#fanfiction glass

[thehordereigns-blog]

"Game start- Won’t you do the same for us?"

Casey x The Horde (Dennis, Patricia, Hedwig)- Alternative scene of Glass

(since I saw Glass again, I want to honor the very moving duo, the very beautiful dynamic between Casey and the Horde in the film. I am sorry for my English, which is still academic but poorly developed.)

The scene takes place during the events of Glass, in a completely parallel reality here, since we will say that Casey lives alone, in a small apartment that her guardians (now adoptive) have rented to her during her studies, close to their home. She receives an unexpected visit.

Casey is working on the table in her tiny living room, sunny with bay windows. She is concentrated, headset on her ears, her hair caressing her face (beautiful, normal it's Anya Taylor-Joy :) ). Suddenly the doorbell rang. Casey almost jumps, thinks she hears someone. A loud, precise knock on the door. She takes off her headset and walks slowly towards the door, and slows down when she hears a couple of little knocks, as if made jokingly by a child. She hears a chuckle, then an adult reprimand. She looks in the Judas, it's him . It's the Horde whispering low. In her startle, her heartbeat quickened: a thousand questions crossed her mind. She opened the door slowly, revealing Dennis' tight face, eager to greet her first.

-Dennis?

-It takes a long time to explain...

-Are you alone?

-Yeah, if I may say so.

She looks on both sides of the landing, afraid that someone will hear the whispers of the man so sought to put him back in jail again and now forever. She approached him and gestured for him to come inside; he entered abruptly and closed the door.

-Damn Dennis...

She hugged him with a distance, afraid of being separated, but in a kind of deep friendship in their mutual suffering and wounds. Dennis held her in his arms and looked away.

-Me too Casey, enough. Yeah.

He sighed. "It's very clean in here." She looks him in the eye, his beautiful blue eyes puffy with anxiety.

-you haven't changed you know.

He smiles. He plays the game.

-Someone else wants to say hello, you know.

Casey's face remains stunned seeing Kevin's face light up. She understood from the frantic movements of his arms that she was seeing an old friend, an old playmate.

-Casey!! My girl !! Ya home sooo cool , you're an adult now!! you see, we wear the same color like real lovers! Pointing out her pink sweater that matched his sweater. Do you have your own room ?? Is the TV yours??

He was running towards the sofa, lifting all the cushions, like a small tornado. He disturbs all the classes placed, and notices the headset and grabs it.

- Wow class!! What were you listening to?? Nicki?? If you're on her side, we can't be together, but I accept it..

She smiled as she tried to approach him.

  -Hedwig, I need to talk to...

- Did you cook? It smells so good! In the hospital it was old porridge, yucky..worse than the time Jade tried to make meat, it was horrible..it looked like jam.

She picked up the headset, her lessons, and the sofa cushions. She heard a silence and turned around.

-Like I was telling you, Casey, there's been a problem at the hospital. Mr Glass got us out, and reading the reports, gave us the address where we could found you without any trouble. He was not mistaken.

-It’s completely insane!! But you ran away?? But what's your problem, you all want to be killed?

-you don’t unders-

- WHAT THE FU-

- Gently girl!

Her air of a schoolteacher, clapping the students fingers, she recognizes the priestess.

-Be polite, you knew where you were going from the start after visiting us. Staple couldn't believe it, you have to see the face of this ill-fated little bitch.

- Patricia, you let Kevin out of the hospital, it’s completely unconscious.. think of Kevin!

- We have the situation under control, my dear.

- Oh you do ?

For the love of Kevin, she was ready to defy the world if necessary.

- For now, we'll have to hide, my dear, because we're on the run. We'll find a solution by then, and the Beast will thank you.

- I don't need to be thanked! You are all going to be killed with your nonsense!

Patricia, as usual, looked determined by whatever the Beast dictated to her. She knew how to lead and wanted to remain master of everything and of herself. As a priestess, she must not show a sign of weakness, nor a wavering of her faith. Hedwig, he, as a player, laughed at this completely crazy situation.

- Eh LOL !! Before it was us who hide you and now won’t you do the same for us? How dare you, you’re so mean ha ha ha !!

She smiled and giggled at this incredible situation. Anyway, her life and Kevin’s life were tied forever together now. What was she going to do? Leave Kevin to all those who lost him by wanting to protect him, brood him? Leave the child, leave the Horde, let the Beast lead to the inevitable fall of the group? “Fuck, shit…” whispered Casey. (Patricia creaked inside) She sighed, looked behind her, took a deep breath. 

Dennis and Casey looked at each other. Dennis, who crossed his arms, hoped in her eyes. He had become tender and sincere on several occasions. He had already shown his respect for this girl, this very special girl..

Both were surprised by the ringing of the pasta timer. She dodged Dennis who stood at the kitchen door. She dripped the pasta, with her empty gaze, lost in reflexions. Dennis was desperate for an answer in her panicked air. Until she grabbed two plates, and exclaimed:

- how many plates do I serve you? One or twenty-three ?

And in Kevin’s smile, she saw that of Patricia, that of Dennis, that of Hedwig and all those who approved of the joke.

TO BE CONTINUED :)

--------

for those who held on and read to the end, thank you very, very much. I really really appreciate talking about these two, without explicitly talking about Love, but a bond of deep respect and mutual recognition bonding them. Let me know your opinion on this hehe 😃

[sunsburns]

imagine trying to keep up with clark 🤯 (18+)

clark kent is an undeniably gentle lover—clumsy at times, almost bashful, his movements hesitant in a way that’s endearing. sometimes, he looks to you for reassurance, those soft blue eyes pleading, asking if he’s making you feel good.

and he always does.

he knows your body so well it’s almost frustrating. his hands, his mouth, the way his voice drops just slightly when he whispers your name—it’s enough to leave you trembling every time.

he always tells you that you do. “perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and uneven as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. his voice is wrecked, raw in a way that makes you believe him—for a moment.

but there are things you’ve started to notice.

like the way he lingers for just a second too long, his lips brushing your temple as if hesitating to pull away or draw you closer. or how his hands tremble slightly when they release you, the strength behind them still careful, too careful. then, there are the moments he waits for you to fall asleep—the soft creak of the mattress, the shuffle of his feet as he slips out of bed, barely disturbing the air.

it’s always the same. the quiet click of the bathroom door, the faint rush of water as he turns on the shower.

you know what he’s doing in there.

and it eats at you, imagining him under the stream of hot water, head tilted back, his chest heaving as he works through the need that still claws at him. need that you weren’t able to fully satisfy.

once, you caught him. half-asleep and bleary-eyed, you stirred when the bed dipped, his weight returning as if nothing had happened. his skin was still damp, his hair darker and curling against his forehead.

but you want to be the one to help him blow off that steam.

“just blowing off some extra steam,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

no, you need to be the one.

you want him completely undone—panting, his chest heaving, red staining his cheeks while he’s too wrecked to say anything but your name. you want him shaking with pleasure, the same way he leaves you, winded and unable to think of anything else.

you want him gasping, moaning louder, his voice breaking apart as he tries to keep himself together. you want to see spit pooling at the corners of his lips, his body shuddering uncontrollably. you want him to blow load after load—on you, with you, inside you—until neither of you can take any more.

you just have to make sure you don’t turn the tables on yourself.

“you got another one for me, hun?” clark pleads, his voice soft but ragged.

his curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his face is flushed deeper than you’ve ever seen. his big hands hold your hips gently, fingers twitching as if he’s trying to resist gripping you tighter.

you’re blubbering, incoherent, your eyes unfocused as your nails scrape at his shoulders. it’s ridiculous trying to leave marks on steel skin, but the feeling of him, the weight of him, makes it impossible to stay still.

you’ve finally managed to corner him. after weeks, nearly a month of easing him into the idea that you could keep up with him, he let you try. and now he’s showing you a side of himself you’ve never seen before.

his body trembles against yours, his movements are frantic, urgent, a stark contrast to the measured pace he usually sets. your legs ache as you struggle to keep up, your body pliant and exhausted, while he bucks up against you, doing most of the work after you had given up on riding him.

he moves you easily, up and down his cock, his strength apparent even in his restraint. his head falls back against the headboard, blue eyes locked on yours, his glasses long discarded.

in all honesty, you don’t know if you have another one in you. you’d lost count three orgasms ago. you must’ve been delusional thinking you could keep up with clark kent, a man who is finally breaking a sweat, his broken moans and soft whimpers starting to turn into ones you’ve never heard from him before. even after cumming countless times, making a mess of your sheets, he still wants more, asks for it, begs for it—he needs more, he can take more, wants to give you more.

the slow drag of his cock, sliding in and out of you, has you mewling, tears staining your cheeks as the pleasure mounts again. his grip is firm but careful, guiding you, ensuring you can take everything he’s giving.

he makes you feel so good. your body trembling in his hands, every nerve alight and melting under his touch. you’ve become putty for him to mould.

it’s a little embarrassing, honestly—that he’s got you like this. you were supposed to be the one pleasing him, breaking him down, undoing him. not the other way around.

but he seems perfectly satisfied with the way things are right now.

you’re fully collapsed onto him now, your strength all but gone. his hips jerk upwards, his movements frantic and desperate, breath puffing hot air against your ear.

“can you… can you look at me?” he pleads, his voice cracking as his hands shift from your hips to cradle your face, tilting your head so you’re staring into his glassy, almost desperate eyes. “look at me while you come—it’ll make me come, too. please.”

you mean to whine, his touch burning against your skin, but the sound catches in your throat when you see him.

he looks utterly wrecked.

his eyes are clouded, unfocused, his lips slick and parted, his brow furrowed with something between pain and pure desire. you imagine you look much the same—spit glistening on your chin, cheeks flushed and tear-streaked, wetness trailing down your thighs.

he holds your gaze for a moment, his thumb brushing your lower lip before slipping into your mouth.

then, both of you move at once—you surge forward to kiss him, capturing those perfect, pink lips, your movements slow and languid while he remains restless. he adjusts to your pace, pulling you impossibly closer.

his blue eyes roll back as he thrusts into you again. one hand traces lines up your spine while his lips devour yours, leaving you trembling and teetering on the edge within minutes.

his kisses turn softer, trailing to your cheek, his teeth catching on your skin as he nips gently. “i’m not hurting you, am i?” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “i know it’s sensitive, baby. tell me if it’s too much, okay? i can stop if—”

“no, please,” you whimper, terrified he might actually stop. “it’s so good.”

you’re drunk with desire, clenching tightly around him.

“you feel so good, baby. so fucking good. you’re taking me so well.” his next thrust is sharp, deep, dragging a cry from your lips as he stills, buried to the hilt. “you’re gonna make me come again,” he groans, his voice breaking.

“fuck, please—”

“i want you to come for me again,” he interrupts, his desperation bleeding through. “you’re so tight and hot when you do. i need it again—please, baby, one more for me. can you give me one more?”

“i—yeah,” you nod, trembling, your body already vibrating on the verge of release.

he hardly gives you a moment to recover before he’s crooning, “one more, just one more, please, please, please—”

clark kent is completely undone.

[turtletoria]

i wanted to try drawing older Mabel and Dipper !

[throneofsmut]

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

These will ALL be reader fics. One will be posted everyday of october.

Day One: Breeding with Azriel and Eris Vanserra

Day Two: Stalker / Somnophilia with Azriel

Day Three: Pegging with Cassian

Day Four: Spanking with Eris Vanserra

Day Five: Eating Out with Feyre Archeron

Day Six: Temperature Play with Aelin and Rowan

Day Seven: Losing Virginty with Lucien Vanserra

Day Eight: Against A Wall with Nesta Archeron

Day Nine: Tit Worship / Tit Fucking with Rhysand

Day Ten: Toys with Bryce Quinlan

Day Eleven: Rough / Squirting with Cassian and Nesta

Day Twelve: Fingering / Hate Fuck with Hunt Athalar

Day Thirteen: In Public with Ruhn Danaan

Day Fourteen: Praise with Liam Mairi

Day Fifteen: Deep Throating with Xaden Riorson

Day Sixteen: Edging with Dorian and Manon

Day Seventeen: Thigh Riding with Aelin Galathynius

Day Eighteen: Pregnant Sex with Dorian Havilliard

Day Nineteen: Period Sex with Fenrys Moonbeam

Day Twenty: Size Difference with Lorcan Salvaterre

Day Twenty-One: Daddy / Mommy with Rhys and Feyre

Day Twenty-Two: Orgasm Denial with Manon Blackbeak

Day Twenty-Three: Face Sitting with Rowan Whitethorn

Day Twenty-Four: Corruption with Azriel

Day Twenty-Five: Knife Play with Cassian

Day Twenty-Six: Strip Tease with Hunt and Bryce

Day Twenty-Seven: Wax Play with Eris Vanserra

Day Twenty-Eight: Handjob with Lucien Vanserra

Day Twenty-Nine: Anal Sex with Rhysand

Day Thirty: Cockworship with Dorian Havilliard

Day Thirty-One: Hunter / Prey with Azriel, Cassian, Rhys

****

COMMENT IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST

****

Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

(My main masterlist is pinned on my account and THIS masterlist is on it!!)

[stump-not-found]

take the parts of me i cannot stand, and replace them with what you can no longer carry

when i look at my reflection, let it be some rotted version of you

[sugudolle]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ 18+ CONTENT ⊹ jason todd x fem!reader. reader wears glasses. jason is a big tease. condescension. dry humping. making out on his bike. calling you princess + pretty girl

jason letting out a big yawn as he finally makes it back to the parking lot under your cozy, warm shared apartment, the sky already dark above him—his energy suddenly returning in full as you pounce on his broad back while he’s putting his kick stand down, hanging off your big strong boyfriend’s frame as his eyes darken under his mask, still in his red hood gear.

jason tilting his head and lowly going ‘yeah?’ as he leans against his bike, the feeling of his gloved hands holding you in his lap by your hips being your breaking point after a whole day of going jasonless—no kisses, no playing with his pretty hair or grabbing him by his cheeks every 2 seconds to place an adoring smooch on his lips, you need him now—it hasn’t even been five minutes since he came back from his night patrol and a string of saliva is already connecting the two of your lips as you’re leaning in to kiss him again while straddling his lap, sitting on those firm, well toned thighs of his.

jason playfully stealing and wearing your glasses as he grabs you by the hips and presses you down on him to grind harder on his dick, making you feel how hard you made him—soft little pants falling from your pretty, swollen lips in a post makeout daze while he chuckles adoringly at your cute, now squinty in confusion, face.

“awww can’t see? look at you chasing my lips,” he teases, “greedy baby.” jason strokes his hands up and down your sides and you pout, making grabby hands at him in desperate attempts to drag him closer by the chest of his compression shirt.

“pfft ya missed.” his deep chuckle reverberates through you as you grumble, still squinting, when your lips clumsily land on his cheek and he brings you in for a sloppy, open mouthed kiss.

“think that’s what you meant to do, yeah pretty girl?”

jason gently putting your glasses back on your face, he wants you to get a good view of what he’s doing to you after all, but not without a mocking whisper of “my poor baby. i’m so mean aren’t i?” and you whine in agreement, lightly bopping his firm chest. “haha sorry sorry. you get wet so fast it’s cute. been so needy for me all day, huh? just want me to hurry up and fuck you already?”

“yeah, you like the sound of that?” he squeezes your hips with a laugh as you moan softly and enthusiastically rub yourself faster against his big bulge through the rough fabric of his cargos, his breath hitching and grazing your neck, pressing soft kisses on it here and there while his hard, thick cock rubs against your soaked panties.

“don’t worry princess, i’ll take good care of you tonight.”

[angellic4l]

thank you’s - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader is demeaned by an officer on a case and season2!spencer sticks up for her.

content: fem!reader, reader described as having ‘girly’ flair, sexism, mention of blood/bloodstain, mainly fluff, protective spencer, and i think that’s it but lmk.

a/n: i just rawdog it and write on tumblr as a draft so i have 0 clue how many words there are. also, thank you all so much for the love on my first fic, i adore you all. these are my babies now and i hope you love them.

Warm sunlight warms the skin on your back while you’re crouched down at the latest crime scene, examining a bloodstain on the concrete floor. Despite it being November, it’s still considerably warm in Texas, a big contrast to Virginia weather for sure.

Despite official policies about dress code and such, you’re still a fun person, so you like to add your own girly flair to the professional attire you sport almost every single day. It doesn’t harm anybody, it doesn’t break any rules, and it’s cute.

However, pair the cute flair you add to your clothes with your enthusiastic, optimistic, ‘happy go lucky’ personality, and the fact that you’re a woman, and it causes people to make their own assumptions - typically sexist ones.

After doing bloodstain analysis on the red splatter that coats part of the parking lot’s floor, you go to stand up from your crouching position. Mid motion, you spot a small note on the floor, tucked under the wheel of a car. Crime scene analysis requires everything and anything to be processed, and the unsub has yet to make contact with authorities, so you make the decision that it’s worth looking at before motioning for Spencer to come over after seeing him somewhat idle.

He begins to make his way over from the other end of the parking lot as you stay crouching, waiting for him to come over because you don’t have gloves on. What you don’t see after you turn back around is an officer, an average sized male with blonde hair who appears to be slightly older than you, approaching you at the very same time.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doin’, workin’ for the FBI? You sure yer pretty little brain can handle allathat, darlin’?” A man’s voice; a thick, Texan drawl, coated with a somewhat flirty tone, yet at the very same time, it’s seeping with disdain - ambivalence.

Unfortunately, you’re used to that tone of voice and can recognise it all too well. It’s not going to be the first time you hear it, and it certainly won’t be the last, no matter how progressive times are or how you express yourself.

Standing up, spinning on your heels, ready to give the - officer? that’s poor - a rehearsed response to ensure your own safety, yet keep a boundary, you see Spencer stood behind the average sized, blonde haired man that you don’t recognise. He’s giving the officer one of his looks, his face saying everything, as usual, despite the officer not being able to see it.

Spencer’s fully aware his face is saying everything without it coming out of his lips, he’s completely baffled at how someone could say something so demeaning to anybody, much less you. You’re probably the sweetest person he’s ever met, always so supportive and enthusiastic. He feels protective of you. He doesn’t even realise he does until the words are out.

“She’s perfectly capable of doing her job, if not more so than other male agents, not that it concerns you whatsoever. And I’m perfectly capable of reporting a sexist comment to your supervisor.”

Spencer’s tone is defensive, no, protective, and you can feel heat rushing to your cheeks. It’s the bare minimum - sticking up for someone to a discriminatory comment - and you know that. It’s more so that Spencer hates confrontation, but he’s doing it, and it’s for you. Thank God for the Texas weather masking your fluster as warmth.

With the threat of his supervisor being involved, the officer offers a mumbled apology before walking away, almost as if his ‘tail’ is tucked between his legs, like a scolded puppy. A soft laugh elicits from your lips at the sight. Once the sexist officer has gone, Spencer’s eyes find you, his expression changing to one of concern.

“Hey, you okay? That was demeaning,” the brunette offers, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck, a habit he has, typically more often around you.

“‘M okay. Used to it, unfortunately. Thank you, though, Spence. That was sweet; I know how much you hate confrontation,” you say, giving him a soft smile as you do.

It’s Spencer’s turn to blush now, you calling his actions sweet and that soft smile - god, that smile - flushing his cheeks a light pink while his hand still rubs at the back of his neck.

“Oh, you don’t need to thank me. Anyway, you called me over here. What did you find?”

With his question, you’re quickly reminded of why you did call him over, before the sexist comment and mini confrontation that’d ensued with the officer’s presence, but there’s something you want to do first.

“I don’t need to thank you, but I want to,” you reassure him before stepping forward, moving closer to him, leaning up on your tiptoes, turning your head to face Spencer’s cheek, and slowly placing a chaste kiss to his already pink cheek.

Spencer’s eyes widen before they close, realising what you’re doing and wanting to savour the feeling of your lips on his skin. Unfortunately for him, the brief contact is gone just as quickly as it had started. He opens his eyes again and moves his right hand from the back of his neck to touch his cheek, realising what he did in front of you, and acting as if he was wiping away your lip gloss stain.

“Oh, uh.. thanks. Anyway, the, uhm, you called me over to see…?”

Silently, secretly, he wills the feeling of your lips on his skin to never leave his memory, not even when he’s old and grey, and maybe, just maybe, he wishes that you’ll be by his side when he is.

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 Theoretically Yours.

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: After a series of murders at your university, the FBI has decided to give you a bodyguard. The problem is that he can hardly protect himself, especially from you and your charms.

Words: 1,9k.

Warnings & Tags: mentions of murder, crime, blood. spicy insinuations. spencer from the first seasons with GLASSES meow. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm really excited about this, I love Spencer Reid in all seasons, but in the early ones he had something different that drove me crazy.

Also, this is the first time I write here and I'm nervous.

It was supposed to be a normal day, but agents showed up at your door to stop you from going to class and left you under the watchful eye of the youngest of them, Dr. Spencer Reid. It was a precaution to protect you from the killer who has been stalking the campus, killing girls with similar profiles to yours.

You weren't afraid and insisted that it wasn't necessary until you saw him. The mere thought of spending time alone with the man made you more excited than you would have liked. He was very tall, skinny and could barely look you in the eye for more than five seconds without looking away absolutely blushing.

You had decided not to talk to him or act suspicious, but for some reason you liked the idea of him helping you with your biology homework. You were studying pre-med at the behest of your parents and were having trouble understanding some of the material. Spencer saved your life when he offered to help you and told you about his multiple doctorates.

“You are amazing, like a genius.” You said in surprise when he read the big book you had on the table in just five minutes and left a bunch of notes in it.

He blushed again, trying to adjust his glasses to hide it so it wouldn't show. Reid was doing his best to be professional and not let his guard down, he had to be vigilant in case you were in danger.

“It's nothing. I hope it helps you.” He said, giving you a little smile.

You nod and look at the television behind him. They were airing a new report on the latest murders, showing photos of the victims and interviews with family members. Everyone cried and repeated how unfair it was to lose their prodigy daughters to a madman. You thought about how they made such a simple TV show about spilled blood without thinking about it, just trying to paint the girls who had tormented you for several years as white doves.

“Don't worry, you're safe here. I can promise that.” Spencer spoke as he followed your gaze. He was trying to comfort you and take away any fear with his presence.

“I know.” You smile at him with innocence. You were more than capable of protecting yourself and you knew it.

There was an awkward moment of silence, so you offered him coffee to break it. You went to the kitchen and poured two cups, watching from afar as he talked on the phone in the meantime. You couldn't help but notice the nervousness in his voice as he repeated to his colleagues that all was well with you.

“She's pretty, isn't she?” Penelope's voice rang through the phone in Reid's ear and sent shivers down his spine. “I saw some pictures in internet.”

“I...maybe...yes.” He mumbled, trying not to let you hear him. "How does that matter or help the case?"

As you used the coffeepot, Spencer looked you over from head to toe. He couldn't deny how attractive you were and how much his heart raced when you were around. His extreme lack of flirting skills and his clear differences with you saved him from the temptation you were.

“Just have fun, lover boy. You need it.” The woman smiled proudly and hung up the call before he could answer.

The two poured cups were already on the table, you sat down on the sofa by the window to start reading the notes he had left in your medical book. His impeccable handwriting made you shudder, it was unbelievable that someone with so much knowledge would waste time trying to take care of you from yourself and not even realize it.

“You're okay?” He asked with a soft voice, sitting in front of you.

“Yes, just reading your notes.”

“Sorry, I put too many. But I can mark the important ones for you.” He gently took the book from your hands and began to place himself between the paragraphs with one of his fingers.

Your eyes fell on his hands, the way he moved them over the pages of the book bringing inappropriate thoughts to your mind. You hadn't noticed before how perfect every part of him seemed, especially now that he was spouting complex biological terms without even flinching. You were aware of your own intelligence and proud of it, but you would have liked to be like him...or at least have him around.

“Is something wrong?” He asked confused as he noticed how you had been watching him.

“Sorry. I was thinking of biology...nothing better to look at to understand the theory.” You said to justify your indiscretion.

“Oh sure, it helps. According to several studies, the human being has three main systems for perceiving information: visual, auditory and kinesthetic.” He began to explain quickly. “This theory was put forward in 1988.”

“Maybe that can help me.” You suggested, trying to look away from him.

He nods and start to talking again.

“You were watching, that was visual. And you heard me talking before, that was auditory.”

“And what is kinesthetic?” You asked, even though you knew what the answer was.

Spencer swallowed before speaking, trying to hide his nervousness at the sudden change in tone of the conversation. He was glad to know that he had been able to turn the situation around and put the recent crimes out of his mind, he had been worried that they would affect you.

“Is what is learned through sensation and movement.” He finally said with his voice trembling slightly.

“Can I...?” You try to ask, but he nods before you can finish the sentence.

You stop looking into his eyes and take his hand, put it on your legs and start tracing lines with your finger over his scarred veins. You could feel him shudder every time you touched him, and his mutterings about the technical names of each became inaudible.

“This is the radial artery, provides oxygenated blood to the hands and fingers.” You start to talking, looking him to the eyes again and letting your hand enjoy the softness of his.

“Yes...yeah, it is.” His voice came out as a whisper, as if he was losing control of the situation. No one had ever touched him in such a way before.

The smell of coffee mixed with his cologne is almost addictive and begins to drive you crazy. Just touching his hands was not enough, something inside you wanted more and the ideas running through your head began to torment you. You knew it wasn't right and that your own sanity was in jeopardy, he was one of the good guys and you not so much. It just wasn't right for you to mix, let alone under the current circumstances.

“I should check the perimeter.” Spencer rose from his seat and slowly moved his hand away from yours. He need to go away before something incorrect happened.

All the words were caught in your throat at that moment. You didn't want him to walk away yet.

“It's not necessary.” You got up after him, preventing him from walking to the door and being able to leave. “Everyone is in their classes now, the residence is empty and your coffee is going to get cold.”

Spencer knew you were right. He couldn't go against logic, so he sat back down on one of the couches and took a sip of the coffee you had poured for him. He did his best to avoid your gaze, but it was impossible when you were looking out the window and absentmindedly sipping your coffee.

“Do you think they'll find the killer?” You asked, trying to make conversation after watching through the glass as police cruisers drove around campus.

“Of course, no one else will have to get hurt and everything will be back to normal for you.” He replied without taking his eyes off you.

“I don't think you get to decide that.” You blurt out without thinking.

The phrase and your tone were enough to make him stand up and walk towards you. He put a hand on your shoulder out of inertia, to give you support and reassure you a little.

“You don't need to be afraid.” He gave you a small reassuring smile and you felt the warmth of his touch.

You took a tentative step toward him, shortening the distance between your bodies. You raised your gaze to meet his, feeling at his mercy because of the difference in height. You weren't thinking too hard and didn't hesitate to put your hand on his cheek, caressing it.

“What are you doing?” He asked, trying not to get carried away by your touch.

“To thank you for being here and helping me.” You had a burst of courage and stood on tiptoe to give him a resounding kiss on the cheek.

Then you moved your face far enough away to look at him and see his blush. He looked so affected by a simple kiss on the cheek that you couldn't help but move closer again, this time with his fingers on your chin.

“You can't. We can't.” He stopped the approach just a couple of inches from their lips colliding.

“Why? Because I'm part of your job?” You questioned in frustration, unable to tear your eyes away from his mouth.

“I'm here to keep you safe.” He tried to sound calm and professional, though his voice trembled.

“I'm very safe now.” You assured him, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around your waist. “No one can hurt me here.”

Without Spencer being able to notice, a small moan escaped him at your action.

“There's a killer on the loose.” He insisted, trying to be the voice of reason even though he couldn't look away from your lips.

“Trust me, a kiss won't bring him here. I'm sure of it.” You replied as you noticed him slowly pulling away from you.

A curse tried to come out of your mouth at the rejection and lack of his touch at your waist, but before you could finish it, his lips were on yours and his hands were pressing you against him.

His lips were as soft as his hands, but the way they moved over yours was not soft at all. At first, even his tongue seemed to ask your permission to continue. It took several seconds of clear acceptance before the uncertainty of his kiss disappeared and was replaced by need.

You took advantage of the fact that you were in front of the big couch to push him off and you both fell on top of him, having only a few seconds to catch your breath before continuing. He gave you a quick, tender kiss before pulling his hands away from your back to remove his glasses, which were already fogged up and out of place. But your hand stopped him just before he could put them down on the table.

“Do not take off your glasses. I really like them.” You whispered still over his mouth.

“As you wish.” He said before kissing you again and letting himself enjoy himself under you, without thinking about anything else.

At that moment you knew that maybe committing a few more murders to keep him around wasn't such a bad idea.

[thesassypadawan]

Addicted (Stephen x FemReader)

Summary: You love your sweet baby boy, but you know how much of a pretty little liar he can be. Especially when it comes to something he wants.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Mission, refusal to pull out, slight mommy kink, and… Stephen’s cute, big dick.

Notes: I would love to hear what all you, lovelies, think! If you would like to see more of Stephen! If so...I already have another idea in mind! ❤️

- It’s in the way he exhales; breathy, laced with the sweetest whimper. Just barely audible over the lovely, lewd sounds of Stephen’s clumsy thrusts.

- You can practically feel his impatience. See the look of dizzy, drunk pleasure on his angelic face. Clearly on the verge of his orgasm with the way his compact muscles tense…how his neck strains deliciously. “Good…feel so good…”

- Sweat gleams on his skin in the faint light. As well as the angry, red scratches you left on his biceps…chest. “Sucking me back in…clenching around me…”

- The scent of sex lays heavy in the air when he begins to twitch. His calloused hands grip your hips harder. Pace picks up, drives grow more erratic. While he sputters out… “S-shit. You’re g-going to make me…make m-me…”

- “P-pull out, baby,” you pant softly. Writhing beneath him, head tilted slightly to the side. Showing off all the adorable marks he left behind. “You need to p-pull out.”

- Strokes become uneven, sloppy. He shakes his head and something wild, defiant flashes in those blue eyes. “N-no. Please, m-mommy. I want to m-make a mess of this p-pretty pussy…”

- Instinctively you try to push him off, but his hold tightens. Pinning you to the bed, pressing you into it with his weight. “Coat these t-thighs; cover those s-swollen folds…”

- You know you shouldn’t. That you should be more forceful; attempt to fight back, put him in his place. Demand he releases on your stomach, like always. But he looks so sweet, so desperate…you can’t deny him.

- Legs wind, lock securely. Hands cling to his shoulders, pulling him close. Walls flutter while your lips ghost over the shell of his ear. “All right…just this one time though…”

- “T-thank you…thank y-you… I p-promise… Only…only…” Movements falter, stutter. Long fingers digging in, bruising you. As he buries his face into the side of your neck, hot breath and soft curls tickling your skin.

- “O-one…onnnce…” Slamming awkwardly, brutally. Strangled moan flies from his mouth and he cutely cums. His warm seed pumping you all full, making you…

- Wail out at the sudden load. Coil in your stomach finally snapping, sending you crashing over the edge. Crying out; gushing all over his cock, milking him for every drop. Head reeling in the best way possible, barely able to think…because it’s just too good. Not that you'll admit it.

- He babbles, whimpers. Tongue lapping, teeth nibbling gently. Continuing to pound and fuck you through his high. “Warm…s-so warm…” Until the last spurt paints your walls and he stills.

- Propping himself, he hovers above you. Chest heaving, face all flushed and splotchy. Glasses crooked and completely fogged up. “That…that was a-amazing.”

- Try as you might, you can't help but giggle at his adorably, pathetic state. Cupping his pink cheek, tapping it gently. “Glad you enjoyed yourself, but don't get used to it though. One time only…got it?”

- “Y-Yeah…” He mumbles, reluctantly pulling out. Gaze locked on, entranced from the way that creamy whiteness seeps from your core. “O-only once…”

- That something wild, defiant flashes in those blue eyes once more and you know… That by the end of the night you’ll have lost count of how many times he’s cummed inside you… That it’s too late to stop Stephen now… Now that he’s addicted…

- Oh, well… Maybe you'll get a cute baby or two out of this, out of your pretty little liar…

Tag List: @espinathena-17, @myheartwillgoon2022, @wifeofasith, @princessswifie, @kenobiskywalker16, @loverforoldermen, @adorbzliz, @sythethecarrot, @divineani, @decaffeinatedunicorn, @fuckmyskywalker

[cowboy1ikereid]

season 2 spencer reid

you will always be famous

[anakinstwinklebunny]

baby daddy stephen glass headcannons PLEASEE 💔💔

DAD!STEPHEN GLASS HEADCANONS

Author's note: not me actually writing for the first time Stephen glass headcanons..love you ariiiiii, hope you like it ;)

TW: at some point it contains sexual content, so if you're sensitive to that or don't feel comfortable with it, please do not read it for your own safety and comfort.

Stephen Glass who becomes hyper-attentive during your pregnancy. He checks in every few minutes—literally—asking, "Are you okay? Do you need anything?" Whether it’s grabbing your favorite snack, fluffing your pillows, or reminding you to rest, he’s all in. It’s both adorable and just a bit exhausting, but you know it’s coming from a place of love and nervous excitement.

Stephen Glass who loves cuddling up to your belly. Any chance he gets, he’s there—head resting softly against your bump, talking to the baby like they’re already having full conversations. So whenever you’re watching TV or lying down, Stephen’s favorite spot is curled up beside you with his head resting lightly on your belly, one arm draped protectively over you. You’ll laugh and remind him again, “The baby’s not going anywhere, Stephen,” and he’ll just smile, “I know… but it’s nice being close.” but he’ll stay there, nuzzling your belly with a goofy, contented smile because there's something so precious and peaceful in finding the comfort he's searching for in your growing body

Stephen Glass who's Favorite Thing are baby kicks - The first time he feels the baby kick, he freaks out—in the best way possible. His eyes go wide, and he stares at you like it’s the most magical thing he’s ever experienced. After that, every time the baby moves, he’s right there, placing his hand on your belly, waiting for the next kick with a childlike sense of wonder.

Stephen Glass who doesn’t mind getting up in the middle of the night if you’re feeling uncomfortable or craving something strange. He’s the type to stumble into the kitchen at 2 AM to find pickles or ice cream, coming back with snacks and extra blankets to make sure you’re cozy. But would immediately fall back asleep after giving it to you, snuggled to the pillow or just having an arm over his face

Stephen Glass who, yes, is a whimpering mess sometimes but he can be a hell of a dom;

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to her shoulder as he fought to hold back his orgasm. “You’re so tight… God, I can’t get enough of you..”

You whimpered at the fullness, he was everything a girl could want. Thick. Long. Your hands gripped his shoulders, digging your freshly made nails to his skin.

Stephen knew you sometimes liked having sex that was nothing but slow and sweet, but since you got pregnant and your hormones were all over the place, he loved delivering to you the rough, fast treatment, treating you like a little needy thing - because in reality, that's what you were at the moment. Nothing but a needy little thing, all his to destroy

he started to move, slow and deep at first, each thrust pushing you further into the mattress "Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick with everything that built inside of him “Taking me so well even though you carry my child..You were made for this. Made for me.”

His words sent a wave of heat through you, your body responding to every command he made, every thrust driving you closer and closer to the edge. You could barely think, could barely breathe, your mind clouded with the overwhelming sensation of him inside you, stretching you so deliciously

“You want it harder, don’t you?” he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Dearest heavens above..

He didn’t wait for an answer, his hands sliding down to grip your plush ass, lifting your hips to meet his so effortlessly to thrust into you with a new, almost brutal pace.

A strangled moan escaped your lips “Stephen—” you could barely get his name out before he slammed into you again "S'too much..too big--"

With a sly smirk over his breathless face, he groaned “Now, you didn't complain when my cock made you pregnant love"

Stephen Glass who reads everything about pregnancy. Articles, books, forums—he’s obsessed with knowing what’s happening each week. "Did you know the baby’s the size of a grapefruit now?" He’ll randomly blurt out facts, some useful, some just… oddly specific. But it’s sweet how invested he is.

Stephen Glass who has so many ideas for baby names, some of them way too out there, some of them surprisingly thoughtful. He’ll throw out suggestions at random, trying to gauge your reaction, but he’s open to your ideas too—he wants it to be a decision you make together.

Stephen Glass who, whenever you mention even the slightest discomfort, is there with soothing back rubs or foot massages. He’s gotten surprisingly good at it, always watching your face to make sure he’s doing it right, wanting nothing but make you as comfortable as possible.

Stephen Glass who, when you’re sitting or lying down, is all about sneaking gentle kisses to your belly. He’ll whisper things like, “I can’t wait to meet you, little one,” or "youre so big already, hm? Just growing before my eyes.." and stuff like that - his voice soft and full of love. He swears the baby can hear him (because apparently that's what he read in article), which just melts your heart every time.

Stephen Glass who takes charge when it comes to prepping the nursery, researching the safest cribs, softest blankets, and which baby monitors have the best reviews. He wants everything to be perfect for when the baby arrives, though he’ll always ask your opinion to make sure it feels right for both of you.

Stephen Glass who definitely has lactation kink;

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned, his mouth latched to your nipple with an almost feral hunger. He sucked harder, his hands gripping your hips tightly to have some kind of power over you, to let his desire ran through him.

He moaned against your skin, moving to your other breast, his tongue flicking over your nipple before latching on, sucking harder as if he hadn't have any food for weeks.

“I’m not stopping until I drink every.fucking.drop,” he rasped between breaths, his voice raw and full of need. “can't believe I haven't done that earlier..lost so much of this deliciousness”

You cried out, your body shuddering as your hands tightened around his curls. Stephen didn’t slow down, sucking until the last drops of milk spilled into his mouth, and even then, he wasn’t satisfied. He licked you clean, his tongue gentle but insistent, leaving your skin wet and sensitive in his wake.

“You taste like heaven,” he said, finally lifting his head to look at you, his lips glistening with your milk. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that wasn’t quite sated. “When they're gonna be full again?"

Stephen Glass who's hyper-aware of his mistakes and is terrified of repeating them, so he’s always double-checking everything. Is the baby eating enough? Are they getting enough sleep? He reads every baby book and parenting blog, and calls the pediatrician way too often.

Stephen Glass who loves showing off his little one. He’ll carry them around in a baby carrier on his chest, posting slightly blurred but adorable photos of their tiny socks or chubby hands to you (so you're literally being spammed) or his family members. It’s obvious he’s totally smitten.

Stephen Glass who's obviously all about imaginative play. He’ll create elaborate, pretend scenarios—pirates, astronauts, or detectives—and get fully invested in the story, making his kid giggle endlessly

Stephen Glass who'd charm other parents at school events or playgrounds, trying to fit into the whole 'dad role', but privately, he’ll be texting you, asking for reassurance about whether he’s doing okay. His confidence in parenting grows over time, but he never fully loses that nervous edge.

Stephen Glass who's determined to rewrite his life with his child. With them, he’s honest, patient, and loving. Every step of parenthood becomes a way for him to heal and grow, creating a future he didn’t think he could have—a future where he’s enough.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @jyinnc

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

[xhunnybeeex]

kinktober post 1

Make Me God

TW// : NSFW content, religious themes, female anatomy, piv, oral (reader receiving), virgin reader, slight corruption kink, Priest! Anakin, pantie stealing, 

Anakin is sitting in his usual spot in the pews as you go to look for him. He holds his new vestments in his hands, gazing at them attentively. 

“They fit okay, Father?” you ask, sitting next to your friend. 

Anakin hesitates before answering, him becoming a priest slipping his mind. It was only a couple days since the young man had become a head figure at your guy’s church. Anakin had met you when you were young, 10 and 14. The both of you never went to the same school, for he was older and went to a private catholic school while you attended public classes. That never stopped the two of you from seeing each other at youth groups, church, and going out. Your parents liked the faithful, obedient man he has become as the two of you fell into your 20s. 

He blinks out of his trance and looks over to you. “Oh hey, sorry, this is all just so new still. It feels like a dream.” he chuckles, laying the folded cloth in his lap. 

“Its all official now!” you smile, excited for him. Your faith was everything to you, and he was wired the same way. Every action, every word, every thought, all to serve your savior. 

“It feels so different,” he admits. “ but in a way it’s like nothing has changed.” he plays with the cross on his neck, fiddling with the metal over his chest between his fingers. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. “Everyone sees me the same, nothing has changed in my reputation. But the power I have here, I think God can feel it." His voice is thick, his tone almost eerie. you nod delicately.  “I dont think it’s a bad thing people see you the same. They’ve always had high respect for you.” 

He pauses, his brows furrowed and his breathing slowed. “Do you?” he questions. Your palms begin to sweat and you begin to feel squirmy. “What? Of course I do, we all-” you ramble but he hushes you. “I didn't ask about everyone, I asked if you did.” he says sternly. He stands from his seat and towers in front of you as your back presses against the pews. “Anakin, i, of  course I do.” You mumble. He looks down at you and runs his knuckles down your cheekbone. 

“Of course you do, you would never disobey your father, your god.” His voice is silk. Your breathing halts and your legs cross. Your face turns away from his gaze and he can feel your body become warm. 

“You Are devoted to your god, aren’t to.” his hand holds your face up to look at his and his thumb presses under your jawline. “Yes father.” you mumble. His eyes move to your lips and he slowly moves his fingers to trace the pink skin. His fingers begin to force their way into your mouth. You don’t even think about moving, telling him to stop. This was your priest, you wouldn’t disobey. “Suck.” he mutters. You obey, sucking gently and swirling your tongue around his flesh. Your eyes are interlocked with his. His face is cold as his jawline is tightly clenched. 

He pulls his fingers out and moves down onto his knees, his face eye level with your stomach. He rolls your flowy sunday dress up your thighs and his jaw falls slack as he looks up and down your lace panties. “Your dripping, god made you so beautiful.” he kisses up your thigh as he slides the lace down your legs and stuffs them in his pocket, having no intentions to give them back to you. He licks a long stripe down your folds and your hands go to grip his shoulders when your body starts to shudder under him. His still wet fingers make their way into you and your nails dig into his shoulders through his button up. His lips wrap around your clit and his fingers curl inside of you. You bite your lip to muffle the sounds threatening to escape your lips. “Don't be quiet, let god hear how  good you feel.” 

He continues to tease you with the tip of his tongue.  your lips part  and your head falls back against the wooden pews. “You taste like heaven” he murmurs, almost too quietly for you to catch.

 He removes his fingers, leaving you to whine due to the empty feeling hes given you. He leaves kisses up your clothed stomach and makes his way up your jaw as he starts to stand and undo his belt. His pants and boxers fall to his ankles and he pulls your hips up to meet his. He lines your folds up with him before pushing himself into you. Your back arches and you cry out from the intense burn from your stretching pussy. 

“You're a virgin aren't you.” anakin asks, gripping your hips tightly as he gives you a moment to adjust. You nod frantically and he chuckles. “God would be proud of you.” He kisses your temple and begins to move his hips. The burn slowly turns into an intense feeling of pure pleasure. Low moans escape you and the priest's lips as he thrusts hard and slow into you. 

Sweat beads drip down his forehead and darken his blonde curls. His lips move to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth. “Can you feel god through me?” he  grunts. “Yes, father.” you squeal. But with the way you are whining and clenching around him, he's convinced you are god, and this is heaven. 

His thrusting becomes quick and sloppy, your whining sounds like Hymns in his ear. He feels you clench around him and he holds onto your hips tighter, leaving dark bruises into your skin. “Let go, finish around your priest.” he commands, and you’ll always do what the father asks of you. 

You mind is fuzzy as he fucks you into oblivion. You feel the knot in your stomach unravel as anakin holds your body close to his chest, coating your walls with his orgasm. He pulls out, continuing to hold you close to him. He gently sets you on the pews. He takes your panties out of his pocket and wipes the slick around your folds to clean you up. He pulls his pants up and He slips them back into his pocket . He kisses your forehead and picks up his vestments and rubs your cheek with his thumb. “Will I be seeing you next Sunday, my dear?” Anakin asks. You nod and give him a small smile. “Yes father.” he smiles approvingly and walks to his office in the now empty church.  

AN//: OMGGG im so sorry this is late. This is my first one shot on tumblr and the first post for kinktober! Please like if you enjoyed and let me know if you would like to be tagged in the next post or to be removed from the current tag list. Love all. - beee! 

Tag list : @thesassypadawan @kirbie44danielle  @niconico33333777  @heelvr78 @goldie-00 @anakinstwinklebunny @enchant5d @bxbyysstuff @quandoquires @starwalkertales @rxaddix2 @necromancerrrs @s1aywalker @stephennglass @s1ck-skv1l @jyinnc @pxscalsofia

[sunsburns]

clark kent, who just loves to stare at you (18+)

he just thinks you’re so pretty. a view worth risking everything for.

and you think he’s pretty too—especially like this. his lashes flutter, eyes lidded but never closing, even as they well up, clouded with heat and desperation. his brows knit together, a deep crease forming between them, like he’s struggling to make sense of the pleasure, to keep himself tethered when all he really wants is to fall apart for you. his lips part on soft, shuddering moans, the kind he doesn’t bother holding back, doesn’t want to—he wants you to hear him, to know exactly what you’re doing to him.

his fingers thread into your hair, holding you there, tugging just a little whenever you take him deeper. you can feel the tension in his grip, the barely-there restraint as he fights the urge to pull you down, to chase the wet heat of your mouth. and then—

he whimpers.

a grown man, six-foot-whatever, broad and powerful in every sense of the word, whimpers at the sight of you gagging around his cock. and fuck, it makes something in you tighten, makes heat pool low in your stomach. you let him slip from your mouth, just enough to catch your breath, and watch how his eyes go wide, unfocused, his chest rising and falling like he’s forgetting how to breathe. you press a kiss to the flushed, sensitive tip, slow and deliberate, and he shudders—actually shudders—his grip tightening in your hair.

your lips trail down, tracing every thick vein along his length, your tongue flicking out to taste him before you work your way back up. never breaking eye contact. never letting him look away.

shit, you’re so pretty like this. he doesn’t want to look away.

and you don’t want him to, either. but you do love those fleeting moments when the pleasure overtakes him—when his head tips back suddenly, baring the length of his neck and throat, every muscle tensing under his flushed skin. you see the mess of bruises you’d left there, dark and blooming against his fair complexion. his jaw clenches, stomach going tight as his hips jerk forward, uncontrolled, needy.

yeah, you love to see him like that. that split-second loss of control before he drags his head back down again, like he physically can’t stand not looking at you.

there’s a tear slipping down his cheek now, his glasses fogged and slipping down his nose. his bottom lip trembles, wet and kiss-swollen, and then he’s muttering your name, voice thick with devotion and wrecked with pleasure. soft, sweet nothings spill from his mouth, each one punctuated by a moan, a whimper, a stuttered plea—

and then, breathless, ruined, he warns you he’s close.

[spencers-gun]

no one understands glasses reid like i do i need that man in ways that are so disrespectful to feminism. id do things to that man no one could believe ,i wanna see them glasses fogged up

[livelaughliushen]

Thank to @thief-of-eggs for the lovely fic that inspired this piece!

Maybe someday in the very distant future I’ll actually finish this but comics are absolutely not my forte and I’m throwing myself down flights to stairs trying to draw this so for now I hope this will suffice ヽ(；▽；)ノ

[jediavengers]

𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

warnings: 18+, smut, mild dumbification, degradation, slapping, forced orgasm, power dynamics, sub!anakin, dom!reader, crying, mentions of alcohol

pairing: sub!bratty!anakin x reader

“5 times. 5 times today you’ve pressed your luck, and i’m done with it.” You slam the door behind you as you storm in your apartment behind Anakin.

“You’re being dramatic, I didn’t even-“

You quickly turned on your heel. A harsh slap across his face to shut him up.

“Dramatic? Do you remember what happened the last time you spoke to me like that?” You snap, your words cold and quiet.

All day Anakin had been a little brat. He’d made several remarks that were unnecessarily rude, slapped your ass multiple times in public settings and tried using the force to touch you.

He was downright careless, doing these things where anyone could see. And you were done with his bullshit.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, realizing you weren’t messing around. No, you were mad.

He quickly listened, nearly running to your bedroom.

“Better be stripped and on the bed by the time I get back there.” You shout down the hallway, then you turn to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine. Maker knows you needed it.

After you quickly downed the glass, you stormed back to your shared bedroom. There he was, in all his naked glory, laying on his back with a worried look on his pretty face.

His painfully hard cock gave him away.

“Been acting up all day just because you’re fucking horny,” Your words were venomous and came out angrily as you leaned against the door frame. “You really thought I was going to give you what you want? After the way you acted today? Could’ve gotten us in big trouble if anyone saw.”

You took a few steps closer to the bed, causing him to squirm. His cock was painfully hard. The tip was a bright rosy pink, pre-cum leaking out of it and pooling at the base of his dick.

Anakin’s eyes were glossy and his lips were swollen from him biting them so hard. “I-I’m sorry- you’ve just been s-so preoccupied and I-“

“If you want my attention, you ask,” You spit, shaking your head and grabbing a vibrator out of your bedside table. “You don’t act like a little bitch in front of a bunch of people.”

Anakin’s eyes widen and he stutters. “I’m sorry! I p-promise I won’t do it again-“

“Isn’t that what you said last time? And last time I let you off the hook. You need a good reminder of why you are supposed to listen to what I tell you.”

You quickly climb onto the bed, your expression seething. Turning on the vibrator, you immediately put it on the highest setting. Then you harshly grab his dick, wrapping your hand tightly around his shaft.

Anakin lets out a yelp that’s a mixture of pleasure and pain.

“Shut up.” You seethe, gripping his cock harder. A few tears roll down his face and you briefly feel bad. But after feeling his cock twitch in your hands, your sympathy flutters away, knowing he was enjoying your anger.

You begin to quickly pump his cock and place the vibrator on his tip, giving him no foreplay or buildup.

Anakin lets out a cry of pain and he arches his back, pre-cum leaking out of his tip and soaking the vibrator.

“Please- no!” He cries out, causing you to smirk. He may act like he wasn’t enjoying it, but the little bitch was. He knew his safe word, and he wasn’t using it.

“No? No what? No, don’t stop?” You began pumping his cock faster, wet sounds bouncing off the walls as you squeezed him tightly.

“Gonna-“ Anakin whined.

“No. Don’t you dare fucking cum.”

You took the vibrator and your hand away, causing him to gasp and let out a cry. His cheeks were soaked with tears and bright red. His pretty curls clung to his sweaty forehead. “Please- please.. i’m so s-sorry.. i’ll do better. I’m your good boy, remember? You- you know i’m your good boy!”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You want to be a good boy? Fucking act like one.”

You began to aggressively pump his dick again and placed the vibrator at his ballsack. Anakin threw his head back and began to squirm, crying out. “Please!” He sobbed.

“Please? You’re so pathetic. Fine, cum.” You chided, stroking him quickly. You felt his cock twitch in your hands and you squeezed right below his tip, pumping him shallowly to make him cum.

God, he was pathetic.

He let out the most pornographic sounds as he came, spurts upon spurts of his seed squirting onto his stomach, your hands and some on the bed.

You didn’t stop there. Your stroking got quicker and more aggressive. “Give me another one, Ani. Come on.”

Anakin tried to squirm away, but you angrily squeezed his cock, causing him to yelp. “No-please! Stop!”

“Shut the hell up.” You demand, continuing to stroke him at an animalistic pace.

Anakin let out a loud moan, his cock twitching in your hands and spurting more of his seed out onto his stomach.

You egged him through his second orgasm and pulled away, shaking your head. “Next time you act like a little child, you remember this. Cause I’m not finished with you.”