#hes just like that though. what can you do

[peachesofteal]

Raspberry Girl Previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader CW: 18+ mdni, Reader POV.

His name is Simon.  

He’s still stuck in your mind as Captain Riley, like it’s dug in there, claws unwilling to let go, and he says you don’t have to call him Simon if you don’t want to. Which is comforting, in its own strange way. 

Comforting just like his presence, the one that’s been at the bakery almost every day. You’ve been trying to keep to yourself, agonizing over the moment when it all comes crashing down, when he figures out how weird you are, but it’s not that easy.

He doesn’t let you hide. 

“What do you do when you’re not at work?” You resist the urge to wring your hands together, keeping your focus on the sidewalk, concentrating on the cracks, the leaves. 

You’re on a walk. With him. He asked you earlier when he came by as you were closing up, before you moved on to the rest of your work. 

“Take a break. Walk with me.” 

You couldn’t say no, though it took longer than it should have to get your “yes” out. 

He didn’t rush you. He never does. 

“Um,” You’re not much of a doer. You bake, you go home, you read, you watch the occasional tv show or movie, you work on recipes. You learned to embroider last year, and sometimes you add little flowers or such here and there to your work aprons but there’s nothing outside those things, no extracurriculars or exercise, no circle of friends to get a drink with on the weekends. Sometimes you hang out with Mara, who works the front at the bakery, but it’s rare. You’re not good with friendships usually. You keep to yourself, and that’s fine. Everything is easier that way. 

You guess Captain Riley could be considered a hobby. All the minutes you’ve spent holding your breath and watching the front door, waiting for him to walk through and make his way to the counter, all the times you’ve caught yourself staring at his hands, thick wrists and palms the size of dinner plates. He could probably crush a skull between them, crush you. It’s unhealthy, the way you think of him. The way you daydream about a man who’s probably old enough to be your father. The way you close your eyes in the middle of the day when it’s busy and you’re overwhelmed and the sound of the dishwasher is grating on you, just to picture his face, hear him calling you baby, feel his-

He says your name. Oh right. 

You shrug, trying to feign indifference, trying to brush it off. “I’m usually at home. Work takes it out of me.” That’s true. Work can be exhausting. Bending, scraping, kneading, lifting giant mixing bowls, pulling dough until you’re tired. Wrists, elbows, neck, all of them, ache. Price you pay for passion, you suppose. “I’m pretty boring.” 

“No you’re not. Just a bit nervous, yeah?” Your stomach twists. 

“I like to stick to the things I know, I guess.” 

“Less scary?” The truth is full of shame and you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to raise a shield that doesn’t exist. A smoke and mirror act that wouldn’t fool anyone. 

“Yeah, less scary.” He’s silent for a beat, and then turns to face you on the sidewalk, a finger under your chin, tipping your head back until your eyes are locked on his. 

“It’s okay, y’know?” Embarrassment floods, fire burning in your cheeks, and he tsks, wiping one of the tears trying to trickle down your skin. “None o’ that.” You smile, but it’s hollow. 

“Sorry.” 

“None of that either,” he bites out, and your spine straightens like a string has been pulled from your tailbone up through your neck. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it.” With what? With you? He’s joking. You almost snort, but the seriousness in his gaze stops you short. Steals your breath. 

You’ve made it around the block already, standing in the parking lot of the bakery, twilight purple and orange shining in the reflection of the big front window. Disappointment settles in your stomach like lead. He’s going to leave now, go back to wherever it is he goes, and you’ll be alone, elbows deep in cream and sugar, trying not to think about him for the hundredth, thousandth time. 

Might as well rip the band-aid off. “Well, um. Thanks f-for, uh…” if you say thanks for the walk, will you sound dumb? Does that make it sound like you’re a dog or something he took for a stroll? “The walk.” Yep. Dumb. 

“Goin’ back to work?” 

“Mhm. I’ve got this catering order for early pick up tomorrow.” 

“What’re you making?” 

“Meringue. Lemon. Pies.” You cringe, but he places a hand on your shoulder. It’s warm, warm like a blanket, a soft fuzzy thing you can curl up with in front of a fire. “Meringue is really the thing about the pies. The rest of it doesn’t really matter, that’s why I- ah… why I put it first.” The two of you drift towards the back door, more so you in his wake, and when he closes it behind the two of you, it’s natural, you don’t even question it. Him. 

“It’s science.” You place the bowl in front of where he’s sitting on a stool, and try not to look at the bulk of his thighs. He’s in some sort of uniform, but it’s more casual, less stiff. The fabric breathes and stretches across his body, his chest, his middle… the heaviness of his legs. The room is suddenly very hot, and you try to shake the distraction off. “All of baking is a science, actually. Cooking, you can salvage anything. Cooking is easy. Baking? Baking is chemistry.” You pull the cradle of eggs over, and roll one in your hand before cracking it, separating yolk from white. “Meringue is a perfect example. It only has four ingredients. How hard can it be?” You feel a little thrill roll through you, the kind of excitement you get when you’re just about to start turning a handful of ingredients into something, and the pressure builds up in your chest, muscles in your arms and neck going tight as you fight against an overzealous outburst. You tense so hard you shake for a second before you get a hold of yourself. “If the eggs aren’t the right temperature, if the bowl isn’t clean enough, if you add the sugar too fast, it all falls apart. The protein in the egg whites mix with the sugar and make the meringue stable, it's literally chemistry. That's the cool thing about it.” You look between him and the hand mixer, and everything dries up. You’re suddenly very aware you’ve been prattling on about how to make meringue like he cares, and you have to hold onto the edge of the butcher’s block to practically keep yourself up. The mortification is enormous and threatens to drown you in its viciousness, vile things playing on a loop inside your head as you grapple with what’s just happened. Stupid. 

He’s standing before you can blink. “What’s wrong?” 

“N-nothing, I- I just uh… I’m sorry.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

“For what?” You shake your head, but he doesn’t let it go, just comes around to the side and covers your hand with his. Warm again. Safe. “Tell me what’s wrong sweetheart.” The gentle coax in his voice turns stern, and you find yourself obeying before you can stop it. 

“Meringue, it’s so… w-why would you care about meringue?” 

“I don’t know anything about meringue,” he rubs two knuckles against the apple of your cheek, “you were teaching me.” 

“Oh.” 

“Y’know you go somewhere else when you talk about baking?” 

“What? I do?” He nods. 

“You’re free from the scary bits. You’re excited and… weightless. It’s precious,” he cups your face, touch slow and careful, “like you, precious little girl.” The air in the room has vanished, and your knees go weak, struggling to support you as your pulse races, butterflies swarming in the pit of your stomach. 

“C-captain Riley- I-” He steps back, your heart free falls to the floor. He’s studying you like there’s a riddle to be solved, analytical and hungry, something razor sharp and rolling with darkness lurking behind it all. It’s so intense, too intense, but fleeting, and vanishes within a second. A light’s been snuffed out, leaving you in the cold and clueless. 

“Will you teach me the rest?” 

“Um, yes?” It doesn’t sound like the human language. More like a mouse’s squeak, and you glance around, trying to get your bearings as he leans against the table with his arms crossed. 

It takes you a minute, or ten, to get back in the rhythm. You have to start over, which is fine, but you’re shivering a bit too much to handle the yolk separation, a different kind of anxiety rattling in your bones. It’s not until he palms the small of your back and tells you to take your time, that you settle and succeed. 

By the time it’s over, you’ve made ten pies for your order and one extra. 

“Do you want to try?” You hand him a fork. 

“Course.” You’re on the edge of your seat as he takes his first bite, watching his jaw move, his throat bobbing with each swallow. Then he takes another, and another, and another until half the pie is almost gone. You try to smother your giggle, but the effort is paltry, and he smiles at you in return. “Somethin’ funny?” Your teeth press into your bottom lip so hard it stings. 

“Nope, uh… do you like it?” 

“It’s delicious sweetheart. You’re really good at this.” Tingles of pride flush through you from fingers to toes, and you bounce on the balls of your feet a little bit. 

“I’ll send the rest home with you.” You slide the pie tin into a box and he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to!” You blurt, and then bite your tongue, looking down at peaks of meringue. “I w-want to, it’s my-” you snap ‘love language’ back before it manages to escape, horrified at yourself. “I like it, feeding you, um, feeding people.” You’re sweating. You can feel it starting to bead along your spine, the back of your neck, and you wonder if you’ll get hot enough to melt into the floor and disappear. 

“If you’re sure,” he murmurs as he forks another piece of the pie free. “You didn’t have any though.” 

“Oh,” it’s your factory setting response at this point. Oh. Can’t you think of anything else? “Th-that’s okay, I don’t always eat my own… stuff.” 

“Why’s that?” You’ve turned fully towards him now, and he’s still so close, close enough to see the ribbons of caramel in his irises. 

“It’s not for me, usually. I mean, I eat of course, and taste test, but I don’t do it for me. I do it as a job and for other people.” 

“Hmm. That’s a shame,” the bite is still sitting there, waiting, and you’re just about to ask him if he’s going to eat it when he lifts it to your lips. “Open.” 

It’s not a request. It’s an order, a directive, and your thighs squeeze into one another, riptide of confusing want, desire, dragging you out to sea. 

Your lips part- 

and then Captain Riley is feeding you. It’s a small bite, tart-sweet on your tongue. Lemon and sugar crusted clouds linger as you swallow, but nothing matters except for the man in front of you, pulling a fork from your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours- 

“Good girl.” Heaven. Hell. Words disappear like you never learned a single vowel. Your body becomes a never ending live wire. You’re out of your element, you don’t even have an element, not truly. Your element is here, in kitchen of the bakery, alone with flour and sugar and piping bags. Your element isn’t… it’s not this. Not this man, this older man, this brutally handsome man who towers over you, this man with his perfectly imperfect nose and scar on his cheek, with big hands and a voice you could drown in. Not this man standing in front of you, telling you you’re a good girl, staring like he wants to consume you. “How’s that?” 

“U-uh, um. It’s… it’s good.” You don’t recognize your voice. It’s high pitched and trembling, the waver it in matching the shaking of your limbs, your entire body. 

“Do you want another?” Yes. No. You don’t know. 

“I…” you’re flailing, but he instead of pushing you, instead of trying to fit a circle into a square, he merely thumbs your cheek, drags the calloused pad down to ghost across your bottom lip.  

“It’s okay baby, take your time. Do you want another bite?” There’s a hummingbird in your chest, trilling a million miles a minute, and you nod automatically. 

“Please.” You whisper, and he obliges. You don’t care to have another bite of pie, but you do want more of this. So much more of something you’re not sure you can have, something you definitely don’t understand. Some sort of dream that doesn’t happen for people like you. 

Your phone vibrates. It lights up on the other side of the table and your stomach pitches, first out of panic, and then out of dread. 

Spell broken. Fairytale over. 

“That’s my bedtime. My bedtime reminder, I mean.” You just told him you have a bedtime like you’re five. Nice. “I’m usually in bed… by now. I get up really early on some days for prep and other stuff, and I’m a ten hours of sleep a night kind of girl, so, uh, I try to stay consistent with my routines and stuff, but I’m pretty bad at it. That’s why I have the alarm…” Stop talking. 

“I’m sorry I kept you.” 

“No!” You reach for him and then think better of it, fisting your hand at your side instead. “N-no, I’m glad you’re here. I just have this early pick up tomorrow, but it’s no big deal, I’ll-” 

“go home and go to bed. Do you have anything else you need to do?” Stern again, like he's serious about enforcing your bedtime, like he cares about you getting enough sleep. 

“Not really, I just leave the dishes in the sink for tomorrow.” He tucks the pie box into his arm and motions to the back door. 

“I’ll wait for you to lock up.” 

He gives you his number and makes you promise to text him when you get home, which you do, dutifully, laying in bed, curled up beneath your blankets, typing out a hazy message with one eye open. 

>Home. In bed. Thanks for hanging out. 

The text back comes only a few minutes later. 

>Goodnight sweetheart. 

>Goodnight Captain Riley. 

[gospelica]

"what's this 'bout a boy?"

your pervy uncle sukuna has you bent over his knee like you're about to be spanked. but rather than hit the flesh of your ass with his calloused hands, he's plunging two fingers meanly into your cunt like you deserve a punishment :(

it's not your fault! you want to say that, to beg for him to go easy on you but every time you open your pretty lips to speak all that comes out is desperate moans and pleads for more. he curls his fingers inside of you every now and then, makes you see stars just to pull that pleasure from you!

you can't be too loud, though, your parents are only in the other room. uncle sukuna is meant to be here for a family dinner, one in which he'll exchange weird jabs with your father and make your mother turn her nose up all the while he's digging nails into your thigh under the table. you haven't seen him in months now, not since the last time he visited and you ended face-down-ass-up on your pretty comforter taking his cock so deep you forgot your own name.

as if you could settle for boys your age after a taste of him.

sukuna stops his movements and, with his free hand, forces your chin up to look at him the best you can from where you're bent over his knee. "fuckin' answer me. who's the boy?"

"no one!"

"lying brat, you want me to make you cry again?"

uncle sukuna had overheard an exchange between you and your mother when he first showed up. you were telling him about a boy from your college classes that had asked you out: sweet, well mannered, probably a bore in the bedroom. your mother encouraged it, because of course she thinks you're rather lonely. after all, you've never brought a man home! she just doesn't know it's because your uncle would find a way to make his murder as cruel as possible... :(

"'m not even interested in him," you have to breathe through your mouth, squeezing around sukunas fingers which are still stalled inside of you. "he asked me out. i said no. i can't... i can't be with other guys now that i have you."

there's silence. you know your uncle doesn't like that sappy shit. he's the type to fuck you rough and mean and leave you shaking just to throw a teasing 'love you' over his shoulder as he's leaving, just to watch your eyes widen as you stand between your oblivious parents. but you also know that he's possessive. that he'll do anything he can to stake his claim on you, though because of the secrecy of your relationship that usually means inhibiting your ability to sit down without wincing for a week.

"what, you think i'm your boyfriend or something?" his fingers start up again, making your pussy squelch as he thrusts them into you at a newer, meaner pace. "got some news for you about our relationship, brat."

"no i know," you gasp as he curls his fingers up again. you're so close, so fucking close it hurts. you're digging your nails into his leg though he doesn't seem to mind at all. "still. don't want anyone else... fuuuuck, uncle sukuna, right there, please.."

you think he laughs. or maybe moans as you definitely break skin with how hard you're digging into him. he speeds up, starts rubbing your needy little clit in fast circles until you're trying to keep quiet when your orgasm crashes over you.

"look at you, talking bout boys when you can't even last with two of my fingers inside this little cunt. fucking pathetic."

he pulls his fingers out just to sharply pinch your clit before moving you to better sit on his strong lap. "i'll drive you to classes tomorrow."

you're a little too stupid from your orgasm to get his point. "what?"

"no one knows i'm your uncle. hell, you hardly knew me yourself til i started showing up. i'll drive you, walk you in, show everyone you're spoken for."

"am i spoken for?"

"tch. don't play fuckin' dumb."

[slapmeshigaraki]

"You're pretty when you cry."

summary: uhhh meanie!rafayel likes it when you squirt...to put it simply

cw: pussy slapping, really condescending, slut shaming, daddy

"No no no more talking. You lost your speaking privileges." The usually soft-spoken boy was suddenly enraged, growling through his gritted teeth as he slammed his hips into you from behind, snaking his free hand around your body and covering your mouth.

"You should be thanking me, honestly. It's not like you deserve to feel good, do you? Brats shouldn't get to come at all. I'm doing you a favor, aren't I sweet?" Your muffled screams only made him fuck into you faster, your sticky skin smacking against his, creating such filthy sounds--god, it was all making him so painfully hard. Tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes now as he forced your face down into the mattress, reveling in the way he could see every muscle in your back tense and contract whenever he pushed himself into you.

"Fuuuck, you're so wet, angel. You don't like this, do you? You getting off on being bullied? Only a slut would like that--you're not a slut, are you baby?" He released your mouth, anticipating an answer, but only moans left your lips.

"Answer me and don't fucking lie." His hips stilled at once, a few free fingers sliding down between your legs, threatening to slam down onto your clit if he didn't hear what he wanted to.

"No not a slut--fuckk please keep fucking me."

"Mmmmh see, princess that was a lie. Do you think a good girl's cunt would be this fucking nasty?" Without warning, he pulled out entirely, leaving your hole to clench around nothing as he placed a harsh slap onto your cunt. You screamed out at the sensation, quickly trying to force your legs closed, but it was no use, as Rafayel forced your thighs apart with one of his own.

"Don't try to run now. You wanted this remember. You were the one using this dirty fucking mouth to beg me earlier, 'pleaseee daddy, just touch me.' I'm touching you now, aren't I baby? What do we say when someone gives us a gift?."

"Thank you thank you..." Another hard smack landed on your clit, forcing a shriek out of your mouth.

"I said thank you!" You protested at the unwarranted punishment only to be met with another harsh spank.

"I heard you." He did, but that didn't mean he was going to stop. The way your cunt was soaking his fingers and the way little gasps left your lips each time he slapped your swollen clit was far too entertaining. It was only a matter of time before your struggled screeches turned into moans, your hips gently grinding back against his palm at every point of contact.

"Please..."

"Please what? What do you want, baby, hm? Come on use your big girl words."

"Please, can I cum?" He couldn't help but to laugh at the pathetic request.

"Be more specific. What do you want me to keep doing, huh? What is it exactly that's about to make you cum all over my fucking hand?"

"Please keep slapping my cunt, daddy." There it was... he had you right where he wanted you--gasping and writhing beneath his touch, making a little puddle of drool on the sheets, begging him to do something so degrading to you. He had won and Rafayel was anything but a humble champion.

"Aww of course I will, pretty girl. Go ahead and cum for me. Fuckkkk that's it. This pussy is so fucking sloppy for my fingers, come on. Give it to me, angel--it's mine...Shittt what a creamy mess." A few more smacks and you were cumming, tits smushed against the mattress, back arched, ass pressed back into Rafayel's fingers as incoherent little mumbles left your mouth. Much to his surprise though, you weren't just cumming from him slapping your clit--you were squirting. A stream of wetness covered your thighs and his torso, his eyes widened at the sight as he continued forcing his palm down against your flesh.

"Fuckkk you are sick. Making a puddle like this all over me--you tryna mark your territory or something, baby?" Before you could answer you felt his length slam past your entrance once again, somehow stretching you more than before as you quivered and shook, your orgasm still coursing through your body.

"Wait wait please--fuck slow down..." It was no use, his palm was against your mouth once more, your juices covering his skin, the taste of your own wetness soaking your lips.

"Speaking privileges revoked, once again. If you're not gonna use your mouth to say something smart, then you should just be quiet all together, huh? You're sick, aren't you? You're a nasty slut--let daddy give you your medicine, baby. Let me make you a good girl again." His grip on your face forced your back to arch even more than before, pulling you up from the mattress, your back against his chest. It wasn't until now that he saw your face, eyes low, hair glued to your forehead with sweat, your neck glistening from the spit that had dripped down past your lips--but it was the tears that he liked the most, the way your little wet eyelashes looked, the pouty pleading gaze... he could've came right then.

"Fuck...can I tell you something, sweet girl?" All you could do was sob and moan out against his palm.

"You're pretty when you cry." he whispered, placing the softest kiss to your wet cheek. "Make another mess for me, will you? I wanna see this pussy cry again too, angel."

a/n: okayyyy sorry for being MIA. full transparency, i started taking antidepressants a few weeks ago and they make me have like NO sex drive at all. until today i randomly thought about fucking rafayel, so i decided to fill one of my asks. anywayyyy hope you enjoy, specifically the person that asked for this. have a good day, lovelies xx

[egophiliac]

ANNIVERSARY GROOVY BOYBAND! THEY ALL LOOK SO GOOD, I also love the hades reference with idia! Ik ur probably really swamped with the book 7 brain rot but I wanted to know ur thoughts. I also wanted to mention that I am so card deprived I feel like I need a replacement event to take tsumderlands place

AUGH NO I LOVE THEM. 😭 UGH now I really have to think about if I want to try pulling for Grim again. dangit. heck. I already got his little pedestal to add my guest room shrine, but...now I kinda need the boss himself...

also, the implications of it not being an OB thing, Idia can just. Do That? apparently? do you think he ever just sometimes does it by accident? what am I saying, he absolutely sometimes does it by accident.

gosh though. this event has been SO cute in general! I was wondering who'd get the focus for year 5; I could not be happier that the answer is apparently EVERYBODY. :D all the dorms get their own special songs! so many cute little scenes!!! the lowest of stakes bringing out the highest of pettiness in everyone!!!!!! it's excellent.

(also, because I will make literally anything about my diaboys...I know these events are typically sorta, let's say chronologically unmoored with regards to story. but the further implications that this takes place pre-episode 7/Malleus' Big Existential Crisis, and yet...some of these lines?)

[cherryyluvs]

Can you write some smut of mark?🫣 Totally understand if you ignore this. Love your fanfics 🥹

Yes ma’am🫡

Don't Wake Up My Parents

You're staying over at Mark’s house. He sneaks into the room late at night and things get… risky ◝(๑>𐃷•́๑)◜

You were staying over at Mark’s house, sleeping in his bed while he crashed on the floor in a different room. This was supposed to be innocent right? Just friends having a sleepover and all that. But it was midnight and yet here you are laying in bed wide awake, hearing the soft hum of the ceiling fan doing nothing to calm the heat building up in your body.

You moved under the blanket, the fabric of Mark's shirt brushed against your bare thighs. You had stolen it earlier to sleep in, it smelled just like him.. clean and a little sweet. You bit your lip, rubbing your legs together as you felt something in between your legs.

Your heart raced as you heard soft footsteps approaching the bedroom door. The door creaked open, you quickly sat up. Heart pounding in the dark.

“Mark?” He didn’t answer but you could hear him. The soft sound of his footsteps padding across the carpet. “you awake?" Mark whispered, his voice low and rough with sleep. He took a few more steps closer to the bed. Until you could make out his features in the moonlight filtering through the window. Then the bed dipped beneath his weight as he slid under the covers with you.

"Couldn’t sleep” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the hum of the fan.

“Me neither” He was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and could smell the clean scent of his. His arm brushed against your thigh, you didn't even notice how high his shirt had ridden up, peeking at his abs. Until his fingers intertwined with yours, his breath hitching. “Mark..” you whispered. Feeling butterflies in your stomach as he slid closer to you. His face now mere inches from your own.

“You know you shouldn't let me this close.” He whispered, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress your bare skin. “But you're not stopping me.”

You felt warmth on your cheeks “yea–” before you could say another word he pressed his finger against your lips. “Shh”

“My parents are asleep” your heart raced as his hand went down to your waist, fingertips slowly tracing circles. “You look so good in my shirt” he murmured. His lips were right by your ear, breath hot and shaky. “mark ..”

“Tell me to stop” he whispered, lips trailing down to your neck. You gasped, back arching as he softly sucked at the sensitive skin.

You couldn't and didn't, instead you grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to yours. Mark groaned into the kiss, his body pressing against yours. “Mhmm, you taste so good.” whispering against your mouth as his hands slide down, fingers slipping into the waistband of your panties.

You moaned softly when his finger rubbed your clit, body jolting at the contact. “You have to be quiet, unless you want them to hear” You slowly nodded, legs shaking as he pushed a finger inside you.

His pace was slow and steady, his forehead pressed against yours as he watched you struggle beneath him, “You're so wet for me already” pulling his hand out of your panties. Slowly going up in your shirt, caressing and squeezing your breasts gently, as he grinds his hips against yours, You can feel the hardness though his pajama pants, the heat making you squirm. “Please” You whimpered.

“Please what?” his hand stood still. “Use your words”

“I want you” he smirks, pushing his boxers down just enough, teasing your entrance with the tip. “You sure?

“Yes” Without hesitation he pushes it inside you, slow and deep, stretching you inch by inch until you are gasping into his mouth.

He starts to move, hips rolling in a steady rhythm. Each thrust sending waves of pleasure. Your walls clenching around his throbbing length. “I love the way you feel around me” he moans softly.

You bit your lip, muffling the sounds that threatened to spill out, his hand covering your lips. “You're gonna wake them up” he teased “Is that what you want?”

The thought of Debbie and Nolan walking in on you guys was something you didn't want to think of.

You shook your head frantically. Tears gathering at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure. “You sure?” His thrusts slowed “Because you're squeezing me so tight right now”

The bed creaks and shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, the headboard slamming against the wall. The slapping of skin on skin, your mingled moans and gasps. “Ungh”

Your back arched as your orgasm tore through you. Mark groaned low. He takes a moment to catch his breath, slowly pulling out his cock, pussy dripping. You can feel the warm thick cum start to leak out and trickle down.

You take a good lock at it, girthy and a white milky ring around the base of his cock.

Staring at each other, giggling as he pulls you into his chest. “Think they heard us?” you whispered breathlessly.

Mark’s lips curled into a lazy satisfied smile. “Guess we'll find out tomorrow.”

[landoughnut]

Kiss Me

♡ masterlist - request!

♡ pairing - oscar piastri x popstar!fem!reader (fc - tate mcrae)

♡ summary - oscar fancied the worlds current favorite popstar, but he won't give up until she notices him

♡ warnings - ooc oscar (very unshy), fluff, banter, suggestive(ish)

♡ w/c & a/n - smau | I have the SAT tmr but here I am writing fics instead 🫶🏻 yolo

oscarpiastri FIRST 😫 WOW

username damn he's here before me and I was here in like 2 seconds

username I respect the grind oscar 🙏

username I wonder if she'll ever notice him

oscarpiastri I'd like to believe she will 😔

username omg hi king never give up 🗣️

oscarpiastri I wish I was there 😿 I also wish I was that mic

username AYOO real

oscarpiastri erm actually you're not supposed to agree 👍

username I'm waiting for this grid to finally find her account

username lando !!!

username GORGEOUSSSS ♥︎ by author

username omg I was there best concert EVERRR ♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri #jealous

username it's alright race boy you were there in spirit 🙂

username oscarpiastri aren't you like a millionaire? why don't you just buy tickets

oscarpiastri username unfortunately I can't with traveling for racing, maybe I can sneak away though 😈

mclaren oscarpiastri no 🎀

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[neigepomme]

˙ ✩°˖ ✈️ more than you'll ever know / caleb x reader

synopsis; you tell caleb that you love him — except you reaaaaally tell him that you love him.

🍎 pomme's notes — i was listening to violet crazy by dpr ian while writing this!! it's so calebcore, do listen to it..

⋆ 700 words / fluff / reader is gender neutral / 2nd person

“caleb?”

“mmh?”

“i love you.”

the brunette stands in the kitchen, preparing lunch for the both of you when you hear the sound of chopsticks falling from his hands. after picking them up with his evol, he turns slowly to face you, showcasing a nonchalant expression — though his growing smile and the light flush on his cheeks betray that nonchalance.

“yeah? to what do i owe this love declaration?”

you stand up and stride towards him quickly, with a grin plastered on your face now. 

“i love you, caleb. i love you!”

he chuckled, the blush on his cheek becoming more and more prominent. putting down the cooking utensils, he leans against the counter and crosses his arms in front of his chest, a smug expression on his face. 

“love you too, pips. did you break one of my model airplanes? is this your attempt at softening the blow?”

now it's your turn to giggle a bit while shaking your head. even if you did break one of his things, caleb wouldn't ever be mad, and he's made sure you knew that. you get even closer to him, looking up at his curious eyes — he really held the universe within them.

“i love you! i love you i love you i love you, i loooooove you!!”

caleb was at a loss. akin to a puppy, he tilted his head in lovestruck confusion. hearing you tell him you love him unprompted was so very welcomed, but he still couldn't shake off the shyness overcoming him, or the rosy red blush taking over his face.

it's not like he didn't know you loved him. you always went above and beyond to let him know. bookmarking recipes using his favorite type of apples, sending him puppy videos that reminded you of him, the little trinkets and matching items you'd send over to his place in skyhaven with little "i miss you always" notes — he felt loved, though a bit undeserving of your devotion.

his job as a colonel within the fleet forced him to do some.. unsavory stuff that you wouldn't have tolerated from anyone, except caleb wasn't just anyone. time and time again, you reassure him that no matter what he's done, no matter what demons he's fighting on his own, he'll always have a place to come home to. your love is unconditional, and you'll always be there welcoming him with open arms.

in return, caleb showered you in love too. never too shy to declare how much he adored you, always spoiling you (if he was going to do unethical things within the fleet, he sure as hell was going to get paid accordingly) and making sure you felt loved, no matter if he was up in skyhaven or by your side in linkon. he's in the deepspace tunnel? no need to worry, because he made sure you'd receive a delivery of your favorite flowers daily, with little love letters he carefully wrote for you to read. craving his signature braised chicken wings? in your fridge was a box of them that he made sure to prepare before he took the train back to skyhaven. if he wasn't there in person, you could hug the little airplane plushie he spritzed with his cologne, and when he was there? you'd feel the warmth of his embrace whenever your heart desired.

but man, hearing you confess your love to him in such a straightforward manner would always make his heart skip a beat. he's pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of you clearing your throat and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“earth to my pilot? i love you.”

caleb smiles genuinely and wraps his arms tightly around your waist in return, relaxing into you. his face hides in the crook of your neck when you feel a droplet of water on your skin, and you swear you could hear a slight sniffle — but before you can look down at him and ask what's wrong, you get interrupted by a soft kiss on the underside of your jaw.

“i love you too. more than you'll ever know.”

🍎 pomme's final notes — 20 pulls until i can get farspace deprivation everyone cheer for me rq..

also thinking about him makes me feel so emo.. i think he deserves a vacation and to be cared for for once!! love me a provider but maaaan i wish caleb could understand that he's loved with no expectations like. he is so selfless oh my shayla 💔💔

[whore-ibly-hot]

"What it takes to lead."

Yan!Dictator x Fem!Reader x Yan!Next in line.

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Non-con, mentions of violence, fascism, groping, p-in-v sex, sexism, questionable father son Dynamics, power dynamics, leather play.

AN: I recently began reading @yanderedrabbles works and they broke my brain, so when I saw they had a Yan!Dictator planned it inspired me. This is... meh.

You don't know how this could've happened.

It was supposed to be a routine visit. Your father was a well off oil baron, owning one of the largest refineries in America, not counting his export deals. You had gone with him, unaware of the tense political state of Dela Marina.

Admittedly, the American government was somewhat aware of the rulers less than conventional methods of maintaining control. Camps, strict surveillance, and a cutting off of outside media aside from those approved by the Dela Marina Media council, but for America's political interests, and more importantly your father's bank, the warnings signs went ignored.

It started off as just a nice, tropical vacation. White sand beaches, exotic meals, and a blaring tan from the sun. However, something soon seemed a bit off. The leader, El presidente Ramon Ballesteros, gave you chills. He said nice things, talked about his vision for Dela Marina, how he would shape the land and people to 'true culture'. It would be inspiring, if his faze didn't feel so dark, so imposing. It was as if hew was analyzing everything, every move you made.

Still, Féliz calmed you a bit. The son of Ramon, as close to a prince as you could be in this 'democracy'. He was nothing like his father. Quiet, more subdued, though just as analytical. His father takes thing in while he speaks, but Feliz stays behind, letting his father do the talking.

"Hello there, señorita." Feliz had approached you the night of the welcome dinner, a lavish affair with Del Marina's finest chefs on hand. "My father wanted me to welcome you personally, we are both youths, uh, leader of the future, he says. Your countries, and mine." He seems awkward repeating his father propaganda. Despite this, you like him. He's funny, he tells you about growing up in Del Marina, about the culture, the people. "You have to go to the beach with me, there all white sand. Is beautiful, and if we go early enough, we can see the starfish beach." You took him up on all his outings, you could tell he was deeply alone, at his core.

"Feliz?" You had asked once. "Do you... get out much? I mean, I'm one for decadence. Whole point of having a daddy with money is spending it." You laugh. You were privileged. You knew it, you embraced it. You had never had to worry about anything, never had a reason to loop beyond at the suffering of the others. Why focus on all that?

"No, I don't. It's tense, in Del Marina. Their are Terroristas, rebels. Mis padre would rather me be here, where its safer. Besides, partying isn't for me. I have to learn how to lead, to study and to help people. My people." He'd explained, fiddling with the white pressed uniform he so often wore, a less refined and adorned version of his fathers. "Loosen up." You had suggested. "We can have some fun, we're friends now, yeah? Let's go party!" Feliz had never wanted really to go to a club, to spend time with the privileged people while he knew others, those being exploitated, were suffering. But you were so, so pretty, and the only friend he felt he had. You made him feel special, not for bring the son of the president, or 'Del Marina's future'. You made him feel special for being him. He agreed.

He was terrified when you both snuck out, naturally it didn't take long for the guards to drag the both of you back to the palace, you kicked and yelled while he went quietly. He feared his father would turn his anger to you, he was ready to take the brunt of the anger. However, his father seems amused. You laugh along with his dad, not sensing the chilling undertone.

"Your son, and the american girl, Presidente." A guard said, bowing, hand over hid chest. "They were seen heading to a club on the north side."

"Ah, let them go." Ramon grins, waving a hand as the guards back off. "Kids, ey? Even at twenty, they still can't help.but wander off. It's good, independence. To think, to have fun. Kids behave this way, it's expected. Dismissed." The guards leave, and he steps down to you. "I ought to thank you, you know? No one has ever gotten my son quite so out of his shell. Feliz, I've tried to inspire that boldness in you, I suppose I didn't realize it would take such a lovely young lady to do so." Felix goes red, looking down. He knows this is a facade, and still can sense the danger in the room. Ramon takes your hand, kissing it. "But i should have known, he is his fathers son, and we are both red blooded men, yes?" He chuckles to himself.

"I didn't mean any harm, I just wanted to have some fun. And I thought maybe Feliz needed a friend." You mumble, heels scuffing the floor awkwardly. Still; you aren't sorry. "He needed a break. To live."

The president goes silent, but then nods, laughing with his arms going. "Of course! Dis boy of mine, always with the working, he wants to be like his papa. It's honorable, but a young man still needs to let loose while he's young. Next time, all I ask is you take an escort. These terroristas planning Del Marina won't care about your intentions, just the message hurting you would send." His gaze grows serious, and you gulps.

"Ah, y-yeah. I'll keep that in mind." You look down, stepping away. "I'll probably go to bed, I've had enough fun. Goodnight, Presidente." He smiles, watching as you turn to Feliz. The tan boy looks through his dark locks, trying to hide his obvious flush from his father. You didn't need any reason to be made to stay here, and he knew his dad. "Night, Feliz." You call, and he just sends you a weak wave. Worried you upset him, you scurry off. The moment you slip out of the heavy wooden door of the presidente's office; his happy and jovial expression falls, mask melting away.

"Why this sudden change in you?" "Papa, please, I didn't mean anything by it, it was all my idea-" His fathers raised hand silences him. "Enough, Feliz." Ramon sighs, strolling to his desk cabinets, hand running across the mahogany surface as he opens up a velvet box, pulling out a bottle of scotch. "I didn’t lie to you, I'm not angry. I wish that your judgment had not been blinded and you had simply brought a guard-" He pours to crystal glasses, the brown liquid filling the clear, ornate glasses. "But I'm proud none the less. You made a choice, a bold one. Hm, we drink, you're becoming a man!"

Feliz winces at the glass sliding towards him, but knows his father won't take no gore an answer. "It was nothing, Papa. Just a quick outing, she was bored and I went with."

"Oh-ho, it was more than that, my son. It's okay, I'm older, but I'm still a man. I'm not immune to the charms of a woman. She is beautiful, no?" Ramon takes a sip, relishing in the burn of the drink. "This is the real infatuation you've had, isn't it."

"Its not an infatuation, she's a friend and-" His father glares, he knows he hates liars. "I... I like her, of course. But its nothing serious, no more than a crush."

"Even a crush is serious for a stoic, quiet man like you, Feliz." His dad leans forward to lift his chin up a bit. "I've never seen you take to anyone like this, that's what makes it serious." Harshly patting the young man's cheek, he leans back. "Her Father is a great ally, a man willing to buy the vast amount of oil our country has. It would be incredible for Del Marina to seal a deal like this, to lock something down. And Feliz, I know you want what's best for the country." Once again, hisbfather cold demeanor returns, shifting from joviality frighteningly fast. "So, I tell you to pursue it."

"I don't even know if she feels that way about me, a-and I couldn't ask her to stay in some foreign country!" Feliz is spouting every excuse he can think of, to push you away, push his fathers implications away, to keep you safe from the truth. The dangers of Del Marina, of his father government and more importantly, his father. Another withering look makes him nod. "I'll... ask her out. See if she'll accompany me to the press gala." He mumbles obediently.

"Good boy. Go, get some rest." He pats his sons shoulder. "And remember, Feliz,-" He chides, turning away and taking another sip, back to the future of Del Marina. "Ballesteros's take what they want."

Lying in bed, the grandness of his room feels imposing. As cold and lonely as ever, his own oil portrait staring back at him. He never liked the commissioned piece. It felt... fake. An image of his, posed by a map, in his uniform, looking like his father. Just. Like. His. Father. The sound of a creaking door makes him sit-up, and he only feels the discomfort in his stomach grow as he sees your form slipping into his room, clad only in pajamas that cling to you. Despite the terror he feels, the pulse of arousal in his gut is prominent too. He grabs his silk pillow, covering up a growing problem as he sees you approach.

"You can't be here, w-what are you doing?" He asks.

You just shake your head and laugh. "Please, it's fine. Your dad made it clear he likes me, and I wanted to check on you." You plop down unceremoniously, groaning at the feeling of the luxurious sheets on your body. "Shit, that's good."

"Go, you have to go-"

"Are you mad at me?" You ask, pouting as you turn to face him. Hes cute when he's nervous, brows furrowed and dark hair tousled. His hands grip the sheets. "Cmon. I'm sorry if I upset you, I just wanted to have fun!"

"I know, I know." he shakes his head. "I'm not mad at you, I was excited. It's just that you don't know my papa like I do. He always has a plan, a motive, for anything he does. And i don't want you getting caught up in something you shouldn't."

You frown, but ignore his warning. "Nah, he likes me, it's fine. I'm not scared of some politician, no different than my dad-"

"No." Hes dead serious, seeing the soft, sweet man so serious makes you pale, gulping. "You have no idea what he's like. What our country is really like, I-" He puts a fist over his mouth, rubbing at his face. "Please. Just try to keep your head down. Okay?" Nodding, and cold at the severity of his sudden change, you scoot closer.

"Okay, okay." You put your hands up in mock defense. "I'm sorry, I'll keep in line. I just wanted to check on you." I pat his arm. "Didn't want you mad at me."

He relaxes at the feeling of your slumped, warm weight against him. "No, I couldn't be mad at you, amiga. You're one of the... few friends I have, even in the short time I've known you. I just don't want you hurt."

"I like you too, Feliz." You murmur, and the simple admission is enough to make his heart palpitate. He grips the sheets, before slowly putting a hand on you. "Go, you should get back to your room. I'll see you tomorrow."

Watching as you pad across the floor, he coughs. "And... there's a gala, coming up. A media event for father and yours to be shown getting along. If you... if you wanted to go. With me."

"Who else would I go with, Feliz?" You tease, making him just look down, nodding.

So how did it end up as this? You're stuck up in the room given to you at the Presidente's estate, it had once felt so grand but now felt suffocatingly small. A deal had been struck, something went wrong when you had been seen at the gala. Media went wild, rumors flew about the pretty new girl spotted alongside Dela Marina's darling prince. And Ramon approached your father with an offer. You don't know what it was, or why he'd agree to it, but it culminated in your father jetting off; leaving you behind.

"Please, please- I don't understand-" You whine, hands shaking and skin slicked with nervous sweat as you see guards sealing up the doors of your room. Trapped. "Presidente Ramon-"

"Shh." His gloved hand pressing a finger to your lips silences you, eyes wide. It is now you are beginning to see the side of the Dela Marina presidente you had heard of. Calculated, cruel. "There's no need to panic, little American darling. It's not like your losing any luxuries you had back home, perhaps you are even gaining some. Both me and your father think this is best, a joining of powers. Now, he was hesitant." Ramon rolls his eyes. "But you are a fierce little thing, and I told him you'd get a bit more discipline here. I doubt he was strict enough in your upbringing. Not that a spark isn't amusing, señora. It's charming at times." His smirk is that of a lion looking over it pray.

"You see," he intertwines his fingers together as he sits down at the foot of the four poster bed beside you. "My son. He loves you. He'll say it's a crush, but a father knows his son. He's always been good, my boy. Never asked for things, never taken what he wanted like he should. This is a push in the right direction for him. To make him make a move. I expect you like him as much?"

"I mean, I don't, I don't know-" You're stammering, hands shaking. It's all crashing down, overwhelming. The feeling of absolution in his town, of finality, is bone chilling. "He's my friend?"

"Ah, well, that's only his own fault. He has trouble taking initiative, and I dont fault you either." He sits up straighter. "Im a traditionalist, like my father and his before him. Of course it should be the man who propositions the young lady, but my son-" he waves his hand. "Has this idea in his head, silly notions about the changing of culture. I am fine with most of it, but a wife and children? Being the man for your family, for your country. No, that I will never budge on."

"Papa!" The heavy door slams open, with a frantic Feliz standing in the now open doorway. "What are you doing, why is she here-"

"Ah, my boy. Come, sit. Me and your friends father had been talking, she'll be staying for a bit. Good news, ay? Now, I'm sure you've got something you'd like to say-"

"Y-you can't do this, she doesn't belong here, papa-" Feliz juts his hands forward to help you, to try and think of a way out of this. "Are you okay? Did your father leave-"

"Feliz!" Ramon's voice booms across the room, causing both of you to still like deers caught in headlights. "Calm yourself, I'm helping you along in making a decision you are unable to make yourself. You will be grateful, and apologize."

It's shocking to see how Feliz shrinks, to see how his dad treats him behind closed doors. "I- I'm sorry, Papa. I just didn't want her in distress. I didn't want her feeling confused." He mutters, head down like an obedient hound.

"Of course, and that's admirable, but you should put more trust in your father to know I’ve already explained the situation. Now come here, come." He waves his son over, and the pair stand near you on the bed. "Tell her. Of your feelings, take charge."

"I-" Theyoung man is trying not to hyperventilate, hands gripping his white uniform short like he's staving off a seizure. "I like you, you know this. I feel emotions for you that no one else had made me feel, and-and if you'd have me-" he sounds like he's ready from a script, eyes clenched shut.

"Not if. Be assertive." His father hisses. "Tell her she is to be yours. Tell her your feelings are strong enough you won't be denied. Tell her what you can provide given your status." He's glaring like a schoolteacher scolding a naughty pupil, and the shaking boy nods.

"When- when you decide I am right for you, I'll provide what you need. Our country has vast resources, and wealth for you to enjoy. You would want for nothing." Its monotone, like an audio book, like it's pre-recorded. Seeing his fathers fist clench, he moves to kiss you lightly. As he approaches, he whispers a soft "I'm so sorry-" as he places warm, slightly chapped lips onto yours. Shocked, but to afraid to not play along, you kiss back. It's soft, it would be intoxicating if the sense of impending doom didn't weigh so heavy, being moved like dolls in a dollhouse.

"That was nice, Feliz." You can think only to reassure him, hand landlord on his neatly pressed shirt. "Very nice, I like you too, of course." You tuck his hair behind his ear, seeing the way his lip wobbles, his eyes water. He's so guilty, he never should have spoken to you.

"Wonderful." His body is jolted by a slap to the back, his father laughing. "Good man, now, shall I leave you kids alone? I'm sure you'll want time to yourself. Son, you understand what a man must take from his woman, yes?"

"I... our relationship is new, papa. I can't. I-I-" He pauses. "I won't, I won't do it. I can't, I wouldn't know how and I dont want her to do anything she doesn't want."

Ramon scoffs. "She's agreed to be yours son, go on! Of course she wants it, don't you, pequeña?" Ramon gestures to where you're laid, looking at you expectantly. When you say nothing, he raises his brows in suprise. "Unbelievable. I set the two of you up for every opportunity and you can't do that. Son," he grabs Feliz's shoulder roughly. "We are men. Conquerors, rulers. We take what we want, lions from lambs. How can you expect to lead, to protect this great country from terroristas if you cannot ask your woman for what all hot-blooded men desire!" He's growing angry, truly mad, his usual cool annoyance heating up. "You have to learn if you don't take what you want, someone else will. Your land, your power, your woman."

"Papa, please-"

"No. I have to do everything my self with you. I'm going to show you what happens if you don't take the first step." He changes his eyes to you, your cowering form. "Strip, girl." You're eyes widen, head shaking on instincts.

"What, no, no, I'm not going to-"

"The choice is not yours. I've got guards outside, you're in my country. In my home." He comes to the bedside, leaning down so he's practically nose to nose with you, dark brown eyes feel like a pool you're drowning in, swallowed whole. "The only thing you are in control of now is how gentle I am, sí?" You're still frozen, just shaking your head over and over again, resulting in him sighing. It's a minor annoyance to him, like he's not violating you but rather just dealing with a disobedient pup. "Everything by myself." He repeats.

Gloved hands brush across your collarbone, cool leather causing a trail of goosebumps to blossom on your skin. He jerks his hand back, tearing the buttons on your dress. The front pops open, buttons clattering to the floor with a 'tink-tink'. Feliz winces, hand to his mouth in horror.

"Papa, please, please don't..." He begs, voice as soft and light as he can make it. He was a good father when he was little. Doting, he'd comfort him when he cried, take him on little outings. A part of Feliz hopes that softer voice would remind him of the boy he once was, that he'd give in.

"This is what happens son, you don't take initiative, someone gets there before you." Ramon feels you squirm a bit and tightens the grip he's got on your left arm, gaze never leaving his son as he warns you. "Don't squirm, girl." He warns. "You're a lady, not some groveling worm, hold still, I'll get to you in a moment."

"Can I talk her through it?" Feliz asks. "Let me be by her side, or at least... I don't know!" He begs. Ramon tilts his head, then nods. "Alright. Second best option is getting in where you can. Rising through the ranks, get over here." Feliz scrambles to get to your other side. "Now, let's get this off." Ramon grabs the blade he keeps on his waistband at his side, pressing the cold still to your pretty skin while he cuts the lace straps of your bra off. "Aw, beautiful. Shame to hide such beautiful breasts away, without a man to reveal them." He coos. Rough lips place a kiss to your left nipple, making you whimper. "Just beautiful. Feliz, take it in. Your first woman."

Feliz is staring, both horrified at his biological reaction and awe struck at the sight of your newly revealed breasts. He'd stared many a time when they were covered, to see them exposed in front of him was a new feelings entirely. He reaches out, letting a breath he didn't know he was holding escape as he gropes your left tit.

"There we go, it's good, yeah? A woman's body is a miraculous thing." Groaning, he leans down and kisses up and down softly the nape of your neck. "Don't stay quiet, let me hear those pretty noises, girl." He whispers

"I don't, this can't happen, presidente. I don't want this." You whisper, and he just chuckles, looking up at you from his place on your chest. "Ah, amor, but you will."

A sudden pressure on your ass makes you squeak, his hands groping the meat of your ass firmly, sure to leave bruises. "Don't speak back to me, ey? Lay back and enjoy what a man in power can offer you, girl. And call me Ramone." He grins. "There's no need for formalities when I'm going to have you speared on my cock."

Feliz grimaces at the way your eyes water, so afraid. But not only can he not help, he's so horrendously turned on. Your heaving breasts, wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You're a picture of eroticism, and the hardening in his shorts is a clear sign that the part of him desiring you is winning him over. He watches his father roll you over, gloved fist kneading the cheeks of your ass.

"Just a short reminder to not talk back. To behave."

A sharp pain makes you yelps, a harsh slap to your ass. Immediately after delivering the blow, his gloved hand massages to red mark. "See? Even when in the throws of sex, you should exercise your control, my boy. Let her know you are in charge, regardless of their pleasure she is providing you." He scoots aside, petting half while looking at Feliz. Feliz swallows harshly, but hovers his hand lightly over your plump rear. Another squeak, as he delivers a softer, albeit still harsh spank. "Make sure she's okay now. A firm hand, not a cruel one."

Feliz shaky hand gently rubs the mark, mimicking Ramon's actions, and he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Not too much, right? It wasn't too much? You-" He's trying to justify himself, why he feels so aroused by all this, by you. "You liked it, right?"

You're shocked, but as you shake your head no, another slap. The gentle kneading afterwards does little to relieve the pain. You know not to protest. "It's fine." You whisper.

Feliz wouldn't normally believe you, he'd hear the pain in your voice, the tremble. He'd want to sooth you, but he was so unbelievably needy in those moment, for for relief and to believe you were happy with him. That this was a good, intimate moment between the two of you, without his fathers direction, without force. Thid was the moment he trusted himself, his virginity to you. He just smiles weakly at your statement that it's okay.

"So pretty, let's get these off of you, huh?" You can feel the gloves leather, once cool, now hot against your skin he snaps your pantie strap against your hip, making you flinch. "Hm, I bet you've had plenty of men. A rich privileged American girl, spending your papas money. Does he know, know that your a slut, or is he too busy?"

"I've only been with a few guys..." you weakly protest. "From... club and stuff."

"A few too many. If any proper man had had you, he'd be sure you only ever took his cock, allowed him inside of you." Once again grabbing that knife, he slides the blade across the strap he had previously snapped, the fabric tearing and loosening. "Beautiful..." he runs his finger over the lips of your pussy, puffy from arousal. He lets you feel each wrinkle in the leather of his gloves, before spreading your lips apart, strings of slick snapping.

Feliz feels his mouth is watering, your mouth watering, your most bare part vulnerable for him. He can't stop himself from cupping your mound, letting his fingers curiously trail up to your clit. You let out a reluctant moan at the feeling; and he just leans down to kiss your cheek. "You're so pretty. A-and you're doing so well..." Making sure his father is distracted, he whispers in your ear. "Im sorry our first time together had to be like this, but... its still nice, right?" He's still in denial about the horrors of his actions. "You still get to feel good, and you get to be with me. This... this is what we both want..."

"Feliz..." You whimper, but he just shakes his head. "No, don't tell me it's not. I can't handle that right now." Despite his good nature, Feliz has always been given what he wanted. He cant help but feel selfish, ask you not to hurt his feelings or overwhelm him while your the one being violated. He'll reflect on that later. His lips, slightly chapped, press hot against yours, once, then twice. "That was my first." He admits. "Wouldn't want it to be anyone but you."

Suddenly, his father grabs his collar, pulling me back a bit. "Come now, boy. Clear out, I need my time now."

Feliz pales. "Papa?" He's visibly confused. "You said... take what I want, be a leader, not a follower. I thought you'd be giving her to me, that I'd be having sex with her! You said a man should let his woman be only with him from the moment he decides he wants her?" His tan hands are shaking, flushed face a mix of embarrassment and frustration. All he wants is to tenderly relieve the pressure in his shorts with you, and as he sees his father let out a 'tsk', his frustration increases.

"But that doesn't apply, does it? She's had other men before, and she's not a true, proper woman of our country. If nothing else, it's better I be sure she's even worth it. It's not simply sex, this could be the woman you choose to lead alongside, boy." His father cold glare makes him shrink back, sliding off the bed.

"But, isn't it a test of my leadership that I take her first-"

"You wouldn't question your papa?" Ramom hisses, and Feliz wilts. He can't make eye contact with you as he leaves the room. When it's him violating you, he can at least pretend you feel safer because it's him, that you like it. But its his father, a ruthless dictator, and stranger. As he leaves and makes his way down the hall, he's determined to be ready to cater for you when it's all over.

Back in the room, you remain a trembling mess, watching the much older man removing his belt with a practiced speed. "Please don't, sir-" You ask. "I don't feel comfortable, I don't-"

"You should feel grateful." He reminds. "To have both the attentions of a leader and his son. I understand it might be frightening, you know the kind of man I am. How i stay in power, I've tricked your father but I've no doubt that boy of mine has admitted some things to you." As he removes white dress pants and dispenses of his gloves on the nightstand, he grips your chin with now-bare fingers. Calloused; from years of clawing his way to the top. "You aren't stupid. That's one of the things I admire about you, girl. Smart, if a bit spoiled. That's fine, respect can be taught, a place can be taught. Natural intelligence can be harder to develop."

"Why me?" You blurt. "Why are you forcing me into this, you could have any woman, I'm not even close to your age, a-and Feliz, Feliz likes me!" You hope to garner even a bit of sympathy for his son in this moment, hoping it would prevent him going all the way.

"He does not 'like' you, he loves you." He says matter-of-factly. "Which is precisely why this has to be done. You will be in the public eye, the first lady of this great country. I need to know you can be submissive, can provide as a wife should. But... I also need to know you can be taught, can take orders. My boy, he is-" Ramon shakes his head. "Meeker than I would like, despite my efforts. I need to know even with his less than firm hand that he can ensure you behave. And ones true colors come out in the bedroom, I find."

He pounces, baring down rather suddenly, grip on your jaw near crushing as his free hand strokes once, then twice over his cock; brown with a curve to it and a purple tip. "But, I am also not a liar. I admit the idea of having a beautiful young woman around my manhood isn't-" he nips are your ear, breath hot yet making you feel frigid with fear. "Intoxicating."

"It's been a long time." You whisper, and he feigns a caring pout. "Ah, I'm sure. Don't worry, I won't let you hurt. But remember, this is about taking orders. First, take me in your hands. I doubt you're inexperienced in this, so don't feign naivety." His voice is low, threatening. Despite the churning feeling of sickness, you take his length in one shaky hand, wrapping round the erect shaft, and refusing to meet his gaze.

"Good. Go on now, kiss it, just the tip. I want to see you practice restraint, just because you don't want this doesn't mean I will rush." He warns. Your plush lips gently press the bulbous tip, you can feel a shiver run up him as you do. Testing the waters and desperate to get it over with, you slowly slip in the tip, tongue pressing against the vein under his cock. He doesn't thrust, not allowing you to take hin in fully; but the clenching in his jaw shows the effect it's having.

"Wonderful..." He groans. "Very good, take a little more, yes? I know you can, shit-" He rolls his hips, the salty flavor of skin filling your mouth further as you take him in deeper. "Good, suckle. Suck the cock of El presidente-" He's beginning to get a bit lost in his praise of himself more than you.

Sloppy, wet sounds fill your ears, eyes screwed shut as a few tears slip from them. Ramon grunts, whispering another moan of pleasure before noticing and sighing. He wipes some tears with his thumb, licking up the salty water to your shock. "Don't cry, cariño. I'm not being cruel. I'm being rather gentle with your pretty mouth; no damaged goods here." He reminds. You can hear his grunts increasing in frequency, his cock twitching in your mouth, when he roughly threads his fingers in your hair and yanks you off his cock.

"Hands and knees, face away." He demands. "Don't make me wait." Your knees dig into the silk of the bed, assuming an easily mountable position. Once again, you make a final plea. "Please-" Your voice sounds as though it could shatter. "Don't hurt me."

To your suprise, you can feel him freezing behind you, and hear a deep sigh. You scre your eyes tight as you feel him assume position behind you, leaky cock pressing against your folds as his chest, still clad in his white dress shirt, presses against your bare spine. One hand holds himself up, while the other takes your chin from behind, gentler than his initially grip. He places a few small kisses mixed with nibbles against the flushed shell of your ear.

"Being a leader-" he begins, "Is not easy. Being the wife of one, even more so. There is danger, societal expectations, and constant decisions that must be made. But know this, my touch is not something you need to fear, cariño." He's uncharacteristically tender now, and that frightens you more.

He finishes his speech with a kiss to the back of your neck, before sighing as he eases his tip into your wet folds.

"Ah-" You whine, it's thick, but it doesn't fully hurt. He's tender, he kept his promise. "Feel that? The stretch of a true Dela Marinan man?" He asks, working his way in a bit deeper. His balls, heavy, slowly crawl closer to the lips of your cunt as he further enters, groaning.

"Beautiful. Mmph, you don't have the makings of a first lady." He firstly pulls out, before sheathing fully again. "You're practically sucking me in, girl. You were made to take a Dela Marinan man, god-" His pace increases, gripping your hips as the thrusts.

"Are you close?" He asks. "Can you feel that coil of pleasure within you? Go on, release. Cum when the man controlling you demands."

Letting out a final mewl mixed with a sob, you can feel yourself beginning to spasm, walls twitching as a gush of fluids coats his cock. In a display of impressive control, though not surprising for the cold blooded president, he removes his angry cock without finishing. Quickly tucking himself away, back into his boxers, he towels the sweat from his brows as he appraises your fucked-out form. "You have the makings of a good wife. There is more to teach certainly, but there will be time for that. Though-" He tilts his head as if in deep contemplation, before leaning down to press a rather full kiss to your sweat-soaked form. It's passionate, surprisingly so, and he had held back from something that intimate so far. "As much as I love that boy of mine, I wonder if he is man enough to deserve a woman like you." He whispers, before pulling away and rather curtly leaving.

You can hear what sounds like voices in the hall, and soon two female attendants come to wipe you up. You're took sore to protest, and as they scurry out, the hurried footsteps of Feliz replace the noise they made. A look of worry fades slowly when he sees you, looking tired but mostly unharmed. He's got a glass of water in hand, a piece of chocolate, and other random medicine cabinet items. It's clear he was unsure what a woman would need for aftercare, and just took everything.

"I'm here, it's okay now." You can't even bring yourself to tale comfort in the words of your friend. You wanted him to have saved you, yet the most emotion he showed during the ordeal was learning he couldn't have you first. You just lay silent, still. He lays down beside you, fully clothed, curling into your side like a child seeking their mother's comfort. He pulls the sheets over you, kissing your forehead before closing his eyes.

"It'll be better next time." He promises. "It'll be me." That hardly soothes the pain.

[madamechrissy]

Baby You're No Good

Pairings - Cult leader/clan Leader Geto x F! reader

Summary - You have been promised to marry the psychotic, human hating leader of the Geto Clan, Suguru. Your heart sinks at the wedding when you realize you're likely to be ended once you've fulfilled your duty, giving him an heir. He detests you on sight, as do you, but something happens the first time you lay together, Suguru swears you're some witch, because he can't get enough of you. He becomes consumed with fucking you, with the excuse of 'having an heir' but you begin to wonder just where the lines are blurring. Would you survive this- and will Suguru survive being with you?

CW- Arranged marriage trope, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, psychotic Geto lol- lots of hate sex, Suguru calling you a stupid monkey, angsty, FULL of smut. Reader is a virgin bc she's sheltered due to been promised to him. Reader is FEISTY asf and mean right back. Explicit sex and Geto being whipped/insane/obsessed and psycho. This part- Heavy angst, SO MUCH angst actually, mentions of pregnancy, potential health issues, emotional sex/lovemaking- oral (m and f recieiving) violence, and more angst. WC this part- 6.6k

The next two parts will be the alternate endings <3 Plz share/comment/ like if you enjoy( is that the right word though)

<<<Part Three - Playlist - Masterlist - Part five/six (soon)

Part four

One more day.

One more day before Suguru leaves.

You’ve avoided him the entirety of the week, so terrified of him - not to mention he’s got you locked up for most of it, a barrier around the manor so you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to. When he allows you around with the girls, you start to feel this overwhelming sadness, not just for everyone to be killed, hurt, destroyed… but he also has two girls that look up to him like he’s hung the moon in the sky.

All they do is gush about him constantly, Suguru this and Suguru that, their eyes all lit up as they do, does he even think of the possibility he won’t return? The plan is for the girls, you, and a select few people for your protection stay, while he leaves tomorrow to potentially never come back again, or just as bad, accomplish his fucking goals. Then how could you look at him again?

You know what he’s already done - but this is to the point there is no return. Suguru has refused to even speak to you hardly, until he summons a doctor today, and now instead of perhaps going to a doctor’s office, you’re in a small little room, the little heart rate machine intimidating. Suguru stands off against the wall, granting you space, while the doctor frowns in concern while doing your vitals.

“Your blood pressure is too high, and your heart rate is through the roof. Are you under any stress?” You damn near laugh, looking at Suguru then, who can’t even stand to meet your gaze.

“You could say that.” You answer quietly.

“At these vitals, you can’t healthily have a baby.” Your heart pounds even faster, when Suguru’s hand comes to your shoulder, finally tilting your chin up to look at him.

“Try to calm your breathing.” He murmurs, you can’t though, how can you.

“Take a deep breath.” The doctor orders, you shut your eyes and try to do just that, trying to regulate some, as the cuff squeezes again, and you hear the doctor sigh. “Still far, far too high… alright, let’s see if there is a heartbeat.”

You lay down nervously on your back, when the doctor lifts up the shirt that you’re wearing, brushing cold metal against your skin.

“How long do you think?”

“Maybe five weeks.” He nods now, dipping the wand lower, and then you hear it, loud and clear, a little heartbeat. “Oh my…”

“There it is, it’s a little quick hmm.” He’s measuring the beats now, as Suguru feels everything around him shift.

Your eyes fill with tears, hand fluttering to your tummy, taking several breaths to calm yourself as you look at him for a moment. You’re terrified, he can see it in your gaze, not what he wants you to feel, to be, he has images of him and you together, holding your baby in your arms, but what if he couldn’t? What if he…

He bites back his emotions, clearing his throat now. “You’re pregnant.”

“Yes.” Your tone is flat, while your mind runs a million miles a minute, your own images vastly different from Suguru’s.

All you can see or feel is destruction looming.

When the two of you quietly walk back through the halls, you pause at the door to your room, eyes looking up at your husband. “Locking me in all night, right?”

“As if you want to see me. You haven’t even spoken to me until today.” You bite a trembling lip, looking down now. “You’re having my baby.”

“Will they even know you?” Suguru cups your face now, lips in a tense line, aching to touch you, fuck to hold you, but he knows you’re disgusted by him right now.

“You really think I’m weak, should I show you how powerful I am?” You scoff, shaking your head at him.

“It’s just like you, to flaunt your power, isn’t it?” He raises a dark brow at you, when you smack his hand off. “You won’t choose me or the baby, so don’t expect me to make this easier for you.”

“You will see, it’s better for everyone. Everything.” He’s cupping your face with both hands now, stepping you into your room, what’s been your prison for the week, until he’s leaning down, lips a breath away. “You don’t see my vision.”

“I see insanity.” You shove him off, his heavy breath breaking you, pulling you back against him, making you weak. “I see someone who’s so far into his own bullshit, that he doesn’t see what anything is.”

“Fuck you, you’re still such a mean little bitch.” He angrily kisses you, earning your teeth biting his lower lip, tearing the skin as you do.

“Fuck you, psycho.” He laughs darkly, blood dripping across his lower lip, swiping at it with his thumb.

“Your heart rate is probably high, huh?”

“It always is. It comes with having a batshit crazy husband who wants to fucking kill everyone. Our parents even!? The baby’s family!”

“Shh, stop.” He’s got you by the shoulders, but you’re too far gone.

“How can I be happy, how can I be a mom like this? When all I can do is see the death that you bring.”

“You won’t trust me. I’ll keep you safe.” He’s kissing you again, for a moment you let go, lips you miss, a body you crave, his energy filling you and making you drink every bit of him up, blood smearing and tasting like copper on your tongues. “Fuck…”

“No, we won’t.” You gasp and pull back.

How can you love a fucking monster.

“You’ll dine with me tonight, wife, do you understand?” You roll your eyes at him, looking away now. “Answer me, brat.”

“Fine. I’ll be there, Lord Geto.” He sighs, for once the two of you had something… close to not hate, but here you were, again.

“Wear the yukata I send up.” You roll your eyes.

“What choice do I have?”

Suguru has never really given you one.

******

You sit across the insanely long banquet table that night later on, donned in the elegant robes he’s bought you, hair done up with butterfly pins, a stain of red on your lips. You drive him to insanity with your beauty, the earrings dangling and reflecting lights that spread across your skin, while the soft chandelier lighting just illuminates your beautiful body.

You are quiet as can be, sipping on your water, while Suguru has red wine in his golden goblet. “So, husband, what did you need me here for?’

Your audacious ask makes Suguru tense, gripping the step of his goblet so tightly he could crush it. “Ever think I… enjoy your presence?”

“Hah … no.” You earn his scowl - good - better his scowl than you to feel more for him, for a ticking time bomb of a man you should hate.

Your heart races in your chest as he stands then, striding with those long legs across the room, yanking you up then by your wrist. “Stop pretending.”

“You stop pretending, as if you could care.” Suguru glares deeper now, hands dancing across your body, watching your nipples press against your robes, his thumb brushes one, earning your traitorous whimper.

“Your body reveals all your lies.” You smack at him, expecting a smack right back, but instead he just lifts you up on the banquet table, standing between your thighs, slipping up the robe bit by bit to reveal the lacy stockings you’re wearing. “God, look at you.”

“Pathetic, right? A mo-”

“So fucking perfect.”

“No!” You’re shaking when he kisses you, inhaling and exhaling faster and faster as the desperation tears you both apart. “No. Stop making me… feel this.”

“Feel what, hatred?” He nips your lower lip with his teeth, you wish you did, fuck you wish you did.

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

“Fuck you.” He’s picking you up, as a groom would a bride, it’s too intimate, it’s just too much, truly, you wriggle but he keeps you close against him, fingers pressing into your flesh, burning you.

Suguru burns you.

“Where are we going, tossing me in my room?”

“You’re spending this night in my chambers.” You gasp, and in moments you’re being carried past the curious eyes of many, staring at the sorcerer who hates humans so much, delicately holding you this way.

“I refuse. What’s the purpose, who knows if I can keep an heir with this as my life, anyway.” Your words stab him as much as they stab your own heart, when he settles you down, locking his door with a resounding click, the incense burning still on his black side table filling your lungs, as you back away, he’s just walking forward.

“Do not say that.” His broken voice makes you choke up, his perfect features for once soft, vulnerable, his hand touching your tummy. “I heard the heartbeat.”

“Racing.” He looks at your achingly beautiful face, destroying him bit by bit.

He lets out a shaky breath, cupping your face gently, something Suguru Geto just did not do. He was looking down at you, his eyes dark with pupils dilated, glimmering with something you would almost think were tears, but there was no way, was there? No way that Suguru Geto could truly feel, not this cult leader who has lost his mind, who you’re clinging to just glimpses of currently.

His breath ghosts across your sore, bitten lips, thumb swiping away a tear that falls without you truly knowing, brushing the salty tear across the apple of your cheek, his other hand drifting down your back. It’s too intimate, it’s too sweet of a way to touch you, causing you to break apart piece by piece, hands that had clutched to fists on his robes releasing their grip, your head tilting down.

“Don’t do this, Suguru.” Your words strike him like a stab to the chest, your teary eyes looking back up at him, hair falling softly to the side, brushing against his arm softly, while he pulls you closer.

“There’s a good chance Satoru will kill me.” His words are flat, matter of fact, as if you’re having a conversation about tea, not murder. Your heart thuds in your chest as he speaks. “I may not come back.”

“You’re choosing this, instead of me. Instead of us.” Your hand goes to your tummy this time, vivid images of it growing in his mind, of seeing your glow, seeing a smile, and not the pain that he brings instead.

If he wasn’t so selfish, he’d let you escape.

“I’ll make sure you and the baby are taken care of, if I don’t return. I have things set in place-”

“No, no! You think they won’t kill me without the connection of being your wife?” You’re pulling away, but Suguru is dragging you back against his chest, sighing, brows drawing together while the girl he loves looks so hopeless.

“I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

“Just choose me. Choose us. Stop this madness, it’s not who you are-”

“You do not know me.” His dark tone takes over, earning you shoving at his chest, turning away, only for him to drag you back against him, pressing your back against his hard frame, an arm coming around to wrap you tighter.

“You won’t let me, you won’t let anyone. I miss my family, I miss my friends, yet you keep me trapped here, and now you won’t even choose me?”

“I would choose you, over anyone. You’re… beautiful-”

“No. Do not.” You’re wriggling in his hold, as his big palm presses against your tummy now, and you’re sniffling tears of fury, chest heaving when he turns your face towards him, hand gripping your face even tighter.

“You are. Allow me this night with you, even if it’s just me drinking all of you up.” Your sobs make you shaky, when he grips you right between your thighs, pressing up against your heat, eliciting a whine he shouldn’t deserve.

“Allow what, you to fuck me before you go on a murder rampage!?”

“No. Allow me to do what I should have with you.” He turns you now, picking you up like it’s nothing despite your struggling, gently lowering you on the bed, watching you avidly as his fingers trail down the silk brocade of your robes. “Allow me to worship you for tonight.”

“Worship a human? Before you end us all?” Your hesitation waivers with every moment that Suguru lays on you, every gentle brush of his rough fingertips on your skin, while violet eyes grow deeper, more vulnerable. For a moment you see it, you see him, the dream that you believe in so foolishly.

“I will never end you. You are my only exception.” His whisper breaks you into pieces, his hand unknotting the ties of your obi, letting that purple silk fall against the bed with a whisper, baring a breast as he presses the material apart.

“Exception?” Your little breathy voice ignites too much in him, his lips hovering over yours, while his thumb brushes a sensitive peak, heat pooling in your tummy so unwillingly, fingers itching to entangle in his silken raven locks.

“You’re the exception.” He repeats, hand gripping a breast now, squishing in his huge hands, eliciting the cry from your pretty lips, as he instead wishes to say more.

That he’s fallen.

But how can he ever truly love someone?

If he did- he’d let you go, not take such liberties he knows he does not truly deserve from you. “It’s your choice, if you want to share this last night with me.”

“Oh I get a choice in something now?” Your words hurt, but they’re true, as your own hand slips to your robe, parting it fully and revealing your gorgeous body to his fiery gaze, making Suguru falter. “One last time then.”

“One last time.” Suguru growls softly, then his lips slam on yours, sucking up all of your oxygen, taking over everything you are and everything you have been, in that moment, you decide to just forget, to lose yourself in him. “Let me show you everything I should have.”

“Suguru…” He’s shushing you, kissing down your throat too sweetly, lapping at your collarbone with a light flick, as his hands explore more of your body, the robe strewn under you like a blanket, as he works his journey to your breasts. “Just… just fuck me okay…”

“No. Not tonight.” Your back arches when he sucks a breast into his hot mouth, tongue flicking your nipple, the peak tightening against his taste buds. Your hands do give in, entangling in his locks, as you feel your resolve weakening. “Beautiful. Perfect.”

“Don’t… you’ll just hurt me more.” Your emotions catch in your throat, when he leans up, cupping your face.

“It’s the truth, I will speak about it tonight.” Your lips are taken over again, less gentle and more fiercely, while Suguru’s hand trails down your waist, your hip, his heavy weight pressing on you. “You feel perfect.”

“Shh.” Your lips try to hush him, your hands slipping down to grab his cock, stroking it, but he grips your hand, kissing down your body, between your breasts and lower, breath making your hips buck when he’s right over the hood of your clit.

“Should be worshipped.” His murmurs, sending shock waves through your body when he hungrily kisses your thighs, higher and higher, fingers pressing into the plush of them, gripping and squeezing, leaving marks you wish would just stay forever. “Wanted to kiss every inch of you.”

“No…” He chuckles without humor, teeth gently nipping your thigh now, looking up at you under dark, long lashes, cheeks flushed from the pressure rising.

“Yes. I always have.” You shake your head once more, while he’s kissing up your other thigh, so hungry, so ready, and you feel yourself let go, for once with him fully, if this is the last time you have this hungry, damaged, beautiful man, you’re going to have him.

He’s swiping his tongue up your slit, and instead of tensing, closing your thighs as you did, telling him to just stop, you do what you’ve longed to, pulling his face against your cunt and grinding your hips up. He moans, realizing you’re letting go, you’re pulling his hair so hard at the root, letting out wanton, loud moans you’d usually cover up.

Suguru loses himself drinking every bit of you up, eyeing your perfect body under his lashes as he fucks his tongue inside your snug walls, moaning against you as he watches you unleash. Ways he could never see you, always holding back, and he supposes he held back too, why wouldn’t you? But you’re screaming his name out when he glides two fingers in your soppy little hole, flicking his tongue on your clit now.

“That’s it, fuck my face Princess.” Princess, you could swear you dreamed Suguru said that once, you blink in confusion at him, pausing, while the squelching sound of your greedy cunt around his sure fingers fills his room.

“Princess?” He sighs, realizing it’s slipped out, but for once he does not hide it, behind some cruel jab at you. He may never touch you again, if he survives this or not, and he can’t spare a moment.

“Princess, please.” Suguru saying please!? You’re gulping down words you ache to say ‘Suguru I love you’ ‘pick me please’ ‘more, more, more’ and simply nod, doing just that, grinding your eager, soppy cunt all over your sorcerer’s perfect features.

Fuck.

You both think it in your heads, that you can’t get enough of his mouth, his tongue fucking into you as his nose bumps your little twitchy clit, the obscene sounds of him drinking the arousal that starts to pour all over. His fingers replace his tongue inside you, his tongue flicking your clit faster, when his hand presses firmly on your tummy. You’re screaming out while your hips roll, dragging him even closer.

“There, there, f-fuck!” Everything is shattering around you while he flicks you over and over again, working you and pushing you to the edge, watching you topple over with those eyes of his, devouring your body every bit as much as his tongue lapped at your glistening folds.

He pulls his fingers out after feeling your walls flutter around them sucking them and moaning. “I can’t get enough of you.”

“Don’t…” Suguru slips back up your body, heavy weight pressing down on you, while you untie his robe eagerly, kissing yourself off him. “Fuck it.”

“Fuck… what-” You cut him off, flipping the two of your positions, shocking him for a moment, while you untie that knot fully, revealing a chiseled body you’ve longed to worship and never let yourself. His lips part while he brushes your hair back, and you’re kissing down his chest, while he murmurs your name.

“If this is the last time, then I’ll do what I want.” Suguru’s strong muscles tense when you kiss lower, and his hands entangle in your locks, shaky breaths releasing as you’re lapping at the line of hair above his pretty cock, which you reveal with a gentle tug.

“You want to suck me, Princess?” He asks, in shock, the few times you have, he’d shoved his cock in your mouth, forcefully and brutally, and you’ve never kissed down his body, how could you- why would you?

You’re holding his thickness in your hand, earning a soft cry from his glossy lips, stroking the bead of precum into a little circle along his slit, earning his body tensing under you, cock throbbing in your hands. “I couldn’t let you know. Arrogant bastard that you are - your cock it’s… pretty.”

Suguru chuckles and your teeth hit his tip just a bit in anger, only causing him to thrust his tip further in your hot, wet mouth. “Fuck, there you go… take it all, it’s yours.”

You’re sucking him down, eagerly and full of every bit of energy you’ve kept under wraps for these past weeks, watching his eyes dilate further, damn near black, his blush across his perfect cheekbones. Suguru isn’t talking shit, there’s no hate sex, it’s whispers of ‘perfect’ ‘feels so good’ ‘there’ as he lets you move, hips still, watching you in awe.

“Taking me so good, fuck look at you.” He doesn’t encourage you, he mocks you, but for tonight he allows every liberty, he lets all those whimpers he tries to hide go. “Fucking so pretty like this.”

You whine as his words hit, your cunt dripping so badly you have to rub your slit while he pumps up into your mouth, until he drags you off his cock, your lips pulling off with a loud pop, and he kisses his taste right off you. He’s got you under him once more, cock hot and heavy and burning against your inner thigh, kissing you over and over.

“Never felt anything like you.” You almost tear up again at his husky declaration.

Why, Suguru, why?

Why can’t you just stop this.

Why can’t you choose me?

“That’s not-”

“God it’s true.” He’s got his huge hand on his cock, guiding it into your soaking wet entrance, your nails clinging to his skin as you scream out, back arching for more. “Never, ever felt anything like you. I never want to.”

“Suguru…” He’s sliding his cock in and out of your slick walls, a hand gripping yours, as he shoves in so deep, and all you can do is fall apart for him.

“I haven’t wanted anyone but you since that first night.” You shake your head, but he’s staring right into your eyes, glimmering with his own emotions. “My exception.”

“Shh.” You’re kissing him back with hunger, while his cock moves inside you, knowing every spot, tip grazing just the spot now, forcing you higher, until it feels like there’s nothing but Suguru anymore.

His hair falls soft against your skin while he bites your neck, and your nails leave marks on his skin that’s coated with a sheen of sweat, while he pumps harder, but achingly slow, letting you feel every inch. So many inches he stuffs you with, balls slapping your ass that’s got the juices from you flowing against it, slap slap slapping and echoing in this room, his moan vibrating your ear.

“Wanna fill you every moment, want so much cum inside you it never stops. You can’t get rid of it.”

“Ngh…”

“Everyone will know you belong to me.” You’re whining as he bites your neck harder, pulling back with saliva glossing his lips, cupping your face now. “Say it.”

“No - ngh!” He slams his cock so deep, until he’s bottomed out, your tight walls stretching to accommodate, gushing down his length.

“Once.” He pleads, thumb brushing your swollen lips, cock sliding in even harder.

“You can’t ask for it.”

“I can. I am. I need to hear it.” You’re shaking your head even as he’s devouring you, fucking every thought out of your head, every warning there should be, it’s all faded until it’s just him. “You’re mine.”

“No.” He’s exhaling, lips passionate while he deepens the kiss, moaning into your mouth while your thighs clench on his hips, and he presses inside even deeper.

“Mine for tonight.” His pleading ends you, you’re cupping his face now, taking a shaky inhale before you speak it, the madness.

“Yours for tonight.” Suguru slams his lips back down, fucking into you so deep you can’t remember where he ends, where you begin, can’t breathe, feeling the drops of his tears, of a man you thought couldn’t feel, splattering along your cheeks.

“Come with me, now, Princess.” The way he murmurs that damn name is too much, you let him surround you, as he lifts a thigh. “With me, now.”

“Suguru I- ah!” You’re cumming when he starts pumping his hot cum so deep inside your now sore little hole, spurts rushing across all your walls, while you’re crying from how hard you’ve peaked, how much you feel, and see his watery eyes in your swimming vision.

“There it is, feel her gripping me. Wants it all, hmm?” You’d usually shake your head, but you’re nodding, sniffling while your tears mix together on both of your mouths, his hand gripping your waist bruisingly. “Imagine when you’re round with me.”

“Don’t say it.” He sighs now, as he eases out of you, watching the mess of both of your fluids gushing down his royal purple blankets, making him feral at the sight, fingers brushing over your stomach, making you shiver, sensitive to everything. “You can’t think it.”

“But you are having my baby.” Suguru kisses your tummy far too fondly, as you sob further, as he makes you feel more.

“I’ll hate you forever if you go. Forever, Suguru Geto.” He sighs, resting his forehead against your tummy now, while your fingers caress his shoulders, watching the goosebumps rise all over his skin.

“I know, Princess.” He eases off you now, eyeing the slutty mess he’s made of you, swollen lips, bruises on your skin, red marks all over, the indentations of his teeth.

He loves you.

“Stay in bed with me then. Don’t go.” He looks away as you sit up, your hair falling back now, revealing more of your bitten shoulders. “Stay.”

“You don’t understand how long I’ve worked for this. You don’t know about the world like you think.”

“You’ll punish them all for a few?”

“It’s not that it’s…” Your hand touches his chest, feeling a usually steady heart beat erratically against your palm.

“We could have this. We could give ourselves to this. Together, go away, so far away Suguru that no one will find us.”

“I can’t-”

“Bring the girls. I’ll raise them with you, far away from the hate that’s poisoning you, there’s something there, I can feel it.” Suguru stands now, strong muscled back just enhanced by the glow from the moonlight filtering in, hair falling against his back, between those shoulders that bare too much.

“Let me clean you up.” He goes to his bathroom, coming back and cleaning you far too gently, eyes not quite meeting yours. “Will you lay with me tonight?”

“Suguru…”

“Shh, just… for once, let me hold you for the night.” His emotions alone fill his throat, making his voice husky, you’re sniffling even as he swipes your tears. “I know you hate me, and you should hate me. But please, this one night, let me just hold you.”

“Fuck you for this.” He exhales, then moans softly when you kiss him, the taste of your salty tears against his lips. “Please, one night where I feel you against me, where you’re in my arms. You’ve only allowed one night… during your nightmare.”

“Nightmare of you.” You hold nothing back, you never do, a sharp tongue and words that pierce through his very soul. “Why?”

“I want you in my goddamn arms. You… I mean it, the exception.”

“But not enough to choose me.”

Suguru sighs now, pulling you closer, a hand slipping across your lower back, burning your skin. “Lay with me once. Tonight. Let me hold you in my arms.”

“Oh fuck you.” He’d laugh if he didn’t hear the fucking pain in your voice, feel your brutal kiss returning his own, hands entwining, bodies moving against each other. “You don’t even deserve to hold me.”

“I know I don’t.” He brushes your hair back behind your ear, eyes drinking in your pretty face, as if for the last time. “But please let me.”

“You’re asking something, and saying please?” he just gulps, you take a shaky breath then, turning on your side, hand slipping under the cool silk of the pillow. “Then hold me, if you wish, before you leave.”

Suguru pulls you against himself, and you hate how good he feels, his hard body still so warm from your exertions, his rough palm pressing against your tummy, unspoken words so loud between the two of you. You’re in love with a selfish, cruel man, but what is even worse is how much more you know there is.

You see why Satoru still loves him, after every atrocity he has committed.

You love him too.

“I hate you for making me feel this.” Your hushed words pierce him so deeply, when he pulls you closer, burying his head against the crook of your neck.

“I don’t hate you.”

“Lies.”

“I don’t. Far from it.”

“Just… shut up.” He’d smile surely, your attitude is like no other, even screaming his name you still never let up on him.

What would it be like when he came back?

Would you forgive him?

“You are one of the most important people to me-”

“No. Stop now before you destroy me further.” You go to move, and he yanks you back against him, this time facing him, and he sees the streaks running down your cheeks. “I’m not enough.”

“You are-”

“I’m not enough to stop you. We are not enough.” He holds you against him, even as you cry, until in exhaustion you fall asleep, sticky tears he swipes off gently, looking at your precious face, exhausted, drawn, lacking its usual color.

At this heartrate she can’t carry a baby.

The doctor’s words ring in his ears, when he slips the blanket over you, holding you tightly while you gently snore just a bit. “I love you.”

 You don’t hear him, and that’s for the best.

He aches to stay right here, when he has to awaken at four in the morning, the sun has not yet risen, when he has to leave the girl snug in his embrace, knowing he may never see her again. Suguru kisses your forehead, something he didn’t allow himself, last night the two of you had finally let go, the way you’d said ‘yours’ plays in his head, over and over, like a melodic symphony of his longing.

“Forgive me, Princess.”

*****

Waking up you reach for him, but Suguru is no longer there, just a bunch of rumpled sheets, the scent of him lingering, but long cold to the touch. You sit up in a room you’ve never slept in, Suguru Geto’s chambers, you’ve been fucked on every square inch of them, but never have you stayed the night. Your heart pounds in your chest so loudly you feel the dizziness of the blood pumping too fast.

No.

No, no, no.

“He can’t… he can’t…” You’re whispering frantically, gathering the crumpled robes, the ones he’d laid under you, even they have his scent just lingering on their silken material, while your shaky hands tie it on quickly.

You rush to the door, bare feet padding against the marble, you see Sashimi with his tongue lolling out, with Mimiko and Nanako, who are casually giggling and sipping on boba tea, as if everything is just fine. They come to you then, while you’re clutching the robes to your chest, the curse licking at your hand, while they tilt their heads at you.

“What’s wrong?” Mimiko asks.

“You look upset.” Nanako says.

“I am… worried about Suguru.”

“He’s so strong, don’t be!” Mimiko says with a grin.

“He is, he’ll win, promise.” Nanako and her hug you, trying to cheer you up, not realizing the depths of his mania, of his insanity.

“Are we alone?” You ask softly.

“No, dad wouldn’t leave us unprotected. Please don’t worry, he’s the strongest that there is!” You give them a soft smile, though you’re breaking apart inside piece by piece.

“I need to… get changed.” They watch curiously when you stride past them, now in a full panic, hastily getting dressed before finding the phone you’ve hidden under your mattress, dialing his number.

“Hey there sweets.” Satoru’s casual voice over the phone startles you.

“Tell me he’s…”

“Nope, he’s here all right, they’re all here.” Your cry over the phone speaker hurts Satoru even as he’s watching his best friend and everyone there marching slowly. “It’s not your fault that you couldn’t stop him.”

“Can you… take me there?” Satoru blinks, while his friend marches, dragons flying overhead, curses everywhere, sprawling across the streets, where his students and comrades stand ready, gathering together.

“As much as I disagree with Suguru on many things, humans are fragile… you’re not suited for a battleground.”

“Satoru please, maybe if he sees me-”

“That’s too dangerous.” He cuts you off, as your cries grow more desperate, and Satoru sees a student struggling, he curses. “I have to go.”

“Just trust me-” He hangs up, as you’re in a panic, completely unaware of what is even happening, rushing to the front doors, seeing the dome surrounding you glimmering when you try to touch it, jolting you back.

You fall to the soft clipped grass now, hands gripping the blades until you rip them from the roots, hopeless, terror sinking in.

What could you even do?

Could you forgive him?

You didn’t even say it… that you love him.

Would it have mattered if you had?

*****

Suguru smirks hours later, as tired sorcerers battle his own, his curses, he’s got them attacking people now, watching as they fall, but it doesn’t bring all of the satisfaction that he thought it would. He’s got you in his fucking head, his heart, ingrained like his own curse rushing through his veins, images of your tear streaked face, sounds of that little fetal heart beat echoing in his mind.

He didn’t even get to tell you.

Would it have mattered?

As his curses are destroyed more and more, Satoru’s clearly brought in several powerful sorcerers to help, some faces he recognizes from long ago. He sees Nanami, so different now, who gives him a disgusted scowl as he annihilates one of Suguru’s followers, swiping the blood off the white and black spotted blade.

“You’ve gotten strong, Kento.” Suguru says, when Nanami’s serious face scowls, and he pushes up his green goggles.

“Don’t dare call me that, anymore. My friend is long gone.” That shouldn’t hurt, Suguru would laugh at it, but the words sink in. “Now I’ll have my turn at you, killing children.”

“If the students would leave I wouldn’t harm them.” Suguru puts up a stance, hand bursting with Energy, as Satoru watches and remembers your plea then, while he crushes someone’s neck in his hands.

He needs to get you.

It’s the only option to end it.

Satoru’s gone in a flash, and you scream out when he’s right in front of you, jolting you up out of your bed, he lifts his white bandages with a finger, eyes swirling as they take you in, a blush on his face when he sees your disheveled state. “I scared you…”

“What’s he doing!?” You stand now, hands on Satoru’s chest, he realizes then that he’s not even putting up his infinity, as you look up at him desperately. “Is he…”

“It’s a shitshow to say the least, sweetheart. I have no time, I need to bring you, but I can’t guarantee the safety, I will try my best though.”

“No, no. Get me there. I have to try.” Satoru wraps an arm around your waist carefully, pulling you against his lithe body.

“Sorry you should hang on, and… prepare for this. Okay?” You nod then, feeling oddly comforted in his embrace, while he drops his mask back down, and you cling to his black silky jacket.

“I’m ready.”

He was not kidding when he said it, how sick and dizzy you’d feel teleporting with the white haired sorcerer, seeing the disaster all around you, endless curses you couldn’t believe, sorcerers in uniforms exhausted. Humans screaming in the distance, things are on fucking fire, figuratively and literally, buildings and walls destroyed. You gulp down the rolling nausea, while Satoru balances you.

“Easy.” He murmurs, you take an inhale through your nose, when Suguru catches your eyes, mid fight with a blond sorcerer, faltering as the man gets a slash against him, rivulets of blood rushing across the new slash in his robes.

“Suguru…” Your words hit his ears even as the sounds of destruction surround him, infuriated as Satoru holds you, stomping forward while you step out of his embrace, swaying just a bit.

“This is too far, Satoru. Leave her the fuck out of it.” Satoru’s laughter infuriates him, when he steadies you, murmuring in your ear.

“Give yourself a second.” You nod, stepping more steadily, as Suguru’s blood splattered face falls, softening when you stand toe to toe with him, the wind blowing your robes around your ankles, whipping around hair as he bends down, cupping your face.

“Get out of here. Now. It’s not safe.”

“The world isn’t safe, look what you’re doing!” You gesture wildly, making him observe just what you mean, injured sorcerers, death everywhere, his own curses disintegrating, former friends, former classmates, former teachers. All looking at him with the same sadness, though nothing compares to yours, when his eyes return to your face. “It’s not too late.”

“It’s too late, far too late. What did I tell you that night?” You shake your head, gulping with your dry throat, taking his hand and placing it on your tummy.

“We can run away. We can stop before more are hurt.”

“I can’t just-”

“You can. This isn’t you!”

“It is me!” His scream and grip on your wrists cause you to step back in fear, he realizes it, he sees it, the reflection in your glittering eyes- you’re terrified.

“I’ll never forgive this. Don’t do it, please just… let me be enough.” Suguru looks to the battle, then back to you, a million scenarios swirling in his head, when suddenly a blast hits you, and he watches the love of his life knocked to the ground.

“No… no… no!” He’s scowling, as the sorcerer who was one of his continuous blasting errant blows, he hadn’t even meant to hit you, but your body was…

Human.

You’re human.

Suguru kneels to the ground, eyeing your unconscious form, shaking you, smacking at your face, when he feels Satoru kneeling, checking your pulse. “This is your fault, Satoru, how could you bring her-”

“This is all you.” His words are cold and sharp, while his fingers feel the faintest of a pulse. “She’s human, Suguru.”

“And you brought her-”

“She’s human.” Satoru repeats once more, softer voice now, looking at him behind that blindfold. “I can get her to Shoko. But this needs to end.”

Suguru picks your limp body up in his arms, cradling you against his chest, your arm dangles limply, head falling to the side.

Suguru has a decision to make.

Let you go with Satoru to Shoko, and end this, disappear forever from your life, so that you could find a sliver of happiness he could never give you.

Or carry you to her himself, and try his best to redeem himself in your eyes.

“Stop.” He orders everyone loudly, voice resonating in echoes across the ripples of everyone, his curses stop first, then his fighters, while he pulls you tightly against him, the place you have always belonged, yet he never deserved to have. When he eyes what he’s done, the monster he became in your terrified eyes, he knows it then, he should have stayed in that bed, he should have listened.

He should have chosen you.

What does he do?

So I know this one is BRUTAL- but I will be doing dual endings, for five and six, one endgame Sugu/ reader, and one bittersweet and angsty. NO ONE will die so please don't worry either way, but be cautious of the warnings so you know what you're getting into! I know this one is very emotional, I'm crying with you :')

taglist#1- @ur-1fav-girl @gradmacoco @arabellasolstice @saitamaswifey @rjreins @uarmyhopeworldwide @makkiihehe @dabisdolly @angelzrulez21-blog @juicu @meme848 @arcanedx @satxoru @jeon-blue @longlivegojo @silvarys @enhasrii @inthedarkshadows000 @shokosmokes @schlokki @ashdiamashi @socutesotall @staarflowerr @you-need-namjesus @pkcoleight @tasteofapplecider @erenspersonalwh0re @makingtimemine @boobsbeesbongos @sjstg3 @msniks @hhhhhhhikariiiiiiii @l1v1ngzomb1e @lilbxtchsyndrome @voideddd @maddyhehehehhe @nanamiskentos @yenayaps @alygator77 @slamonwords @nonamevenus @sugurumylove @shibataimu @spicy-woodland-queen @nonamebbsblog @notyuralycat @beabamboo @satttanx @curlyhairkk

[tbaluver]

Hello! Love your writing for the LADS men!! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟFor a request, I'm wondering how do you think they'd take our ring size when he's decided to propose? Thank you! ♡

How They Get Your Ring Size- The Love And DeepSpace Men

featuring ( in order ): xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb genre: fluff fluff a/n: hihi anonnie! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ this is such a cute request i hope i did it justice ! ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) oh to be married to them is such a dream .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·. i hope you this was alright and that you enjoy reading! (∩˃o˂∩)♡⋆˚✿˖° any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡���˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier would unfortunately end up asking Tara for help. As much as he wants to handle this alone, he knows he can’t risk the ring not fitting when the big moment comes. Xavier's determined to make that day perfect and memorable for you if it means getting the size right and talking to your friend. While he knows Tara is a close friend of yours, he doesn’t quite understand why she’s so excited, like she’s the one who’s about to propose.

He keeps the conversation brief. The plan is simple, Tara takes you out window shopping, guiding you toward the rings and trying to figure out your size without you suspecting anything. Once she sends the info to Xavier, he won’t have to hear from her again, at least he hopes.

Zayne:

As Zayne gets ready for work, he quietly approaches your jewelry box. He knows how much you cherish the promise ring he gave you, given how much you wear it, and though Zayne remembers your size, he figures it wouldn’t hurt to be sure. Carefully, he slips your promise ring along with his mother’s engagement ring he planned to give you into his pocket.

A small smile curls on his lips when his phone buzzes with your message, asking if he knows where your ring went with a string of multiple apologies. He smiles, knowing how often you wear and treasure it. He can’t help but picture how perfect it would look with his mother’s engagement ring.

Rafayel:

Beads of sweat trickle down his forehead as you softly snore beside him. He carefully reaches for your hand, his fingers trembling as he attempts to slip a thin string around your ring finger. However, each time he nearly finds the size, you shift or make a sound, making his heart race. He freezes in his spot, convinced you’ll wake up and catch him in the act, ruining everything. He curses Thomas internally for giving him this idea.

In the end, he decides to take matters into his own hands. He’s crafted many things for you, including the jewelry he gifted you. He crafts several rings in different sizes, so when you’re fast asleep, he’ll quietly slip one on your ring finger, testing to see which fits just right.

Sylus:

Getting your ring size wasn’t a challenge for him. He didn’t even have to break a sweat. After all, he’s given you plenty of rings over the years to know exactly what size you wear. All he needed to do was take one of them to the jeweler, double-check the size, and make sure the wedding ring design matched what you’ve been dreaming of.

Finding the right design was almost easy. Sylus always pays attention to the styles you like and preferences but wants to make sure. Luckily, he has a little crow who watches over your shoulder and keeps him updated with all the details. Sylus can pick out the perfect ring with that info, making everything just right when the proposal day comes.

Caleb:

Caleb would use nostalgia as a benefit for this scenario. “Hey, pipsqueak….doesn’t this ring look like the one we used to play house with when we were kids?” He gives a soft chuckle, holding the ring out to you. Little did you know that he purposely designed it to resemble the childhood ring just so he could estimate your size, all while keeping his cover under wraps.

His heart beats loudly, and he hopes you don’t hear how loud the thumps are in his chest. “Let’s see if it still fits.” He tilts his head with a soft smile as he gently takes your hand and slips the ring onto your finger. “Well, how does it feel, Miss Pipsqueak? Too tight orr too loose?” He asks with a playful smile, hoping it will mask his nervousness while mentally taking notes for the jeweler later.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank you to my beta reader @ilovemitsuya (˵˘ ³˘˵) ᯓᡣ𐭩 MWAH

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

[egophiliac]

I loved your drawing(and I love your style in general) with Leia in your recent post! If/when you have time can we see more of her in your style? I get so happy whenever I actually see people mention/talk about her and she’s not just forgotten because we didn’t get to see much of her. 😭

thank you! 💙💙💙 Leia/Leah/Lea/whatever is fascinating to me. she is the ultimate unknown. what was she like? how involved (or even aware of any details of the invasion) was she? Silver's basically a physical carbon copy of his biodad, so what did he get from her? like, I understand why the two of them kind of have to stay as these super vague and mysterious figures -- the whole point of them is that their story ended 400+ years ago and they're not really relevant anymore (and. well. the more that gets explained about them, the less that can just kinda be handwaved as "oh the politics were Very Messy") (we can sit here and theorize all day but let us acknowledge that, ultimately, canon gave us almost nothing about them post-Meleanor and we'd just be making things up). I do still wonder about her though! RIP Lea, we never knew you and we probably never will.

actually you know what, as long as we're here, I think I WILL go ahead and just make some stuff up about what Silver might've inherited from her instead.

[imnotshua]

show me how - kmg

٠࣪⭑ pairing: kim mingyu x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: you meet mingyu in a bar and then you fuck. that's it, that's the tweet. ٠࣪⭑ genre: generic au, strangers 2 lovers, smut ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with me, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: swearing, drinking, one night stand. ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: gendered terms, mingyu has an enormous cock (canon), kisses, v fingering, oral (f receiving), v sex, mingyu 🔛🔝, wet patches <3. teasing but it's good natured. if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 2k - complete ٠࣪⭑ a/n: i needed a break from angsty wonwoo and this just sort of happened, my bad, lads and ladettes. please note this is unbeta'd and unedited because it's 1am and i'm tired now thank u vm, any mistakes are my own but do lmk if u see any so i can fix ٠࣪⭑ thank you all for visiting my little corner of the internet. i hope u like this one<3

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Jeonghan always does this. He insists it’s his job as department lead to take the new recruits out for drinks, as a sort of ice breaker. Terrible idea, you always say, to feed newbies (far too much) alcohol on their first Friday, and expect them to feel totally comfortable in his presence come Monday. That’s why you’re always there too, because you can rein Jeonghan in (sometimes) and it’s not your department to actually worry about. 

Tonight is like any other. Jeonghan is playing matchmaker for some unsuspecting interns and Seungcheol is trying not to make moon eyes at him. Ridiculous, if anyone asks you, which no one does. You’re perfectly content sitting at the bar nursing your drink and texting Seungcheol to let him know what a down bad loser he is, until someone too enormous to ignore takes the seat next to you. And you’re annoyed, even though it is the only spare seat in this place, because his giant arm knocks yours as he calls down a bartender, sending your drink splashing over the counter. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says, grabbing for tissues and mopping up the mess. “Let me get you another.”

“Oh. No, I’m good actually.”

“That was a full glass of wine.” Here we go.

“Yes it was.” 

Seungcheol is texting you already. 

Cheolie: who is THAT guy Cheolie: you should fuck him immediately oh my god Cheolie: he’d swing you round like a bat

Why on earth would I want to be swung around like a bat?

“C’mon, let me make it up to you,” says Tall Stranger. Even sitting down he’s a head above you. He’s probably terrible for your mental health. ”I’d feel guilty all night if I can’t replace it.” 

“I don’t take drinks from random men.”

Cheolie: idk dude but he could do it Cheolie: he’s your type!!!!!!!! Cheolie: when did you last get laid even “Technically you’d be taking it from the staff. I’d just pay for it.”

He’s not even hot. He’s just tall

Cheolie: bitch i can see his cheekbones from here Cheolie: 11/10 easy

Finally turning looking at him properly, you have to give Seungcheol credit where credit is due. All smooth skin, big eyes, and perfectly full lips. You could cut your finger on that cupid's bow. 

“I guess you’ve got me there,” you say.

“I’m Mingyu.” He smiles wide. Oh nooo, he’s hot. 

I’m not fucking a stranger from a bar! Go tell Jeonghan you wanna suck his dick and leave me alone

Cheolie: :))))))))))))

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“My apartment was definitely closer,” Mingyu says between wet kisses pressed to your jaw. 

You push him off to pull your shirt over your head and he gapes at your chest. Pervert. “Well, we’re here in case you turn out to be a killer,” you say. Mingyu crowds your space again so fast, slipping impatient hands down your body, warming your skin with them. Snaking one between your legs and finding the material of your underwear a little damp. “At least then my roommates could find my body.” 

“Not a killer–” he says against your neck. “But I am about to murder this pu–”

“Oh my God, never say that again.” 

“Noted.”

The best thing about one night stands with guys might actually be that you can say and do pretty much anything, and there’s little to no embarrassment. You can tell Mingyu here that it’s his job to make you come before he does, and all he does is nod, dumb and horny, and a lot into it. 

He moves back on your bed, pillows shoved out of the way and spine pressed against the headboard, and looks at you with something like trepidation. If trepidation could be sexy or whatever. You climb into his lap and take your time unbuttoning his shirt. Mingyu watches your hands as you brush against his skin and asks if he can kiss you.

“Since you asked so nicely,” you say, offering up your neck. 

Unfortunately, he’s ever so good. Just smiles sheepishly (very hot) and tugs your chin down to catch your bottom lip between his. It’s better than you expect. Attractive men don’t kiss this well, usually, because they never had to work for it. Unfair, really. “Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against your lips, deft fingers tugging your underwear to the side.

Everywhere goes tight as he rubs circles over your clit. Mingyu holds up your skirt with his other hand, leans back to watch, and the heat creeps over your neck. What was that you were thinking about little to no embarrassment? Disappears the moment you see his jaw slacken, cheeks flushing with want, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You feel so soft,” he says. “So fucking wet.” God, who made him? You drag an unsteady breath as a finger slips inside, curls it just enough to make you whimper. He strokes you gently, working you open, slipping another finger in just as soon as he thinks you can take it. You can’t. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. He leans in to drag his teeth across your shoulder.  “You just got so tight. Wanna feel that on my cock.”

“Do you always narrate?” Your words come thready. Embarrassing times ten. 

“Uh– yeah,” he laughs. “Should I stop?”

“No, no. It’s okay.” 

“Gonna make you come now, baby,” he says. “It’s gonna be fast, okay? Need to fuck you.”

“Cocky–” you start, but he’s laving a flat tongue over the lace of your bra, making your nipple pebble through the thin material. His fingers slide deeper, his wrist coated in you, and the way he uses the heel of his palm against your clit is leaving you breathless. He smiles with pleasure as your moan catches in your throat. Applies the pressure, just the right amount, to have you bucking against his hand. “Needy.” He says it like it’s praise.

“I’ll snap your fingers off inside me, Mingyu.”

“Do you always threaten people?” He teases your clit again and it’s blinding. He moans as you clench impossibly tight. 

“Yea– fuck. Shit. Gonna come.”

Mingyu's lips find yours in a second. Licks into your mouth, kisses you through it. Hums happily, so annoyingly pleased with himself, as you shudder your way through your orgasm, a wet patch forming on his jeans. 

The rest of your clothes come away just as quick, and Mingyu groans like a fucking loser. It’s both gross and horribly attractive. Doesn’t move his hands from your body as you make fast work of his belt, lifts his hips to help you pull his jeans down and free his hard length. 

“What the fuck is that?” 

Mingyu blinks. “What is what?”

“That can of fucking Pringles you’ve got between your legs?” 

“It’s not that big.”

You can’t quite believe it. “Oh my God, you are going to murder my pussy,” you cry. “This is cruel and unfair. They’re gonna put ‘Death by Monster Cock’ on my headstone.”

“This is unbecoming.”

“Your dick is unbecoming.”

Mingyu looks ready to cry. “Are you going to touch me yet? I think I’m going to explode.”

“Yes, yes, fine. But this had better be as hard as you get.”

Unfortunately when you take him in your hands, Mingyu does actually get harder (hahaha you’re going to die) and you try to decide how you’re actually going to take this. 

“God– fuck,” Mingyu murmurs as you work your hands over him. He all but melts against your headboard, and you wonder just how many people have survived him. Not like– the size of him (well, that too) but the way he looks right now, sweat beading on his forehead, the way his pretty pink lips fall apart, like sins are spilling out of them. You roll your fist over the head and he keens. Mingyu sounds so good, you could get used to this. He groans, loud, pushing into your circled fingers like he’s desperate. You like how his chest heaves, all tight breaths and strangled half-formed noises. 

“I need– need–” 

“What do you need, baby?”

“Wanna be inside you,” he breathes. Pulls you down onto the bed, rolls on top to press a kiss to your sternum, and nudges your legs apart to slot between them. His cock slips against your cunt, still wet from his fingers. Reaches over to fish a condom from the pocket of his jeans (how presumptuous!) and tears the packet with his teeth (hot). “This okay?” he says, as he rolls it on. 

“Yes. Yeah. Be gentle, okay?” Embarrassing times a million.

Mingyu’s eyes go soft. Ew. 

“I’m always gentle.”

He is. The stretch hurts but he’s slow with it. Gives you a second to adjust, to angle your hips just right, before he moans, tells you you’re beautiful, that you feel so fucking good around him. He braces himself above you, slides into you so agonisingly beautifully deep you think you can feel him in your stomach. A moan escapes you, “Feels good, Gyu,” you whisper, and Mingyu swears. 

“You’re so tight,” he gasps.

“Pretty sure a cave would feel tight for you,” you laugh. Mingyu’s cock jolts inside you. “You’ve got the Hubble Telescope for a dick.”

“Please stop saying weird things,” he begs, and slips out just to slide back in. Pushes the air right out of your lungs. You forget to blink. Mingyu takes your broken cry and your nails digging crescent moons into his arms for the praise it is, and fucks you like you need him. His hands hold your thighs, rubbing slow circles into the skin with his thumbs, pulling them up around him to give him better access to your centre. Lets you hold on to him just to anchor yourself, almost lost to the pressure of your building release. 

Mingyu is so good at kissing. He nudges your cheek with his nose, bites open mouthed and wet at your jaw, presses one–two kitten kisses at the seam of your lips before he’s licking into your mouth, all soft lips and sensuality and tongue. He whines into your mouth as he fucks you, gasps desperately when you clench. His fingers are splayed across your body, touching everywhere he can reach with his huge hands, cups your breasts and moves to pull a nipple between teeth and grins lazy when you whimper, when you arch into it. 

He’s starting to fall apart now. Stuttered breaths and hasty thrusts, chasing your heat and his own release. God you wished he’d come inside you. He looks so pretty when he’s desperate. Eyebrows raised and eyes wide and mouth open. “Gonna come?” you ask. He nods with fervour. “Make me come again first.”

Mingyu doesn’t waste time. Loves a challenge, it seems. He pulls out without warning, leaving you empty and pulsing around nothing, fists his hand around his cock and thumbs off the condom as he dives between your legs to eat you out like a man starved. It’s embarrassing how wet you are. How he has you coming apart faster than you expect, how the way he sucks on your clit has you seeing stars. “C’mon, baby, show me how you come,” he groans between licks. “M’not gonna last.” 

His free hand teases at your clit, slips further to gather up the wetness on his fingers just to take it and run it over his cock. Fuck that’s so hot. He watches your mouth fall open, he’s all doe-eyed and too sweet for the moment, and you think he really must kill people, but by accident probably. He hums as he licks into you again, your fingers find purchase in his hair, pulling him against you tight and desperate and needy, and then his tongue flicks over your clit fast fast fast and you’re gone. Coming fast and hard, and he’s moaning at the taste of you, at the wetness pooling between your legs and soaking through the mattress. Mingyu’s done for too, “baby, you look so good,” he’s cooing, sitting up on his calves and bucking into his own hand and spilling his cum over your body. Spreads the mess over the soft skin of your stomach and tells you you look so pretty. 

God. You’re ruined. Upon your headstone will read death by softboy (with monster cock.)

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging so my fic can get seen outside my own little space <3 i love seeing your feedback. if you'd prefer to scream at me directly, feel free to send me a message <3

[fireinmoonshot]

love that lasts | joaquín torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: When Thanos snapped his fingers and erased half of all life from the universe, he also took you from Joaquín. Five years later, he is still trying to learn how to live without you – until the Avengers can save the world. Warnings: Google Translate is my best friend – apologies if the Spanish is used incorrectly in this fic, I do not speak it but I tried my best to make sure I used words properly. Mentions of bad mental health, nightmares. It's very angsty at the start, has a bit of fluff, but mostly full of angst. Word Count: 4.2k A/N: I rewatched Infinity War and Endgame last week and came up with this idea. Since we know that Joaquín survived the snap, I decided I wanted to write something angsty about where you didn't survive and this was born. This was the most challenging fic for Joaquín I've written so far but also the most rewarding, I think. I know everyone's really moved on from the whole Infinity War/Endgame thing regarding fics, but I really wanted to write this so I hope people will enjoy it. The title of the fic comes from 'Still' by Noah Kahan – I had his album on repeat almost the entire time I was writing this.

Joaquin Torres always knew that the Avengers were going to save the world. From the moment that half of all life on Earth had disappeared, he knew that whatever had happened, the Avengers would somehow find a way to fix things. 

He just didn’t count on it being five years later.

There had been one good thing that had come out of him not being blipped, though – the fact that his mom hadn’t been either. If he’d had to live without her, he’s sure he would have gone insane. Because it was hard enough to live without you.

He’d spent days wishing that he’d been taken too. The first few days had been the worst. He’d been unable to leave the house, having to learn to grieve you when he wasn’t even sure if you were dead or just gone. 

He remembered every moment of that first day like it was yesterday. How he’d just arrived home from going to pick up some takeout for the two of you and he’d seen his neighbour turn to dust in his front yard while he’d been outside gardening, making the most of the evening light. He thought he must have just been seeing things.

He’d walked through the front door of your home and called out your name, heading into the kitchen to put the take out down before he went to find you, feeling more than confused. Then you’d appeared in the doorway to the kitchen and Joaquin had been flooded with relief.

“I’m home, angel, I have the takeout in the kitchen, come get yours” Joaquin called, starting to get the take out from the bags. “Hey, have you seen anything weird on TV today?”

“Joaquin…”

He’d looked up at you, then, just soon enough to see you say his name as you slowly started to turn to dust in front of his eyes. The blanket that had been wrapped around your shoulders fell to a pile on the floor as Joaquin stared at where you had been standing only seconds earlier. 

“Angel?” Joaquin’s voice was small, hesitant. He put the container down that he’d been holding and walked towards the doorway, half expecting you to be hiding behind the wall, ready to jump out and scare him. It’d been a trick of the light, something like that. But all that was left of you was the blanket on the floor and your phone which had fallen on top of it.

He’d fallen to the floor, grabbing the blanket in his hands and holding it to his chest for what felt like hours as the feeling of numbness overtook him. The blanket still smelled like you and he never wanted to let it go.

Whatever was happening, whatever had happened to your neighbour and to you… there was nothing Joaquin could do about it. He wasn’t an Avenger, he wasn’t anyone special. He knew in that moment that he was going to have to live with it. That fact alone could have killed him.

His knees went numb after kneeling on the floor for so long but he couldn’t find it in himself to pull himself up from the floor. Not even when the sun finally set and the house was blanketed in darkness. The food on the counter had long gone cold. It was only when your phone, sitting in his lap, buzzed, that he’d been pulled out of his stupor. His mother was trying to ring you. She’d thought Joaquin had been taken when she couldn’t get a hold of him, but the second he answered your phone, she knew that you were gone.

Joaquin had stayed with his mother for a while after that, not being able to bring himself to be in the house without you there. There were memories of you in that house everywhere he looked. The sheets still smelled of you, all of your things were still in the cupboards, every time he opened up Netflix, your profile was there. Everything was there except for you. 

“You could always sell the house and move back home with me properly, mijo,” his mother had said. “It’s not smart to be paying your mortgage on that house when no one is living in it.”

He shook his head. “I know it’s not smart, mamá, but I just can’t. We bought that house together. We were making a life there. I can’t even bring myself to move her things, how could I sell the place and clear everything out?” 

His mother reached across the table and placed her hand over Joaquin’s, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Then you’ll stay here until you’re ready to go home.”

“I don’t know if it will ever really be home without her, mamá,” Joaquin said honestly, meeting her eyes. His were full of tears, as they were most days since you’d gone.

There was no hesitation as his mother stood up from the table and walked around to him, wrapping her arms around him to pull him into a hug. She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “She was the love of your life. Just like your father was the love of mine. You don’t have to move on like she never existed, mijo. Time will continue to pass and she will continue to be with you, even when you cannot see her.”

Joaquin sniffed, holding his mother close as he cried. “I really love her, mamá,” he murmured, not really expecting her to hear him since his voice was so muffled.

She did, though. Gently rubbing his back, she closed her eyes and let out a long, shaky sigh. “I know you do. I loved her too, mijo. Just like she was my own,” she hummed. “Don’t lose hope. She will return to you one day, I believe that. Your soulmate will find you wherever you are, in any life.”

As the years went on, Joaquin started to believe that this was the way it was always going to be. The Avengers had not saved the world like he thought they would. And he was going to have to learn to live the rest of his life with only memories of you. Like his mother had said, time continued to pass, no matter how much he wished it wouldn’t.

The world changed. He changed. Things became darker and he became darker with them, though he desperately tried to keep the spark alive in his chest – if only because he knew that was what you’d want him to do. You would want him to still be the same Joaquin that you’d loved, but how could he be that person without you?

He threw himself into his job, working day and night to try and keep himself afloat. It seemed strange to be doing such mundane things in a world that was so different. To have to keep earning money to pay the mortgage of your house. To have to get out of bed every morning and shave. To have to make food for himself to eat during the day. To have to go to the grocery store to get milk for breakfasts and coffees.

Five years had passed slowly. Joaquin had made it through them relatively unscathed, with a few mental scars here and there. Every day he was grateful that he still had his mom. That she was there to comfort him when the days were hard and that he was still alive to be there for her as well. If she’d been alone through all of this, it would have broken Joaquin’s heart even more.

When he eventually moved back into your home, every time he cooked dinner it was like you were in the room with him. He could feel your hand on his back as he cooked, your arms around his waist as he washed the dishes. It was like you were still there with him, but then he’d blink and the memories were gone, washed down the sink with the water he drained.

He still cooked enough food for two people before realising it was only him. For a while, he could never bring himself to eat the second serving, until times got harder and he couldn’t afford to waste anything. 

He would be laying in bed at night and he could swear he could feel your arm draped across his side. He could feel the ghost of your kisses on his lips. Your side of the bed was empty every night and yet, he could never bring himself to wash the pillowcase you’d once slept on for fear of the way you smelt disappearing entirely, forcing him to lose another part of you. He couldn’t lose anymore of you.

His friends who had survived the blip had suggested that he put himself back out there. Go on a date, find someone new. There were plenty of stories of people who had gone to support groups after losing loved ones and had found new love there. The likelihood of everyone who had been blipped coming back was slim to none, so why not? But Joaquin could never bring himself to let you go. Even just thinking about going on a date with someone else filled him with guilt. People had tried to set him up on dates but he had never gone through with actually going on any of them. 

His mom was the only one who understood. Even if it meant that her baby would never be able to give her the grandchildren she’d wanted for so long, it didn’t matter to her. She had loved you like you were her own child. All she wanted was for Joaquin to be happy and for some miracle to bring you back to him so that he could be. But even she had lost hope after the past five years that anything could bring you back to him. 

And then… the Avengers saved the world.

~~~

That morning, Joaquin is sitting in a coffee shop – one that had been your favourite before you were gone. He’s missing you a little more than normal this morning and had decided that a good way to feel like he was with you would be to come out and spend time at a place you loved. He’s taking a sip of his coffee when someone suddenly appears in the chair opposite him.

Joaquin almost chokes on his drink, coughing a little as he looks at the man in front of him. He hadn’t walked in from anywhere, he hadn’t been in the coffee shop before. He’d just… appeared. What the hell was going on?

“What the…” the man says, looking around the coffee shop with a confused and haunted look in his eyes. “You’re not my wife… I was just sitting here with her… Where is Sylvia?”

Joaquin’s eyes widen. For a moment he wonders if the man is just confused, maybe there’s something wrong with him mentally and this is his way of asking Joaquin for help… but then, on the table in front of him, his phone lights up and starts to ring.

The contact photo is of you and the name on the screen is yours.

He drops his coffee, spilling a little on the table as he reaches for his phone. His hands are already starting to shake. A part of him thinks this must all be a cruel joke. Someone has broken into your house and stolen your phone, or there’s some kind of technological glitch. But another part of him, the part that is still hoping after all these years, truly believes that when he answers the phone, your voice will be the one he hears on the other end of the line. 

“Angel?” Joaquin’s voice is hopeful as he holds his phone up to his ear and presses the answer button. “Is that you?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the line and Joaquin’s stomach drops. But then he hears it. “Joaquin… where are you? What’s going on?” Your voice – your voice on the other end of the line. It’s real. By some miracle, you’re home. “You were just unpacking the takeout and then…”

“Angel, just stay there, okay? I’m coming home,” Joaquin says to you, grabbing his coat off the back of his chair as he stands up. “I’m so sorry, sir. You should call your wife,” he mutters to the man still sitting on the chair opposite him, looking confused.

He takes off at a run, almost running straight into a few people walking through the door of the cafe. He doesn’t hang up the phone the entire time he’s running home, just grateful that your favourite coffee shop is within walking distance of your house. He’s grateful that he wasn’t driving – he doubts he’d be able to focus on the road properly, knowing that you’re home and waiting for him.

Joaquin runs faster than he’s ever run in his entire life. His throat hurts from his heavy breathing and the air rushing in and there’s a stitch forming on his side. There’s sweat dripping down his forehead, owing to the sweater he’d put on this morning and the pace at which he’s running. But he’s not going to stop or slow down for even a second until he gets to you.

Once he reaches your street, he pushes himself to run even faster. He can see your house in the distance and he hopes he’s not dreaming as he runs towards it. He doesn’t think he can deal with the pain of walking inside the house and not seeing you inside again. 

He’s breathing heavily as he reaches the front door, fumbling in his pocket for the key. He doesn’t even notice his neighbour in the front yard, the one he’d seen disappear five years ago, standing right where he’d disappeared, holding his wife close.

Joaquin doesn’t manage to get the key in the front door before it’s pulled open, his hands shaking too much with adrenaline. His head snaps up and his eyes fall on you, your hand on the door handle and your cheeks tear-streaked as you look at him.

“Oh, dios mío,” Joaquin mutters, instantly stepping inside the door and wrapping his arms around you. He holds you tightly to his chest, worried that you’re going to disappear from his arms for good this time. “Are you real? Are you actually here? I’m dreaming. I must be dreaming. This can’t be real.”

Your hands fist the fabric of his sweater as he holds you close. Whatever happened, you don’t really know yet, but what you do know is that Joaquin is acting like he hasn’t seen you for years. The house looks the same, you’d noticed, as you’d walked around before Joaquin came home and you heard the sound of his keys at the door. But something is off.

“I’m real, Joaquin,” you murmur into his ear. “You’re not dreaming. But I don’t know what’s going on… where did you go? You were unpacking takeout and then you were gone.”

Joaquin pulls away from the hug but still keeps his arms firmly wrapped around your waist. He can’t bring himself to let go and he fears it’s going to be that way forever now. “Angel, it’s… it’s been five years since I last saw you. Thanos… he wiped out half of all life in the universe… you were– you were gone.” Tears start to fall down Joaquin’s cheeks and he doesn’t realise until your hand moves to gently swipe them away. He leans into your palm, finding comfort in the feeling of your warm hand on his cheek. “But the Avengers… whatever they did brought you back to me. It was them, I know it must’ve been.”

He internally curses himself for ever doubting them.

“Five years?” You frown, eyebrows knotting together as you try and piece things together in your mind. For you, it had just been like you’d blinked and things had changed but for Joaquin… it had been five years. Five years without you, and yet when you’d called… he had literally come running. “I was gone for five years?”

Joaquin nods, reaching one hand up to wipe the tears from your own face. He can’t imagine how terrifying it must have been for you to come back and not find him anywhere, for you to be alone in the house. He’s more grateful than ever now that he never tried to sell the house. If you’d come back and an entire new family had been living in your house…

“They were the hardest five years of my life, angel,” he says softly. “I thought that you were gone forever.”

You look at him for a moment, a little confused. “But you still live here… you still kept my number in your phone… you– Joaquin, you came running to me when I called… what have you been doing for the last five years?”

Joaquin’s heart cracks a little in his chest. “Angel, I’ve been waiting for you.” 

With that, he can’t bring himself to maintain his self control any longer. The hand that had wiped the tears off your cheeks gently holds the back of your neck as he presses his lips to yours. You reciprocate immediately. Five years of wanting, five years of waiting for something he was sure was never going to come… a kiss five years in the making. Joaquin is surprised he was able to hold off for so long. He’s never going to take advantage of kissing you ever again. 

~~~

A little later, you and Joaquin sit on the couch in the living room. Your hands are entwined, legs tangled under a blanket in front of you. It had taken a while to pull yourselves from the doorway. You were both in a little bit of shock – Joaquin in shock that you were finally back here after five years, you in shock that you had been gone that long.

“You really never dated anyone at all in the last five years?” You ask, resting your head on his shoulder as one of his fingers draws patterns on your palm that slightly tickles. 

Joaquin looks down at you and sighs. “Believe me, my friends tried to make me. They even set up a couple of dates for me to go on, but I never went on any of them. I just couldn’t bring myself to get out the front door.”

Frowning, you look up at him. “Why not?”

“Because none of them were you, angel.”

He gives your hand a squeeze and you snuggle closer into his side. You’d been insecure in your relationship at times – five years ago – but you knew you could never be insecure about it anymore. How many other people could say their partner had waited five years for them on a sliver of hope that they’d come back after disappearing from the universe? 

In his pocket, Joaquin’s phone starts to buzz. He pulls it out of his pocket and smiles as he sees his mothers contact on the screen. “I’ve got a phone call for you, mi amor.” He hands the phone to you and his heart warms as he sees your smile upon seeing who’s calling. “I think she almost missed you more than I missed you.”

You take the phone off of Joaquin and instantly hit answer, holding the phone up to your ear. “Suegrita,” is all you say and even though Joaquin isn’t holding the phone, he can already hear his mothers cries on the other side of the line. 

He motions for you to put the call on speaker. 

“Mamá, you told me not to lose hope,” he says, taking advantage of a moment of silence from the other end of the line while his mother isn’t sobbing. He’s already planning to go and see her as soon as possible – especially when she’s like this.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of his mothers sobs on the other end of the line, and then she speaks. “You bring her home to see me soon, mijo!” She exclaims to Joaquin. “Mi querida niña, you do not understand how happy I am that you are home with your love.” Her words are directed at you now.

There are already tears streaming down your cheeks at her words. “You must have taken really good care of him these past five years for me, suegrita,” you sniff. “Thank you for looking after him when I couldn’t.”

Joaquins arm wraps around your shoulders and squeezes tightly. 

“I knew you would come home to him one day, querida,” his mom says. “Soulmates will find each other in life no matter what comes between them. I told him that years ago.”

His mother only hangs up after Joaquin promises that he’ll bring you around to see her tomorrow. You know you’re going to need to prepare yourself for plenty of hugs and kisses from her, and even though for you it’s only been a matter of weeks since you’ve seen her, it’s been five years since she saw you. It’s going to take a while to get used to that fact. 

“Mamá took good care of me, angel,” Joaquin says, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. “I don’t know what I would have done without her here. I cried in her arms more than I can count over the past five years.” 

You frown, moving until you’re straddling Joaquin’s lap and you can hug him properly. You bury your head in his neck and one of your hands moves to rest in his hair. His arms wrap around your back. “You don’t have to cry anymore, baby.”

Joaquin chuckles a little. “I think I’m probably still going to do a lot of that. I can’t make any promises, angel,” he rubs your back. “A part of me still thinks I’m dreaming. That I’m going to wake up any second and you’re going to be gone.” 

You pull away just enough so you can look him in the eyes. “I’m real, Joaquin. I’m not going anywhere. Not unless there’s some other alien out there that’s going to get rid of half all life in the universe again.”

He scrunches up his nose. “Don’t joke about that. Too soon.” 

Smiling, you lean in and touch the tip of your nose against his gently. Joaquin takes advantage of the closeness of your face to lean up and capture your lips with his. He can feel you smiling into the kiss. Maybe if he does this enough, he can make his brain realise that this is real. That you’re here in his arms, your lips on his. That against all odds, you’re home.

~~~

He knows the nightmares aren’t going to go away any time soon. They’ve been plaguing him for years at this point. He’s lost count of the amount of times he’s woken up from a dream that you were alive, or a nightmare where he had you back only to lose you again. It’s why, when he wakes up later that night, his heart racing and sweat drenching his body, that it’s not a surprise to him.

What does surprise him is that he forgets you’re here now. It’s not until he hears your soft, sleep filled voice speak his name and feels the mattress move underneath him that he spins around from where he’d moved to sit on the edge of the bed to see you. 

“Baby, are you okay?” You ask quietly.

Joaquin takes you by surprise by pretty much launching himself at you. He places a hand on your cheek, another one on your thigh. You’re sitting up, legs crossed, staring at him full of worry. 

“Baby?” You try again.

“You’re real,” Joaquin mutters. “I’m not dreaming. It’s not a nightmare.” 

You reach up a hand to rest on the one on your cheek. “It’s not a nightmare. I’m real.”

Tears fill Joaquin’s eyes again. He’s still haunted by the nightmare, one where he’d lost you again, and his brain is just sleepy enough to make him think that this is all a dream, even after trying to convince himself that it isn’t. Even after hearing your words confirm that it isn’t. 

“Please don’t leave me,” he murmurs.

You shuffle closer to him until you’re face to face, until you can feel his unsteady breaths on your face and your noses are almost touching. “I’m not going anywhere, Joaquin.”

He brushes his lips against yours softly, barely even a kiss. “Don’t leave me.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut and kiss him properly in an attempt to wake him up a little. It’s almost like he’s still in the midst of the nightmare, that he can’t manage to pull himself out of it completely. The fact that he’s had to deal with all of this alone for the past five years makes your heart hurt. 

“I’m home now, baby,” you mutter against his lips after you pull away. “I’m not leaving you. I’m home.”

Joaquin’s arms move to pull you closer to him until you’re almost sitting in his lap. “You’re home,” he says softly. 

“I’m home,” you repeat.

He takes a moment to just breathe, then. Focusing on the feeling of your hands on him, the feeling of his hands on you, trying to ground himself. You’re home. You are really home. And for the first time in five years… Joaquin finally feels like he is home too. 

[burymagdalene]

Drip by Drip - S. Reid x Reader

In which the nine long days spent apart ends in a harmonious reunion of a needy shower spent together.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: plain smut. (18+ pls pls) I didn't even write 70k words of plot before like I usually do. tags: softdom!Spencer, shower sex, age gap (or could also not be...) pinv, a possessive vibe, fingering, handjob, making out, multiple things being very wet...playing with your tits, creampie, finger sucking, praise, & desperation! wc: 3.3k a/n: More of this. I had a lot of fun writing this even though I kind of felt really dirty to the point of religious guilt as a non-religious person so I hope you guys like it! <3

Your body finally relaxes after what feels like the longest day you’ve had all week once Spencer's shower stream washes over you.

Nine days. Nine brutally slow days of watching over Spencer’s apartment- or torturing yourself by being reminded of his belongings for over a week.

When he first left, you’d been naive. Spencer hasn’t been away for over a week since you’ve started dating. The first time he was gone for three days you felt like you were going to faint. You wish you still had those champagne problems as you’re washing yourself for the trillionth time alone in Spencer’s shower.

The past 24 hours have been especially hard. You were woken up at 5:00 am with Spencer calling you before he had to get ready in the hotel and go out to do whatever had taken up so  much of his time in Boise, Idaho. 

First, good news: He thinks there is a break in the case, and should be getting home later.

Second, great news: Spencer has conveniently woken up with a hard on that's throbbing helplessly against his stomach.

Which sounds like a heavenly wake-up call. But in the FBI he has to be adaptable to the quickest changes in plans.

Five minutes into purring into your side of the phone while touching yourself to Spencer’s groans, another charming individual begins to call Spencer as well. His boss.

So, tucking himself into the band of his underwear, Spencer leaves again. You could’ve finished yourself off, but self pity got the best of you as you drift off to sleep.

A painfully slow and hard day at work followed, rude people and small mishaps on your part that were blown out of proportion to make you feel worse. A crappy self made dinner that took longer to cook than to eat.

But in Spencer’s shower, you’re able to unwind, happy in knowing you can spend the end of a bad day in your lover's space. Regardless of if he’s here or not. Which is another problem, you haven’t heard from him since he was panting on the phone earlier– so it’s safe to say he probably will not be coming back today because of the rush in which he had to hang up earlier.

Over the water pattering against tiles, you do not hear the key jingle and door shut that signifies Spencer’s long-awaited return. Head down and eyes closed, most of your senses are just focused on trying to unwind.

Spencer, placing his bag down in the kitchen, can hear the shower going and immediately saunters over. Not having a plan, but just to show that he’s finally back. He can’t fathom being home right now without alerting you.

Slowly, as if not to scare you too badly, he probably will though, he slips in through the bathroom door, places his toiletry bag down on the sink.

You’re a bit unfocused, but not completely to the point of missing this. Out of your peripheral vision you see the slightest movement and your head whips to the side. Spencer. You could fucking melt.

Through the steam that has built up, you can make out his slouched figure and contrasting pleased smile. You can’t help yourself, with soft dripping skin you swing his shower door open to greet him.

“Spencer,” you whisper out in shock, trailing water onto his bathroom floor. “Oh my God.”

“Hi my baby-” He reaches out to swipe away some droplets on your face, but doesn’t finish. You’re pulling him into a tight, wet hug.

Arms slung fiercely around his neck, he barely buffers in returning your hug with his jacket-clad arms around your waist.

In the back of your mind you’re aware that the water on your breasts and stomach are soaking through his undershirt. That your clean hair is dropping water onto the shoulder of his jacket. You’re also aware how expensive a suit is. 

The harsh disparity from the cool air sticking to your wet skin from the hot (frankly, too hot) shower you were in previously is pebbling your nipples against his now soaked-through button up, your skin is covered in goosebumps that he’s swiping away with his thumb. 

A low hum into your ear as he’s trailing his thumb nail against the sensitive part of your inner waist, “Angel girl,” a deep sigh, “I missed you so much.”

Your arms tighten around him, forehead landing on his wet shoulder, you could cry. You could laugh maniacally. Either way, you feel cemented against his frame, the only warmth being produced near you since stepping out of the shower.

A small indent in your lower stomach is being formed from his belt digging into your pliable skin. You feel like a fresh heap of soft clay ready to be moved and constructed into anything Spencer’s hands can make of you. You feel utterly his.

You pull away slightly, uncomfortable from where his buckle was pressing against your belly. Pulling one hand away you trace it with a fingernail, Spencer and you both looking down at it between your bodies. Both noticing the drastically different attire. 

A chuckle slips from your lips without thinking, “you branded me, look.”

Spencer’s thumb stops rubbing circles into your side, a shiver rolls down your spine. Daring to look up at him, you’re met with his dark eyes resembling magic 8 balls. An underlying fortune there too: Outlook Good.

Warm hands are soon softly gripping your cheeks as you’re being pulled into a burning kiss. His lips against yours after all this time, you moan immediately. Dry and soft and pillowy he’s swallowing you and pulling you flush against him, buckle be damned.

Water from your hairline is rolling over your cheeks and soaking the cuffs of Spencer’s sleeves. You haven’t pulled away far enough, but you can bet that the white button up he’s wearing is see through.

You’re freezing, the air from the bathroom is torturous, your skin on high alert. It’s making you push yourself onto Spencer so hard he stumbles back. He grabs your ass to steady you both for a moment and you bite harshly onto his bottom lip.

“God, my girl,” Spencer shivers against you when he feels your cold hands seek warmth under his shirt, “My perfect girl, I can’t believe how much I missed you.” He places a kiss onto the top of your head.

Speaking into his shoulder, “I missed you too, I feel crazy. Such a bad day.”

Both of his hands slowly trail up your waist till they meet the side of your boobs, you pull your lips in to conceal a whiny moan.

“I’m sorry I left you hanging earlier, did you finish?”

“N-no, went back to bed.”

He groans against your head. Placing his hands firmly on your hips to push you away slightly, taking a long good look at your naked frame. You feel exposed, embarrassed, and hot. Looking back at him, his perfect suit, deliciously tainted by your wet body print, chest visible through the wetness.

One of his thumbs wanders from your hip, back to the small indent of his buckle, rubbing it back and forth. This time you can’t help but whine.

The tension is tangible and painful. Your hands feel stuck to your sides before you snap out of it, pulling him close by the tie before you try to remove it with slippery hands.

Tight and hard to undo because of the wet nature of his garments frustrates you as you try to untangle Spencer from his tie. Him being clothed feels utterly unbearable. Through half-lidded eyes and a lazy smile, he watches you struggle with the tie.

“Here- honey, let me.” Spencer's removal of the tie, his fingers taking it off rather steadily compared to your shaking ones. Though the excitement zipping through him equals yours.

You latch onto him again, completely devoted to his presence, there’s no way in hell you’re letting that much distance and that much time separate you again. Tugging one side of the collar of his jacket you slip it off of him, he grabs your wrist.

“I’m here, I’m here,” A wet kiss to your begging mouth, “Get warm in that shower, you’re trembling. I’ll be there in 30 seconds. Can you wait that long for me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Knew it. Good girl.”

With that, your stomach plummets and you spin on your heels back to the shower. It’s almost orgasmic in itself to find yourself under the hot water pressure again. 

The door is almost completely steamed up now, you can hardly make Spencer out through it. You can only see movement and more of his tanned skin being exposed through a murky lens.

You can’t help it, greedy fingers come down to rub a few circles onto your clit as he finishes undressing and approaches you. The weight and stress of the nine days going straight to your clit to be absolved.

The door swings open, mercy.

You don’t feel polite enough to stop the rubbing, Spencer doesn’t seem to mind, mumbling “Jesus.” under his breath before meeting you with a kiss under the shower head.

His tongue rolls slowly against yours, making your toes curl in on themselves where you stand. Fingers picking up against yourself you moan into his open mouth, he pulls his face back to watch you. 

A kiss against your throat makes you whimper and pull your head to the side for another one to be placed. 

With Spencer’s rock hard dick against his stomach in your line of vision you wince while removing your hand from yourself, your hips instinctively kicking up to chase where your hand is now grabbing the base of Spencer.

He hums low, a bead of precum leaking out to be washed away by the stream. You glide your hand quickly, a desperate attempt to hear more of his moans vibrate against your skin. 

“Slowly, baby-” He gasps as you circle his head.

You can’t let up, you barely feel in control of your body. Your head is spinning, you just can’t believe he’s with you.

Finally, a louder moan is cut from Spencer’s lungs as his hips slowly fuck against the fast pace of your fist. The tip of his dick barely ever encases in your hand as he does so, only able to feel the sensation of bottoming out when he’s inside you.

While you’re distracted, moaning brokenly into the suffocating air and pumping your hand against Spencer’s throbbing length, Spencer trails down to pet your clit again for you.

“Fuck, I missed you. I miss touching you like this, the way I can feel your heartbeat in it, baby-” He draws out the last word in disbelief. You felt the thrumming against your own fingertips earlier, so by now you’re sure it’s fluttering against his hand in an obscene way. 

His middle finger circles your entrance. Your heart is in your throat. 

“Please-” You sob out, being teased right now would end you forever.

“Mhm. I am.”

Taking his time feeling against your spongy walls where his thumb continues its circles against your bundle of nerves, your hand against his cock grows sloppy.

You squeeze your eyes shut, the muggy air making you deliciously light headed against his ministrations. 

The second finger brings a delightful stretch, your head falls back against the wall as you whine. It’s been a while. You harness some sort of defiance that refuses to fuck yourself when he’s gone. The week of nothing stretching you out causing for a tight suction around his two fingers as he fucks into you.

“Tight, baby. It’s been too long. I left you too long, my poor thing.”

Though your hand slowed against his cock, you’re still trying to keep up simulation for him, not wanting to be a cruel tease when he’s working against you so perfectly. Spencer pulls that hand away eventually though. Without explanation, you know he was about to cum. His stomach always flexes and twitches when he’s using all his willpower to hold back.

“Need it. Need you-” You gasp against his lips. Totally overzealous. Spencer knows the way you’re tight around him, you’re going to need a third finger to take him without your common whiny complaints.

Teeth knocking together, he continues to tongue kiss you. He wants to expedite this process of feeling you around his cock just as much as you do, he just has more willpower than you. You can mumble and beg and plead till tears well up in your eyes. His stomach swirls with a burning passion because of it, but he has no capability to hurt you. 

So you get another long finger inside you.

You let out a high pitched whimper- proving yourself wrong immediately. You needed to be stretched out this way. Damn his perceptiveness.

Your eyes roll back and your hips roll against the fingers rubbing against that sweet spot in you that shakes your thighs.

“You gotta keep yourself open for me when I’m gone, love.” He whispers brokenly into the thick air around you.

“Can’t. Only you.” You grumble back.

Spencer can’t get into the health benefits of taking care of yourself this way, especially in the long periods when he’s away. He can tell you’re bordering speechlessness and he’s dizzy enough to follow your technique of just letting out pretty moans.

A tiny trail of white essence pools around his fingers and he nearly keels over. You’re definitely ready to take him now. Seeing the ways he makes you feel good in the mess you make always drives him to the brink of insanity.

“Taking them out now. Gonna give you what you want. Feel ok?” He whispers into your ear before nibbling the lobe softly before parting to analyze your face.

“Feel reallyy good, Spence.” You smile a dazed grin at him, eyelids fluttering shut. Bringing the fingers that were just inside you to his lips he sucks them off and bites down on his fingers a bit too hard at the divine taste.

“Do you want to turn around for me, angel?”

Spencer’s trying to think of the best way to do this. His shower is nice, but isn’t the biggest shower in the world, he lives in an apartment in D.C. after all. He’s gonna have to fuck you from behind.

“Yeah, course.” You shift slowly, forearms out to brace yourself against the cold wall. Sticking your butt out playfully, he grips it softly, lines his cock against you.

“You feel okay? Ready?” He plants a kiss on your shoulder, you turn your head to make eye contact, you and Spencer usually can’t go too long without looking into each other's faces.

“Feel okay, really want you baby.”

Your head stays tilted to the side and your temple rests against the wall as he nudges his head against you.

Opening you up just enough, the stretch of all of him after a considerable amount of time has you keening.

The hand not gripping your waist moves up to cup one of your tits, rolling the sensitive nipple between his fingers.

“Fuck-” you whimper out meekly.

Letting him all the way in, he squeezes your breast for purchase. Looking at how he’s fully settled inside you, Spencer begins peppering soft kisses over your shoulder and spine, calming you and himself down.

Using the wall as leverage you slowly move yourself back against him, notifying Spencer you’re ready to be taken.

Gasping, he pulls almost all the way out to slowly fuck himself in again before settling on a good, unyielding pace. The feeling of your warm skin under his hands, warm cunt around his dick and warm water falling against his back is making him feel like he’s on a cloud. Completely blissed out having you in his arms again.

You groan (rather unladylike while getting fucked this way) and circle your hips against his thrusts. Spencer peers up at you, making sure your face isn’t holding any tension that could be read as something hurting. Instead you just open your mouth, ready for a finger.

Begrudgingly, he takes his hand off your breast to place his thumb down on your tongue, you moan happily and smile around him as your teeth scrape him lightly when he finds a delicious spot in you to pound at. 

Overwhelmed, he has to look up at the ceiling. He’s been so pent up that letting his hips move in autopilot against you, the quiet sopping sound of you two together over the water falling, the base of his spine tingles.

“Still okay?”

He asks at your closed eyes, you gurgle out an uh-huh against his thumb, drool rolling down your chin to be forgotten in the shower.

“Kay- good.” He kisses your cheek.

Feeling his orgasm beginning to build, Spencer takes his hand from your waist to move to the front of your hips where your clit is exposed.

A trembling bite is met against his thumb as he uses three fingers against you in relentless circles. Keeps his hips going the same pace.

“Spence- you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Ha- trying to, doll.” His eyebrows furrow- trying to hold back long enough so he can fuck you through your orgasm, though the tone of your voice is making that increasingly hard.

Your head lolls back against his shoulders and with a few “ah, ah, ah’s” you’re coming hard all over him.

“Good, yeah. You’re okay, feel so good f’me.” He whimpers as you begin to pull his orgasm from him. His hips still against you at your deepest point as you let out a tiny mewl at the stimulation. Tongue pushing out his thumb to moan freely.

He rocks himself inside you while holding your hips up, making sure no slips occur in his bathroom today. Spencer keeps grinding and rubbing your clit until you’re both shaky with overstimulation, and till you mutter out a “can’t-”. He doesn't argue with that.

The shower water is beginning to chill as he watches his cum slide down your thighs into the basin. Spencer is rubbing your arms soothingly up and down till he pulls you against him. 

“You wanna get out, pretty?”

“Cold.” You shudder.

Your legs feel like jelly when he’s wrapping a towel around your shoulders and ushering you into his bedroom. Another towel tied lowly on his waist he pulls an FBI hoodie over your raised arms and boxers up your legs. His own robe pulled off the door to drape over himself.

The tender attention you receive no matter what type of sex you and Spencer have always heats your cheeks with delight. A tender pressure is being massaged into your thighs with the lotion you brought over from your own apartment, and your eyes flutter shut as he mumbles something along the lines of “princess.. blah blah blah…” to you.

“Please never be away from me that long again. I really missed you, Spencer.”

All warmed up and soft from his pampering, you lie against his rising and falling chest.

“I know. I did too. It’s strange, I feel like when I’m with you, you act as my circadian rhythm. You ground me and keep me in check, I know when to wake up when you do. I sleep better, eat better. When we’re apart I struggle with that. You’re a resounding part of my day.”

You nuzzle against his chest, preening at his words. 

“I love you so much.”

“My baby, I love you too.”

Squished together tightly in a way that’s breeding an almost uncomfortable warmth, you and Spencer fall asleep. Hearts mirroring each other in matching soft and measured beats, the 216 painful hours apart start healing with every drum in your chests.

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ it’s ok i’m ok . . . m.s

in which . . . your best friend matt helps you get over your ex boyfriend.

warnings . . . SMUTTY, unprotected sex, degradation, use of pet names, fingering, kissing, oral, (fem!recieving) breast play, wall sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, edging, teasing, dom!matt, veryyy brief (barely) handjob, reader grinds on matt’s face, ummm lemme know if i forgot anything?

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

SO CLOSE TO WHAT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #11

“i don’t wanna talk about it,” you say softly, stretching your arms out, letting your head tilt back. you hear him exhale, and then, after a few moments, you feel him. the heat of matt near you as you both stood in his room. not trapping, not overwhelming…just there. solid. present. your boyfriend of 1 year had broken up with you a few days ago, and you didn’t know how to feel. you were honestly happy…but also pretty upset. you just wanted to get away from your ex, to forget about him.

“you sure?” matt’s voice is low, rough at the edges, the kind that sends a shiver down your spine. you nod, and when you look up, his eyes are already on you, watching. studying. like he’s trying to figure you out, even though he knows you better than anyone. “i’m okay,” you murmur, a little softer now, and it’s true. maybe it wasn’t earlier. maybe you were spiraling, feeling like everything was slipping through your fingers. but here, with him, with the way his fingertips skim against your bare shoulder, you feel grounded.

he leans down, just a little, his breath fanning against your skin. “you don’t have to be, i’m honestly surprised you aren’t a sobbing mess right now.” matt shrugged. your chest tightens, but not in a bad way, not in the way that makes it hard to breathe. but in the way that makes you aware of him, of how close he is, how easy it would be to turn and close the space between you. and god, you want to.

“i just wanna feel good,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. and that’s all it takes. matt’s lips brush against your shoulder first, slow and deliberate, like he’s asking for permission. then, higher…your neck, just below your jaw, where he knows you’re sensitive. his hands find your waist, pulling you back against him, fitting you together like you belong there.

“then let me make you feel good.”

his words send a heat through you, a slow-burning fire that ignites at your core. you turn in his hold, pressing your hands to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. matt’s eyes flicker down to your lips, and you don’t even hesitate. you close the distance, sinking into him, into the way he tastes, the way he moves against you, like he’s been waiting for this just as much as you have. his hands slide down, gripping your hips, pulling you even closer. the rest of the world fades away, the night, the noise, everything but the feeling of him. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and the low sound he makes in response sends another shiver down your spine.

matt is on you in an instant, strong arms hauling you against his muscular chest. his mouth crashes against yours in a bruising kiss, tongue delving deep to claim you. you moan into him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as he walks you backwards until your ass hits the wall. he pins you there with his hard body, one hand gripping your wrists above your head while the other squeezes your boobs through your shirt. mmm, let me make you feel good, let me make you forget about that asshole." he growls against your lips, hips grinding into yours. you can feel his erection straining against his jeans, the thick ridge pressing insistently against your core. "please," you pant, arching into him.

with a quick flick of his fingers, he unhooks your bra and tugs it off, letting your breasts spill free. he palms them roughly, thumbs circling your nipples until they harden under his touch. "oh fuck," you cry out, head falling back against the wall as he pinches and tugs at the sensitive buds. his mouth descends on one breast, sucking the nipple into his hot mouth. he bites down gently before swirling his tongue around the sensitive flesh, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "matt.." you whimper, hips bucking against his. matt chuckles darkly.

his other hand undoes your pants, shoving them down along with your panties. he finds your dripping folds, stroking through the slick heat. "so fucking wet already," he purrs, circling your clit with a teasing touch. "you're a needy little slut, aren't you?" you whimper, trying to push your hips into his hand for more pressure. "that's it, grind on my fingers pretty girl.." matt taunts, plunging two digits into your tight pussy. he pumps them hard and fast, finger-fucking you brutally. his thumb rubs tight circles on your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

"cum for me," he demands, fingers thrusting deeper. "cum on my fingers." your orgasm crashes over you, back arching off the wall as you spasm around his invading digits. matt fucks you through it, drawing out your pleasure until you're boneless and trembling. as you come down, he pulls his fingers from your pussy, bringing them to his lips to lick your juices off. "you taste so fucking good," he groans, lapping at his digits. he drops to his knees in front of you, spreading your legs wide. "now it's my turn to eat this sweet cunt."

he buries his face between your thighs, tongue diving into your soaked folds. he licks and sucks at your pussy, alternating between long strokes and hard flicks of his tongue on your clit. you grip his hair, holding him in place as you grind shamelessly against his face. matt drives two fingers into your tight pussy, curling them just right to hit that perfect spot inside you. "fuck, just like that," you moan, walls fluttering around his invading digits. he pumps them faster, tongue lashing your clit as he finger-fucks you hard and deep.

"i'm gonna cum," you pant, thighs trembling. he doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his hot mouth as he fucks you with his fingers. your orgasm slams into you, making you scream as pleasure explodes through every nerve ending. he keeps licking and sucking, drawing out your release until you collapse against the wall, absolutely spent. he stands, face glistening with your juices. "you're so pretty when you come undone," he says huskily, kissing you deeply so you can taste yourself on his tongue. you return the kiss hungrily, hands fumbling to undo his jeans and free his throbbing erection.

you wrap your hand around his length, stroking slowly from base to tip. matt groans into your mouth, hips rolling into your touch. "i need to be inside you," he pants, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist. you line him up with your entrance, feeling the broad head of his cock nudge against your slick folds. "fuck me," you demand, sinking down onto his thick length in one smooth motion. he bottoms out inside you, stretching you. "oh god yes," you moan out, clenching around him. matt grips your hips hard as he starts to move, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in.

the force of his thrusts rocks you against the wall, his cock driving deep into your pussy with each snap of his hips. you hold on tight, nails digging into his shoulders as he pounds into you relentlessly. "ah, oh my gosh matt" you cry out, head thudding back against the wall. he smiles, fucking you so hard the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. "take my cock," he grunts, slamming up into you brutally. "fucking take it." your pussy spasms around him, drawing him deeper. "yes, just like that," you pant, feeling another orgasm building. he angles his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust.

"i'm gonna fill this pretty pussy up," matt growls, one hand snaking between your bodies to rub tight circles on your clit. "gonna make you full of my cum." the dirty words push you over the edge and you cum with a scream, your pussy clamping down on his cock. he follows shortly after with a loud groan, burying himself to the hilt as he explodes inside you. you feel his hot seed painting your walls, filling you up just like he promised. he rocks into you a few more times, drawing out both your pleasure until you're boneless and sated.

matt holds you against the wall, panting heavily as you both come down from the high of your shared climax. "holy shit," he says finally, giving you a lopsided grin. "you feel better now?" you can only nod as you stupidly smile, still lost in the haze of pleasure.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

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[multiversediaries]

LOVE BRUISES

⤷ BUCKY BARNES X READER

Summary: A passionate night with Bucky caused a painful cervix bruise. Now all healed up, your boyfriend is scared to hurt you again.

Warning: soft and very cute, domestic buck! mentions of sex, small smut!

Part count: 1/2

A/N: hope you all enjoy! i absolutely adore domestic buck <3 apologies for any mistakes! english is not my first language :( i recently had eye surgery so my vision is a bit impaired! please do let me know of any grammatical mistakes!!

Your eyes widen at the intense pain you were currently feeling. A curse slipped from your lips, as you tried sitting on your shared bed. It was the day after an intense night with your long time boyfriend, Bucky Barnes.

Bucky could be rough at times, not that you hated it. In the contrary, you would find yourself begging the Winter Soldier to touch you, and pound you harder. But it seems like yesterday was too much for you to handle.

You made your way towards your bathroom, trying to continue on with your day. But the awful pain in your back and abdomen was driving you absolutely inside.

Samuel leaned back into his chair, staring at you, as you walked into the living room. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the way you were walking.

“You good?” Sam chuckled, crossing his arms infront of his chest. You shot him an annoyed look, shaking your head. You walked up to the couch, attempting to sit down without hurting yourself even more. “Rough night?” Sam teased you, raising an eyebrow at you. You snickered at him, knowing he probably heard you both last night. You remember how loud you were, not that your sore throat was any reminder.

“Too rough, it seems.” You replied, biting your lip. It was embarrassing to talk about this with Sam, but you were all so close to each other.

“No shit.” Sam laughed, throwing his head back whilst laughing still. You shook your head softly, furrowing your eyebrows, feeling a bit nauseous now. Sam’s laughter soon died down, as he saw your pained expression. “Oh, shit.”

“I’m fine! I swear.” You started, waving your arms in front of you, to try and stop Sam from panicking. “Bucky’s just… a big man, y’know? And we can get pretty… Let’s just say it was bound to happen.” You blushed at your own words. Bucky was much bigger than you, in height and built.

“I think I should get checked up, though. Pain’s pretty bad.” You continued, trying to change the conversation. You didn’t want to talk about your sex life to Bucky’s best friend. Sam sat up straight, biting his lip in worry.

“Shit, maybe he bruised you.” Sam said softly. This was probably it. It happens all the time, but this was your very first time experiencing something like this. You sighed softly, nodding your head.

“Do you mind distracting Buck while I go? Don’t want him to worry about this.” You asked.

“Oh, that ain’t gon’ work. Don’t you know the man?” Sam shook his head, knowing how overprotective Bucky was with you.

“Oh, come on, Sam. I won’t be long, just distract him—“

“Distract me from what?” You heard the man of the hour say softly. You closed your eyes, biting your bottom lip. Great. You slowly turned to look at him, staring at his serious expression. A smile instantly appeared in your lips, being so whipped for your boyfriend. His expression softened by your sweet face, now walking closer to you in the couch.

“Nothing. Just wanna get checked up really quick.” You said gently, trying to avoid certain words to prevent any worry from him. However, he knew you like the back of his hand, and he knew you were hiding something from him.

“Checked up? For what?”

“Oh, just—”

“She’s sore.” Sam started, your eyes widen quickly before quickly turning to look at Sam, your eyes begging him to shut up. “From last night.” He continued, and you couldn’t help but sigh, Bucky’s eyes widen, quickly meeting yours. He took in the sight of you, as if looking for discomfort and pain.

“What?— Did I hurt you, doll?” Bucky’s voice softened, his hands cupping your face, now kneeling in front of you. You could’ve sworn you almost melted into your seat.

“No, Buck, of course not!” You started, shaking your head, your hands laying on top of his in your face. You genuinely didn’t want him to worry or even worse, blame himself. You heard him sigh, knowing deep inside you were lying. He could feel your tense muscles; probably from the pain.

“I’ll take you to the clinic, okay?” He continued to softly speak to you. You sighed gently as his loving hands left your face to gently caress your thigh.

Cervical bruising.

God, it was extremely embarrasing to hear your doctor explain how to practice safe sex right in front of your long term partner. You remember how awkward the drive home was. Silent. Not uncomfortable, you could never be uncomfortable with Bucky, but you could just tell he felt terrible for overworking you that night.

Nights have passed awfully slow. You felt restless. Probably because your usually, very physically loving boyfriend rarely touched you. It was as if Bucky was somewhat scared of hurting you with his touch. Scared that a single caress could break you. The first nights, he even went as far as making a wall out of your extra pillows, just to be extra sure he wouldn't roll over you or embrace you at night. You ensured him it was not necessary, but after the advices of your doctor to hopefully ease your pain, Bucky was adamant to your safely and comfort. Bucky even went as far as getting you a heating pad, as your doctor explained how it would help with the pain. He just wanted you to be safe and healthy.

Bur you only craved the touch of your gentle soldier. For these endless couple of nights, Bucky would shower before bed, as usual, and hop into his side of the bed. He'd place a sweet, awfully short peck to your lips, roll on his side and fall asleep. It started to hurt your feelings how he seemed to rest so well without hugging you through the night. Soon enough, a couple of nights had passed since your small, and embarrassing injury. You felt as if you were going insane. You weren't only craving the sweet embrace of your man at night, you were also so incredibly horny.

You felt like a teenager, getting excited by the single sight of Bucky resetting his metal arm, or by the way his necklace would dangle over your face whenever he would help you to bed. It was the smallest things that would just get you going. You were currently watching as Sam and Bucky continued to fix Sam's family boat, standing by a pole, gently leaning on it. Bucky was wearing a short sleeve grey t-shirt, that accentuated his muscles perfectly. It brought butterflies to your stomach as Bucky noticed your frame, his attention now on his beautiful girl.

"Wait inside, baby. Don't want you to stand in the sun like that." Bucky spoke, a bit loud for you to hear. You smiled at him, shaking your head.

"It's okay! I'm a bit bored inside... Anything I can help with?"

"Yeah, actually! Grab that-"

"Sam." Bucky leaned over to softly slap Sam's chest. "No. She's supposed to be resting.' He continued, earning a small groan to leave your lips. Sam chuckled, raising his arms up in defense. Bucky wiped his greasy hands, walking towards you right after. "Doctor's orders." He said, his voice stern yet so incredibly loving, as if he were still worried. "I'll get you a chair, mhm? You can watch us or somethin." He mumbled, planting a sweet kiss to your cheek, before walking away. You let out a big sigh, closing your eyes in annoyance.

"Doctor's orders, he said." Sam mocked, a smirk in his face. A small grin appeared on your lips as you heard him mock your overprotecting boyfriend.

"I'm okay now. It happened almost two weeks ago and he's still..." You started, walking a bit closer to Sam. It was true. You felt all back to normal, and had been feeling this way for a few days now. No pain, no discomfort. You just felt needy.

"Y’know he's all intense like that." Sam said, offering you a small smile, while still working on the boar. You nodded, shrugging your shoulders. Bucky was just very overprotective over you, you knew this. It wasn't out of character for him to act this way. But now that you were all healed, you couldn't help but feel a bit bad, a bit unwanted even.

You spent the entire day, sitting, watching them work. Whenever you'd try to help, your sergeant of a boyfriend would order you back to your seat. You were only allowed to do small work, like hold their tools, which was exactly what you were doing right now. Here you stood, by the first floor of the boat, holding a screw driver as Bucky tried to fix the motor. You were so incredibly bored, but your mind was definitely active, dirty thoughts filling your mind. His grey shirt was now wet, and stained. It hugged his body even better than before.

"You okay, doll?" Bucky chuckled as he watched you, watching him. He had noticed a while ago, yet had decided to not mention it, loving your gaze on him. Your cheeks flushed, nodding your head.

"You look good." You simply said, your ears turning red. embarrassed by being caught staring. There was just so much tension between you, sexual tension.

"Yeah?" Bucky cockily asked, tilting his head, to follow your eyes as you tried hiding your flushed expression. He had even placed his tools down, now fully entertaining you. You nodded your head, now staring into his eyes, giggling softly. Your laugh died very quickly now swallowing hard as you took in how close he was.

His hands took their place in your hips. He felt you shake at his touch, noticing his effect on you. His face so close to yours, you could feel his breathing by your cheek. Bucky licked his lips, his eyes roaming your entire body, fully checking you out. His breath hitched, watching you be so visibly affected by him. It was so obvious how both of you were so deprived of one another.

You don't even remember who started the kiss. You just know your hands were now tangled in his soft hair, as Bucky devoured your mouth. There was no point in stopping the moans and whimpers that left your mouth, you were in pure bliss. Your tongues continued to explore each other's mouth, kissing passionately. Bucky would pull away for air, hissing in between kisses, genuinely feeling as if he were going insane. He was desperate. So desperate that his hands lifted you up, sitting you down on the same motor he had been trying to fix earlier. He now stood between your legs, his hands cupping your head, kissing you deeply and lovingly.

"Oh, baby..." Bucky whimpered once he pulled away for air yet again. Both your chests rising up and down, already exhausted by your very heated make out session. Bucky's hands ran ro your thighs, gently rubbing them continiously. His eyes were closed, and his forehead stayed glued to yours. Your eyes opened, missing the feeling of his lips on yours, needing more of him. You hummed, in confusion, yet Bucky's eyes stayed closed, wetting his lips. He seemed to be containing himself. His hands on your thighs now squeezing them, trying to calm him eager and lust down. You could simply tell he was holding back from loving you.

No.

You connected your lips yet again, grabbing ahold of his shirt, and crashing your lips together, where they belonged. You refused to go down without a fight. You refused to let him get away. A moan left his lips, his hands starting to run to your waist, needing to feel you yet again. It felt so good, so right. Your heads continued to tilt, allowing each other access ro just eat each other's lips. You remember his tongue brushing over your bottom lip, God, it was all so messy. Goosebumps cpvered your entire skin, this was his effect on you. This heaven of yours was adrumptedly interrupted yet again. Bucky has disconnected your lips, his hands now gripping your thighs yet again.

"Y/N..." his breath shuttered. God, he was so desperate and you knew this. You knew him like the back of your hand, and you could just tell by the way he refused to meet your eyes that he was holding back. You could tell by the way his body seemed to not want to obey his words, still caressing you.

"No, doll. We…” Buck tried saying, one of his hands now running through his face, as shaky breaths left his mouth. He was long gone. It was taking everything in him. “Shit, we can’t.”

"What?"

Bucky looked up to meet your eyes, his hands now on your waist, caressing your exposed skin with his thumbs. He sighed shakily, trying to get his breathing under control. He was scared to hurt you again. He was scared he'd lose control like he had done last tine, and hurt you. You gulped as you watched him, searching for a response in his face.

"Can hurt you again, baby. You haven't even healed."

"Bucky..." Your hands now laid on top of his. "I'm all healed up! I promise." You started, earning a few shakes of his head. "Yes, Buck. It hasn't hurt for a while now."

Bucky simply shook his head yet again. A big sigh left his lips, as he now hid his face in the comfort of the crook of your neck. Your arms carefully wrapped around his broad shoulders, feeling your loving boyfriend leave soft, wet kisses on your sweet skin. You couldn't stop yourself from shuttering at the gesture. Only after a few seconds, Bucky leaned back, pecking your red lips just one more time, before helping you down to your feet. He took a deep breath, and long look at you, before turning back to continue his work on the motor. The motor he almost took you on top of just now.

You frowned deeply, your head almost dropping in defeat. You put your hair in a ponytail, feeling hot after everything that had just happened. You wanted to be mad, really, you did. But how could you? When this man loved you so much he kept holding himself back in fears of possibly hurting you? You were just... upset. How would you convince this man of yours you had healed? and that he could never hurt you?

"I'm 'bout to come down." You both heard Sam announce from above. You both chuckled at Sam, shaking your head softly. Bucky grinned widely, watching as Sam came down the stairs cautiously.

“Why are you the way you are?” Bucky said between chuckles, grabbing a hold of his tools yet again.

"Y'all are forbidden from doin' it inside my family boat, I hope y'all know that." Sam mumbled, walking towards the both of you. Bucky snickered, softly hitting him in the shoulder. You laughed a bit, leaning back and watchihg them work.

Your mind soon went back to the same question...

How would you take those negative thoughts out of the mind of James Barnes? When would you feel the loving touch of your boyfriend again?

Fucking cervix bruise.