

A laugh bubbles to the surface as he looks at you, hanging off of him.

“Wanna dance?”

Remus hopes you don’t mind the red in his cheeks as he holds his hand out. The rain washes away any doubt he had about loving you.

“But you’re getting all wet. You don’t like the rain.”

Raindrops are glistening as they fall off your eyelashes, dripping down your cheeks. Your hair is drenched now, and Remus can’t help but smile at you, shaking his head into your face like a wet dog.

“I don’t mind it. I love you.”

He continues to hum where you left off, spinning and dipping you before pulling you back into his chest as you giggle. He looks up at the sky, then looks at you. You’re still so warm, and he then realizes he has sunlight in his grasp.

“I could stay here all night!” You yell with glee, skipping circles around him, arms stretched towards the heavens.

“Dunno about that, baby, but we can try.”

Remus contemplates it, noticing a chill in the air as he crosses his arms, watching you dance with the raindrops. He accidentally steps into a puddle as he shifts his foot.

Yup. Remus Lupin still dislikes the rain. His sock is wet and the feeling seeps through him slowly, as you splash him. Warmth.

—

Remus Lupin never thought recovering from a full moon could feel worse, until of course it did.

“100.4! Sheesh, Moony you really did a number on yourself frolicking in the rain before your time of the month, huh?” Sirius says, tossing the thermometer to the bedside drawer. He’s tucked into his bed sniffing loudly as he burrows his head deeper into the pillow.

“Beat you. I got 100.6.” A head pops out from under the covers wrapping arms around him, giggling and then sneezing. Daylight is spilling across his sheets. Warmth.

“Was worth it.” he mumbles, snuggling closer in his twin bed.

—

“I love her as she is,

doing her thing,

I would never want

to control her fire;

All I need is

to be near it.”

Marc Anthony

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #marauders era #marauders x reader #remus lupin x gn!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #grumpy x sunshine #remus lupin #made by ma1dita ♥︎#for my gn babies (づ ◕‿◕ )づ

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weevil-wallflower · 4 months

Text

What kind of meditation is this?

Cal Kestis x f!Reader

Summary: Cal proposes a new way to meditate together.

Warnings/Tags: NSFW 18+, f!reader, use of Y/N (sorry, just trying out different ways to write :3), unprotected sex, dom!Cal, during/post-Jedi: Survivor, no spoilers for Jedi: Survivor.

A.N.: Yet another story for our lovable space ginger ^_^ Gif by me!

Also on AO3!

Word Count: ~4,200

Y/N was lying down on the bed she shared with Cal in the room below Greez's cantina when said man walked in. The red-haired Jedi had a particular glint in his green eyes, the one he gets when he's about to persuade her to do something she might disagree with.

Cal smiled gently at her, his eyes maintaining their distinct expression. "Hey, Y/N," he said softly, taking a seat beside her on the bed. “I was wondering if you’d like to try something with me.”

“Sure… What’s on your mind?” She asked, setting her book down and focusing intently on him.

“Meditation,” the redhead replied, intertwining his fingers with hers. “It’ll help us both clear our minds and… just be in the moment.” Leaning over, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “What do you say?”

“Oh…” Her smile was tinged with nervousness as she gently squeezed his calloused hand. “You know that’s more your specialty… I’ve never been good at all the concentration stuff… despite being a Jedi myself…” Y/N’s voice trailed off, a sense of shame creeping in as she acknowledged her perceived shortcomings in comparison to him, feeling like she was not good enough as a Jedi.

“I understand. But I believe you’ll exceed your own expectations. Trust me,” he reassured, sensing her embarrassment. Leaning in, he placed a tender kiss on her lips before moving to sit cross-legged on the bed, his actions conveying both encouragement and support.

Cal waited patiently for Y/N to join him, her soft hand sliding into his as he guided her to sit in front of him. “Okay,” he began softly, closing his eyes. “Just focus on your breathing. In… and out…”

The young woman copied his pose, settling into a seated position directly across from him with her legs crossed and closing her eyes, just as he had done. She maintained a straight posture, her hands resting calmly on her knees.

Cal could feel Y/N’s presence, her energy mingling with his own. He continued to guide her through the breathing, deepening his own breaths to match hers. “Good,” he whispered encouragingly after a few moments. “Now just let your mind wander…”

Not long after they started their meditation, they were suddenly disrupted by the sound of banging, followed by Greez’s loud yelling, something regarding his stove.

“Greez must be having a busy day…” Y/N giggled softly, opening her eyes. The cantina was pretty packed since morning which must be why they were hearing all that commotion from the floor above.

Cal chuckled as well, squeezing Y/N’s hand comfortingly. “Yes, I think Greez has his hands full today.” He opened his eyes, returning his attention to her. “But maybe we could try again later? When there’s less noise around.”

She nodded, relieved to have gotten out of that awkward situation all the while admiring Cal’s expressive green eyes. But then she noticed those eyes widening with a spark of inspiration. She knew that expression all too well; It meant the redhead just had an idea he could not wait to share.

A mischievous smile crossed Cal’s face as he leaned in closer to Y/N. “Or,” he began, his voice a whispered conspiracy, “we could go somewhere else. Somewhere quiet, where it’s just us and nature.”

“Cal…” Her smile wavered, not wanting to sit still and engage in something she was not good at.

The redhead’s brow furrowed slightly at the hesitation in Y/N’s voice. “What’s wrong?” He asked, concern etched on his face. “Do you not want to go somewhere quiet?”

“I…” The disappointment reflected in his expression stopped her. She always found herself unable to deny him anything whenever he looked at her like that.

“I do… It’s just… You know meditation isn’t my strong suit…”

Cal’s smile returned, offering reassurance. “I understand, and it’s perfectly fine. We can explore something else, something you enjoy. Or maybe try a new approach to meditation altogether. I’m here with you, Y/N; I won’t ever leave you behind.”

“Why do you seem so adamant to teach me…?” She asked, her smile returning.

Growing up, Y/N had no formal Jedi training unlike Cal, which meant she lacked certain skills and knowledge. However, it seemed that her boyfriend had taken it upon himself to provide her with everything she might need.

“Because I love you, Y/N,” Cal replied simply, his voice softening. “I want to share my experiences and knowledge with you, especially when it comes to the Force. You’re just as much a Jedi as I am, and I believe in you. I want to guide you and support you in every way I can.”

His words carried a depth of sincerity, a testament to his unwavering love and acceptance of her as his equal. Taking her hand in his, he gave it a reassuring squeeze, his eyes reflecting the depth of his devotion to her.

“And besides,” he added with a playful smirk, “We make quite the team, don’t you think? And together, we’ll only grow stronger, not just as Jedi, but as partners.”

“Well… when say it like that, how could I say no?” Y/N replied with a smile, her emotions stirring at his earnest words and her heart warmed by his affection. Leaning over, she gently kissed his jaw, relishing the sensation of his short beard against her soft lips

“So, what place do you have in mind?”

Cal thought for a moment before suggesting, “How about the Basalt Forest? It’s a beautiful place, just on the outskirts of our current location. The water there is crystal clear and shallow, perfect for a relaxing evening.”

“Hmm, that sounds good. And if we’re going to get wet, we should take a change of clothes, just in case.”

“A change of clothes is always a good idea,” Cal nodded in agreement. “We don’t want to be stuck without anything dry if we do end up getting wet.”

“Alright, let’s do it!”

As they reached the waterfall, Cal guided Y/N to a flat, rocky area just at the base of the waterfall. The water there was shallow and warm, perfect for relaxing. “This should be good,” he said, sitting down dipping his feet into the water.

Both of them had removed their shoes and were in light clothing, the rest of their belongings placed on a dry patch of grass.

Cal sat cross-legged on the warm rocks, his hands resting in his laps. “Y/N, why don’t you try sitting like this? Close your eyes and focus on your breathing. Let the sounds of nature wash over you.”

She nodded and sat down facing him, folded her legs into a cross-legged position and straightened her back.

As Y/N sat down, Cal noticed how gracefully she managed to mimic his position. He smiled softly at her and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the fresh air. The sound of the waterfall was soothing, and he could feel the warmth of the evening sun on his skin.

She also closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. The water felt soothing against her feet and legs as they rested in the shallow depths, and the mist from the waterfall was refreshing. However, after just a few minutes, Y/N began to fidget. She had no idea how Cal could meditate, remaining in one position for hours on end.

Cal could sense Y/N’s restlessness, but he did not let it bother him. “Just try to focus on your breathing,” he whispered, keeping his voice low so as not to break the peaceful atmosphere.

“I am, Cal…” she replied, mildly surprised he sensed her even with his eyes closed. She even opened one eye to peek, just to confirm that his eyes were closed. And they were, his expression calm and concentrated.

The redhead could feel the gentle vibrations of Y/N’s voice against his skin. He continued to breathe deeply, inhaling the scent of the waterfall mist and fresh vegetation. The water lapped at his feet, sending tiny waves through his calves.

Meanwhile, the young woman was beginning to feel more and more restless, prompting Cal to teasingly ask, “So, how’s the meditation going for you? Are you even trying to concentrate?” He opened his eyes, the green orbs gleaming with playful amusement as he watched his girlfriend squirm.

“Cal, you know I can’t sit still for so long… I don’t know how you do it,” she pouted, practically whining.

The redhead chuckled softly, his warm breath tickling her ear. “It’s a skill like any other, my love. You just have to practice.” He reached out and gently tugged on a lock of her hair, causing her to giggle despite herself.

“Maybe I could help you practice,” Cal proposed, his voice low and seductive. With a mischievous grin, he reached out and took hold of Y/N’s waist, pulling her gently towards him.

She gasped as he maneuvered her to straddle him, pulling her onto his lap without warning. Their bodies pressed flush against each other’s, catching her by surprise.

The redhead grinned in response as his muscled arms wrapped tighter around Y/N’s waist, drawing her even closer. “This should help,” he murmured into her ear, his warm breath sending shivers down her spine as She gently placed her hands on his shoulders. She blushed heavily when she felt his arousal gradually building beneath their damp clothes, which clung to their bodies.

Cal could feel Y/N’s soft grip on his shoulders and he knew she felt the stirrings in his pants as he grew harder, throbbing against her. He held onto her hips. “Y/N…” He whispered hoarsely, feeling her heat through their soaked clothing as his throbbing cock pushed against her.

“Cal…” Y/N whispered in response, confused at her boyfriend’s actions.

Cal did not give her time to protest as he reached down, pulling their wet pants down together, exposing them below the waist. His thick shaft sprang free, already leaking pre-cum in anticipation of what was to come.

Y/N glanced down at his member—a welcome sight but only in the comfort of their quarters. Out in the open, it only made her panic. “W-What if someone catches us?!” She frantically asked.

Cal chuckled softly, his hands sliding up her back to cup her breasts through her wet shirt. “I’ll sense if anyone comes near,” he assured her, leaning in to capture one of her nipples between his teeth, teasing it gently through the fabric clinging to her. The sudden sensation caused Y/N to let out a soft moan, arching in his lap and unconsciously pushing her panty clad folds against his cock.

With a rough growl, Cal tore her panties off, tossing the ruined fabric aside carelessly. He was unable to resist the temptation any longer and wrapped her arms around her waist again. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her addictive scent and nibbling at her flesh.

Y/N, however, was quick to voice her displeasure at his brazen actions. “H-Hey…! I liked that underwear!” She yelled, sounding breathless despite her protests.

The redhead laughed, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “I’ll buy you a new one, I promise.” He slid his hands down her body, cupping her soft, bare butt and squeezing gently. “But right now, I want you so bad.”

Y/N could only whimper in response as her now bare folds grinded against his throbbing member.

Now with no barrier between them, Cal was unable to resist any longer. He lifted her up slightly, positioning the head of his cock at her entrance before thrusting into her with a growl. Y/N’s body jerked against his as he filled her completely, their combined wetness making for a slick and smooth entry.

The young woman felt so impossibly full, just sitting their on his lap, impaled on his cock while her hands gripped his shoulders. She tried to raise her body to get some much needed friction but felt his strong hands gripping her hips, holding her tightly in one place.

“Perhaps you’ll have a better time meditating now,” Cal murmured in response to her incredulous expression, his deep voice rough with lust. As he began to thrust gently inside her, rocking his hips back and forth, Y/N moaned softly, her body beginning to tremble against his.

Cal appeared to be in control of the movements as every time she tried to move, he held her in place until he stopped altogether, leaving her sitting on his throbbing cock.

“We should resume meditating now,” the redhead suddenly whispered against her ear, his voice already low and steady. Without waiting for a response, he closed his eyes, holding the two of them completely still as he began the meditation, all too aware of Y/N’s building frustration.

“W-What…? Cal!” Eyes wide, she glared up at his calm face while she tried to wiggle her hips in defiance.

Cal remained completely still, his eyes closed and his expression serene. He did not respond to her glares or her attempts to wiggle free, instead focusing on the meditation. Y/N felt trapped by his strength and control as she sat on his lap, his cock buried inside her and painfully motionless.

“Focus. You can moan later,” the redhead Jedi murmured in an infuriatingly teasing tone. His eyes remained closed as he held her hips in place with his hands, preventing any movement from either of them. Y/N could feel the heat building inside her as she struggled against his grip.

Sitting beneath the cascading waterfall, drenched and exposed from the waist down, joined together in the most intimate of ways, with her straddling his lap, they made a very scandalous sight to any passerby who might chance upon them. Yet, Cal reassured her of the seclusion of this spot, especially at this time of the evening. And she trusted him to prevent anyone from witnessing them in such a state.

She did not have more time to dwell on it as the lack of movement or friction was starting to agitate her, Pressed against his strong chest with him deep inside her was beginning to drive her insane.

"Cal... Are you serious?" she hissed, incredulous at his apparent calmness despite their passionate embrace.

“I am completely serious, Y/N,” Cal replied, his voice barely more than a whisper and his eyes still closed. He could feel every muscle in her body tense as she struggled against him, her breaths becoming shallower and quicker.

“H-How do you expect me to meditate like this? Especially when I can barely do it normally…”

“Concentrate on your breathing,” Cal instructed, his hands tightening slightly around Y/N’s hips to keep her still. “Feel the water cascading down around us, feel the coolness against your skin.”

“And you inside me…?” She snarkily whispered, glaring up at him.

Cal’s lips twitched, almost as if he was trying not to laugh. “And me inside you,” he acknowledged, his voice lowering into a gentle murmur. “Feel our connection, Y/N. Let it guide you.”

“Cal…!” She whined, wiggling her hips. “I need you to move!”

The redhead opened his eyes slowly, meeting Y/N’s desperate gaze. He could see the desire and need burning bright in her eyes, and it only served to fuel his own desires. With a soft chuckle, he began to rock his hips gently, grinding against her. “Like this?”

“Yes! J-Just like this…!” Gasping, she leaned her head against his shoulder, savouring the sensation as her eyes drifted shut in bliss. The sensation of her soft walls gripping him tightly as he moved sent shivers down his spine.

Unfortunately, Cal halted his gentle movements all too soon for her liking, a playful grin forming on his lips. “You’ll enjoy the ride a lot more once we finish meditating, Y/N,” he said, his voice low. “Finish meditating with me, and I’ll continue moving like this.”

“Cal, that’s not fair!”

Cal chuckled softly in response, his hands moving to caress her back soothingly. “Life isn’t always fair, my love,” he said with a grin. “But if you want me to continue, you know what you need to do. It’ll be worth it in the end, I promise.”

The redhead was feeling mischievous, finding it intensely arousing to withhold Y/N's release while relishing the sensation of being inside her. He was confident she could endure it, knowing it would heighten their eventual climax.

As he continued to tease her, Cal couldn't help but revel in the feeling of being intimately connected with her. The warmth of her body embraced him like a comforting blanket, and the tight grip of walls around him sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.

“Come on, love,” he whispered against her skin when she did not respond. “Let’s meditate together for a while. I promise it’ll be worth it. And if you do well...” His hands moved up to caress her breasts gently, the soaked shirt offering no resistance as his thumbs teased her nipples while he waited for her response.

Y/N let out a frustrated groan, her body conflicted between longing for more stimulation and craving more of Cal’s teasing. With a glare aimed up at him, she took a deep breath and reluctantly relented. “Fine, fine… If I do well?” she huffed, attempting to divert her attention to the cascading waterfall instead of her yearning for him to resume his movements.

Cal gave her a knowing smile, raising an eyebrow as he slowly rocked his hips once more. “You’ll get to hear me moan your name.” He promised softly, his voice deep with desire and pure lust.

“I like the sound of that…” she whispered, her body slowly relaxing in his arms as she imagined him in the throes of pleasure.

“Good girl,” Cal praised her with a grin. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes again and focusing on the feeling of being connected to the Force. “Let’s continue then.”

Her cheeks flushed at his praise, and she did her best to calm herself. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against Cal’s shoulder. She reminded herself to be patient—to wait for him to give in. She knew it wouldn’t be much longer. He always succumbed to her eventually, but she had to applaud his self-control.

As they meditated together, the sounds of the waterfall and Y/N’s calm breathing began to fill Cal’s mind. He could feel the Force flowing through him, connecting him to the universe in a way that was both exhilarating and soothing.

Cal felt a warmth spreading through his body as he focused on the Force. The connection between him and the Y/N was intense, amplifying every emotion and sensation. He could feel her heart racing and her muscles tensing against him, mirroring his own arousal. His throbbing member was surrounded by Y/N’s soft walls, adding an entirely new dimension to the sensations he was experiencing. It was both stimulating and restrictive, pushing him to the edge of his control without ever fully giving in.

As the continued to meditate and share their intense connection, Cal felt himself growing closer to release. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer, the mix of pleasure from within her tight, warm folds and the Force’s energy being too much to ignore.

With a mischievous urge to challenge Cal's self-control, Y/N contracted her walls, squeezing him even tighter, hoping to coax him into losing control and finally making love to her.

The gentle contraction of Y/N’s walls was too much for Cal to bear. He let out a gasp, breaking the meditative silence as he thrust up into her, seeking release. He groaned her name, his body trembling with the intensity of the sensations coursing through him.

“Y/N!” He hissed through gritted teeth, still lost in the intense pleasure. “You promised!” He growled, but his voice betrayed the fact that he didn’t really mean it. He continued to pound into her eagerly, losing himself in the union of their bodies.

“So did you,” she cooed, cupping his stubbled cheeks in her soft hands and drawing his face closer to hers. Meeting him halfway, she pressed her lips against his in a tender kiss.

Cal’s anger dissipated as soon as their lips met. He pulled Y/N closer, deepening the kiss and letting out a moan of approval. His hands roamed across her body, touching every inch of her skin he could reach. He never wanted this moment to end.

“Now that meditation is over…” she whispered against his lips, moving her hips against him as his grip on her loosened.

“Yeah,” the redhead replied with a smirk, relishing in the feel of her body moving against his. “Now that it’s over…” His voice trailed off as he leaned in for another passionate kiss, letting their desire guide them.

With a sudden surge of strength, Cal pushed Y/N onto her back, sending them both splashing into the shallow water. He followed her down, his body pressing tightly against hers as he claimed her mouth once again.

The young woman eagerly intwined her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Enclosed by the shallow water and shielded by the waterfall, they were lost in their own private world.

With the sound of the waterfall, and Y/N’s soft gasps filling his ears , Cal lost himself completely in the moment. He moved his body against hers, their hearts beating in sync as he felt himself drawing closer to the edge once more. This time, he made no effort to restrain himself.

Cal held Y/N tightly against him, his arms braced on either side of her head. With each thrust, he buried himself deeper inside her, their bodies moving in a rhythmic dance of passion. He lowered one arm to tightly grip her hip as he felt himself reaching the brink.

Their bodies moved in harmony, their pleasure-filled moans muffled by the cascading water. Y/N clung to the redhead tightly, her legs wrapped around his waist, and urging him closer with each passionate thrust.

Feeling his climax approaching, Cal’s heart began to race and his muscles tensed. With one final thrust, he buried himself as deep inside her as he could go. Y/N’s name was a moan on his lips just like he had promised earlier as he released himself, filling her with his seed.

Y/N could feel her own muscles contracting as their bodies joined in this passionate union. Her muscles contracted around him and her walls tightening in a powerful release. She whispered his name, her eyes closed in ecstasy before she let out a long, drawn-out moan of pleasure.

As their passion subsided, they rested against each other, panting heavily. Cal gazed into Y/N’s eyes and saw a mix of love, satisfaction and adoration. He kissed her softly on the lips before pulling out of her and collapsing beside her into the shallow water.

Breathing softly, her hair splayed out in the water, Y/N rested on her back. “That was… pretty good…” she whispered softly, struggling to find the right words. She also realised that dusk was approaching, the sun beginning to set. She had lost track of how much time they had spent outside, and with good reason.

Cal chuckled softly, rolling on his side to face her. “Pretty good? I’d say it was downright spectacular.” He reached out to brush his fingers through her wet hair, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Yeah it was. Maybe we should meditate more often if it’ll end like this…” she said, smirking up at him.

Cal laughed again, his deep, warm voice rumbling in his chest. “I don’t think I could handle meditating with you too often, Y/N. You’re just too damn distracting.”

Giggling, she rolled to her side as well, mirroring his position, with her head cradled in one hand. The water rippled gently around them, the sound of the waterfall creating a tranquil atmosphere. “I’ll accept that as a compliment…”

“Oh, it’s definitely a compliment. But be careful, or I might just have to put you on a pedestal and admire you from afar.” His lips curled into a playful grin as he teased her.

“Admire me? As flattered as I am, is that all you’d do to me?” she asked, her voice husky and filled with desire, despite having just experienced mind-blowing sex with him moments ago. Her craving for the red-headed Jedi seemed insatiable.

Cal’s grin widened. “Oh, I could do a lot more to you, Y/N,” he purred, leaning in close enough for their bodies to brush against each other. His green eyes gleamed with amusement and desire.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

The redhead’s hand slid down her side, tracing along her hip and lower back before dipping between her legs. His have her a sultry look as his fingers teased at her sensitive flash through the water. “I could make you scream my name again…”

“I’d love that…” Y/N murmured, her playful demeanor giving way to a dreamy expression.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #female reader #cal kestis smut #star wars jedi survivor #star wars jedi fallen order #star wars #established relationship #meditation #minors dni #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #my writing #🥀 wallflower writes

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moongeonight · 8 months

Text

Crazy employees

Summary: Alastor feels the need to bother Lucifer for his own satisfaction, he decides that Niffty will do the dirty work.

A/N: I beat writer's block! For now... Tell me if you want a second part of this! (This is a tickle fic!)

(update) here part 2 👉🏼 Crazy employees part 2

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

It was a normal day at the hotel, Lucifer had decided to stay at Charlie's hotel for a few days to see how everything worked, with the misfortune of having to live with Alastor.

Let's say that Alastor... hated him, And he hated him too, every time they crossed paths for some reason, they exchanged murderous looks.

But it was Alastor who wanted to take the first step in this silent war, since he accidentally saw a scene of Charlie and his dad, he discovered quite valuable information.

he saw that niffty was killing cockroaches and his smile grew wider.

"niffty! Come here!"

The little demon quickly rushed to hear what the radio demon had to say and she replied without hesitation.

"Yes, alastor! What is it? Do you need me to kill more cockroaches?" Niffty said with her usual crazed smile.

"Not this time, I need you to do a job for me, it has to do with Lucifer"

Niffty’s face lights up in excitement, she is easily enticed by the mere mention of Lucifer as she asks with a crazy grin.

“What do you need me to do?”

"Oh, it's something very simple..." Alastor said whispering to her what his little plan was to annoy to that damn of Lucifer...

Niffty’s face lit up again when she heard the plan, She giggled with delight and grabbed her feather duster and said with excitement.

"Alright then! I’m on it!"

Niffty dashed off to get in position to catch Lucifer off-guard, giggling with anticipation for the upcoming caos.

Alastor just laughed as he disappeared into the shadows with a sadistic smile waiting to appreciate the spectacle from afar.

....

Lucifer was currently resting in a small armchair trying to ignore the annoyance that Alastor had been these days.

Him being annoying was nothing new but he seemed to have upped his assholery in recent days… it was really getting on lucifer’s nerves.

But while he was still in his thoughts, he suddenly feel a little demon snuck up from behind, giggling like a maniac, who gave Lucifer a slight tap on his side using a feather duster.

Lucifer jumps up in a bit of a panic, spinning round to see who was there.

“WHAT IN THE- Oh it’s just you um... Niffty right?….” He seemed to calm down as he sat back down in the chair, resting his head on his fist.

"W-what are you doing here?"

Niffty giggled with mischief, her excitement growing stronger as she spoke, her grin stretched across her face as she replied.

“I was just tidying the room and thought I should say hello!” She replied as if it were obvious, yet the mischievous twinkling in her eye was evident that she had other intentions at hand.

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, staring at Niffty with suspicion as he spoke slowly.

“Niffty… What are you really doing with that feather duster? Because... well it doesn’t look like you’ve done any cleaning at all” He said looking around the room in general.

She smiled in amusement at Lucifer’s suspicions, as he was quite obviously onto her.

“Well, maybe I might have other intentions with this feather duster, maybe something more nefarious!

As she speaks, she gives Lucifer a small little tickle on his side with the feather duster, It wasn’t too strong, but enough to catch him off guard.

Lucifer gasped and laughed as he was tickled. "Hehehey...! N-Niffty what are you-" He was cut off as Niffty continued to tickle him causing him to laugh more.

"Niffty! stohohop...! hehe... Hahahaha! p-plus I don’t think that feather duster is meant to be used on people… hahaha! plehehease put it down!” Lucifer sounded genuinely concerned at the moment.

Niffty couldn’t help but smirk and giggle at Lucifer’s reaction as his attempts to convince her to stop only made her giggle even more.

With him laughing so much, Niffty decided to take advantage of the situation and climb up onto his couch and cling to him with her arms wrapped around him.

“Hmm no no no!, we can’t have you being ticklish! We have to fix that!” She giggled as she began to tickle him even more, using both hands this time on his sides, making sure not to stop.

“WAIT! How is thihihihs supposed to hehehelp me?! Niffty! nononohoho! please st-stop! Hahaha! I’m too ticklish haha! O-oh god… that’s too much! Hehehe please… gasp stop! Hehehehe!”

Lucifer was really trying his best to free himself from niffty’s grasp but when he finally was able to grab her and throw her to the ground, she would just simply go back to climbing on him and continuing to tickle him.

He could feel himself being exhausted from the constant laughter as his breath became heavy.

“N-Niffty… plehehease! Hehe… st-stop! Hahaha! you’re gonna… hehe make… me hahahaha! p-pass out…!”

Niffty didn’t pay any mind as she saw his struggles, she only saw it as part of the fun.

“so ticklish, so much fun!” She giggled as she didn’t let up on the tickling. “Hehe, you’re not getting rid of me just yet!”

She used her now free hand and began to tickl under his arms, adding on to his many spots of ticklishness.

Lucifer let out a giggle of pure desperation as Niffty continued to tickle him until he began to feel his sides becoming sore as he began to squirm more violently.

“Niffty…! oh god HAHAHA!… PLEASE…! HAHAHA! I-I beg you n-not... t-the armpits hehehe…HAHAHAHA! NOT MY ARMPITS!” Lucifer began to laugh hysterically.

The demon simply giggled as she heard Lucifer’s pleas, she found it quite funny how desperate he was.

“Oh oh oh, ticklish armpits are we? Hehe how interesting!” Niffty giggled before wrapping her legs around Lucifer’s side as well, Now with both of his sides tickled mercilessly, his desperate laughs only fueled her excitement.

Lucifer had completely exhausted his voice at this point as Niffty was still doing her usual teasing, His muscles were tense and sore and his breathing heavy as Niffty had continued to tickle and hold onto him.

At this point Lucifer was just asking for help from Charlie or whoever would listen to him so they would take the crazy maid away from him.

Lucifer made a small and desperate squeak of embarrassment as he looked around desperately hoping someone could come and save him from niffty.

"CHAHAHARLIE! HAHAHA! Somebody...!! Plehehease take her off me!!"

suddenly lucifer heard footsteps approaching including slow applause.

"You did well niffty!" It was Alastor with his typical sadistic smile while Niffty smiled back at him and got off Lucifer to go with Alastor.

Lucifer was completely breathless as he took a second to calm himself before looking at alastor, his eyes narrowed as he looked at him.

So niffty was with alastor? ...Oh he was the one who told her to tickle me! That damn son of a bitch!

Lucifer was very obviously annoyed by alastor’s actions and wasn’t letting it slide, He was just about to yell at alastor for what he and niffty did but he was interrupted by niffty happily skipping along by alastor side before waving goodbye

Lucifer looked as niffty waved at him with a cheeky smirk before alastor dragged her away with him laughing the whole way.

"nice laugh your highness"

Lucifer sighed and put a hand to his forehead as he looked at the floor with anger in his eyes, he sat in his armchair in the hotel room just thinking about everything that had happened and was still fuming, he was still so angry at alastor for what he had put him through.

He wasn’t going to just let this slide, he was going to get payback and that’s final.

#tickling #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin hotel #lee!lucifer #ler!niffty #alastor #lucifer #thank you hazbin hotel for giving me back the desire to write #lucifer morningstar #tickle fanfiction #tickles #geowrites!

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pengujoon · 1 year

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WITH ALL OF ME

cont. gojo x reader, fluff. use of my love, just reader being so in love with him. of course they kiss, this is a very soft fic, established relationship!au, intentional lowercase.

a/n. can you tell that im so lovesick for his man.

song. john legend - all of me

the room was cast in a warm, inviting glow, the soft light of a dozen candles flickering like stars in the night sky. you and satoru had carved out this moment, a space for just the two of you, where the world outside was a distant memory. in this intimate haven, love hung heavy in the air, and your heart swelled with every beat in perfect harmony with his.

satoru sat beside you, his presence filling the room with a magnetic energy that drew you in like a moth to a flame. as you gazed at him, your heart couldn't help but swell with a deep, profound affection. his eyes held the universe within them, a cosmos of secrets and emotions that were yours to explore.

his smile, that mischievous, yet tender smile, was your favourite work of art. it had the power to chase away your worries, to melt your heart, and to ignite a fire of passion within you. when he laughed, it was as if a symphony of joy filled the room, and you couldn't help but be swept away by the melody.

you watched as he reached out, his fingers tracing an invisible path in the air. his voice, soft and filled with warmth, filled the room like a sweet serenade. it was a voice that could lull you to sleep or awaken the deepest desires within your heart.

every line of his face, every curve of his lips, and every spark in his eyes held a story, a story that you cherished, for you were the author of this chapter of his life. his vulnerabilities, his strengths, and his quirks were all part of the tapestry of your love.

satoru's hand found yours, fingers interlacing with a familiarity that sent shivers down your spine. the touch was electric, a connection that transcended words. in that moment, you felt like you were part of something greater, like you were two souls that had found their forever home in each other's arms.

the tenderness in his gaze was enough to make your heart skip a beat. his fingers traced delicate patterns on your hand, a silent language of affection that spoke volumes. every touch was a declaration of love, every caress an affirmation of your bond.

as you leaned in, your lips met his in a kiss that tasted like eternity. it was a kiss that spoke of a love deeper than words, a love that knew no bounds. in that kiss, you poured all your affection, all your desire, and all your dreams.

and as you pulled away, breathless and content, you whispered the words that your heart had been singing since the moment you met him. “i love you, satoru, with all of me.”

“my love.” he looked at you, his gaze unwavering, and in that moment, you knew that his love mirrored your very own. with a smile that held the promise of forever, he replied, “and i love you, with all of me too.”

no other words were needed, for your hearts spoke a language of love that transcended any language of the world. you closed your eyes and leaned in for another kiss, a sweet, tender affirmation of your love.

in the warmth of his embrace, surrounded by the warm, gentle light of the candles, you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be, living your own love song, a melody that would play in your hearts for all eternity.

the chokehold this man has on me

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk #jjk fics #penguwrites #jjk imagines #established relationship!au #all of me by john legend #reader is so in love with him

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inkabelledesigns · 11 months

Text

Belladonna Nightshade - Halloween Dark Fairy

Base Doll: G3 Twyla from Monster High Clothing Pattern: Dollightful's Asymmetrical Dress (read to the end, I have notes about this)

Happy Halloween everyone! Since becoming a doll customizer, my Halloween dolls are usually related to my favorite indie horror game, Bendy and the Ink Machine. However, seeing as I've completed two Bendy dolls already this year, I felt it was time to give myself a break and try something a bit different. My friends over in DollyAnna's Discord server wanted to do a collaboration, so we decided to all make some Dark Fairies for Halloween!

Belladonna Nightshade is a mischievous fae that loves to play tricks and tempt mortals. That said, she's easily bribed with a sweet treat or two, and will usually let you be if you have a little candy or pastry to give her. I haven't decided what I want to do with her yet in terms of a story, but there is a part of me that would love to have her in my Equinox story.

When you consider the fact that most of my other Halloween dolls are black and yellow, it's no surprise she ended up super colorful. XD Would you believe this is my first doll with rainbow hair? Yeah neither did I, but she is! Part of my style is having really colorful and vibrant dolls, it surprises a lot of people that I've never done a rainbow before, but honestly? I'm glad to have finally tackled one! I'm also glad to have worked with another G3. Twyla is very near and dear to my heart, and I was so psyched to work with her mold! You can't see it in any of these photos, but I used glow in the dark varnish on her eyes and neon markings, so that her eyes still glow like the original. I will say, this doll has a lot more acrylic paint than my others, just by the nature of I don't have any pencils in neon colors. It was nice to get the practice in, I feel more confident than I did before in my brush skills. It was also nice to have a doll with dark scleras for a change! I haven't done that since I made Dreamer, it's surprisingly fun to draw on!

I was inspired by a LOT of different things with this one, and I went back and forth on my concepts a lot. Black light skeleton make-up, butterflies, fairies with non-traditional wings, candy, jesters, these were all sources of inspiration, and I think most obviously of all, Dollightful herself. This wasn't intentional, but I ended up using a doll of one of her favorite characters, with a lot of saturated colors which we know she loves, and even her dress pattern! I've been wanting to make this garment for ages, and finally I had a reason to try it!

So those of you who know how this pattern works are probably asking "Kat, how did you make this fit a G3? This dress is supposed to fit a G1 Monster High doll!" Believe it or not, Requiem Arts has a method for easily adjusting G1 patterns to fit G3 bodies. It's as simple as scaling a pattern up to 104% and printing it that way. It's meant for her garments, but I don't see any reason why it wouldn't work for other doll patterns. So I tried it with Katherine's dress, and I'm happy to say it worked out just fine! I think I probably should have adjusted a bit more on the skirt though. This outfit is essentially two pieces, and the skirt with all the ruffles is a little tight around the booty, it could have used a little more sizing up. So if you own this pattern and want to try this yourself, do keep that in mind!

Do let me know what you think! I had so much fun working on Belladonna, she's so vibrant and fun, I wanna try more fairies like her someday. I also need to try using props more. I got these pumpkins and hay bales on sale, and it was fun using them to craft a little temporary set for photos.

#dollblr #doll customization #doll repaint #ooak doll #halloween doll #doll custom #custom doll #monster high g3 #monster high g3 twyla #monster high custom #monster high g3 custom #monster high repaint #doll photos #doll photoshoot #doll photography #ooak #monster high ooak #longpost

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stairain · 1 year

Text

Impatience.

Your patience was hardly that of a saint, so it’s no surprise when Spencer’s forced to leave work to fuck you.

Warnings: Sub Spence, female masturbation, fingering, missionary, quickie, degradation.

WC: 4.4K

It was like a force of habit at this point as you pick up your phone with a mischievous smile on your face, quickly opening Spencer’s contact and calling him. Sitting in bed, you listened as the tone rang as you waited for him to pick up.

No more than a few seconds pass before he’s picking up, his soft voice traveling through the speakers.

"Hello?"

Spencer was in the bullpen, his desk clear except for a cup of coffee and a few files piled in front of him. He was looking over one of the cases with an intent expression; until the buzzing of his phone snapped him out of his trance.

Leaning back against the headboard of your bed, you smile and speak in a gentle tone, not trying to give away anything just yet.

“Hi, baby.. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“No, no not at all. Everything’s good here, and I’m happy you called. How are you doing today? Is everything alright?”

He leaned back in his chair, listening to you intently. He was still busy with the case files, but right now you were more important and as usual, he dropped everything to care for you.

You take a deep sigh, clearly dramatic, as your next words have a hint of a pout laced in them. He knows you so well he can already imagine the expression on your face.

“I just miss you so much, baby.. I’m so bored at home alone without you here.”

He smiled. He was glad to hear you missed him, but he was also concerned that you were bored– he didn't like the idea of you being alone, worried at home. That wasn't right, but regardless, he couldn’t do anything.

"I'm sorry, baby."

Spencer paused to take a sip of his coffee, swallowing the hot liquid before he spoke again.

"Is there anything I can do for you? I can't get away right now, but let me know and I'll keep it in mind for when I come home tonight."

You can hear the ever so subtle implication in his words, and you bite your lip, running your free hand over your bare skin. Before you even called him you had already shed off all your clothing. You sat underneath the soft covers of your bed completely bare, but he didn’t have to know that.

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

Spencer's face flushed scarlet as you spoke. He realized what you meant, and he chuckled.

"Are you.." His tongue ran across his lips and he swallowed. "Are you implying what I think you are?" His heart was beating fast and he found himself short of breath already.

You go quiet for a few moments before speaking with a small moan accompanying your words. Having an inkling to what you were doing and yet not being let in on the details was driving him wild.

“Maybe I am.. I just miss you so much baby, I can’t help myself.”

He gulped, his thoughts spinning in his head and making him dizzy. It was a difficult position to be in, and he found his heart thundering in his chest as he weighed out his options.

“I..well, I miss you too. But-“ He hesitated, torn between what he wanted and what was right. “We..shouldn’t. What if someone found out?”

A soft groan leaves your lips and rings in his ear, taunting him. You swallow back another moan as you speak to him.

“Is there anyone near you right now?”

He glanced over his shoulder before he spoke, and then replied.

“Just my colleagues. They’re all busy working; they won’t hear us.”

Despite his words, his voice was still hushed. A little part of him knew it was wrong; and yet he wanted so badly to do it.

Your breathing quickens as you begin to touch yourself, gentle fingers running over your slickened folds, teasing yourself. Your soft and gentle sighs and moans travel through the speaker to his ears, he swallows, trying to ignore how quickly his cock fills in his pants.

“God I wish you were here, I need you so badly.”

Spencer glanced over his shoulder cautiously once more, but they were still all busy.

“I wish I was there too..I want you more than anything right now.”

“What would you do to me if you were here?”

You place the phone on the pillow next to your head and continue to run your hands all over your body. One was reaching up to cup your breast, and the other was toying with your clit.

Spencer sighed heavily, and swallowed. He had to try and keep this business-like; he was at work, he couldn’t let his feelings get too out of control.

“If I were there.. I-I’d kiss you.. and then I’d pull you close to me. And I’d..I’d hold you in my arms until we both fell asleep.” He was lying, of course, but he was trying very hard to be good and not tell you what he really wanted to do.

You scoff lightly in amusement before taking a deep breath and halting your movements.

“Do you have headphones, baby?”

He tilted his head, confused by the request. But he still found himself looking through his bag and cabinets for a pair.

“I do have headphones. Why?” He couldn’t understand how headphones were related to this conversation, but he was curious to see what you would say.

“You have a lot of work to get back to, don’t you, Spence?”

Dancing around his question, you inquire back to him. Your voice was sultry and seductive, he couldn’t possibly resist anything you said when you talked like this.

He gulped heavily, trying very hard to resist his temptation. But he was weak for you, and he was easily swayed when you spoke to him this way, or in any way, really. He would do anything you wanted.

"Ye-Yes..I do."

“Then, I want you to get back to those files of yours. Get your work done, but you have to listen to me touch myself to the thought of you while you work. Got it?”

Spencer gulped heavily at your words, a deep scarlet flush making its way into his cheeks and causing a small sweat to break out on his temples.

"R-right. Um, yes. O-okay."

He took his headphones from his bag and put them on, his hands shaking a little as he listened to your instructions. He sat back down in his chair, trying his best to get back to work.

“Good boy. I don’t want to hear a word from you, alright? Just focus on getting your work done.”

Your hand slithers down between your thighs as you speak, ghosting over your glistening cunt once more.

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer murmured. He was already getting more flustered than he liked. No noises–that was all he had to do. He focused on trying to work, doing his best to fight the urges he was feeling in his body. He struggled not to make a noise, to make any sound that would let everyone around him know just the kind of person he is.

“Wouldn’t want your coworkers to know how much of a slut you are for me, hm?”

The rhetorical question taunted him as you began to run your fingers over yourself, moaning teasingly at your own touch. Your finger swirled against your folds.

He gulped as he heard your degrading words, his heart beginning to pound hard as he heard the way you spoke down to him. He shifted uneasily in his seat, trying his best to resist the urge to respond to your words as his cock practically jumped in his boxers.

Moving your hands quicker over your sensitive skin, you tease him even further. The image of him falling apart in his chair, trying his hardest to focus despite you moaning into his ear so irresistibly, it was driving you crazy.

“I bet you’re so hard right now.. Hiding it under your desk.. God I wish you were here touching me instead.”

You sink a finger into your soaked hole, throwing your head back against the pillow and clenching your thighs around your own arm at the feeling.

The thought of you imagining him that way made him involuntarily groan, and he shifted in his seat again, the hardness in his pants quickly becoming unbearable. He was fighting for his life here, resisting like nobody's business.

He could hear his heart racing and he was sweating like an inexperienced marathon runner. But you were driving him wild– he knew he was exactly where you wanted him.

“Yes, ma’am.. I-I am.” His voice was shaky, his breath shuddering. He kept his eyes focused on his papers, not reading over a single word but instead just staring at the ink, entranced by you.

“I wish I could touch you, take care of you like you deserve.”

You pumped your middle finger in and out of you, just as he would. The same speed, same rhythm, in a fleeting attempt to replicate what it’d be like if he were actually here.

He shivered at the thought. His attention was torn–on one hand he wanted to keep working.. but on the other he needed this more than anything. His legs shook as he crossed his legs and desperately tried to resist.

He gulped. Your voice was so soft and sultry as you whimpered into the phone, and he found it nearly impossible to pull himself away. He could only imagine what you must be going through right now without him.

“Ma’am..”

You had him right where you wanted him. His breathing was heavy and uneven and it was beginning to sound like he might hyperventilate, but he was powerless to stop it now.

“Hm? What do you need, baby?”

Spencer tried to speak, but found it nearly impossible to formulate a proper sentence. His eyes squeezed shut as he settled for the easiest answer.

“Y-you.”

It was all he could force himself to say in the moment. His voice was strained and quiet, but he couldn’t take back what he said, nor did he want to.

“What about me, baby?”

“I think..I think it’s obvious.”

A low laugh comes through the phone, the sound making his heart stop.

“What, thinking about how badly you want to fuck me? Hm?”

His mouth dropped open as he heard your vulgar words, lips quivering.

“W-well, uh..I wouldn’t–wouldn’t say that quite like that.” He tried to laugh lightly, but it came out as a stutter. His face was burning hot, a dusty red blush covering his skin.

“How would you say it then, baby?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. He was trying to say the right thing without losing too much pride– and yet, you were making that impossible.

“Well..” He started, but stopped, cutting himself off. “I guess what I mean is..”

He sighed and was silent for a moment before admitting defeat.

“Well actually, I think that’s a pretty accurate way to put it.”

Laughing softly into the phone, you crane your neck back into the pillow as your ring finger joins the middle one sunken deep into your pussy. You can feel your stickiness coating your palm as you tease him.

“Yeah? How naughty of you, Spence. I bet you’re just a mess right now, hm?”

You had thrown him completely off-kilter, his mind spinning. He was actually making some progress with his work before you called, and now looking down at the paper was like deciphering an entirely new language.

How could you do this to him so easily? He thought he was strong, but he was weak in the face of everything you made him feel.

“Keep those pretty hands to yourself, baby.. If I find out you snuck off to the bathroom to touch yourself instead of waiting until you got home, there’ll be a problem. Understood?”

Your voice was breathy and trembling as the pleasure was growing and growing with each thrust you dealt to yourself. You were enjoying teasing him far too much, and it showed.

The threat of punishment sent a shiver through him but he couldn’t help feeling excited at the prospect of it as well– and so he swallowed and nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” He exhaled deeply, letting your noises flood his ears as his eyes slowly fluttered shut. But he was rudely forced out of his euphoric headspace when one of his co-workers came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance.

“Reid?”

Spencer jumped at the sound of his colleague. He was startled by the touch and clumsily took his headphones off immediately, knocking them off his head and into his lap.

“What is it?” He asked, still flushed. “Is everything okay?” He glanced around the room, looking to see who needed him. He had lost track of time for a few minutes, and now he was worried that people were wondering what he was up to this time.

When you heard Spencer go silent on the other end, and the faint voice of another person, a wicked smile crept onto your face. Your movements sped up and you almost choked on a loud moan that effortlessly spilled from your mouth. The phone picked up every noise from you, taunting him and blasting into the headphones that lay in his lap as he tried to speak to his coworker.

Spencer gulped heavily and his eyes widened almost comically at the sound of your cry. It sent a wave of excitement and nervousness through him even as he tried to regain his composure in front of his colleagues. His own breathing was labored and he could feel his heart beating faster than it had before. He cleared his throat and spoke in a quiet voice, praying that no one heard you.

“Sorry about that.” He said to his coworker, accidentally cutting him off as your noises only grew, no doubt trying to get him in trouble. “Uh.. I just got a call from my wife. Excuse me.”

He stood up and walked to a quieter corner of the room so that he could hear you better. He felt a dozen eyes watching him, and tried his best to ignore them as he fastened the headphones back on his head.

“Baby, I miss you so much. I need you so badly..” You dragged your voice out in a needy whimper, eyes rolling back into your head as the pleasure filled your body. The insides of your thighs were drenched and your walls were gushing your arousal against the blankets under you.

He shuddered and closed his eyes tightly. He struggled to breathe through it; his mind had gone blank and his muscles were tensing up.

“I..I need you too,” His words were soft and hoarse, a moan escaping his lips as he spoke. His hands were tight fists by his sides as his tongue darted across his lips, nails digging into his palm to try and keep himself composed. He kept his eyes closed tight, praying desperately that nobody would hear.

“Come home baby, please.”

Spencer glanced around the room, and saw that all his coworkers had gone back to their own work, thankfully not dwelling on his outburst for too long.

“I-I can’t.” He whispered back, “I have..work to do.”

His voice was quiet but his heart was beating fast and heavy. He had to be strong– he had to maintain his composure, and as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t leave his job unfinished. But at the same time, the idea of making you wait for him was almost unbearable.

Taking a staggering breath and removing your hands from yourself, you pant loudly and try to hold back another desperate moan.

“G-God.. Spence, I need you.”

Spencer heard the need in your voice and it filled him with guilt. He couldn’t tell you no, not when he was suffering through this too. “I need you too,” He whispered, his voice shaking as he looked up and around the room once again. His coworkers were still occupied, and he felt a sigh of relief.

“I’ll come visit you,” He whispered into the phone. “Tonight.”

With a pout, you shake your head and furrow your eyebrows.

“No.. No, Spence. Come now, please.”

He hesitated and bit his lip. He wanted to say no.. but you were being so insistent and he was powerless to say no to you.

“F-Fine, okay. But I’m not going to be there long.” His voice was hoarse and breathy, his heart racing. “Is that okay?”

A grin tugs at your lips, you always got what you want when it comes to him.

“I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Alright..I’ll leave now.”

He whispered, trying to push away the guilty feeling tugging at his mind.

“Don’t get into any trouble while I’m gone.”

Spencer’s face was a mixture of excitement and guilt, and yet he couldn’t contain his smile. You always knew how to charm him, and there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t give to go to you now.

“I’ll try my best, Spence.”

With that, you hung up on him and rolled over in your bed, triumph and success written all over your face. Spencer quickly shoved his phone into his pocket and walked back to his desk, frantically packing what he could up so he could leave as soon as possible.

He visibly flustered as he neatly stacked folders and papers in a pile on his desk, he could feel questioning eyes on him and he felt embarrassed about how quickly you had been able to take him away from his work.

He could feel his face burning, hot and red. He glanced around the room and he saw a few people looking over it in confusion. Spencer felt his face flush in embarrassment, and at the same time, he felt a sense of guilt at having abandoned his work in the middle of his shift.

“Where are you going?” His boss asked behind him, arms crossed over his chest as he glared at a very disheveled looking Reid.

Spencer's face flushed with shame, and he felt his heart rate picking up as he tried to come up with a quick lie.

"Uh..I have a family emergency," He said, hoping his boss wouldn't ask any more questions. He wasn't always the best at lying, but he hoped that would be enough to shut him up.

Without letting the other man respond, he turns around and quickly walks towards the elevator to leave without any further questions.

On the elevator, Spencer breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his body as his heart beated faster and faster. This was all so unreal. He never left work like this– never even thought of it. He couldn’t believe you had gotten him to do it just like that.. he was amazed at what you were capable of.

Less than fifteen minutes later, you hear him practically throw open the door to your bedroom, chest rising and falling rapidly as he looks breathless already. You saw the way his eyes almost immediately dilated when he saw your naked form laying on the bed, exposed and expecting him.

All you were wearing was a mischievous smile, one that begged him to just come over to you already.

“Welcome home, baby.”

Your voice comes out rather cockily, and you slowly spread your legs. He’s quick to walk over to you and press a hard passionate kiss against your lips. Your eyes flutter shut as you kiss him back with everything you could.

He slots himself between your legs, kneeling against the bed that you’ve already soaked for him. When he pulls away, he pants against your lips before hastily shoving down his pants and underwear.

“We have to be quick..”

And with how frantically he’s running the dripping tip of his cock against your silky folds, you know he’s serious. Spencer doesn’t waste another moment after he’s coated himself with your arousal before he’s pushing into your cunt.

His hips urge all of his length into you at record speed, pushing to the hilt and bottoming out like you’ve both been waiting for. You easily swallow everything he offers you, molding around him like no problem.

You can see the desperate shake in his arms as he cages you underneath him, forcing your thighs around his waist as he fucks into you like a rabid animal in heat. His eyes are dark and clouded with pure unbridled lust for you, and his moans are actually louder than yours are.

Parting your lips in a groan, you clench around him and look up at him. His heart almost stops when his gaze meets yours, his hands clenching into the sheets beside your head as he humps into you quicker and quicker. His pace is unrelenting and unforgiving as he plows you into the bed.

His thick and heavy cock was dragging in and out of you, thick head catching on the sticky folds of your cunt every time he pulled himself out of you. Huffing heavily through his nose, he buries his face into your neck.

His wet tongue pokes out and licks over a patch of skin, before he’s sinking his teeth into it. You yelp and your hands reach out to tug at the back of his head, pulling his hair just the way he always liked.

As you yank at his curls, you can feel the way his body almost collapses on top of yours, and you smile through a moan. You try to pull him away from your neck to get a good look at him, but he’s latched onto the skin of your throat, sucking a dark hickey into it like his entire future depended on it.

Spencer whimpers and finally lets go of your neck, licking over it once more in an attempt to soothe the wound. You capture his lips in a disgusting messy kiss, his spit slicked lips smashing against yours, teeth clashing against each other as you both exchanged your noises of pure pleasure.

His quick thrusts, although always frantic, soon became erratic. His hips were losing their rhythm as he looked up at you with an absolutely pathetic look of desperation that could make you laugh if not for how deeply he was impaling you.

“Come on, Spence. Be a good boy, you’ve gotta be quicker than that.”

You taunt, trying your best to keep up this persona even though you were absolutely losing it on his cock. Your hair was a mess on the pillows, your lips were a deep shade of red from how hard you were biting at them, and you were absolutely soaking the skin of his hips as he pistoned in and out of you in an unpredictable rhythm.

Spencer nods and mumbles something to himself, trying to encourage himself that yes, he needed to be a good boy for you, and yes, he did in fact have to be quicker than this.

He didn’t want to get back to work, he didn’t want to walk back into that building with his once neatly combed hair looking like he had been caught in a cat 5 hurricane, but at least he could bid farewell to that stupid walk he had to do to hide the erection pushing against his zipper.

As he pounded you into the sheets, he leaned down towards your neck again and began to suck another mark into the column of your throat, whining against the skin as he couldn’t help the noises that forced their way out of his mouth.

Both your thighs and pussy clenched around him, pulling him impossibly deeper and closer to you as you knew both impending orgasms were due any moment now.

And as if on cue, you squeeze around him even harder than he thought was possible, falling apart on his length and gushing your arousal around his thick shaft that split you open.

He pushes his body flush against yours as he buries himself to the very hilt, freezing up before he goes cross-eyed. He unlocks his jaw and lets go of your skin to practically scream.

You’d be surprised if your eardrum wasn’t shattered by tomorrow, with how fucking loud he was. Moans and whimpers spilled from lips as he pumped you full of his cum. White hot bursts of his arousal coating your insides, sticking to the plush walls of your cunt and dripping out of your slick folds.

He humps into you still, fucking you full of his release and pushing it deeper and deeper inside of you. His body was losing the rhythm it had once adopted, slowing down eventually as he forced himself to pull away from you.

Sweat dripped down his face, hair skewed in several different directions as the red sheen covered his features. With a last final thrust, he pulls himself out of you and presses a quick kiss to the side of your head.

You breathe heavily as you lean up on your forearms and watch as he hurriedly tugged his pants back up, legs shaking as he fastens the zipper tight over his spent and quite frankly still hard cock.

His cum is dripping out of you, no matter how hard to try and keep it in, you can’t stop the way it spills out of your stretched hole and sticks to the insides of your thighs.

When he looks as presentable as can be, he smooths his hands through his hair and looks over at you. You’re panting, laid out on the bed with a smile. Like a cat that caught the canary, you’re more than satisfied that you’ve gotten what you wanted.

Spencer shakes his head and leans down to capture your lips in one last parting kiss. When he pulls away, there’s a small string of spit connecting your mouths. His words are shaky as he speaks, and he wants more than anything to just stay here with you, but he had a job to do.

“I’ll be back tonight, I promise.”

And with that he’s back in his car, gripping the steering wheel like his life depended on it as he drove back to work. Hopefully his overly red face and wet skin would pass off as a result of stress, however, he knew he wasn’t that lucky.

Your impatience would no doubt get him in trouble, nevertheless there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than buried deep inside of you, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for that.

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