#and the way his knife is sitting on his thigh

[kashverse]

My heart hurts for the lack of Toji requests 💔 but I am here…begging…for Toji fluff!!!! 🙈

i wanted to make this more cutesy but it became more funny instead LOL but please enjoy and do send more toji requests <3

megumi's got his little scout uniform all neat and tidy, the stupid hat sitting just right on his head like he's about to go door to door selling overpriced popcorn. he's standing there, all serious, tiny hands balled into fists, because he's been told that scouts are honorable, disciplined, and always prepared.

meanwhile, in the other corner of the house, your husband is getting ready for his daily activities, and let’s just say—toji’s version of "always prepared" involves an arsenal that would make a war general nervous.

"you got everything, gumi?" you ask, adjusting his collar. megumi, ever the professional, nods. "yes."

his checklist is immaculate. ✔ scout hat? on. ✔ badges? pinned (though he thinks they’re useless unless one is for hand-to-hand combat). ✔ badtz-maru socks? absolutely. (toji has no idea what the hell those are, but he keeps seeing that angry little penguin everywhere).

you give him a proud little pat, while behind you, there's a very different checklist happening.

✔ gun? loaded. ✔ knife? strapped to the thigh. ✔ sword? sharpened, because subtlety is not in this man’s vocabulary. ✔ grenade? just in case.

“alright, kid, don’t forget the scout motto," you say.

“be prepared.”

“good—”

CLICK.

you turn. toji’s just finished checking the safety on one of his guns, strapping it to his back like he’s starring in some underground action flick. megumi squints at him. 

“...what’s papa's motto?”

“uh…” you try to think of a way to phrase ‘leave no witnesses’ in a scout-friendly way. toji, who is in the middle of loading another weapon, grins. 

“work hard, play hard.”

megumi does not look convinced.

"oi, don’t gimme that look," toji says, shoving a blade into his belt loop. "you got your uniform, i got mine."

megumi crosses his arms. “mine doesn't come with weapons.” toji, without missing a beat, smirks. "sounds like a you problem."

you sigh, rubbing your temples. "toji, can you at least pretend to be a law-abiding citizen for five minutes? megumi’s going to do good deeds and earn his badges."

"so am i," toji says, patting the sword on his back like a proud dad watching his kid go off to college. megumi side-eyes him. "what kind of badge do you get for that?"

"money," toji says smoothly. "lots of it."

megumi seems to consider this for a long moment. then, with the biggest, most exaggerated sigh a five-year-old can muster, he tugs his scout hat lower and marches toward the door. “whatever. let's just go sell some popcorn.”

toji slaps a hand over his heart. "attitude like that, you’re never gonna get your capitalism badge, kid."

[luvv4j4ybe11]

This is actually sending mee like oh my fuck😩 he actually looks so fucking beefy I cannot. like his arms?, his thighs,THE PECSS? OUUU FUCK finna bust rn🤤, His back and his tail too? Mhm🤤 and the jewelry js adds to it🤤.

And let’s talk about that look too bc phew lawd if he were to look at me like that I wouldn’t know what to do😮‍💨, the way he’s holding his bow and the handle on the ikran saddle? Oh my god-

Neteyam girlies, I understand you.😮‍💨

[bi-writes]

thinking about being a new lieutenant working with laswell and getting to meet her a-team, tf141, and immediately clashing with your equivalent. that other lieutenant that wears a fucking costume and glares whenever he sees you, simon fucking riley. (kinda dark, 18+)

you hate him. you hate how good he does in the field. it sickens you when you see how every knife he throws hits its target with disgustingly perfect accuracy. you sneer when he aims his rifle, each bullet going exactly where he wants it to go because he's that fucking good, look at him, big man with a big fucking head and a big--

god, it's so frustrating to be out here for so long. on a cot, so far away from everything, reporting back to laswell and then spending time with a task force who is so intelligent on the field but shares one fucking brain cell off of it.

and it's so lonely. it's so lonely, and you feel so far away, and when you show up in front of ghost's room that evening, you don't even exchange words as he steps aside, letting you slink into the dark of it. you don't speak as he crowds you against the door, as he pushes you up against it, when he reveals the lower half of his face so he can kiss you and taste you in every way he's wanted to since he met you. you're so fucking annoying, you crawl under his skin, and when he tastes you, he sucks, his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth as he tugs his cargo pants just under his cock and hoists you up around his waist.

it's just stress relief, you tell yourself as he fucks you against the rattling door. i just need a little relief, is what you say to yourself as he mumbles against yours lips, gripping the fat of your hips in his big hands and putting his cock to good use. he's not gentle, but you don't want him to be. he's too good at what he does, you were hoping he would have fault in one fucking area of his life, but even like this, he shows you just how well he fucks and just how big he really is, everywhere.

please, please, please--! you beg. he snickers, and it's mean, and he's sucking a warm bruise into your neck when he mutters, "tha'sit, swee'eart. we both know who's really in charge, eh? yeah--yeah, good girl--y'r such a good girl--"

and you are. cum soaked thighs, your mouth still on his when he finally comes, grunting as he fills you so full, it's dripping onto your thighs, onto his, dampening the clothes neither of you bothered to take off. and when you leave, you tell yourself this will never happen again, that ghost will keep this a secret because he hates you just as much, that ghost is discreet and quiet and values his privacy, and if you don't speak of this again, neither will he. it suddenly comforts you how closed off he is.

so it does surprise you when the next morning comes, and you go to sit with your team to eat, that ghost snarls when you try and take a seat beside him. you expect this to be a rude gesture, but you squeak when he grips you around the waist and forces you into his lap. you stiffen, but his sergeants barely bat an eye. the braid of your hair is yanked backwards, and you gasp when you feel his breath against your ear, even through the mask.

"the casual shaggin' sort of deal? not m'thing, luvvie. now eat y'r breckie, swee'eart, 'm fuckin' hungry, and 'm not very patient."

he used to think having one of his sergeant's underneath him was the kind of power-play that got him right off.

wrong.

nothing like fucking a pretty little lieutenant good enough she can't fucking remember how to speak.

[saymio]

The Salesman headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, stalking+kidnapping, dub/noncon, DDLG, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. classes started again so I'm taking longer to write, enjoy my hc's while u wait for a longer fic.

The Salesman, the man that found you sitting on a bench all alone crying in the middle of the night. he couldn't help but feel pity for you, like you were a puppy that was left alone out in the rain.

The Salesman, the man that came home late from doing his usual recruiting, feeling his pants getting tighter and tighter every time he replays your bloodshot eyes and shaky pathetic voice.

The Salesman, the man that decides he wants to stalk your every move after he saw you crying all alone. watching you as you try looking for places that would accept you as a worker, or when you pleasure yourself. watching through your open blinds.

The Salesman, the man that will record you while you change, sleep, and do other things around your house. jerking off to your unsuspected body, who would assume a creep was watching them through their window?

The Salesman, the man that gets front row tickets to your freak out. he sent a couple of photos he took of you sleeping to your phone number and now you're frantically running around the house. locking all your doors, windows and covering any opening you could think of. God, you looked so small and weak when you were scared.

The Salesman, the man that met eyes with you while you stood in front of a brightly lit love motel. his jaw clenching and eyes filled with rage, what were you doing here? its obvious you're a virgin, just one look at you and he could probably recite your entire life story. so why were you trying to meet up with someone here? were you going to fuck a stupid child? a boy your age doesn't know how to make a girl feel good...you need an older man to help you..

The Salesman, the man that had kidnapped you in broad 'daylight'. right infront of the motel, right infront of dozens of cameras. watching you squirming body and tears run down your face..but you cant say a word because you mouth has been duck taped shut.

The Salesman, the man that feels a strong urge to just keep you safe. to protect you from the world and let you stay home to do nothing. And the only way you'll be safe is if you stay with him. forever.

The Salesman, the man that will force you onto his cock with no remorse as you yell in pain. you've never had something this big so it feels like you've been split in half...he loves it. he loves your pain.

The Salesman, the man that will treat you like your a stupid child. petting your head and rubbing your cheek while he slowly explains the rules of the game he wants to play with you. like if he were to speak faster you'd get confused.

The Salesman the man that sets you loose in an abandoned warehouse. telling you if you hide for 2 hours without getting touched you win..and get to go home without any more abuse to your hole.

The Salesman, the man that caught you only 2 minutes before the timer went out. dark eyes piercing into yours as he smiles a creepy wide grin. "caught you~"

The Salesman, the man that enjoys your shaky eyes and rapid breathing when he finds you. he thinks its funny, you probably think he's going to kill you. but he wants to do worse

The Salesman, the man that will tie you up to a large bed. items laid out on a desk next to him...the prize for the salesman when he wins was he gets to pick what he can use on you.. he picked a whip, knife, and..his own dick.

The Salesman, the man that whips your body until youre screaming in pain and begging him to let you go...but he only gets worse as his boner gets more prominent against his slacks.

The Salesman, the man that carves "daddies slut" onto your right thigh. licking the blood that dripped down your thighs as he did so.

The Salesman, the man that will make you call him dad and daddy. he finds it so cute how your little voice says it. like a scared little girl calling out for her dad...

The Salesman, the man that drops you off right where he found you. you just had new bruises and cuts now.

Another note: I hope you guys liked this one hshsh, I'm working on a noeul fic rn. idk when it'll come out doe.. T T T T

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[libingan]

simon riley is a munch it’s canon

simon “ghost” riley was absolutely obsessed with you—specifically, with your cunt. it was an addiction, a fixation, something primal that he couldn’t shake. he didn’t care where you were, what you were doing, or if you were even ready. the man would drop to his knees without hesitation, like he was born for the sole purpose of worshiping you.

—

you could be at the counter, chopping vegetables for dinner, humming to yourself as you moved about. simon could be supposed to be setting the table, but instead, he’d be standing behind you, staring at the way your ass swayed with every movement.

“you expect me to just sit here and eat dinner after this?” he’d ask, his deep voice thick with hunger.

before you could respond, his hands would be on your hips, and he’d be tugging your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion. you’d gasp, but simon wouldn’t give you a chance to protest.

“let me have a taste, love,” he’d murmur, sinking to his knees and spreading your cheeks apart. his hot breath would fan over your folds, and you’d tremble as his tongue darted out to lick a slow, deliberate stripe up your cunt.

“fuck, always so perfect,” he’d growl, his lips pressing wet kisses to your clit. “could spend hours here. don’t need anything else.”

your hands clutch at the counter for support, your knife long forgotten, as simon devoured you like a man starved.

—

you could be curled up on the couch, lost in your favorite show, when simon walked in. you might not notice him at first, but the second he’d see you—legs tucked under you, wearing one of his t-shirts—he couldn’t help himself.

he’d sit down beside you, his hand sliding up your thigh as he leaned in close. “you smell so fuckin’ good,” he’d mutter, his voice low and rough.

“simon, I’m watching—”

“don’t care,” he’d cut you off, already pulling at your panties. “need you right now.”

before you could protest, he’d pull you down the couch, spreading your legs over his broad shoulders as he settled between them. his lips could brush against your inner thigh, and he’d look up at you, his eyes dark and hungry.

“gonna talk to you, love,” he’d murmur, his voice a mix of reverence and lust. “gonna tell this sweet cunt how much i love it. how fuckin’ perfect it is.”

and then his mouth would be on you, his tongue circling your clit, his lips sucking gently as he moaned against you. you could feel him rutting against the couch, so worked up just from the taste of you.

—

it could be early morning, and you could still be half-asleep when you’d feel him stir beside you. you’d think he was just shifting, but then his lips would be on your thighs, trailing slow, lazy kisses up to your center.

“simon,” you’d mumble, voice heavy with sleep.

“shh, love,” he’d whisper, pulling the blankets down to expose you. “just need a little taste. promise i’ll be gentle.”

you’d barely have time to process his words before his mouth would be on you, his tongue slipping between your folds with practiced ease. his hands could grip your hips, holding you in place as he worked, his groans vibrating against you.

“this cunt,” he’d mutter between licks, his voice muffled and desperate. “could fuckin’ die happy right here. don’t even need to be inside you. this is enough.”

and it would be true. simon wouldn’t care if he got off or not—just having you like this, tasting you, hearing your moans, would be enough to send him over the edge every time.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt. Nanny Wilson

Little Danny is almost lost in the mall when his parents suddenly run too fast in an attempt to catch up a ghost that their equipment has detected. Young Fenton is not a crybaby at all, but being alone without daddy and mommy is a little scary, so he begins to whimper and run around, trying to find familiar features in the blurry figures around him. Finally, he bumps into the thigh with a gun. It doesn't look much like an ectoblast, but dad is always inventing something new, so Danny quickly hugs this leg as hard as he can and begs loudly.

Danny: Daddy! Don't leave me! Slade: What the hell… Boy, I'm not your dad.

Danny blinks a few times and realizes that this man really doesn't look like Jack.

Danny: Oh. I'm sowwy. Can you help me find my daddy?

Slade: What makes you think I'm going to do this?

Danny: You have a gun and dad has a gun, so you're good. Are you here to hunt too? Slade: Something like that...What's your father's name, kid?

Jack: Danny! There you are!

A huge figure in a hazmat suit rushes towards them and Danny notices that his new friend is hastily hiding the weapon. To cheer up the man who is obviously meeting Jack Fenton for the first time, Danny smiles broadly. Dad may look scary, but he doesn't steal other people's toys.

Jack: Oh, thanks for looking after him. Our goal turned out to be too fast and we didn't even notice when our boy started to fall behind. Slade: No problem, colleague. Maddie: ? Danny: Kind uncle is also a hunter. Maddie: Oh, that's great! Em, sorry, but is there any chance that you have a time to look after our boy for a few days? We'll pay you well. You see, he rarely trusts people so quickly, and we absolutely do not have time to look for a replacement for our old nanny, and we really need to complete the last project as soon as possible.

Looking at the giggling boy trying to see if there are any other interesting things on him, Wilson decides that this will not be a bad experience in case he decides to establish a relationship with his found daughter.

Slade: All right, I'll take your order.

~~~About ten years later~~~

Danny, who is much more familiar with death than in canon, after being freshly ghosted: Damn, nanny will be so mad at me.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey, Slade. Do you want me to show you something cool? Slade: Not now, kid, nanny is cleaning up. Danny: Yeah, about that. *makes a corpse go through the ground* Ta-da! Can we talk now? Slade at the first second: *Surprised Pikachu face*. Slade when he notices a strange glow around Danny, like from ectoplasm in the lab of the boy's parents: >:( … >:( … >:( Danny: S-stop it!

~~~~~ Slade: And take out the bloodstains from those shirts too, they're my favorites. Danny: Oh dude, have you heard that child labor is illegal? Slade: Whoever doesn't help uncle Slade doesn't get a new knife for Christmas. Danny: Pfff…Now I'm my own weapon, come up with something new or I'll find myself a cooler mentor. Slade: Jackanapes!

~~~~~

When Wilson stumbles upon a distraught runaway Robin, he sincerely tries to take care of him as well as he took care of Danny. Deathstroke is an experienced babysitter, so there shouldn't be any problems with vigilante child being around on his missions. All children love knives, workouts and guns, right? Plus, staying alone when they are upset, as Jazz says, is unhealthy.

~~~~A few days later~~~~

Dick's thoughts: He wants to make me his evil sidekick, oh no! Wilson's thoughts: What's wrong with this kid? Batman so fucked up? Wayne needs to be stripped of his parental rights. I'm calling Jazz.

~~~~~

Wilson, who does not understand that he has been hanging out with Fentons too long, looks with perplexity at Grayson, who's running away from flying pieces of Maddie's pizza, then shoots some pepperoni and sits down at the table. It's going to be a long way. Poor boy.

~~~~~

Meanwhile, Fenton family is visiting Masters for the first time. Vlad tries to flirt with Maddie and then pretends to be good-natured while getting to know Danny.

Danny: I know 54 ways to kill you with this fork. If I were you I think I'd watch my mouth. Jack: He's joking, V-man. Danny: I'm not. Jack: He's just like his babysitter. They have such an unusual sense of humor. I think our boy really likes you! Usually Danny is too shy to talk like this with strangers. Vlad: Babysitter? Maddie: Yes, Mr. Wilson helped us out a lot and often did not even take payment. He's an angel. Vlad: I think I've heard that name somewhere before... Jack: Ugh, I want to introduce you anyway! Danny: Me too. Jack: Great. What about Wednesday? Danny: Dad, uncle might be busy. Let me ask him when he has time to, um, pay your old friend a visit.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Cyberpunk Mercenary

A ruthless mercenary and you, his spoilt little catch.

Mercenaries have a reputation for being mad dogs, so pumped up with biochem they can't even think straight. And Yandere! Mercenary is no exception.

Yandere! Mercenary doesn't care who's paying him, as long as he gets paid. He's put down rebels on Titan and toppled governments on Europa - the flags they fly don't mean a damn thing to him.

Yandere! Mercenary who's spent his whole life fighting. Who dreams of gunfire and chemical weapons and burning up in the atmosphere.

Yandere! Mercenary who rolls his eyes when he gets offered his latest job. Kidnap some rich kid and hold her hostage? Talk about easy money. Hell, he can get the job done and still have time for a drink.

Yandere! Mercenary with his prosthetic arm and cybernetic implants. With his lip piercings and neon mohawk. With his bloodstained teeth and sleepless nights.

Yandere! Mercenary who finds you easy enough. Out on a shopping spree in some fancy boutique. Like you don't own enough shit already.

Yandere! Mercenary who almost scoffs when he sees you. You're everything he isn't. Wearing some pretty pastel outfit straight off the runway, your hair dyed so subtly that he knows it must have cost a fortune.

Weak, spoiled little Earthling.

Yandere! Mercenary who follows you down to the parking garage and shoots your bodyguards full of tranq. Non-lethal, his contractor demanded.

Yandere! Mercenary who grabs the back of your neck when you try to run and slams you into your hovocraft. Your shopping scattered all over the floor and trampled under his combat boots.

Yandere! Mercenary who laughs at the way you claw and scratch at him. Normal nails and not titanium claws? What are you gonna do with those, sweetheart? Tickle him?

Yandere! Mercenary who throws you in the back of his hovocraft and hightails it out of there. Shit, this was easier than he expected.

Yandere! Mercenary who ignores all the threats you spit at him. He doesn't give a damn who your mother is or how rich your daddy is. He doesn't care how many people they send after you. He's getting this job done and getting paid and that's all that matters.

Yandere! Mercenary who realises he should have listened when the first team of guards show up. They almost blast him out of the sky and it's only his quick thinking that gets him out of there.

Yandere! Mercenary who swears as he hauls you out of his wrecked craft and through the neon soaked streets of the slum district.

Yandere! Mercenary who grabs your shoulders and shakes you like a rag doll until you confess that you have a tracker in your neck.

Yandere! Mercenary who pins you against the wall and grabs the knife strapped to his leg. Who wraps his hand around your thigh and pulls your leg around his waist so you have no choice but to press against the concrete.

Yandere! Mercenary who carefully cuts the tracker out of your neck.

Yandere! Mercenary who mockingly apologises when you flinch.

Yandere! Mercenary who licks the cut he left behind. Who sucks at the blood until you stop bleeding. Who trails his lips up your neck before pulling away.

Yandere! Mercenary who's titanium teeth glint red when he grins at you.

"Look at that blush. Did ya like that, pretty thing?"

Yandere! Mercenary who loves the dazed, bashful look on your face. Billionaire princess getting all hung up on herself cause of him? Ain't that a sweet piece of irony.

Yandere! Mercenary who stashes you away in a safehouse while he waits for his boss to contact him. Who realises he was wrong about you. Spoilt, yes. Arrogant, yes. But innocent too. Naive.

Yandere! Mercenary who spends hours telling you stories about the colonies he's visited. And you sit engrossed, eating it all up like you've never heard anything so fascinating, instant ramen bowls scattered across the shitty linoleum.

Yandere! Mercenary who watches your fear of him fade a little with each passing hour. Oh, he still frightens you. But your curiosity outweighs that fear.

Yandere! Mercenary who takes every opportunity to touch you, to reach over you. Who loves the nervous little glances you aim at him, the way you blush when he catches you staring.

Cute. And tempting too.

How long has it been since he's had a woman? Yandere! Mercenary who looks at you and wants to sink his teeth in.

Yandere! Mercenary who catches his breath when you grab his hand and ask to go with him.

"Please," you beg. "I want to see the galaxy."

Yandere! Mercenary who knows that he scares you. He ain't easy on the eyes and anyone with sense can see the notched dog tag he wears - one scratch for every kill.

So why the hell are you asking him to run away with you?

Yandere! Mercenary who finally realises the gold you wear is nothing more than a collar and chains. You're a pretty bird in a gilded cage.

Yandere! Mercenary who, for the first time in his career, decides to run out on a job. Who chooses you over profit.

Yandere! Mercenary who grins down at you as he straps you into the copilot seat of a stolen space cruiser. Nervous and innocent and all his to corrupt.

Sure, he'll show you the galaxy. He'll show you the whole damn universe. All from the comfort of his bed.

[cherie-doll]

I said "do you think you'll kill for me one day?"

(Yes, of course I will, my darling)

― yandere!cod men x reader ― ε price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, makarov, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto з suggestive?

꒰ ͜ ‿ ͜ ♡ ͜ ‿ ͜ ꒱

ଘ You're no plaything for Price. He doesn't just like you, he adores you. Cups your pretty face in his hands; delicately. His rugged and rough hands become gentle as soon as he comes into contact with your skin, treating it as if it were finely-grained porcelain. He treats you the exact opposite of how he treats anyone else. Whilst he leaves everyone else covered from head to toe in blood for coming near you, you're covered from head to toe in the most expensive items you wish for. But, he doesn't want you to forget that his money doesn't represent his love for you, it does not begin to cover not even half of what it should. He'll be sure to remind you not to be spoiled rotten. He's fond of you and while he's interested in you, you should listen and obey to what he advices you. He is more experienced after all.

ଘ Compare what Simon's scars and bruises are to your unscathed body. Let his hands roam over your body, taking in all he works for. Let them wander and familiarize with what he's toying with. His breath on your skin as it quickens, losing his train of thoughts as he fondles you. He's convinced you're meant only for him. No one else should touch you this way, no one could do it like he does. And please return it! Cradle his head in your lap, so the sizzling subsides and he feels alive. Let him know he's the best, the one. Let him lean in and capture those soft, plump lips in a passionate kiss. Don't pull away, don't deny him his heaven. And don't you dare let anyone else trail your body with their eyes like he does. Why, he'll feel as if they're already doing what their mind desires. He's screwed up in his mind but he'll move heaven and earth for those thighs to wrap around his waist at night spilling the warmth between them. Make him feel warm and welcome, give him the world he burns everyone else for. He sacrifices others at the feet of your altar.

ଘ Johnny's smug smile can fade rather quickly with one sensual move from you, watch him get lost as his breath is winded and his body is overtaken with an all-consuming fire of passion. Oh, he can't even fathom the idea of anyone before or after him experiencing such things. He'll be paralyzed the moment you sit on his lap and putting your hand to his chest, let it trail over his heart which at the moment beats wildly. It's a sensation he experiences when plunging a knife deep within someone else's chest, he reckons the feeling is almost the same. He thinks his victims rather lucky they die this way. How many other people can experience that fleeting, overwhelming feeling?

ଘ Kyle's hand kisses are done with such reverent trembling and respect that he'll have your skin tingling with warm sensations as if the late evening sun was seeping into your skin. Let his and your body blend together like the watercolors on an artist's canvas does. Bask in his affection like you'll sunbathe on the beach. Take in all the good he brings you, accept every touch of his that starts with a secure embrace and ends with the colliding of your bodies. The cold with which he lashes out for others has no place with the gentleness he entreats you with. Keep your eyes on his, locked in his steady gaze immerses himself in fantasies. He feels dizzy as if his world was spinning, losing himself in the sensations. And after the elation, let him shower you in praises, caresses and gifts. Let him buy you two rings for each finger, how many could you want to show off having a caring partner when you slide his card at the register? Make your hands look pretty whilst his are leaving a trail of crimson blood after him.

ଘ Roach couldn't ever hurt anyone else, he didn't know what he was capable of until the importance of you came all too clear. You're something that shouldn't belong to anyone else in the world. It's a quick descent down the spiral of violent devotion. His soft gaze usually filled with admiration and sentiment for you hardens, his pupils dilating as fear takes over. He's only acting on behalf of all his anguish, you haven't the heart to condemn him. He's shown you what your heart is worth, couldn't you give him some sort of heaven? He will do very well at whatever it is you ask of him, just wait while he shows you. There isn't anyone else like him he says over and over as if a prayer or spell he could make come true.

ଘ Makarov does not care whether he deserves you or not. Unlike the others who will commit unspeakable acts out of guilt and use their "pure" intentions to purify their actions, Makarov is selfish and relentless in what he wants. He does not flinch at your attempts of control, it's lost the moment he takes you in. He's determined to taste everything you have to offer, whether it's willingly or not. But he does like things to be served on a platter for him, he also has no problem taking it himself. Let the hand on the back of your neck guide you in the direction you are to walk, be docile and you'll surely receive tenderness. He can never deny that he loves the way your lashes flutter as you look through them up at him as he pats your head for being so good. Overtime you might notice small details showing his exterior cracking and revealing the soft, white underbelly of affection. He feels as if his chest caves in from your actions, the subtle red at the tip of his ears. Keep pulling at his neck collar, he'll like that fake sense of control you have.

ଘ You wouldn't ever catch a glimpse of Alejandro's manipulative strategies until he finds someone threatening. Is it wrong you're not seeing enough of other people? His biggest fear is you falling for someone else, the danger of you getting too close to someone is palpable for him. The intimacy you two share is from the harvest he's worked so hard for. He's been slaving away for so long to just let someone else lay a hand on you. He kneads you into what he desires, anything to feel the beating heart in your chest which pumps only for him. He'll keep polishing you until he gets down to the bare essence of you, which he can only dream to capture. The rhythm he wants to feel rushing through his veins, circling throughout his body.

ଘ Rudy's tenderness blinds you as he takes you to what you can only describe to be paradise. With the shining of luxury, all new and just for you he says. He'll press a million sweet kisses on your face before dropping that a most bothersome person will no longer be graced by your presence ever again. To him it's like a quiet act of love, to you, it's unimaginable. Don't worry your head will all the details, isn't it better to have no worries? He's all smooth indulgence telling you to keep looking at the adorned future he has ahead for you, telling you not to pay attention to the blood that stains the walls of the hallways you walk. He would lay out a new, fancy red carpet over the corpses for you to step over and continue in this fabricated dream.

ଘ Phillip knows exactly how to get the best out of you. Can you blame a man for knowing how to get what he wants from you? Let him tease and tug for he knows what every maneuver of his does. The hands that massage your skin don't get dirty, he'll always have others ready and willing to carry out whatever order he gives. It's what he's accustomed to and how he intends to keep it. But the droplets of blood that splatter do not miss his skin. The stain is still there, still under the skin of the thumb he pushes inside of you, feeling around for that bliss. Let his protectiveness clothe your body, he's already blurring the lines between obsessiveness and possessiveness.

ଘ Keegan's eyes will have you coming to a stumbling halt. Asking for something only you know how to give so good. Those erratic eyes that are unpredictable as they are deep, representing the deep dive you have to be holding your breath for. Are you ready to indulge? Because the impact will have you gasping for air, and when you try to take one you'll only swallow a mouthful of carnal desire. He ignites such a heat it's scalding to the touch, you don't know what's happening it's like you lose control. It happens so fast that when it's all over you'll let his lips, from which hot breaths slip through, kiss all over your sweat glistened body. His eyes might be softer and hold it for a while until he's back to the merciless, cold gaze which freezes everyone's else blood, feeling it lump within their veins.

ଘ Let König go on his fast rampages. They're over quick anyways. And afterwards, when he comes back, cradle his head between your thighs his tongue tangling as he stutters out promises to buy you what you wish if only you let him lap at your sweetness until his thoughts are left to reckless abandonment. Let him get what he can't get anywhere else. Call him handsome as your bury your fingers into his hair, your fingertips trailing his jaw and down his neck to where his adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard. Place kisses on his cheek until he turns his head in one swift motion and captures your lips in a desperate kiss. He wants it all, wants all of you all at once it makes him messy, shaky and weak. But he just wants someone to hold him, rubbing his ears and whispering words of affirmation in his ear.

ଘ Horangi could care less what other's want from him. You're in his viewpoint and he's determined to apply as much pressure as possible to make you bend. The reason he justifies himself with is the lullaby he's lulled to sleep with. Everyone else wants something from him, why shouldn't you? Everyone else is just in the way, he says over and over again, trying to make you focus on his lips instead of the bodies on the floor. With what he's done, he expects a standing ovation from you, nothing but complete adoration and servitude. He's a man who chases after impulses, who knows how long until this candle runs out. For now, ignore the brusque hand and acknowledge the underlying intents. He'll keep this lecherous momentum going until you're feeling faint from the mere touch of his hand.

ଘ Resignation is a trait Nikto works hard to work out of you. Surely, you ought to trust him after all he's done for you. In his mind, he's dedicated such gentle caring to you, you should be grateful. Don't be afraid to take directly out of his hand, he prefers you lose that skepticism. And when you do start to gentle, oh he can never get enough of it. His fingers grazing and gliding over your body at any and every chance he can get. Let him delve deeper into you, it's only natural for him to want to know you better. Every quiver of yours, he feels through the epidermis of his skin. He just knows you that well. His jerking movements shouldn't startle you by now. Maybe if you were more open, you would be telling him what you want. Give him some sort of sign before that spark ignites an unyielding fire. Because to him, that trembling is a sign of a smoldering fierceness waiting to break through.

:¨ ·.· ¨: `· . ꔫ

[thecoochiefairy]

xxx. suguru.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.4K word count. blackfem!reader, drabble, roleplay, non-consensual consent, rough sex/rough play, dominant suguru, black woman, vaginal penetration, hair pulling, creaming, squirting, choking, knife play, oral [f] [m], praising, size kink, overstimulation, degrading, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, doggy style, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ this may not be everyone’s tea. for sure one of the hottest things i wrote in my book of eroticas. enjoy, cause i did. dedicated to my mocha, @st4rbwrry ,she asked me to do this for her once.

nasty links, ya nasty— bounce. take it like a good girl. ooh, you’re so good for me.

SCARY MOVIES WEREN’T YOUR THING. They were simply a morbid curiosity, especially in your household. Your father was an extremely Christian man, anything seemingly too creepy or Halloween affiliated was the work of the devil. A god-fearing man, yes—But nothing was more terrifying than your boyfriend. 

Suguru Getou. It was like a hushed name within the night, calling him three times like CandyMan, even a cross wouldn’t keep him away from you. You were a Christian woman as well, but not as harshly as your father. You had your own questions, moralities, beliefs. You didn’t judge anyone based on their views—you never judged him. 

Meeting him within the bookstore as you went to pick up a pink Bible, your cheeks went warm as you accidentally dropped the book in your hand on the way out—he then noticed the second one you clutched to your chest, never noticing it was a deeply egregious erotica. His tattooed hand gripped the object off of the ground, veiny and large as he handed it back to you. You were a beauty to him. 

Freckles along your cheeks, button nose and slender eyes with bohemian goddess braids, flyaways sticking to your round face. He caught sight of the golden cross that sat in between your breasts, the dark inked skull tattooed along your neck giving him whiplash. When you bent down to reach for the book, he caught back dermals just above the yoga pants you wear, long sleeve top clinging to your frame. Your voice was sweet, the blush of your cheeks delineated innocence, even if the sight of you didn’t.  You were pure to him. 

At least…he thought you were. 

You were sitting along your bed, the sheer white canopy atop of it paired with champagne lights hung all around the ceiling. Your background played SCREAM, one of your favorite horror movies that Suguru had introduced you to, as you were a little afraid to watch them by yourself—but he was busy tonight, and you figured you’d face your fears. 

Your glasses hung on the tip of your nose as you were more hyper-focused in your book, the sexual endeavors of the characters making your thighs rub together a bit, a highlighter in between your plump lips as you wanted to remember all the best parts. Your attention was pulled away as you heard rustling coming from your open window along the second floor of the house, enjoying the cool air of the night. You frown, lowering your book. You listen. 

Nothing comes in return, so you go back to your book. The rustle happens again. You narrow your eyes, standing from the bed as you go towards your window in preparation to just close it. That’s when a knock comes on your door, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You were always jumpy.

You go towards the door, tightening the robe you wear, pushing your glasses upon your nose as you open it. It’s your father. 

Giving him a warm smile, you greet, “Hi, Daddy. All packed up for your trip?”

“Yup. All packed up and ready to go, sweetie. Did you remember everything?”

A gentle yet stern tone comes from him. One you were used to hearing by now. The tall, strong yet slender man gave a soft smile before speaking once more.

“You’ all right? You seem a bit startled.”

You sigh, “Been watching scary movies again—it’s only the first ten minutes where the girl gets a weird phone call. I thought I could handle watching it alone—unfortunately, I’m a wuss. Are you heading out to the airport now?”

Your father let out a soft chuckle.The first ten minutes always got to you somehow. To his dismay, this was why you had Suguru at your side to comfort you when you needed it. But he wasn’t here tonight.

“I’m about to head out now. I was hoping I would be able to see you one more time before I get on the plane.”

“You’re such a big teddy bear,” you poke fun, “I’ll walk you to the door,” you offer, pushing on your bunny slippers as you follow behind him downstairs. You lived in a big house, taking ages to get anywhere whether it was a bedroom or bathroom.

The man rolled his eyes though he couldn’t help a soft smile, amused from the way you teased him. He loved you, all too much. 

Once you both get downstairs, you go to the front door where your father picks up his bags and checks to see if he had everything. He spoke again, a frown appearing once more.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright in the house by yourself? I know you’re not always fond of being alone at night.”

“I think I’ll survive,” you give him a warm smile, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sigh, “I love you, okay? Be safe.”

He wraps his strong arms around your frame, hugging you close to his form as he kisses your forehead. He loved you more than words could describe. You were his little girl, after all.

“I love you too. I’ll call you once I get to the hotel, alright?”

You give him a final wave as he makes it out to his taxi, blowing a kiss as the vehicle pulls off. You were relieved to get some alone time, and now you could fully dive into your book. You search the pantry as you grab for your sour gummy bears, plopping one into your mouth as you make your way back upstairs. You could hear the sound of screams, knowing the movie was still faintly playing on your TV. But as you enter your bedroom, you notice something. 

Your window was…closed?

You frown. You were certain that you had left the window open, but yet, it was closed. You shake your head, telling yourself that it was nothing and you’d forgotten to close it. 

You release a breath as you mutter, “Girl. Don’t be scaring yourself now.”

With that, you decide to cut off the movie, turning on some soothing music to calm your nerves. You return to your bed soon after, setting your gummy bears down beside you. You’re back to reading—but you can’t shake the raised awareness in the back of your mind.

As you continue to read, you can hear the house's landline going off downstairs. You sigh, pausing your music. You’re quickly making your way downstairs before the call hangs up, pulling the phone to your ear as you speak, “Hello?”

You expected it to be your father, telling you that he had left something behind, or maybe a friend of yours. It would’ve been normal for either. However, you were only greeted with silence for a moment.

But then, you soon hear the sound of a deep voice, an…unfamiliar tone.

“Hello, ❤︎.”

You blink at the voice knowing your name, placing your hand along the table as you speak, “Um—hi. Who is this?”

The voice was deep and alluring. But that didn’t make his familiarity any less uncomfortable. It’s a tone you’ve never heard. It sent chills down your spine.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that. Let’s keep that a secret for now.”

“Well if it’s a secret, then we don’t need to be talking,” you say, quickly hanging up the phone. 

You frown, wondering if you should call your father. Or Suguru. You didn’t want to worry him as he was on the way to the airport, and his flight would be soon. On top of that, your boyfriend was at work. You decide on grabbing a bottle of water, going to make your way back upstairs—

But that’s when the phone rings again.

Your breathing picks up a little. No, you shouldn’t answer it. You hope it’s a simple prank. Your mind goes back to the movie earlier. You should just ignore the call, or maybe you’re just scaring yourself over something so simple. 

You take the phone back into your hand, answering as you say, “Hello?” More impatient this time. 

Once again, the same deep voice is heard on the other line, though the tone had a hint of annoyance. You could practically feel a sinister smile through the phone.

“Why so impatient now, sweetheart?”

His tone was taunting, almost as if they were making fun of you. It was starting to get under your skin.

“Because you’re playing on my phone. Who is this?” You question again, eyes warily looking around your kitchen. You then make your way over to your front door, unlocking and relocking it for your own security.

There’s a soft, airy chuckle that comes before the voice replies, his tone still playful. Like this was some sort of game to him.

“You’re awfully stubborn, aren’t you? Do you always have this much trouble listening?”

The line goes silent for a moment, though you can still hear faint breaths. Chills run over your body again. You could feel eyes on you. Like someone was watching you at this very moment.

You grip the phone tighter in your hand. You then say, “Suguru, I know this is you. Quit fucking with me because I told you what I was watching earlier. It’s not funny.”

“It’s unfortunate for you that I’m not your boyfriend.” 

It’s like all the small hairs on your body prick up. Your heart begins to stammer in your chest, your eyes blinking. You feel like you’re in a dream.

“…What?”

The tone is no longer playful, instead becoming more…disturbing. But, there’s also a hint of amusement. Like they’re enjoying this. Enjoying you getting frightened.

“I said— I’m not your boyfriend.”

A pause, your heart beating faster. All of this felt so… wrong. Then, the voice continues—

“Though, I wish I was. You look good as fuck in that robe.”

That sentence was chilling. Your entire body went cold, and you felt frozen in your spot. You joked about watching this type of situation in the media. What you would do, how you’d never be as stupid as the character in this scenario. But here you were, unable to move, your heart pounding in your chest.

The voice on the other line chuckles again, his walk heavy as you can hear his steps. Though, he can’t help but become intrigued that he had struck such a nerve in you. You were such a…fascinating little thing. He knew you were shaking.

“Now tell me, ❤︎. Did locking your door make you feel safe?”

You didn’t know if anymore fear could strike through your veins, but you felt paralyzed.

 You try to keep yourself calm as you lie, “My boyfriends gonna be here soon. So I suggest you get the fuck off of my property before he kills you.”

“I don’t like being lied to.” 

The line goes silent again, but your heart still pounds in your chest. Where could he be at this very moment?

“My next suggestion would be that if you’re gonna lock your door…at least check if your window was actually closed.”

From your eyesight, you can see your bedroom. But you can only see the light coming from it, and your heart stops. You don’t have time to be afraid. You just needed to leave.

You slowly back your way towards your front door, continuously watching the outline of your bedroom, as if you were just waiting to see a figure pop out. As soon as your hand reaches the lock, you slowly turn it, reaching for the handle. 

The sound of your window within your room slams shut.

You yank the front door open, going to make a desperate run for the neighbors—

But that’s when a figure is already in front of the door, and as you trip back, you freeze.

A GhostFace mask appears in your sight, the person wearing it tall, broad. The dark shirt clinging to his olive complexion, tattoos scathing along his large arms, holding a chrome Bowie knife. 

Your scream pierces through the door frame as your instincts make you step back, thinking quickly as you take off back into your house.

Letting out a chuckle at your attempt to escape, he steps into the doorway, slamming the door closed as you try to run off. His footsteps were loud and heavy, like he was taking his sweet time, knowing that you were only tiring yourself further.

You eventually find yourself ducking into the next hallway, finding yourself in your father’s cigar room. You find the closet within it, rushing inside as you close the door, holding it towards yourself. Tears want to brim your eyes as your entire body vibrates from the fear, and you clutch your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from crying, hearing as his footsteps become closer.

Your breathing goes ragged and labored, your chest tightening as you try your best to muffle the sound of your hyperventilating. You then hear the footsteps get closer and closer. That’s when they stop right outside of the closet.

At this moment, you stop breathing. You close your eyes, awaiting for the next few moments. Nothing.

Instead, you hear the footsteps begin to echo away, up until you don’t hear them at all. You wait for a moment, wishing you had a phone to call someone. Anyone. But you couldn’t stay in this closet forever.

This was your opportunity to escape. You give it a couple more seconds as you gently push the door open, sliding yourself through the small opening to not cause any noise. You peek down the hallway, seeing nothing again. Yet you hear the sound of footsteps from above, meaning he was checking to see if you’d hidden yourself upstairs. 

You bolt down the hallway and back towards your front door, going to throw it open as you see that large, veiny palm raise over your head, slamming the door shut. Your scream rips from your throat, ducking under the figure, trapped as their hand clasps along your throat, thumb along your jaw.

 All you can see is that mask, your eyes wide as they lock down to the blade coming at your throat, lightly connecting to the skin of it.

He was much bigger than you, broad with a toned muscular body. He could easily have you in a death grip if he wanted. You could feel his hot breath coming from under the mask, staring down at you.

“Please don’t hurt me…” you’re desperate, unable to know what else to say at this moment.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, though he can’t help a soft laugh as he’s just realized something. And it makes him…furious. But he keeps his cool, tightening his grip on you ever so slightly.

Leaning down, he brings his covered face so close to your ear that it makes your skin tingle. He speaks in a low tone. It’s almost a growl.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t lie…” you say, “…I don’t know what you’re talking about…” your eyes roam back and forth, hand pressed along his stomach. It’s hard.

His frame is solid, all muscle and toned. He doesn’t buy your excuse for a second. But he continues to take you in. Your face, your body. Your scent. It’s a mixture of amber and vanilla. He could feel how you trembled in his grip, though a part of him wished he was gripping by your chin, making you look him in the eye. But he was enjoying this. The fear on your face.

“You told me your boyfriend was coming.”

Shit, you did say that. 

You can’t come up with a quick enough excuse. You say, “I’m sorry.”

“You will be.”

He has a grip on your wrist, dragging you up the stairs as you try to pull away, yet the knife in his other hand keeps you from fighting more than you wanted to. He slams the door of your bedroom, your fearful frame stepping back as you’re trapped inside with him, glancing back over to your window.

At this moment, he has you trapped alone in your bedroom with no one to help you. Yet, you could see his eyes studying you through the mask. Taking in every slight movement of your body. Every shake, every shiver. He was enjoying the sight of you being afraid. It was thrilling.

It felt stupid to plead your case. But you didn’t know what to do. Your brain runs amuck, and you can’t stop yourself as you stupidly say—

“Please don’t hurt me,” you repeat, “I’ll do…I’ll do anything.”

He can’t help the wicked smirk that appears across his features under the mask as he tilts his head, taking a single step closer to you. Like a predator closing in on its prey. The way his eyes remained on you was entrancing. 

“Anything?” 

He repeats, his voice deep.

You clutch the material of your robe, nodding your head in response, your heart in your throat. 

It’s like you’re trying to play detective, eyeing his tattoos, his muscular arms, trying to find a familiarity in his body. Nothing. His onyx shirt clings to him, which almost curves inwards from how fit he was. His ring clad fingers, veins traveling beneath as he clutched his weapon within his hand. A rush of…something else ran within your body. 

What was wrong with you? 

Yet, your fuzzy brain is pulled out of the clouds as you hear his low tone tell you to, “Take off your robe.” 

You blink for a moment. You then give a soft nod, beginning to untie your robe, draping it off your shoulders, dropping it down along the floor. The air in the room hits your skin, the pale pink babydoll slip you wore, your brown nipples showing through the thin fabric. The sheer material glides down to the thong you wear, barely covering your ass, the small bow within the back attached to the lingerie. 

Your body is revealed to him, his eyes gazing over your figure. Yet, he remains still. Though, you can see the rise and fall of his chest become slightly quicker. He just didn’t move, his expression almost unreadable behind the hard, white mask. Silence, all apart from the hammering of the heart that was stuck in your throat.

You can then hear him say, “On your knees. Crawl.” 

And so, you listen. Your palms lead the way, your legs slightly dragging against the carpet as you make your way over to him, slender eyes feline, coaxing. You don’t know why you have the urge to give him a show, but you pause when you’re directly in front of him, politely sitting on the balls of your feet, knees pointed to the floor. 

He towers over you, his large frame making you look so… tiny. Yet, he can’t help but become impressed at the way you had obeyed his request. His dark eyes don’t remove themselves from you for a single moment. Like he’s studying every movement you make.

He was being far gentler than what you expect. He tilts your head by the point of his knife, forcing you to look up at him as he looks down at you through that damn mask.

“You listen good as fuck, pretty.” 

Your eyes blink at him, palms itching along your lap. He then takes his other hand as he runs it through your hair, lightly, as if you were delicate to the touch. Your body tenses as he then gets a grip on your hair, clutching the braids in between his fingers, tugging your head back to fully look at him. 

And he likes it. He likes how you look right now. Your head pulled back, looking up at him. It’s like you were at his mercy. Like you were completely and utterly at his whim. Just how he wanted you.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Another slow flutter of your lashes surpass, and you part your Cupid’s bow lips, sticking your tongue out in the process. 

A sinful grin makes its way across his face, even if you can’t tell. 

He moves the knife's blade to your chin, tipping your jaw a little more up to see you better. His voice is still low as he tells you, “Wider.”

You open your mouth even more, breath hitching as you do so. Your eyes can only search the terrifying white expression, but when you glance down, his body…terrifying wasn’t the exact word you’d use. 

He’s enjoying the way you’re submitting to him. It’s like something within him had woken up. You can see the rise and fall of his chest again, his breathing having picked up slightly. Like it was arousing him. 

“All that fuckin’ mouth you had over the phone. Where’s that shit at now?” 

You lightly dig your teeth into your lip, the tone of his voice through this mask. It’s doing something to you. You’re crazy. But this entire situation is.

Your voice is soft, your own words passing through your mouth before you could think about them.  

“Put something in it, then.”

His fingers come along the side of your jaw, his thumb running over your lip, sliding against your tongue. 

“You’ want it in your mouth?”

You nod your head, eyes glimmering beneath the lights of your room. 

“Suck some fuckin’ dick, then.”

You’re already unbuckling his belt, reaching under his boxers as you pull his length from beneath the compressing fabric. It springs out as it’s already hard, pink tip glistening from the pre-cum, slapping along his belly button in freedom. 

The veins along it make it look terrifying, heavy in your palms as you lean forward, taking in the scent of rum spice and cedar wood against his smooth skin. The olive tone of his complexion is covered by ink, even in the most intimate areas. You drag your tongue along his tip, raising your eyes up, lash extensions flickering like dark butterflies.

You can hear the grunt that comes from his mouth, tugging at your hair as you fully wrap your lips along his tip, swirling your tongue around, enveloping the clean taste of his flesh. You adjust yourself along your knees, arching yourself closer to him, moving your head slowly back and forth, allowing your mouth to collect more inches each time you take him deeper. His tip begins to caress against the roof of your mouth each time you move.

The warm walls of your cheeks hollow his dick, entrapping the heaviness of it as you moan softly, eyes fluttering shut as you wrap your small fingers along the base of him, rotating your palm around. Pulling his tip out of your mouth you then drop spit along the veiny flesh, beginning to revolve your hand around, almond brown vision flickering back up to the mask, your other hand running under his shirt, feeling the way his muscles flex within his abdomen.

His hand grips tighter in your hair, pulling you closer to him as you stroke faster. He lets out a low groan, hips bucking slightly, grinding his dick between your lips and hand. You can feel his pulse beating against your fingertips, throbbing with every pass through. He pulls your head back, smearing saliva across your jaw before shoving his tip back into your mouth, sliding all the way to the back of your throat. Your head nuzzles side to side, allowing it to shuffle even deeper, the walls of your throat flexing as you gag.

 You hear his deep voice lowly drop, ”Fuuck...”

You pull your mouth back, cheeks warm on the outside, freckled and lightly hueing a red tint as you softly ask, “Does it feel good?” Slapping his dick along your tongue, kissing the tip in an almost polite way.

“Feels good as fuck,” He grunts, grabbing your chin firmly and tilting your head back, exposing your neck to him. "You’re so fuckin’ sexy. Pull your tit’s out. Go down until you’re rubbing your pussy, I know this shit’ is making you wet.”

He was right, it was. Each time his tip slammed against the back of your throat, your inner thighs became warm as you rubbed them together. You yank down the material of your babydoll slip, exposing your brown nipples, using one hand to lightly rub at the hardening skin, using the other to hold his dick in your hand, dragging your mouth back around the shaft of it. He twitches in your mouth as you start to suckle, slurping heavily, saliva spurting in between the space of your lips each time his balls slam along your jaw. He keeps a grip on your onyx hair tighter—you’re nasty with it, guiding your head up and down erotically.

You then slide your hands down your stomach and thigh, coming around to meet with the inner part of it, brushing your fingers against your clit that throbs along your thong. It almost makes you flinch.

He watches you with lust-filled eyes, the ghost mask seeming to leer as you touch yourself. He feels as you tense up, “Be a big fuckin’ girl and make yourself feel good.” 

He guides your head faster, thrusting into your mouth with increasing force. His balls begin to slap loudly against your chin, precum leaking from the tip to coat your tongue.

“Call me baby,” you protest as you find the space to pull away, immediately going back to keeping your mouth full. You almost break, your voice feeble as you talk, “Want your fingers. Wanna squirt on them…” you can’t stop whining to him, moving your head back and forth, faster to meet the mean pace he gives.

“I know you fuckin’ heard what I said. Sink your fingers in,” he grunts to you, feeling the whimper around his dick, your fingers listening as you drag them down, nudging them at your opening. You can hear how wet you are, but your own aren’t enough. You need more. 

Your other hand is still locked around him, keeping your mouth steady as he has one hand on the back of your head, the other on your jaw, pulling it open wider as he fucks your face. 

“That’s fuckin’ good, baby. Listening good as fuck.”

You become frustrated as you pull back, pouting to him, “I can’t make myself cum…” 

You spit against his tip, now focusing in as it seems to be sensitive. You protect your teeth with your lips, sucking inward as you bob your head up and down, using your throat as you muffle out hums to add to his stimulation, talented in pleasuring him. 

He groans deeply, feeling your tongue continuously swirling around the tip, sending jolts straight to his entire body. 

“Fuck,” he aggressively grunts, “Ooh, shit. Baby. Keep doing that," he growls, his hips jerking slightly as he loses control for a second, pushing deeper into your mouth. "Gonna fill that pretty ass throat up."

That’s when you become more defiant—The pressure in between your legs is almost painful. You need him. You pull yourself back, placing yourself along the bed, spreading your knees apart, arching your back as you press your stomach against the sheets. Your face is tilted backwards to watch him, taking your hands as you spread yourself apart.

“Fill up my pussy, baby,” you whine, pitiful, but you didn’t care.

His eyes darkened with lust as he saw you spread yourself open for him, your juices dripping onto the sheets below. You’re grinding your clit against the pink comforter, making it a darker shade as it becomes drenched. He stalks towards the bed, fully ripping off his clothes in haste, dragging you fully to the end of the bed as his palms locked around your ankles. 

"Shit, look at that pretty ass pussy," he mutters, his gaze fixated on your glistening folds, “You want my cum, huh? Beg for it."

His words are demanding, but there's an underlying tone of pleasure and desire. He's eager to claim you.

But you’re even more eager.

 You grip his arm, pulling him down to where his back is along the sheets, climbing atop of him. You don’t forget to lock your mouth around his tip for a moment, dropping your lips down to reach his abdomen, saliva dragging out of your mouth, dribbling along your chin as you pull back, seeing as his abs tighten, giggling as that makes him give you a harsh spank to your ass. 

Your knees are on each side of him, already wrapping your fingers around his tip, guiding it as you rub it along your clit. 

You whimper, “Wanna slide down on your dick, baby. Tell me I can…”

“Go ‘head. Drop down, slowly.” 

You do as you're told, placing your hand along his stomach as you lean forward, sinking yourself down, his tip plunging in between your tight folds. He was like a monster, attempting to rip you in half. Your eyes lightly roll, your hips spazzing at the feeling. A baby gasp parts from your mouth as he roughly spanks you again, coaxing you to keep going. You sink yourself down farther, the heaviness of your ass sticking against his abdomen, his tip already kissing your cervix, it makes your face contort in an aching pleasure, so fucking horny as you already begin bouncing on him, your pussy squelching as you whimper from the slight pain.

It was like a soreness from a workout, a burn from a meal you couldn’t wait to cool down, you whine messily as you drive yourself wild, clapping your ass down against his thighs.

His eyes follow every movement of your hips, drinking in the sight of your ass slapping against his thighs. The lewd sounds of flesh meeting flesh fill the room, mingling with your desperate moans of pleasure. He grips your hips tightly, fingers digging around into the soft flesh of your ass as he begins dragging you to meet your own downward motions.

"Yeah? You’ gonna keep fucking me like that? Like you needed this fuckin’ dick?”

You’re looking back as the skin of your ass shaking in his palms, sobbing already, eyes rolling back as you pout heavily, nodding your head as it falls back, whimpering out messily, “Yes, baby. Been wanting to bounce on your dick just like this…” 

You hiccup, your soft cry echoing along the walls, louder than your skin slapping against his, “So fuckin’ needy for you…”

His thumbs dig deeper into the supple cheeks of your skin, spreading them apart slightly as he watches himself disappear into you over and over.

"Pussy hungry as fuck, sucking my shit in…” He growls low in his throat, the vibrations sending tingles up your spine. 

"Keep going, needy ass fuckin’ girl—fuck,” he lowly moans, head falling back against the bed, mask tilting upwards. His hands move to grip your waist, helping pull you down onto him with force, his thick shaft stretching you impossibly wide. The sensation borders on painful, but the pleasure far outweighs it, making you pathetically cry out in ecstasy.

With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into you hard, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arches, a sharp cry escaping your lips at the sudden depth. He holds you there, still and deep, letting you adjust to the overwhelming fullness before starting to move once more. His hand is on your shoulder, slamming you back down, sounds erotically implausible. 

"You love this, don't you?" He growls, voice strained with pleasure. "Love being stuffed full of my dick,” His hands slide up your sides, fingers splaying across your ribs as he begins to piston in and out of you with relentless intensity.

He’s like a demon climbing out of hell for the first time. You keep up with him though, keeping your eyes locked on his as you groan, “Love it so fuckin’ much. Gonna’ cum in my tight pussy, baby?” You can hear the grunt he makes from that question, planting your feet along the bed as you raise your hips, dropping them down, “Hit my spot, baby. Wanna squirt all in your mouth soon.”

His grunts deepen into animalistic growls, the force of his thrusts growing harder, faster, more erratic. Sweat drips down from under his mask, tattooed muscles flexing beneath his skin. 

“Nasty ass fuckin’ mouth. I hear you, baby. ‘Gonna' drench me," he rasps, one hand moving between your bodies to rub at your clit in time with his strokes. 

His other hand grips your hip, using it as leverage to slam you down onto him, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with unrelenting precision. The wet squelching of your juices and the slap of skin on skin fills the air, punctuated by your high-pitched moans and his guttural sounds. He's close, you can tell, his movements becoming almost violent in their desperation.

“Fuck me from the back,” you beg, “Come fuck me, baby. That’s how I wanna cum,” you beg him, swirling your hips in circles, dragging your nails along his skin.

He flips you over onto your stomach without hesitation, looming over you with a predatory gleam in his masked gaze. One hand remains gripping your hip while the other moves around to grasp your throat, applying gentle pressure.

"You’ better be fuckin’ me back," he smacks his lips, “Keep asking for shit. Spoiled as fuck.”

With a sharp tug, he rubs his tip in between your folds, the sensitivity making you hiss a bit. But he does the opposite of what you expect, raising you up slightly to press your back against his chest, material of the mask pressed up against your face, almost to where you can feel his lips against your skin. 

You reach your hand behind yourself, holding him as he sinks himself in. You feel every inch as it goes in, sinking so deep it inflames your walls, your eyes rolling back as you gasp, “Oh, shit,” as you unexpectedly squirt, the fluid gushing out so harshly that it nearly pushes his dick out. Your thighs tremble as you shudder out in broken whines, his hand gripping tighter along your throat, hearing the arrogant chuckle in your ear.

He lets out a low, rumbling chuckle against your ear, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine even as your inner walls clench around him. His grip on your throat tightens fractionally, a subtle reminder of his dominance.

"Look at you, squirting like a fuckin’ faucet.”

You shriek as he spanks you, “So fuckin’ responsive for me. Love milking this pussy, baby. Goood fuckin’ girl,” he riles you up, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside,  slamming back in, driving deep once more, making you squirt out again.

Your hands scrabble for purchase on the sheets, reaching behind helplessly as you try to halt his hips, feeling as he yanks your hand behind your back. You plead, “W—wait, baby. Wait. Wait. Ooh, shi—oh—fuck. Fuck. Fuuuck…”

Your whine is so pretty, your body relaxing as if you’ve given up at this point, back to pouting as you can’t. Stop. Squirting. 

Tears well in your eyes, you’re crying at this point, your hips tensing, a soreness beginning to produce from your body pushing out so much energy. You’re moaning weakly as he coos behind you, “Yeah, baby. That’s good. Open up your pussy," his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I've got you."

With a sudden, brutal thrust, he buries himself inside you, grinding against your cervix. Your scream is muffled by his palm over your mouth as he holds you still, impaling you on his dick.

“Told you to fuck me back, your ass don’t fuckin’ listen,” he grunts, his hips beginning to piston in and out at a bullying pace. "Fuck, your pussy is perfect."

This is what you asked for. This is what you wanted—now you were paying for it. You’re sobbing in patterns, broken and repetitive, trapped as you can only whimper, “Please cum, baby. Cum in me. Fuckin’ fill me up, baby,” but this is your only way of escaping this depraved act.

He laughs cruelly, the sound echoing through the room as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You want my cum? Then fucking earn it, slutty ass fuckin’ girl. My slutty ass baby.” 

His grip on your throat tightens, cutting off your air supply as he fucks you even harder, each thrust jarring your entire body. The pressure builds in your core, your orgasm just out of reach.

With the last bit of strength you have, you apologize, “So sorry, baby. Didn’t listen. Lemme’ be your good girl,” as you begin to throw your ass back, slamming it along his abdomen, it’s nearly too slippery to have the skin stick together. You’ve coated him with your arousal, you have nothing left to give him, “Cum for me, baby. Cum inside me, need your cum, pretty boy…”

At your pitiful plea, he releases your throat, gripping your hips instead as he pounds into you mercilessly. His breathing grows ragged, muscles straining as he chases his release, his helpless moans are sexy, even a light whimper slipping out— it was rare for him to have. 

"Fuckin’ hell..." he grits out between clenched teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. "I’m about to bust, baby. Where you’ want it?”

“In me,” you whimper desperately, “Don’t be mean.”

The bastard. He chuckles, “Shut that shit up. I know.” 

With one final, intense thrust, his dick pulses as he unleashes a torrent of cum deep inside you. He pulls himself out to replace his dick with his fingers, rubbing chaotically in between your opening and your clit, knowing how you’d react to that. Your entire body spazzes as you shout, groaning into a scream as you gush out more cum, causing him to rip the mask off, burying his face in between your legs, lapping up the final orgasm that completely drains you. You’re crying and shaking, nearly dropping forward along the bed as he’s there to catch you. 

The familiar coconut scent of his dark hair rubs up against your cheek as he turns your face to kiss him, sloppily sinking his tongue into your mouth, allowing you to taste yourself.

“That was good, baby,” Suguru grunts, both of you breathing heavily against one another, desire and passion filling the air. 

“We need to watch scary shit more often,” he holds your throat, talking within your ear, the breathless giggle only being your response for a moment. 

“Yeah, we do.”

[eeboyysworld]

“Life’s a gamble.”

—⋆. 𐙚⋆.˚

Genre: smut

Recruiter x Male!Reader

Contains/Warnings: oral fixation , oral sex , seduction , knife play , cross dressing , bottom!reader .

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Gi-hun, the man you once called a best friend.Definitely not anymore.

The way the white plushy dress hugged your body was a constant reminder of what you had intentionally agreed to.

The way the white plushy dress hugged your body was a constant reminder of what you had intentionally agreed to.

Why were you here in the first place, sitting pretty upon a bench, legs crossed , wind making the bottom of the dress puff up daring anyone to take a peak underneath.

Well..-

“No way in hell!” Shaking your head as fast as you can possibly do, hands moving with you as your face smeared into a snarl.

Sitting across from you was a man, head in his hands, tan skin and bright red hair, easily noticed. “Please..i wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”

The tone of his voice was desperate , mixed with unusual fear.But, yet his eyes held an intensity, confident swirled inside them. Tone and eyes different from each other.

“ You want me to seduce a random man..” eye brows raised as you spoke with question, “- do you know how crazy that looks and sounds?!”

Sighing, the other didn’t speak for moments.Before standing up, briefcase suddenly in hand, the case smashing onto the wooden table placed Infront of you.

Dollar bills wrapped in bands was placed before you, the bright green was contrast next to the broken down table it sat on.

“Take it all.” Was he serious.Your face shocked, mouth open slightly, ‘ with this money I can pay more than just my rent..’ taking your eyes off the prize , locking eyes with the man. Motioning him on to continue his plea.

“Just..do this for me , please..?”

Was it the money that got you to do this , or was it your dearest friend seeking out for you in his desperate state. Possibly both.

Applying a random lipgloss, coating your lips in strawberry gloss, trying the best to look girly.

You had been here for at-least 10 minutes, waiting for the mysterious man in a suit.

You had gotten restless at this point, playing with a loose strand of your hair.

Before a voice call out to you “Ma’am?” perking up as you fix posture.

Tilting your head sideways, eyeing the man dressed in grey, hair elegantly combed back. A briefcase sat in the empty spot between you two. “ Care to play a game?”

This had to be the guy gi-hun was searching for.

Batting your eyes at him, smiling you responded. “I’ll do anything as long as you’re here.” Your hands daring to reach onto his thigh before you can think rationally.

He looked surprised, sure, he had more than a few girls alike hit on him. He kept those encounters professional, but you.. you were different than the other low life’s.

Silence passed on, feeling ashamed of yourself as seconds burned, hand slowly trying to ease away from the other.

In a fast motion, the man’s hand held onto your wrist. Lips quirked into a grin, “ You’re playing dangerous here.”

You sat there for a second too long, you didn’t expect him to play along. Snapping out of it, you couldn’t lose him now that you got him.

“We all need danger in our lives..” tongue licking across your bottom lip , exaggerating your lips to shine even more. Taking his hand into yours, intertwining together.

The man’s eyes had a glint in them, like he was pulling back his true intentions behind a facade.

“ A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out here alone.” Making eye contact as his finger trailed to your jaw. “- never know what could be lurking in the darkness..”

Heat pooled in your stomach, bringing your legs tighter together.

Pouting , remaining the act you put on despite your own nervousness. “Would you be the one lurking?” As your hand fell to your sides, his own gone before it leached on your bare thigh, the skirt ridding up, showing off the smooth skin.

Cold fingers massaging into you, his face still held onto that smirk. “ I’ll be worse than that.”

Urging yourself to lean towards him, as your lips grazed his ear , whispering your own thoughts.

“Give me the worst.”

Before you could think strategically, your own mind applying images of the possibility’s of what could happen once you allowed yourself in the other’s presence.

You found yourself sat on a cold marble counter, the man’s expensive cologne invading you, clouding any sense that can come out.

Fingers pressed into your skin, the hand making its way up, bringing it closer and closer to the truth. You weren’t a girl.

This wasn’t in the plan you and the red head had agreed to.You weren’t supposed to go to the man’s house, all you had to do was get his number.

But .. the charming guy lead you into his arms , whispering of how much fun you guys can have. How could you not melt into his embrace.

The Lacy panty’s you had on wore a wet dot, Pre-cum leaking onto the pretty pink fabric.

Warm hands hooked onto the top, yanking it down, watching as the fabric fell on the ground.

Biting down your lip, the skin chipping from the force you held on it. What will he do once he found out you were a boy.

“Oh..” his eye brows raised slightly, looking down before finding your face again. “ Full of surprises aren’t you?”

A huff left him, his mouth working its way in you, as your tongues fought for dominance.

Whimpers leaving you as he gripped your hardness, saliva linking as he pulled away, “Good thing i love surprises..”

Yanking you slightly up with your length, shriek escaping you.

The feeling of a sharp knife found itself resting on your cheek, sliding it into your skin, leaving a tiny cut that bleed.

The blade dragging it’s up to your throat. Pressing down , enough to make you regret your decision.

“ You’ll do what i say?” The cold metal pressing into you, nodding softly, answering, “Everything.”

Leaving the blade next to you, smiling at you, eyes eating the image of you.

Cooing at you, “ Got all dressed up for me..” his fingers playing with your tip, smearing itself with your mess.

The finger coated with you, bringing it to his lips.

Popping it into his mouth, you could only watch as the man indulged himself. The sound of spit as he slowly took his finger out his mouth. “Let’s hope you don’t break on me doll.”

He teased you on, frustrated as you pouted, your cock throbbed as it was battered with teasing touches.

You were used to the teasing that it was unexpected as he suddenly jerked you, the pace getting faster and faster.

Pleasure shot through you, your own fingers went to your mouth on instinct, sucking on yourself, muffling your words, “S-stop.. teasi..ing!”

Arching off the counter, clenching around nothing , “Me teasing?.. you’re the one walking around in short dresses.”

The ache in you surrounded your entire body, his hand skillfully bringing you undone.

Slobber dripped down your fingers,throwing your neck back , baring it open.

Teeth latching itself on you, biting down before sucking. As the others hand continued to simulate you.

Moans echoed around the room, twitching in his warm hand you felt yourself coming undone.

Coating yourself in his palm, the mess dripping down to the floor, ruining the white dress you wore.

It wasn’t even a minute before his hand began working you to hardness again. “A-ah.!”

“I want you to feel yourself while you suck me off.” He said it so casually, overstimulated you nod shakily.

Bare knees hit the floor, mouth wide open for him. Trying to get comfortable seemed impossible as the floor kept grazing your hard on.

The blade found itself tracing your jaw, leaving behind red marks as blood oozed out.

His heavy length nestled in you, giving it little licks, his groans urged you on. Engulfing yourself on his hard on.

The knife dropped to the ground beside you, barely missing you. His hands griping your hair, forcing you onto him. Making you grind into the floor.

Gagging, he continued to thrust in and out, the sound of wetness left you embarrassed.

“Gonna paint you with my mess-“ picking up the pace.”- look so beautiful with it.”

His scent left you dizzy, holding onto his clothed thighs to hold yourself.Swallowing around him , clenching your mouth.

Your saliva making it easy to fuck your face.Your moans vibrated around him, twitching inside you.

No warnings as he pulled out, the sound popping off as you close your eyes. The stickiness dripped down your body, ultimately ruining the pretty dress.

Coming down his high , tucking himself in his pants, leaning downward to your height.

He watched as you wipe yourself clean, licking away the saltiness on your mouth.

“Now.. care to tell me why you were trying to seduce me?”

Shit.. you are fucked.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

A/N: he’s too fine for this world

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Art the Clown x Reader SMUT • headcanons, how Art fucks, what he gets off to, etc

big content warning! contains some stuff that may gross you out; read at your own risk: menstruation kink, piss kink, oral sex, anal sex, object insertion, blood kink, various weapons mentioned, bondage, human hair and bones, butts and what comes out of butts, public sex, cockwarming, mostly dom!Art and sub!reader

🔪 Remember the work desk with all of Art’s weapons and tools on it? He knows you want him to fuck you, but he’s got shit to do (meaning weapons to build) so he lets you sit under the desk, cockwarming him while he works. You’re on the ground between his knees, patiently holding him in your mouth. When he finishes constructing his latest instrument of torture/slaughter, Art pats his palm against his thigh, wordlessly telling you to climb up into his lap and ride him.🩸

🔪 Art enjoys blood and guts, so it goes without saying that during your period, he’s particularly eager to fuck you. He can detect the slight change in your scent, usually aware you’ve begun to bleed even before you know. He plays with your pussy like it’s a new, special toy when you’re bleeding, spreading your lips and tracing his name on your inner thighs in red. Seeing/touching/tasting blood that comes from you is special to Art. It’s the only time he gets to play in blood without it being the result of him hurting someone, so that makes the experience unique for him. He saves your used pads for ‘alone time,’ using them later as a ‘sleeve,’ to masturbate with.🩸

🔪 Art sometimes fucks you with unconventional objects, like the handle of one of his weapons (knife, axe) or the neck of a bottle. If you’ve displeased him but he still wants to fuck you, he might deny you his cock and instead use something else, like the handle of one of his knives or the barrel of an (empty!) gun, to make you come instead of his cock, as a degrading ‘punishment.’🩸

🔪 Art loves bondage. He knows what he’s doing when it comes to tying knots, as evidenced by the multiple victims you’ve watched him restrain. He enjoys the power dynamic of being in absolute control of another person. When that crosses over into sex, you both get off on him tying you up and doing whatever the fuck he wants with your body.🩸

🔪 Art’s methods can border on sadistic at times (I mean how could they not??) but because he wants to keep you around to play with for the long haul, he never pushes you beyond the limits of safety, no matter how many new ways he comes up with to plug every hole in your body. If we know anything about Art, it’s that he’s perceptive. He studies the way your body responds to different forms of stimulation and mentally catalogs the information for later. All of his skill in crafting tools of torture means he’s able to create customized ‘toys,’ to fuck you with. But the thing is, they’re never normal, or sweet; they always contain something fucked-up and sick. Art once surprised you with a whip he’d put together for you. Its strands were soft and felt so good gliding over your clit. You came so hard when Art whipped your pussy till it was puffy and leaking. It would have been a wonderful gift, if you hadn’t realized later, upon closer inspection, that the strands now wet with your cum were in fact strands of human hair. And the custom dildo Art made for you, the one that was so smooth and colored beige/white? You later found out Art had chiseled and smoothed down a human bone to make it for you. The information almost made you sick on the spot. Art found your horrified reaction hilarious, of course, and it didn’t stop him from laying you down and fucking you with it all the same…🩸

🔪 ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL …

He loves to fuck you in the ass. Art’s a nasty little motherfucker when it comes to the stuff that comes out of butts, and I’m not gonna elaborate here, but you can use your imagination to follow where I’m going with this…🩸

🔪 Art has zero inhibitions: he kills anyone, anywhere. Imagine that relating to sex; of course he’s going to fuck you wherever he wants, including places where you might get caught. Sex in public/risky spaces feels natural to Art, because he literally does not give a single fuck. Remember the first time you ever saw him? When you stumbled out the back door of that sleazy little bar in your home town, so drunk off your ass you thought you were leaving through the front? Art was in the alleyway behind the bar, black garbage bag hoisted over his shoulder, not even looking for anyone to fuck up but when he saw you, he knew he’d found a victim for the night. He’d planned to stalk you home and do unspeakable things to you-but as you took the lead and approached him, there in the alleyway, he was caught off guard, his whole plan upended the moment you slid your arms around his waist, stood up on your tiptoes, and placed a soft, sloppy kiss on his cheek. He was awestruck, and even if he could speak, Art would still have been at a loss for words. You walked him backward a few steps, lining him up against a dumpster in the alleyway. You began fondling him through his costume, grinning when you realized his body had already begun to respond. One thing led to another, and within minutes, Art had you bent over that dumpster, with a fresh hole torn in the front of his costume where your bodies were joined…🩸

🔪 No one would associate The Miles County Clown with tenderness, but if they knew Art, they would see a softer side of him only you do. He’s still fucking deranged, don’t get me wrong. But Art also has moments of vulnerability, when there’s nothing he wants more than to hold you. Sitting in Art’s lap, he wraps his arms around you and stays still, so still, just enjoying the soft thump of your heartbeat against his, and the low hum of your breath on his chest. Your nearness calms the monster inside Art so well that sometimes, he forgets he is the monster itself…🩸

🔪 Another benefit of having you in his lap? Art realized he could use his strength to make you stay in his lap no matter how badly you had to get up and take a piss, forcing you to wet yourself all over him. You felt him gradually getting hard under you as you began to wriggle on his lap. Art could see your discomfort, and when you told him you needed to get up and take a piss, he refused to release you. You’d expect him to be smiling at you at a time like this, silently mocking you; but the look in his eyes was deathly serious, pitch black and full of a demented lust that would have had you locked you in place even if his arms hadn’t. Blushing into his shoulder, you accepted the fact that Art wasn’t letting go of you any time soon, and that he really was into this. He wanted this to happen. You allowed your bladder to empty, a soft trickle saturating your panties, followed by a steady stream of hot piss that spread over Art’s lap. His clothes were soaked through below the waist, your piss running down between his thighs and dampening the couch cushion beneath you. Art was rock hard by this point, his wet cock throbbing against your pussy. He lifted you off his lap just enough to reach between your bodies and position his tip against your entrance, then used your piss as a lube to slide inside you…🩸

[misserabella]

sick love pt2

spencer reid x fem! reader

pt1!!

summary;

after catching your best friend spencer in a compromised situation, the two of you leave behind the ‘friend’ status to become a couple. if only you knew there was much more under the surface…

cw;

really perv!spencer, dark themes, somnophilia, breeding kink, daddy kink, praise kink, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squiring, oral sex (f & m receiving), dom spencer, p in v sex, double penetration, use of toys, unprotected sex, edging, slapping, orgasm denial, cum eating, cream pie, masturbation (m & f), voyeurism, dacryphilia, dirty talking, hair pulling, knife kink (mentioned), blood… MINORS DNI OR I’LL COME FOR YOU!

If Spencer was absolutely and sickly obsessed with you…, it sure wasn’t the worse it could get.

His mind was in haze since the first time he made you his. I had been before, but now? It was just fog all over his brain, a fog under your name.

He could only think about you, dream about you, talk about you… It was all you.

And now that you were his, his whole heart seemed to have been ripped out of his chest. He would love to make a necklace out of it for you, so you and anyone who would try and approach you would know that he was as much yours as you were his.

But because he could not do that, he had made his personal mission to found other ways to do the same with no… Hanging hearts. So he had to conform with just marking you everywhere. Hickeys on your neck and chest, fingertip bruises on your thighs and hips, bites on your shoulders… He’ll put them everywhere and do them anywhere too, whenever and wherever he had a chance.

At first, he thought that you’d be scared by his possessiveness, but you surprised him yet once again when you’d just let him, loving his lips and marks on your skin as much as he did. He’d drag you to the closest empty classroom in free period just to pin you against the wall and attack your neck in mouth open wet kisses that had you rocking your hips against the leg that he had pushed in between your own, his cold fingertips against the warm skin of your thighs and ass, squeezing . “Looking so pretty today, baby.” he’d say, his breath against the wet of your skin making you shiver. “Fuck, I love it when you wear this little skirts of yours, got me all hard on my pants.” you’d moan when his hand would leave your skin just to fell harshly against it in a spank. “Love to see all those fuckers watching you, drooling over you yet still unable to get closer to you because they know you’re all mine...” his mouth was intoxicating, his tongue inside your mouth making your eyes roll and pussy throb. “Wear anything you want baby, anything you want.” he’d whisper, his fingertips trailing along your lower stomach just to bump against the hem of your panties and snuck under them, rolling your clit and making your head fall backwards and against the wall he had pinned you to. “I’ll make sure to mark you all up and pretty for them to know that they will never have what they so want.” and then, he’d choke you to stay quiet as he’d eat you out on top of the teacher’s table, sneaking your wet panties in his back pocket for him to fuck his fist later.

His obsession enhanced. Now that you were a couple, he didn’t have to hold it in anymore —at least that much…—. He’d sneak in your bedroom in the middle of the night to wake you up with his cock deep inside of you. You’d end up crying on his bare chest as he would fuck you dumb, filling you up with his cum for hours on end and using you as he would use his toy. Then, he’d stay inside, keeping his cock warm and your pussy full for the rest of the night. He’d even use the soft spot you had on him to make you sit on it in your stupid study dates, while napping, watching films…, saying that he wouldn’t concentrate if you didn’t.

He was a sucker for you, always tying up your shoes when the laces would come undone —taking the chance to stare at your clothed pussy—, braiding your hair for you —so he could get a sniff of your sweet shampoo—, putting on your makeup first thing in the morning when you were still half asleep —when he could steal some chapsticks for him to use and taste when he’d miss you— and softly taking it off for you when night time came… —sometimes he’d make you cry it out, fucking it out of you—. Anything he could do for you he would do, that and more.

He would often find himself in your room after telling you that he had to take a quick trip to the bathroom, looking for some new panties and little trinkets for his sweet collection and to touch himself buried in your sheets. He’d dry hump your pillow too, leaving it damp in cum for it to dry. The thought of you sleeping on it that night would have him whimpering in his own bedroom, fucking his fleshlight while watching a bad porn in where the girl’s moans sounded like your own, groans falling from his broken and bleeding lips, for constantly biting down on them. ‘Oh god, baby, so good… shit, you like that? Shit, just like that, fuck, you drive me insane…’

His photo collection had grown… Really grown. His favorite new acquisitions were the ones in which he had captured your perfectly used cunt, —his cum dripping out of it and onto your pink sheets— or the ones in which he could see his cock thrusting in your pussy, drool dripping down your chin, since his fingers where down your throat, and chest, neck and tits full of his marks. ‘Yeah, baby. Look at me. Just like that. Stuck your tongue out for me.’

He could not imagine himself nor his cock being away from you for even just a day. And who is it that you want to trick? You couldn’t either. Not when he sounded so fucking pretty every time you rode him, his usually soft groans becoming loud whimpers and moans, hips thrusting upwards in seek of more. ‘Fuck, ah, ah baby, please, please baby harder. Just like that, fuck, yes yes, shit, I love you. Love you so much… I’d do anything for you, baby, fuck, anything. Just let me stay like this, fuck! I’m gonna cum baby, fuck, fuck, fuck…’

Something he loved to do every chance he could get was taste you after cheer practice —something you’ve decided try as of late, and Spencer was all for it—. You had whined about it, saying that you were all sweaty and disgusting and that it wouldn’t taste good, but he wasn’t having it. He had been watching you turn, jump and shake your hips for almost two hours in that fucking little cheer skirt that actually drove him crazy. And he had to say that the splits that you’d do every now and then really didn’t help the tent in between his thighs. So, after your head leader had announced the end of the session, you’d find yourself holding for dear life to his hair as he kneeled in front of you, pulling up one of your legs for it to rest on his shoulder as his tongue leaped at your soaked pussy, eating you out against the lockers of the girls’ changing room. The scent was stronger after your night practices. The taste? Mind blowing. Additionally, you had to admit that the shower sex after that was enough to make you fall asleep on your way back home. Not that he found it a problem, he loved to carry you to his bed just to kiss your forehead and hug you tighter in your slumber. Watching you sleep would get him so hard that he couldn’t help himself by dry humping against your ass, hands on your tits as he kissed your neck. He loved it when you would yell at him the morning after about the new hickeys all over your skin —since he always seemed to push it too far those nights—, but he wouldn’t care less, not when your tits bounced like that and your pretty lips called his name over and over again. At the end of the day, he’d have you screaming his name in another type of scenario, and you wouldn’t be that pissed about love bites on your neck.

He also loved to tease you. Pushing your panties aside and fucking you with his fingers while in a gathering with your best friends. Your squirming and tries to not show having him rocking against your ass. Sometimes he’d even drop something under the diner’s table where you’d be eating together to get a taste of your dripping juices, making you almost cum in the spot. Or those movie nights with your group, where he’d have you crying in the nook of his shoulder due to the amount of times he had already made you cum with his fingers, deliciously overstimulating you. ‘Is she okay?’ You’d hear one of your friends ask, and Spencer would just say that you were too sensitive or too scared depending on what type of movie y’all were watching that night.

The best sex came later, when you would follow him to the bathroom and he would fuck you so harsh your cheek would end up pressed against the sink mirror, fingers down your throat to make you shut up, since your cries were so loud it almost got the two of you caught… Not that he’d care, just the thought of someone stepping in to him fucking you senseless had him filling your cunt in cum… Cum that he’d push inside with his fingers as he pushed your panties back up for it to stay there.

“Be a good girl and I’ll eat it out of you once we are alone, hm?” and he actually would, making you come two more times with just his tongue, leaving you clean.

Something he had started to look into was a little bit more…, darker. He had feared himself when the thought of you bleeding with his initials carved on your skin almost made him faint. Just thinking about you completely to his mercy, all tied up and open for him unable to move, got him unable to sleep for almost a week. He could almost hear your pleads and cries as he fucked into you with already a little vibrator bullet inside.

But the dream you both where living in had to end someday. He just wished it never had to.

That night, the two of you were returning from a day on the pool with your group, your hair still wet since you had been begging him to stay for a little longer, having to pull you out of the water when the sun had gone down and you were shivering, fingers all wrinkled due to just how many hours you had spent in there. The skin of your cheeks, chest and shoulders was sun kissed, flushed even if Spencer had made sure that you had sunscreen applied every hour. “Woah! Careful babe.” he smiled when you had slipped against wooden tiles, giggles leaving your lips when his warm arms pressed you against his bare chest to avoid you falling and hurting yourself.

“Sorry, I guess I can’t help falling for you, Reid.” he chuckled, your burning skin against his colder one making him slightly dizzy, his dick throbbing inside his blue short jeans when your nails scratched his chest, doe eyes looking up at him as you bit your bottom lip.

“That’s my line, baby.” he muttered, leaning in ‘till your breaths met, lips brushing and hips pressing against each other. You moaned when his tongue pushed inside your mouth in a hot yet lazy kiss, the hands on your hips sliding down, to your ass, where his fingers hardly dug, squeezing and pressing you against his hardening cock.

The temperature of the room quickly changed, gasps filling the air with every new kiss that you shared, his fingers tugging on the towel that surrounded you and getting it to fall to your feet. You let out a chuckle that quickly tuned into a moan when his mouth latched to your neck, bitting down hard on the flesh and leaving marks. “Spencer…” you called out for him, hearing him hum against your skin as one of his legs pushed in between your thighs. “We need to shower.”

“I’ll clean you up baby.” your cheeks flushed when his tongue made a long strip up your neck and towards your ear. “You know I’m good at that.” and you knew what he meant, but you still wouldn’t give in, hearing him groan when you pulled him away from your neck by his hair. “Baby…” his lips tried and go back to yours, but you shook your head.

“I need to go wash up.” his hands pulled on your hips to keep you closer.

“I could wash up with you.” he suggested and you chuckled, shaking your head, to what he whined, almost in pain to have to be away from you for… 10 minutes.

“I’ll be back.” you promised, giving him a little peck on the lips, leaning on his ear so only he could listen to what you whispered. “Keep this warm for me, alright?” he whimpered when one of your hands came down to the crotch of his jeans, giving a light squeeze to his hard dick, quickly leaving downstairs and scaping his hands.

Normally, Spencer was pretty patient. Hell, he had been patient with you for years on end, hoping for the day that he got to finally fuck you. But there was something about you after that first taste that had him all hot and bothered. You were like a drug. He’d always want more and more after each overdose. He couldn’t help it, you were all he had ever dreamed of. That’s why he found himself silently sneaking up stairs and straight to his room —which was connected to his private bathroom, where you had eventually brought little bottles of your own shampoos and conditioners for this little occasions where you had to shower at his house—. He had hoped to catch you stripping, maybe even looking for some of his clothes to change into, but never in a thousand years he had imagined this…

You were frozen, completely frozen. Standing in the middle of his room and beside his desk, which’s last drawer was fully open and exposed. He felt his blood run cold. That was supposed to be locked. You weren’t supposed to see what was inside, weren’t supposed to be eyeing his little collection of your naked pictures nor porn magazines with your face glued on top of the model’s. You had seen it all. All the little trinkets he has stolen from you…, all the panties that had misteriously disappeared from your drawers, the new and untouched toys he had bought in hopes to someday using in you: mouth gags, dildos, vibratos, handcuffs…Everything.

“Baby…” he stuttered, your eyes still fixated on the little polaroids and sticky pages of the magazine. It hadn’t been long since the last time he had masturbated to them. Maybe that’s why in a little slip he had forgotten to lock the drawer, the magazine sticking out far enough to catch your attention and leaving you out of words when you’d found his little dirty secret. “Shit.” You had even found his fucking diary, in which he described the dirty things he dreamed of you, that he’d love to do to you… Fucking hell.

He didn’t know what to say to not seem like the creep he was. He had fucked up big time. And now you were going to leave him, you were going to probably call the police and get him in jail with a little restraining order as a welcome gift. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, fuck, you weren’t supposed to see any of this, you weren’t supposed to…” he was trailing off as his feet quickly approached you, trying so hard not to cry that his heart fell to the pit of his stomach when a little whimper came out of your rosy and fully lips. His eyes widened when he saw the look on your face and state you were in: half-lided and glossy eyes looking up at him, cheeks and ears fully blushed and thighs squeezing and pushing flush against each other. You were supposed to feel disgusted, terrified. And yet there you were, wetter and needier than ever. “Look at me.” the low of his voice almost made you cum, walls clenching and breath hitching.

“Spencer…” you whined when his thumb and index finger harshly took your chin, making your head turn towards him. Your voice was a mere whisper, but it still had his dick jumping in his jeans and blood rushing to his head.

“Look at me.” he repeated, this time taking his time with every word to make sure you heard the warning on them. It was not a plead, it was an order. You gasped when your eyes met his, completely fucked out of your brain and feeling dizzy, Spencer made you feel dizzy, the words on his diary had. It was just so much need in them, so many promises of tears and pleasure… His eyes were just two black holes, pupils blown and breathing slow. “Look at you.” he chuckled, unable to believe any of this. You whimpered when his hand left your chin to grip your neck, pulling you against his bare chest and caging you against the wall on your back. You were boiling up, almost evaporating when his lips brushed against the conch of your ear. “Did my little secret turn you on, baby? Did that little pussy of yours got all wet while reading my diary?” you moaned when his leg pressed in between your thighs, he could feel the heat of your core against his bare thigh. “Aw of course you did, you love it, don’t you? Love to know just how much I crave you. How much I want to hurt you and make you cry on my cock. Make you bleed… Fuck you all up and pretty for me until you’re nothing more than a hole for me to fuck into, hm?” you nodded, your head falling backwards in a whimper when he pushed upwards and against your clit, making you rut on him. His lips were all over your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot that got you begging him for more. “Is that what you want, baby? Want me to fill you up on my cum? Use you? Cut you?”

“Fuck, Spencer, yessyesyes please, anything you want. Anything.” he groaned against the skin of your shoulder, biting hard enough for blood to flow in his mouth. It hurt, badly, but it only made you crave him more. Crave it more. Your hands tangled on his air, his half-lidded eyes on yours, which were fixated on his crimson stained lips.

“What is it baby? Want a taste?” he leaned in, a smirk on his face. You whined at his teasing, pushing him against you when his lips brushed against yours, still not giving in. He clicked his tongue, the hand on your neck pining you harshly against the wall, making your head bump slightly against it. “If you want something… You just need to ask.” your back arched when his free hand snuck down to your chest, tugging on your upper part of your bikini, making your tits pop out. You gasped at his harsh grip on one of them.

“Please Spencer, kiss me, kiss me…” you craved it so bad it hurt.

“Poor thing. Why don’t you open your mouth for me, hm?” you didn’t wait to follow his words, moaning when his tongue entered your mouth, the metallic taste of your blood making your eyes roll to the back of your head, hips stuttering as you dry humped his thigh. He kissed you to the verge of tears. It felt so good, the taste of your blood on his mouth, his right hand on your neck and his left leaving your nipples to slowly stumble down your stomach and slip inside the bottoms of your bikini, which laces he quickly unmade, throwing the piece of clothing aside. Your mouth fell open in a cry when his fingers bumped against your clit, a harsh slap being given to your cunt when his name fell from your lips. Your hips buckled against his hand, the sting bringing new tears to your eyes. “Be good baby, you know that’s not my name, is it?” you shook your head.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry daddy…” a smirk tugged on his lips, and he rewarded you with his fingertips back on that sensitive spot, when your mouth fell open in a whimper taking the chance and spitting inside of it.

“Now swallow.” you gratefully did, gasping for air when the hand on your neck pushed in your mouth, fingers making you whimper. “What a beautiful mouth you have…” you moaned when he thrusted his fingers in your throat. And you took it, tongue swirling and sucking on them as you rocked your hips against his fingers and thigh. “Yet no one has yet showed you how to properly use it.” you felt like crying when he took a step back, leaving you squirming and in need of his touch, which came back, harshly than ever to make you sink to your knees, fingers in between your locks. “You know your safe word, right?” you nodded as you heard the ruffling of his jeans and underwear, zipper and button unbuckled leading the denim to fall and pool around his ankles, his soaked underwear came shortly after. “Good… If it’s too much just let me know, okay sweetheart?” You moaned affirmatively when the tip of his cock pressed against your cheek, precum staining the curve of your lips when he outlined them. “Open.” he didn’t have to ask twice, lips parting ready to receive him in your mouth, which was watering at the thought of choking on his cock, of swallowing his cum. He cursed when you kitten licked his tip, the salty of the white beads on his slit making your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hands eagerly push his hips closer, head leaning in to completely take him, just to whimper when he tugged harder on your hair, not letting you get any closer. “Such a fucking slut hungry for cock.” he chuckled, loving just how needy you looked to have him in your mouth. “I bet that’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t that right? Want me to fuck that little and tight throat of yours, hm?” you nodded, a ‘yes, please daddy, want your cock so bad…’, leaving your lips, what made him click his tongue, tip pressing against your wet tongue when you pushed it out of your mouth. “Then fucking take it.” you were gagging when he thrusted inside your mouth, the hand in your hair pushing you against his dick so he could reach the back part of your throat, nose buried in his pubic hair as your nails dug on his thighs. “What is it, baby? Isn’t this what you wanted?” you whimpered when he pulled out just to ram back in, picking up a pace that had you short on air. But the feeling of his big cock fucking your mouth had you only begging for more of that harsh treatment, making you impossibly wet. You were crying due to the constant chocking and gagging, tears running down your cheeks as you took him in your mouth. “Aw, you crying?” the sight of your tears only made him buck his hips harder and faster against your face. “I couldn’t care less.” you moaned around his cock, feeling it twitching in your mouth every time you deep throated him. “Yeah, baby, fuck, take my cock, shit, just like that… What a dirty girl…” one of the hands that stood on his thighs travelled down in between your legs, fingers circling your clit in search of a release that you so desperately wanted. “Are you touching yourself?“ you nod around his cock, a whimper leaving your lips when his tip hit the back of your throat after giving you a harsh slap. “Such a desperate little bitch… Who told you you could make yourself cum, huh?” his dick came out of your mouth and you gasped for air, which didn’t actually last long since there was already a hand around your neck as he kneeled with you.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry daddy!” you quickly apologized, taking your hand away from your soaking pussy.

“Yeah, you’ll be.” next thing you knew? Your back was making impact with his bedsheets, getting a moan out of your lips when his body pressed against yours, lips latched to your neck.

“Fuck!” you screamed when two of his fingers harshly pushed inside of you, fucking you as he sucked on your nipples, fully erect.

“Is this what you wanted, hm? Tell me baby, is this what you wanted? My fingers fucking your brains out and making you cum? I’m sure you do, you dirty whore…” you thighs trembled when he hit that sweet spot in your gummy walls, thumb circling your clit.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you nodded, unable to talk, unable to fucking open your mouth. All you could focus on was on Spencer, on his pretty fingers fucking in and out of you, of his teeth on your tits, on his cock fully pressed against one of your thighs, leaking and ready to cum.

“Fuck Spencer, i-i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna…” and as your walls clenched, you cried out when he left you with nothing. Making your high never reach its peak as he pulled his fingers out of you. Your whole body was trembling due to the denial of your orgasm, hands quickly reaching out for him, but he pressed them against the duvet, finger digging in your wrists. “Please, Spencer, daddy, shit, I was so close…”

“I didn’t say you could come yet, sweetheart. Only good girls get to cum.” oh, he was playing you. You knew this was his little vengeance for that day you had caught him touching himself. His eyes shone with lust when you whimpered due to the spank his hand gave to your soaked cunt. “Look at that. You really want it, hm? So needy for cock…” your back arched when his thumb was back to your clit, toying with the little nub enough to edge you but not to make you cum. He relished in the little pleads that left your lips. ‘Please daddy, ah let me cum, please? I’ll do— I’ll do anything, anything. Spencer, shit, please…’ “Anything?” you nodded, too lost in that sickening pleasure your body succumbed to to even notice the subtle change in his gaze. “Okay, then don’t regret it later…”

And then he was gone, leaving you completely alone in his bed as he stood up, looking for something before he would come back to you. Your half-lided eyes could get a glance of what he was holding in between his wet fingers: a dildo.

You moaned when his lips found yours, teeth clashing and tongues brushing each other as he sucked on your bottom lip. “If you’re so desperate…, why don’t you show me how much you want it?” he said once he had pulled away, tongue outlining his swollen lips as his hand —the one that hold the toy— rose up to your eyes, you whined when you understood what he was doing; swapping places.

“Spencer…” you whimpered, your cries being shut out when one of his hands cupped your face, making your lips pout out a little bit, brushing against his own.

“Come on, you said you’d do anything.“ he was smirking when his thumbed pressed against your bottom lip, dragging it backwards and then sticking it in your mouth. “Good girls get to cum, and maybe, if you put up a good show for me… I’ll fuck your just how you need it, hm?” he clicked his tongue when you nodded, tongue swirling around his finger. “Then go ahead, let me see you use the toy, sweetheart.”

He leaned backwards, letting you have your own space as he handed you the dildo. It was heavy in your hands, and pink, with just the perfect girth and length —there’s no need to say that Spencer’s cock was bigger in both ways, and much more beautiful…— with even veins on its sides.

His eyes never left you as you neared it to your gushing cunt, letting your soaked lips surround it to lube it up. You sighed at the feeling of its tip pushing against your clit, using its head to tease yourself up and down, sometimes slightly pushing around your hole. “Yeah, that’s right. Touch yourself for me… That’s a good girl.” you moaned as you saw his fist hold his hard cock, sliding up and down, slowly, as he observed you. It only made you want him more. Your back arched as you slowly pushed it inside you, eyes falling shut when you felt the burning stretch, gasping for air when you finally bottomed out with a raspy moan. He had fucked your throat for good. “Fuck, baby, just like that… So pretty.” his praising made your walls clench around the silicone as you slowly started to fuck yourself with it. “Look at you…” he chuckled when you started to pick up pace. “Needy, honey?” your eyes rolled to the back of your head when you hit that hidden spot, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip when a scream tried to leave your chest. “Don’t silence yourself, baby. Let me hear you.” his hand matched your pace, a groan leaving his lips at the sight of the toy disappearing in between your sticky folds.

“Spencer, fuck, please, need you so bad, need your cock Spencer, shit, right there, ah!”

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking slut…” he moaned, getting on top of your body once again, hand meeting yours at the base of the toy to harshly push it inside of you, making you scream. “You like that, hm? Like fucking yourself while I watch, yeah? Fucking whore, you love the attention, don’t you?” you were a babbling mess, drooling all over the sheets as the tip of the toy mercilessly pushed against your g spot, making you see stars behind your close eyes. “You want my cock, hm? Want my cock, sweetheart?”

“Yes please, Spencer, pleasepleaseplease, fuck me please…” your hips were bucking against his hand, begging for more. You were burning up, craving him in ways you’ve never craved anyone before. Craving for him to use you, destroy you. You moaned when the top of his leaking cock pressed against your clit, making your head spin as he continued to pound inside of you with the dildo. “Then take it, take my cock, baby.” your eyes widened when you felt him push against your hole, still filled up by the toy. You hands quickly tried and push on his chest, but you moaned when his tip went in, tears pricking at your eyes when you felt him start to push inside of you. You were so painfully full and stretched that your nails dug on his shoulder, making him moan against your neck. “Fuck. So tight. Shit.” you were sobbing by the time he was halfway in, where he stopped momentarily to let you breath. “Shhh, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, you can do it.” he was hushing you, his hands on your cheeks as he kissed the tears away. “You want me to stop? Just say the word baby, just say the word and I will…” his eyes were sweet —although lust glossed them— when he stared at you, promise on the hazel of his irises. You knew he would do it, that he would shut everything down and forget all about this. But you wanted it. Wanted it as badly as him. Craved it even. So you simply shook your head, giving him the green flag to continue. “Fuck, I love you.” he said, kissing your lips. “I love you so much…” you both moaned in each other’s mouth as his hips pushed further, slowly bottoming out and gasping when he was completely in. “What a good girl…” you were crying on his hands as he praised you, trying to breath through your nose and get the slightest used to the filling of not just one, but two cocks inside of you. “So tight for me.” your back arched when he started to move. It was slow at first, trying to get you accustomed to the feeling while making your mind drift off from the pain to the stimulation of your clit and nipples —which he sucked and bit down onto—.

“Shit, Spencer…” he smirked when your frown smoothed out, mouth falling open when he hit your g spot, legs surrounding his hips and fingers digging in his messy and silky hair. “Just like that, don’t stop, please…”

“Look at you… You love the feeling of two cocks inside you, don’t you? Filling you up so good you can’t even breath, hm? What a whore…” you moaned, exposing your neck to his lips. “Can’t get enough with just one so you must have two. So greedy…”

“Spencer!” you screamed when his thrust became harder, relentless and merciless, hands tugging on your nipples.

“Do you feel it baby? Feel your pussy all stretched out for me?” he almost came in the spot when his eyes connected with the bulge on your stomach. “Fuck, look at that. So full of me…” you didn’t mean to, but you were cumming all over his cock and the toy when his fingers pushed against it, making a scream rip out your throat as your walls clenched around him, making him groan. Everything was white and the world went absolutely quiet as you dissolved in his arms, unable to even breath at the intensity of your orgasm. “Shit, that was so fucking hot…” his hips stuttered when your walls fluttered around him. “Don’t clench on me that hard baby, feels like you are trying to milk my cock dry…” he chuckled just to curse moments after.

You were drooling on your shoulder as he thrusted inside of you. You were feeling so good by having that goddamn dildo inside of you that he felt that tightening feeling of jealousy string around his heart. “Fuck this.” he wanted you all for himself. Wanted to fuck you all by himself ‘till you couldn’t even remember you own fucking name.

You whined when he pulled out of you the toy, your walls quickly molding to his size just how he liked it. Still so fucking tight. You felt loss at the little emptiness that the toy left behind, but it quickly got pushed outside of your mind when Spencer started to fuck your brains out of you, hands on your hips as he slightly sat up, bringing you down on his cock with each new thrust. “Spencer, ah, shit, so good…, fuck, daddy, more!” he moaned when he felt your walls clench around him, the muscles below the skin of his arms flexing as he pushed you harshly down his dick, making the tip torture that spot that always made you cum in a matter of seconds. “Fuck, I’m gonna— I’m gonna…”

“Go ahead baby, cum all over my cock. Want to see it drip down your thighs.” he said, changing positions so one of his hands would be free to circle your clit.

“Shit, Spencer, fuck I’m coming!” you screamed when you felt your climax wash over you, making your body go rigid just to go limp after a couple of seconds.

Spencer continued to fuck you through it, cursing at the tightness of your soaked and swollen cunt. Fuck, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t get enough.

“Spencer, ‘s too— too much, fuck, I’m gonna cum again!” new tears travelled down your cheeks at the constant stimulation, fingers never stoping overstimulating your clit and dick harshly fucking into you, your nails dug on his back, drawing blood as you gushed all over his cock, squirting so hard you dampened your thighs and the sheets below you. “S-Spencer, s-stop…” you were crying so hard, unable to stop squirting at his constant fucking, unable to form an actual goddamn sentence, babbling in between sobs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Spencer couldn’t stop his hips, fucking you so good you swore you were fucking dying. The feeling of your pussy around him was like stepping in heaven, the dirty wet sounds of his cock pounding into you and the splashing of your juices making him lose his mind. “I’m gonna cum, shit!” he moaned when he spilled inside your abused walls, making your eyes roll to the back of your head, whimpering at the sticky and warm feeling. “Fuck, baby, so good…” he muttered against your neck as he fucked himself down his climax, hips stopping while he was still buried deep inside of you and arms failing to keep him up right, making him fall on top of you.

The two of you tried to pace out your breathing, you moaning when little pecks were given to your neck, chest and shoulder before his lips found yours, tongue entering your mouth in a lazy kiss. You fingers lazed on his locks, pulling and playing with his hair as his teeth slightly bit down on your jaw, and then your neck, and your collarbones, and your chest, and…

You hissed when he pulled out of you, cum dripping and meeting your juices on the sheets as his lips trailed down your stomach.

“Hurts?” he questioned, to what you nodded, making a slow smirk appear on his face. “Want me to kiss it better?” you let out a little gasp when he nibbled on your hip bone, lips extremely close to your heat.

He took the tugging on his hair as a ‘yes’, positioning himself better and raising your legs up on his shoulders as he left open mouth kisses on your inner thighs, little sighs leaving your lips as he neared closed and closer… “Poor baby, fucked so good it’s all sore and swollen now.” You moaned when he finally got lost in between your thighs, humming at the taste of the two of you dripping out of your cunt. Your head felt backwards as you gave into the pleasure, into his lips, into his name and fingers.

Into his sick love. Into Spencer Reid.

[koenigsbleachedshirt]

How the CoD men would fuck you 🫵🏻

Including: König, Ghost, Keegan, Krueger, Nikto x reader (can be read as neutral)

Contains: dacryphilia, size kink, belly bulge, riding, bondage, sensory deprivation, impact play, face fucking, face-sitting, knife play, marking, blood play

(Nikto's is a bit on the extreme side, so be warned)

And don't call me out!!! I know my favorites show!!!

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

König

is the type to make you ride him

guides you by your hips, slow and deep

if you're not riding him, he definitely loves taking you in missionary..... he loves seeing the bulge on your belly

loves leaving his handprints on your skin from gripping you so hard

definitely gets off on your height difference, loves manhandling the fuck out of you - expect to be thrown and bent without warning

Ghost

always so rough with you- he doesn't hide how much he wants you, he's unfiltered and unapologetic with what he does

will make you sit on his face, no matter how much you protest and whine about it... he WILL eat you out, no matter what - and he does it like a starved man

the type to fuck you in full nelson, or just crushing you under him mercilessly as he burrows his thick cock into you

definitely has a thing for pounding you senseless- has you drooling within MINUTES

will also definitely degrade the shit out of you- but in the "look at my cute little cocksleeve, takin' me so well." kinda way

Keegan

devil in disguise. This motherfucker will tie you up and have his way with you until you physically can't take it anymore

will tie your hands to the bed posts and go down on you until you beg for him to stop- he also definitely busted a load while you did

loves leaving hickeys on your thighs, tummy, and chest - only for him to admire

definitely praises the living daylights out of you to somewhat make up for the relentless teasing you suffer under him

ALSO,, he loves using toys on you. He will hold a vibrator on you or fuck it into you, watching your expressions as he does.... only to deny you your orgasm

Krueger

he's such a little shit..... he's the type to rough you up, get you naked, and then have you suck him off - he's not exactly the gentlest either, he WILL fuck your face, hands in your hair and all

he definitely gets off on seeing your tear-streaked face from when he shoved his cock down your throat a little too far and made you gag

other than that, he also loves to manhandle you around. His favorite positions are definitely doggy, reverse cowgirl, and missionary. He WILL leave his marks on you. Everywhere.

have i mentioned that he loves degrading you and making you cry? Because he will. And if it isn't from his cruel words, then it's definitely from his unforgiving, hard, deep thrusts. He doesn't go fast, no no no... he goes SO DAMN SLOW it's maddening.

also the type to make sure that when he cums, it's in his favorite, tight little hole ;)

Nikto

depending on his mood, he's either the sweetest or the meanest. No in-between. Either you'll cry because it's too much, or you'll cry because it's not enough.

the type to carve his initials into your skin, dip his fingers in your blood, and feed it to you, only to lean in and shove his greedy tongue into your mouth - eager to get a taste of you

he will fuck you either hard and fast, or deep and slow... and you won't get away. He will cage you in and make you take it.

the type to make you cum so many times you're a babbling, brainless mess- molded to the shape of him... or he will deny you so many times you cry and beg for it, but once he gives you what you want, don't expect him to stop until HE is satisfied

he WILL go down on you after he finished - wanting to taste what he made of you...

[bi-writes]

can't stop thinking about dark!simon with a sunshine!curvy!fem!reader, it's gnawing at my brain. (18+)

greeting him when he comes home in a little apron with dough smeared across your cheeks. you're bouncing in the kitchen, giggling as you wrap your arms around his neck. one burly arm hooks around your waist as he palms one side of your ass, and you kiss his lips over his blood-soaked mask again and again as you coo, "missed you so much, made you chocolate chip..."

you talk and talk and talk and talk. you're always talking. you're always whispering in his ear and chattering as he drives and telling him some story about something he missed while he was gone as you tidy up the flat. you never stop talking, never run out of things to tell him, and despite the monotone voice and the lack of response, he hears every single word that you say, and he forgets nothing. when he makes his way back on base, johnny is waiting, eager to hear an update about the receptionist at your work and if she is actually sleeping with your manager.

you wash his clothes without even blinking. you're at the sink, a bucket of cold, suddy water there as you scrub at his shirt. there's peroxide at the side, and you use a delicate hand as you scrub at the stains on it. ghost watches from the doorway as you hum to yourself, in a little pair of shorts with your hair tied up as you rinse the shirt clean. blood runs down the drain, and his shirt is clean as new.

you always find some kind of weapon around the house. you bend down to brush crumbs off the kitchen chairs, and you scold simon with a glossy pout because he left a bloody knife taped under the table. you whine when you find a grenade sitting in the same drawer you keep your tampons in. you complain when you take out the jar of rice to make dinner, and there's a small handgun hidden between the grains. but your face always softens when he cups your cheeks with two big hands, kissing you warmly, muttering, "gotta keep y'safe, luvvie...know there's a bloody line waitin' for a taste of y'r cunny, baby."

you visit him on base once in light wash denim and a white tshirt, sneakers hitting the linoleum and purse swinging as you wave at him. he's standing in front of a line of privates, watching them do jumping jacks, and his eyes light up a little when he sees you waving at him enthusiastically. when he finally makes it to you, he shoves you into the nearest supply closet and tugs your jeans down just enough to fit his cock between your thighs. when he's walking you out, the boys watch as you cling to simon's arm, a lovesick grin on your sweaty face as you flutter your lashes up at him.

he loves when your manicured hands touch him. scratching along his scalp, tracing the edge of his jaw, cupping the bulge in his pants. you're so sweet, the most giggly girl, and he loves tasting the strawberry of your gloss as you make him cum with your hand, cooing against his lips about how strong he is, how much you love him, how you would do anything for him.

he loves it most when you see him for what he really is. when he comes home battered and bruised, bloody clothes sticking to him, a snarl to his voice and the adrenaline of an op still pumping through his veins. he loves that nothing about him scares you. that even like this, you lean up on your toes and kiss him softly, that you get some of the blood and dirt smudges on the pink of your pajama pants, and you don't care, that he strangled a man with these very hands only hours ago, and you still want him to touch you.

he loves that you love him. that when he feeds his cock into you that night, in nothing but your baby pink lingerie, that you barely need any prep at all from how wet you are. thick thighs spreading apart, sticky slick shining on your skin, cunt nice and ready for him because you have missed him that much. he loves that no matter how ugly he feels, you always find him attractive, that no matter how many people he tells you that he killed tonight, all you do is smile and pucker your lips, and tell him, "it's okay, teddy bear, they deserved it, didn't they?" and yeah, they did, cause it is kill or be killed, and there is no universe where ghost does not fight to get back here, to get back to this pretty pussy, to get back to the bed he shares with you so he can watch those pretty tits bounce every time he fucks his cock into you.

ghost loves his pretty girl. all smiles. all soft, so cute, just perfect. ghost casts a shadow over the room, and you just brighten it right back up. ghost tracks blood into the house, and there you are to cover it all up with citrus and soap.

yeah. always just sunshine and smiles at home.

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ LIKE THE WAY I FUCK ('CAUSE I GET ROUGH) — an undercover mission with your superiors leads to compromised positions (in more ways than one)

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + könig

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, canon-divergence, age difference, slight power imbalance, jealous/possessive behaviour, discussions of violence, tags to be added

// NSFW CONTENT BELOW THE CUT //

Turns out, undercover missions involve a lot more make-up, perfume and dresses than you'd anticipated.

Being a seasoned task force operator, it's been months, if not years since you've been to a party outside of your barracks. Let alone one of this calibre; CEOs, billionaires on Forbes Top 50, politicians.

It's off-putting. 

All of it; it's stressful, and it feels as though your skin's crawling, having so much skin on display, so many eyes on you at once. You feel as though you’re an animal at a zoo, being inspected by families with their snotty-nosed kids.

"Sit-rep, Diamond?"

Swallowing around a dry mouth, you reply to your lieutenant's request through your earpiece, tone low and careful. "All as planned, Lt."

Ghost hums a low sound in reply, and your shoulders loosen slightly from their tense position.

You knew that your superior was already inside, having arrived ten minutes earlier. A small, selfish part of you wished that you'd have arrived with him, if only to see how he cleaned up.

Ghost? In a suit? It's like one of your deepest, most dirty of desires come to life.

Such thoughts that you'd never let leave your lips -- thoughts too likely to wreck your entire career and any opportunity to keep your relationship with the man.

"König?" Is Ghost's next question, although it's just the other man's name alone.

Right.

König.

The other superior featured in your dreams. Thoughts. Wank-material?

Whatever they are, they're becoming all too common, all too realistic, and all too risky.

"Successful entry," König replies, heavily accented voice low and quiet -- he's amongst people.

Your limo comes to a stop outside of the decorated museum, and a suited man opens your door with gloved hands. His upper lip is covered in a well-groomed pencil moustache, and you have to stifle a chuckle. Soap would’ve appreciated it.

With a small smile, you incline your head towards him, lifting up the fabric of your skirt so it doesn't brush against the gravel. It’s so… impractical, and you really can’t help but respect those that dress up like this on a regular basis. Looking down at your outfit, you let out a low breath.

When Gaz and Soap had burst into your room with shit-eating grins and a garment bag, you had just known that your dress was going to be... extravagant at best, and downright sinful at worst.

You were correct, of course.

So, here you are, walking down the red carpet into the building, cameras flashing and paparazzi screaming, in this... dress.

Silky black, strapless, and with crossing lines of fabric across your bare back. Chiffon skirts fall behind you, with a slit rising all the way up to where your thigh meets your hip bone. A gun hides beneath, strapped around your inner thigh, paired with your right, adorning a delicate yet hefty knife.

You look... not at all like a Sergeant on Task Force 141.

You look like a celebrity, one just out of her fans' reach. It's a surreal experience, and the mere thought of your two superiors (crushes) seeing you like this... It's frightening. Maddening. And, maybe, a tad bit exhilarating.

Gaz had insisted on doing your make-up -- having so many sisters made him a fully-fledged artist, apparently. And an artist he was, talented with the brushes of eyeshadow and flicks of eyeliner against your skin.

Soap, for his part, had begged for you to let him do your hair -- but considering his only experience was his mohawk, you were less than lenient. With a huff, he’d let you go to Laswell’s wife with the request, as long as he picked out your jewellery.

And now, hours later, your heels click against the stone tile as you enter the museum.

Soft lighting cascades all of the guests in gentle hues of yellow, laughter and polite mingling surrounding you as you enter the main ballroom, skirts brushing against your legs.

Chandeliers above glisten, a live-band plays beautiful jazz, and servers walk around with trays of champagne and finger foods.

It's nothing like you've ever experienced.

This mission, somehow, terrifies you more than the weight of a sniper in your hand and an order to neutralise.

"Target, six o'clock," Ghost's voice carries through your comms as you take position near the corner of the room. There’s fewer people here, and it allows you a moment to breathe and recalibrate.

Your eyes dart to the direction your lieutenant has supplied, and you catch sight of your target immediately. "Got eyes," you murmur softly, smile on your face as you pretend to fix your hair.

"Affirmative," König answers then.

"I haven't seen you before."

Whipping around to the source of the words, you find yourself face to face with a man who you've seen the face of too many times to count.

"Apologies for startling you," he inclines his head respectfully. He's got a few inches on you -- although you find it hard to consider him tall when you're with your superiors more often than not. His skin is closely-shaved, his blonde hair gelled to the nines -- and a smarmy, trust-fund baby smirk to top it all off.

Extending his hand, he announces, "I'm Phillip. Phillip Graves."

...Graves.

The last name of your target -- the son of your target.

"I'm Louise," you say with a sweet smile, taking his hand and shaking it. Your undercover name was going to have to come into play sooner than you'd hoped. "It's a lovely atmosphere, isn't it?"

"Positive, Diamond?" Ghost's deep voice instantly responds to your subtle codeword.

"Not as lovely as you, I'm sure," Phillip flirts, and you pretend to bat your lashes and hide your face from him.

"Ah... thank you, Sir. You're quite dashing yourself," you meekly reply, giving him a soft smile. 

Men like this were so easily played, you found. Not at all like the military men you were surrounded with on such a constant basis. Not at all like…

You can hear both König and Ghost swear underneath their breaths. Releasing the hold on your bracelet -- the one with the built-in comms button -- you shyly bite at your lower lip.

Phillip’s eyes track the movement, and if not for the stakes of this mission, it'd be almost comical.

"May I have this dance?" He asks, offering his arm for you to take. He’s adorning an obviously wealthy suit, dark blue and silky – and it rubs you in all the wrong ways.

You can hear your heart pound in your ears -- this wasn't the way the mission was supposed to go. But, then again, you didn't get into Task Force 141 by expecting every mission to go as planned.

"I would love to, Sir," you smile, wrapping your hand around his arm, allowing him to escort you to the main dance floor.

Subtly folding your hands together around his arm, you're able to push down the button on your bracelet. "You want us to dance in the middle of everyone? I'm not the best of dance partners..."

Phillip chuckles, but through your inner ear piece, you can hear König report, "Got eyes, Diamant."

Chills run down your spine. Either from this situation or…

Or something else that you're not entirely supposed to -- or allowed to -- feel. Not for those two men, and certainly not for your superiors.

"I'll lead you, darlin’," Phillip leans down to whisper into your ear, his lips brushing against your skin. They’re thin, and chapped against your own skin.

His hand moves to sit at your lower back, just above your ass, and the other moves down your arm to interlace your fingers with his. It's an intimate position, your front pressing against his as he starts to lead you with the beat.

Of course you knew how to dance; you wouldn't have been picked for this role if you couldn't. 

However, you deliberately misstep a few times, just to play into Phillip’s ego -- his desire for control and intelligence. 

"For such a beautiful girl, you sure aren't the smartest," he jests, and it takes everything within you not to just swing your fist and leave him twitching on the dance floor. You could, realistically speaking, but that would cost you all the mission. And you would not let yourself, nor König or Ghost, down.

Instead, you nervously flit your gaze from him, moving in closer to his chest. By his squeeze on your lower back, you know it's the right decision. "I... I'm doing my best, Sir."

You want to crawl out of your own skin at the way you’re feeding into his misogyny, how you’re downplaying your own strengths.

He huffs, a demeaning, cruel thing.

"I want to shoot 'im," you hear Ghost mutter, and you'd be a liar to say that those words in that tone don't make you clench your thighs together as you sway against Phillip.

"Make it a competition, ja?" König quips. There's... irritation -- anger, maybe -- behind his question. It's so unlike the gentle giant of a man, and that fact alone has your breath coming out in a short pant.

Phillip, of course, thinks it's him making you so flushed.

With a vindictive smirk, he spins you, completely throwing you off balance. Maybe a tad too dramatically, you find yourself falling into his arms, giggling a little bit.

...It's worth it to hear Ghost grumble under his breath through the comms.

This whole situation doesn't feel quite real, and you know that their attitudes are nearly definitely due to the stray in plans. That's fine. That's all it can possibly be. It’s all that you’ll allow it to be.

But your mind has never been kind, and your imagination has always had the habit of wandering.

"Let's go get some drinks, hm?" Phillip asks, his hand falling dangerously close to 'inappropriate hand placement' territory.

You shoot him a seductive smile, nodding as he pulls you to the open bar, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, leaving you glued to his side. It’s a possessive position, and you find yourself wishing it was either of your superiors holding you in such a way instead.

"Don't drink anything he offers you," Ghost warns. You almost have the mind to chew him out for not trusting you with something so obvious, but... There's something about such subtle 

protectiveness that only feeds your elementary style crush on the man.

"I would love to," you reply as Graves leads you to the bar, hand only moving lower with every step the two of you take. Fear trickles down your spine, your hands squeezing tightly together at your front.

"Say the word and we get you outta' there, Princess," Ghost quips, sharp and to the point.

With your hands already together, you manage to reply an agreement in Morse code -- quick, successive taps of the communications button.

"Good girl," König replies, just a touch breathy from the quietness of his words.

You manage not to trip on your feet, but it's a close thing.

a small snippet, because i feel really bad for my lack of posts!! life is so insane atm its like a satire.

[heavenbarnes]

need our simon to come home from deployment IMMEDIATELY 🫶🏼 | p1 p2 p3 p4

your older bf!simon comes home from deployment at dinner time on a tuesday.

herb alpert on the kitchen radio, knife tearing through a bunch of parsley, garlic and onion simmering on the stove behind you.

simon can hear it- smell it through the mail flap.

smells like home.

your ears prick at the sound of the door swinging open, the hinges alerting you to a secondary presence. back tensing for just a moment before you hear steps you could pick out in a lineup.

he sees your fluffy slippers first, then your little shorts, then his t-shirt. finally, he’s met with wide eyes and the kitchen light hits the curve of your face so nicely.

simon could cry.

you already were.

“oh my god, si”

he doesn’t really want to touch you with his outside clothes, tactical gear smelling like the back of a cargo plane and you’re so soft and lovely he’s afraid he might mess it all up.

but there’s nothing stopping the way you leap at him across the kitchen and swing your entire self around him and he’s forgetting what he’s wearing and he’s wrapping his arms around you like he knows you won’t break.

his tongue is immediately in your mouth and he’s taking one gasping breath and filling his nose with the scent that’s overwhelming him.

simon realises right then that the house smells like dinner but you smell like home. you are home. he’s home.

when he finally lets you let him go you’re telling him to leave all his gear by the washer and you’ll sort it all out tomorrow but right now he needs to sit down so you can feed him.

he’s back in the kitchen with a sweatshirt and shorts on and he’s never found his own clothes so comfortable. maybe it’s because he can smell you on the fabric.

you’d only been cooking enough for one but at this point, you’re so happy to have him home that you’re plating up the whole thing for him as he sits at the dining table.

his chair scrapes back along the floor and he’s patting his thigh, simon eats his tea with you curled up in his lap telling him everything he’d missed.

apparently, old-mate next door broke up with his missus and it was quite the scene.

apparently, they finally finished the roadworks on the junction at the end of your street and there was no longer a blur of orange cones on the drive to work.

apparently, there was going to be a barbecue at the house down the street and the two of you were invited. you might make a salad to take with.

you could’ve been reading him the phonebook and simon would be a happy man. his hand was holding under your thigh and your face was in the crook of his neck.

he was home.

dishes done (together) and tea steaming on the coffee table in front of him, simon isn’t sure this couch has ever been this plush. he could melt into it, as long as it was just like this.

bare feet up on the ottoman and one arm wrapped around your side as your head lay against his chest. you could hear his heartbeat and he could hear the football you’d recorded for him whilst he was away.

deployment was fucking rough, seen and done things he didn’t even want to think about. but this is what he comes home to.

you.

you who curls up in his lap and idly twirls the drawstring of his shorts round your finger.

you who offered up all of your food to him to fill the pit that’d been growing in his stomach over the weeks.

you who couldn’t give less of a fuck about the football on tv but watches in quiet contentment for the sake of being closer to him.

you who doesn’t ask once about what happened while he was away but will always listen without judgement if he needs to get something off his chest.

ideally, simon would like to give you the world in return. then again, he doesn’t think even that’d be enough.

instead, he takes you up to your shared bed and, miraculously, he doesn’t fall asleep as soon as his back touches the mattress.

he could, very easily, but instead he pulls you down on top of him and gets his lips back on yours. the kiss when he came through the door had been passionate but it’d been fleeting.

simon had kept it like that, knowing if he spent a second longer with your tongue on his then he’d have you over the kitchen bench and that wasn’t what he wanted.

really, he wanted this. the full weight of you on top of him and your hips rolling messily against his as his hands went up underneath your his shirt.

he wanted to run his fingertips along your bare back and feel skin so soft he almost couldn’t remember the things his hands had done just last week.

he wanted to map out every spot, every freckle, every ridge across your shoulders and commit it to memory so the next time he had to up and leave he could trace you like a constellation in the night sky.

truthfully, simon didn’t want to leave next time. he wanted to get the call from price and tell him that he was sorry but he couldn’t do it any longer. he now had something- someone to live for and he just couldn’t gamble odds like he used to.

he wasn’t entirely sure he’d still hold the sentiment on the other side of blowing a load so simon put those thoughts in the back of his head and decided he’d work them out on tomorrow morning’s run.

right now, simon felt the soft skin of the inside of your cheeks and your spit tastes like the nectar those gods harped on about and he’s pulling hard on your hips as he rolled something hard between them.

you were moaning, whimpering, whinging into his mouth while you ground yourself into the hard line of his cock. raging erection didn’t even cover it and his head was tipping back as a-

yawn, deep and all consuming broke from his throat.

simon was fucking knackered.

exactly what he didn’t want to happen was happening in front of him, you were sitting up and cooing at him so fucking sweetly.

“si, you’re exhausted- we’ll go to sleep”

strong grip around your waist was anchoring you to the spot so you couldn’t climb out of his lap like you were currently trying.

“sweet’art”

you could hear it in his voice, he couldn’t even lift his head off the pillow. you conceded, however, letting him rub soft little circles into your hips.

“jus’ gimme’ one and then we’ll sleep”

laying back down against his chest, you felt the air woosh out of him as you relaxed your body on his. face fitting into the crook of his neck like you were made for him (you were) with a hand running along his collarbone.

“we’ve got tomorrow”

you knew it was futile, he was already slipping your shorts to the side. head tilting just a little to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“and i need you tonight”

settled.

you felt one large hand lift you up as his other freed his cock out his shorts. just enough, just enough to get the job done because any extra effort was going to render him unconscious.

bringing a hand to his mouth, he spit in his palm quickly before rubbing it along the head of his cock. deep groan rumbled beneath you as you felt him pressing against your entrance.

“lift y’top up, sweet’art- wanna’ feel y’on me”

you did him one better, leaning up enough to slip the shirt over your head and onto the floor. forcing him to hold his arms up for just a second, you pulled his sweatshirt off and discarded it in the pile.

bare chest to chest, you could feel simon shudder beneath you. snaking one arm under his armpit and the other around his ribs, you snuggled in tight as you felt him slip right in.

that’s all he wanted.

weeks of photos, videos, imagination to go off of. this was all he ever wanted. you so close to him that it was entirely possible to imagine the two of you as one. that there was no version of reality without you together in it.

lazily rolling his hips up into you as you met him halfway, rolling yours back down to share half of the load. simon’s arms wrapped around your back, keeping you close and keeping you moving against him.

“sorry love, s’not gonna’ be a long one”

you could only respond with a whimper, gently nodding your head into his neck as your lips press soft little kisses into the skin. you didn’t need a long time, you just needed him.

unable to help yourself from noticing the couple new scratches he’d come home with, your fingers idly traced along them as he sucked in a breath at the feeling.

what you wouldn’t give to keep him home and keep him safe.

a thought for another day as you felt yourself constricting around his cock, grinding yourself into his lap as firm muscle rubbed against your front.

tiny little gasps flitted from your mouth and into his ear, you could feel his body tensing up beneath you. it wasn’t just with sheer tiredness, you knew this man like the back of your hand.

left hand coming out from under where you’d buried it behind his back, you ran the tips of your fingernails down simon’s chest. you stopped at his nipple, gently scraping along the peaked flesh until you heard him.

“need y’to cum right now f’me please”

slipping your other hand between the two of you, you let your fingers wander against yourself until you could feel the tide breaking in the pit of your stomach.

body clenching involuntarily, your mouth dropping open against his skin. no doubt drool pooling against his collarbone as you came with a pathetic whimper. hips bucking a little crazy in his lap as his hand ran the length of your back.

“god that’s it, sweet’art”

simon went rigid, gripping you tight like you might go somewhere as the dams broke and he filled you up. hot and sticky and dripping out of you and onto the waistband of his shorts.

he fell so still the only way you’d know he was still alive was the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. his arms were already starting to fall limp around you.

coming back from the bathroom, slipping off the rest of your clothes and adding them to the pile. simon wasn’t asleep, there were no snores, but he had been rendered totally immobile.

pulling the remainder of his clothes off for him and settling in beside, you pulled the sheets up over the both of you as his arm began drawing you in.

draped across him, you could feel his lips pressing against the crown of your head.

“m’gonna’ rock y’world in the morning”

you snorted a little laugh, nuzzling in closer as his breathing starts to even out. no use in replying, snorings about the only answer you’re going to get.

not that you’d mind.

he was home.