#best glasses. bbys.

[essektheylyss]

Reunited (with my beloved glasses) and it feels so goooood

[chainymail]

oh yeah sorry did no one tell you? the only way to improve your fencing is to practice shirtless in your living room. yeah that's the only way.

[tutuandscoot]

They’re so beautiful they make me cry 🥺

Beautiful practice video by latinaspitfire

Video (x)

[st4rbwrry]

   𝐹𝐸𝐸𝐿 𝒮𝒪𝑀𝐸𝒯𝐻𝐼𝒩𝒢.

꒰ eren’s really sore from football practice and you give bby a massage. ꒱

🫧 𐀔 . . . 3.1k, fem!reader, lowercase intended, body betrayal, submissive eren + whimpers a lot, established consent aka cnc, dry humping, pain kink, eren’s pathetic fr, oral ꒰ m + f ꒱, handjob, love bites, choking, ‘daddy’ said once, creampie, rennie’s embarrassed :( , minors aren’t welcomed! comments + reblogs are appreciated!

꒰ 𝑚𝑜𝑐ℎ𝑎’𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒 ꒱ . . . listened to the nastiest, filthiest sub va audio and babyyyyy, woooo! never been so turned on in my life.

“ughhhhhhh!”

you can hear the painful groans a mile away erupting from the bathroom, eyes peaked over your glasses after you spun around to investigate the suspicious sound. you’re perched up into your soft pink swivel chair where you sat cross legged and comfortably zoned out into an intense mission of call of duty, trying your best not to drool over ghost and konig. the curved monitor in front of your face brightly lit, feminine colors fading in and out from the lights planted around your pc set up. kawaii kitten headphones covering your ears muffling your surroundings.

knocking them off of your ears, you’re able to hear the shower running loudly, the noise cancellation blocking out any movement around you. there’s only one person who could be in your shower right now, and he revealed himself before you could come to the thought. steam flows towards the ceiling as the bathroom door swings ajar, your boyfriend’s sandalwood soap illuminating the room while steam levitates off of his tanned, tatted skin. a pout seeps into your expression when you see the softness in his face, every step he takes towards your bed shoots excruciating discomfort through his muscles.

“baby!” you stand to your feet, the warmth in your chest to see his presence heightening, but the worry in your eyes overtaking all. “what’s wrong, ‘ren?”

“mhmmmm,” he only groans, a towel around his neck and his skin only covered by basketball shorts as he flops face forward onto your bed, hissing from the aches and spasms. accidentally shoving your plushies out of his face and onto the floor from clear irritation.

sometimes forgetting he had a key to your apartment, you’re reminded of him telling you he was coming to see you after practice, overworking himself to the brink of death these past few weeks considering draft season was up and coming. eren needed to make a good impression, and him being an overachiever, it caused his body to slowly deteriorate. waking up at the break of dawn to gulp down green juices and muscle powder before he’s running around his neighborhood for two hours. then he’s going to the field after classes for extreme training with coaches who considered him a son. people who are in his ear constantly worshiping his achievements, including his family — pressuring him to be great. to be something.

the air in the room is cold, and it’s a serenade to his body, like icy hot. he releases a heavy sigh from his pillowed lips as he rests on his stomach in agony.

“i’m so sore, baby!” eren practically whines, the muscles on his toned back shifting as he reaches for a pillow to elevate his head. any small movement is like absolute hell. “fuck, i fucked up.”

“awee, ‘ren. i told you that you needed to slow down.”

sitting beside him on the bed, your knees sink into the memory foam, looming over his figure, putting on your motherly face. relaxing your shoulders, you bury your hands between your thighs, observing him to see what he needed.

“you’ll be limping to the ceremony if you keep this up. there’s only one more game, love.”

“yeah, and it has to count. they’ll be looking at my highlights and shit, and i need to be in their top list,” eren turns his face to look in your direction, his brown hair tied into the back of his head, slightly damp. “once i’m drafted i’ll take a break.”

“okay,” you leave it at that, knowing he’ll pursue a whole rant if you pressed any harder. it kills you to see him hurt, but you know in the end it’ll pay off. you didn’t have faith in him for nothing. “want me to massage you?”

“ooh, yea baby, please,” eren wants to clap to show his appreciation, but can barely move his upper body. he’s clutching a pillow tight to his cheek, lashes kissing his cheekbones with his pretty verdurous irises shield behind lids. lips upturned and his bushy eyebrows furrowed when your hands apply pressure to the back of his calves, kneading the skin with your thumbs gently. “thank you.”

a soft smile tugs on your full lips, glasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you focus on making him feel better. “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“coach had me doing fucking agility courses today, it feels like my entire body is boiling with lava.”

“how’d you even make it up the stairs?”

the warmth of your palms soothed his body, aside from the horrible pain running through him from every touch, you made it a little better. eren whimpers softly the higher your hands go, reaching his lower back now, leaning over him some more to reach his tough spots. he nearly forgets to answer, his knuckles turning white and the veins on his hands leading up to his forearm protrude the harder he grips onto the pillow before him.

“nng, fuck,” he gasps out, muffling his sounds slightly by the cotton stuffed fabric, shifting his hips the deeper the pads of your thumbs sink into his hips, dainty fingers feathering along his skin, blood unbeknownst to you, rushing to his dick. those happened to be his sweet spots. “higher baby, please.”

he says it mostly out of panic, and you oblige, smoothing your hands flat on his back to rub there, beauty marks littered on the canvas. “you didn’t answer me.”

“sorry,” he groans when your hands come to his shoulders, applying pressure with the carpal bone of your hand, dragging straight down to his forearms with your stomach laying on his back. smelling your aroma and feeling the softness of your inner thighs. he blushes, hating his body for reacting the way it is currently. “i-i climbed up the stairs. was hunched over the entire walk to the door.”

“flip over for me.”

“shit. m’so weak right now,” eren mumbles frustratingly, trying his very best to turn his full frame, reaching out for your hand to help. you interlink your arms with his, as if giving him a hug, chest on his to flip him onto his back and position him comfortably. it felt like you were his damn caretaker.

“your knees hurt, baby? have you been wearing your knee pads?”

“mhm hmm, yea. i try to stretch a little before i run in the mornings. sometimes i . . . forget,” the salvia in his mouth glides down his throat as he swallows, seeing your spine arched and the darkly inked butterfly tattoo on your lower back as you focus on rubbing on his knees, and up his quadriceps. “unh, shit.”

“right there?” your tone is soft when you speak, doe eyes attentive when you look up at him and it makes his dick grow semi-hard.

“yes, it’s good, mama.” goddamit. he isn’t trying to sound like it’s obvious he’s turned on right now. he’s literally in too much pain to do anything to you, at least the way he wants.

you hike his shorts up for further access, massaging into the tissue to alleviate the discomfort, eren’s head knocking back as he hisses and grips onto the sheets. you watch him deliriously, trying to ignore the throb of your clit from the visual before you. but he’s making it impossible from the noises he makes. it’s not new, you’ve heard him whimper and moan before when he’s fucking you, but it’s rare when it sounds this . . pathetic. his pain shouldn’t arouse you, but it does.

your face is dangerously close to his dick, your black prescription glasses slipping even further as you try to block out the sounds he’s making by working your hands into his frail muscles. you make it back to his hips which stutter from your delicate touch, trying to hide your smirk when he whines helplessly. he’s breathing heavily, biting down on his lip as he covers his eyes with his right forearm, trying to hide his embarrassment. you’re pawing at his chest now, throwing your leg over his waist and sitting on his abdomen, feeling his dick on your ass cheek.

“fuck, what are you doing?” eren stares at you immediately, brows furrowed as you knead at his biceps, smoothing your hands up to his wrists you grip and eventually pin down to the bed above his head.

“making you feel better,” you pout, lifting your lower body to scoot your ass back and foment your pussy onto him, the subtle gasp leaving his mouth like a symphony. “you’re hard.”

“wait, baby,” eren whines again, struggling to fight the entrapment that you have on his wrists, too weak and sensitive to fight you on it. “i can’t right now. i’m too sore.”

“just lay there,” you tell him, gyrating your hips and rubbing yourself over the fabric of his shorts, barricaded by your silk black ones. his eyes glower at you, mouth going ajar and out comes another desperate whimper. “i need it. you sound too pretty.”

“baby, please. this is so embarrassing,” he goes to shimmy free, but whines from any sharp pain hitting him, entwining your fingers to hold hands as you arch over him, leaving a delicate kiss to his lips.

“you don’t want me?” you ask, batting your lashes as you roll your hips a little faster, humping your clit onto the swell of his dick. you moan, burying your face within the crook of his neck to slick your tongue over his flesh, the slow dragging making his dick pulsate.

“i-it’s not that, god,” he’s heaving now, afraid he’s going to break under you. physically, not possible. but mentally? yeah. he’s not usually the submissive one, so this was a bit out of character. “stop grinding your . . pussy on me.”

now his voice is really breaking, his moans growing high pitched and his whines dragged out and subby. you felt a high you never felt before, being the one to dominate is a rarity. it was a small conversation the two of you had briefly, but never did you think he’d actually let you pursue it. taking the lead felt too good.

“but i w’na grind my pussy on you,” you’re moaning in his ear now, eren’s turning his head to the opposite side to let you sink your teeth into his neck, leaving love bites while he groans. he couldn’t keep his composure with you. “you need to be in pain more. you sound too good. i’m so horny now.”

“you have issues,” he shakes his head, gasping when you nip at his adams apple before kissing it. licking your lips and humming, beginning to hear the squelch of your pussy in the silent room.

“you gave them to me.”

eren doesn’t even realize that his arms are free now, laying limp beside his head as he watches you crawl down his thighs to pull his dick free from his shorts, wrapping your hand around his dick that practically stretches over the shape of your face. it’s leaking precum, and you waste not a drop of it, slapping the head of his dick on your tongue. his fingers are grasping the sheets again, stationed beside his waist and watching you swallow half of him into your mouth.

“baby — damn,” his stomach caves in when he hits the back of your throat, esophagus forcing itself to laminate his dick with more saliva. he’s completely devoted to you, staying still and letting you work. if he had the strength he’d lift his hips and fuck your throat till you’re gagging. “shit. shit, i love being in your mouth.”

you moan around him, twisting your wrist at the base while sucking on what you could, his dick fat and blowing up your cheeks. his eyes fall shut to listen to how you take him, pink lips parting with his eyes drooped in pleasure. you get him wet enough for extra lubricant, popping your mouth free and removing your shorts. he licks his lips at your glistening entrance, your white toes touching his leg as you spread your legs next him to finger yourself open. pretty hair cascading over your features in dark curls, slurping up saliva in your mouth as you stare darkly at him while you grind sensually onto your two fingers.

“c’mon, baby. don’t be mean,” eren groans, hand reaching for your ankle to use whatever strength he gained to drag you closer. “lemme see. c’mere.”

whimpering yourself, you scoot closer to his face, gripping at the edge of the bed as he clutches your ankle, the good bracelet with his initial on it swinging. everything else in his body hurt, even his dick ached now and it was your fault for being so fucking sexy. one thing he could use to his full ability was his mouth, and as soon as your folds are spread wider by your fingers, that’s when he’s kissing at your clit. puckered lips sucking and pulling at her with fervor, jaw widening and clenching as his tongue dips into your hole and he begins bobbing his head, the lewd, downright filthy sounds of your pussy creaming on his tongue.

“ooh, eren,” a squeak lets out, your eyes almost falling shut and drowning your vision. the moans from the both of you are guttural, flowing in sync nearly. he’s sucking on your clit like it’s a pacifier, cocking his head back to spit on her before grunting and flicking vigorously. savoring your taste on his tongue.

your hand goes to wrap back around his dick, spitting in your hand after a prolonged moan and jerking him off, the wet sounds ricocheting off the walls.

“ahh, fuck. oh my . . god,” the moans only grow louder from you, face screwed up the faster his mouth moves. jaw shifting even quicker and you match his pace with your hand, making sure to stay near the tip to watch his hips twitch and hear him moan. “i’m g’na cum, ‘ren.”

“unt unt, sit on my dick, baby,” he immediately removes his mouth, licking his lips and laying on his back again. “you wanna tease me, so fuck me.”

your legs tremble as you crawl above him, knees indenting the bed on either side of his waist, looking behind yourself to hold his dick still and slowly slid yourself down. the stretch is always good, adjusting by now after extensive training, aka eren literally making you lay there and take it inch by inch until it fit and felt right. his dick fully sinks into you, your knees buckling instantly from the fullness, hoisting yourself up by clutching onto his legs behind you.

“f-fuck!” it vibrates through your body, that euphoric wave that he’s sucked into your own. sexual chemistry, soul tie if you will. your knees interfere, making your pussy squeeze tight and eren can do nothing but clasp onto his own angelic hair, his tatted forearm with a cuban link on his wrist killing your clit. hair long fallen out of it’s tie.

“she looks so pretty like this,” eren hums, sucking on his lip before spanking the outside of your thigh hard, trying to coax you into moving. “lemme see her suck me in and out.”

rolling your lips inward, you moan as you raise and drop your ass down, skin interacting loudly with his own. eren hisses with rouse, drinking in the view of your juices coating his cock, dripping in fact. the visual evidence of him splitting you open as you rock on him to fuck yourself makes his brain explode, unable to choke his moans down. tossing your head back, he studies the art of contour. your neck, chin, and nose. the curves, the area of fat on your tummy . . . you are beauty divine. and you’re so damn hot.

“you’re so damn hot,” it’s spoken the same way he thought it, perhaps with more vigor.

you feel yourself getting close, so you lean yourself forward and get ahold of his wrists again, that red tint coming back to his cheekbones. your body is flat to his, and you listen to your wet pussy glide up and down as you drop your ass back heavily, his strong thighs hitting it. you’re breathing into his mouth when he goes to kiss you, your pace getting harder and you hear him whimper again and again. the pain and pleasure mixing. that soreness in his body fucking with him, but serenading you.

“fuckin’ get it,” eren grunts in a hushed tone, his words persuading you to bounce harder, making it sloppy and incredulously loud. “get it, baby. make a mess. f-fuckk . . unh.”

“oh my god,” the noise you make is a mixture of disbelief and arousal, shaking above him while he throws his head back into the pillow exposing his gorgeous neck, silver chain sprawled intricately within the contours of his neckline. he’s driving you absolutely insane. “keep moaning like that, baby. it’s so good. i can’t.”

“you g’na fuck it till it hurt, too? you like hearing me in pain that bad?” he locks eyes with you again, body trembling with pathetic whines leaving his throat.

“y-yess, love it,” you admitted, swirling your ass and riding him faster, tears brimming your sockets. “you’re so pretty, daddy. you’re hitting my spot.”

he watches as you keep yourself where you want, his dick curved into that sweet part making your eyes gloss white, grinding harder while digging your nails into his wrist, mouth agape and precious broken moans escaping. that pressure in your tummy bursts, and you’re cumming while still fucking him, squealing and crying as you drench his pelvis. that sends eren to overdrive, muttering a stream of expletives before he’s nearing his orgasm not long after.

“ooh, shit. get up, get up. i’m finna cum.”

“n-no,” you add more of your strength to overpower him, keeping him flat to the bed as you lean up and roll your hips. he looks up at you with warning, your gushy walls sucking him in the more you clench and cum. batting your lashes as his hands wriggle in your grasp, upper body shifting from being overwhelmed with ecstasy. “fill me up.”

“awe, fuck me, baby. fuck, fuck, fuck!”

whimpers, shaky moans, and whines. they’re all playing a part in how he releases and makes you cum again as he’s cumming, screaming in the air as he fights through his aching body to spank your ass fervently. filling you up like you cried for. his noises are dry, like they’re fighting to get out. coming out in weak, fucked out, high pitched grumbles and keens. almost like he’s in goddamn heat. it’s all so hot. he hates his body for the ultimate betrayal of submission. but also, hates to admit he fucking loved it. excruciating pain aside.

“get off me,” eren heaves, swallowing from a dry mouth and his excessive moaning. “please, baby. i can’t take it. i’m sore. i’m asking nicely.”

smiling, you wrap your hand around his neck before sticking your tongue out to glide over his lips, tasting him and begging for entrance, giving him a nasty, overjoyed kiss.

“i’ll give you another massage, sexy.”

© 𝑠𝑡4𝑟𝑏𝑤𝑟𝑟𝑦 . all rights reserved. please do not repost, steal, or modify my work simply because it is mine. stealing isn't cute. i'll ruin your life.♡

[littlexdeaths]

whiplash - e.m.

eddie munson x fem reader

warnings: teeny tiny violence, reader has a panic attack, eddie is the sweetest, eddie and reader are in college

a/n: this is absolutely inspired by my first experience being shoved into a mosh pit at an avenged sevenfold concert when i was a wee teen. i hope you enjoy xx.

also shout out to my love @xxbimbobunnyxx for helping me with the title and some of the dialogue, and my bby @undead-supernova for beta reading for me. ILY BOTH SO MUCH 💕

hot, sweaty bodies were pressed against you at all angles, nearly suffocating you. at this point you couldn’t even see the band playing on the stage, a sea of taller bodies now blocking your view.

when your best friend asked you to attend a metallica concert with her you didn’t exactly know what to expect.

but this definitely wasn’t it.

the small venue was packed, the air filled with the smell of sweat, marijuana and cigarettes. your choice of a leather jacket felt incredibly stupid as it was now tied around your waist due to the growing heat surrounding you.

your palms felt clammy as they clutched onto the hem of your friend’s shirt. the constant moving of the crowd seems to pull her farther and farther away from you. until the swirling pit of metalheads swallowed you both whole, losing sight of her head of blonde hair instantly.

your panicked shouts of her name were drowned out by the screech of an electric guitar— your body now being shoved around to the chants of ‘pounding out aggression.’ the song eerily fitting as you see a ringed fist connecting with another man’s jaw.

your heart is beating in your ears, that familiar feeling of panic washing over you as you continue to be shoved around like a rag doll amongst the group of men. until you somehow landed on top of someone… who had been knocked to the ground only moments before you.

before you have time to react a large hand quickly wraps around your forearm, yanking you up and out of the dizzying circle of death. you all but let the stranger carry you through the crowd. the male shoving past throngs of people until you’ve safely reached the back of the bar.

you barely register his voice as you lean against the brick wall, chest rising and falling at an embarrassingly fast rate. your eyes squeeze shut as you attempt to get your breathing under control. those same hands that pulled you out now rest carefully on your shoulders, helping to ground you.

“hey sweetheart, you alright?”

his face finally comes into focus as you blink your eyes open, your heart now beating against your ribs for a completely different reason.

he was painstakingly gorgeous, full lips lifting up into a soft, dimpled smile. “there she is— hey man can i get some water?”

he slaps his hand on the bar top, the clear liquid sloshing out as a glass is slid over to him. his chunky rings clink against the side when he grips it, now holding it up to your lips.

“it’ll help, trust me.” you gladly take the glass from him, gulping down the lukewarm tap water.

“thank you…” you mumble, setting the now empty glass back on the bar and wiping the corners of your mouth. you mentally forceyourself to stay put, despite the bigger part of you wanting to run out of the bar from sheer embarrassment.

“are you here by yourself?” he asks and you shake your head in reply before resting it against the brick wall behind you.

the brunette seems to be studying you while you take in some slow but shaky deep breaths. letting yourself do the same as your heart begins to return to a normal rhythm.

even in the muted light you can see his dark curls were damp with perspiration, bangs sticking to his forehead. no doubt from being in the middle of that pit for quite a while. his cut off band tee showed off an extensive collection of tattoos. that soft smile morphs into a small smirk, as you realize you’ve been gawking at him.

calming breaths long forgotten.

“you can g-go back out there… w-wouldn’t want to keep you from the show.” you fumble over your words, now finding the sticky floor and your beat up sneakers far more interesting than the gorgeous metalhead before you.

the male chuckles, casually resting his shoulder against the wall next to you. his hot breath fans over your cheek when he leans in closer, “not a chance, sweetheart. until we find your friends, you’re stuck with me.”

you glance back up at him, surprise crossing your features. you knew most people would gladly leave you behind in the shadows, especially considering the band that’s owning the stage. that sentiment alone makes the butterflies raging your insides flutter even faster. the chaos of the crowd is now forgotten as he grins sweetly down at you.

“i’m eddie, by the way.”

the music has seemingly gotten louder since the two of you left the crowd, now having to shout your name back in reply despite the lack of space between you. his smile only widens as you turn to face him fully, crossing your arms over your chest.

“and what is a fair maiden like yourself, doing in a place like this?”

you can’t stop the giggle from leaving your lips as he gestures dramatically around the dingy bar before his dark eyes are back on you.

“oh no reason at all… just needed a study break.” he can tell from the ride the lightning t-shirt adorning your frame that you’re teasing him, but he plays along anyway.

“so you stumble into a random metal concert, only to get caught in a circle of death? that’s quite the break, sweetheart.” he nudges your foot with his own, earning another giggle from you.

“something like that, yeah.”

he hums in response, running a hand through his unruly curls, “duly noted— i’ll have to take study breaks like that more often.”

the two of you quickly fall into easy conversation, no longer paying attention to the concert goers surrounding you.

despite having only met him less than half an hour ago, you both seem quite comfortable with each other. any embarrassment from your small panic attack now a fleeting memory as he tosses his head back with laughter. the sound warming you from the inside, out.

“gotta say i’m a little shocked, first show and you’re already hitting the pits like a pro.” he jokes, leaning in a little closer to you. the scent of his spicy cologne washes over you, making your head spin, “practically took that guy out by sitting on him.”

you groan in embarrassment, playfully shoving his shoulder as he laughs again.

“i’ll have you know i’m quite fond of the music… just not the…” you gesture towards the sea of bodies that are jumping, shoving and headbanging to for whom the bell tolls.

“moshing?” he finishes for you, as you nod sheepishly.

before he has a chance to say anything else, a loud squeal fills your ears as a body slams into you at full force. nearly knocking you over in the process.

“there you are, babes! i’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

earlier you would’ve been relieved to hear your best friend’s voice, but now you can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. hoping your emotions aren’t written across your face, but she doesn’t seem to notice. she’s a little too preoccupied with staring at the male leaning next to you.

“now who is this?” her tone is overly playful, wiggling her eyebrows at you suggestively.

before she can embarrass you further, you elbow her in the ribs. effectively stopping anything else from leaving her mouth besides a little huff.

“eddie munson, certified mosh pit rescuer at your service ladies.”

he does a little half bow, causing both of you to break into a fit of giggles.

“wow… a modern day knight in shining armor huh?” she teases but seems impressed nonetheless, “wish i had a hot guy to pull me out of there, i basically had to army crawl my way out.”

even in the shitty bar lighting you can see his cheeks are tinted pink from her compliment, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“it was nothing really, just happy to help.” he shrugs before pushing himself off the wall, sliding his hands in the pockets of his ripped jeans.

“modest too? where did you find him?” she gushes, gently bumping her hip into yours. “and does he have a brother?” she whispers that part to you, ignoring the way you roll your eyes at her.

“well i see you’re in good hands now, sweetheart, i hope you enjoy the rest of the show.”

as he turns to leave you feel your friend shove you forward, giving you a look that screams, ‘are you insane? don’t let him get away!’

“eddie, wait!” you shout, gently tugging on the male’s wrist before he gets too far. that dimple making another appearance as he turns back to you.

“miss me already?” eddie teases, fully enjoying the flustered look that crosses your features.

“i uh, i-i’d really like to thank my knight in shining armor properly… maybe over coffee?” you nervously chew on your lower lip, praying that you didn’t read this entire interaction wrong.

but seeing his face light up squashes any doubt, watching as he grabs a pen off the bar. holding the cap between his teeth as he takes your hand, scribbling his phone number onto your palm with a satisfied grin.

“looking forward to it, sweetheart.”

he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before disappearing into the rowdy crowd.

tagging some moots who seemed interested 💛

@babygorewhore @hellfirenacht @thepurplelovewitch @impmunson @voyeurmunson @madelynraemunson @take-everything-you-can @corrodedcorpses @serasvictoria @munsonhoneybaby @splendiferous-bitch @eddiesxangel @taintedcigs

all dividers made by yours truly 💕

[daenysx]

hi bby, could i request jealous modern!aemond?😊

i tried my best but i feel like everything was better in my head, i hope i managed to get things right with the words <333 thanks for requesting

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader

-aemond needs to get you back.

cw; kinda like exes to lovers, jealous!aemond, aemond being an idiot and he's sorry for that, criston cole in his own warning, reader's shorter than aemond, mentions of alcohol, kissing, aemond being desperate to get you back, also he's a sad fool and he accepts that, suggestive towards the end but nothing descriptive, title is a hozier lyric

wc; 2k

i'll crawl home to her

aemond likes to think he's good at controlling his emotions. at least he can keep his face neutral, he doesn't let people know what he thinks.

that turns out to be a lie, though, the moment he sees a guy behind the bar stool you sit.

he relaxes his fists. you're not his girlfriend. he has no right to feel jealous over your affections. who's that guy, anyway? how can he be bold enough to talk to you like this, leaning to the bar with his arm almost wrapped around you? aemond hates the idea of someone being braver than him. he fucking despises the idea of you giving a smile to that- that asshole.

"you okay?" cole asks, his glass almost empty in his hand. he follows aemond's gaze and, boom. just like he guessed.

"of course, i'm okay." aemond replies, coolly. there's no logical reason behind his real emotions.

"if you keep staring like that, she will notice."

aemond turns to him sharply. his gaze is burning, almost feels like crying or something worse than that. "i'm not staring."

"if you say so." cole shrugs. he's got worse problems than dealing with aemond's jealousy to be honest. he knows aemond will never admit what's happening in truth.

"do you- do you know who that is?" aemond asks, not that he thinks cole can actually know a random guy at the bar. he tries to fill the stupid silence between them, change the subject after that, storm out when he finishes his drink. he despises the pathetic situation he unwillingly put himself into.

"do i know the guy who's flirting with your ex-girlfriend?" cole pretends to think. "um- no, i don't actually."

the mention of you burns his chest. it's because of the whisky, he tells himself. keep your cool, keep your cool. don't let them know anything.

"it doesn't matter, anyway." he says, feeling like a desperate fool.

"no, it doesn't." cole agrees. aemond can sense his mocking, his tendency to talk boldly tonight. cole isn't like that usually. "because you are not together anymore."

"we're not."

"because you let her go." cole continues, takes a sip from his glass. "it was quite stupid of you if you ask me."

"i didn't ask you, cole."

"no, no, but just- what were you thinking when you decided to break things off with her, hmm? what was the motivation behind it?"

"you're going too far."

"i'm not." cole says. "you just can't face with your own decisions."

"fuck off." aemond stands up, getting his jacket. "you don't even know what you're talking about. didn't ask your damn opinion about my love life, did i?"

"just admit you failed, aemond. lost the one good thing about you." cole speaks calmly after him. "you'd do all of us a great favor."

aemond walks away. there's no need for drunken arguments tonight, he's certainly not in the mood for discussing his past decisions. he can't help a brief look on your seat, though. you're not there. he didn't see you leaving, he can't see your jacket or that sparkly purse you love so much. the guy stays where he is, chatting with his friends. where are you?

"oh!" someone shorter than him almost collapses with his chest. "aemond?"

aemond wishes you to not look so pretty with that smudged eye make up and- his fucking favorite color on your lips. what kind of strength should he have to not kiss you against the wall when you're looking at him through those glossy eyes? he takes a step back, an apology ready on his lips.

you beat him through it. "sorry." you say, blinking your pretty eyes. "didn't see you there."

"no, it's okay." he collects himself before doing something stupid. "i was walking too fast."

you nod, your purse in your hand and your jacket thrown on your shoulders. you don't look drunk, maybe just tipsy. turning your back to him, you keep walking your way, out of the club. running into your ex-boyfriend shouldn't stop you from going home.

aemond thinks of the guy back there. you're not together with him, are you? he's not with you right now, he doesn't call a cab, and you don't look like you're waiting for anyone. that must be a relief. it doesn't feel like it, though. aemond is certain anyone who sees you would fall for your charms, that guy was no exception. all the hypothetical men get into his head. fuck them all.

"are you alone?" he asks you, foolishly. you nod. no words for him. why would you bother?

"i can- my car is over there if you-"

"i don't want anything from you, aemond."

okay. he deserves this. he knows he deserves this.

"it's late." he says. "i know you don't want anything to do with me, but i can at least-"

"i said no." you cut him. "you don't have to pretend to care."

you start walking in the cool breeze of night air. it feels nice on your face. aemond follows you like he's lost, like he doesn't know where to go without you. "can we talk?" he asks, his voice is softer than the last time you talked. "please?"

"there's nothing to talk about." you tell him, looking at him briefly.

"i made a mistake." he says like he's pleading. the alcohol gets him, his lips move on their own. he keeps telling himself he won't regret anything he tells you right now. he's not drunk, that means they are all real. "i made many mistakes. letting you go was the worst of them."

"that sounds like an interesting story." you say, sarcastically. "would you like to continue? i'm sure people on the street will enjoy your freak show."

he has no explanation for this but your attitude turns him on.

"i saw you with that guy." he says.

"you really should stop talking now." you say. "you're being pathetic."

"no, i-" he can get on his knees and beg. he's cursing his past self, cursing his stupid decisions. "please."

"please, what?" you get angrier each second. this is not a game you'll be playing with him. "do you realize how stupid you sound?"

"of course i do." he answers with a slight pout. "i just need you to see- to understand how terrible it makes me feel, to- to see you with another guy and not being able to do anything about it-"

"no need to be so selfish." you say, calmly. "i'm not your anything. you cannot react like this every time we run into each other by chance."

"i regret it." his legs can give up any second now. he begs for something divine to help him out of his misery. "i regret everything i did. i never should have let you go."

your heartbeat gets quicker with anger and adrenaline. the fact that you're still hopelessly in love with him does nothing to calm your nerves. he doesn't deserve your love. you will not accept anything he says until he proves he's worthy. you try to control your breath, stop your hands from shaking. he has no right to do this, you remind yourself.

"it's too late." you say. "you don't deserve to get everything back after you let them go like the way you did."

he looks at you so sweetly, you have to swallow and look away. he's fond of that attitude of yours, how you put yourself first after he hurt you, and his chest tightens with the loss of you there but he can't help a wave of affection towards your frowny face and your crossed arms. there's his girl, you're still there, still present with your anger and precise words. he would to anything to get you back.

"i know." aemond agrees, slowly. "i promise, i know- and you're right, whatever you decide to do, you're right."

"are you trying to fix us just because you saw me with another guy?" you ask, eyebrows furrowed.

"no, of course not. not only because of that." he says quickly. "i wanted you back since the first time you walked out. i just didn't have enough courage to talk to you."

"so you're admitting you were being stupid and acting like coward?" you challenge him with two things he hates the thought of being the most.

"it was stupid of me to break up with you." he says slowly. he's gonna have to be a big boy for this. "i was only trying to protect you from my family and- and myself, but i acted cowardly."

"i can protect myself." you say. "i don't need you to decide for me."

"i know that, sweetheart." he smiles. it's a tiny move on his lips, he's always so fond of your independent nature. "i apologise for not speaking things clearly."

it's your turn to smile. you take a step towards him, he stays still. the top buttons of his shirt expose his neck nicely, the chain you got him hanging there. he never let you go. he was only being an idiot. you think you want him back. he can fix his own idiocity by himself, but you want him back.

"what do you want?" you ask with a kind voice like you're teasing. you're not teasing, not in the least but he doesn't know that, does he?

"i want you to be my girlfriend again." he says, straightening his posture. his shoulders are high, his neck long. he feels like a dragon ready to fight for you. "if you'll have me."

you push him softly against the wall behind him and cup his cheeks. he accepts the kiss greedily, changing positions so that your back is against the wall. he makes a rightful mess of your lipstick, his hands on your waist and on the back of your neck. you close your eyes. his scent hits your senses so well, your hand goes to his shoulder to pull him closer.

you break the kiss. "you cannot do the same thing again, okay? you cannot leave me and come back, you cannot think for my place and make my decisions when it comes to you and our relationship."

"okay." he says, his eye closed and his lips following your mouth. "i promise."

"good." you say, pull him for another kiss. it's only been two weeks but you missed him. he feels safe like this, and familiar with his body pressed against yours against the wall of a club. the darkness of the night covers you, your sparkly purse is the only thing that can be seen from a distance.

aemond kisses you like he's been out of breath for so long. he's been a desperate fool for days but now it's over. everything gets clear when he gets you like this, his mind free of worry and anger, all those devilish thoughts that bother him. he's content with his place, he doesn't have to pretend he's okay. it's all real.

"by the way-" you start saying between two lovely kisses. "that guy back there already has a lover named charles. you didn't have to worry about him anyway."

aemond laughs and it's a real laugh, not one of the fake ones he has to throw into aegon's or cole's face. you smile and he kisses your cheek. you hold his hand, he squeezes your fingers.

"i like your dress." he changes the subject, leading you to his car. "is that new?"

"of course it is." you answer, cheekily. "my boyfriend decided to be a jerk for no reason and i had to keep myself busy with something."

aemond had no idea the night could turn into something amazing when he first agreed to come here with cole. he can't keep his hands off you, kisses you against the car this time. he's gotta find a way to make up for the time he made you lost. kissing you and getting you your favorite drink on the way home might be a good start.

he gives you a silent promise to atone his sins between your legs in the following hours.

[luviisabella]

would you ever think about writing for shigaraki? Or one of the villains? I love the heroes but there's just something about this skinny man when he's half naked that makes me FERAL.

Yes I do !! Ironically my favorite mha villain IS Shigaraki, he is soooooo fine. Especially in the episode where they break him out of the glass tube and he was in that black suit. I had to rewind 🤭

So so happy to write for this man, thank you bby for the ask 💗

- author

Tomura never wears a shirt. It’s so common and normal to see him walking around in sweats, a pair of headphones wrapped around his neck, and those stupid fuzzy sandals Dabi got him one year for Christmas. (He burned his other shoes so he has to wear them)

It was an unusual hot day and everyone was melting, you were sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand while groaning at the thought of even moving a finger. You were wearing small jean shorts, a tank top and your hair was up out of your face. You were scrolling on tik tok before getting a notification..

[Tomu]: hey

[Tomu]: bring me a water

[Tomu]: please.

You groaned before getting up off the couch to bring him a drink from the fridge, he had been in his room for hours on end. I mean to be fair it did have the best air conditioning but nothing to as stopping him from getting it himself. You opened the fridge and grabbed the water, it was freezing. You looked around before opening it and taking a small sip, it’s not like he’d notice anyways, and plus you’re doing him the favor of bringing it to him.

You close it tight before exhaling in sudden relief at the cold sensation spreading throughout your body. You stretched your arms above your head, now revealing your pelvic bone before reaching for the drink and heading to his room.

You knock on the door.

“Im coming in.” It was good to give warnings , one time you walked in on him changing and weren’t able to look him in the eye for about a week. He didn’t mind whether you knocked or not, it’s not like he had anything to hide.

You open the door and to no surprise he’s sitting and rotting away in his gaming chair. The room was cold though, it was so nice.

You take in his messy figure, his toned arms flexing as he pressed the buttons on the controller, his jawline and side profile looked amazing from this angle, and his-

“Thanks.”

The response broke you out of your daze as you let go of the water bottle after having placed it on his desk.

“Yeah no problem” and you look at a poster on the wall that you could have sworn to of recognized when you went out to the mall last week.

What you didn’t notice was him taking in your figure. Since it was hot you wore a tank top with nothing to cover underneath.. and since his room was cold, it prominently revealed your nipples to his field of his vision. Now he was fully looking at you. Your little shorts, the slight sweat between your thighs, how your shirt is slightly rising up, the sweat dripping from your jawline and how your hair is a bit messy but cute.

You look back at him and he’s just playing the game.

“Did you need anything else ?” you place your hand on your hip as you talk to him.

He shook his head.

“Okay well I’ll be out there if you need me.” And with that you turn away and head to the door, until a sudden tug against your belt loop on your shorts pulls you back.

“Tomura ??” You turn to look at him with furrowed eyebrows only for them to sprint up when you realize what he was going to say.

“Did you take a sip of the water ?”

his voice was low, it didn’t indicate that he was mad, just curious.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding your head..

But before you could explain his tall figure was now hovering over you. Your back pressed against his desk and his hands on both sides. On any other day he would’ve let you walk away with it but he was in a bad mood, especially with this heat.

“Tomura-?“

his hand on your hip tugging you close to him was enough to make your knees weak, this was a different side of him, and the dirty smirk on his face was only making the heat between your legs grow.

—

“Since you wanna take a sip of my drink I might as well give you a real reason to be hot.”

[sanjisboyfie]

golden retriever boyfriend ! itadori yuji

yuji x male reader

-> very short but i wanted to show smoe love to this cutie wootie patootie.

- oh my fucking god. the absolute sweetest boyfriend i fear. this guy literally praises the ground that you walk on and is at your beck and call as if you were a deity and he is your servant. your day is just him constantly asking if he can do anything for you to make you happier, usually the response is just his company, which he blushes and playfully smacks you for.

"honey, do you wanna go to the store to buy some more snacks before we binge watch?" yuji asked, a wide grin on his face, "gojo-sensei forgot to take back his wallet he leant me from my last mission, so we can splurge and he won't even notice!"

you laughed at his eagerness, but shook your head. instead, you opened your arms up for him to cuddle himself into and said, "i just want to spend some time with you, i missed you,"

without wasting another second, yuji jumped into your arms and peppered kisses all over your neck, jaw, and face, "i missed you even moreee!! let's turn on your show already, then," yuji contentedly closed his eyes, breathing in your scent as his cheek was pressed against your chest.

he was in heaven.

- constantly thinking of you. he's always seeing things on the street that remind him of you, always wondering if you'd like something he picked out for you from a street vendor, will constantly be talking nobara and megumi's ear off about, "oh, [name] really likes that restaurant! should i buy him something to go?" "haha, me and [name] watched that movie last night and he really liked the main character's best friend, even though i liked the main character more!" "nobara, do you think [name] is more handsome wearing a bracelet or necklace? huh? well, i think he lookes handsome either way, but i don't have money for both so i need someone unbiased to choose."

they think they've heard enough, but they very clearly haven't since yuji always goes above and beyond in talking about you.

you're there to hear the praises he sings for you 50% of the time, but the other 50%...poor nobara and megumi because they gotta deal with his yappin ass. he never shuts up in general (he's just a bby) but when he gets on a tangent talking about you ... it's like this guy doesn't need to breathe.

he's just so happy and content with the relationship you guys have he can't help but make it known to everyone around!!! another thing is he could care less if it annoys the fuck out of everyone around him, he just nods his head at their annoyance and then goes, "well, anyway, haha, as i was saying before i was interuppted!"

literally inumaki probably has had to restraint himself from telling yuji to "shut the fuck up" because he just wouldn't shut up.

- yuji likes to make it obvious to you how loyal of a boyfriend he is. he barely glances at other people on the street if he's with you. he has actual hearts in his eyes when he even sees you in his periphereals, if you are right in front of him, dear lord save him.

the two of you were walking down the street to the conveince store. your pinkies were linked together as yuji listened to you talk about your day and the training you had to do. at one point you were complaining about gojo's antics as an irresponsible teacher and yuji couldn't help but think how adorable that annoyed look on your face was.

the pout on your lips, even you rolling your eyes was so attractive to him. he was enthralled by your story and, of course, you, he didn't even realize that he walked right into the clear glass door of the store.

as he face planted staight into the wall, you immediately are fussing over if he is alright. he turns to you with a grin, nodding his head to show he was fine. but the smallest drop of blood coming from his nose said otherwise.

and as you fretted over his very minor injury, he couldn't help but sigh in content as he thought you tending to him was the most heartwarming thing he has ever experienced.

"you'd be a great nurse, [name]," he says, not minding the subtle glare you threw at him, "your hands are so soft and gentle-"

"they're about to smack you if you don't shut up," you gruffly replied, but yuji wasn't deterred at all in singing your praises even more.

"you're so kind to me," he says with a dreamy look in his eyes.

once again, you sighed heavily at your boyfriend's attitude, pinching his ear, "quit it, yuji! what if you actually got hurt, you're lucky it was just a rush of blood. you need to be more focused, especially if we're gonna be out there fighting curses,"

yuji, unfortunately, doesn't take any of your warnings seriously. as he presses his cheek to the palm of his hand, he just stares at you lovingly, "what do you think? should we buy you a cute little nurse outfit and i can be your sick patient? you'd look so handsome in scrubs!"

another pinch to his ear, "yuji! are you even listening?!"

- has this really adorable habit of just getting lost in whatever you're saying and blinking owlishly at you with a very cute smile on his face. it's a really adorable sight, but when you're actually trying to tell him something, he's just looking at you like ":3" and not at all listening to what you're saying.

"gojo-sensei said to be extra careful because the blades were just sharpened, alright?" you advised, looking at the myriad of cursed tools that you were going to be training with. "hm, what do you think suits your fighting style more, babe?"

yuji only tightened his grip around your waist, burying his face into your neck as he was just too focused on your body against his to even begin formulating an answer to your question. even though it was a fairly easy question to answer.

"itadori yuji," you warn, sensing that he was spacing out once again.

"noooo," he whines, squeezing you tight, "'m your baby, not itadori yuji," he complains, exaggerating his name as if it were the worst sound in the world.

"well, you're going to stay itadori yuji until you answer my question," you say, wondering why you had to disclipline your boyfriend as if he were your child. you soften up though when you hear him whine once again, burying his head deeper into your neck.

ruffling his hair as a way of comforting him, ultimately caving in to his whines and attitude, you softly say, "baby, can you just help me out really quick?"

"kisses after i do?"

"of course,"

yuji is grinning like a fool and is suddenly very intrigued in the conversation on what curse tool works best with his fighting style.

GIVE ME ITADORI YUJI AS MY BOYFRIEND and id treat him like a king, thats all im saying. he deserves so much love, please.

[billsbabydoll]

“𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝒷𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽, 𝒾 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓉ℴ 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀!”

contains:PURE SMUT<3

summary:tom looked so hot sitting there in his work studio, so as any sensible person would, i took the opportunity to anger him to his breaking point, causing him to teach me a brutal lesson.

WARNINGS:hard-dom!tom, sub!reader, teasing, pet-names, daddy kink, degrading, SLIGHT spit-play, SLIGHT choking, HEAVY dirty talk, slapping, misogyny kink, pinv (on a desk?), VERY rough sex, orgasm denial, reader is just a fucking horny slut :3.

notes:this is a very dirty, filthy, disgusting, pathetic piece of work that i felt i needed to bless you all with, enjoy bbys.

the way his fingers grazed over the keyboard…

the way his half-opened eyes tiredly focused on the screen before him…

the way his leg steadily bounced up and down to a simple rhythm…

i could stand here for hours just drooling over him.

i was currently cleaning up around our shared home, taking long breaks in between to peak into his office to just “check in” or see if he “made any progress”.in reality i was really coming in to stare at him and give him a quick peck, it was killing me not to toss that computer out of the way and make him have me right there.

infact an idea soon popped into my head, why not do just that?

in a frenzy, i quickly finished cleaning up and then changed into my silk white robe, heading into the kitchen to prepare him a sandwich and some lemonade, before stepping back into his chilling cave.

“hallo meine schatz (hello my darling).”he sighed feeling my presence approaching, turning slowly to face me, watching attentively as i set the plate and glass down next to him.

“hii babe, just wanted to bring you a little something-”i replied back with a soft grin, leaning in closer to place a kiss on his cheek, then standing back up straight.

he calmly smiled back before taking the plate into his hands and beginning to dig into the sandwich, i then moved behind him now gently rubbing his shoulders.

“tom are you almost done with whatever your working on?”i asked, feeling him suddenly tense up at my question.

“its not just ‘whatever’ this is my job, its what keeps you being my hausfrau (housewife).”he replied his mouth still full, his tone suddenly annoyed.

“im not just some little house wife-”

“your not some, your MY house wife, its best we keep it that way understood?”tom interrupts, he was deprived and restless, his temper was sure to outburst at any given chance.

“what if i dont wanna do that anymore, waiting for you hand and foot gets boring ya’ know?”i playfully laughed, i was pushing his buttons perfectly.

tom stops dead in his tracks, tossing the plate down onto the ground, harshly standing up from his seat, now towering above me, his eyes enraged and utterly furious.

“you know your fucking place alright?its here obeying me your job is to do just that, do i make myself clear?”he sternly stated, his expression stone cold.

“hmm i dunno, is it really tom?”i innocently replied, swaying back and forth refusing to give him an sort of eye-contact, i was definitely getting a kick out of tempting his temper.

in a not even a second he pushes everything off the desk, then forcefully picks me up and slams me onto his desk, my back hitting the hard-wood, his strong hands ripping my robe open.

“you wanna act fuckin’ stupid huh?!”he shouted down at me, as he speedily pulled his angry cock out of his grey-sweatpants with his left hand, his right hand keeping my legs spread wide open.

i urgently shake my head side to side, needy whimpers leaving my lips as i ache to feel his full 8-inches brutally beating my insides.

“antworte mir dumme hure(answer me stupid whore)!”he spits down at me, his saliva landing upon my cheek.

“ugh-bitte bitte ich werde brav sein, das mmh-verspreche ich(please please ill be good i promise)!”i whined, slightly scooting down to rub my folds in between his tip, my arousal acting as a sticky lubricant.

tom proceeds to move his right hand away from my legs now reaching up-wards to get a grasp around my neck, his fingers firmly squeezing my air source-

“if this is what needs to happen for you to listen like a good girl, then so be it..”

with a loud-primal grunt he fully inserts himself into my cunt, his cock deliciously filling me up inch by inch, he doesnt give me a moment to adjust before beginning to pump his member deep inside my tender walls.

“mmh-daddy t’smuchh it hurtss!”i manage to cry out, my eyes immediately watering from how hard his thick girth was hitting my cervix.

“shut up you ugh-wanted to disobey me?!this is what you fuckin’ get!”he yells at me, he lets go of his grip on my neck momentarily to give me a couple aggressive slaps to the face.

“your gonna take all of it!” slap slap “you hear me?! slap slap “useless slut!” slap slap

i continued taking in his violent attack on my pathetic body, he looked so dominant and manly taking all of his frustration out on me.he was right, if this is what it took for me to be “daddys good girl” then who was i to question him?

the desk rocks back and forth with the pace of toms brutal thrusts, the sound of our skin slapping and our mixed noises echoing through out our home, the piece of furniture creaked like it was seconds away from breaking beneath us.

his dark eyes pierced into my own, he must be enjoying the sight of me surrendering to his dominance.

“fuckkk!whos daddys little good girl eh?!”he questioned, his member suddenly throbbing inside my slick sex, his orgasm reaching right at the ledge of the edge, pleading for release.

“me me me, i-im your good girl tomuhh!”

“uhh-huh you like bein’ used like this rightt?!”

“mmhm just use me oh-god!”

his pounding soon becomes even more urgent and unbearable, he extends his arm out again his hand close to my face as previously.tom stuffs his middle and ring finger deep into my mouth, as i feel his hot load of cum suddenly shooting straight down my cervix.

“can i cum, can i cum?!”i inaudibly murmured, my pussy close to completely bursting all over his cock.

“n-no no no you dont get to cum!”

he pulls out as soon as he finishes, his fingers leaving my mouth, his white substance immediately oozing out of my hole, he didnt even give me the chance to climax.

after a few heavy groans he leans forward, his limp body collapsing on top of mine, his arms snaking around my waist, his touch now delicately and not cruel.

“i love when you fuck me like that.”i breathe out quietly.

he moves his head from my shoulder, his pussy-drunk gaze meeting mine-

“and i love doing it.”

THE END

[motorsportbarbie13]

What's A Soulmate? Part 4

In which you finally come back home.

Warnings: alcohol use. angst. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word count: 1.9k plus social media posts

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - What's a Soulmate - Part 3 - Master List

LittlestSainzSis honey, i'm home. user433 isn't it weird she's working for McLaren and not Ferrari??? >>>user3928 nope! hope this helps! user2918 press officer job right out of school? must be nice being a nepo baby >>>user328 she literally worked for Carlos and Lando for two years before going to uni at NYU??? And she has a double degree in PR and business??? >>>usesr322 just say you're jealous next time, it'll be quicker. McLaren So glad to have you back in the paddock!!

LittlestSainzSis fast cars go vroom OscarPiastri so you're who Zak was yelling at to get behind the barrier over the radio??? >>>LittlestSainzSis oops!

LittlestSainzSis that feeling when you wake up and realize it's race day!! user3928: face card never declines user298: blah blah, proper name, place name, back story stuff LandoNorris: don't let that cute face fool you, she was yelling at Oscar and I ten seconds after I took this. >>>LittlestSainzSis neither of you were listening!!! God, this is 2019 all over again, isn't it? >>>user992 ariana what are you doing hereeeeee??? >>>user9383 seriously the first time Lando's in the comments in literal years. tf??? >>>user938 so we're all just going to ignore him calling her cute??? okay???

LittlestSainzSis the boys are ready for race day!!! McLaren best press officer award goes to you bby! >>>user382 admin is unhinged today, I see user0392 i just love seeing Lando back on her feed. >>>user3938 seriously. i feel like mom and dad are back together again. >>>user3844 i'm so glad i don't have to be a child of divorce anymore.

LittlestSainzSis caught someone being a grumpy gills today during the presser. LandoNorris i was probably hungry >>>LittlestSainzSis i think oscar had just told you he was getting sushi with Lily tonight and you got all pouty >>>user948 not her selling out Lando in the comments user938 Chaos Gremlins back to terrorizing paddock! war is over!

Miami May 2024

“Fifteen times Lando Norris has stood on the podium, but never on the top step, until now! It’s a landmark day for Lando! Lando Norris wins for the first time in Formula One! It’s victory in Miami for Norris and McLaren! The British drivers dream is realized and at the 110th attempt, he’s done it! He’s won it! Look what it means to Zak Brown! At long last, Lando is your winner!” 

Tears stream down your face as you listen to Alex Jacques call the end of the race in your headphones, his voice filled with glee and excitement that matches the feeling in the McLaren garage. After yesterday’s DNF for Lando, it had been pretty doom and gloom on his side of the garage. 

Your heart had ached when you caught sight of him that afternoon, sitting in the glass enclosed conference room that the team used to go over race data. He had been all alone, spinning aimlessly in one of the chairs, face drawn and shuttered. You had wanted to go to him then but hadn’t worked up the courage. 

Things were still…delicate between the two of you. After that first night in Australia, Lando had kept his promise to win your friendship back. You more often than not found your morning coffee order sitting at your desk waiting for you during the week with a silly note written hastily on a posit in his chicken scratch writing that only you seemed to be able to decipher. 

A few treats and free coffee weren’t going to be enough to bring back that casual intimacy that you and Lando had though, you both knew that. The walls you had built up so high around your heart designed specifically for the British driver were still solidly in place and you refused to go running back into his arms so easily. 

And then, Miami happens.

The hot sticky humidity clings to your skin as you watch Lando climb out of the car behind the black and white number 1 sign, the first time he’s been able to park his Formula 1 car right in the middle of parc fermi. You’re not entirely sure where the humidity of Florida ends and the tears still falling from your eyes begins, you’re such a mess. 

If you were to think too hard about it, the fact that you were a complete puddle of jumbled up emotion would surely scare you a little. Those walls, they couldn’t be crumbling now, could they? They couldn’t be slowly tumbling down, allowing for the while possibility of allowing Lando back into your life like he had been before? 

You don’t have time to get too lost in those dangerous kinds of thoughts though because soon after he hops off the car, he’s running straight over to the garage crew and leaping into their waiting arms. He’s waited for so long for this, so many poor performances, so many mistakes and problems with the car had sent him spiraling for so many years. There had been too many nights you had spent with him when he was barely more than a teenager, sat on the floor lamenting about how shit his car was, how shit his driving was, and if he was destined to be one of those midfield drivers that never won anything in their career. 

All of those doubts are erased now and your tears are falling again as the weight of what he’s done settles over the paddock. His engineers and mechanics eventually place him back down on the ground and he’s hugging Zak next, the CEO of McLaren more of a father figure to him by now. Will gets a hug too, his engineer since he joined the team five years ago. 

And then, icy blue green eyes snag yours and everything else falls away in a muted hush. He’s smiling at you, that megawatt grin making his eyes crinkle up at the corners. It’s one of those genuine Lando smiles that you haven’t been on the receiving end of for far too long. Your heart stutters to a stop when you realize you’re his next target. What is he doing? You think frantically, mortified that you’re about to be the center of attention if he does what you think he’s going to do. 

And he does. He throws his arms around your shoulders and buries his head deep into the crook of your neck, a move that has camera shutters clicking furiously all around you. You, of course, instantly find your arms wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing him to you despite the metal barrier between you. 

“You’re here.” He sounds surprised that you’d miss this moment. 

“Of course I am. My best friend just won his first Grand Prix.” You whisper into his ear as the crowd continues to grow louder. 

Lando pulls back then, tears shining in his eyes. The weight of your words settle on his shoulders and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look at you the way he is now. He tucks a strand of hair that’s fallen out of your pony tail behind your ear, looking at you like you’ve hung both the moon and the stars in the sky just for him. “I’m so glad you got to be here for this, pretty girl.” 

God, that nickname. It’s the first time you’ve heard it in years and it does significant damage to those carefully constructed walls. 

You smile up at Lando, a little bashful that everyone is watching you two talk so closely together. He returns the smile before turning around to answer a question from one of the officials. He needs to take care of post race inspections, which he does but not before turning back and tossing a wink at you over his shoulder. 

LittleSainzSis It has been a pleasure and privlidge watching you grow over all these years. Life may have taken us in different directions over the last few years but when I say there is no place I would have rather been this afternoon, I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Your friendship means the entire world to me, Mr. Norris. I'm so proud of you. One win down, so many more to go. LandoNorris so glad you got to be there today, pretty girl xo >>>user948 WE GOT A PRETTY GIRL COMMENT. >>>user0383 i can die happy now user0832 i'm sorry but guys, she literally just friendzoned him so hard in that caption. >>>user9383 yeah, poor lando

LittlestSainzSis You're going to smell like champagne for weeks LandoNorris worth it user948 EXCUSE ME WHAT IS THAT FACE. explain yourself lando norris. user928 did we mean to post this on main ma'am??? user9482 @/littlestsainzsis giving us what we all crave: lando thirst traps. >>>littlestsainzsis don't say i never give you guys anything ever again ;) >>>user9482 omg hi queen

LittlestSainzSis find yourself a man that looks at you like Lan looks at that trophy user0382 LANNNN??? >>>user9484 I am unwell CarlosSainz He's sleeping with it tonight, isn't he? >>>LandoNorris who told you that??? user9383 i feel like i'm interrupting something here... user0309 this picture is...a choice...

The music of the Miami night club pulses through your body as you sink deeper and deeper into the VIP booth later that night. Lando hadn’t given you any room for arguments after all the media duties were done. You were coming out with him and the rest of the team to celebrate. You had barely tried to refuse, not giving him much of a fight because you secretly wanted nothing more. 

Now you sat in the leather booth situated high up in the dark Miami Beach night club that had invited Lando out the moment he had crossed the finish line earlier in the day. There were what felt like thousands of people, most of them were there to celebrate with Lando, hoping to get a glimpse of the driver. 

Alcohol burns at the back of your throat, blurring your vision nicely as you wait for Lando to return from the bar. You had insisted that he wasn’t the one who should be making drink runs tonight but he had insisted on getting you another one and hadn’t taken no for an answer. Carlos is sat next to you, nursing a drink while talking to Charles on his other side.

A small glass is set down in front of you, drawing your attention away from the DJ booth, where you had been starting. 

“Vodka sprite for my pretty girl.” Lando murmurs in your ear, the words sending a cool shiver up your spine.  

You desperately tamp down the way that being called his makes you feel. You cannot be going down that road. Not now when the friendship between the two of you is so fragile. You knew what it was like to lose him in your life and you weren’t sure if you were willing to risk losing him again. 

The same worries you had back before it all went sideways worm their way back into your consciousness. He was too important to you, too integrated into your soul that when he disappeared, it left you broken in a million pieces. You couldn’t risk that again. This had to be strictly platonic between you if it was going to work. You couldn’t afford to lose your best friend again. Those walls around your heart needed to be reinforced and brought back into working order because there was no way you could let this happen. 

“Dance with me?” The question is a husky one, whispered in your ear so no one else is privy to it. 

You know it’s dangerous. You should say no. But the vodka already in your system convinces you that it’s fine. It’s just Lando. So against your what your sober self would consider the best judgement, you feel yourself nodding, allowing Lando to tangle his fingers with yours and pull you out onto the dance floor. 

If you had been paying better attention, you would have seen the looks Carlos and Charles exchanged behind your back. They were well aware of the frosty relationship that Lando and you had over the last few years and this was a development no one had seen coming but everyone had been hoping for all the same. 

The EDM beats are strong and sensual as Lando leads you out onto the floor, hand firmly gripping yours. He finds an open spot and pulls you towards him, the heat of his body radiating off of him in waves. His hands land on your hips, fingertips gripping at your skirt a little harder than really necessary. You shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want his hands on your hips, his breath mingling with yours, his curls so dangerously close that you could easily rake your fingers through them. You shouldn’t and you can’t because he’s left you before and he could do it all over again. He’s abandoned you and didn’t come back and every sane thought in your body is screaming at you that this man is dangerous. He is dangerous to your heart and your head is thrashing around so loudly but it’s drowned out by the music. 

You simply can’t fight it when he pulls you impossibly closer, hands sliding from your hips lower, lower, lower until it’s almost indecent. The alcohol blurs the edges of your usually sharp judgement and it’s not helped by the fact that this man seems to have cast a spell over you. You can’t want this. Can’t love how the weight of his hands feel on your skin. Can’t adore how his lips tick up at the edges when he sees you walk into the garage during a race weekend. 

This is Lando after all. Your best friend. Your best friend who abandoned you once and had only barely just come back begging for forgiveness. You can’t allow him to knock down those walls so quickly, can you? 

His lips flutter over the damp skin at your temple, dusting the slightest kiss there, almost as if it’s a test. A test to see if you push him away or allow him in. 

A test that you fail. 

Because the moment his lips touch your skin, it feels like a bucked of ice water has been splashed over your head and you realize what the fuck you’re doing. Its too hot. Too close. Too much and you simply can’t have him touching you anymore. No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. Panic races through you as you stumble back out of his arms, logic finally winning out over your own heart’s stupidity. 

The delicate balance you had struck with him shatters in an instant because you both knew there was supposed to be more between you but you’re desperately scared and Lando is so wretchedly full of regret he can’t stand it. 

“I’m sorry.” Is all you manage to choke out before fleeing. 

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00 @mixedstyles @strawberryy-kiwii @secret-agents-stole-my-bunnies @unknownmystery22 @mrosales16 @charlesgirl16

(Some of the tags aren't working? LMK if you want to be added/removed but I'm like 99% certain I have everyone!)

[kiestrokes]

Day 14: Yang Jeongin | NSFW

▸ Idol: Yang Jeogin of SKZ ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: a hard hour that got away from me, drabble, smut, little brothers best friend AU. ▸ Vibe: reader has a corruption kink and their little brothers best friend is really testing their control this holiday season. ▸ Warnings: language, slight age gap like five-ish years, drinking, club scene.

Sexually Explicit Content: CORRUPTION KINK DNI if this is not something you vibe with, kissing, groping/fondling, slight sub/dom dynamics, masturbation (male), mischievous turn of events.

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. Happy wipmas 🤗 @minttangerines is once again at fault for their bby bread agenda, thank you to Luce, @chans-room and @minisugakoobies for your input on the direction of the story.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

Jeongin.

Your brain hissed the name of your little brothers best friend, as he appeared in your line of sight. Through the undulating bodies, strobing multicolored lights and pulse of the speakers.

In the last week of being home for a visit with your family, he had been everywhere. Inescapable. No longer the thin, shy boy with sometimes snarky remarks. He had grown into his body.

A body that apparently he had no issues in constantly showing off. You were downstairs meticulously pouring creamer into your coffee, watching it for the right shade of caramel, when he appeared. Shirtless. Gray sweats hanging loose around his cut hips. Creamer spilled across your hand and on to the counter.

Jeongin had laughed your name then, rushing over to help you clean the mess. When all you wanted to do was scream for his half naked body to get away.

The pattern continued on like this over the last week. Jeongin choosing to nestle himself between you and your baby brother on movie night. The heat of his warm thigh seeping into your toes through the protective blanket shield, as you had your knees tucked under you for comfort. How he had sweetly asked to share the blanket with you, his hands underneath, resting on your bare ankle.

Your control and grip on reality slowly slinking away as your urge for depravity started to rear its ugly, seductive head. After watching polite and coy Jeongin interact with your other family members and childhood friends. Your teeth tingled at the thought of showing him an taboo side of things he probably never knew to exist.

"Noona!"

Suddenly that timid pup, turned sly fox had made the decision to approach you first. You assumed it was out of courtesy, being you had been gawking at him for the last five minutes.

"Jeongin, my friends and I have a private room upstairs would you like to join us?"

A familiar dimpled grin greets you in answer, you take his hand and guide him towards the stairs for the bottle service suites.

The two of you spend the night with your friends, catching up on his new role at work, introducing him to new liquors and tinctures of familiar ones. His thigh purposefully pressed into yours at all times. You read this as his bashfulness still bleeding through, and your stomach tightens as the urge to exploit flames across you.

"Noona," Jeongin calls, hand tugging your arm so that you will turn back to him from your conversation with a previous male classmate.

"Can I have a sip?"

He is pulling the wrist holding you glass towards him, your knee slots ever so slightly between his thighs to accommodate the angle he is asking and your willpower dissipates when he opens his knees to you.

"You're being quite needy," you tease, leaning in to squish his flushed cheeks and place the cup to his lips.

Jeongin drinks the entire glass under your unspoken instruction. His foxlike eyes boring into yours, asking, begging for more. You arrange a ride on your phone before pouring yourself another, much stronger drink.

The car ride is thick with the promise of more, Jeongin's hand interlaced with yours on his thigh. A quiet move, stating you were the one in control and that he was your submissive.

The two of you stumble into your bedroom, the house empty tonight as the rest of your family was attending your Aunt's annual holiday party. Jeongin sprawls to a sitting position on your bed, legs opened wide, head lifted and eyes on you, calling you in.

"Jeongin-" you step between his open thighs, raking a hand through his shaggy hair.

He tilts his face upwards, sitting up taller, "noona."

His hands ghost on the outside of your body, not touching, but asking wordlessly for permission to touch. You groan, climbing into his lap and grasping one of his hands to press it into your ass. That is half bared to him, where your dress rucked itself up.

Jeongin moans your name, fingers biting into the bare cheek of your ass as he tumbles back onto the bed just as your lips ghost over his.

"The room is spinning."

You cannot stop the tipsy giggle that leaves your lips at his confession. A paradox for how his hands are greedily trying to roll your hips into his trapped erection.

Sitting up, you press your full weight into his pelvis, hands moving to undo what few buttons are left to be opened on his shirt. Jeongin groans underneath you, bucking into your weight.

"Shhh, don't get so worked up just yet," you kiss his cheekbone before sitting back, "sit up for me."

Jeongin obeys, and you help him out of his shirt, leaving his lap to carefully drape it across your desk chair. Stripping out of your clothes as he watches, until you're naked in front of him and he moves to reach for you but you brush him off.

Bipassing his reaching arms to rifle through your suitcase, plucking out a pair of soft boy shorts and your favorite oversized t-shirt.

"Noona-" Jeongin calls, his voice tainted with the faintest whine.

You come into his space then, planting a soft kiss to his lips and down his cheek, along his jaw and neck. As your hands work to unbutton his jeans, he lifts his hips with your guidance and you gift him another soft kiss before pulling away to neatly fold his pants and place them on the chair with your other discarded clothing.

Jeongin rolls his socks off himself, standing up and placing them to join the others. The air between the two of you fizzes with anticipation. Slowly, tauntingly you reach up to cup him through his briefs, watching as his head kicks back with a pitchy groan.

"Oh," you cannot help the disappointment that bleeds into the word.

"Just give me a minute, its all of the alcohol."

"Come on."

You lead him to the bed, "I expected something like this, lets just sleep it off for a bit."

Jeongin nods in disappointment as he climbs in next to you under the covers. You groan, wrapping yourself around him as planting another kiss to his lips but pulling away before he can deepen it. Jeognin nuzzles into your chest, the booze effectively pushing him into a deep slumber

Your awoken to the sound of a car door slamming the next morning, jerking back into Jeongin. He grumbles nestling his erection into you ass as his arms tighten around your stomach.

"Jeognin-"

He lets out a sleepy click of his tongue, one hand slipping under your shirt to trace circles with his thumb on your stomach and the other roughly cupping your breast through the threadbare t-shirt.

You gasp, ass kicking back into his hips as he pinches your nipple. His other hand teasing he band of your panties. You clutch his hand to stop it and he groans, rubbing against you with this newfound embrace.

"I think everyone is home."

"I don't care-" Jeongin's teeth tug at the shell of your ear and you pant quietly in response.

Your hips rocking right along with his, teetering on the edge of your corruption kink and being the respectful eldest daughter. The first winning out when he whines your name into the side of your throat.

His fingers drift over your thighs and you tug them away from their destination and he moves off in a different direction. Palming your bare breast, stroking your lips, fisting your ass.

You groan, rolling over in his arms to caress every inch of his toned front. Finally letting him pull your mouth to his is a desperate kiss. Mouths open to each other, tongues swirling and teeth biting. Your fingers travel across his toned back, down to squeeze his firm ass.

Jeongin moaning into your mouth, melting at every touch and stoke of your tongue. His impatient hand grabs your wrists, pressing it into his still clothed erection. You give it a firm squeeze before pulling away.

"We can't- not now."

Jeongin lets out a long whine, snatching both wrists and pinning you on your back to the bed.

"In-ah," you gasp.

His head diving to leave open mouth kisses down your neck, his hips rolling into your pelvis, cock pressing into your damp panties, pushing up your shirt to squeeze your breast.

"Noona, just let me-" he finally succeeds in cupping your pussy, lifting his head to watch as you bow into him with a silent gasp.

"We can't."

Jeongin drags his knuckles roughly over your clothed clit, causing you to convulse. Your nails biting into his forearm, as her hips rut on their own accord into his fist.

"You sure?"

Jeongin grips your jaw, diving in to kiss you again when someone walks past your locked door. You freeze, cheek snapping towards the noise. You know its your brother by the sound of his dragging feet and you have his best friend on top of you.

You press both hands to his chest, "we can't, not now."

Jeongin stiffly moves off of you and you slip out of the bed, not even glancing back or speaking to him. You strip out of your clothes, leaving them scattered on the floor and slip into your on suite bathroom for a shower.

Jeongin groans, raking a hand down his face, down his abdomen and into his boxers. He can't believe after all his planning he still didn't get to experience you.

Jeongin had caught glimpses over the years, behind doors that hadn't full closed, in the school theatre when you and whatever lucky partner happened to be with you thought no one was home. How you teases and taunted the shy (fit) boys into submission. Had them coming so hard from orgasm denial, all over themselves.

You had a type and Jeongin knew he was halfway there, he just needed to focus on building his body. But he had accomplished that by twenty-one, yet you still wouldn't give him the attention he so desperately sought. So he decided he would have to use your own kink against you, slinking into a little corrupting himself.

Things were going so well until the alcohol hit his dick last night. He grunts, fisting himself hard, giving himself a frustrating tug when another idea hits.

Jeongin sits up, quickly kicking out of his boxers, he tucks them under your pillow, damp with your own arousal and his precum. Stiffly he walks over to retrieve your discarded panties from the floor. Lifting them to his nose, the salty almost cloudy scent of your essence floods his tongue and goes straight to his balls.

Jeongin reclaims his seat on the edge of your bed, your boy shorts clutched in one hand as he steals a pump of your lotion from the bedside table. Moaning as your scent fills the room, jasmine and ylang ylang. He strokes the lotion over his leaking cock. Head kicking back as the thoughts take over.

You're pinning him to the bed, soft pussy slicking up his cock until he's delirious, begging you to let him inside. You want him to come first, but he wants to come inside you to mix his release with yours, to claim you. He's fighting himself not to give in to your touch.

Jeongin's hips buck into his hand as he barrels towards his release, teeth biting into his lip to trap his whines inside until one last thrust he releases into your panties with a winded cry.

Chest heaving, he folds them neatly, setting your soiled panties aside so he can dress, sans boxers before stashing your underwear into the back pocket of his slacks and exiting your bedroom.

You cannot stand when things aren't in your control, when things are messy and especially when your favorite pair of sleep panties go missing.

Jeongin's heatbeat is in his throat as he sneaks out of your families home, a place he is much more accustomed to sneaking into. Both of your parents groaning about hangovers around the coffee pot in the kitchen. Your brother was probably sleeping face down in his unmade bed upstairs, winter coat still on.

Now it was just a waiting game.

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[feinv]

John Wick x fem!reader pleaseeee 🥺 angst angst angst

turned out longer than planned. hope u like it bby <3

john wick x female!reader. fluff. angst. mentions of wounds. reader can’t stand up for herself bear with her.

he has been taking more jobs lately, more often than not getting out of bed at an early hour when the sun was just peeking over the horizon, and coming back well past midnight, leaving you all by yourself in the walls of your big mansion.

you were on the couch, legs crossed as you watched him put on his bulletproof vest before packing his body with guns, rifles, and knives. you could already feel the tears threatening to burst, but decided to speak up anyway. “could you stay?”

his head snapped towards you, stopping in his actions, “what?”

“n-not right now i mean…in general. could you stay home more? you are always away…” you explained, fighting everything in you not sound like a fool, whispering the last part more to yourself than him.

his eyes went back to his firearms as he continued getting ready, “you knew what my job was when we started dating. don't act like i blindsided you,” sounding like a harsh statement.

oh. you were taken aback by his serious tone, unsure how to react since he never talked to you like that before. but again, you didn’t really engage in an actual conversation with him this past month, so it was hard to say if he was acting unlike him or exactly like him.

“why are you complaining now?” you flinched at his harsh tone, snapping out of your thoughts, "my work takes up a lot of my time, and you were aware of that,” circling around to get his full magazines, “I can't just drop everything for you,” annoyance dripping from his voice.

your eyes were following his movements, immediately focusing at something else when he looked back at your figure. “i know that. but that doesn’t mean i can’t want more time with you. is that too much to ask for?” you anxiously fidgeted with your fingers, silent tears now streaming down your face.

john felt a tingle of empathy for you, but his anger and defensiveness got the best of him, and he retorted, “don’t guilt trip me for doing my job.”

“can you just…take one or two a week?” your face etched with pain and frustration, voice cracking as that lump in your throat just won’t let go.

“my reputation is on the line here. taking days off isn't practical," he dismissed you, closing the locks of his artillery filled case.

“please, john. just hear me ou-”

“no,” he cut you off spitefully, heading towards the door and muttering “don’t stay up for me,” before slamming it shut, unbearable solitude enveloping you once again.

3:17 am

naturally you would’ve been asleep by now, but you couldn’t stop wetting the pillows after your fight, turning and tossing around in the bed, trying to doze off, but nothing could help.

you heard the tires of his mustang drift against the gravelly porch of your house, followed by the sound of the front door opening, then closing.

you could hear him pouring himself a glass of bourbon and crashing down on a couch with a heavy sigh. having memorized all his routines, you knew he wasn’t the one to drink after job unless he needed a painkiller. and despite him shattering your heart today, it still ached with worry. you got out of the covers and took the first aid kit from the bathroom before slowly making your way to the living area.

you stood there, like an awkward child, contemplating if you should just drop it and leave him like he left you, or following your heart. you settled on the latter. he heard your footsteps before your form came into his vision, craning his neck to acknowledge your presence, dark eyes scanning your body as you approached him, straddling his lap and opening up the kit.

his face was littered with wounds, some not too serious, others cut quite deeply, his once slicked backed hair disheveled with a few strands covered in dried blood.

with a trembling sigh leaving your chest, you started working on cleaning his face, dabbing it gently with alcohol dipped cotton ball.

“told you not to stay up,” he murmured before eliciting a wince at one of the deep cuts. your cheeks were wet again, and you didn’t even know why were you crying anymore. because he was hurting? because he hurt you?

it didn’t matter as his thumb wiped at your soft skin, his deep voice whispering in the dark, “i’m sorry.”

you stayed silent the entire time, refusing to squeal a sound at the fear of making a total clown out of yourself.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart. i’m an idiot,” he continued, his other hand gently caressing your thigh, “don’t cry because of me,” which made you break down completely, stopping your actions and burying your face in his chest.

he wrapped his arms around you, holding you as you weeped, rubbing your back in soothing circles. “i’ll do as you wish. i promise,” he stated in your ear, whispering i love you as you cried yourself to sleep in his strong embrace.

[holy-puckslibrary]

— 𝐯𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐬.

pairing(s) — dilf!ERIK JOHNSON x ex-nanny!wife!reader (established); REESE JOHNSON (oc) x ex-nanny!stepmom!reader (platonic / familial)

wc — 4.7k synopsis — family weekend forces reese’s worlds to collide. results are… mixed note — i just really love reese. that's it :) and how dilfy does mr johnson look in that gif good lord

the nanny (series masterlist) | main masterlist

content warnings under the cut.

cw — age gap relationship (erik and the reader, established), vulgar college boys with no respect, busy-bodies who cannot mind their own beeswax, possessive!erik, pregnant!reader (not discussed in detail), sweet bby reese in peril :(

REESE JOHNSON has a problem.

It’s the sort of anxiety-trodden predicament that could’ve been soothed into nothingness had he spoken up sooner. He didn’t because he couldn’t. That was part of the problem. 

And now it’s too late—for solutions or comfort.

The teen, now a second-semester freshman at the University of Denver, had long since adjusted to the heightened scrutiny of his family in the early days of your relationship with his father. Everyone online had to throw in their two cents on the “illicit affair.” Even people who didn’t give a shit about hockey (evidenced by their inability to name a single team) felt they had a right to weasel their way in. While irritating and uncomfortable, the harsh reads didn’t bother him for too long because Reese knew the truth.

He also knew how unnecessarily ruthless people could be when they had a screen to hide behind. The son of a prominent figure in professional sports, Reese knew people stared at him through a very particular lens. It veered toward a rosy sheen every so often, but mostly it was smudged glass. Like a fish tank whose walls were muddy with the greasy impressions spectators left behind. Strangers offering commentary on his father’s life, and by extension his too, was part of the gig.

Frankly, the aftermath wasn’t much different than before. Only the subject matter changed. If it wasn’t thinly veiled insults about Erik’s waning career or his prior inability to keep a girlfriend, it was overly critical evaluations of Reese’s prowess or lack thereof and, unsurprisingly, comparisons between father and son. Without fail, the verbiage and tone implied competition, hinting that their healthy bond was only a bit of showmanship to hide the rocky resentment beneath.

This weekend is different. Sure, his teammates and friends had already gotten ample face-time with both of his parents, as well as his kid sister, but never all at once. Though they all did their best to coordinate, busy schedules rendered a revolving cheering section for Reese Johnson. 

This weekend—family weekend—will change that. By some stroke of luck (or a cruel twist of fate, the jury's still out on that one), everyone would be here… together. And that’s not to say he isn’t grateful for their effort or that he isn’t excited because he is. Reese is thrilled to share this new slice of life with his loved ones. It’s just that…

Reese knows how it looks when they venture out into the world.

Not that his dad is exactly old or even old-looking. In the same way you aren’t questionably young. Still, the age difference is noticeable. Before you were more than a nanny to the Johnsons (if you were ever just a nanny to begin with), it was easier for on-lookers to assess the dynamic, and still, albeit seldomly, they would drum up gossip. Things got remarkably more awkward, though, after his father finally plucked up the courage to propose, and increased tenfold once Erik had a gold band to match. It was as if the wedding ushered in the open season on Johnsons.

More times than he cared to count, Reese found himself cupping Josie’s ears to keep his little sister from hearing jeering crowds calling their dad an old pervert and you a shameless gold-digger. No one’s had to explain what a “sugar daddy” is (or why it's the first thing that auto-populates when you plug ‘Erik Johnson’ into Google), but the burden would’ve fallen on Reese if he hadn’t left her in the car while he ran in to grab a takeout order last summer.

But Erik’s eldest isn’t just worried about his family existing outside the warmth and safety of their insulated bubble. His sleepless nights are filled with fear. Fear of the pain and sadness he’ll undoubtedly feel about it all now that he sees you less as his friend and more as a maternal figure.

Reese’s always been protective; it's led to many a fight with his own father and, sometimes, his own sister. He’s the first to rush to your aid and the strongest force in your defense. The habit, however,  strengthened when his perspective shifted as swiftly as flipping a switch. 

Suddenly, you weren’t just his dad’s girlfriend or the person who made him pancakes in the morning. Or the savior who dropped off his English paper because he was in such a hurry he left it on the printer. You were a confidant, someone he called for when he was in a bad spot or when he wanted to see the latest mind-numbingly bad action flick. When he asked his date to prom, it was you he wanted help from. When Reese was sick, your home remedies worked better than anything store-bought or concocted by his dad. When practice ran over, he could count on you to wait up with his dinner hot and ready, the rest of the house already fast asleep. 

For the first time since he could remember, the Dad-shaped gap wasn’t devastating. It hurt like a bitch, but it was bearable because he had another adult—another parent—he could rely on. In every sense of the word, you were his mom.

And no one wants to hear disgusting lies about their mom.

However, Reese hasn’t called you that yet. At least, not to your face. In passing to his childhood friends or when referring to you with Josie, sure, and once or twice over the phone with Erik, but when he calls for you, he uses your first name like he's still your “nanny-kid.” But it's not for a lack of trying. It’s just that every time he thinks he’s worked up the nerve, the three letters catch in his throat like molasses, and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. 

Moments like those are the rare few he wishes he were Josie instead of himself. His jovial spitfire of a sister never missed a chance. During her lunch block with classmates, on the phone with their extended family, to strangers at Avs games, or on the sidewalk, the moniker slipped off Josie Johnson’s tongue like water down a slide. Their dad liked to poke fun, warning her to be careful so as not to wear it out from overuse.

Maybe it was the sister snuggled in your stomach that tightened his throat. The baby that could and would call you “Mom” with little effort beyond mastering the string of sound. The baby that would grow up not knowing you as anything besides her mother. It was a shade of ownership Reese felt hesitant to touch. No matter how desperately he yearned to.

The closest he’s come is penning in the title beneath your name on the lanyard that’ll hang from your neck for upcoming festivities. It was a small gesture. Still, it felt like too much and not enough all at once.

Reese is caught between wanting to honor the bond and all you’ve done with the accurate label and the fear of explicitly acknowledging it stirs in his chest. At least in this limbo of sorts, as cumbersome as it's become, Reese can have what he’s always wanted and keep you in his life without risking capsizing the boat with an awkward declaration. It’s an uneasy compromise, but it's the devil he knows. At least he knows what and when to feed it.

Reese hates that he’s letting his worries dictate his life. It's just… hard. No one tells kids how to navigate gaining a new parent or any of the baggage that unique situation carries. No one tells kids how to trust the position’s new occupant not to follow in their predecessor’s footsteps. In his heart, Reese knows you won’t run. But knowing that doesn’t shut down the nagging voice in the back of his mind. The one that drones on like a broken record, telling him that the burden of the word, knotted with his expectations, will be his family’s unraveling.

He couldn’t do that to Josie. To his dad. Or to you and the little sister you’re carrying. 

So, he’ll stomach it. For how long, Reese isn’t sure. But, for now, he’ll stand on the outskirts of the minefield, bidding time.

"Johnson! Your whole family's coming, right?" Kody, a junior defenseman from Fort Collins, yanks Reese from his downward spiral.

The last place he wants to be right now is out in the world. The last thing he needs is to cannonball himself back into the fishbowl. Even if the phantom audience never spoke to him, sometimes their heavy attention pushing into his back was enough to send Reese reeling.

But he made a promise to make more of an effort. To be more social, to have more fun—to take life a little less seriously. 

In his mind, if he was at school to learn and play hockey, there was little room to wiggle. Sure, Reese has had his fair share of adolescent recklessness and could lean toward boyish immaturity at times, but at his core, he was a rule-follower. A responsibility fiend with a penchant for playing the white knight. A stickler for structure. When given the choice between a teenage dream and a full-grown reality, the freshman chose the latter nine times out of ten. 

Reese Johnson’s moral compass weighs down his back pocket; he feels most at peace when things fit neatly into their proper boxes. Good and bad, black and white. One or the other, never both.

Stress and anxiety exacerbate his mental rigidity. And he’s been so fucking far from zen lately.

Reese would’ve broken the stupid promise if it’d been made to anyone besides you. So, when a few of the upperclassmen on the team appeared at his dorm with an invitation to get pizza, he begrudgingly accepted.

It isn’t so bad. Far from awful this far. Definitely not the worst way to spend an evening. His teammates were alright enough guys, and their girlfriends weren’t as callous as he’d expected. Reese just found it hard to connect with them, a situation that couldn’t be more different than his previous team experience. 

With his childhood friends, it all clicked. Fell into place without much real effort from any of them. There was an awkward period, but it ended within the first month and, honestly, had more to do with prepubescent cringe than anything.

An entire semester came and went, and Reese still felt like an outsider. When he looked out onto the ice, he saw a sea of strangers. They had different interests, different priorities. Inside jokes he wasn’t in on. Ones he wasn’t sure he wanted to be in on. Even their sense of decorum was foreign. He was well-acquainted with profanity and vulgar jibes, but Reese’s neck still occasionally heats at their… colorful chirps.

But maybe this will be a good step, Reese thinks to himself as he clears the nerves from his throat, making room for an answer to Kody’s question.

“Uh, yeah. My parents and my little sister,” he nods. The blip of quiet that follows coaxes out further details. “They’re going to skip the mixer-campout thing tomorrow night because of the baby, but they’ll be at the student fair and our scrimmage the next day.”

It feels odd to talk about his family. The words, somehow both intensely personal and casual at the same time, taste funny on his tongue. Reese’s stomach clenches, suddenly too aware that he’s never really had to do this before, the small talk. Back home, everyone knows everyone. There’s little to talk about by way of mundane facts because there’s no need; it would be incredibly redundant. His friends from home wouldn’t think to ask if his family was coming, nor would they nudge him to share their schedule. They’d just know.

Reese is aware that this is a silly thing to get worked up over, or even care about at all. He knows it’s part of the process. Part of making new friends is letting them know you. Telling them about yourself and your life, and all the people in your life. Especially the ones you love. Offering up bits of yourself in exchange for bits of them. Still, it's unsettling. Like he’s inviting a group of strangers to pass judgment on his unconventional family. 

No one’s said anything, but Reese already feels defensive. 

And rightly so, he’d soon find.

"That was quick."

Lane, a senior forward from some beach town in California, draws first blood. The quip seems innocuous, but the shit-eating grin undermines any plausible deniability. Even without his smug expression, they probably would’ve understood the implication lurking below the surface anyway. 

It isn’t the isolated comment that burns the tips of Reese’s ears. It’s the fact that he’s never spoken about the circumstances or the timeline of your relationship with his father. Reese hasn’t tried to hide anything, but he certainly hasn’t been forthcoming either. For all they knew, you could’ve been Josie’s biological mother. A long shot, but feasible enough if you didn't know any better. 

But somehow, this kid from out of state knew. Knew that, by “traditional” standards, it was a little soon for his parents to be welcoming a new life.

"Can you blame him? Hot young thing at your beck and call?” Kent, a sophomore from outside of Toronto, cuts in before Reese can. 

The lecherous glint in the winger’s tone makes his skin crawl. He doesn’t need to look up from his half-eaten slice of Hawaiian to know his mouth matches Lane’s.

“Fuck, dude. I would've knocked her up before she dragged me down the aisle. But, I've heard Viagra massacres your swimmers, so maybe that wasn’t in the cards for Ol’ Johnson.”

The group, crowded around a hodgepodge of tables, descends into a fit of snickers and profanity.

Reese contemplates leaving until a manicured hand gently squeezes his arm. Callahan Graham blinks up at him, a sweet smile tight on her rosy mouth. Callahan “Callie” Graham, Lane’s on-again-off-again girlfriend of three years. They’re “off” right now, if he’s remembering correctly. Not that it matters. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Reese’s chin dips in gratitude.

From across the table, Callie’s roommate, Greer, pipes up over the commotion. “I hope I'm as cute as she is when I'm pregnant."

"Me too," Bree, one of the other girlfriends, sighs dreamily into her Diet Coke. "I couldn't believe how pretty she looked the last time she brought Josie to watch you play, Reese. If I was pregnant and holding down a two-kid fort by all by myself for most of the year, I know I'd look it. But I guess that’s just another perk of true love, isn’t it? Beauty in spite of it all.”

Kent snorts. “True love…right.”

Reese’s molars pinch together. Beneath the table, he picks at his nails. It hurts, but it's the distraction he needs right now.

"It's not like being a trophy wife is a real job anyway, so I'm sure that helps. Just lie back and spread those pretty—"

Reese’s fist finishes Lane’s sentence. As badly as he wants to put it through the douchebag’s face, he (thankfully) had the foresight to direct his anger downward. It was the succinct thwack! of his hand against the table that cut the lewd thought off prematurely. 

Reese is a striking juxtaposition; hardened jaw, sharp eyes, pinched mouth—silent. Only his chest moves. Shallowly, the accent on the exhalations.

For a moment, everything is still. It’s nice. While it lasts.

Kody is the one to crack the ill-fated stalemate. Trepidation peeking through the tiny cracks in his smooth confidence, he approaches like a hunter would an agitated deer, “Loosen up, Reese. We're just having fun. And, if anything, it's a compliment."

Reese openly glares, unconvinced.

Kody persists, deadset on being the one to subdue the beast. “Come on, even you have to admit your dad's locked down a fuckin’ tenner. A real win for Team Geriatric, I’d say. You should be proud of him, kid.”

This isn’t the first time someone’s prodded Reese about your physical appearance. He wasn’t blind. He knew you were attractive, but you’d never entered that part of his brain before. Ever. It's as if his subconscious preemptively locked you away in the same box as his dad and kid sister, or any other family member. But they weren’t asking if he thought you were pretty, not really.

The omnipresent “They” wanted to know if he thought you were attractive the way he thought Pedro Pascal or Olivia Rodrigo was attractive. They wanted to know if he felt the way his dad felt about you. They’re probing for a twisted scandal, a sick taboo love triangle. As if they weren’t already gorging themselves on the age difference or the boss/employee origin story. 

They wanted more. They always wanted more. They wanted to take one of the best parts about Reese’s life and fuck it up.

His teammates are proving themselves no different than the losers populating Twitter.

“She ever read to you a story before bed?” Lane again.

Then Kent, in quick succession. “Tuck you in nice and tight, and come running when you had a nightmare?”

There’s barely enough time between the two to squeeze in a meager answer. Though Reese surmises that’s by design. 

Innuendos are funnier when they have a single target in the audience to fly over. At least, to people with cheap senses of humor. Easy laughs are no accomplishment when they weaponize the feelings of an innocent bystander. Even in his anger, Reese wouldn’t have humored them with a doe-eyed reply of feigned ignorance. It wasn't earned. 

“If I got to spend all of high school being coddled by a rocket, I'd still be milking that shit. Maybe if you had, she would've fucked you instead of your dad."

Reese’s brow shrinks to a contemptuous pinch. It wouldn’t take much for him to be reacquainted with his dinner; it’s already halfway there. 

As he looks over at Kody, he loses what little hope he had that he’d find a place in this friend group. He hasn’t found his people yet, on the team or in general, but Reese is certain they’re not sitting around him tonight.

"How far along's your mom?" Callie seizes the conversation knowingly.

Briefly, her pale eyes slice pointedly in the direction of her… whatever Lane is to her, and then back to Reese, warmth restored.

"Uh, almost seven months? But Josie and I were both late, so Dad thinks we'll have to wait until the end of summer until she's here. Maybe they’ll share a birthday.”

"She?" one of the freshman girls squeals, clutching her companion’s forearm in excitement.

"Yeah," Reese says bashfully, head dipping to conceal the grin tugging the corners of his mouth. The meat of his cheeks ache with joy. “Two sisters."

"I give Johnson Sr. six months before he puts the moves on Nanny 2.0,” Lane’s whisper pierces the lukewarm calm that settled the table at his… Callie’s hand. 

She kicks his shin. Hard.

"You really think the old timer's game is that reliable?" Kent picks up the slack between open-mouth chews.

And Kody is not far behind, “He's decently famous and moderately rich. That was enough the first time, so why wouldn't it work for the second? Or, Junior, maybe this next one can be yours—if you pull your head out of your ass in time, that is."

Reese is done. Has met—no, exceeded his limit. He doesn’t have to sit here and take this. Yeah, it would be better for the locker-room culture if he stuck around, but a boost in morale wasn’t worth the decimation of his pride.

His goodbye is simple but effective. The deafening screeeeech! of his chair sliding back on the linoleum.

The sidewalk is blurry beneath his feet as he trudges back to safety. Whether it's the tears’ fault or how quickly he’s running, Reese can’t be sure. All he knows is that he needs to be as far away from them as possible.

He needs… he needs…

Reese’s fingers tremble defiantly while he fishes for his phone. He continues to fight with them, shoving his key into the door and pushing it open with the other as he scrolls through the call log. He slams the world out and hits the green icon.

“Reese? Are you okay?” your groggy, but no less sweet voice flits through his phone. 

Only two rings. 

Reese’s shoulders melt, comforted by the familiar warmth of what home sounds like. But his mouth remains frozen, stuck. 

You allow a few beats of silence to lapse, giving him ample space to answer if he is able and wants to before speaking again. “Do we need to come up tonight?”

He blinks, attempting to wash away the salty film over his eyes to read the clock above his desk. 1:37 AM, the angry red letters read. 

Guilt seeps into the mix of nasty emotions monopolizing his body. The acidic cocktail begins its ascent of his tender throat.

You shouldn’t be up right now. Not this late, not when his sister’s made you an insomniac for so much of your pregnancy. Not because someone was mean to him.

Reese feels like an asshole. An inconsiderate asshole bothering you with his problems in the middle of the night, knowing you’re already sacrificing your weekend for him.

“Fuck, I’m sorry for waking you and the baby, and probably Dad, too. I—It's nothing, really. It can wait. We can talk about it when it's not, y’know, the middle of the night.”

“Reese, no one sets off the alarm on my Bullshit Radar faster than you do. You wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t urgent. Talk to me, Reeses Pieces. You know I won’t be able to go back to sleep knowing you’re not alright.”

Reeses Pieces. The nickname, said with such casual affection, is like a magic wand.

“Uh— I-I, um… I had a, um, a r-really bad night… and I— and I just really needed to hear y-your voice, Mom.”

It slips out. Slips free. It just… slips into the mix with all the other words like it belongs there, too. And it does. It feels right. Reese feels a twinge of satisfaction. Regardless of the circumstances (and the night he’s had), it happened.

It finally happened.

The floor crumbles a little and gentle flames lick at Reese’s cheeks. His phone feels as though it's floating up and away from his clammy palm. He’s telling his fingers to tighten their grip, to hold on. They hesitate, and when they finally decide to obey, it only makes matters worse. He fumbles, nearly dropping his phone to the floor. The elephant easing down onto his chest is making it hard to focus, to think, to listen. 

“Reese? Did I lose you, bub?”

He blinks himself out of the daze. “Hmm? No, I—I, sorry. I’m here.”

“Oh, Reesey. I was just saying I was glad you called then. I mean, I always love it when you call. Even when it’s to tell me you sent your Airpods through the washing machine. Again.”

Reese barks out a phlegmy laugh.

Note to self: the rice hack only works the first time you let your electronics go for a swim.

Second note to self: this reaction—this non-reaction is better than any teary blubbering or callous rejection. Normalcy doesn’t require a reaction.

“You can always, always call me. Especially when you’re having a rough time. Even when it's the middle of the night. My main priority in life is making sure you’re safe and happy, you and JoJo. And the peanut sitting on my bladder. And the 6’4 blanket-hog snoring like a hacksaw beside me.”

“Maybe we should get Dad a sleep study coupon for his birthday,” Reese teases.

He feels better now. You, and finally being courageous enough to be vulnerable, was the medicine. Reese feels lighter than he has since you dropped him off in September.

You snort. “I’ll gladly pay to see your dad covered in wires. But, as much as I love laughing at his expense when he’s none-the-wiser, that's not why you called. Spill it.”

He does. The spiel tumbles out like an overdue avalanche, and Reese hardly realizes how quickly he’d been talking until he finishes with burning lungs. You listened patiently, letting him get it all out without interruption. You were good about that, knowing when someone needed room to rant more than they needed interjections with guidance or commentary. Reese usually fell in the first category, tonight being no exception.

“…I just don’t get why they found it so funny. Or why they even thought to say it in the first place. It's so...gross.”

He listens to you sigh and knows you’re doing it through your teeth. You’re probably massaging the waves of frustration between your eyebrows, nose scrunched. Josie calls it your ‘Dragon Face’ because of the way frustration contorts your features, but Reese adopted the term into his own lexicon because it almost always appeared when someone threatened the safety of your family. Like him, you’re generous with your protection. Fierce without delay. 

“Because you aren’t them, Reese. You’ve always had a strong sense of right and wrong, respectful and not. And you’re rarely swept up by group-think, if ever. Those things may feel like a curse right now, but I promise they’ll be superpowers one day.”

“I wish I could fast-forward to that day. This sucks,” he groans, tossing himself backward onto his twin bed.

“It does suck. Majorly. Still, even if you had time travel in your vast arsenal of powers, I’d tell you to stay put, Reese. Part of college is learning how to deal with immature people, building up a tolerance for their bullshit as you grow stronger and more confident in yourself.”

“But I’m not strong. I ran away crying like a little baby,” Reese croaks into his pillow. A warm saltiness tickles his eyelashes.

“You removed yourself from a bad situation, and you let yourself feel your feelings in the present tense. Those are both huge wins in my book,” you counter.

Your voice is louder now, stronger. Like coaxing Reese—coaxing your son out of a pit of self-pity breathed all the energy you lacked for the better part of a year back into you. The subtle shift whittles away some of his earlier guilt.

“It takes guts to do that, Reese. Most people spend years trying to learn what you did instinctively. Some people never learn to do it at all. And don’t tell anyone, but I’d put money on Kody, Lane, and Kent being some people.”

Reese snorts. “I know you’re right, but I think what’s actually bugging me is that you guys’ll be subjected to that shit this weekend. It’s one thing for them to say it to me, but it’s another to say it to you or in front of JoJo. I hate that people care so much about us and our business that they can’t keep their mouths shut. If you don’t feel comfortable coming now, I would totally understand. Fuck, if I were you, I’d never visit again. Maybe I could come home this weekend instead?”

“Reese, as sweet as that is, the only thing that’ll stop me from coming this weekend is early labor, not chauvinist pigs.”

“You shouldn’t even have to hear it, though. And besides, won’t smiting college kids stress the baby out?” Reese asks, worry tearing through his voice despite the lighter tone.

“Do you honestly think your dad will let them get more than a couple words out?” you ask through an airy chuckle.

For the second time tonight, someone else speaks before Reese can.

Erik’s voice is muffled and gravelly, but the protective bite—the very same one that took hold of Reese at dinner and you just moments ago—is loud, “They’ll keep their mouths shut if they want to keep whatever teeth they have left.”

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[grapejuice32]

Never Forget

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: reader has a toxic family (specifically the mother), using unhealthily coping mechanisms eg, alcohol, drugs and self harm, I think that's all

Notes: reader is in the BAU and her family aren't really accepting of it and how important her job is to her. pls keep all the warning in mind while reading, don't read anything that could actively trigger you, love you bbys <3

You were biting the nail on your thumb, your knee bobbing up and down anxiously as you sat on your couch, you tried to prepare yourself for any upcoming remarks that your mother was sure to deliver that would inevitably hurt you, as they always did.

It had been that way since you were a child, there was always something about you, an achievement that perhaps you were proud of, like winning a medal for something in school that she would use against you. When you were in your young teens, you tried to fight her on it, point out to her that what she said hurt, and she would always start with an apology but inevitably find away to cut you down again, she'd say that 'you were making her the bad guy' or that if you couldn't take her constant berating, you'd 'never make it in the real world'. She'd call you names and say you were naive, that what she was putting you through was nothing compared to the hardships of her life. It hurt. So by the time you were 16 you'd given up on trying to fight her on it, you were desperate for ways to numb yourself, it started with alcohol, sneaking out to get drunk in a park with your friends. But you discovered you enjoyed the numbness certain spirits brought you, so you been drinking alone in the confines of your bedroom, before bed to help you sleeping the morning to help you start your day. However, as it is with all coping unhealthy mechanisms, it gets to a point where you need more.

Then began the drugs, at first it started with painkillers, taking one to many for your hangover headaches and discovering that it made you feel more at peace than the alcohol had. Then it became more severe, taking heavy duty painkillers, prescription ones, nothing you could get your hands on in an attempt to numb your pain. It was one time, while you were coming down from a high, on your way to take some more pills that you found yourself slipping on the wet kitchen floor, the glass in your hand breaking and a shard cutting your arm. and that cycle, the self harm, it felt like the most efficient one, because you would be feeling the physical pain, not the mental pain, but even then, its never enough. Every few days, becoming every other day, becoming every day, becoming every few hours. It's when you nearly flunked high school and got threatened with being sent away to some wilderness camp that you knew you couldn't go on the way you were, you knew you needed help. So, when you turned 18, you forced yourself to check into rehab and got your game together, it was the best decision you'd ever made. You were smart, too smart to through it all away to a lifestyle you didn't want anymore, to one you knew you didn't belong to.

When you were out of rehab, you managed to get into collage to study criminology, you busted your ass and you came out successful, and further down the line, at the young age of 26, ten years after you had begun your unhealthy cycle, you found yourself as a profiler in the BAU. That brought you to where you are now, on the phone with your mother ready to be hurt by her words again, despite you making a living out of stopping the bad guys, the villains, you had yet to break away from your own villain and that made you feel weak, like a young child again. She didn't like anything bout your life, so here you sat, listening to her insult your job, your home, your boyfriend. "I- yeah mom- yes look, I know, yeah...okay, I'm sorry I don't know what you want me to say, plea-I-yeah okay, I'm gonna go, bye."

You sniffled as you abruptly hung up the phone, your eyes burning with tears that rolled down your cheeks when you looked down at your now bleeding thumb after you released the skin from between your teeth. The sounds of your breath hitching as you tried to hold back your sobs filling the silent atmosphere of your apartment. Suddenly, you found yourself itching for anything, beer, wine vodka, anything. You squeezed your eyes shut, clenching both your hands into fists, digging your nails into the palms of your hands leaving crescent moon shaped indents. Inhaling sharply, you bit your lip and shook your head to yourself, you knew hat if you didn't get yourself out of your apartment, you'd end up doing something you didn't want to do. So. you went the only place you could think to go, Spencer's. Truthfully, you didn't recall the journey to his apartment building, you were too lost in your own head, only slightly snapped out of your trance by the sound of Spencer's door unlocking and opening.

"Hi, honey," he greeted warmly, it only took him a split second however to notice the state you were in, instantly gathering you in his arms, pulling your lightly shaking form into the warmth of his chest. He walked the two of you back into his chest slowly, closing the door behind you both by pushing it with his foot, only momentarily letting one of his hands leave your back in order to lock the door, his hand swiftly returning to you, only this time soothingly scratching your scalp.

The way he moved in an effort to comfort you, in ways only he knew would help to bring you out of your head. It was only when he sat down on his couch, pulling you down with him for you to curl into his lap, that you began really break down, feeling safe in the serentiy of his touch to start crying the way you wanted to, needed to.

When what felt like a lifetime, which in reality was only minutes, passed, the breaths escaping you now steady with only the occasional hiccup. It was only then, when your breathing had settled and the tears now only escaped your eyes every now and then, that Spencer felt it appropriate to ask, "what happened, sweet girl?"

Your breath began to hitch again when you tried to gather your words, Spencer's hands working their way up and down your back and combing through your hair patiently, finally you whispered what he most likely already knew, " 's my mom," you felt him nod, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, "she's jus' so mean, she said such awful things, about me an-an-and about you," it was those last words that began to set you off again.

"okay, shh, 's okay," he hummed, pressing gentle kisses to your temple, "I'm still here, 's just you and me okay?"

That managed to coax a nod out of you, "I guess 's just hard, y'know?"

"I know, sweet girl," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your hairline, "but I've got you, alright," once again you just nodded, "she's never even met before, honey, what she says about me holds no real truth in it, and everything she has to say about you are just cruel and twisted words."

You took a deep breath and nodded, "I know, jus' brings back bad memories, y'know?"

He let out a breath, resting the side of his head on the top of yours, and the both of you stayed silent for a while, feeling at peace in each other's arms. "I love you," you whispered into the comfortable silence of his book filled apartment.

"And I love you, sweet girl," he paused before letting one of hands fall to your bare arm, his fingers lightly tracing some of the raised scars that littered your soft skin, "I'm so proud of you, always, I hope you know that. Many people would falter, after experiencing what you grew up with, as we've seen with our own eyes, and you're here doing the opposite of that, in the BAU. I'm just so proud of you, you're so strong. Never forget that, and if you do, I'll be here to remind you, always."

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[ireadwithmyears]

even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you.

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem Reader

Word count: 4.7K

Tags/warnings, smut (18+: (miners DNI) dumb decisions, they turn out alright, slight exhibitionism (they fuck in the back of 79’s and Fox enjoys the idea of being overheard), oral (F receiving), fingering, light bondage, spanking, but like only one, unprotected P in V sex, dom/sub elements, biting/marking (it’s Fox, what do you expect)

Summary: Fox hasn’t been giving you the attention you’ve been craving. The way in which you go about fixing that is highly questionable, but ultimately, a resounding success.

Note: yes, this was 100% inspired by a specific lyric in I’mgonnagetyoubac by Taylor Swift, referred to in the title. I heard it, went Fox bby c’mere I need to do something with this, and this is the end result, which I hope is enjoyable. Also, do these characters have communication issues that they probably should acknowledge and talk through? Probably. Are we not going to acknowledge any of that here for the sake of✨minimal plot✨ yes.

“This, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever had.”

To be fair, your best friend is saying this all while she downs a shot, barely containing her smirk behind the glass. She’s already given her rather enthusiastic consent to this idea that she has just declared is stupid

Because that’s what best friends do. 

Look, you have to agree, the idea sounds completely outlandish and lacks any sound logic whatsoever, not to mention, there’s no guarantee that it’ll even work. But, lounging around a table at a bar on Coruscant’s Clubbing scene, and with your ride or die best friend perched across from you to egg on your delusions, it starts to sound not as crazy as it had initially sounded when you had first spoke the words aloud.

In theory, the idea is straightforward and simple enough. 

Start a fight at the clone bar while Fox is on duty so that you can actually get him alone for more than two minutes.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that these are rather drastic measures for you to take just to get your boyfriend to notice you. But, with your rationalizing, alcohol emboldening you, and your friends immediate agreement to help without hesitation, this idea starts to seem not only reasonable, but solid.

Listen, if you were able to be a normal, sensible couple, and you could just do something like, you know, talk to Fox, you would.

The problem is, though, that Fox has been making that very difficult.

Being the marshal commander of the Coruscant guard carries a lot of weight and responsibilities, you get that. You really, really do. But, when he rarely makes it home most nights because he’s fallen asleep at his desk from overworking himself, and you can count the amount of times he’s touched you over the past two weeks on one hand, you’re starting to go a little bit insane.

Okay, so, you’re horny and so desperate for his attention that you’re willing to do something completely unreasonable, not to mention a little bit illegal, to get it. So what.

*

The plan, for all of its complete lack of sense and sound judgment, goes a little too perfectly.

The guard often sends some of their own out on patrols during 79’s busiest nights to keep order and ensure that there are no inter-battalion style brawls. 

You have Fox’s schedule memorized. So, you wait until you know he’s set to make his rounds, pick a table that is clearly within his eyeline, and then, minutes after he shows up, give your friend the subtle signal.

It starts with raised voices, shouted accusations and glaring until you know you’ve peaked his interest. Even through the tint of his visor, you can practically feel his eyes on you from across the room. 

Once you’re sure his eyes are securely glued on you, you allow high school drama and improv skills to take over, letting the fight escalate into something physical.

It’s hard, knowing that your friend is about to take the brunt of this for you, and your equal parts appreciative, and a little bit terrified, that she’s letting you launch yourself at her. But, you think to console yourself, you had practised this. How to make it look convincing, just good enough that it draws the attention of the cori’s, while also inflicting minimal damage because due to the fact that you don’t want your friend to get in heat for this too, making yourself the clear instigator, she’s only dodging, refusing to hit back.

When the thud of boots and the crackle of voices through helmet speakers come, barking gruff orders to break it up, you’re more than a little relieved. 

Even with his bucket still on, it’s easy for you to identify that it’s him. Him who pulls you off of her, none too gently. Him, whose rough, gloved fingers enclose around your wrists, smoothly pinning them behind your back before you can even blink and fuck, why was that so hot? Him, who, for a brief moment, you feel the cold and unforgiving plastoid of his chest plate digging as he presses flush against you, voice a low, displeased rumble as he addresses you, voice too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“You know, princess,” he mutters darkly, giving your wrists a squeeze. “If you wanted tonight to end with me locking binders around those pretty wrists of yours, there was no need to go to all of this trouble.”

He knew. 

Somehow, he’s figured out exactly what you were doing within seconds and for some reason, this only intensifies the thrill that runs through your body and causes your thighs to clench.

You’re not given time to ruminate on this, though, barely catch the subtle wink that your friend gives you before another member of the guard blocks your view of her as he kneels down to check on her. Fox, reflexes lightning fast, spins you around and immediately begins to usher you towards the back of the establishment, giving the other guard member on duty, you think it might be Thorn, a curt nod to acknowledge that he can handle this on his own.

Your led away to the sounds of low whistles, and many identical sets of brown eyes peering at you interestedly as Fox’s brothers stare at you when you pass by their tables.

Your face, at this point, has the decency to flush with oncoming embarrassment as they watch Fox leading you away.

No time for regrets now, you think to yourself as Fox reaches around you, still keeping your wrists firmly in one hand as he unlocks the door to an out-of-the-way office, frequently used to detain clones who start fights in the bar.

For better or for worse , you have captured his full, undivided attention for the night. 

now, you think, it’s only a matter of what he’s going to do about it.

*

“You know,” he muses, arms expertly caging you in and crowding you against the office wall, “if you’re going to fake a fight to get my attention, you could at least have picked an accomplice who I haven’t already met, and who I am perfectly aware you are on good terms with.”

“How would you know?” You ask, still slightly breathless as his amber eyes catch yours in the dim light, levelling you with a look. “A lot could change in the two weeks that I’ve barely seen you.” 

“Is that what this is about?” He asks, voice low and somehow too smooth and even, tilting his head to the side. “That explains why she made the effort to do this.” 

He doesn’t back down, doesn’t even look away in any semblance of guilt, which is infuriating. You’re about to tell him so when you’re cut off abruptly, words dissolving into nothing but a short gasp as his head lowers, lips, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth along the much too exposed skin of one of your breasts.

You blink, looking down at yourself, startled. It appears that whilst your friend was engaged in skirmishing with you, she had managed to tactfully pull open a few buttons from your shirt, splitting it just so that one of your breasts is tantalizingly exposed, nipple barely covered by the remaining fabric.

It’s fabric that is quickly shoved to the side as Fox, eyes never leaving yours as he does, takes your nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling over the bud, encouraging it to harden between warm lips.

“It’s almost like this was... planned,” he muses, accentuating his words with a sharp pinch as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smirking at the way you jolt with surprise. His breath ghosts along the column of your throat as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Wasn’t it, cyar’ika.”

You’re prevented from answering when his teeth nip at your earlobe, causing any words you had in your mind to fall away, giving way to a shiver as you arch into him. A thrill runs through your body, and a pleasant hum has replaced the void where your thoughts used to be. If you had the sense to be embarrassed about how easy it was for him to get you like this, you would be. But right now, pushed up against the wall with him looming over you, it takes all you have to reach for him, fingers trying to find perch’s between his armour plating.

“Fox,” you let out a whine, tilting your head up to look at him pleadingly as you press yourself against him.

“Uh uh,” he chides, quickly extricating your hands. “These stay here,” he orders, swiftly pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. “If you know what’s good for you,” he continues darkly.

“A and what if I don’t?” You try to challenge, but your voice comes out in more of a squeak, wobbling slightly, as his fingers trail down your sides, just teasing at the skin beneath your shirt.

He chuckles, the sound a husky, dangerous rumble in his throat. Abruptly, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling both your skirt and panties down with him in one harsh tug. They pool around your feet on the floor.

“Oh, meshla,” he coos at you, voice dripping with mock sincerity as one gloved fingertip, tantalizingly featherlight, sweeps through your already wet folds, only grazing over your clit enough to make your hips stutter in surprise before he pulls away. 

“Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you will.”

Your ability to form a quick witted retort to that is greatly impeded, and ultimately foiled, probably intentionally, by Fox lifting one of your legs, manoeuvring it so it drapes over the curve of one of those broad, imposing shoulders of his. 

Before you’re given time to react to this sudden shift of balance, he’s leaning forward, his impatience evident in the way he roughly holds your thighs apart as he does. Your clit is suckled into his mouth with an almost unadulterated greed as it’s pulled between his lips, tongue barely fluttering over it before your hips jolt, and the sound that manages to escape you, half in surprise, half a needy whine before you manage to check yourself, remembering where, exactly, he’s doing this to you, sounds just about as uncontrolled as his actions are.

He pulls back, only to give you a deceptively teasing smirk as he tugs off his gloves. “What’s the matter, cyar?” He almost purrs, a now gloveless finger slowly teasing at your entrance, eyes fixated on how you clench around nothing. “Got nothing to say now?” 

He evidently finds his ability to have you this riled up with only a few touches amusing, because he’s again leaning forward before you can respond. A series of gentle kitten licks targeted at your clit, as his finger slowly presses into your heat has you forgetting about that fact quickly, the only sound escaping your lips being that of a strangled gasp-moan.

With the way his lips quirk and he lets out a small hum of satisfaction, the vibrations of which run through your body like a shockwave that leaves you breathless, it’s evident that this is exactly the way he wants you, squirming and desperate.

“Fox, I, we can’t do this here ohh.”

You lose track of the point you were trying to make with the smallest movement of his finger, almost gentle as it curls inside you, just brushing over your G spot, causing you to start stammering.

“Mm, why’s that, princess?” He asks, pulling out his finger only so that he can insistently begin to open you up with a second. “I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands like that, hm?”

Teeth nipping at that sensitive spot high on your inner thigh silences your retort. “So pretty,” he breathes, almost to himself as his tongue lazily soothes over the mark he’s made, before he’s back on your clit, lips, tongue, and fingers that curl and press and thrust all working to bring you up and straight to the edge.

And take you to the edge, he does. Within minutes that feel like seconds, he has you arching your back, pushing your hips to meet the delicious, constant thrust of his fingers and the targeted, precise teasing of his tongue and lips against your already sensitive clit, breathless begging and pleading because you’re just, you need, you’re almost.

There’s an audible clap as you desperately press your hand against your mouth, trying to silence the high-pitched, feverish whimper that’s fighting to escape your lips because there, right there, rightfuckingthereyoujust...

Then he’s pulling away, releasing your clit with an obscene sounding wet pop as he rises to his feet, calm and totally unfazed in the face of your obvious frustrated desperation, hips still vainly moving in an attempt to find something that’s no longer there. He looks down at you, watching with evident amusement in his eyes as you lose the high that he’s given you, languidly taking the time to idly suck on his fingers, still slick with your arousal as he waits.

He’s patient, simply staring down at your quivering form as he holds you within his scrutiny, deliberately drawing out the silence until the tension has grown thick, and it starts to make you feel disquieted, nervous, almost like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have and you’re now waiting for him to pronounce your punishment.

Only then, only once he sees the realization dawn on your face and your eyes widen slightly does he reach out, lightly tracing one finger over the back of your hand.

Your hand that he told you to stay above your head on the wall. 

Your hand that is, right now, still pressed firmly against your half open mouth. 

“I thought I told you,” he muses casually, fingers delicately wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away from your lips, “to keep these where I put them.”

You swallow, but look up at him with a falsely innocent expression because fuck it, you’re already out of the frying pan, might as well just jump headfirst into the fire.

“Well, technically you told me to do that only if I knew what was good for me, so... guess I don’t,” you say with a shrug, flashing him a smirk.

“Hm,” he huffs, pondering as he continues to hold your wrist, giving it a squeeze in warning. “So it appears you don’t.”

Within seconds, he’s smoothly spun you around, and pulled both of your wrists behind your back, with a speed that’s so succinct that you don’t even comprehend what’s happening until the heavy, cold weight of the binders settles against your skin, locking your wrists in place with a smooth, resounding click.

Oh.

A hand on your back gently nudges you forward and without question, you begin to walk, only pausing when he’s directed you to stand in front of a desk, the height of which reaches just above your waist. He urges you down, hand pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re bent over, skin flush against the cool wood. 

You jump when his voice appears, low and inches away from your ear as he leans over you, hands delicately scheming down your sides as he speaks.

“Oh, meshla, you misunderstand me,” he purrs, and he can’t resist gently nipping at your earlobe just to hear the small noise of surprise that escapes you and feel the way your body shivers beneath him. 

You hear him settle behind you, armoured knees hitting the ground with a dull thump as his hands, warm and rough, ease your thighs apart, holding them wide.

Fingers lazily circle you’re already swollen clit as he continues. “You can cum, pretty girl. In fact, I want you to cum, and I want everyone outside to be able to hear all those pretty sounds you make when you do it.”

Outside, a muffled round of drunken cheering from several of his vode seems to punctuate his demand, causing your heart to quicken, and before you’re given time to really think about it, he’s opening you further, diving back in with his lips and tongue as his hands continue to hold your thighs apart.

For a moment, it’s just hot, heavy breaths, warm air tickling and brushing against your incredibly sensitive clit, the barest sensation and the heat enough to pull a breathless “mmm” from your lips, hips desperately pushing back against his waiting mouth. 

You both know that you’re not going to last long, so Fox takes time to relish each moment he spends in between your thighs, every movement of his tongue and lips deliberate and controlled. The firm muscle of the flat of his tongue pressing against you is neither frantic nor fast, but it urges and demands with an almost maddening precision.  The slightest role of his tongue over the bud as his lips pull you into his mouth nearly does you in, turning small, gasping whimpers into “oh please I fuck I please,” without any regard to the level of your voice.

Fox hums a response, and after that, you’re done, tipped over the edge by just the slightest nudge as if you had been clinging to it by your fingertips, and were now free falling.

You only come back to yourself when you feel fingernails raking up your trembling thighs, and Fox’s low, husky voice as he stares up at you.

“Mm, good,” he murmurs, running a finger through your sensitive folds just to watch you tremor.

He rises to his feet, and you’re not sure what you’re expecting him to do, if anything. Your mind is so addled by your orgasm that it comes completely unanticipated. 

A quick, stinging swat lands against your ass, calloused fingers caressing over the skin as soon as it begins to heat beneath the palm of his hand. It makes you let out of rather undignified, surprised squeak, hands instinctively trying to move to cover yourself, but of course, they’re not going anywhere. The unforgiving metal of the binders cooley nipping at your skin as you strain being a good enough reminder of that. 

“But I think you can do better.”

There’s the familiar sound of his codpiece being unclipped, a small clang as it hits the floor and is kicked away without consequence. Fox lets out a low groan, the only evidence to suggest that he’s nearly as affected as you are as he pulls himself free of his blacks, taking his hard length into his hand.

Your head drops to the desk, which is met with an immediate tsk of disapproval, Fox threading his fingers through your hair as he tugs it back up, pulling just enough to ensure that the tingle is painful, a reprimand as sharp as his words.

“Keep your head up, princess,” he orders sternly. “I want everyone to hear the sounds you make when I fuck you.”

He glides his cock through your wet folds, pausing to tease a few circles around your clit with the head as he continues. “And I want everyone to know how good I make you cum.”

The head of his cock lightly slaps against your clit, punctuating his words and causing the already overly sensitive nerves to spark and tingle. The whine that leaves your parted lips is a needy, pitiful thing.

You hear his low, throaty chuckle as he backs off, nudging the glistening head of his cock between your parted lips, smoothly lining himself up at your entrance. With one drawn out, controlled roll of his hips, he’s sinking into you, hands coming to grasp your hips as your tight, warm heat clenches around him.

Once he’s fully seated himself, feeling your walls fluttering around him, he moves, adjusting his angle in several quick, sharp snaps of his hips as he gages your response. When he finds the angle that has you crying out the loudest, and he’s satisfied that his cock insistently nudges against your G spot with every thrust, he begins to move in earnest.

Fox sets an even, measured pace, pulling back only to thrust back in with more power and intensity behind the insistent movement of his hips, cock pressing against all of those spots that need to be touched, caressed, and stretched for him.

Only when it starts to build inside you, because really, after you’ve already came from the talents of his skilled tongue, it really doesn’t take much to bring you back up, only once you start moaning and writhing beneath him does the rhythm change, not stopping, but slowing considerably as his fingers grasp at your hips, pulling you against him and keeping you still despite your squirming and protests. 

You can feel his armour plates digging against your skin as he moves, the cold, unforgiving plastoid in combination with the hot slick of skin on skin as he firmly presses your hips against him is dizzying, and sends your head spinning with each gentle pulse of his throbbing cock.

He holds you there, keeping your ass pressed flush against his pelvis, only allowing small, controlled ruts of his hips that brush his cock against your walls, his form radiating patience and authority as he looms over you, watching as you mercilessly struggle for him to give you more than what he’s allowing.

Your hips try to push back, to do anything, but without being able to brace your hands, you’re not getting anywhere fast at all, and your struggle to gain any kind of leverage ends with you throwing your head back, letting out a high-pitched, frustrated whine as you look back at your tormentor, who watches with an almost impassive expression, eyes dark.

He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, littering a trail of hot kisses and sharp bites along the exposed column of your throat as he moves to your ear. 

“Got something to say, meshla?” He coos condescendingly, nuzzling his nose against your neck and letting out a warm breath that sends goosebumps down your spine.

Under the full weight of his attention, he manages to scatter the few strings of coherent words that your brain was trying to piece together into something useful. All you can do is moan helplessly, feebly pushing back against him in an attempt to get him to move in vain.

“Hm,” he muses, and you feel the brief scraping of teeth as he runs them along your shoulder. “Guess not. Maybe I’ll just stay here, until you can figure out how to use your pretty mouth to tell me what you want.”

You know what he wants, and it only takes one small, barely there nudge of his hips for it to come spilling out of you, with minimal protest or fight. 

“Please, sir, please,” you beg, both cheeks and eyes burning at how unsteady your voice sounds. “Please fuck me.”

“Ah,” he pretends to come to the understanding and that bastard, you don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a devilish smirk on his face as one of his hands leaves your hips, dipping to run along your inner thigh. 

“Understood,” he says, voice as short and crisp as if he’s just barking an order to one of his troopers. 

With that, he withdraws, unsheathing himself so slowly that every inch of him drags along your walls as he pulls out. Then, without warning, grasping your hip tightly, he slams back into you, pushing against your tightness and pulling you back onto him at the same time. His pace is now brisk, unyielding, and unwaveringly steady as he impales you on his cock, letting out low, breathy sounds, pausing to listen to the mules and moans that leave you in response.

As soon as he starts hitting someplace deep, quick and primal and constant, your back is arching, your ability to form any coherent words seemingly depleted. 

Or at least, that’s what you think, until his hand, that had up until this point been squeezing and massaging the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, moves in between your legs, fingers expertly catching on your clit, circling, pressing, and the occasional tap against the overly sensitive bud that has you gasping and jolting in place.

“Fox,” you whimper desperately, hips wriggling even though there’s nowhere to go. “Please.”

Whether you’re saying please to beg him to stop because you can’t, it’s too much, or you’re saying please because you want, you need him to never stop, to keep going because the attention he’s lavishing on your clit combined with the delicious way he’s filling and stretching you on his cock feels so wonderfully good is unclear.

The decision is quickly taken out of your hands when Fox, evidently seeing how close you are, abruptly adjusts his angle, redirecting his focus yet again to your G spot, hips rolling against you as he targets it with small, precise and shallow thrusts.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs, hand releasing your hip to rake his fingernails down your spine. “Cum,” he orders, giving your clit another tap before he continues his tantalizing circles. “Cum for me.”

You throw your head back, spine contorting as you arch, only vaguely aware of the desk digging into your ribs as you cum, eyes squeezing shut and walls clamping down on him as some sound that you don’t even begin to hear nor control is ripped from your throat.

Only then does his pace falter and does he pull you back onto him to bury himself to the hilt within you, cold armour plating firmly pressing against your ass and your thighs, as he lets  out a long, low rumble as he stills within you, spilling his release within your warm, convulsing heat. 

You’re aware of your head falling against the desk, finally too exhausted to keep it up as your body trembles with aftershocks. You’re aware of his hand, soothing as it strokes through your hair. You’re aware of him slowly easing himself out, you think you might make a small sound at the loss, judging by his low chuckle, but you’re not sure.

You only really begin to engage with the world again when you feel the rush of liquid leaving your core, causing you to let out a small gasp. 

“Shh, little one, s’okay,” Fox murmurs, gathering the mix of his and your release that glistens on your folds with his fingers, slowly pushing it back inside, causing you to whimper. 

He guides your legs back into your panties and skirt with tender hands, pulling you to your feet and reaching around you to button up your top.

It’s only when he’s about to steer you out of the room that you realize. 

“Fox?” You say with a frown, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna, you know, undo the binders?”

He looks at you, hands occupied with snapping his codpiece back into place. 

“No,” he responds shortly. “You still instigated a fight. I at least have to play off the charade that I’m taking you back to HQ.”

He sets his helmet back on his head, and even though you can no longer see his face, you know that there’s amusement in his eyes, because even though this was your plan, he still has the last laugh. 

“This is still a punishment, and considering I’m letting you off the hook in terms of having to pay a fine, it’s a rather generous alternative, don’t you think, Meshla?” He reminds you lowly, voice clear even through his helmet modulator. “Get moving,” he orders, nudging you forward impatiently.

your mouth drops open as the noise from outside slowly filters into your ears.

He’s about to make you walk through the bar.

Your wrist still in binders as he escorts you out.

Past many of his vode.

With his cum still leaking out of you and the fresh bite marks that he scattered across your neck and shoulders like ornaments.

They’ll take one look at you, and even if they hadn’t managed to hear some of what was going on, which, judging by the dryness in your throat, would be a complete miracle of the force, they’ll know exactly what you did with the Marshall commander whom they all serve under and fuck, the burning twinge of humiliation should not effortlessly combine with some sort of excitement, but it does.

Your cheeks flush, and it takes all of your willpower to start shuffling your feet forward. 

Well played, Commander. Well played indeed. 

[wongyuseokie]

Practice Makes Perfect | c.s.c, j.w.w & k.m.g

Summary: Mingyu needed some help sexually. So his Hyungs decided to ask a simple favour of you, and who are you to say no to them? Besides, who could deny them pleasure? ☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕smut | ♥︎ completed Word Count:  2669 words 

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Female Reader | Female Reader x Jeon Wonwoo | Female Reader x Kim Mingyu 

Genre/Trope(s)/AU(s): Smut, Fluff, PWP. Content Warnings: None. It’s a PWP, and with my bias line. Mingyu is made to be a lot shyer and a little less experienced here. It’s the only way I can humble a man that fine. Mingyu needs some help, I guess? (but does he really?). Mentions of alcohol.  

Smut Warnings: Dom! Cheol, Subish!Gyu, Dom Wonwoo! Unprotected sex (pls don’t do this irl). Overstimulation, double penetration, breast & nipple play. Oral (m & f receiving), face riding, squirting. Mentions of public sex. Pet names (good boy, baby boy, pretty girl), praise kink. Pussy slapping. Cum play. Biting, it’s mild. Authors Note 1: Thank you so so much to @here4btsfics & @junkissed-replies for beta'ing this for me! Thank you also to @seungkwansphd for reading and then telling me I should be in horny jail. ILY bby. Authors Note 2: Also happy birthday to Wonwoo, the bestest boy. To celebrate him, let's thirst over a fine-ass man and his handsome friends.

Authors Note 3: tagging my lovely @the-boy-meets-evil because it's her birthday month, and I gotta make her suffer too. Also tagging my lovely Zeta @multi-kpop-fanfics because we suffer the Wonwoo rot today (every day). Tagging my lovely @seokgyuu too. Cross Posted to AO3 © wongyuseokie 2023. All rights reserved.

“Seriously? Hyung, I mean it; how do I make her cum with my mouth?” Seungcheol kept laughing at Mingyu. 

“Come on, Hyung; he’s trying to learn,” Wonwoo said with a smile. 

Seungcheol stopped laughing and looked at them.

“Okay, fine, Mingyu. Do you think I have a doll or something you would practice on?” Mingyu looked down. 

“Besides, it wouldn’t help. Each woman is different. No woman’s clit is at the same location as the others.” Mingyu sighed.

“I know. I just, since my ex, I haven’t been able to, like, I want to make a girl come undone because of my tongue and then fuck her,” Mingyu blurted out. 

“Mingyu, I’m sure you’ll find someone,” Wonwoo comforted. 

“Anyways, shall we head to Y/N’s house? I’m sure we’re already late?” Seungcheol asked, and the other boys nodded. 

You were on your second glass of wine, waiting for the boys to show up. It was movie night, and they had kept you waiting for the past hour and a half, and you were getting antsy. 

You decided to pour a glass of wine, which turned into two, and you were sipping when you heard your doorbell ring. You opened it to find your three best friends all looking extra apologetic. 

You all had met because Wonwoo had somehow managed to splash water on you at a bar. Seungcheol, the charmer, helped you get some tissues, and Mingyu was there, while he was shy at first, but he soon became your fellow cuddle buddy. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Mingyu over here wouldn’t shut up, so we got delayed.” Mingyu glared at Seungcheol.

“Hyung,” he warned, and Seungcheol smiled.

“I won’t tell her. Chill,” you narrowed your eyes at Seungcheol’s words. 

“What were these three up to?” You thought. 

You smiled at Seungcheol, never being able to get annoyed at any one of them entirely. 

“It’s okay, come on, help me in the kitchen. Wonwoo, Mingyu, get settled, make yourselves at home and pick a movie,” you said, inviting them in, and they followed you into the apartment while Seungcheol followed you to the kitchen. 

Moments like these, you were thankful for having a door that led to your kitchen because the minute you had shut the door behind you, Seungcheol had you pushed against a counter and his lips finding yours. 

“I’m sorry we’re late, Y/N,” Seungcheol apologised, mumbling the words against your lips. 

You and Seungcheol met at a bar, mainly because Mingyu accidentally spilt a drink on you, and Seungcheol took you to the bathroom to help you clean up, and one thing led to another, and somehow you ended up fucking Seungcheol in a random bathroom bar. 

It was a good arrangement. You both had amazing sex and no strings. 

“What was Mingyu asking about anyway?” You asked, now grabbing glasses and bottles of wine from the counter. 

Seungcheol bit his lip, “how to eat a girl out.” 

“Didn’t he have a girlfriend?” “He did, but I think he wants it for a one-night stand or hookups so he can, and I quote, ‘make her cum on my tongue before I fuck her,” Seungcheol elaborated, and you smiled at his words. You couldn’t help but picture it; Mingyu was eager, and willing to learn. 

“Y/N, I know that fucking smile.” 

You smirked, “what if I give him a lesson?” 

Seungcheol  grinned, “can I watch?” 

You and Seungcheol emerged from the kitchen to find Wonwoo and Mingyu sitting on your sofa. Mingyu had removed his leather jacket, leaving him with a sleeveless top showing off his muscles. 

Wonwoo, on the other hand, was on his phone, and his tight black shirt was doing nothing to hide how much he had been working out in the last few months. 

“What movie did you pick?” you asked. “We couldn’t pick one, so we just have music chilling in the background. Let’s make it a wine night,” Wonwoo replied.

You sat on the couch, and Seungcheol pulled you to his side.  

“Mingyu, how’s single life?” You asked innocently, and you heard Seungcheol suppress a laugh as he caught onto your motive. 

“Uh, good, you know. Nothing terrible.”

“Easier to get casual sex, right?” You asked innocently, and Mingyu stilled. 

“Hyung, what the hell did you say to her?” Mingyu asked, glaring at Seungcheol. 

You blinked as you set your glass down, walked over to Mingyu and stood before him. You sat down on his lap, throwing your legs around his waist. 

“Mingyu, look at me,” you said, and he did just that. 

“Good boy.” Mingyu felt your praise shoot straight to his cock. 

“You wanted to learn how to eat a girl out?” You asked, and Mingyu started turning red. 

“Do you want me to teach you?” You continued to ask. 

“Or?” Seungcheol interrupted. 

“Do you want your Hyung to show you?” Mingyu bit his lip at Seungcheol’s words while Wonwoo, who was enjoying this all too much, smirked.

“Show him, Hyung. He’s a visual learner anyway,” Wonwoo chimed in, and you nodded. Mingyu was still frozen. At the same time, Seungcheol sat on the floor in front of you. You crawled off Mingyu’s lap and found a space between him and Wonwoo. 

“Kiss me, pretty girl,” Seungcheol instructed, and you did as he asked, placing your lips on Seungcheol’s as he moved his lips with yours. He pulled your lower lip between his as he kept kissing you, his tongue slipping into your mouth, deepening the kiss. 

Your moans filled the room, along with the music. Seungcheol’s hands went to your shirt, pulling it off, revealing a sheer bra that left little to the imagination, while his hands found your shorts. He pulled your shorts and underwear off together. 

Wonwoo, who was already hard, found the clasp of your bra and undid it, helping you out of the material. He lifted one leg onto his thighs. 

“Mingyu, take her other leg,” Wonwoo said as Mingyu shakily moved his hand to your thighs, lifting over his muscular legs. You felt so exposed, and Seungcheol’s hot breath on your cunt did not help.

Wonwoo’s hand found a way to your breast. He started massaging and squeezing the soft tissue, making you moan as he traced circles around your hardened nipples. Mingyu was practically catatonic until Seungcheol told him to move. 

“Mingyu. You’ll turn into a statue at this rate. Kiss Y/N.” Seungcheol said as he started stripping himself down to his underwear; you turned your head to face Mingyu, who was turning into a lovely shade of fuchsia.

“Baby boy, kiss me,” you said, and you felt Mingyu practically launch himself at you. His lips found yours, and he kissed you. While Seungcheol was a more passionate kisser, Mingyu was more playful. 

His tongue kept running along your bottom lip; he would slip his tongue in now and then and deepen the kiss. Mingyu would gently tug at your bottom lip with his teeth, making you moan and writhe. 

Mingyu pulled away to trail kisses down your neck. He bit and sucked his way to your collarbone, ensuring that he ran his tongue over each of his love bites, soothing the area. 

You moaned as he continued and tugged his hair, making him look at you. 

“Baby boy, you’re so fucking good at that,” you praised, making Mingyu smirk. His lips were swollen, and his eyes glazed over with lust. 

A slap to your clit brought your attention back to the room and Seungcheol ’s carnal gaze. 

“Mingyu, watch what I do. Watch how I make her cum with just my mouth.” You squirmed at Seungcheol’s words, desperate to feel his lips on your cunt. 

You would never let Seungcheol know how good he was at eating you out. He already had a massive ego when it came to his skills in bed, and you didn’t want to inflate it further. 

“Mingyu, eyes on her cunt,” Seungcheol instructed, and Mingyu nodded, his hand massaging your breast, mirroring Wonwoo’s actions. Seungcheol leaned forward and ran his tongue from your entrance to your clit. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, you almost hated how easily Seungcheol made you a mess, but at the same time, you weren’t exactly complaining. You moved your hands down to Wonwoo’s trousers while the other moved to Mingyu’s. Both men groaned as you palmed their erections. 

Seungcheol ran his tongue up and down your folds until he finally fixed his mouth on your clit. 

“Fuck, Cheol,” you whimpered, feeling him smirk against your pussy. 

Mingyu’s gaze never once left your cunt. He observed as his Hyung lapped at your cunt. He noticed what parts of your cunt, when touched, made you moan and whimper. 

Seungcheol wrapped his lips around your cunt and started to suck, making you buck your face against his mouth. Seungcheol moved his mouth away from your cunt to speak. 

“Wonwoo, take her in your lap and hold her tight,” Seungcheol instructed, and Wonwoo did as he was told. 

You were sat in Wonwoo’s lap between his thighs, your lower back pressing against his hard length. 

Wonwoo’s muscular arms wrapped tight around your waist, immobilising you as Seungcheol  dove back in. 

Seungcheol resumed his actions as his mouth found your clit again, he kept sucking, and you kept squirming, making Wonwoo moan each time you moved against his cock. 

Seungcheol licked and flicked your clit until you whimpered and came on his tongue, and Seungcheol lapped at your entrance, licking your release. 

Seungcheol smirked as he stood up. He pulled off his briefs and sat down in between the two men.

“Wonwoo put her on me,” Seungcheol instructed, and Wonwoo smirked and lifted you and lowered you down onto Seungcheol’s cock.

“Y/N, hands around my neck, pretty girl,” Seungcheol commanded, and you nodded and wrapped your hands around Seungcheol’s neck as he started thrusting his hips upwards, making you moan and fall forward. 

“So fucking tight,” Seungcheol said as he groaned.

“Mingyu, rub her clit.” Mingyu nodded as his hand moved to your cunt. He gently moved his fingers along your cunt and stopped when he heard you gasp. 

“There?” Mingyu asked, and you nodded. 

Mingyu wasted no time rubbing your clit. His fingers moved vigorously, and you were cumming in practically no time.

Seungcheol's groans got louder as you came around his cock. He hissed and pounded into you as you moaned and keened in oversensitivity. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” Seungcheol groaned, thrusting a few more times and stilled when he came inside you. Seungcheol slowly pulled out of you.

 “Keep my cum inside you,” Seungcheol instructed. 

Seungcheol carried you gently and laid you down on the other end of the sofa.

“Gyu, you wanted to eat a girl out? Go on, make Y/N cum,” Seungcheol instructed lazily. 

Mingyu bit his lip to suppress a moan. You moaned when you heard his instruction and stayed still, waiting for Mingyu’s mouth. He got so hard at the thought of being able to lick your pussy clean of Seungcheol’s cum. 

“Mingyu, take your clothes off,” you mumbled as he approached you. You almost laughed at the speed with which he undressed but then had to bite back a moan when you saw his body. 

Mingyu crawled and laid down between your legs. You could feel his breath on your cunt as he moaned and dove straight in. He mirrored Seungcheol’s actions; however, Mingyu was playful. He would alternate between his tongue and lips. 

Mingyu moved his mouth away from your cunt, and pulled you up on the sofa. Your hands tugged at his hair.

“More, Mingyu,” you whispered, and he laid down and pointed to his face. 

“Ride my face, Y/N,” Mingyu asked breathlessly, and you nodded as you straddled his face, his hands wrapped around your thighs, inching you upwards so he could push his tongue inside your cunt. 

You nearly fell forward at the welcome intrusion. Mingyu moaned when he tasted Seungcheol’s cum inside you as he moved his tongue and licked you. 

“Do you want more, pretty baby?” You nodded. You heard Seungcheol’s voice from behind you. 

You found Wonwoo standing at Mingyu’s head, his cock hard and in his hand. You adjusted yourself and wrapped your lips around his.

“Fuck, can I fuck your throat?” Wonwoo asked, moaning, and you simply hummed in approval against Wonwoo’s cock, the vibrations making him buck his length in your mouth. 

Wonwoo started by wrapping your hair in a ponytail and moving his hips in and out of your mouth. You let Wonwoo fuck your throat, and Mingyu kept licking you. You whimpered as you started to feel your orgasm wash over you. 

You came around Mingyu’s tongue, whimpering, but Mingyu’s grip on your thighs made it impossible for you to move. He continued licking you while you moaned while deep throating Wonwoo. 

“Fuck, Y/N, I’m going to cum,” Wonwoo growled, and you hummed, letting him know he could. Wonwoo thrust a few more times until he stilled and spilled his hot cum down your throat. 

You moaned as you swallowed him. Wonwoo smirked devilishly. He was far from being done with you, but you didn’t have to know that just yet. 

Mingyu kept lapping at your cunt, until you shook your vision, fading as you rode your orgasm out on his face. You whimpered as you felt a strong pair of arms pull you off him and hold you tightly. 

“Mingyu, you said you didn’t know how to eat a girl out, and you made this one squirt with your tongue,” Seungcheol said, cocking his brow at him. Mingyu grinned as he licked his lips. 

“I watched you, and she liked it,” Mingyu mumbled shyly, and you noticed how hard Mingyu was, and you motioned for him to come forward.

“Nope!” You heard Seungcheol say. 

“Cheol, fuck, I need to fuck him,” you protested, and Seungcheol grinned. 

“Oh, you will. Just you won’t fuck him alone. Mingyu, lie down again,” Seungcheol instructed, and  Mingyu nodded and retook his position. 

“Y/N, take him inside you,” Seungcheol instructed, and you practically crawled over and sank yourself on his length, hissing at how good he felt inside you. You felt a hand slap your ass, and you turned around to notice Wonwoo, who pushed you down so that you were lying on top of Mingyu. 

You felt Wonwoo push his cock inside your cunt, and your mind went blank as he sheathed himself further and further inside you. Both men were hissing at the tight fit while you just let out whimpers. 

Once Wonwoo was entirely inside you, he started moving his hips and tapped Mingyu’s thighs to do the same. You kept scratching Mingyu’s chest, trying to hold on as both men were fucking you. Neither one of them would last long in such a tight fight. 

Hisses and moans filled the room as the three of you were ecstatic. Seungcheol was hard and stroking himself at the sight. 

You felt Wonwoo cum inside you first, biting down on your shoulder as he did and pulled himself out, making you and Mingyu hiss. Mingyu pounded into your cunt as he came inside you shortly after. 

You were panting, trying to catch your breath as Mingyu pulled out of you. You didn’t realise when, but he had you flipped and on the sofa, and his lips on your cunt. 

You screamed at the touch, you were so swollen and sensitive, but Mingyu pushed his tongue inside you, moaning as he tasted your cum, mixed with his and Wonwoo’s. 

He licked you until you came again. He moved away from your cunt to your lips, pulling you in for a kiss. 

“Fuck.” He moaned as he took a seat next to you. 

“Okay, it’s my turn to ravage her. You two, make sure you hydrate,” Seungcheol teased, smirking as he pulled you off the couch and threw you over his broad shoulders, slapping your ass as he carried you to your bedroom.