#and so sudden and made the game darker

[anantaru]

i hope someone dies in fontaine

[punkshort]

i know who you are | 1. the beginning

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.

Series Masterlist

Pain.

That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.

Then you smelled it.

The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.

You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.

You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?

Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.

You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.

The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.

Maybe you were dying.

Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.

"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.

"Jesse! Get her water!"

You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.

"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.

"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.

Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.

Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.

"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?

"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.

"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"

The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.

"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.

"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.

"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."

"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!

"First day of what?"

"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.

"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.

"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.

"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.

Then you saw the bodies.

Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.

"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.

"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.

"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.

"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."

"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."

"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.

"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.

You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.

So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.

"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.

You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.

"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.

"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?

"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.

"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.

"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"

"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."

"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.

You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.

"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.

"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.

You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.

At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.

This didn't seem right.

"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.

"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.

"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.

"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.

"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.

"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."

"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.

"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.

"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.

"Are we... together?" you asked him.

Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.

"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."

You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.

Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.

Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.

After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.

"Cordy- what?"

"Cordyceps," he repeated.

"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.

"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.

"How much is 'some'?"

"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.

"Ten years?!"

He nodded.

"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"

"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."

Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.

"That's the last day you remember?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.

Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.

"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.

Ten years.

Ten whole years, just... gone.

What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?

The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.

You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.

The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.

His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.

Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.

Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.

"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.

Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.

"It's too soon to say-"

"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.

"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.

"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.

You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.

His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't come near me."

He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?

"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.

"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.

"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.

The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.

"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.

You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.

"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.

"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.

"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"

Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.

"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.

"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"

"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.

"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.

"I don't want to go home with him."

Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's your home, too," he said.

"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"

Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.

"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."

You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.

"How long have I known him?" you asked.

"Five years."

You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.

"And how long have you known him?"

"All my life."

Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.

"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.

To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.

You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.

His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.

You still weren't sure who he was.

You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.

You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.

Well, second first impression.

Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.

"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.

The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.

"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.

The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.

You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.

"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.

"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.

"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.

"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.

"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.

"Sorry," you whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"

You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.

"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.

"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.

"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"

"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.

"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.

Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.

The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.

Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?

But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.

You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.

"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"

Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.

"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.

"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.

"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.

"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.

"Ellie?"

He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.

"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.

"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.

"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.

"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"

"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."

"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.

"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"

"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.

"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.

"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.

"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.

"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.

"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."

"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.

"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."

"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.

"You don't live here?" you asked her.

"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.

"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.

"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"

"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.

"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.

It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.

"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.

You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.

"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.

"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."

You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.

"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"

"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."

You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.

"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.

"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.

Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.

"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.

"I kept a journal?"

"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.

You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.

"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"

Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.

"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."

He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.

"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"

"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.

"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."

"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.

"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"

"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."

"And there's no cure?"

Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.

"No, there's no cure," he finally said.

You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.

"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.

"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.

"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.

"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."

Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.

"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.

Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.

"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.

"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."

Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."

"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.

"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.

"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.

"You sound pretty confident," you replied.

"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."

Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.

"Okay."

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[diejager]

Riding

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his head thrown back in the moment of exquisite pleasure. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re- tight!”

In a daze, he reached for your hips, warm palms clutching your naked flesh as he tried to ground himself, trying to stay coherent in the frenzy of sinful pleasure. You felt whole, squatting over him in the corner of the killer’s shack, skin bare and naked to his hazel eyes and hungry mouth. He watched you roll your hips, grinding yourself against the hardness of his cock, his trimmed hair tickling your nub, sending you both shivering. You from the constant stimulation, and him, from your sudden tightness around him. 

He arched his back, rutting into you, his strong arms moving along his shaft. It was a soft motion of pushing in and pulling out, in and out, again and again, until you were both panting and moaning for more. You met in the middle, your lips dancing across his in a passionate tango of love and obsession. You pushed off the ground, thighs burning at the work of riding him, he helped you move, supporting your weight with his hands and his hips thrusting upwards. 

“God-” he gasped, hissing when you bit his lower lip, pulling it when he tried to pull away. His chest rumbled in a low chuckle, pushing his body flush against yours and grinding into you. “You’re so fuckin’ hot.” 

You let out a cheeky laugh, hands roaming the expanse of his coat, nudging the flap away and running your nails over his tight muscles. You dug your short nails into him, hearing him groan, hips stuttering as you slammed down on his lap. He made the most addicting sounds you’ve ever heard, low and raspy, or deep and teasing. Danny had a way with words, his tongue singing the best songs one could wish to hear when he was moaning and groaning under you.

“I could tell you the same, Ghostie.”

He slurred out a moan at your nickname. He loved it when you called him Ghostie, you fully embraced his darker side, even playing little games with him when he asked. Maybe you were as sick as he was, wanting to give yourself to him, letting him fuck you however he wanted and giving him whatever he wanted. But he was as devoted to you as you were, he’d kneel and beg for you, he’d let you use him as your toy and he’d do anything for you. You were both a blessing and a curse to each other.

You gasped, back arching and eyes rolling. You clawed at his shoulder, drawing lines of beautiful crimson from your love down his chest as you rolled your hips. Danny hissed, driving skyward jerkily, biting back his moan as he came. He filled you in waves of potent cream, the white cum dripping down his balls and his puckered rim when it became too much for your tight snatch. He gave a few more thrusts, riding out your peaks until his cock grew soft and he supported your limp figure, tired and satiated. 

“Love you, doll,” he murmured, his swollen lips finding their rightful place on the crown of your head. 

“Love ya too, Danny.”

[rynwritesreid]

A night to remember-Spencer Reid

A/N: Okay, firstly thank you for all the love on mind-games, honestly I might post the next chapter next week but I am not sure. Also, for some reason even if you @ is correct and everything, some times tumblr won’t let me tag you :(

Summary: Spencer is back from prison, and he’s changed but not in all the ways you want. You discuss with Spencer something you’ve been wanting to try and he is willing to give it a shot.

Content: Post prison Spencer. Fem!reader. Mean dom spencer. Sub!reader. Pet names/name calling. Degrading kink. Overstimulation. Orgasm denial. Begging. Established relationship. Smut (and some fluff). Spencer asks a lot of time for your consent (as they should, especially if you are in BDSM dom/sub relationship). Begging. Sex toys. Virginal fingering. Handcuffs(slight bondage ig) 18+

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It wasn’t a secret that prison, and the whole Cat Adams situation, had changed Spencer. It was evident in the way Spencer carried himself, the hardened glint in his eyes that pierced through the darkness. The weight of his experiences behind bars had etched lines on his face, transforming him into someone unrecognizable.

 

He seemed darker; he didn’t seem to mind having to kill in order to protect anymore. He had told you on several occasions that he would kill for you, well his exact words were; “you I’d kill for you. I mean if anyone ever tried to hurt you, I would make sure that’s the last ever thing they’d do.”

 

Though Spencer had always been protective, this was new, and while the rest of the team knew what he had been through recently had changed him, they had no idea just how much it had changed him.

 

Spencer had also changed how he was at home; he was no longer ‘vanilla’, but he wasn’t exactly rough. He treated you like a princess; he would not let you go to sleep until he had at least made you cum twice. And while you loved this, you wanted him to be rough with you, degrade you, to spank you and to deny you the pleasure he so often gives you.

 

But you didn’t know how to bring this up with him. You didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable, or like he wasn’t good enough and that you weren’t enjoying what he was doing. However, you also knew nothing would change if you didn’t bring this up with him.

 

One evening, as Spencer cooked dinner for the both of them, you couldn't help but find the perfect opportunity to broach the subject. The room was filled with the aroma of his signature dish, a comforting reminder of the old Spencer, and you felt a pang of nostalgia.

 

As you sat across from him, you took a deep breath and began, "Spencer, I know things have changed since your time in prison, but I need to tell you something that's been on my mind."

 

He halted mid-stir, his knife-wielding hand trembling slightly. You could see the cogs turning behind his eyes, trying to process the implications of your words.

 

"I want to try something new in the bedroom. I want you to be rough with me, to dominate me, to make me feel as if I'm entirely under your control. I mean don’t get me wrong I enjoy what you do now, but I want this, I’ve wanted this for so long.”

 

Spencer set the knife down carefully on the cutting board, wiping his hand on his apron before turning to face you. The look of concern had faded, replaced by a hint of curiosity and intrigue. He had always been good at reading people; this was no different.

 

"Is that all?" he asked, eyebrows raised. "You want me to be rough with you? To dominate you?"

 

You nodded, glancing down at your own hands, fidgeting nervously in your lap. A sudden surge of heat filled your cheeks as you spoke, "Yes, Spencer. I want you to control me. I want you to take me in a way that I've never been taken before. I want to feel completely vulnerable and at your mercy.

 

It was a request he had never received before, but he saw the raw desire in your eyes. He could sense the urgency in your voice, and the hunger that was burning deep within you.

 

"Alright, but I need you to trust me," he said, taking a deep breath. "This will be different, and it might be intense."

 

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. You had never felt this way before, this desperate need to be dominated, to give yourself completely to him. The thought of it made you shudder with excitement.

 

“Well, we can’t do anything now, we need to eat, so you just sit there and look pretty for the time been while I finish dinner, okay?” Spencer chuckled under his breath, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The look in your eyes told him that this wasn't just some fleeting desire, it was something that had been simmering deep within you for quite some time. He knew that he had to tread carefully, as this was uncharted territory for both of them.

 

Spencer continued to prepare the meal, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He knew that he had to show you the intensity and control you craved without truly hurting you. He needed to make you trusted him completely, and only then could he truly take control.

 

As dinner was ready, Spencer dished up the meal and served it onto the plates. Sitting down, he took a moment to observe you. Your eyes were filled with a mixture of anticipation and a slight hint of trepidation. He knew you were scared, but he also knew that you trusted him enough to explore this new territory.

 

"You have my word," he said softly, looking directly into your eyes. "I'll take care of you, and I'll make sure you feel safe and cherished throughout this whole experience. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"

 

You looked into his eyes, feeling a wave of relief wash over you at his promise. Trusting him was easy, you knew that. You trusted him with your life, and that was no small thing.

 

"Yes, Spencer," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I trust you."

 

He smiled; relief evident in his expression. "Good," he said, taking your hand in his. "Then let's eat, and we'll talk about what this entails later."

 

As you ate, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within you. This wasn't just about trying something new; it was about exploring a side of your relationship that you had never dared too before. You knew it would be intense, but you trusted Spencer to guide you through it.

 

After dinner, you both sat on the couch, the dishes cleaned up and put away. Spencer turned to face you; his expression serious but gentle.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubts.

 

You nodded, taking a deep breath. "I trust you, Spencer. I know you'll take care of me."

 

He smiled, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "I won't let you down," he promised, his voice firm and reassuring.

 

With that, he leaned in and kissed you lightly, a tender touch that spoke of the trust and affection that had always been the foundation of your relationship.

 

You watched as he moved closer, his eyes never leaving yours. He kissed you again, this time with more passion, his lips lingering on yours. You could feel his hand gently brushing your hair off your face, his touch sending a shiver through your body.

 

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice low and intense.

 

You smiled up at him, your heart racing. This was it, the moment you had been waiting for. You knew that it would be intense, that it would test your limits, but you trusted him completely.

 

"I'm yours," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

 

Spencer slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. He could feel the heat radiating from your skin, a testament to the desire that was coursing through you.

 

He stood up, towering over you, his body tense with anticipation. You could see the change in him, the alpha male dominance that had been dormant for so long beginning to surface.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

 

You nodded, your heart racing. You were ready for this, ready to explore the darker side of your desires.

 

With that, Spencer reached down and grabbed your hand, pulling you to your feet. He led you to the bedroom, the air thick with anticipation.

 

As you entered the bedroom, Spencer turned to face you, his eyes burning with intensity. He was no longer the gentle man you had known before, but a powerful and dominating presence that filled the room.

 

"Kneel," he commanded, his voice thick with desire.

 

You quickly obeyed, your heart pounding with excitement as you looked up at him. He stood over you, his muscles tense, his eyes fixed on your face.

 

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice a low growl. "And you will submit to me completely."

 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself to him completely. He reached down and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

 

"Take off your clothes," he ordered, his voice firm.

 

You did as he commanded, feeling a thrill of excitement as you stripped down to your underwear. He watched you intently, his eyes never leaving your body. He knew what he wanted, and he was going to take it.

 

He took a step forward, touching your skin for the first time. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body.

 

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

 

His hands moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

 

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently. You arched your back, thrusting your chest out to meet his lips, and he took the other breast in his mouth as well.

 

He stood up, undressing himself as he did so. You watched, mesmerized, as his body revealed itself to you. He was everything you had imagined and more.

 

He stood in front of you, his erection hard and ready. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped you.

 

"No," he commanded, his voice firm. "I decide when you touch me.”

 

You looked up at him, your eyes pleading. You wanted so much to touch him, but you trusted him enough to follow his lead.

 

"Turn around," he commanded, his voice low and seductive.

 

You complied, your heart racing as you did so. You knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for, and you were ready to give yourself to him completely.

 

Spencer stood behind you, his hands resting gently on your hips. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, "You're mine, and I'm going to take you in ways you've never imagined before."

 

He slowly began to touch your skin, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, the soft skin of your stomach, and the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. You shivered, feeling a flood of pleasure course through your body. His fingers moved up to your breasts, cupping them in his large palms, kneading them gently. You moaned softly, your desire for him growing stronger by the second.

 

Spencer's lips met your neck, his tongue tracing the curve of your throat, and his teeth gently nipping at your skin. He moved down to one of your breasts, taking it into his mouth and sucking it gently.

 

"You ready for this?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

 

"Yes," you whispered, your voice shaking with anticipation.

 

As you spoke, you felt his hands on your waist, pulling you closer. His erection was now pressed against your back, a reminder of what was to come.

 

He guided you towards the bed, gently placing you down on the soft sheets. You could feel the anticipation building inside you, your heart pounding with excitement.

Spencer climbed on top of you, his body hovering above you. He looked into your eyes, his expression intense and full of desire.

 

"Are you sure about this?" he asked one last time, his voice deep and commanding.

 

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "I trust you," you whispered. "I'm yours."

 

With that, he leaned down and kissed you passionately, his lips crushing against yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring, and tasting you, as if to mark his territory.

 

You could feel his breath against your skin, hot and ragged, matched only by your own. His hips moved against yours, his erection pulsing with desire, and you knew that this was it. This was the moment you had been waiting for, the moment when you would give yourself completely to him.

 

He slowly pulled away, his eyes never leaving yours. He traced his fingers along your jaw, his touch gentle but firm. You could feel the tingle of his fingers on your skin, a reminder of the journey you were about to embark on.

 

He reached down and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. You felt the rush of dominance that flowed through him, a primal instinct that had been dormant for so long but was now fully alive.

 

"You're mine," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "And you will do as I say."

 

His eyes bored into yours, filled with a fierce intensity that made your heart race even faster. You could see the animalistic hunger in him, the raw desire that couldn't be contained any longer.

 

He leaned down and nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, causing you to moan in pleasure. You could feel the heat of his body against your own, and you knew that there was no turning back now.

 

Spencer's lips moved up to your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, "You're going to love this."

 

You felt his erection throbbing against your thigh, a reminder of what was to come. You were ready for this, ready to give yourself completely to him.

 

He slowly moved his hand down your body, trailing his fingers along your side until they reached your inner thigh. You could feel the heat and desire radiating from his body, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

 

As his fingers brushed against the sensitive skin near your core, you felt a surge of pleasure and arousal coursing through your body. You arched your back, pressing yourself against him, wanting more.

 

Spencer's hand continued to explore your body, moving lower and lower until he finally reached your most intimate place. He slowly slid one finger inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that welcomed him.

 

You moaned softly, your body trembling with pleasure as his finger moved inside you. He pulled it out and brought it up to your lips, smearing your essence on them.

 

"Taste yourself," he commanded, his voice deep and authoritative.

 

You complied, licking his finger clean, savouring the taste of your own desire. It only fuelled your desire for him even more.

 

"You taste delicious, don’t you," Spencer whispered, his eyes burning with desire.

 

With his other hand, he slowly pulled your legs apart, spreading them wide open for him. You could feel the heat between your legs growing, and you knew that this was the moment you had been waiting for.

 

As his fingers continued to explore your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you like a tidal wave. You knew that you were completely at his mercy and that he was going to take you to places you never thought possible.

 

Spencer's hand continued to move between your legs, teasing and taunting you with its every touch. You were more than ready for him, your body trembling with anticipation, and yet he seemed to want to savour this moment.

 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath coming quicker and quicker as you felt his fingers slowly enter you again. This time, he didn't stop, pulling out and plunging back in, faster and harder with each thrust.

 

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his voice ragged with desire. "I want you so bad."

 

You could feel his erection pressing against your thigh, throbbing with need, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you.

 

"I'm going to make you scream my name," Spencer promised, his voice low and sultry.

 

As he continued to thrust into you, his fingers moving in and out of you in a rhythm that was both maddening and intoxicating, you couldn't help but moan softly, your body arching in response to his touch. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second.

 

“You look so beautiful like this, surrendering yourself to me, letting me make you moan like the slut you really are.” He whispered; his voice filled with lust.

 

Your body trembled in response, your arousal increasing with every word. You knew that you were completely at his mercy, and you loved every moment of it.

 

Spencer's fingers continued to move inside you, pulsing rhythmically with his thrusts. You could feel his erection growing harder and thicker against your thigh, and you knew that he was close.

 

"I want to hear you scream," Spencer hissed.

 

Just as you were about cum, he pulled a way, a small smirk on his face.

 

“Did you think I was going to let you cum that easily?” he asked, his voice filled with amusement.

 

You gasped, your body flush with disappointment but also anticipation. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was thrilling.

 

Spencer leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you beg for it," he whispered, “and remember when you are begging for it, you asked for this, you wanted this.”

 

He slowly put his fingers back in you, but his pace no longer fast, it was slow, and it was deliberate.

 

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, your body craving the release that he was denying you.

 

“Is that all you’ve got baby? And is this all it’s taken me?” he taunted, his lips still brushing against your ear. "You're going to have to do better than that, little one."

 

His fingers moved in and out of you, teasing your most sensitive spot, and you knew that he was going to make you beg for it. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your body trembling with the need to cum.

 

And just like before he stopped, he wasn’t going to give in even though it was killing him not too. Your eyes were pleading with him, begging him to continue, but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen.

 

“Now if I remember correctly, you brought toys to replace me while I was gone, didn’t you?” he smirked, his eyes locked on yours, “I think it’s time to put them to use.”

Spencer’s eyes were scanning the room, trying to see where you might have put them, he knew it wouldn’t have been in any of the normal places. That’s when his eyes landed on the wardrobe, and he looked back at you.

 

“I can see that look in your eyes, baby. You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and seductive. “Now did you hide them in there, princess?”

 

You nod yes, unable to form any more words as you feel a surge of anticipation and desire.

 

Spencer walks over to the wardrobe and opens it, revealing a small collection of sex toys that you had purchased while he was away. He grabs a vibrator and a pair of handcuffs, his eyes never leaving yours.

 

"I knew you couldn't resist," he smirks, his voice filled with victory. "Now, let's see how much you can take, shall we?"

 

He walks back over to you, the vibrator in his hand, and secures your hands above your head with the handcuffs. You struggle slightly, but the desire coursing through you is too intense to resist.

 

You watch as Spencer approaches you, his eyes burning with hunger. He runs the tip of the vibrator along your sensitive skin, teasing you mercilessly.

 

"This is going to feel so good, baby," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. His tone is commanding, and you have no choice but to obey.

 

He turns on the vibrator and presses it against your clit, and you let out a soft moan. The sensation is intense, and you can feel your body responding to it.

 

"That's it, baby," Spencer encourages. "You're so wet, so ready for me."

 

He pushes the vibrator inside you, and you feel it pulsate against your inner walls. "Take it all, you slut."

 

Your eyes roll back as the sensation overwhelms you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. Spencer smiles slyly, watching as you lose control.

 

"There's my good girl," he purrs. "You're such a dirty little slut."

 

He increases the speed of the vibrator, and you arch your back, trying to get closer to the pleasure. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body trembling with each pulse of the vibrator.

 

"Please," you whimper, your voice barely a whisper. "Don't stop."

 

Spencer grins, his eyes locked on yours. "Not yet baby. I want to see you beg for it."

 

He pulls the vibrator out of you and turns it off, leaving you desperate for more. You look at him in desperation, your pupils dilated, your breathing ragged.

 

"Please, Spencer," you beg, your voice shaking with need. "Please, I need it so badly."

 

He smirks at your desperation, his eyes never leaving yours. "You want it?”

 

With a sly grin, he takes the vibrator and runs it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You can't help but moan softly, your body arching towards him in response.

 

"Beg for it, baby," he commands, his voice a mix of desire and amusement. "Tell me how much you need it."

 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your desire for him growing stronger with each passing second. "I need it so badly, Spencer. Please, I'm begging you."

 

He chuckles softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "That's my good girl. You know exactly what you want."

 

And with that, he pressed the vibrator back inside you, and you let out a loud moan of pleasure. It felt amazing, better than anything you had ever experienced before. He continued to tease you with the vibrator, moving it in and out of you, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

 

"Please, Spencer," you pleaded, your voice shaking with need. "Please let me cum. Please make me cum."

 

He smirked at your desperation; his eyes locked on yours. "You're going to have to beg for it, my dear," he said, his voice low and sultry.

 

But you didn't care. You needed this. You needed him. And so, you let out a desperate moan, your body trembling with the need to cum. "Please, Spencer," you pleaded, "I need it so badly. Please make me cum.”

 

You were past the point of no return, Spencer's commands and denial only adding fuel to the fire. Your body was on fire, desperately craving the release he was denying you. You knew you could take it no longer, and yet, you found yourself begging for more.

 

"Please, Spencer," you moaned, your voice pleading. "Let me cum."

 

He chuckled, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. "Not yet baby. I want to draw this out," he said, running the vibrator over your clit, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

 

"Please, Spencer," you begged, your voice hoarse. "I need it so badly."

 

He smirked, a devilish look on his face. "But you're forgetting something, you asked for this. You wanted to be treated like a slut, but now you’re begging for me to make you cum?”

 

You knew you needed to beg for it. You needed to surrender to him, to let him have control over your body, your mind, your very being.

 

"Please, Spencer," you whimpered, "please make me cum. Please, I can't take it anymore.”

 

He took the vibrator and ran it along your outer lips, teasing you mercilessly. You could feel the pulsating sensation building up inside you, your body arching towards him in response.

 

"Please, Spencer," you begged. "I need it so badly."

 

He chuckled; his eyes locked on yours. "You really are a dirty slut, aren't you?"

 

You nodded, your mind reeling with the intensity of the experience. Spencer did take some pity on you; he could see your eyes were filling with tears and he did love to watch you cum.

 

"That's it, baby," he whispered, his voice full of desire. "Beg for it, let me hear how much you need it."

 

You choked out the words, your voice rough with need. "Please, Spencer. Please make me cum. I need it so badly."

 

He smirked, his eyes never leaving yours. "Well, aren't you the perfect slut?"

 

With that, he turned on the vibrator and ran it over your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, your hips bucking against the vibrator.

 

"That's it, baby," he urged, his voice filled with command. “Cum for me, letting me see what I can do to you.”

 

And with that, you felt the orgasm building up inside you, closer and closer until you couldn't take it anymore. You let out a loud moan of pleasure, feeling the waves rush through your body as you finally succumbed to the desire that had been building up inside you.

 

"That's it, baby," Spencer said, his voice filled with triumph. "You're mine, every bit of you, and you'll never forget this moment."

 

You lay there, panting and sweating, feeling completely spent. Your body was trembling, your mind was still reeling from the sensations you had just experienced. You felt like you had been pushed to the limit and beyond, but you also knew that you had never felt more alive.

 

As you lay there, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm, you couldn't help but feel a sense of submission, a feeling of being completely under Spencer's control. You knew that you had begged for it, and you had enjoyed every moment of it.

 

Spencer leaned down and kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "That was incredible, baby. You'll always be my dirty little slut."

 

You couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of pride in the role you had played in this scene. You knew that you had given him exactly what he wanted, and that feeling of power was exhilarating.

 

“Now I am going to go get some water, because that was intense.” You watched as Spencer got up to go get some water, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for him.

 

You knew that Spencer was also going to need so aftercare, because that was his first time doing something like this, but you also knew you were going to have to drink before you could do anything.

~join the taglist~

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[natsaffection]

Mafias Mistress pt. 5 | N.R

MafiaBoss!Natasha x CivilianYounger!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! Age gap (Natasha is 32 = reader ist 22) BDSM STUFF - Restraints, spanking, flogging, vibrator use, nipple clamp use, edging, overstimulation, strap on (r receive), fingering, choking, rough sex

Word Count: 3,8k

A/N: Pure Smut below..we are slowly coming to the end🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

You were startled awake by the sound of your bedroom door bursting open. You sit up, eyes widening, and see Natasha standing in the doorway, her expression a mixture of anger and urgency. The morning light casts long shadows in the room, making Natasha's presence even more imposing.

"What do you want?" you ask annoyed. You had hoped for some peace and quiet, but Natasha's sudden appearance dashed that hope.

Natasha walks into the room, her eyes flashing, "I have a high-ranking visitor today. Important people here for business. You are not leaving this room tonight. Do you understand me?"

You crossed your arms, your irritation growing. "And why would I ? Are you afraid of embarrassing you?" Natasha's eyes narrowed. "I'm not in the mood for games, Y/N. If you leave this room tonight, you will suffer the consequences. Serious consequences.”

You feel a spark of defiance flare up inside you. “We’ll see.” Natasha leans closer to you, her voice a deadly whisper. “I’m serious, Y/N. Don’t test me.”

As Natasha leaves the room and slams the door behind her, your mind raced. You knew this was your chance to get revenge on Natasha for the humiliation you endured last night. An idea began to form and a determined smile spread across your face. This time you will win, consequences or not.

As the evening came, the mansion bustled with activity, you made your move. You chose a short, form-fitting dress, the fabric shimmering in the light. It was provocative, designed to attract attention and elicit a reaction from Natasha.

You decided to forget underwear, knowing it would drive Natasha crazy. With one last look in the mirror, you take a deep breath and leave your room. The halls were filled with Natasha's men, their eyes widening in shock and fear when they saw you. You move purposefully, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Maria spots you first, her eyes widening in horror. "Y/N, what are you doing here?" she whispered urgently. "She kill you first and then me. Go back, I mean it."

You grin, your defiance only growing. "Don't worry, Maria. "Just look." As you walked through the mansion, you could feel everyone's eyes on you. The tension in the air was palpable, a mixture of fear and excitement. You finally reach the main hall, where the high-ranking visitors mingle.

Natasha had been speaking to a visitor, a man with a smug expression and a condescending tone. He leaned closer to Natasha, his gaze wandering around. "You know, Natalia, you always manage to keep things interesting. That girl over there," he said, nodding toward you, "looks like she's here to entertain us."

Natasha followed his gaze and her blood froze when she saw you. The dress was short, far too short, and every curve was provocatively accentuated. Natasha's grip on her glass tightened, the warning she had given you earlier ringing in her ears.

"Excuse me for a moment." Natasha walked toward you, handed her glass to a nearby waiter and stopped you in your tracks, "What the hell are you wearing?" Natasha hissed, grabbing your arm and pulling you to the side. The grip was firm, but not painful.

You looked up at her, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "A few thousand of your dollars," you answered casually. "The dress is so short, you don't even have to take it off."

Natasha's eyes sparked with anger and something darker, more primal. You took Natasha's hand and slid it between your thighs. Her breath caught when she realized you weren't wearing any underwear.

"You think this is a game?" Natasha whispered, her voice a mix of anger and desire. "You think you can just walk out of here like that?" Your heart raced, but you kept your composure, "Maybe I do," you answered firmly. "Maybe I wanted to know if it still meant something to you."

Natasha's hand tightened around your thigh, her breath hot against your ear. "Oh, it means something to me," she whispered, her voice full of promise. "But you're playing with fire." Your body shook with anticipation, your pulse quickened. "Maybe I like the heat," you whispered back, your voice barely audible.

Natasha's control wavered, her eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and desire. "You have no idea what you're doing," she said, her voice strained. You leaned closer, your lips touching Natasha's ear. "Then show me," you challenged, your voice a seductive whisper.

For a moment, Natasha's anger seemed to disappear, replaced by a burning desire. She pulled you closer, your bodies pressed together. "You want to play games?" she murmured, her voice a low growl. "Let's play."

You caught your breath as Natasha's hand slid further up your thigh, her touch possessive and tender at the same time. “I’m not afraid of you,” you whispered. “Not anymore.”

Natasha's eyes darkened, her grip tightening. "You should be," she whispered back, her voice a dangerous promise. "Oh, and when I'm done with you, you'll know exactly why."

Just as the tension between you reached its peak, Natasha pulled back abruptly. She signaled to two of her men who were quickly approaching. "Take her to my room," Natasha ordered, her voice cold and commanding. "And make sure she doesn't come out."

The men nodded with serious expressions as they grabbed you by the arms. You struggled against their grip, fear creeping into you as you realized Natasha was serious. The men were rough, dragging you through the mansion to Natasha's private quarters.

"Natasha, hey!" you shouted, your voice shaking. "You can't do that! Natasha!!" But Natasha's face remained a mask of anger and determination. "You wanted to play games, Y/N. Now you'll see what happens."

You were pushed into Natasha's room, the door slamming behind you. The men stood guard outside, their presence a reminder of Natasha's authority. Your heart raced, the reality of the situation sinking in. Shit..

In the silence of the room, you could hear your own heartbeat, fear mixed with lingering desire. You realized you had underestimated Natasha's anger and thought it was all an act. But Natasha's anger was real, and you were now trapped by your own actions.

As the minutes passed, your nervousness grew. You had to find a way to make things right, to maybe calm Natasha down after all. You approached the door and knocked softly. There was no answer, just the oppressive silence and the presence of the guards outside. You sank to the floor, your mind racing.

Hours had passed since Natasha had ordered you to be taken to her room. The villa had gone quiet, the high-ranking visitors gone, leaving an atmosphere of tension and unease. You sat on the edge of the bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Natasha and the consequences of your actions.

Outside, Maria approached cautiously, her voice gentle. "Natasha, you have to calm down. This won't help." Natasha's eyes flashed with anger. "She thinks this is a game, Maria. She doesn't understand the danger she's in."

"Then show her," Maria suggested quietly. "But not as you are now. Talk to her. Help her understand." Natasha looked at her and took a breath. She ran past Maria, "Not today."

The door squeaked open and your heart was in your throat. Natasha stood in the doorway, her expression unreadable, a dark intensity in her eyes. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her with a soft click. "Natasha," you began, your voice shaking. "I-"

"Enough," Natasha interrupted, her voice cold and commanding. "You've gone far again today." Before you could react, Natasha grabbed your arm and pulled you to your feet. The grip was firm and unyielding, sending a shiver of fear down your spine. "Natasha, please, I'm sorry..." you begged, but Natasha's expression remained hard.

Without a word, Natasha led you down the hallway, never loosening her grip. You descended a staircase you'd never noticed before, the air growing cooler and more threatening with each step.

You reached a heavy wooden door, which Natasha pushed open, revealing a dimly lit room with an array of appliances and devices. It was Natasha's playroom. Bigger, redder and much more equipped than the room in Natasha's apartment.

Adrenaline rushed through you as you realized what was coming. "No, Natasha, wait," you begged, trying to pull away. Natasha's grip tightened, her eyes dark with determination. "You wanted to play games, Y/N. Now you'll see the consequences."

She pulled yourself in front of her so she could look at you. She paused for a moment and looked deep into your eyes. "Do you remember your safe word?"

You blinked, your confusion evident. "Yes," you answered, your voice shaking slightly. "Red." Natasha nodded, a hint of relief crossing her face. "Good. Remember, you can use it anytime. I won't stop otherwise."

She dragged you to a large, imposing X in the middle of the room that was equipped with restraints. With practiced ease, Natasha tied your wrists and ankles to the posts so that you stood stretched out and vulnerable.

Natasha paused, her eyes softening for a moment before she steeled herself. "You have to understand something, Y/N," she said with a low growl. "My world is dangerous. You can't just play games and expect there to be no consequences."

Your heart pounded in your chest, your fear mixed with a strange feeling of anticipation, and you remembered why you got into this situation in the first place. You have a goal.

"Maybe I'll enjoy the consequences?"

Natasha's eyes flickered with emotion, but she remained determined. "We'll see about that," she growled. Her voice held a promise that took your breath away with anticipation. With practiced ease and skill, Natasha leaned forward, running her fingertips along the curve of your arm and down to the soft curve of your chest. "You will learn to submit," she whispered, her fingers playing with the goosebumps that formed before her touch. “What you saw back at home is nothing compared to this."

Your pulse quickened as Natasha moved behind you. You felt the cool touch of a leather whip sliding down your back and couldn't help the involuntary trembling. "Oh, I like that trembling," Natasha cooed in your ear, biting your earlobes. "I'm going to enjoy this more than you..."

The scent of your arousal filled the air, an intoxicating aroma that Natasha didn't want to deny herself. She slid a hand between your thighs and rubbed your wet pussy lips, eliciting a gasp from you, the frightened but eager newcomer.

"Open your mouth," Natasha ordered, her voice rough and commanding. You obediently opened your lips and Natasha slid two fingers into your mouth, rubbing them firmly against your tongue and gums. "You do realize that you're not supposed to like this, right?"

You moaned, filled with a mixture of fear and desire as your body shook in response. With a cruel glint in her eyes, Natasha filled your mouth and with her other hand she pinched and pulled cruelly at your nipples.

"That's it, take it all," Natasha hissed, her voice almost a growl now. "Show me how much you want it." You moaned and your head fell back against the iron cross. You could hear the wetness between your legs dripping onto the smooth leather carpet beneath you.

The sound of the whip falling onto your skin sounded like a gunshot in your ears, sending shocks of pleasure and pain throughout your body. Natasha ran the evil instrument down your back, thighs and buttocks, letting its cruel spikes bite deep into your skin.

You struggled against your bonds, lost somewhere between agony and ecstasy. Natasha paused, her attention lingering on the delicate skin at the crease where your legs met her body. You tensed as you felt a soft feather tickle you, and you broke out in a cold sweat.

“shh,” Natasha whispered, “just feel.” She pulled the feather higher, reaching your quivering sex. Your head fell back in surrender as you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt the sting of the feather disappear, replaced by the delicate caress of something softer, a feather-light touch just beneath your sex. You winced as Natasha’s lips found the sensitive underside of one of your breasts, sucking and nibbling hungrily.

“Fuck!” you screamed, your hips bucking toward Natasha’s mouth just as she felt the cruel bite of the whip on the exposed curves of your ass. Natasha grinned and dragged the leather instrument teasingly across your folds. “Beg,” she purred, tugging at one of your sensitive nipples with her teeth.

You whimpered and struggled against the bonds as Natasha’s harsh words sent waves of shame and desire through you. "Make me." You gasped, grinning in her face. Natasha ripped the dress off of you, leaving your stomach bare and trembling. Suddenly, cool metal closed around your nipples and a rush of pleasure ran through your body as the metal began to vibrate.

"W-What.." you gasped, struggling against the bonds that pinned you to the cross. Natasha's grin widened at your reaction and she twisted one of the clamps before another low hum filled the air.

"You should hold still while I do that," she purred as she moved the vibrating object over your sensitive clitoris, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No, Natasha! I-I- Too much..!" You tried to catch your breath as the sensations overwhelmed you. The clamps pulled on your sensitive nipples, increasing each touch. "Natasha...please, n-no more!!" you whimpered. But Natasha just laughed softly.

"Oh, my love, we're just getting started," Natasha teased, running her tongue over your heaving breast. She pressed the vibrating object harder against your clit, making your hips twitch helplessly.

"F-FUCK!" you screamed as you writhed in the leather restraints. Your body burned; all reason dissolved in the rush of pleasure. Your legs and chest twitched uncontrollably, seeking any friction to quell the pain that demanded release.

Natasha kept her eyes fixed on your writhing object as she played with the vibrating device, running it up and down your labia and teasing your throbbing clit. With each pass, she felt your desire grow as your resolve weakened. "I-I'm begging you! Ple-ase!" you gasped, your voice a hoarse plea.

Natasha stood there, enjoying the sight of the shaking, exhausted girl before her. For now, she was content to watch you tremble and pant with a deliciously dazed expression on your face.

Natasha growled deep in her throat as she slid her hand between your legs. "Oooh, God-d!" you cried out, your already flushed cheeks glowing even hotter. "You don't need him," Natasha chuckled darkly into the folds of your wet entrance. She enjoyed the way you tensed and writhed against her. "Just me," Natasha teased, pressing her fingers into your heated core in one quick, unyielding motion.

Your eyelids fluttered closed as Natasha mercilessly added a third finger, stretching you wide. Your heart was pounding wildly and your mind was reeling - a dizzying cocktail of pain and rapture.

Natasha seized the opportunity, her lips grasping the sensitive outline of your tight bud as she pushed her fingers deeper inside you. You cried out once more before your orgasm fully took hold, increasing tension gripping your entire body as the waves arched and crashed over you.

Natasha let you ride the wave before she pulled her fingers back. “Your pretty ass is about to be mine." With a quick movement, she ran her nails along the crack of your ass.

"N-No!" you cried, your body tense as Natasha stood behind you. "Relax or it will hurt even more," Natasha ordered, spanking your ass hard. Your body twitched violently, pushing the restraints further.

"Listen carefully," she said, admiring your shaking body from behind, "You will count out loud with each lash of my whip. If you fail, I will start over. Do you understand?"

You whimpered and nodded your head vigorously. Sweat ran down your forehead and you could feel the heat radiating from Natasha's body, the woman's skin seemed to burn. And then came the first lash.

"One," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the blood pounding in your ears. Natasha smiled, her eyelids drooping lazily as she raised the whip high above her head.

A wicked glint danced in her deep green eyes, and you could feel your breath catch in your throat as the whip came down again, landing hard on your trembling, flushed skin.

"Two..." you let out a sigh as a deep, painful throb raced through your body. You weakly struggled to find purchase against the shackles around your wrists and ankles, but it was useless. You had nowhere to go and you had no choice but to hold on.

Your breathing became shallower and more desperate as the seconds ticked by, your head a whirlwind of emotions. Natasha kept her eyes on your beautiful, trembling form as she mercilessly swung her whip, marking your flesh with each strike. Your body arched with each strike, your cries mingling with Natasha's own animalistic growls.

Finally exhausted, she lowered the whip and let it hang limply from her hand. The sickly, sweet smell of sweat and desire hung in the air as Natasha strode toward you, her gaze fixed on the exhausted subordinate's trembling physical form.

With a wicked, lustful grin, Natasha knelt before you and pushed your ankle shackles apart, revealing the pink welts that marked your bottom, still glowing from the cruel discipline you had just endured.

"Would you like to try counting again, my love?" Natasha purred, her voice dripping with malice. You shook your head, your exhausted body desperate and still shaking from the intense burn of the whip.

"I d-don't, I can't...anymore," you said exhaustedly. "We'll see," Natasha's voice sounded cold and threatening above you, as she released your bonds, your arms fell limply to your side and your legs had no strength to hold you up. Natasha caught you and carried you over to a bed.

She leaned closer, examining the marks she had left on your supple skin, then ran her fingers over the angry red lines. "Does it hurt?" Natasha whispered hoarsely in your ear, her warm breath causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. "Answer me," Natasha demanded, her voice harder now. "Do you feel pain?"

"Y-Yes," you whispered dejectedly. "Good." Natasha grinned wildly as she lowered her lips to your neck, placing hot, wet kisses and leaving little love bites. You whimpered softly, throwing your head back as you arched to meet Natasha's exploring lips.

With a harsh giggle, Natasha grabbed your thighs and opened them wide. You gasped as the cold air rose and hit your heated core. A deep blush flooded your cheeks as Natasha kissed your inner thighs, eliciting a moan from her submissive.

"Look at you," Natasha murmured in agreement, her voice sensual and deep, vibrating deliciously. "You want this so fucking bad, that tight little cunt is just begging for relief."

A dark shiver ran through you at the crude language. It sent shivers down your spine, your nipples poking out like greedy little peaks in her leather bralette. Your body needed to be conquered, craved the taste of domination. And who better to give it to you than Natasha?

"Are you ready, moya lyubov?" Natasha purred, her eyes dark and intense as she reached under the bed and pulled out a strap-on. "Yes," you breathed, unable to look away from the dominant woman. Without warning, Natasha thrust forward, filling you with a wild, animalistic hunger. She gripped your thighs tightly and held them still as she thrust into you with wild abandon.

You screamed in pleasure, the pain of your welts fading in the face of your overwhelming pleasure. Natasha leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your passionate cries as she continued to plunder your depths.

Your tongues dueled and parried, each thrust and retreat bringing you closer to the edge. "Cum for me," Natasha whispered hoarsely, pulling back just enough to meet your wide eyes.

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your core clenching around Natasha as you neared your release. "I'm... I'm going to...!" you screamed, unable to hold back the tidal wave of pleasure. Your eyes rolled back and your body tensed as you felt the orgasm rip through you. This time Natasha watched your body shudder in release, delighting in how you screamed and squirmed in surrender to her dominance.

She paused for a moment, staring hungrily at your flushed, sweat-covered features as she occasionally groped you as you screamed and squirmed. "So beautiful, so perfect. You can feel me deep inside you, feel you falling apart under my touch, brought to the edge." Then she increased her speed, her movements becoming more reckless; her eyes blazing with the intensity of her desire.

"Fuck N-Natasha, wai-it!" With each thrust, your cries grew louder, the bedposts clacked rhythmically against the wall as natasha desperately searched for release. You tossed your head from side to side, your breasts bouncing and jumping, your hair making a mess of the expensive silk sheets.

"Stay still," Natasha demanded, her voice low and threatening, but there was something whispered in that command that sent a shiver of anticipation through your body, making it impossible for you to resist. Your breath came in ragged gasps and your eyes fluttering shut.

"Stay with me, little one.” Natasha demanded, her voice deep and commanding. You obeyed immediately, your wide eyes meeting Natasha's. "That's better," Natasha said, satisfaction shining in her eyes. "I'm the boss here and you will do what I say. Do you finally understand that now?”

You cried out and arched your back as your body endured the hard thrust, your clit rubbing against the thick base of the strap-on with each thrust. Natasha bit her lip, her eyes on you as she pushed in deeper, hitting the spot that made your whole body twitch with pleasure. "Oh, God!" you screamed as another wave of pleasure raced through your body. "Scream my name," Natasha hissed. "Say it!"

You could barely form words at this point, let alone remember what Natasha had ordered, but you felt Natasha's hands close around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make your speech sound garbled and unintelligible. "Nn... ta...asha!" You gagged, your body writhing under Natasha's grip.

"Fuck Y/n!!" she breathed as she thrust into you one last time, the dildo glistening with your shared wetness. Your body froze beneath her, your eyes rolling back as you reached the peak of your orgasm. Your loud, throaty screams filled the room as you came for the third time, your body a limp, sated mess, sprawled on the bed.

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🏷️ TAGLIST

@kipitou @thalia-is-not-ok @queen2234 @sgm616 @dorabledewdroop @natsxwife @natashaswife4125 @loneliestafterparty @jenniferjareauwife @maggieromanov @doveromanoff @agent99galanzo

[jaylaxies]

HARD THOUGHT !

PAIRING: gamer!hee x fem!reader

WC: 0.6k words

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni

Gamer!Heeseung takes his live streams very seriously, and it’s one of those days where he couldn’t even bother to get up from his gaming chair, playing with his friend the whole day, completing one of the quests thrown his way and the viewer count was higher than the usual, keeping him motivated and on his tippy toes. All of this meant that Heeseung hadn’t paid a sliver of attention to you, despite you trying your best to garner it still, yet he didn’t bat an eyelash at you when you gave him food, even though you were clad in his favourite dress, still standing far away so you don’t show yourself on the camera he had on.

You had enough of it, not having his attention for two days straight wasn’t tolerable by any means, which left you no other option than to forcefully capture his attention in a way that he couldn’t help but get up from his chair.

After taking a shower, you wrapped a towel around your torso, wearing nothing underneath as you approached Heeseung, his attention solely on the screen still as he talked to Jake, who was playing with him, through his headset.

A sudden gasp from Jake and your hand on Heeseung’s shoulder made him turn back to look at you, his eyes widening to see you devoid of clothes in simply a towel. He was quick to cover the webcam and mute the mic, not focusing on whatever Jake was saying anymore.

“What are you doing—” he asked, but you stopped him midway, getting rid of the towel and crawling up his lap, making him cuss out when your cunt was directly on top of his clothed cock.

“You won’t give me attention, so I decided to take it my own way,” you whispered with a teasing smirk, clenching around nothing when you observed his eyes getting darker, a scoff leaving his lips as he paid attention to finally switching off the PC.

“Yeah? So you decided to be a bad fucking girl, huh?” He mocks your desperation, his thumb playing with your bottom lip, making your lips part as you sucked on it, “can’t think without my cock being stuffed inside your pussy, isn’t that right, angel?” He chuckles when you nod.

A gasp leaves your mouth when he thrusts up, the rough material of his jeans brushing against your cunt, providing you with the friction you so desperately needed, “I’ll have to teach you a lesson for ruining my quest, baby,” he speaks it as a warning, as if he doesn’t enjoy how needy you get for him, how your body shivers with every single touch, every single word he speaks, as if you’re not a doll for him to use.

Soon, you find yourself on the bed, fully naked while Heeseung still had his T-shirt on when he was balls deep inside your pussy, loving the way you squeezed his length, and the way you lost your sense of sanity, not being able to form sentences when he fucked you from behind, pushing your head down the pillow, spanking your ass which was up and groaning when you fell apart around his cock, courtesy of his brutal backshots, which felt like the best punishment to you, the room a mixture of your lewd activities and a slight mist.

That’s when you knew you had to bother him more often, if it means he’d fuck you this way, making sure your pussy would be full of his cum, your tits marked and your lips swollen with how he let his carnal desires take over.

After all, acting out is the way to get fucked.

© jaylaxies | tumblr

[reiderwriter]

◇ Now That I Found You, Stay ◇

Chapter 11 of That's What You Get

Summary: A long, overdue conversation is finally had.

Warnings: smut, minors dni 18+, fingering, vaginal penetration, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, pet names, creampie, breeding kink, marking etc. Spoilers for Season 7 of Criminal Minds, episodes "Hit" and "Run."

A/N: And next week is the end of our journey! If anyone is interested, I can answer any questions you have about this series and its ending/ what I'm planning for after this, etc. in my inbox this weekend! I'm really thankful for everyone's support so far! 11 down, 1 to go!

As always, you can find my masterlist here, and my requests are currently open!! <3

You weren't expecting him to be so very prompt, but after hearing the panic in his voice on the phone call, you really shouldn't have expected any less. 

Taking in his appearance, you were almost sorry that you'd caused such an upset. His eyes were darker than usual, a look of no sleep crossing his features, but he still stood hypervigilant in the doorway. Almost as if he were scanning you for injuries or harm, he drank you in. 

"You're wearing it?" The words fell from his mouth before either of you could say hello. The second his eyes locked onto the ring on your hand, it was suddenly the only thing he could think of. 

You could see him biting back further questions as he waited for you to invite him in. 

"I'm wearing it. That's okay, isn't it?" You asked, glancing up into his panicked face as he tried to make sense of the situation. 

"Yeah, it's… it's okay, yeah. Why… why are you wearing it?" He asked hesitantly, blinking a lot as he waited for your answer. You pulled the door further open and waved him in with your arm. He stepped into the immediate space but didn't move in further, as if he were scared to go in too far for fear he'd be led straight back out again. 

"Listen, Y/N, I know I should've told you, and I'm so sorry, and-"

"I know." 

"No, you don't. You didn't remember anything when we woke up, and I was so scared that I'd forced you into it, that you were going to regret everything, and-"

"Spencer," you grabbed his attention, flattening your hand on his chest as you forced him to focus on your words. "I know." His rambling ceased as he tried to sus out your meaning, obviously coming up blank of the furrow in his brow was anything to go by. 

"Penelope was here. Thank you for that, by the way. Penelope was here, and she showed me this video she took." Your hand lazily stroked over his chest, settling into place over his heart, where you could feel the organ desperately thumping, trying to make its way to you. 

"I heard that being presented with photographic evidence of an event can spark memories of it. I guess that worked for me." You sighed and took a step towards him. 

"I know how much you love me because you told me." 

Since watching Spencer's Chapel confession, glimpses of the night had been falling into place, puzzling out the entire story. 

You remembered being in the casino with him. He'd taught you some special tricks for the card games, and you'd laughed in delight as you'd raked in the cash. You hadn't done as well as him, but you knew you never would. 

You remembered how you'd left hand in hand, him pulling you out of the casino, away from an angry security guard, who obviously had questions about his sudden luck. He'd pulled you into am alleyway, and you'd stood there, laughing, chests heaving as you grew closer, finally wrapping around each other in joy, your lips meeting as if it were something they always were meant to do. 

He had flushed beautifully as he'd pulled away, so concerned that he was taking advantage of you. He whispered his love to you into the small space between your skin, under the influence of alcohol or cupid or something that made him brave for that second.

You remembered the way he'd tried to take the words back, and you remembered just as vividly how you'd refused to let him, smile growing to the point where your cheeks had felt tired. 

He'd kept talking, though, and you remembered every word he said to you. 

"You know I have this recurring dream," he had started. "I used to have bad nightmares, but now it's a dream. I wake up in bed, and you're there. We eat together, we get ready together. We go to work together. We are together. Is it weird I have dreams about being married to you?" His eyes had flashed with panic for a second before you'd pulled him down for a kiss. 

"Okay." Your voice barely a whisper, your nose pressed against his.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll marry you. It seems like a lovely dream." And you had, and it was. 

You focused on him in the present again, looking up into his eyes as you connected your other hand with his. 

"Spencer, it was a lovely dream." His eyes soften as he breathes a sigh of relief. 

You pull back for a second, leading him out of the doorway, before turning on him. Plucking the ring from your finger, you drop it into his palm, closing his hand around it. 

"Oh. I understand, I… I get it, if you don't want this-" 

"Spencer, what I want is a question." You sink to the floor, pulling him down with you until both of you are on your knees. 

"Now that we're both sober, I want the question. I distinctly remember you not exactly asking last time." It took him a few seconds to understand, and you squirmed as you waited for him to finally give you what you needed.

"Oh." You laughed at his dumb-struck expression, still acting obviously for him to ask you to marry him. 

"Oh, right, okay. I'm sorry, I thought I'd be better at this." He fumbled the ring in his hand for a second before offering it out to you, clutched awkwardly in both of his hands. 

"Y/N, will you marry me?" The anticipation bubbling up in you spilt over as you threw your arms around him, tackling him to the floor as you shouted yes as many times as your breathless lungs would allow you. 

The ring is forgotten underneath the two of you somewhere as his lips attach themselves to yours, stealing even more of your oxygen while giving you life. His hands pulled you in by your waist until you were a mess of limbs on the floor, wrapped around one another. 

He pushed your hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear when you finally broke apart, drinking in as much air as you could. 

"Great, because I don't think I could go back to the nightmares." 

"And I don't think the title divorcée suits me very well, Spencer. This is mutually beneficial." He laughs as his lips draw yours in again, using his body weight to flip your positions, quickly but carefully lowering you to the ground, kissing every inch of your face as you curiously roll your hips up into his. 

When you try to come up for air again  he doesn't let you, pushing your shoulders down as he sucks love bites into your collarbone. 

"Spencer, how…How should we tell everyone? It's going to be a shock, right?" You tried to keep your voice steady  but even you couldn't control the reactions you were having to this man's touch.

"I have some ideas," You feel him smile into your skin as his head slopes lower and lower. The top of your dress was low enough that his head could graze the tops of your breasts without having to disturb much, and you weren't sure if you wanted an answer to your question or his undivided attention more. 

"Care to enlighten me?" You asked as he planted a final kiss to your chest before pulling up and off you slightly. 

Picking up your hand, he delicately brought the inside of your wrist to his mouth, kissing it tenderly. 

"You could walk into work with this on your hand," he said, pushing the ring back onto your finger. The cool metal and his warm touch sent shivers down your spine as you dedicatedly watched him make his way across your body. 

Back at your neck, he spoke again, softly. "I could mark you up, nice and good, until everyone knows what an obedient little wife you are." His tongue flicks over a particularly sensitive spot, and you moan as you squeal into the touch. He spends some time there, making companions for his earlier love bites. 

Letting his hands trace lower, he finally ghosts a finger across your clothed pussy. With just a few mere touches, you're putty in his hand, whimpering his name helplessly, your arms wrapped about his neck. 

"We could do it that way, too. Those motel room walls are always pretty thin. I'm sure one scream of my name and the entire team would know." Your hips buck up violently into his own  and you're surprised at your sudden lack of self-control. 

You moaned for him, waiting for him to give up his teasing and give you what you really wanted. 

His hands remained ghostly, though, and you almost cursed in frustration. Pulling your dress up, he was swift and agile, hands falling to your bare hips once he'd made sure you were displayed to him. You moaned as you tried to buck your hips up into his hands again, but he caught you before you could. 

Instead of meeting you where you wanted, be pushed your dress even higher, head moving lower to begin pressing kisses over your stomach and lower. 

"Or I could knock you up  and we can for you to introduce the baby with my last name. Really let everyone know just what a horn little slut you are for me." you contemplate grabbing a fistful of his fair, but his lips are back on yours in a flash, and you gasp as you feel him finally push your panties to the side and let his fingers dive inside of you. 

"Or I could give you a real wedding. Claim you right there in front of everyone. 

"I could take thee, to be my wedded wife," his hands slipped deeper into you still as you moaned underneath him. 

"To have and to hold," his other hand dropped to rub your clit as he kept his eyes locked with your own, mouth wide with arousal, trying desperately to prologue this pleasure and not come undone so instantly on his hands. 

"From this day forward, for better or worse," your mind goes blank, filling with his voice and only his voice. 

"For richer, for poorer," he pulls his fingers away for a second, and you moan in protest. 

"In sickness and in health," he sits you up in his lap, ridding you of your remaining clothing as he drinks in the view of your entire body. 

"To love and to cherish," he kisses you again, so soft and passionate that you are almost surprised when his dick slips into you from under you. 

"Till death do us part." He rises to his knees, holding you up in his arms as he begins thrusting into you, hard and fast. 

With his attention so wholly on you and your pleasure, you come undone in a matter of moments, Spencer still finding his rhythm as you stutter around him. 

"Good girl, you're doing so good for me, milking my cock like that." He doesn't slow down as you give yourself over to him, just stroking your hair as you readjust to all the touches you're receiving. You claw your hands into his back as you start getting over stimulated, trying desperately to retain hold of your sanity. 

He's pounding into you too desperately to sustain your position, quickly pressing your back into the floor once again, spreading you once more, and continuing his ministrations. 

Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, desperately holding on for fear that letting go would mean losing him again. You feel your nails break the skin of his back as you scratch, claw, grip.

"How about we do all of that?" He grunts in your ear. "I'll give you whatever wedding you want  I'll give you the world. If you let me breed you like a nice little whore." You moan his name in response, your entire body growing rigid again as his words build another climax inside your stomach. 

"Let me mark you and show off who you belong to." You remember the feeling of his cum shooting into you, and suddenly you find it is everything you've ever wanted.

"Fuck, Spencer I'll do anything, please just don't stop." 

His mouth finds yours again as his hand finds its way to your clit again, and suddenly your hips are jerking up and down his cock as you cum. 

He isn't far behind you, not bothering to pause his movements at all as he spills his seed inside of you, pushing it in and letting it leak out of you, your collective fluids pooling under your ass as he gently calms his movements.

Holding himself like that on top of you, your breaths sync, and even as you're both gasping for air, looking into each others eyes is enough to spark more laughter. You're all tenderness and love, and and filled with him. 

He doesn't bother to pull out, simply making sure your legs are tight around his waist and your arms are tight around his neck as he hauls himself to his feet, warming his cock inside you as he hauls you to the bedroom. 

Finally pulling away, he lays you gently on the bed, taking notice of where the carpet has bitten into your back. He slips his cock out of you and retreats to the bathroom, no doubt seeking out cleaning materials. 

When he rejoins you on the bed, he rubs your cunt lazily until you're cleaned up, but you grab his hand and urge him to keep going, before pulling him back over you. 

The remainder of the night is restless as you make vows back and forth with every clash of your bodies, mouths hot with the need to prove your love for one another. 

You finally get to wake up in his arms the next morning. He hasn't left, and you certainly didn't kick him out. You watch him peacefully for as long as you can before he stirs, and the two of you have to ready yourself for a day's work.

"We should tell everyone as soon as possible, right?" You say as you both climb out of the shower. Sharing it saves time, he'd said, but it hadn't been quite as efficient as he'd made it out to be. 

Towelling off his hair, he replied. "Honestly, most of them already know." 

"Wait… the witnesses!" You gasp as you remember what it is that you still didn't quite remember. "I know Penelope is one of them. Who was the other?" You demanded, whirling around on him as you brushed your teeth. 

If you take everyone you'd talked to so far at face value, that left only three options. 

"We're going to work soon, right? Maybe you could figure it out. Profile your second witness, perhaps." You scowled at him and threw a towel half heartedly, resisting the urge to stomp childishly when his phone begins to ring. 

"Hotch," he answers, growing serious once more. "Yeah, we're awake, I…. Where? Okay, be there soon." He hangs up quickly and turns back to you. 

"Will's partner was just killed as they responded to a call about a bank robbery. They want us to consult apparently, it's still in prog-" His hurried words are cut off by the even more hurried shrill of your phone. 

"Hotch, yeah, I know, I'm… I'm with Spencer." 

Hotch's voice is silent on the other end of the line for a second before his familiar stern tone sounds into your ear. 

"We'll talk about that after we get everything settled for now, just get yourselves into the office." 

You, too, hang up, and, with your husband, you make your way to the crime scene. 

--X--

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[writefightandflightclub]

Something to prove: Frankie Morales x fem!reader blurb

Read the warnings.

Summary: you’re wrong. And Frankie wants to prove it.

Genre: steam / implied smut. Teasing / sexual tension. Brat /brat tamer or Dom / sub vibes.

A/n: okay, look. Frankie is cool, calm and collected. Expect when he’s not. And I just love finding the things that flip that switch on his composure and create, specifically, a Frankie of the u n h i n g e d and f e r a l variety. (That was my initial concept and then… this defo grew somewhat darker than I’d intended, so please do read the warnings! I dunno what happened but I guess I went a bit feral too don’t look at me 🙈)

Spoilery Warnings: there are definite dub-con elements here. Frankie is not checking-in thoroughly for consent and there’s one point where his thought-process /actions outright disregards consent (it’s Frankie’s POV). In my head, reader is enthusiastically on-board for everything which happens during the fic and for what is implied off-screen, but that’s definitely not made explicit in the text or even the internal monologue as it usually would be, and Frankie doesn’t know that for sure all the time. Consider yourself warned. As well, some dumbification here, reader called “stupid girl” etc. So… it’s a slightly darker!Frankie than I would usually write or characterise rather than aiming for canon so much! Also, implied threesome (or similar) off-screen, so a smidge of Santiago x reader which I opted not to tag as it isn’t the main focus. Some dub-con from Santi too. Daddy kink warning (once). (Light) Choking. Spitting (once). Dom / Sun, Brat / brat tamer vibes. Fingering. Definite theme in the language of “it’s for your own good / I know what’s best for you” which could be triggering, and could count as coercion. Explicit.

MINORS DNI. 18+ ONLY

Gif by @santigarcia

No, the voice in Frankie’s head blares, the word defeaning - although no sound passes his lips. No. No. No!

You’re wrong.

Even as Santiago smiles smugly. Says “you got that right, sweetie.”

No.

Frankie’s jaw writhes, his hand clawing into his own thigh even as a gentle titter spreads throughout the room, passed amiably from mirth-crinkled eye to slanted mouth.

He’s not angry at you. Not exactly.

When Benny had asked, as the juvenile truth or dare game progressed, who you thought would be best in the sack, you’d had to pick someone.

It’s just that you’re wrong.

It’s him.

In his head it’s him. In his head, no-one else can give it to you the way he’s imagined making you come undone. No-one else could have you unfurling the way he’s plotted so meticulously; late at night, as he’s bucked his straining length into his own fist, wishing it was the warm, enclosing wetness of you.

You’re wrong.

He feels his pulse drum in his throat. Feels his face pinch into something angular and hard.

He rips an abrupt swig of beer from the mouth of his bottle. Abrupt like the way he wants to tear a kiss from your mouth. Sudden and harsh, showing you your mistake.

He’s not angry at you. He’s not.

He’s angry at himself; for not showing you; that you’re wrong.

He stands. “Excuse me,” he mutters gruffly, pacing to the kitchen. Opening the fridge to give some passing pretence to his exit. His broad shoulders curl in towards the cold, seeking to calm his suddenly heat-pricked skin. His shirt pulls taut over the writhing muscles in his back.

You find him like this a moment later when you enter, your sweet voice preceding the sight of you. And fuck. The contrast of your softness to the way he’s growing rigid in his jeans has his eyes fluttering closed, lashes fanning to his cheek. Has the circle of his plush lips dropping open as a pulse of need zips along his aching shaft.

No. No. No.

You’re so wrong.

And, for some reason, the thought of correcting your mistake, by setting the record straight himself? It has him coming undone.

“The boys are so easy to please, huh?” you breeze, apparently completely unaware of his predicament. Of the blood rushing in his ears so hard he can barely even hear your voice. Unless… did he imagine that teasing, provocative edge in your tone?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Frankie is fixed in place now. Rigid and imposing. Breaths mildly ragged; frayed at the edges. He hears you hop your ass up onto the counter with a breathy little - and seemingly deliberate - mmhmph. Knows that’s where you’re at, because that’s where you usually sit. That’s your spot when Santiago is cooking, all of the squad gathered around the kitchen island. That’s when Frankie usually leans his long frame against the wall right by you. Drinks in the way your thighs swell - full and soft- as they press into the counter. Imagines slipping his broad hands on to your knees. Sliding the flat of his palms up to part your warm, supple thighs. Slipping his fingers beneath the hem of your tantalising dress until they can spear your heat.

“Santiago’s” -Frankie juts his chin and curls his lip as you say his name- “so fucking needy.”

The word needy falling from your lips does something to him. Sends a throb of heat and dull ache to his length.

You have no idea how needy he is.

How needy he has been for you.

So… No.

Not Santiago’s name in your mouth instead of his. Not fantasies of Santiago fucking you bleeding into your dreams, keeping you up at night, making you slick between your legs.

You’re wrong.

In his head you’re wrong. In his head he’s had you coming apart on his cock a thousand different times. A thousand different ways. He never leaves you anything less than sated, breathless, boneless. He’s good for you. He’s the best. He’s what you need.

You’re wrong.

A low grunt rises in his throat.

Then, finally, with effort, Frankie delicately snaps the fridge closed. Turns towards you, his usually soft gaze intense and hard. Tongue curling around his plush upper lip. It makes the tentative smile you offer drop from your face.

Frankie watches your eyes skim down his taut, long body. Imagines that he sees your pupils blowing-out. A swallow sinking in your neck as he approach you like this. Harsh. Dominant. Maybe how he should have been with you all along. Maybe you would’ve liked that better.

At least, if he had, that way you’d already know.

His pulse beats a drum in his chest. Fuck. Those thighs of yours make his arousal swell painfully in his jeans.

“You believe it?” he grits, abrupt and forceful. Something dark in him activating. Something he isn’t proud of. Something that feels primal. Hungry, after so long caged away.

Your eyes widen like prey. “Believe what?”

Frankie looks at your mouth. You don’t even know. Don’t even know what’s good for you, do you? That he’s good for you. He’s going to show you. “Don’t play dumb. You know ‘what’.”

He crosses to you. Slots his hips between your thighs. Stands over you, muscles taut and rigid. Primed; yet contained. Reaches his thumb and forefinger out to grip and lift the point of your chin; deceptively soft.

Your mouth falls open. There is a sharp intake of breath, as though his touch is electricity on your skin. You writhe yourself into the counter. Arch your chest towards him, even as your eyes widen with slight apprehension. He’s never spoken to you like that before. Has only ever been soft with you. And look where that’s gotten him. Not buried balls-deep into your cunt, that’s for sure. “F-Frankie… I…”

No. No excuses.

“He was the obvious answer.”

No.

“I had to say someone.”

No.

“I couldn’t say… I c-couldn’t say you, could I?”

“Why not?” He shoves the pad of his thumb past your lips and into your mouth before you can even answer, sliding it over your tongue. Doesn’t even care in that moment if you want it. He wants it. Needs it. But he loves how instantly you pucker your lips to suck. Loves that the hot, wet glide of your tongue obediently greets him.

An awed smile drags over his mouth as you hum around him, already becoming putty. He imagines the wet spot he could make you leave on the counter, your slit all shined for him.

“Stupid girl,” he purrs, tone dripping with condescension, his voice honey over gravel. You moan as he withdraws from your mouth. Shifts his hands to clamp down on your thighs, snaking up. “I could give it to you so much better.”

You bat your eyes at him. Toying with him, like you always do - he sees it now. “H-How am I supposed to know that? I’ve…” you bite down on your pillowy lower lip. Looks like a nice place to rest his cock while he shoves into your warm throat, he thinks. “I’ve never fucked either of you.”

Still. You should already know. You should know it’s him.

You should know you’re wrong.

Frankie’s nostrils flare. He drags the pad of his thumb along the seam of his lips. Contains the anger pulsing in him. Has half a mind to unzip his pants right here. To shove you down on the floor and to fill up that pretty mouth of yours right here. Wants to.

“But you want it, don’t you, kitten?” He’s almost certain now. Certain that he hasn’t been imagining it, all these months. The teasing. The glances. The comments. These silly little outfits you wear around him. You’ve been trying to drive him to distraction, haven’t you? Playing him and Santiago off of one another. Riling them both up. Waiting for one of them - or maybe even both of them - to snap.

He drags you to him then, abrupt, your hands flying out to steady yourself against the counter. Your heat coming to rest over the clothed, straining mass of him as he bucks his hips up, grinding up against you. You yelp and it’s a pretty, pathetic little sound. “Don’t you?” he bites off, impatient for an answer now.

You want that. You want him to take it, don’t you?

All you can respond with is a loose, breathy affirmative as Frankie clamps his hand around your jaw and throat. He feels your heartbeat fluttering in your neck. It feels - to him - like want thrumming beneath your skin. Raw and red.

He dips his mouth towards the shell of your ear next, the scent of your perfume sending him into even more of a frenzy. “Did anyone ever tell you you should be careful what you wish for?”

He grips you harder, and your eyes flash with momentary apprehension as his grip closes over your throat. In the next moment however, your gaze is muddied by a glassy, blooming contentedness. A rising hunger. He jostles your head and you move with it, already pliant for him. It’s almost as though this is what you’ve been waiting for. Baiting him to snap. Baiting him to show you what he’s capable of.

Stupid girl.

How have you managed without him all this time? You need him. Need him just like he needs you. Need him to show you.

“Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“Open it.”

You oblige, showing him your pretty pink tongue, and a groan unspools from his chest at how pretty you look like this. Then, without warning, Frankie spits into your mouth.

You jump slightly from the suddenness of it, though once you realise what’s happened, you appear to relish it. Swallow it down and look at him with an altogether wolfish grin.

“Mmm. Thank you, Daddy.”

Such a fucking tease. His cock is so hard in his pants now, his arousal throbbing against the thick, constricting seam. In need of release. In need of that little wet cunt of yours, like he’s imagined a thousand times.

Well, thanks to your little games, he’s done imagining.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

Frankie grabs your hand. Tugs you down from the counter and back through the house.

“We’re leaving,” he announces to the remaining squad, paying their confused and concerned enquiries little mind. Then, he directs his next words only to Santiago. “You are too.”

The other man blinks in confusion. “Whu-“

When he responds, Frankie’s tone and his demeanour leave zero room for argument - he makes sure of it, the sounds carved sharp on the knife edge of his clenched teeth. “-Now.”

Santiago obliges rightaway. “Uh huh.”

“Hey. Big fella. What are we doing?” he asks as Frankie leads you hurriedly towards his truck, stalking down the gravel drive.

“Her.”

Frankie glances at Santiago in time to catch his thick eyebrows raise in surprise; but to his credit he only skips one pace before falling right back in step with him. “Oh. We are, huh?” Santiago looks to you. He looks hungry too. “Did you know about this, Princess?”

Frankie answers for you. “She knows exactly what she’s doing. And now, thanks to her, I’ve got something to prove.”

“Oh oh, Princesa,” Santiago purrs, a smug smirk claiming his mouth.

“Oh oh?” you ask with trepidation, as Frankie bundles you into the passenger seat of the car, clipping your seatbelt for you like you can’t do it for yourself. His eyes are consumed with fire as they meet yours, his tongue darting out along his lips. God, he could have you right here. Certainly doesn’t relish the waiting.

“Yeah,” Santiago breezes, slotting into the back. Frankie exchanges a dark, conspiratorial glance with Santiago in the wing mirror, before watching his buddy lean around the shoulder of your seat. “Honey. You’ve got no idea what you’re in for, do you?”

You’re wrong.

You’re so wrong. And Frankie’s gonna show you. Over and over.

“Get her ready, would you?” Frankie pipes up, not even dragging his eyes away from the road for a second. Even so, he hears you gasp and then moan in pleasure as Santiago’s nimble fingers peel the hem of your dress away from your thighs.

“It’s for your own good, Princess. You’re gonna need it,” Santiago explains as his fingers travel, finding the wet spot between your legs. “Frankie’s big.”

“Hmm. Sure. I’ve heard that before,” you punch out, in between abortive moans of pleasure as Santiago’s fingers work their way inside you.

“Oh, it’s not a brag, honey,” Santiago snickers. Frankie joins him in laughter, like the two of them share a joke that you’re just not in on. He slides his mouth up your throat. “Trust me. It’s a kindness.”

Frankie smiles. Clamps his hands down tighter on the wheel. Can’t wait to get you home.

You’re wrong.

You’re so wrong. And he’s going to show you.

You shouldn’t push someone with a dark side if you can’t handle the consequences, he thinks.

He risks a glance as you throw your head back, mouth dropping open in a silent moan of pleasure.

You’re wrong; but he’s going to have a lot of fun proving it.

[rosemaze-reveries]

Hi there!! Can I req a Matthias x reader where the reader is very nice yet shy, and Matthias fell for their kindness but is afraid to confess cause he might lose them(who's the first and only person to show him genuine care)?

(But he's also bad at hiding his feelings)

Or maybe a scenario where he has a difficult time sleeping and finds himself impulsively knocking on your door— regretful of his actions but he can't back out now that you're standing in front of the open door, curious from the unexpected visit.

He's a new char so I hardly find any fics about him and I'm desperate💔 you can change the scenario!! I'm really just desperate uehdhsishd(⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

hi anon i LOVED these ideas! i tried to combine both of them into one, i hope it satisfies what you wanted!! ♡

falling slowly 🪡

Matthias isn’t one to act on impulse.

He’ll let his thoughts fester aimlessly inside him, hoping the darker among them someday fizzle out. He’ll watch precious chances fly past him, fearing the consequences of a risk taken too rashly. A missed opportunity is better than another tragedy. A guarded mind is better than a broken heart. But some restless nights drive him to desperation, and tonight that leads him to you.

He stands outside your bedroom door, arms stiff against his sides. He’s passed by this room countless times before, as the two of you occasionally walk each other back to your rooms. But never has he come here on his own, never without explicit permission.

He gingerly raises his hand, letting it hover above your doorframe. All of a sudden, he loses his words. What would he say? I can’t sleep, I need you to check for monsters under my bed? I need you to stay with me until I fall asleep? I need you to tuck me in? What a baby. He can already picture the look you’d send him: a smile that’s trying too hard to be polite, a shabby effort at concealing the judgment within. You wouldn’t turn him down directly, even though he knows you’d want to. Kindhearted people love to dance in circles before saying anything that might offend. He’s all too familiar with this game. Normally, your kindness is something he loves about you, but all he can do now is curse it under his breath. If only you were crueler to him, like most people are, then he wouldn’t have let his hopes inflate his head. He would’ve known never to even consider stopping by your room. He would’ve known to avoid this situation altogether.

His fingers close into a fist, and it’s then he realizes he’s quivering slightly. Louis wouldn’t have a problem in this scenario. That thought piques Matthias most. His “factory defect” has locked him in place yet again, and all he can do is swallow down the reminder of his incompetence. It’s just a door, for God’s sake.

He flexes his fingers one last time, glancing around as if worried someone might catch him. Then he strikes his fist. It’s a clumsy motion, rattling your door on its hinges, and his heart leaps to his throat. A courteous knock would have three raps or so, not the jarring thud! he made — nobody in their right mind would imagine that’s a welcome visitor, right? Especially not at this snake’s pit of a manor. He prays desperately for you to ignore that ever happened. In your position, he’d pretend to be asleep, maybe double-check that the door is properly locked. Surely you’d do the same.

Surely...?

“It’s open!” greets your voice from inside, entirely unconcerned.

Matthias holds his breath. Why are you leaving your door unlocked at this hour? But he tucks that thought away while he stares down at the doorknob. This is it — he’s trapped. If he turns around now, you’ll be left with unresolved fears of someone lurking around your room at night. Nothing could entice him to do that to you. And if you ever found out it was him? It’d be too late for apologies, and definitely not forgiveness. Right, so he has to answer.

Slowly, he cracks it open a fraction, afraid of peering anywhere but the ground.

“You can come in,” you urge. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t want to. Footsteps shuffle around inside, then the door fully swings open. “Oh, hi Matthias! What’s up?”

He only meets your face briefly, at your bright and curious eyes, before his gaze flicks back downward.

“Uh… sorry to bother you, I just…” He awkwardly grasps at his elbows, struggling to string together his intentions. “…I need you.”

. . . . .

There it is. His secret is out. He didn’t mean to let it slip, but that single phrase had been bouncing endlessly around his mind, as if they were the only words he knew. It’s the one thing he can confidently admit: he needs you. He doesn’t expect you to reciprocate. In fact, he’s certain you don’t. Nobody in their right mind would. That’s why he never ventured to say these words before. So when you respond to him with patient silence, as if waiting for him to continue, the entirety of his body freezes over. Maybe only a few seconds pass in reality, but that’s more than enough time for Matthias to fill the gaps. It’s a no — he knows it’s a no.

Your head tips slightly. “Sure, what do you need?”

The whirlwind in his mind slows to a halt. He remembers how he used to cough up excuses on the spot when trying to avoid you—sometimes you’d invite him for a meal or game of cards together, and he had convinced himself those were pity invites so he tended to reject them upfront. It stings less to avoid someone altogether than to endure feeling ‘tolerated’ instead of ‘wanted.’ But now he’s wracking his brain for an excuse to stay.

“I—I just wanted to see you.” It’s not a lie, but for some reason it feels like one.

“Me?” A look of surprise flashes on your face, warmth blooming across your chest. That might be the most forward thing you’ve ever heard from him. Stepping closer, you reach for his forearm, peering up into his face to better examine his strained features. Your free hand reaches up to brush aside the limp strands of hair shrouding his face. “Did something happen? It’s almost midnight—I mean, I don’t mind, it’s just so unexpected…”

The strength falls from Matthias’ shoulders. Out of relief, maybe. Or maybe it’s to brace himself for one last leap of faith.

“Can I stay with you…?” His voice is barely audible. You search his lone eye, staring back at you in its perfect hollowness. At some point, that blank stare has become a comforting sight for you. Your hand trails from his arm to spread across his shoulder. He remains motionless.

“Okay,” you say, softly. “Always.”

As you move to wrap both arms around his neck, you notice his body tense, and his brows furrow, subtly, in a clear attempt not to let you notice. The strain on his face catches you off-guard.

“Wh-What? What’s wrong?” Immediately, you pull back to search his expression.

“N-No, nothing—keep going.”

This time, it’s Matthias who draws you close. His arms weave their way around your waist, pulling you tightly against him. His face burrows into your shoulder, and it’s then you understand the weight of his visit, of his need for you. All you can do is lift a tender hand to ruffle his hair, feeling his pounding heart ease in your arms.

[childrenofcain-if]

Jumping up and down, biting down on my pillow while I wrestle my neighbor that came to complain about the noise that I'm making while running on my walls. EHEM I meant patiently waiting for the release date :batting eyelashes innocently:. Though I'm curious, how would the ROs react to an MC that's overly flirtratious but in a wet girl/boy/person loser kind of way + uses too many pick up lines/finger guns as a genuine way to flirt when nervous. Loving the premise for your if till now, it's been awhile I've loved all the ROs!!!

aw bonnie, i do hope your neighbour isn’t trying to write you a noise complaint now 💀 i need you to stay out of prison for the release date 🙏🏻

C LACROIX

you stood in front of them, wearing that ridiculous grin, eyes bright with a kind of nervous mischief that C had come to recognize too well. it was the prelude to something. and sure enough, it came—finger guns, of all things, pointed directly at them.

“are you french? ‘cause eiffel for you,” you said, your voice wavering slightly, betraying the nervous energy they were trying so hard to mask with charm. you knew damn well C was indeed french, and then the worst part—those finger guns again, paired with a wink that was so exaggerated it made their chest tighten in something like exasperated fondness.

C stared, a muscle in their jaw ticking. it should’ve been infuriating. was infuriating. the way you seemed to lose all sense of dignity the moment you felt nervous, drowning in a sea of bad pick-up lines and gestures better suited for a caricature than a real person. but god, the way your lips curved up at the end of each line, the way you stumbled through your awkward attempts, as if trying to flirt was some kind of dangerous game— it was impossible to look away.

“really?” C raised an eyebrow, trying and failing to hide the faint amusement threading through their voice. “that’s what you’re going with?”

you blinked, clearly flustered, but doubled down. “you know… if you were a vegetable, you’d be a cute-cumber.”

C ran a hand down their face, trying to stifle the laugh threatening to break free. “you’re terrible at this.”

“yeah, well,” MC shrugged, attempting to play it cool but visibly unraveling under C’s gaze, “i’m not trying to impress you, or anything.”

“really?” C stepped closer, and the temperature of the room seemed to shift. their pale green eyes flickered, sharp and predatory, and your breath hitched, the sudden proximity taking away any semblance of ease. “because you’re trying very hard not to look like you’re about to pass out.”

your mouth opened, then shut again, your bravado failing you for a split second. your hand wavered in the air as if debating whether to throw out another absurd gesture, but you were frozen in place under C’s intense stare.

C tilted their head, voice dropping into something darker, more amused. “do you actually think those awful lines are working?”

you swallowed hard. “well, you haven’t walked away yet.”

there it was—the loser charm, the half-baked attempt at deflection, the way you always seemed to bumble your way through these moments, as if too much self-awareness would be your undoing. and somehow, it was disarming. endearing, even. like a puzzle C couldn’t quite solve but found themself fascinated by all the same.

C stared at you for a moment, then blinked, a slow, deliberate thing. their lips quirked up, barely—a ghost of a smile. “you’re... utterly pathetic.”

your lips twitched, trying for a smile but faltering. “and yet… you’re still here.”

C’s gaze softened in a way they couldn’t control, something worryingly close to affection flickering behind their eyes. “i don’t know whether to kiss you or strangle you.”

“hopefully the first one?” your voice cracked just slightly, your attempt at humor failing as C’s hand came up to gently brush a thumb across your cheek.

“god, you’re hopeless,” C murmured, their voice barely a breath between you now.

your eyes fluttered shut, as if waiting for C to close the distance, to turn this fumbling, awkward mess into something real. but C stayed where they were, hovering just inches away, savoring the tension.

“i’m trying, you know,” you whispered, their voice softer now, less ridiculous, more honest. “i just—when i’m around you, i don’t know what to do. it’s like… my brain stops working.”

C smiled—a rare, genuine thing that made the dimples on their cheeks prominent. it had your heart skipping a beat. “maybe stop using finger guns next time.”

you let out a shuddering laugh. “yeah, i’ll… work on that.”

C tilted their head slightly, eyes tracing the curve of your lips. “you’re lucky i like you.”

you swallowed hard. “you do?”

C finally, finally closed the distance, pressing their lips to yours in a way that was both gentle and consuming, their hand curling around the back of your neck to pull you closer. when they pulled back, just barely, their voice was a low murmur against your mouth.

“yeah,” C whispered. “i do.”

V NÆSHOLM

V stood there, their gaze flicking nervously between the floor and your face, the faintest blush painting their cheeks. they were always like this—soft-spoken, devout, painfully kind in ways that made you feel like a storm in comparison. and today was no exception. they watched with wide, uncertain eyes as you nervously lifted your hands, finger guns aimed directly at them.

“are you religious?” you asked, your voice pitched higher than usual, betraying the nerves. “because you’re the answer to all my prayers.”

it was ridiculous, really. childish and awkward, with a smile so forced that it threatened to shatter into laughter at any moment. you knew it. you could feel how stupid it all sounded. but when you got nervous, this was the only way you knew how to act—filling the air with jokes, pick-up lines that clung too hard to the air between you and V, desperate for something solid to land on.

V blinked, their brow furrowing slightly like they weren’t sure how to respond. their fingers went instinctively to the small cross around their neck, clutching it like a lifeline, as if the gesture would tell them if you were losing your marbles. “um... thank you?”

your grin wavered, and you swallowed hard. another one, then. you had to try another one.

“are you a magician, then? because when i look at you, everything else just disappears.” you accompany that with a ‘poof’ motion to add more flair.

V’s breath caught in their throat, an embarrassed flush creeping up their neck, the kind of warmth that had no business being there. they blinked, staring at you like they were trying to make sense of a particularly difficult verse, something too foreign to easily translate. it wasn’t that they were hating it—no, it was something else entirely. something in them unfurled, but they couldn’t quite catch it, couldn’t grasp why.

you were fidgeting now, sensing the silence had stretched too long. “uh… not good? i’ve got more.”

V’s mouth twitched, something between a laugh and a sigh escaping them, though they quickly pressed their lips together. they didn’t want to be rude, didn’t want to laugh at you but how did they even respond to that?

“i—” they hesitated, voice quiet and soft as always. “i’m not sure that’s…”

you shot them another look, and there it was again: the finger guns. “is your name google? because you’ve got everything i’ve been searching for.”

yep, that’ll do it. V felt the warmth turn into something dangerously close to laughter, but they caught themself, biting down on the inside of their cheek. they didn’t want to encourage it, didn’t want to make you feel worse, but you were so earnest, so terribly bad at this, and yet so... you.

“i—” V tried again, cheeks flushed deeper now, eyes darting away because they couldn’t look directly at you without the nervousness creeping up their spine. “i think you’re—” they paused, unsure of the right words. kind? ridiculous? wonderful? none of it seemed right, and all of it seemed too much.

you were looking at them, a little too intently now, waiting for some kind of sign, some approval or rejection. you were always looking for something, even in your silliness, and V could feel that weight.

“does it ever work?” V’s voice was smaller now, their eyes dropping to the ground. “you know, those… lines?”

your face lit up with a kind of hope that tugged at V’s chest. “oh, absolutely not. not even once.”

you said it so sincerely, so shamelessly, that V couldn’t help but laugh then, a quiet, breathy sound that made them immediately cover their mouth, as if they’d broken some unwritten rule.

they shook their head, a smile creeping through their repressed amusement. “i don’t know what to do with you.”

you shrugged, clearly a little embarrassed now but still holding onto that grin. “i’m trying. just, you know—” you vaguely do the motions of jazz hands, and V swore they could feel their heart jump while stifling a fit of giggles. “i get nervous, and then… this happens.”

“i think it’s sweet,” V said after a while, more sure of themself this time. “you don’t have to be perfect all the time. not with me.”

you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and your grin softened, became something more honest. “you think i’m sweet?”

V’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, the blush still warming their cheeks, but this time they didn’t look away. “yeah, i do.”

you stared at them for a long moment, feeling that nervous energy dissolve, replaced by something far more terrifying—a deep, aching tenderness you didn’t quite know how to express. you wanted to reach out, to touch V’s hand, to offer something real instead of your usual barrage of corny jokes. but all you could manage was a quiet, “you’re not so bad yourself.”

V bursts out laughing again, and this time, you laughed with them.

W OSTENDORF

W’s eyes, usually half-lidded with perpetual exhaustion, blinked in bewilderment as you approached them with an awkward bounce in your step. their sapphire gaze traced the way your fingers wavered, the unmistakable flourish of finger guns punctuating each hesitant attempt at flirtation.

“do you believe in love at first sight, or should i walk by again?” you asked, biting back the urge to laugh at yourself.

you watched as W blinked once, then twice, a momentary pause in their steady demeanor. they tilted their head slightly, considering you as if trying to figure out if you were serious. you were, in that embarrassing, frantic way only you could be.

the pick-up line hung in the air like an ill-fitting coat, and W’s mouth twitched, unsure whether to laugh or sigh. the line was delivered with a clumsy earnestness that made W’s heart ache, a mix of tenderness and exhaustion at the forefront of their expression. they rubbed a hand over their tired eyes, as if to clear away the fog of confusion that clung to them.

“um, no,” W said softly, their voice nearly a murmur. “i don’t think that’d be necessary.”

your smile wavered, a shaky thing like a candle in a draft. you laughed, a sound that was too loud, too eager. “well, that’s okay. i guess it already worked the first time, right?”

W swallowed hard, their gaze falling to the ground. if only you knew. but no matter, they thought about playing up the ‘exhausted and sleepy’ part so you won’t mind their silence to that question.

before they could say anything, however, you piped up again. “if i could rearrange the alphabet, i’d put U and I together.”

this time, W face started going red. they opened their mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, clearly unsure whether they should laugh or feel embarrassed on your behalf at this point. they had the air of someone caught in a sudden rainstorm, unprepared for the onslaught, trying to find cover but too polite to complain about getting wet.

your heart stuttered in your chest, unsure if you were supposed to be pleased by the way W’s lips trembled in the smallest of smiles or if you should simply bury yourself in shame at the way they’re turning red like they’re holding in a laugh.

W’s gaze dropped again, their thumbs rubbing nervously over each other. they smiled through their tiredness, but it was shy, careful, like they were afraid it might be taken the wrong way. “that’d be nice. you’re nice.”

and there it was—the words that always unraveled you the most. that delicate kindness, that indulgent air in W that made all of your jokes feel so hollow in comparison. you didn’t deserve someone like them, not with your clumsy attempts at flirting, not with the way you turned every silence into some absurd joke that made all the involved parties uncomfortably awkward.

you cleared your throat, but your voice cracked as you spoke again. “do you… do you have a map? because i keep getting lost in your eyes.”

a pause. W bit their lip, their face now a full shade of ripe tomatoes, and they let out the faintest sound—a stifled laugh, maybe, or something close to it. “i don’t… have a map.”

your heart skipped a beat. it was working! or maybe it wasn’t, but W wasn’t running away. they were standing there, red-faced with the dark circles under their eyes, and you realized that for all your blundering, W wasn’t retreating. they stayed, almost frozen in place, a slightly amused flutter in their gaze but no sign of discomfort. maybe it wasn’t such a ridiculous plan after all.

“elmo?” you asked, your voice quieter now, soft in the way you knew W preferred. “you’re not… mad at me, are you? for being like this?”

W looked startled by the sudden change in tone, their demeanor turning protective. “mad? no, never. why would i be mad?”

“because i’m such a loser around you. i always have been.” your hands twitched, the shadow of finger guns hanging awkwardly in the air between you. “i thought you’d have gotten tired of me by now.”

W’s heart softened, the edges of their amusement fading in the presence of your vulnerability. “i’ve never ever thought or felt like that. if i’m being honest, i think i even prefer this side of you at times.”

you blinked, something anxious flickering in your eyes. “really? i wouldn’t have guessed you’d have a thing for corny losers like me.”

W’s gaze softened even more, and before they knew it, they had reached out, their fingers gently brushing against your wrist, a tentative connection.

“i like you,” they murmured, their voice soft and barely more than a whisper. “cheesy pick-up lines and all.”

your breath caught, and for once, you didn’t have a quick response. instead, you stared at W with wide eyes, something genuine and quiet passing between you in the absence of words.

“you don’t have to do anything,” they whispered, “except stay.”

D DIACONU

D watched you with that signature half-lidded stormy gray gaze, the one that always felt like it held a secret; as though they were privy to something no one else was. their arms are crossed loosely over their chest, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of their mouth.

you, meanwhile, were fumbling. your usual bravery melted into something far less cool, your hands twitching in an exaggerated motion—finger guns, of all things. D almost laughed then but swallowed it down, amused at the absurdity of it. this wasn’t their first time witnessing you stumble over your own feet, and it wouldn’t be the last, but there was something undeniably endearing about it, like watching a bird try to fly while forgetting it doesn’t have wings.

“are you from tennessee?” you asked, your voice catching in the back of your throat. you shot the finger guns again, and D had to suppress an eye-roll at the cheesiness of it all. “because you’re the only ten i see.”

D didn’t react immediately. instead, they watched you with careful precision, letting the silence hang just long enough to feel like a challenge.

“i’m from texas actually,” D’s voice was a low southern drawl, honeyed with amusement. “common mistake, eh?”

you shifted nervously under their gaze, all the awkwardness evident in your stance.

“yeah, i know. i just... thought it was cute,” you answered, almost defensively, your hands still hanging in midair, unsure what to do now that the moment was spiraling out of your control.

a quiet laugh slipped from D’s lips, smooth as silk, barely more than a breath. they uncrossed their arms and stepped forward, closing the distance between you in a way that felt deliberate, dangerous.

“you think this is how you get my attention?” their voice was low, teasing, but there was a flicker of something that hinted at just how carefully D was watching your every move. “cute little lines and finger guns?”

you flushed under the intensity of that stare, scrambling to regain control of the situation. “well, i— yeah, i thought maybe... it would work?” you winced at your own words. god, could this get any worse?

D leaned in just close enough to make your pulse race. “you think i go for cute?” the words were laced with a challenge, a dare for you to keep going, to push past your limits.

you swallowed, every instinct telling you to back down, but instead, you doubled down on the only defense you knew.

“you remind me of a dictionary,” you grinned, forcing out another pick-up line, desperate to keep from crumbling under D’s pinning stare, “because you really do add meaning to my life.”

this time, D did laugh—a rich, joyful sound that seemed to unravel the tension between you in one graceful swoop. they pulled back just enough to catch your eye, shaking their head in disbelief. “you really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

your face burned with embarrassment, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath all the practiced allure and playful flirtations. they weren’t mocking you, not really. in fact, there was a hint of appreciation buried in their amusement, a quiet acknowledgment that you, as ridiculous as you were, had managed to catch their attention in a way nobody else could.

D’s fingers brushed lightly against your wrist, the touch fleeting but electric. “you’re lucky i find this... entertaining. otherwise, you’d be in way over your head.”

you blinked, thrown by the sudden shift in energy. you opened your mouth to respond, but D’s hand was already moving, their fingers ghosting up your arm in a way that left you breathless, speechless.

“i think,” D continued, their voice almost a whisper now, “i like watching you try. you’re terrible at it, no doubt about that, but... there’s something about the way you stumble through it.” their eyes locked onto yours, something unreadable flickering in the depths of their gaze. “i’ve never met someone like you. that much, i can admit.”

you felt your heart skip a beat, your words catching in your throat. all the cheesy pick-up lines, the awkward flirting—none of it seemed to matter anymore, not under the affection in D’s gaze, not when they were standing so close that it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

“maybe i’m just a uniquely jumbled mess,” you muttered, your voice barely audible, but D’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, pulling you closer with a softness that was almost unnerving.

“you definitely are, dragă mea,” D agreed, their lips ghosting over yours, so close that it felt like a kiss, but not quite. “but it’s one of the little things i like about you.”

and with that, they kissed you, slow and deliberate, like they’d been waiting for this moment longer than they’d ever let on. you melted into them, every nerve alight, the awkwardness and self-doubt slipping away in the warmth of D’s touch. this, right here, was what you’d been gunning for all along.

M WHITLOCK-SINGH

M had never known someone quite like you. there was something so bafflingly endearing about you, as if you existed to disrupt V’s neatly ordered world with your awkward charm and unbearable nervousness. it wasn’t that you meant to do so, but the way you flirted—if you could even call it that—made M’s head spin despite their usual stoicism.

they could see it coming a mile away, the way your eyes darted from the floor to M’s face and back again, like you were gathering the courage to throw yourself off a cliff. and then it happened.

your finger guns shot up, aimed clumsily at a literal heir to the british throne. “well, here i am. what were your other two wishes?”

M blinked, incredulity washing over them. seriously? again?

there was a moment of silence that hung heavy in the air, before you, still flustered, tried again. “if you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple.”

M sighed, pressing the heels of their palms to their eyes. it was like being trapped in a bad dream, except it wasn’t bad, not really. it was you, standing there, losing your composure in a way that made you seem so painfully human. so vulnerable.

“you’ve got to be kidding me.” M’s voice was low, restrained, an edge of amusement barely detectable. they crossed their arms, leveling you with a look that was part disbelief, part... something else. “is this really your idea of flirting?”

you winced, but it was clear you were trying to save face. “what, do they not like compliments in england?”

“compliments?” M’s laugh was sharp, but not exactly mocking. “you’re telling me those were compliments?”

“okay, maybe not my best,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck, your voice dropping into something that sounded closer to sincerity. “but… i mean, you’re kind of distracting, your majesty. you can’t really blame me.”

W narrowed their eyes to hide their barely suppressed delight, studying the way you fidgeted, the way your hands couldn’t seem to stay still. it was always like this—you trying so hard to be smooth, to make M smile with these ridiculous pick-up lines that felt like they belonged in a teen rom-com from the 90s and early 2000s.

“distracting?” M repeated, taking a step closer, watching as your breath stuttered. “how so?”

you swallowed, eyes wide, trying to keep it together. “like… you know… hard to think straight.”

a beat passed, and then M did something unexpected—they laughed. a soft, surprised sound that felt different from their usually polite, regal chuckle. and yet, it somehow sounded better. you blinked, as if unsure whether to be relieved or even more nervous.

“before i met you, i never thought i’d see the day,” M murmured, stepping even closer, the laughter settling into a smile, “when someone would try to flirt with me using finger guns.”

you smiled back, sheepish but hopeful. “well, i aim to please you with my moves. call me twinkle-toes.”

M shook their head, but the smile that tugged at the corners of their mouth betrayed them. they didn’t want to admit it, but something about the whole thing—the terrible pick-up lines, the way you stumbled over your words, the sheer awkwardness of it—was getting to them. softening them, in a way nothing else had.

“you’re a bumbling idiot,” V said quietly, but there was no malice in it. just a strange sort of fondness.

you started to grin. “but i’m your bumbling idiot, right?”

“maybe,” M whispered, voice like a velvet secret. “but i’d suggest you not throw those words so loudly in public.”

your laugh was shaky, but real. “noted. i’ll—uh, keep that in mind, your highness.”

M smiled softly, warmth flickering in their chest despite themself. “just call me by my name, meri jaan. i’d prefer it more right now.”

[lilisettean]

Unspoken Rivalry | Zayne/Reader + Implied!Caleb/Reader

About: Ever since that incident, you rarely mentioned Caleb to anyone. So when you suddenly brought him up while in the fitting room with Zayne, his curiosity was piqued, albeit unwillingly.

Pairings: Zayne/Reader, Implied!Caleb/Reader

Notes: Sorry for repost and not smut haha. Decided to put all my L&DS writings here on this sideblog instead of my main blog because I didn't want to muddle things up. Anyway got this idea when Zayne was surprised at MC knowing how to tie a tie and I was like, HMMM maybe because she had practice with Caleb??? But nope the game went the other way.

AO3: Read here!

Warning: Implied love triangle.

“I’m shocked. I didn’t expect you to be good at tying a tie.”

You inspected the black tie you had selected for Zayne for a moment, nodding in approval at your own tastes. 

“Why, of course.” You said with a smile, glancing at him before directing him to face the full length mirror before you two. “I had a lot of practice.”

“Practice?”

“Caleb.” Zayne raised his eyebrows at the sudden mention of that name; your mutual childhood friend who had sadly passed away months prior. You rarely mentioned him nowadays, so to hear his name slip past your lips without anything prompting was a surprise.

“I… I used to do his tie for him before we went to school.” You whispered, fond memories of you tying his school tie while you complained about him not doing it himself surfaced. It felt like it was just yesterday when you complained about his odd request of making you do this every school day morning, but now… 

“I’m sure he’s capable of doing it himself.” Zayne remarked, careful with his choice of words. He eyed you through the mirror, pointedly ignoring the sting of jealousy that made itself known when he saw you smiled wistfully.

You shook your head and looked ahead, eyes unseeing and absorbed in those innocent, carefree days where everything was still normal. “He said it’s for good luck.” You explained, missing the light bemused snort beside you. “He would whine about not having the goddess of luck’s blessing if I didn’t.” 

‘That could’ve been you in his place.’ A traitorous part of him mumbled, and Zayne promptly shoved that thought back to the corners of his mind. But it ceased to be silenced. ‘That should’ve been you. But you chose to distance yourself.’ 

‘It was for her sake.’ 

‘But was it worth it? Missing precious time with her? Being replaced by someone else?’ That voice hissed, reminding him of the reluctant distance he had placed between him and you. He told himself that it was necessary for him to focus on his studies if he wanted to take care of you in the future, and that indulging in your presence then would only hinder his carefully laid plans. ‘You were the perfect match for her and yet you–’ 

Opting not to let his darker, less desirable thoughts taunt him, Zayne focused on you instead, placing a hand behind the small of your back and brought you before the mirror. 

“Do you think we still match?” He asked, his hushed question barely over the calming instrumentals that the shop you were in chose to play. If it weren’t for him being right next to you, you would’ve missed his question entirely.

You scrutinized his outfit through the mirror, and smiled. “I think we do.” 

“Good.” Zayne let out a breath he unconsciously held back. He stared at his reflection once more, wondering. Would he have had the same treatment if he had stayed?

If Caleb was still the same boy he had met all those years ago, he would’ve hated you extending the same care towards Zayne himself. He remembered being at the receiving end of Caleb’s piercing gaze multiple times when they were still together, especially when you had looked to Zayne instead of him for certain matters.

‘The past matters naught. What’s important is now and the future.’ He thought as he turned his focus towards you, silencing the doubts of you favoring Caleb over him.

“Will you tie my tie for me on that day then?” He asked, the corners of his lip threatening to twitch upward when you stared at him, perplexed.

“Do you need the goddess of luck’s blessing as well?” You joked in response, only to sigh when you realized he was serious. “Don’t tease me, Zayne. Why would you need me to do it anyway?”

“For luck.”

“Why would you need luck of all things? It’s just a banquet!”

“You never know.” Zayne parroted the words you said this morning. You sighed, wondering if he lied about only studying and joined a debate club when he was still in school.

“Fine! I don’t understand why you and Caleb want me to tie it when you two could do it better than me.” A small smile appeared on his face as you grumbled, preparing to change out of the outfit he had picked out for you.

‘You will understand eventually.’ He thought as a staff member approached him with his card and receipt in hand, thanking him for his patronage. 

‘For what man wouldn’t want their goddess' attention?’

[mustainegf]

OK. So you and ‘97 james r besties. You and him r play fighting. you pull on that fuckin wolf choker, and he *whines* and it turns into him dry humping you as you pull on the choker ♥️🦐

GUYS I JUST WANNA SAY IN ADVANCE!!! yes I know that irl James got the wolf necklace from cliff!! This is in no way disrespect to cliff or his memory. Let’s say James bought the necklace for himself in this fic!!

𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 ¹⁹⁹⁷

What had begun as only another night, the evening innocently begun was just hanging out with James, my best friend, one with whom I was really just myself, had seen us spend countless hours upon this very same couch. We watched movies and talked about life, and sometimes we would just be in each other's soundless company, speaking without speaking.

A giggle rose, small, in the air between James and me as he started wresting with me on the couch. His rough hands held playfully to my arms as I pushed against him. It was an old game, waged hundreds of times before. There was a bubbly feeling of laughter. Yes, we were always close, but this was one of those moments when all our friendship cereal had gotten saturated with flirtation milk.

James had been showing off the stupid wolf choker he had recently been wearing, thinking it added something to his appearance, making him look 'edgy' or whatever. I couldn't help myself from teasing him about this. Slumped back on the couch, he hovered me with a smug grin smeared on his face, very obviously proud of the necklace, and I wasn't going to let this go without a little teasing given at his expense.

I reached forward and took the choker, pulling on it lightly. My fingers brushed against the leather as the metal wolf's head gleamed under the room light, and I couldn't resist yanking at it a little more, leaning into the joke. "Oh, oh, oh, look at the little wolf necklace on the tough guy!" I went on in my teasing way, voice of honey and sugar, as I tried for the big pitch, mocking.

James whined softly, a sound I hadn't expected to hear... at all. But something changed. The more I pulled on the necklace, the more James's expression changed. His eyes went darker. His gaze glued onto mine, and for a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't even breathe.

His breath was warm against my cheek, the kind that makes your pulse scramble as he got within an inch from my face. His lips were close enough for me to feel the heat coming off them.

The next thing I knew, I could feel him nudging against my leg, his hips shifting in a way that made my breath catch in my throat. It was electric, just a slow burn melting through my veins as realization set in. James let out this low, throaty moan, his eyes flicking shut for a brief moment as he leaned in even closer, if it was even possible.

His whines left me a bit in shock, my mind struggling to catch up with such a sudden change, but there couldn't be any denial in the fact that the flair of attraction from before had somehow turned into an actual full-blown fire. That look, the hunger, was impossible to tear my eyes from.

It was as if every wall we'd built over the years of just being friends crumbled in literal seconds. I yanked harder on the necklace, the leather biting into my fingers as I pulled, the silver of the wolfs head glimmering under my grip. I felt a strange control as James' eyes started to tip back into his head. His hips thrusted to some internal time as his cock was batted against my thigh, causing his flesh to tremble with every stroke.

"Ah, James, you are such a dirty boy," I teased, my voice raspy in a way I had not meant. It just slipped out, the words oozing out of me. "You like when I do that…pull on your little necklace, don't you?"

James's answer was a low growl, his hips jerking faster the way he was humping me, and his desperation sent a shiver up my spine. I just had to laugh at the comedy involved. Who would ever have thought that playful fighting would come to this? It was ridiculous, really, the way we'd gone from teasing each other like children to this heated, erotic moment.

I whispered, "You want me to pull harder, don't you? You want me to make you cum..." The words were bold, so much bolder than what I'd ever used with him before, but they seemed so right.

James gave a strangled moan; the rest of his body vibrated, and his hips twitched, humping at me like he couldn't help himself, like it was life or death.

"Fu-fuck. yes.".

I kept tugging harder on the choker, its leather digging into his neck with every yank. This friction drove me absolutely mad, every move of his cock upon my leg brought us both a surge of pleasure. "Oh, James, you're so close," I teased, my voice soft. "I can feel it. You're gonna cum in your pants, aren't you?"

The words were both challenge and promise. I could feel the way they affected him, his entire body tensing as he humped faster, the jerking of his hips back and forth like it was his life. All of a sudden, his body shook, breath hitching in his throat, and he paused for a brief moment before a shudder seemed to shoot up his core.

I could feel how the heat of his release was soaking through his boxers, and it was becoming more noticed with every passing second as a tiny wet patch spread, the evidence of his orgasm staining the fabric.

James slumped against me, and his body held a tremor with the effort he had used. He let out a low groan, his chest pumping up and down as he fought for breath. Again, I couldn't help letting a giggle out at just how ridiculous this all was. "You're such a dirty boy, James," I whispered into his ear.

James leaned back then, a lazy smile melted on his face, his eyes half lidded. "You're the one who's dirty," he panted. "You're the one who made me cum…"

I laughed, soflty, gazing back at the man. "Maybe I am," I said playfully, my tone light as I reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. "But, you have to admit, it was fun."

James's grin widened, and the thread of fatigue broke as he leaned closer to nuzzle his nose against mine. "Of course," he whispered. His fingers trailed down my arm, sending shivers up my spine as he murmured, "Bedroom. Now. Where we can settle this the right way."

The dominant words suddenly caused a pool of pleasure between my thighs.

"And the necklace stays on."

[wonderfull-star]

A scandalous episode for many, which in my opinion changes the general image of fairies (clearly not for the better)

Many people were shocked, to put it mildly, after watching this episode. And many were unhappy and even more frightened by the behavior of Cosmo and Wanda, which I can't help but agree with. However, I liked this episode on the contrary. It shows the darker evil nature of fairies and how crazy they can sometimes become if someone simply offends their child. And it doesn't matter that this is their godson. Because of this, it now really seems to me that fairies are not who they pretend to be and the creators sometimes directly show this. For example, this phase of fairies at 2 years old(terrible twosome) when they start to go crazy and rebel against everything. You will say that "it's just a phase." Really? And the fact that Poof almost destroyed the entire Earth in this episode is considered "just a phase"? The fact that fairies can destroy all life just because of this phase begins to worry. Like, what makes them do all these terrible things? A sudden change in behavior or ….. an inner voice inside that is their secret dark essence??And if you remember the anti-fairies who are the complete opposite of fairies, then I'm starting to seriously think that they are less dangerous than them. And this is not the only scandalous episode…

(Poor Timmy… What the heck??)

And going back to that scandalous episode, I had a thought: "what if all this was true?" Because Cosmo and Wanda were enjoying this suspiciously so much and it all looked extremely realistic.. And the fact that they really left Timmy with injuries and bruises made me think that this is true and they really turn into monsters after 8 hours. And you know what? This would be a great idea for more lore between fairies and anti fairies (they, as opposites in THIS way, would look incredibly cool). And it would also be a great idea for creating some kind of horror game (well, just a note)

*Redacted

+comments to this episode

This is really.. something….

[reachedrafe]

The edge of the island

Summary : On a summer night in the Outer Banks, you find yourself caught in a dangerously seductive encounter with Rafe Cameron, where desire and danger collide.

Warnings : Sexual content (no actual smut!), Power dynamics, Kinda dark themes, Very mild aggressive behaviour in interactions

This is my first post so let's be nice please! 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

The air in the Outer Banks was definitely not thin, the opposite at that. It was thick with the scent of saltwater and wild jasmine, mingling together as the summer sun began to slowly set. The parties on the island were infamous and tonight was no different. The sound of laughter, giggles, glasses clinking and music echoed through the night as you found yourself wandering towards the darker side of the beach, away from the bonfires and revelry.

You weren't sure why you had come. Something about the night felt weirdly different, a pull you couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the whispers you had heard, the one about the pouges and the Cameron's. The island was full of stories, but none were as exciting, as dangerous, as the ones surrounding Rafe Cameron.

The Cameron estate loomed in the distance, half hidden behind the tall palms and thick foliage, but you knew the path well. You had been there before-many times, in fact. But tonight the mansion felt more ominous, as though it was holding its breath, waiting for something. Or someone.

"Looking for something?" a voice drawled from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turned, your breath hitching as you came face to face with the man himself. Rafe Cameron. His blond hair was slightly tousled, and there was the signature smirk tugging at his lips, the one that made your heart race in equal parts fear and excitement. His eyes dark and hooded, raked over you with an intensity that made your knees weak.

"I think I found it" you breathed out, your voice steady, though you could feel the wild fluttering in your chest.

Rafe's smirk deepend, a wicked glint sparkling in his eyes as he stepped closer, his body heat radiating into the space between you. "You sure about that?" he murmured, his voice low, the words laced with a seductive challenge.

Before you could answer, his hand was on your waist, pulling you against him. Sudden contact stole your breath, your body molding to his as if you'd been here a thousand times before. His touch was firm, possessive, the heat of his skin searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

"Rafe," you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips feeling both like a prayer and curse.

He dipped his head, his lips ghosting over your neck, just enough to make you shiver. "You've been playing this game for a while now," he said, his voice rough and dark, each word sending sparks down your spine "but do you even know the rules?"

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin just under your ear, his hand sliding lower, fingers pressing into the small of your back. "Maybe I don't care about the rules," you manage to say, your voice trembling with a mixture of defiance and desire.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, vibrating through you. "That's were it gets interesting," he murmured, his lips brushes against yours in a tantalising tease that left you aching for more.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, as if the very night was holding its breath, waiting to see what would happen next. Rafe's hand moved with a slow deliberate intent, each touch a promise of something more, something darker. His lips finally met yours, not with the soft, tentative pressure of a first kiss, but with a raw, hungry intensity that sent shockwaves through your whole body.

He kissed you like he was claiming you, like you were a prize he had been hunting, and now that he had you, he wasn't letting go. His hands roamed your body, exploring with a kind of urgency that matched the wild rhythm of your heartbeat.

As his mouth moved against yours, his hands slid up your thighs, his fingers trailing heat in there wake. The darkness of the night closed in around you, the world shrinking down to just the two of you, to feel his body pressed against yours, the taste of him on your lips.

Rafe pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his breath ragged. "Tell me you want this," he demanded, his voice low and rough, the words sending a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your answer was immediate with no hesitation, "I want this" you breathed, your voice heavy with the same dark desire that mirrored in his eyes.

His lips crashed against yours once more, the kiss deeper, more intense, as if your words had unleashed something in him. And on that moment, nothing else mattered, not the whispers, not the danger, not the darkness that surrounded him. All that mattered was the way he made you feel, the way he was unravelling you with every touch, every kiss pushing you closer to the edge of something thrillingly unknown.

[nicolesainz]

take it off and maybe we’ll get along (cs 55)

Carlos Sainz x f!reader

Warnings: smut, sexual themes, sub reader x dom carlos, minors dni, foreplaying, angst, 2% of fluff

Summary: things tend to get heated when your and his favorite team play against

“Mi amor, are you coming down soon? We’re going to be late!” Carlos shouts from the living room as loud noises echo from the television.

“Okay! I’m ready. We can go now” I show up from our room, with my bag on one hand and my hoodie on the other.

Carlos and I have been invited to a bowling game that Charles organized with Lando, George, Alex, Lily, Pierre and Kika. We agreed that it would be nice for the boys to take some time out and for us girls to have fun altogether.

Carlos stands up, closing the Tv. As he turns around his smiley face darkens and turns into a serious, deadly one, as if I had done the most unearthly crime ever.

“Cariño, what are you wearing? He comes closer to me and I can clearly understand why he asks me that question, following his sudden change of expression.

“What? Don’t I look nice? I thought, since we won’t watch the game, I could root for my team by wearing my jersey” Carlos’s eyes scan me from head to toe, with flames flaring out of them.

At some point his eyes get fixed at the place in my chest where the badge of the team is standing. His index finger starts tracing it slowly, whilst his eyes rise and lock with mine. The soft brown that used to light has been taken over by a darker shade, sending shivers all over my body.

“What are you doing?” I let out with a shaky breath, almost whispering the words as he continues to shape each letter that is on my shirt and hits beneath my chest. His hand goes back up and lands on my heart that is currently beating very rapidly.

“What makes your heart beat faster? A single touch of mine or a glorifying win of your team?” At this point my nipples had gone hard, even through my bra and they were visible enough to his eyes. Also me tiptoeing to reach his height made my answer more clear.

I couldn’t utter a single letter and only deep breathing would come out of my mouth. Carlos knows that under certain circumstances has me wrapped under his pinky and I could never say no.

“How about, we took this shirt of yours off and test my theory, huh?” Before I even replied, his hands had gone under my shirt, caressing my skin. My eyes were shut and enjoying the sensation of his fingertips leaving tingles and sparks.

“Carlos, we need to-“ his mouth softly landed on my neck, started leaving wet kisses and sucking my skin, caressing with his tongue the spots he would leave his mark on.

“How about, you let me take care of my baby for tonight?” He whispers breathing deep on my neck and causing me to let out a soft groan. I didn’t have to agree or say anything. This was more than a confirmation to him.

“Wonderful” Carlos picked me up with one hand and with the other removed my shirt, pulling it from the hem and tossing it away. His lips attach to mine in a hungrily way, as both of his hands now, make their way towards underneath my thighs, holding me firmly.

I can feel his arousal growing against me and my excitement skyrockets. Breathing seems like an unnecessary task when all I could do is kiss him until my very last moment.

We reach our bedroom but instead of landing on the bed, he guides us to the bathtub. He helps me land back on my feet and starts playing with the hem of my leggings. His finger grabs the lace of my underwear.

“Strip for me amor. Strip until I fall on my knees for you. Strip until you start begging for forgiveness” he commands and I place my hands on my thighs, slowly pulling down my leggings. Carlos unbuckles his trousers and tosses them next to the bed. I have never seen him remove his Real Madrid jersey so hastily.

His beautifully strong built body, is a sight for sore eyes. The v-line showing off makes my eyes roll and I am slowly unbuttoning my bra, leaving myself exposed and extremely aroused.

“Leave them on baby. I wanna have the pleasure of striping you fully” he refers to my underwear, as he places me on the stand of the sink, separating my legs from one another.

His mouth lands on my thighs, kissing and licking them furiously, until he reaches the hem of my panties. His eyes make their path towards mine and as I am trying to control my breathing, Carlos exhales softly,

"I want eyes on me cariño. I want you to see how good I can make you feel. Until you drop on your knees for me" the seductiveness in his voice sends tingles all over my spine, causing me to bend more and open up my legs.

His teeth grab the hem and fiercely pulls down my panties, revealing my full names body to his eyes, which are sparkling once they take a good look of my embrace. The only person that can make me feel good about myself is Carlos. His words, his touch and kisses are my addiction, that I never want to give up.

"Qué belleza eres" (what a beauty you are). Do you remember our safe word, amor? I need to make sure I can worship you properly. And that consists any possible ways of fucking you and making you cum" my brain almost shuts off by his words, expecting the unexpected from him.

His fingers slowly creeped inside my already wet core, making me bite back a moan I was holding on for dear life.

“Oh how I adore this wetness of yours. Always ready for me” he mumbled against my lips, as his tongue was attacking mine, dancing softly against each other.

The pace became faster and faster making me clench even harder than before between his fingers. It was just the beginning and I needed more.

“Oh my darling, what do you desire?” Carlos took another quick look at my nakedness and flushed cheeks because of his touch. A smirk was shaped on his lips, casing my eyes to roll back again. I was trying to catch my breath but my fists were too occupied with the bedsheets.

“You. Forever you” I managed to let out, when I felt my hands being removed from the sheets, and being placed onto Carlos’s bare ass.

“I want us to cum together. I want you to touch me and be in command” his words shocked me as he usually was the one with the upper hand.

I kissed him once more softly, deepening the moment as much as I could, whist my hands were running all over his cheeks and thighs, pushing him inside my womanhood, wanting to fill my pussy at its maximum.

“Fucking hell. Keep up Y/N. I need you baby” Carlos breathed out as he was forcing himself even deeper inside of me, hitting my soft spot, earning a loud moan of his name that echoed through the room.

“Oh my word! Carlos!” I was in the seventh heaven, with his fingers playing with my aroused and hardened nipples. My fingers though were running through his long hair that had grown since the last Grand Prix.

“I’m so close cariño. You’re making me feel so good” he groaned in between licking my nipples and I was on the verge too. Love making with Carlos was one of my favorite things to do with him.

“I need you to get up and look at me” he commanded as his thrusts were getting faster and faster, because we couldn’t keep up anymore.

My legs were curled against his waist and I could feel his entire length inside me, filling me up with with every single of his juices, while I was covering his cock with my cum.

Carlos’s hands roamed through my hair, before landing back on my cheeks, caressing then softly with a kiss along the way. I always loved this version of Carlos. Soft, tender and angelic.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you, my love. You were amazing” his eyes were full of concern and my heart fluttered against his chest.

“You could never Carlos. You’re only making me happier as days go by!” I gift him a big smile and he wraps my entire body into a an equally big hug.

“I think we missed the date with the guys” I let out giggling, seeing all the texts from Kika and Lily worried as to where I am.

“And I think that we found a better way to spend our afternoon. One that we both enjoyed much more” Carlos winked at me playfully, earning a final giggle from me, before we restored to our calmness and peace against each other.

[artificial-transmutations]

Two sides of the same coin - MVP

"Come on! That shot was easy! Even a baby could have done it, even Cedric here!" Buck shouted in full voice.

Cedric tried to crawl into the plastic seat he was sitting in even further. If there was a dictionary entry for "cringe", there would be a picture of his father right next to it. The older man had been drinking heavily since noon, and when he wasn't shouting about how much better he was than everyone else, he was busy humiliating Cedric. Sometimes, like right now, he even managed to do both at the same time.

His dad, Buck, was the very definition of a redneck. From drinking during the day to the pickup truck he drove, everything about that 40 year old man fit together to form one big cliché. He was loud, drunk and always ready to pick a fight. He never missed an opportunity to tell you that you were doing something wrong or that you should try harder. And of course, he was always better than everyone else, at least in theory. The very definition of the Dunning-Kruger effect.

Cedric, on the other hand, was nothing short of a nerd. He had been raised by his mother after his parents divorced when he was three years old and was a smart guy. With his 20 years, he was already half way through university and working towards a Master's degree in computer science. But all that meant little to Buck. He couldn't stand anyone who wasn't as dumb as he was, and he especially hated nerds. Of course, another thing that made their relationship difficult was that Cedric was gay - a fact that Buck knew and constantly made fun of every chance he got.

Every now and then, Cedric tried to better his relationship with his dad, like today, where they went to a hockey game together. Cedric hated every second of it. The mind-numbing sport, the shouting, the drinking, the cliché male atmosphere... and of course his father. Well, it was halftime already, not much longer to endure.

"Hey, are you listening, boy?" Buck's pronunciation was slurred slightly, as he leaned closer.

"I said that I need to take a piss!" Buck said more loudly than necessary. "Come!"

Cedric didn't know why he had to come along, but he groaned and followed his father.

Since it was halftime, there already was a long line of men in front of the public restroom.

"See, that's what I'm talking about, they don't teach you the useful shit in your fancy school." Buck grumbled and pointed at the line. "Now look at them. They're all waiting their turn like good little boys. And they're gonna miss half of the game. Come on, this way."

Buck led Cedric through maintenance corridors until they arrived at a door, which he opened with a grand gesture.

"But this locker room here is never ever used. The players are all out in the field now and the door is always unlocked. If I were the manager here, I'd fire the janitor."

Buck shrugged his shoulder and walked to one of the steel urinals on the wall.

"You stand watch while your old man does his business!"

All of this made Cedric really uncomfortable. This was basically breaking into an area they were not supposed to be in, and he had to stand here and watch over his horrible dad.

Something on the ground caught his attention and he bent down to pick it up. A curious coin was lying on the floor. He pocketed it to show it a friend who was into collecting later. Perhaps at least something positive would come out of this.

He was interrupted in his thoughts by his father shouting loudly: "What the fuck!"

As he looked over, he saw that Buck was looking down at his crotch. At first, Cedric thought it was some kind of bad joke, but the surprise seemed genuine. Curiosity got the better of him and Cedric looked over. At first, he didn't understand what was wrong until he saw his dad's cock. It was really big, really dark and really stiff. Cedric didn't know why Buck was so aroused all of a sudden, but then he noticed something was clearly wrong. As he was watching, the stiff member got even darker and, more importantly, even longer. It was growing out in a frightening speed and looked less and less like flesh by the second.

"What's going on? Hold on, I'm gonna call the ambulance." Cedric took out his phone and cursed under his breath. No reception. Then he froze. The hand that was holding his phone was wrong. It was not his hand, but it was much bigger. His whole body was tingling weirdly, as his frame shot up in height and width. All of a sudden, his clothes felt tight and uncomfortable, and Cedric struggled to get out of them.

"What the hell?" He muttered, as he watched himself grow larger quickly. He was still wearing his jeans, but they were too small for him now. He quickly pulled them off and threw them away before he looked over to his dad again.

The older man had his own troubles. His cock had grown to at least 75 cm length by now and was obviously made out of blackened wood. The tip was larger and bent. Overall, it looked like a hockey stick that was firmly attached to the older man’s groin and just finished growing into the full size.

Just then, a clacking noise was heard as something fell down to the ground below Buck. He looked down to see a hockey puck between his legs and his face went white as he grabbed between his legs with his left hand.

"That's my balls! That's my freaking balls!"

Meanwhile, Cedric's body was becoming more and more muscular. His bi- and triceps grew huge, and his legs got stronger with firm muscles as well.

A slight coating of hair grew in on his pecs that became more manly and impressive by the moment. Impressive was also a good word to describe his crotch! A large cock and balls surrounded by some curly manly hair hung proudly between his massive legs.

Meanwhile, Bucks cock had finished transforming into a hockey stick. His clothing dissolved and revealed a most unusual sight: The skin on his upper body was getting redder, unnaturally so. However, below the waistline, his legs turned a bright blue. His whole body puffed out and looked more and more like synthetic fabric, probably polyester. His head on the other hand, became red and shiny metallic with his face forming into a protective metal grate.

Buck's crotch, which was already cock- and ballless turned into a protective cup, complete with jockstrap.

Cedric could only watch in shock as his former father collapsed to the ground, now nothing more than a heap of protective gear for a star hockey player. A hockey player like... Cedric? Cedric held his head, which squared out into a manly, rugged face. Yes, that seemed right. He needed to hurry, halftime was nearly over. He needed to get back to the ice, to bring his team to victory!

Cedric briefly wondered why he had stripped completely just to use the urinal, but he finished pissing quickly and got dressed again.

The bulky hockey uniform that was once Cedric’s father felt proud of his son for the first time as he tightly wrapped the large masculine body. His son was a star ice hockey player, and his job was to protect his body and be his tool - a task he felt most useful and content in.

If you enjoyed this story, perhaps the other ones of the series are also something you'd like.