#idk I'm eager for what comes

[soubidou]

Me: Aw, Silver is turning out to be a sweet guy to and with Suvi and I hope we get to see more of hi-

Brennan: He's leaving for the front kudos see you next week ���🏻

[empirenowmp3]

European part of a world tour and it's just.... six countries

Why are so many k-pop companies allergic to any place east of Berlin is beyond me

[in-tua-deep]

wait i just remembered. on friday we has a "awesome committee" staff meeting which is apparently just a meeting for staff to like. bring food. play games. and bond with each other? and this week we played two truths and a lie

mine were i have only broken one bone and it wasn't even my fault (lie), i'm the youngest of five children (true), and i dislocated my arm six times before the age of seven (also true)

so many people picked the youngest of five children as the lie. one person commented that they thought i might have four sibling but i don't give off youngest child energy or something

what does that mean

what. what energy do i give off. what birth order vibe do i have. i just remember this happened and it has been haunting me ever since

[honeyblackberries]

In the back seat (18+)

caleb x fem reader/mc smut

minors dni | inspired by diet pepsi by addison rae | cross-posted to ao3

word count: 1466

cw: simp caleb, soft dom caleb, he also likes to bite, pantie freak caleb, reader enables him, praise, oral (fem receiving), p in v, responsible car sex <333 (don't get freaky in a rental car irl), irresponsible intercourse (caleb doesn’t wrap it before he taps it), porn with feelings, porn no plot because idk how to write plot but i also can’t really write porn so maybe this is a secret third thing, no set pov.

names used: pips (pipsqueak but cuter), good girl, pretty girl, my girl

If Caleb is being honest with himself this moment is something straight out of his teenage fantasies. Driving along the coast with you in the passenger's seat, listening as you sing along to a song that’s been on repeat for the past half hour. Hair softly blowing in the wind as the late afternoon sun glows behind you like a halo.

You’re an angel he thinks, how else could you bless him with such a gift on one of his rare days off. The keys to his dream car—with the disclaimer that it was only a rental during his visit to Linkon—and that short sundress… His gaze unconsciously drifts from the road and onto you.

Maybe wet dreams are a better description for this. The way the hem of your dress rides up your thighs while you shift to find a more comfortable position, cotton panties peeking out underneath it.

Your eyes meet his and Caleb feels his pants tighten.

Today was supposed to be a well deserved break from all the demands that come with being the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel. Something relaxing. Yet he can’t help but feel inclined to the complete opposite. Back ramrod straight and hand, previously loose and confident on the wheel, now gripping it so tight that his knuckles strain.

“I'm happy you’re here,” you say sweetly and he has to stop himself from acting like a horny dog. “Is there anything you wanna do before we head home?”

“Eat you out,” he thinks dreamily.

“..What?”

Shit. Shit. How could he say that out loud!? He’s an idiot, a depraved fool—

“Well, okay.”

He almost crashes the car.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to—I mean—I didn’t mean to say it out loud,” you laugh at him and he isn’t sure whether to be mortified or turned on.

“Pull over.” He does.

Caleb doesn’t realise it but despite the less than innocent circumstances his silly reaction makes you smile. Happy at the expression that settles on his handsome face. How his eyes light up in a way you never really see anymore, giddy and unrestrained.

‘Cute,’ you want to tease, but he’s already rolling the tinted windows up. Undoing his seatbelt and moving into the back seat. Oh how could you keep him waiting when he’s just so eager? You undo your own seatbelt and amusedly follow along. Moving to get on top of him.

“Don’t hover pips,” he instructs—in that know-it-all voice he’s used since you were kids—and you don’t get the chance to consider it. Not when his hands trail under your skirt to grab your thighs and impatiently bring you down onto his face.

“Fuck you smell so good,” his nose presses right against your clothed heat. He inhales deeply. “I could get off just from smelling you, just from smelling these,” his lips part to let teeth graze the thin fabric of your panties.

“I can keep 'em when we're done, yeah?” His hot breath makes a shiver run through you in anticipation. His tongue licks down the centre where a wet patch starts to form. “I’ll cook dinner in return.”

You want to argue that he always cooks dinner. But you want what he’s currently offering more.

Your small hum of agreement is all he needs.

Safe to say, Caleb does mouth at you like a dog. Desperate, hungry, tongue heavy and slobbering. You have to push yourself against his chest to keep steady. The toned muscles there flexing as he eats like he’s been starved.

“Good girl, sittin’ so pretty for me,” his praise is barely understandable. Voice muffled and lower than a moment ago.

One of his hands leaves your thighs, his fingers moving to the fabric separating you. He teasingly pulls it back and lets go, a light snap against your skin. You flinch and he chuckles in response. He then pushes it to the side to expose you bare to him. Continuing to lick, this time with the addition of his thumb rubbing directly against your sensitive bud.

“Delicious,” he moans at the taste and sucks at your clit for more.

You’re not sure how long you last before everything crashes down all at once. Your orgasm racking your body and leaving you trembling. Dripping right into his open mouth.

The way your breath hitches and small whines you make when you cum always remind him how he could spend the rest of his life between your thighs. Forever wanting you pliant in his hold like this.

As you start to feel yourself coming down from the high, Caleb lightly bites at your tender flesh, making you yelp. He places a soft kiss in apology, even though you both know he isn’t sorry in the slightest.

In an act of revenge you start to reach for where he needs it. Fingertips barely brushing the large tent in his pants before he grabs your wrist to stop you.

“Next time pips, I’ll go crazy if I’m not inside you soon.” At that you’re suddenly flipped around, back pressed against the leather seat. Wedged in the cramped space afforded to you between the car and his large body.

Caleb looks down at you with a wide grin. The lower half of his face damp with your arousal and his own saliva.

“Let me put it in?”

Even when he’s like this the words come out as a question. He’ll only do it if you let him, only if you want it half as much as he does. His silver necklace dangles in front of you and reflected in it is your lips, curled up into an affirmative.

Caleb wastes no time. Hurriedly undoing his pants and freeing his hard leaking cock. Leaning over you with one hand beside your head as the other grasps his reddened tip and nudges you panties to the side with it. Lining himself up he sinks into you slowly.

“You’re heaven,” he yaps, already pussy drunk. "You feel like heaven, ugh—like you were made for me. Weren’t you?”

He shakes his head at his own words, as if a better explanation came to him. Then he resolutely bottoms out inside you.

“No, I was the one made for you.”

“Caleb—” you whine at the feeling of being so full. Arms moving to wrap around his torso, not sure if to hold him closer or push him away.

He groans, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to fight off the orgasm that would have had him cumming from the way you say his name. Testingly, he pulls out slightly just to push back in. Repeating shallow thrusts to get you comfortable.

“More,” you beg.

“Of course,” he kisses you and you can taste yourself on him. “I aim to please.” His pace quickens, becoming rough. You can’t help but clench at the immediate change.

“Oh shit—loosen up pretty girl.” You try to.

Over and over you feel his cock try to make your cunt give in to him, and when he feels the grip of your walls ease up slightly he angles his hips to hit deeper.

You claw at his back, the fabric of his shirt catching under your fingers. The feeling of him too much.

“You like that huh?”

The car windows are fogging at the spike in body heat, neither of you letting up until you both get your fill. The sounds of shallow breathing and skin against skin the only thing that can be heard.

Caleb bites your lip when he kisses you in between thrusts. Like he wants to devour you in every way possible.

“I’m—close,” you bury your face into his neck, trying to ground yourself.

He nearly slips entirely out of you. Hips starting to lose their rhythm, a sign that he is too.

“I know—fuck—cum with me.”

Your release comes first, and he doesn’t last long after.

“That's my girl.”

His movements slow as he spills into you. A white ring forming around the base of him as a mix of both your cum tries to leak out. He grinds a few times to make sure it stays then collapses on top of you.

The two of you remain like that for a few minutes, relishing in the feeling of your chests pressed together as you cool down. Caleb’s cock slowly going limp inside you.

His hands move to cradle your face, gently stroking your cheeks as he kisses all over with cherishing lightness.

“I love you.”

“Love you too Caleb.”

Then he has to go and ruin the moment.

“Panties please,” he holds out his hand. Asking for a treat.

You sigh, the post-nut clarity kicking in. “I’ll give it to you after I wash it.”

“Don’t wash it.”

“...”

a/n: rip need everyone to know this was initially supposed to be a sylus fic. also what do we think do we like me actually trying to make the layout nice/not write in all lowercase??

[tiramissyoucake]

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI. More marriage with Viltrum Mark ty for liking the last one, I wrote this wit a headache

CW: not proof-read, forced marriage, fem reader, dub-con, straight piv, partially clothed, I don't know shit about the garter tradition, some dirty talk idk, Mark is way too horny about getting married

It was odd. The wedding had so many 'earth' traditions carried out. Mark slipping a ring on your finger and watching you do the same, bringing a Viltrumite of a high position to declare you married, kissing you tenderly like he didn't take away everything from you for his selfish desire, he did it under the impression that it'd please you, all it did was make you miss home.

You dreaded the bedroom the most as he carried you back, the silver white of his clothes duller than the pure white that hugged your body; the one he requested. There was no use clawing or fighting him like you did during the first few weeks on this planet, he was stronger and as much as you hated to admit he was right; there's nowhere to go on Viltrum or the galaxy.

You were snapped out of the despaired haze as Mark impatiently dropped you on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows as he wrapped his strong arms around your thighs, sitting on his knees with all his decorum gone, he panted. "I've been waiting for this." lifting your legs as the garter came into view, the dress spilling and compiling at your waist.

"Earther men have some sort of custom related to this," he started, looking between you and that flimsy piece of fabric that clamped around the meat of your thigh, gaze sharp and hungry. "The groom removes this from his bride, right?"

You noted how he paused, as if waiting for you to answer, you glanced away uncomfortably. "... It's mainly a... 'western' tradition."

"But an Earther one, right?" He seemed too eager to listen to objections, lips running over your thigh, a trembled sigh coating your skin as if he couldn't believe this was happening, you resisted the urge to squirm. "Let me have you." He mumbled.

His teeth clamped onto the cloth, ensuring he had a firm grip as he tugged it down, painfully slowly. Sharp eyes looking up at you to drink up your emotions; embarrassment? Love? Fear? Mark convinced himself it was all the same with you.

After removing it, he spat the garment aside, so abruptly it made you jump, "Lay back." He demanded quietly as he climbed into the lavish bed, mattress sinking under his weight.

His hands quickly trailed over your body, lips hurriedly coming down to meet yours in a yearning kiss, feeling you, drinking you in. "My bride... my beautiful bride.." he mumbled to himself between kisses, parting his lips to deepen the kiss further as he practically moaned into your mouth.

Your hands came up under the assumption that he'd try to remove the dress before he swatted one hand away impatiently. "No. Keep it on." He almost growled as he tugged your thighs closer, his hard length pressing against you beneath the fabric. "I want to fuck you in this dress."

There was something about touching you and kissing you as you were dolled up for him that drove him insane. Was it the outfit? The clothes? The fact that it's your wedding night? He didn't care.

He undid his robes, Viltrum clothes coming undone as he tugged his waistband down enough, grunting as his cock sprang free, throbbing and ready to finally consummate. "Look what you do to me.." his hand tugged up your wedding dress impatiently, your face reddened at the harsh gesture, grasping his wrist. "Mark..!"

"Oh, relax... I'm your husband now." Mark's hands clutched the waistband of your panties, tugging them off normally would require him to move, so his fists clenched around the fabric as he easily shredded it to pieces, eliciting a shocked noise from you. "What're you doing..?! You could've moved!"

"Not even a thousand men could move me right now." He shot back, eyeing you with such a hungry look it made you embarrassed to be seen by him, his gaze remained on you as he threw aside the flimsy fabric.

"My formalwear and your dress stay." He panted, shuffling closer and caging you between his arms. "This is our first night together... as husband and wife." His lips stretched to a smile, it sounded like he was narrating this to himself out of pure ecstasy.

"S-slow, please— slow—" your lips parted in shock feeling the head of his cock slowly rub and push against you, his eyes squinting but never closing as he committed every detail of your face's changes to memory, inch by delicious inch.

"My cute wife..." he practically moaned, hips pressing against you harshly as he bottomed out. "Mmmmh.. I love you.. say it back to me.."

You couldn't speak, not when his hips immediately picked up a rhythm, his dick forcing a moan out of you with every thrust, nestling deeper and deeper with every 'plap!' That resounded. "Say it back— mmh, fuck.. say you love me.."

Sweat coated your body quickly, the dress making you even more heated as it was trapped underneath. "L-love... you..!" You barely strung the words together, your moans and noises resounding faster than you could speak.

Plap! Plap! Plap! The sweat pooling under your dress, The throb of his cock, his moaning flooding your senses, his height and size consuming you as he leaned over you, you could barely focus on anything as your jaw hung slack moaning aimlessly.

"Yeah? You love me?" He sounded like a kid in a candy shop, he always got like this when you showed a smidge of affection. "Of course— mmh, of course you would.. I'm your husband after all... hah..."

His hands pushed your palms open, jamming his fingers between yours as his hips pistoned into you, pussy struggling to accommodate his crushing speed, overwhelming you mentally and physically. "I'll make sure you're full of my cum, it's what my cute wife deserves, isn't it?" He punctuated his point with a harsh buck of his hips.

"You'll be the happiest woman in the entire fucking galaxy, fuck..!" Mark hissed, the discomfort of sweat piling onto his skin was nothing compared to the pleasure of your cunt sucking him in. "I love you, I love you... fuck, I love you...!"

He took advantage of your open mouth to kiss you sloppily, his tongue filling your mouth easily as he swallowed your moans. It was disgusting and debauched, just how he liked you.

"Hah, 'm gonna cum.." he groaned between kisses, moving his hips faster— curse his Viltrumite stamina. "You're close, aren't you? I can feel you tightening." He grinned at your cock-dumb expression, trying to ground yourself in reality through the pounding in your womb, the shameful sloppy slapping echoing from your hips taunting you.

"Cum for me, cum on your husband's cock." He demanded over your moans, holding his own against you, though it wasn't long before you were sent over the edge, stilling and shaking as your orgasm practically shook you at your core, your tightening cunt catching him off-guard.

"D-don't do that you— Nnh..!!" Mark gritted his teeth as his cock finally, finally, filled you. he desperately slammed his hips down one final time to ensure no drop would escape you unless it was because he filled you too much, his loud groaning shadowing your moans as he tightened his hold over your hands, hot load spilling and spilling.

The full feeling in your cunt, your husband panting over you as he slumped into your breasts, hugging you closely like an emotional support plushie, it would have been sweet had he not still been nestled inside you. "G-Give me... 5 minutes... and we'll go again.."

You gasped as you sat up a bit to look down at him, alarmed. "A-again..?!"

He looked at you with such a tired but smug expression, hair tousled more so than usual now as he laughed. "I'm not like those puny earthling men, it's our wedding night, I plan to make the most of it..."

[pomefioredove]

a private meeting

summary: yuu makes a list of the top five cutest third years. the following conversation type of post: short fic characters: cater, trey, leona, rook, vil, idia mentioned, lilia, malleus additional info: romantic?? platonic?? idk, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is more for character interactions. and fun

"I'm sure you're all well aware of why we're here,"

The eight gentleman standing around the dark, candlelit room look between each other.

Leona yawns.

"How long is this gonna take, exactly? I was dragged outta bed for this,"

Vil glares. "Hush. I wanted to deal with this matter in the quietest manner possible, without disturbing the prefect. Sevens know what happens when your egos go unchecked,"

"Look who's talking,"

Another glare, but Vil chooses not to waste any more time.

"Two nights ago, the prefect hosted a slumber party for Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Jack Howl, and our own Epel Felmier,"

"I remember that," Lilia says, rubbing his chin. "Sebek was invited, but refused in case someone attacked Malleus whilst he was away."

Malleus shakes his head.

"During this event, the prefect created a list of the top five "cutest third years", as we all know. And, to avoid any childish squabbling, I've gathered you all here to open it as an ensemble. Rook?"

A slim, folded sheet of notebook paper appears from the dark of Rook Hunt's pocket. He holds it up, as if presenting it to the heavens.

"Where did you even find that?" Trey asks, adjusting his glasses.

"Facile! It was buried under a stack of homework assignments in our dearest Trickster's bedroom," the blond says merrily.

"Logistically speaking, that's almost too easy. Are we sure it isn't a fake?" Ortho pipes up.

"Ortho?" Vil asks. "What are you doing here?"

The boy giggles in an electronic chime. "Idia is hiding under his covers and won't come out, so I'm here in his place!"

"...Alright,"

"I don't know what he's so nervous for," Vil goes on. "When I am already guaranteed to be in the first place slot."

Leona scoffs, kicking back with his feet on the table. Vil glares again.

"How rude,"

"He's not wrong. You are the most beautiful here..." a smile creeps up Lilia's face. "But, as I recall, you said cutest third years, not most beautiful. And if anyone is the cutest, it's me."

"Oh, spare me," Leona sighs. "Let's just get this over with. Open the damn thing."

"You're not the least bit curious, Leona?" the fae asks, batting his large eyes.

"Don't patronize me. And no, I'm not. I couldn't care less,"

Lilia smirks, but says nothing more on the matter.

He turns to his tablemate. "And what say you, Malleus?"

Every person in the room falls silent, and then turn to the prince sitting at the furthest corner of the table with his hands folded in front of him.

He hasn't shared a single thought all evening.

"...The contents of this list make no difference to me," he finally speaks. "My feelings towards the prefect will be unaffected."

Rook sets a hand over his heart. "Quelle beauté! I am moved! Not even the strongest of winds could make your friendship bow,"

Leona groans as if he's in agonizing pain.

"Open it!"

"Okay, hold on. Isn't this like, a major privacy violation?" Cater says. He doesn't sound eager to see the results, either.

"I would hate for someone to read my private thoughts to a room full of people."

"He may have a point. This was a list made between friends at a slumber party. Taking it out of that context could be disastrous," Trey agrees.

"There's a 96% chance this will end in conflict!" Ortho chimes in, merry as ever. Leona sighs.

"Can I just leave?"

"No," Vil snaps. "Rook, open it."

"Rook, don't,"

"Rook!"

The poor man observes the conflict slowly unraveling before him, and he sets the folded sheet of paper on the table.

"Now, now, do not squabble! Let this be a chance to celebrate our bonds with the lovely prefect!"

"I agree with Rook," Lilia smiles big. "We should all agree that no matter what is on that list, we'll leave it after tonight and move on."

Vil sighs. "Yes, yes. You're all right. We can't let what they wrote at a private slumber party affect our relationships with them,"

"No matter what, we leave them out of this. Agreed?"

Everyone in the room nods.

"Alright. Rook, read it,"

Rook reaches behind him, the anticipation building, and... is met with a cool wooden surface.

The note seems to have disappeared into thin air.

Before anyone can express their obvious confusion, an evil cackling pulls their attention to the doorway.

Vil gasps.

"Grim! Put that down!"

The small direbeast, now holding a crumpled piece of paper in his paw, smiles wickedly.

And then, to everyone's horror, he eats it whole.

Leona is the first to react, storming over and lifting Grim by the scruff of his neck. "Seriously?!"

"Fufufu. Looks like someone cared, after all," Lilia chuckles. Vil rolls his eyes.

"Hey! Not my fault you guys were so loud! You woke me up from my nap over a stupid list!" Grim says, crossing his arms.

A brief silence follows, and then a sigh. Leona drops him and he lands on his feet.

"Perhaps Grim is right," Ortho says. "Instead of worrying about the numerical grade the prefect assigns you, you should focus on the unique and special aspects of your individual relationships!"

"How eloquent!" Rook coos. "Oui, you are right! Sometimes it is best to let secrets remain secrets."

"Something about the way he says that tells me he already knows what it said," Leona grumbles.

"Ohoho. A fascinating mystery, non? Did I sneak a peek before tonight, or am I just as clueless as you?"

The prince rolls his eyes.

Vil sighs. "Ortho is right. Now I feel ridiculous for getting so worked up over what amounts to a joke at a slumber party,"

Everyone grows quiet, seemingly reflecting on themselves for the duration of the brief silence.

Lilia's giggles change the melancholic mood of the room.

"Perhaps Malleus had the right idea all along. It doesn't matter who the prefect thinks is more attractive; they're still a wonderful friend. How wise- I'm very proud,"

Malleus beams.

"Yeah yeah," Grim grumbles, turning to the door. "I didja a favor, anyway. None of you weirdos were number one."

He leaves, and he takes the peace and reflection with him.

Slowly, everyone turns to each other.

[sweetfictionalworld]

Distraction

Pairing: Seong Gi-hun x Female Reader

Requested by @queencvrdwv : hi girlyy, I just saw your request and I NEED a Seong Gi-hun x reader🙏🏽 Like idk, headcanons or maybe the bathroom scene from Season 1? I mean, Gi-hun is stressed after the first two games so Reader tries to comfort him and it leads to some lewd things in the bathroom😝

Warnings: Nsfw, Smut, Semi-public sex.

Author's notes: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it ♡

"Hey, are you okay?"

Gi-hun looked up at you and you could see the stress written all over his face.

"Hey, you did really well with that umbrella shape. I was really impressed," you said, trying to ease his troubled mind.

Gi-hun gave you a small smile. "Thanks, y/n."

You sat down next to him and saw him swallow hard and flutter his eyes as he glanced down at your arm touching his. God, he was so damn cute and awkward. Ever since he had taken you in as part of his group, you'd had a crush on him. And you suspected he felt the same about you.

"Do you maybe...want to get out of here for a bit? Distract yourself from all the horrible shit going on here?"

Gi-hun looked at you in confusion. You just smiled and stood up.

"I'm going to the bathroom. Maybe you need to go too?"

Gi-hun watched with wide eyes as you went over to the door and knocked on it. A few seconds later, one of the guards opened, and after a few persuasive words about being on your period, the guard let you outside. Gi-hun licked his bottom lip and pondered what to do, if your words really meant what he thought they meant. At last, his curiosity got the better of him and he stood up.

"Oh, Gi-hun," you moaned and grabbed his shoulder for support as you rode his cock in a soft and gentle pace, reveling in the feeling of him inside you.

Gi-hun groaned softly and stared at you in awe, at the pleasured expression on your face as you bounced up and down on his dick. Fuck, you felt so good, his cock moving so easily in and out of your warm and wet pussy. He reached underneath your t-shirt, beneath your bra, and cupped your breast, softly kneading the soft flesh gently, feeling your nipple harden from his touch.

You opened your eyes, palmed his face as you leaned down and kissed him.

Gi-hun kissed you back with eagerness, his lips getting greedier with each buck of his hips. It had been such a long time since he felt the comforting warmth of a woman, so long since he let himself indulge in the world of pleasure.

It didn’t take many more moments for him to come, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips as he grunted when his cock twitched and pumped his load inside you.

You followed in his path, the feeling of his swelling cock inside you bringing you over the edge with him. Grinding your hips a final time, you came with a soft moan as his cock throbbed inside you.

You giggled as you slumped down on his lap, and Gi-hun chuckled softly while gently caressing your hip.

"This was nice," you said and suddenly felt very shy, sitting there with his cock slipping out of you, followed by the slow dripping of his cum.

"It was," Gi-hun replied with a soft smile, and you could see he was feeling just as shy as you.

"I think we need to hurry, I'm guessing the guard is standing outside waiting for us," you said and stood up.

"Oh, right!" Gi-hun rushed to his feet, blushed as he quickly pulled up his pants over his cock.

You giggled at his cuteness and grabbed some toilet paper, swiftly wiping his cum off your inner thighs.

"Maybe...." You bit your lip nervously. "Maybe, we can meet up when we get out of here? Go on a date?" you asked and looked at him hopefully.

Gi-hun looked at you in surprise and then smiled cutely. "I'd like that very much."

Years after, Gi-hun would still think fondly of that single moment the two of you shared together.

[esote-rika]

lose some, win some | Spencer Reid Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Category: Hurt/Comfort, Smut 18+, MDNI Summary: COLLEGE AU! When your debate team loses the national championship, you and Spencer return to your shared room and find a productive way to take out your frustrations. Content: Waldorf!Reader is a sore loser, lots of dialogue in the beginning, Sassy!Spencer, some talk of misogyny, Spencer makes up for it by being a munch (so f receiving oral), virgin!Spencer but he’s also a little shit, they are both little shits but it’s cute I swear, handjob, raw p in v but reader mentions she is on the pill, creampies, multiple orgasms for both of them (they’re frustrated and horny give them a break) Word count: 4.8k (it's porn with a plot for once) A/N: Not really frenemies or rivals, they’re just really angry young adults. Idk what Spencer’s actual age was in college, but he studied several times so for this fic, he’s on his third degree and is 21. If the debate stuff is incorrect, I'm sorry. I did do some research but there's so many different rules and styles lmfao. My friend who competes says it’s fine and understandable so :) also massive thanks to @just-call-me-by-yn @mggslover and @notlongtolove for helping me brainstorm and @wheresmacoffee because she was there JK  ILY ANDY their banter during the filthy part is for you <3.

Spencer Reid doesn’t particularly care about the prestige that comes with winning. Most people crave it for the validation, or because it’s another impressive thing they can slap onto their resumes, but being a genius his entire life allows him not to worry about that. His academics speak for themselves. He doesn’t need to pad it with extracurriculars. Instead, he enjoys the skills that are honed from debate—learning to listen to arguments, finding the perfect way to rebut, memorization and reviewing with like minded individuals. The university team is a well oiled machine composed of four people— him on his third degree, two other male juniors, and you, the only woman.

Over the span of two semesters, he’s memorized the quirks of his teammates. It’s essential to building rapport, after all, and he’s eager to get something good out of this. Something less academic, and more social. Friends, perhaps. While he’s formed a bond with the other members, you have always been an enigma. Stoic and ambitious, you remind him of a statue. Cold and oh so beautiful. You’ve often kept to yourself. And after several rejected attempts at friendship, he’s learned to just observe from afar.

He knows from experience that observing allows you deep insight into people, and so he knows after two semesters that you’re perhaps the most competitive out of the entire team, the most hungry for a win. This drive, he suspects, comes from a deeply rooted desire to prove yourself, though he’s unsure why. What else do you have to prove? You have everything, as far as he’s concerned. Keenly intelligent, beautiful, with a circle of friends that adore you. You aren’t like him, who has to sink his claws deep into this debate team in order to get a dose of social interaction. No, you have a life, no matter how marblesque you may seem.

And yet, somehow it’s still not enough for you.

He thinks it’s utterly ridiculous, and absolutely fascinating.

The weekend of nationals is taxing. You’ve been fighting for the opener role since the semis, but it would require too much adjustment, which no one is willing to risk so close to nationals. Not only does he not want to give up his spot, he also knows how ruthless you can be as a rebuttal speaker. He's meek, and you have a tendency to be aggressive, it's why the original roles go so well. 

Your adviser agreed, and there’s been tension ever since. 

To make matters worse, hotel arrangements somehow have placed both of you in the same room. The force of your resentment is palpable even to a normally clueless guy like him. Distracting. Pages being turned in your exaggerated annoyance. He’d complain of dramatics, but he doesn’t want to start anything. 

The fact that you’re rooming together also doesn’t help him. Sure, there are different beds, small twin mattresses on either side of the room, but still. Proximity to a woman his age has him anxious for reasons entirely unrelated to nationals. 

So when you lose the championship, his concern for your reaction behind doors overwhelms the regret of losing. 

No one is happy with the results. It is obvious from the set of his jaw, the tenseness of your shoulders. Spencer tries to calm down, accept defeat with a modicum of grace, at least in front of other people. He can tell the rest of the team is trying too, but quite unconvincingly. Onstage, accepting the medals for second place—mockingly silver, and no trophies—the team’s smiles are forced, plastic. 

Back to the hotel rooms are a different story. When you slam the hotel door shut, it echoes down the hall and makes even your debate adviser flinch. It would have made Spencer flinch too, if he hadn't already expected it. He's grown accustomed to how bad of a loser you can be. Like a tornado, your anger spares no one from its destruction. It is in these moments that your stoic resolve crumbles, no longer unfeeling, but rather fully human. Hurtful. Ruthless Unfortunately for him, he's directly in your line of fire.

He catches bits and pieces of your muttered diatribes. He’s used to those too. Normally, he would have ignored them. Losing sucks the energy out of a person, regardless of how uncompetitive he is. Besides, your ranting is mostly harmless, until one sentence snags his attention.

“— knew I should have been the opening speaker —”

He is clawing at his tie, trying desperately to get it off, but the words make him stop immediately. He whirls around, brows furrowed, “What?”

You pause as well, “What?”

“What did you say about being the opening speaker?” He watches you roll your eyes. It does nothing to calm the bitterness in the back of his throat. The normal song and dance goes like this: he’d say a string of words in an attempt to soothe the fire burning in your nerves, and you'd say something so vitriolic he'd refuse to speak to you for the rest of your time together. 

But today, having just lost the biggest championship after working so hard, he's a short fuse and your words are incendiary.

“I said I should have done it, like I asked—”

“Ah, as usual, you're mad that you didn't get what you wanted.” 

An offended scoff. He's almost proud he managed to pull that out of you. “You take too long—”

“Nationals isn't the time to suddenly alter the roles,” he tells you, shaking his head. He manages to loosen the tie, finally, tossing it on his bed with so much aggression it misses the mattress and lands limply on the floor, “I've always been the opening speaker.”

“Yes, and one would think that after going through so many debate competitions,  you would learn to be more succinct,” you snap, shoes making harsh clacks against the tiled floor, “The goal isn't to let us know you're the smartest person in the room, Spencer, it's to set up the tone and groundwork of—”

“I don't need you to lecture me about being the opening,” he interrupts, “I know what my role requires of me.”

“Do you?” Eyes flashing, you walk to him until you're almost chest to chest, “Because we still lost.”

“And you blaming me?” he hisses, leaning down. He hates doing this, stooping to your level of pettiness. Normally, he would choose to be the bigger person, refusing your verbal sparring; he likes to focus his energy on the actual debate, the opposing team, not his own teammates. But your words cut deeper than normal; it isn't the fault the team lost, that's just a flat out lie, “We advised you multiple times to memorize the statistics—”

“Something you're better at!” You look physically pained to admit his superiority, but the words spill anyway, “You'd be so much better to do the rebuttals since you have your stupid photographic memory, and I can set the tone better, but nobody on this little boys club ever listens to me!”

He's surprised at the choked tone your voice has taken. In his mind, you're a complete equal—you made it to the team through hard work and impeccable skills, like the rest of them did, after all. It didn't matter that you are a woman to him, so of course his instinct is to deny. “That’s not true.” but even his voice sounds weak. 

How would he know if it’s not true? He’s never been in your shoes before, never had to reckon with what comes with being the only woman in a team of men.

“Isn’t it?” he flinches at the venom in your voice, “You all act like I'm an afterthought—I get the shittiest positions even when I know I can be more effective in a different one, no one ever asks me for strategy, hell, you never invite me to your stupid chess games.”

His mouth opens and closes foolishly, latching on to the one thing he has a full response to, “I thought you hate chess.”

A sharp laugh, petulant and bitter, “I do, but it would have been nice to be included.”

He doesn’t know what to say. You’ve turned around, yanking off your pristine maroon blazer so roughly he’s afraid it might rip. The silence that grows makes him itch, hands balling into fists as he tries to think of what to do. Social dynamics have always been a thing of mystery to him. 

He wonders if he is part of this problem. He’s no stranger to feeling different and on the outs, and it pains him to think that he inadvertently caused someone else to feel that same, unpleasant exclusion.

But, no. Quickly, he recalls every single time he’s tried to include you—a museum trip that you’d declined because you had a party you wanted to attend. His extra tickets to the Nutcracker.

“That’s not true,” his voice is firm now, following you until he’s standing right behind. Lavender hits his nose and his brain registers the scent of your shampoo. Definitely too close if he can smell that, but he refuses to back away, intent on getting his point across, “That’s not true, I’ve tried to— you were always too busy.”

“What, I’m a liar now?” you spin around, pretty features twisted to somehow express both anger and hurt. He almost falters. Almost. 

But he’s too worked up, even though he knows he should back off, to not trivialize your experiences in order to defend himself. He should know better than this, but the sting of your accusation spurs him on. So he pushes, eyes narrowing, “Last year, September 14, 21, and 29, I invited you to come with us for several casual chess tournaments, you declined all invitations because you claimed you hated chess. October 29th, I told you about the new exhibit they were displaying—”

“It was Halloween weekend, I already had plans—”

“December 19th, I offered you Nutcracker tickets and you said you’d already seen it—”

“I have,” your voice has grown quiet now, and if he stops speaking for a single moment to look, your features have relaxed into something gentler. But he’s on a roll, and you have always been right about things; his inability to be succinct is one of them.

“Even this year, I invited you to study multiple times, but you’ve always had prior plans,” the words are spoken with neutrality. He isn’t even angry anymore, just eager to list everything down and let you know how hard he’s tried with you. Even after the numerous rejections, he’s made an effort, but of course, you have other friends, other plans outside your nerdy debate team. He’s never held that against you, but if you wanted to point fingers, he has the means to defend himself. And sure, he wants to prove you wrong on some level too, but that’s the lesser point. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re better than me, and just accepted, you wouldn’t be feeling so excluded.”

“I don’t act like I’m better than you.”

“You just said you would have made a better opening speaker.”

You scoff, “Oh my god, you’re infuriating, I can’t believe I’m stuck with you!”

Spencer bristles at that, “I’m giving you the facts, it’s not my fault you can’t handle them.” he says, leaning closer, trying to make her see his point, “You’re always so closed off and the other guys have just given up trying. Maybe if you—”

“What? If I smiled more? Acted less like a bitch?” you sneer, eyes narrowed dangerously, “I thought a genius like you would know better than to use misogynistic language like that.”

“Wha— no! Don’t put words in my mouth.” Spencer replies, shaking his head. The conversation is devolving into something dangerous, the air crackling with something electric. He assumes it’s anger. They will never get anywhere, so he sighs, softening slightly, “I never said that. I’m just pointing out that you weren’t blameless in this, you know?”

You’re silent. He watches you, takes in how the resentment in your eyes have been dulled by something more contemplative.

He continues, “Listen, I’m sorry if we’ve made you feel like you were on the outs. I’m sure we have to do so much reflection as a team and as individuals about how we treat each other, but it’s unfair to say that we never include you when I have actively been making efforts to—”

Your lips are upon him. 

That’s inaccurate. 

You are upon him, arms flung around his neck, body pressed flush against his. He feels the entire world tilt, and he’s unsure if it’s because you’re pulling him down or because your lips are so pillowy he’s instantly eager for more. Wants it like a man starved. Needs it, needs more, but his body betrays him. Whether it’s his inexperience or surprise or a combination of both. He freezes, blinking rapidly at the sight of you. Eyes shut, and face so close to him; so, so close he can count each individual eyelash, see the tiny freckle on your eyelid that gets hidden if your eyes are open.

And then you're gone. The freckle disappears as you look at him with wide eyed mortification. 

“Shit, Spencer, I—”

It’s his lips that cut you off this time, seeking out the velvety warmth of your mouth. Your lips part under his, and he registers a sound, soft and whining. It takes him a moment to realize it came from him, from the back of his throat and muffled by your lips and tongue and oh you’re both falling.

Literally. He must have leaned too far into you; you’re suddenly collapsing, forcing him down because your arms have him in a vice grip and he’s too busy chasing after your lips. The next thing he knows is he’s on top of you and you’re sprawled on the bed beneath him. Time stands still; he’s painfully aware of how cliche that is, but every sense of eloquence seems to have been expelled from his brain as he takes you in; lips swollen and wet from his kisses, pupils blown wide. Every breath you take pushes your chest up against his, and he can feel your heart thrumming against his body. 

“Well, that was one way of shutting you up,” you chuckle with a cockiness that makes his heart speed up, though it isn’t borne out of embarrassment. Every single physiological effect of your body is evidence that you’re enjoying this, telling him you’re just as worked up as he is. The breathiness in your voice, the quickness of your heartbeat. 

The fact that you’re pulling him down again, legs hooking around his hips. He surrenders to it, lips meeting yours once again, deeper and more desperate this time.

He closes his eyes, relishing this, kissing you, touching you, an act he had believed is reserved for attractive jocks and charismatic art nerds. Not him, quiet and lanky, shifting to avoid his angular bones from digging into you, and to place himself more comfortably on the bed. Inexperienced, ungainly, and yet here he is, his tongue pushing into your mouth in his first forays into something that his peers have experienced years ago.

Spencer Reid isn’t used to being the one behind, doing the catching up. Child prodigy, genius, the words aren’t meaningless. He’s been ahead academically—which, up until this point, has been his whole life. But feeling warm lips beneath his own has him reconsidering some of his life choices. 

The kiss is messy. Sloppy from his clumsy attempts to keep up with your eagerness. You’re tugging at something, and he realizes it’s to untuck the rest of the crisp shirt you’ve donned for the debate tournament out from your skirt. His hands settle on your waist, finding smooth, heated skin from where your shirt has ridden up. Careful fingers help push it up, burying under the fabric until his palms are mapping out the slopes of your body. 

Soft. So damn soft. 

Not cold marble after all. He theorizes you must be soft everywhere, and he decides to test it out with his lips, laving kisses along your jaw, down the sweet, musky skin of your neck where your perfume still lingers. Instincts take over and he allows himself a taste, tongue darting out. You shudder, so he does it again, greedy for your pretty moans and gasps. 

He can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips, “Thought you were mad at me?” he mumbles, trailing his kisses down the column of your throat. 

You’re all mhms and ohhhs right now, so far from the usual image you present to the world, a preppy, manicured woman who wrestles for control over everything. You must hate this, he thinks, being beneath him physically, caged within his arms which are deceptively strong for how fragile he looks. 

“Shut up,” you grumble.

“Make me.” His grin is dopey when he lifts his head to meet her gaze.

Something brushes against his crotch, and now he’s the one gasping, jerking in surprise at the friction. You’ve slotted your thigh between his, and his traitorous body responds by grinding down on it shamelessly. The look on your face is smug, triumphant.

“Huh,” saccharine and mocking, you blink up at him innocently, “That was easier than I thought.”

His head drops to your neck again, but he isn’t kissing you anymore. Just open mouthed breathing as he rubs himself on your thigh, hands tightening on your sides, “Mhm.”

“Are you gonna come? Spencer, I haven’t even touched you yet.”

He sinks his teeth into your flesh to fight the needy whines because yes, he’s so embarrassingly close and you’re both still fully dressed. He hears a hiss, and he backs off immediately, murmuring apologies, “Didn’t mean to—”

“‘S okay,” you tilt your head back, give him more access to your neck, “Just don’t leave marks.”

Permission to bite. He gulps, heart beating wildly, before ducking back down. Chapped lips run over your neck, finding a soft spot to bite, forcing himself to soften the way his teeth sink into your skin. All the while rubbing himself on your thigh because it’s probably the closest thing to heaven a man such as him will ever experience. 

He hears your laughter, your mocking cooes of, “You’re so fucking needy” but he can’t bring himself to care.

You’re correct, he decides, as you usually are. He’s needy, desperately so, eagerly chasing the delicious pleasure of dry humping your thigh. 

“Hold on, Spencer.”

You push him back gently. A whine rips from his throat, “Mhm—why?”

He gets his answer soon enough. Your hands undo his belt and he swears this sets his whole body on fire. Nobody’s ever seen him like this. Never has another person touched him so intimately, seen him so out of control, so brainless. He’s babbling incoherently as your hand strokes up and down his length, his hips rutting into your hand. It’s out of sync. Two dancers on entirely different rhythms.

Your laughter rings in his ears, one hand tangled in his hair as the other does unspeakable, tantalizing things to his aching cock. 

“Mhm, can’t— I’m gonna—” and he’s spilling into your hand, hot, viscous liquid overflowing from your hand and staining your skirt, “Ah, shit.”

He collapses against you, head on the crook of your shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. “‘M sorry, I’ll– I’ll pay for your dry cleaning.”

Your chest shakes as you laugh, “Would you? I think you owe me more than that.” The heat in your voice makes his breath catch in his throat.

Soft kisses press upon your neck as he gathers his thoughts, willing his brain to work again. Anatomy, female anatomy. Female pleasure. What does he know about this? A lot, surprisingly, though mostly from books. Mostly in theory, but that’s a start. He can put them to practice right now. His hands drag down your sides until they catch the waistband of your skirt. “May I?”

“Okay.”

He pulls gently, exposing the rest of your thighs and legs. Honey brown eyes devour the expanse of your skin, hands clutching at the softness. He marvels at the way your flesh accepts his own, bright red splotches imprinted from his fingertips.   

He thinks of poetry, the uncountable amount of words and phrases written to immortalize women and love and sex, and he finds himself wishing he has the skill to compose something as beautiful, something worthy of you right now, radiant and half naked and somehow all his. 

But he is no poet, so he touches his lips upon your body instead. Pretty words will escape him, but his lips can speak even without them, he’ll make sure of it. He kisses down your abdomen, making sure to pay attention to every hidden freckle and birthmark he comes across. Your reactions make him feel drunk, to the point of affecting him physically. Messier kisses. Hands tugging and nearly ripping the lace of your panties because he’s unaware of his own strength. 

“So pretty,” he mumbles, “So pretty.” It’s all he can repeat, but then his tongue lands on your slick heat and suddenly words are forgotten in favor of vague groaning. Because how can he accurately describe the sensation of this? Tasting you. God how has he gone so long without this? Your nails scraping his scalp, his fingers sinking into your thighs as he keeps you still. He’s halfway off the bed, legs dangling off the edge, your thighs squeezing his face. 

There’s nowhere else he would rather be. 

He laps at your folds like a mad man, tongue pressed flat and dragging up slowly to get as much of you in his mouth as possible. His feet find the floor, allowing himself more stability to once again rub his growing erection against a solid object. The poor mattress is going to be ruined once they’re done.

“Faster,” you gasp, jerking your hips into his face, “Spencer— oh, yeah like that!”

Spencer Reid is a quick study, and when he hears the positive reactions, he doubles down until he feels you convulse against his tongue. You jerk so violently he has to hold you down. He pushes his tongue past your entrance experimentally, and feels you tug roughly on his hair in response, gasping his name and God’s name in slurred phrases as you ride out your high.

It’s the hottest damn thing he’s ever experienced.

 “Jesus Christ,” you gasp, and he has to repeat that ridiculous sentence again, because it’s true and he feels you deserve it.

“You’re so pretty.” He fears you might be some kind of magnet, because his lips keep getting drawn back to your skin. He lets his kisses travel up your hip bone, before grinning up at you, “Even when you’re being insufferable, you’re still so beautiful.”

“Gee thanks,” you huff, pulling at his arm, “How romantic, I’m swooning.”

“Might not be swooning, but you did just come on my face.” brilliant rows of teeth flash at you as he smiles smugly.

“Asshole.”

“Is that how you say thank you?” he drags his body up lazily, draping himself over you.

“I’m not— wait, are you hard again?”

“Uh…”

“Needy, needy boy.” you pull him down to you, and he almost protests, his chin and mouth still covered with your slick. But you don’t seem to care, so he follows your lead, God at this point he would follow you anywhere at all. You’re shifting beneath him, and the next thing he knows is your legs are wrapped around his waist again, your heat completely exposed and pressing against his cock.

“Mhm,” he pulls back, eyes wide, “I—”

“What?” you whisper, lifting your head to continue giving him kisses, teeth playfully nipping at his jaw, “It’s fine, I’m on birth control.”

“It’s not that,” he can’t deny you, his body relaxing back down over you. His lips catch yours for a moment, slow and achingly tender, “I’ve just never really done this before.”

He waits for the inevitable laughter. Here he is, at 21, and somehow still the same person he had been when he first entered college at 14. But you continue to look at him with heavy lids, breathless and flushed. 

“Okay,” your voice is kind, sweet, “Take it slow then.” your hand wraps around his length again, the movement slower this time, as you align him to your entrance. He hisses as the sensitive tip grazes against your folds, as he feels your entrance slowly give way to him and envelop his cock. 

“Oh,” he sighs. With your help, he sinks halfway into you, one hand gripping your hip, the other bracing himself on his elbow. Eyes squeezed shut, he stills and manages to ask, “Are you okay?”

You don’t speak, and so he forces his eyes to focus and look at you. The sight has him twitching inside you. Mouth agape and eyes hazy, you’re nodding up at him wordlessly as your hips rock up into his. “More.”

It’s exhilarating. He’s known you for the past year, worked alongside you but respected your need for distance. And now, here you are, not merely close, but one. Spencer sighs, and thrusts shallowly, eyes zeroed in on you and your reactions. He doesn’t want to hurt you, doesn’t want it to end too soon, so he moves slowly, dragging out his cock until only the tip rests inside you, then sliding into the hilt.

It elicits the most mellifluous sounds from you, making him smile in relief. He lets his forehead rest against yours, thrusts growing more confident, but still in that slow, almost dreamy pace. He memorizes every detail of this moment, from the way your eyes flutter closed, to the quiver of your legs as they wrap tighter around his thighs. 

“So good,” he hears himself say, “God, you feel so good.”

“Mhm,” you nod, nails digging into his back, even through his clothes. In the heat of the moment, you’re both still half dressed, only getting rid of your bottom clothes in order to get what you need from each other, “More, Spencer, I need more.”

He nods, letting his thrusts grow faster, rougher. It’s an awkward angle, he’s afraid his knees will start cramping, but the feeling of being surrounded by your warmth, drowning in your moans has him reckless. “There?” he grunts, angling just so, and he can’t help the smirk on his face when he feels your walls clenching around him.

“There, there, yes!”

He’s not sure how he manages to last as long as he does. Maybe it’s the sheer desire to feel you fall apart, for his cock to be drenched in your slick that keeps his release at bay. Maybe he has too much pent up sexual energy that’s just been dying to come out. Whatever it is, he’s thankful for it, because it means he’s spending more time inside you, hips moving with so much impact he’s pushing you forward with each thrust. 

“Yes, just like that.” you’re shuddering beneath him, and he moves his arm to the top of your head, creating a barrier between you and the headboard so you don’t hit it. He could stop, readjust your positions, but he doesn’t have it in him. 

No, he wants to stay inside you, forever if there’s an anatomically feasible way to do it. But unless he invents it, he’ll settle for right now, settle for the heat between your bodies, and how you’re practically melting into the mattress, arching so prettily against him.

“You close?” he murmurs, one hand finding your clit, drawing gentle circles with his fingertips.

“No fair,” you whine, bucking into him, “That’s cheat— Spencer!” 

You come undone in the most enthralling way, eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip bitten by your own lips. You squeeze and flutter around him, and he’s helpless to stop his own release, spilling deep inside you with a broken cry from his own mouth. Your name is whispered, over and over again, until he stills, his vision blurry as he collapses against you.

He curls around you, trying to get as close, “You—that was—wow.” 

You giggle, still breathless and glassy eyed, “Are you sure that was your first time?”

“Yes,” he gives you a series of kisses along your temple, “Yes, it was. You—wow.” he carefully pulls out of you, hissing quietly when the cool air conditioned air hits his sensitive flesh. “Was that enough of an apology for not including you to our chess nights?”

“You’re making jokes now?”

“No,” he smiles, leaning away to look at you, all starry eyed and boneless, “Not a joke. Because if it’s not enough, I can do it again.” a kiss to your cheek, “And again.” one on the tip of your nose, “And again.”

When you laugh in response, he cups your cheek, “I mean it.” he says with all the seriousness he can muster.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept my invitations now?” he lights up, a large smile splitting his face.

“Only if it’s a date.”

"Then it's a date."

[moonstruckme]

I have no way of expressing this ask more than this. I crave for someone being so whipped and in love with me that they would do anything (walk him like a dog sis) and I know you've already written some things like that but I beg of you to write more. Sorry I'm on my period rn and I want some Marauders fluff, maybe the fic be about period comfort? Idk, sorry if that makes no sense, have a good week 😭🙏 Dealers choice on Poly, James, sirius, or Remus (I don't currently have emojis but its the cake anon)

I hope this was along the lines of what you wanted? Ngl lovely since the request seemed basically just for fluff and comfort I treated it like a free space on a bingo card so thank you!

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 997 words

The sound of your door opening makes your back tense enough that you nearly gasp in pain. 

“Hello?”

“Just me,” your boyfriend says, voice coming towards your bedroom. 

“Oh.” Relief and affection are unmissable in your tone though you try to seem less eager. “What are you doing here?”

James is frowny as he comes in. A sad little pucker to his lips as he takes in the sight of you stomach-down on the bed, taut and motionless with your head turned to the side to see him. You find your own self-pity intensifying under his concerned gaze. 

“You said you were hurt,” he says. 

“I didn’t say that.” 

James gives you a fond look, dropping his duffel bag on the floor and taking his phone from his pocket. “Woke up with my back all funny,” he reads aloud from your texts. “Can’t move, won’t make it to the gym sorry.” He tsks, squatting beside your face. You watch the flex of his quads with a reverence you’ve only recently stopped being embarrassed of. “You spelled can’t without the apostrophe. That was the really scary part.” You wince, and James cracks a smile, kissing you. “How badly does it hurt?” 

“It’s not that it hurts very much,” you say, pushing out your bottom lip a little in the hopes he kisses you again. “It’s just surprising.” 

James takes the bait, pressing his lips gently to yours before pulling away again. “Surprising?” he repeats. 

“Yeah. Like, you know when you get shocked by a door handle or something and your whole body seizes up? It’s like that, but only when I move.” 

“That doesn’t sound very nice either,” he murmurs, eyes tracing the curve of your back where it disappears under your bedcovers. You take the opportunity to trace the line of his jaw with yours. “Can I have a look?” 

“A look at what?” you ask. “It’s in my back, Jamie, it’s not really something you can see.” 

“I know, just…” He starts crawling onto your bed, mindful of not making the mattress shift underneath you. “Can I?” 

You bite the inside of your lip. Your wariness is evident in your tone. “Sure.” 

James brushes a hand over your hip in thanks. He moves slow, settling with his knees straddling your legs and untucking the sheets from around you carefully. You trust him, but it’s hard not to go rigid as he pulls your sleep shirt up above your waist, feeling somehow more exposed for your incapacity of movement. 

He hums. “It doesn’t look inflamed.” 

“Told you.” 

“You told me,” James agrees, sounding amused. “I just thought if it was a muscle thing, it’d be swollen or something. Where does it feel like it’s coming from?” 

He lays his hand, ever so gently, on your lower back, and you gasp. 

He takes it away instantly. “Shit, sorry. I’m sorry, angel, that hurt?” 

“It’s fine.” You force yourself to breathe past the pain. “It just surprised me.” 

“It can surprise you and hurt at the same time,” James says, remorseful. “I’m sorry. If I…if I warn you that I’m going to touch you, do you think that’ll be better?” 

Just the prospect makes you feel tense. “Maybe,” you hedge. 

“Okay. I’m gonna rest my hand here, but I’m not gonna push. Relax, sweetheart.” 

He’s right. This time, his touch is enough to make the muscles of your back tighten but not scream at you. James waits a beat to make sure you’re okay before drawing his hand up and down your spine. 

It hurts less and less as he goes. James’ palm emanates a warmth that’s more soothing than the cocoon of your bedcovers from before. You’re safe so long as he’s looking after you. 

“It’s here?” he asks, palm settling between your hips. “That’s where it hurts the most?”

“I think so,” you say. “It’s hard to tell.” 

“That’s where you seem the most strung up,” he murmurs, rubbing from side to side. His pressure increases very slightly as he feels for the cause of your hurt. “Do you have a chiropractor you like?” 

“No.” Your voice turns wary. “I’ve never needed one.” 

“I know one who I think is pretty good,” James says conversationally. 

“I don’t want to go to a chiropractor. I can’t even sit up.” 

“That’s something he might be able to help with, lovely.” James’ palm soothes over your bare skin. “But okay. We can talk more about that later, let’s just focus on making you feel better for now. I think half the pain is from how nervous you are. It might get better if you’re able to relax.” 

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to not be nervous when it keeps hurting,” you mumble. 

“We’ll loosen you up,” James says certainly. “We’ve got all day.” 

You frown, turning your head to look at him before lightning bolts shoot down your spine. James makes a soft, chiding sound, rubbing your taut muscles. 

“You’re planning to stay here all day?” you ask. 

“Well, I hope it doesn’t actually take all day to get you relaxed enough to sit up,” he says, “but yeah.” 

“Don’t you have other things to do?”

“This is what I’m doing now,” James replies easily. “I’m staying here with you.” 

“Oh.” You want to argue with him. Part of you feels like you should, wave him off, say I’ve got it, actually, but maybe you’re just needy. Your voice softens with apology. “Thanks.” 

“Come on,” says James, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck. “Of course, sweetheart. What else am I here for?” 

“You mean, other than to look good?” you tease him. 

You can hear his smile in his voice. “You did really miss out at the gym today. I was going to do arms.” 

“Now I’m extra sorry my back decided to mutiny.” 

“Hey, if it’ll help you relax to watch me do push-ups on your floor, just say the word. I’ll try whatever works.” 

[daenysx]

literally on my knees for drummer!James, idk if it counts but if it does I would love it !!!

-send me drabble requests!

drummer!james potter x fem!reader, a bit suggestive

"Do you think you'd let me bite your biceps?" you ask James, the world slowly settling down in your eyes. "I promise I'll be gentle."

He laughs so bright, you can't help a stupid smile forming on your lips. He holds your waist to keep you steady, wavy hair falling on his forehead, and his arms fully on display.

"Who are you and what have you done to my girlfriend?" he asks, laughs again when you lift your head for a kiss.

"I'm not drunk," you say. "But your arms-"

You're not drunk, that's true. James would say you're slightly tipsy after a few cocktails you had as you watched their band play. His eyes followed you even when he had to pay attention to playing, he was flirting relentlessly with you and his drums. You remember getting yourself another drink because suddenly everything around you felt hotter.

"Come here," he tells you, gets you into a somewhat emptier corner in the bar. You see Sirius shouting at something behind, Remus is there too, they laugh and you turn back to your boyfriend. Gorgeous boy with a gorgeous face. James Potter has been blessed by divine beings, he helps you sit down on a bar stool and you hold onto his arms. His arms.

"What were you thinking when you put this shirt on tonight?" you ask. "Because it's like you're trying to give me a heart attack."

He steals a quick kiss from your lips. You taste like something sweet, your lip gloss got messed up, and you're eager for another kiss. Your fingers squeeze his arms and you let out a soft noise. You're really glad for being tipsy, it gives you new ways to be courageous.

"You played so good," you tell him. Your lovesick eyes, he loves looking at them. He fixes the smudged mascara with his thumb. "But you know that already."

"Always nice to hear," James says. He knows it's time for silent confessions of love in the crowded bar, an invisible bubble around both of you as he gets praised by his lover girl. "I played for you. Got this shirt on for you. I even practiced extra to look at you without making a mistake on the stage."

"You did?"

"Yeah," he murmurs against your lips. "I love when I get to see my girl admire me. Your eyes get all wide and you keep squirming in your seat, did you notice?"

"James-"

Your words are silenced as he presses his lips on yours in a proper kiss. His fingers are tired, he keeps them on your neck as the cute top you wear exposes your skin to him. He needs a drink, maybe you'd want one more, too. James thinks he lives for that admiring looks you give him, your gentle praises and smiles, your greedy hands on his arms.

You break the kiss and take a deep breath. He looks sinful, but still your boy under all this drummer persona. He just carries it so well, a new part of him, you like seeing him embrace something he loves. The band will do better in time. You know you'll always be in front of the stage to watch them play like they were born for this.

"The shirt is a good choice," you manage to say. "If I didn't make that obvious enough."

James smiles. You want to pinch his cheeks and play with his hair.

"I'm loving this new side of you, angel," he says. "Gonna look for more shirt options, see if I can find something more revealing on the arms."

You let him have fun with the new knowledge he has on you. He deserves it after being so good on the stage.

[crntion]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆f*** it i love you⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

✦ pairing ; jason todd x fem!reader ✦ synopsis ; jason has always avoided his girlfriend when coming in from patrol shifts. there seems to be a reason and she is determined to make him crack. ✦ wc ; 1.4k ✦ a/n ; i think i saw something similar to this a few days ago (either that or i dreamt it idk) so pls lmk if u know the author!!! anyway this is my first published work since 6th grade so i'm freaking, anyway... slight hurt/comfort(?) idk im not good at this. not proof read! — 🎧 !! Fuck it I love you - Lana Del Rey

it was dawn. the sun was ever so slightly peeking over the horizon, and slowly filling the streets of gotham. all jason could do was watch from the fire escape of his girlfriend’s apartment, savoring the peaceful moment after the previous night of patrol. once the sun got unbearably bright, jason reached towards the window he usually took inside before noticing his battered and bruised hand.

he made a habit out of immediately cleaning up when visiting her, refusing to let her look at him a second before. he believed that the mere sight of his sins as red hood would frighten her, and who would want to continue a relationship with such a violent man? due to his intense fears of scaring her away, he always came when he knew she’d be asleep.

jason was dragged away from his thoughts when he looked past his hand, noticing the empty bed in the apartment in front of him. he felt uneasy–she was never awake at this time so where could she be? he racked his brain thinking about a reason for her absence, but his mind came up blank.

he quickly opened the window and let himself into her room, praying his greatest fears weren’t physically manifesting before him. that was–until the smell of muffins filled his senses. his curiosity pulled him into the kitchen, where she sat on the counter with a notepad shoved into her face.

jason knew there wasn’t a way of escaping without her noticing him–he was backed into a corner by someone who didn’t even realize it. he discarded his mask on the ground. he decided he was going to mutter a quick hello followed by her name before he turned towards the bathroom. 

with his back facing her, he couldn’t see her face but he knew it had lit up. “jay! i was wondering when you’d get home.” he heard her set down the notepad, which he assumed had the muffin recipe on it.

he didn’t take another step before turning around. of course he missed her, if it was any normal morning he would’ve scooped her up in his arms before dragging her back to bed–but this was anything but normal. her name softly left his lips before he gave her a smile, “...what are you doing up right now babe?”

as if she was eager to tell him, she scooted off the counter before going to grab his hand. he felt dirty–he shouldn’t be touching her in the state he was in, but he knew how much it would hurt her if he pulled away. he let his fingers wrap lightly around hers, afraid his touch would be too rough as she pulled him over to the muffins. “alfred invited me over to wayne manor the other day to make pastries. i spent all night thinking about the muffins, and i wanted to give them a try.”

she didn’t notice the lack of touch from her boyfriend as they both squatted down to look inside, “plus i didn’t get to see you last night. i planned on being back before you left for patrol but my boss held me up for a little longer than expected… i couldn’t sleep without seeing you.”

he couldn’t help but stare at her, she knew exactly how to reassure him without even trying. she knew him so well–or at least as well as he allowed. he removed his eyes from her, scared his gaze would taint her.

“i’m gonna go wash up.”, his voice came out shakier than expected as he stood up, which didn’t go unnoticed. 

he watched as she quickly stood up with him, “jay, is everything alright?”, her hand reached out to touch his upper arm and he ever so slightly pulled away. he watched as the worry grew in her eyes, but he just couldn’t risk tarnishing her.

“i’m fine, i just need to go clean up.”, his voice now came out harsher than intended and he immediately regretted it. yet, he couldn’t help but turn away and continue his path to the bathroom.

the more steps he took the more he wish he would just turn around and pull her into a hug, to reassure her it wasn’t her–but him. he was now scared that his fears had ruined everything, until he heard her steps quicken.

in an instant, she was in front of him and he was struggling to meet her gaze, “jason peter todd, look at me.”, he now fought her eyes even harder until she grabbed him by the chin to make eye contact, “what is wrong? you literally will not be able to get rid of me until we talk about whatever it is you’re feeling.”

she was searching his eyes for anything at this point, hoping they’d begin to mirror his emotions. only when her eyes began to soften did he speak, “i don’t want to ruin you.”.

her eyebrows furrowed as the grip on his chin faltered. a million thoughts raced through her head but his words kept echoing, ‘i don’t want to ruin you…’. her hand made its way down to his chest, feeling his intense heartbeat. “...ruin me? what makes you think you’re doing that jay?”

he didn’t know how to explain it, he didn’t even know if she’d understand, “i’m too… violent for you. i’m not a good person, no matter how hard i try. i’m filled with hate and vengeance, and i have no sense of when to quit… i don’t want you to see me like this, like him.”, she followed her gaze to his mask which was carelessly placed on the floor. 

“jay… i know who you are. i’ve known who you are for all these years. whether you’re jason todd or you’re red hood, i love you for you.”, she softly traced the symbol on his chest, “i know exactly what you do when you go out on patrol, and it doesn’t scare me.”.

she slightly laughed, “any normal person would be scared, but with us it is anything but normal. i know what you do and i know why you do it, i would never want to take that away from you because it’s who you are.”, she slowly reached up to his face before tracing the most prominent scar on his cheek, the one he hated the most.

he shivered at her touch, “but why?”.

she smiled at him, “because as long as it’s you under that mask, i couldn’t hate any part of it. what you do is noble jay, even if you have pretty extreme means of getting it done…but you don’t just do it for yourself, you do it to keep others safe.”

all he could do is just stare into her eyes, admiring the gorgeous hues that allow him to see into her soul–to see that she’s telling the truth. all he could muster out of his lips was her name, barely a whisper. he leaned in to pull her closer before they heard a distant alarm.

“muffins are done!”, she pushed away from the ever so yearning jason todd and pranced over to the oven, “hurry jay, come wash your hands.”, she said while pulling the tray out.

he slowly walked over to the sink and began to wash his hands before a smaller hand held an extremely hot muffin to his face, signaling for him to take a bite. once he complied, the muffin disappeared and his girlfriend replaced the void, “how is it?”.

it took jason a second to answer, as much as it hurt he chewed and swallowed the hot pastry in the bat of an eye, “besides burning the inside of my mouth, it’s amazing. definitely alfred’s recipe.”

she smiled before resting her head against his arm, “well speaking of wayne manor… if you see bruce don’t let him know i basically gave you the ‘ok’ on the killing n’ stuff. when alfred invited me over he pulled me aside and basically tried to convince me to talk you out of it and i said i’d try.”, she let out a little giggle while telling jason.

jason laughed while turning off the water and drying his hands. “well naturally, it is B afterall.”, jason felt two smaller arms wrap around his right arm and finally, felt at peace–until they quickly pulled away. “what’s wrong?”, he said while looking down.

the girl basically shoved her red stained hand in his face, “please tell me this is yours and not some random thugs.”

jason ruffled her hair before grabbing her hand, “how about you come with me and find out?”, he said while pulling her to the bathroom, “after all i might need someone to patch me up.”

[bambi-lamb]

over the phone

Summary: Ever since Wanda left for a routine work trip, things have felt off—even compared to previous trips. Things come to a head one day and you can't help but ring her up. Just to talk... well, at first anyway.

Tags: wanda maximoff x f!reader, 18+, smut, edging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, phone sex, dacryphilia, mommy kink, nipple play (is that a tag idk), implied sadomasochism (just a lil bit), remote vibrator, fingering

WC: 3,165

A/N: i know the tags are a little crazier than usual... and the length is double what i normally have. i don't know what happened— hopefully someone is into this though

"Detka? Are you there?"

The phone speaker crackles in the following silence, breaking you out of your stupor.

"Sorry, Wanda. I'm here."

She hums softly on the other side of the line, sounding amused.

"So, why did you call me, sweetheart?"

The honey-sweet words trickle into your ears and you sigh, leaning back against the headboard and fidgeting restlessly with the edge of the duvet.

"Just missed you. Wanted to hear your voice," you respond quietly, hoping that the phone catches it.

Evidently, you're not entirely successful.

"Hmm? Say that again, baby?"

You slump down against the pillow, sliding underneath the covers and turning to the side. The phone finds its way between your hands, still on speaker, and you cradle it closer to your face, staring unblinking at the caller ID screen as you repeat yourself.

Wanda chuckles softly, and the phone slides out of your loose grasp. You melt into the mattress before reaching out to readjust the phone until it's in place again.

"I missed you too, detka. What have you been up to today?"

You hum softly, squeezing a second pillow between your arms as you think over your response.

"Not much. I went out and bought groceries. Nothing special. Everything feels so stale without you here," you lament.

A soft huff of breath crackles through the speakers.

"I'll be back soon, detka. I'm only here for one more day, I promise."

You sigh and turn onto your back again, hugging the pillow tighter.

"I just miss you so much."

"I know, sweetheart, I know."

The soft warmth spreading in your chest is all-too-eager to branch as far as it can go, and a low ache settles at the bottom of your stomach. Wanda's voice has always been a weak spot for you, and even through crackling phone speakers that hasn't changed.

"Miss you in all the ways," you murmur, suddenly overwhelmed by the intensity of your need.

Wanda coos softly, but doesn't say anything further. As her raspy voice echoes through the speaker, tears spring to your eyes. It hurts to miss someone this much. You've never had much issue with Wanda leaving before. It's not like you don't understand that she's busy.

But for some reason, this time has felt different from all the others. Your everyday life feels emptier, hollow, surreal. Without Wanda to anchor you down, you feel like you're a phantom, coasting on muscle memory to get through the day until you can get in bed and dream of green eyes.

"Wish you could just come home already," you whine, trying to tamp down your rising emotions.

"Detka," Wanda murmurs. "It's okay. I'm here. Stay with me, okay? Mommy's here."

You battle with your conflicting desires, desperation and desire coursing through your veins in equal measure. You flip back onto your side again, clutching the phone like a lifeline, thumbs pressed into the screen as if that will somehow bring you closer to Wanda.

"Mommy," you whisper back, taking solace in the title as your breathing evens out again.

"Yes, sweetheart. I'm here," Wanda reassures.

Lust roars to life suddenly and you squeeze your thighs together, mind blank as Wanda's soft voice washes over you.

"Mommy," you whisper again, heavier this time, weighted down by desire.

"My baby," she murmurs in response, low and firm.

"Need you. Please." You've been reduced to short phrases already, finally letting your mind take a backseat and just letting yourself feel.

"What do you need from mommy, detka?"

"Want mommy, please. Want to hear— want…" you can't find the right words, overwhelmed by just how much you need Wanda in this moment. You just need her, need to anchor yourself.

Luckily, Wanda understands what you're asking for all too well.

"You want mommy to tell you what to do? Is that it, detka?"

You nod limply, before realizing Wanda can't see you.

"Mhmm," you hum into the screen instead, fingers still digging into the phone case as you pull it even closer.

"How badly do you need it, sweetheart?"

Wanda's voice is teasing, and you can hear shuffling on the other side of the line then the click of a door locking.

"Need you so bad, please mommy." The words tumble out in a rushed mess, but at this point you can hardly bear to think of this phone call ending in anything other than an orgasm.

Wanda chuckles again.

"You're so lovely for me, detka. So needy. So sweet. You know what mommy would do to you if she could be there with you?"

You shiver, pillow long-forgotten as you clutch the phone between your fingers.

"I would take it so slow, sweetheart. Draw it out a little bit, just tug down the top of your shirt and play with your pretty little nipples until you're squirming and crying."

Wanda sounds delighted; you can hear the smile in her voice as she describes how she would touch you.

"Just softly at first, only the best for my baby. I'd use my mouth and tongue, and then when you're squirming for more, mommy would use her fingers to pinch and squeeze and roll. The way you like it, baby," she hums, and you shiver again.

"Can you do that for mommy, sweetheart? Can you pinch your pretty nipples for her?"

You whine high in your throat, listening to the way Wanda laughs softly through the phone.

"Mommy," you whimper, tugging your tank top down and setting down the phone next to your head. You know exactly what Wanda means, and you pinch and squeeze, rolling your own nipples roughly between the pads of your fingers, the way you know Wanda always does, the way you like it.

"Oh god, mommy—" the moan gets caught in the back of your throat, coming out choked as bolts of white-hot electricity course up your spine.

"You're doing so good for me, detka," she coos, and you sob desperately, already overwhelmed.

"Just keep it up for me, sweetheart. I want to hear you cry."

You acquiesce obediently, squeezing your nipples until they're swelling, reddened by the abuse, until you can feel tears welling up and spilling over. Wanda keeps whispering soft encouragements through the speaker even as you pant and moan, broken only by soft sobbing and crying.

It never surprised you, but you're sure anyone else in the neighborhood who knows Wanda would be startled to discover her sadistic streak. She's always liked seeing you cry, and it only helps that you like it when she makes you hurt—when she tears you apart and builds you back up again.

"Mommy," you whimper again, a broken noise that makes Wanda moan softly on the other end of the line.

"Oh, detka, you sound so pretty," she coos, enjoyment sparkling in her voice.

"Please," you beg, shivering and shaking with every new jolt of sensation.

"Mmh, good girl," she murmurs. "You can stop now, just for a little bit."

You moan with relief as you're finally given permission to pull your hands away from your chest.

"And then mommy would touch you lower, wouldn't she? You know how mommy likes you, baby. Legs tucked up against your chest so you're nice and open for mommy. Go ahead, sweetheart, why don't you start now, hm?"

You pant softly as your pull your own legs up and apart, kicking off the duvet and whimpering when cold air meets your sticky cunt.

"Mommy would start slow, just keep you spread open with her fingers, and just watch. Wait until you're squirming and wiggling before she touches you. Just keep yourself open, baby, you can listen to how mommy wants to touch you first. No touching yet."

You hum and abide by her rules, reaching down only to spread yourself even further apart, shivering as you imagine Wanda's lazer-sharp gaze on your spread cunt.

"And then mommy would touch you so softly, just gently rub with her fingers where you're nice and open for mommy. Never inside, just right outside, where your pretty cunt opens up for mommy."

You shiver as you imagine the sensation, all-too-familiar with how it feels.

"Do you think you could ever come like that, baby? With mommy's mouth on your nipples and her fingers rubbing your cunt just like that?"

Wanda moans softly at her own words, and you whimper loudly into the speaker. It sounds torturous and delicious all in the same.

"Hmm, maybe once mommy gets home," she murmurs. "How's my detka feeling now, hm? Are you being a good girl? You're not touching yourself, are you?"

Her words are edged with danger.

"No, mommy. I'm being good. Not touching myself. Keeping myself spread open with my fingers, just like mommy would," you profess earnestly.

Wanda hums thoughtfully.

"You wouldn't lie to me, would you baby?"

"Promise I'm being honest, mommy."

Wanda coos softly, reassured.

"Good girl, detka."

You moan softly in the back of your throat. Without realizing it, you've started rocking your hips against the empty air, searching for more stimulation.

"Now where were we? Ah, right, mommy would rub your pretty cunt until you're crying again, and then keep rubbing. Just until she's satisfied. You'd have to be a good girl and beg for more. Beg for mommy's fingers."

"Please," you moan. "Please, mommy, please." Mindless even though you haven't even begun to touch yourself.

"You can touch yourself now, baby," she coos gently. "Just like mommy said, okay? Don't go inside just yet. Just outside. Nice and soft."

You agree quietly, letting go of where you're stretching yourself open to reach down further. You take your index and middle fingers and begin to rub in careful circles, moaning at the touch.

You've heard about this before, know just how many nerve endings exist in just this region, and it feels like you're on fire. Desperation seizes you. You want more. You want so badly to feel full, to come already, but Wanda hasn't given you permission to do anything beyond this, and you're nothing if not a good girl for her.

"Good girl," Wanda hums, and then continues to describe more, dropping her voice torturously low as she paints new visuals through the speaker.

"And then mommy would press inside, so so slow, bit by bit until you're all filled up. But as soon as mommy's inside, she'd pull right back out, all the way. Rub your pretty little clit with those same fingers until you're crying again, so close, and then stop. Once you're calmed down, mommy would do it again, and again, and again. Over and over."

"Mommy," you sob desperately. "Mommy, please."

Wanda hums softly, but doesn't acknowledge your pleas.

"You don't have to do it so many times tonight, baby. Just a couple. Just so mommy can hear you cry again. And then mommy wants you to go get your vibrator. Mommy will make you come like that, okay?"

You shiver and gasp as you continue to work yourself up.

"Yes, mommy. Please, mommy."

Wanda seems to be feeling merciful tonight, because she doesn't wait very long.

"You can go in now, detka. Just like mommy said, okay? Nice and slow."

You nod eagerly, forgetting Wanda can't see you, and begin to nudge your fingers inside, torturously slow, exactly the way Wanda has so many dozens of times in the past.

The stretch burns, just a little bit, even with how slick you are, and you moan into the speaker. It takes nearly a full minute just to seat your fingers in completely, and you sigh as you clench down, finally feeling full.

"Pull out, baby," Wanda orders firmly.

You whine, crying out in disappointment, but you don't disobey.

"Mommy," you beg, even as you pull back out completely, leaving your cunt empty and needy again.

"No, baby. Not yet. Be good for mommy. Now you have to rub your pretty little clit. Soft. Gentle. Mommy wants you to edge yourself three times, okay? She can count for you, baby." Wanda's breathing sounds labored on the other side of the line, and you briefly have time to think about whether or not she's touching herself, too.

Then your fingers are on your clit and your thoughts wash away again.

You rub just as she instructed. Slowly, gently, cautiously. Just enough to slowly build you up to an orgasm. Never enough to tip you over. Desire throbs low and slow in your stomach, but Wanda's low voice keeps your orgasm at bay. Slower. Lighter. Hold it.

Soon enough, her voice is all you can think about. It replaces the voice in your own head, guiding every movement of every part of your body. No coming. Never coming. Just rubbing, slowly.

When you whimper a little too loud into the speaker, Wanda makes you stop. Pulling your hand away feels like hell, but you do it anyway. When your breathing settles to an acceptable degree—Wanda makes you hold the phone up to your mouth until you stop panting—she has you start again.

Slow and steady. Stretching yourself open with two fingers until you're spreading around your knuckles, and then out and away. And then once again, rubbing your clit until you can feel just how empty you are, clenching down around nothing. The tears well up this time, and Wanda coos softly when you hiccup soft sobs into the phone.

She still makes you stop.

"That's two, detka. Just one more. One more. You can do it, can't you?"

You nod limply, fingers seated deep inside your cunt. It feels glorious, to be full just for this one moment, walls fluttering around something until Wanda orders you to pull them back out, and then you're hollow again, incomplete.

This time, she has you rub even longer, twice as long as you had to before. She makes you pause whenever your breathing speeds to much, or you moan too loud. She tells you to keep your fingers on your clit no matter what, even if you're paused, just to feel the way it throbs underneath your fingertips.

When it does, she asks you to count each pulse out loud, to tell her exactly how much you need her, how much you need more.

"Okay, baby, you can stop now," she orders, after making you count for the fifth time.

"Get your vibrator, sweetheart. Press it in as far as it will go, okay?"

You reach over to the bedside table, fumbling with the drawer until you find the small vibe, sucking on the tip for only a moment before you're eagerly cramming it into your cunt. It feels heavenly, to finally have something inside again, and you moan softly.

"Good girl," Wanda coos from the phone, and you feel the way the vibrator comes to life.

It's slow, probably at the lowest setting, but you're still grateful for the way the vibrations pulse outward, rippling through your nerves deliciously.

"Oh, sweetheart," Wanda murmurs. "You've been so good for mommy today. So sweet. So obedient. Do you want to come?"

You whine eagerly, half-sentences forming in your throat.

"Please, mommy, please. Want. Wanna come. Please."

Wanda chuckles softly, and the vibrator jacks up to the highest setting. You sob gratefully into the phone, your entire body shivering as pleasure finally floods into you.

"Whenever you want, detka," she hums.

The orgasm is aggressive, fast, overpowering. It crashes through your entire body, your toes curling and back arching as all the tension you've built up for the past hour is finally released.

But even after you've come down, panting loudly into the speaker, Wanda doesn't stop the vibrator. She lets it run, still thrumming harshly deep inside of you, until you're tipped over into a second orgasm. The second orgasm is just a tinge of painful, but that ache quickly bleeds into euphoria again.

When she still doesn't stop, you begin to beg, pleading incoherently with Wanda to turn down the vibrator, to stop completely.

Wanda gives no indication at all that she's heard you.

The third orgasm is an all-consuming heatwave, burning through every raw nerve ending as your entire body is left twitching in the aftermath. The fourth and fifth completely remove all sense of coherency and reality from you. Even still, the vibrator keeps buzzing away, tucked deep in your cunt. Wanda murmurs the whole way through, reassurances sweet in her mouth.

She still doesn't stop, though, even when you've lost your voice from how much you've moaned and cried through each orgasm.

You don't even know how many times you actually come. At least 7 times, you think. When she finally turns the vibrator off, you're a complete mess, drenched in sweat and tears, your thighs coated in sticky arousal and come.

"You're okay, detka," she murmurs through the phone.

"You've been so lovely for me. Can you do just one more, baby? Just one more? Mommy wants to hear another one, pretty please?"

You whimper hoarsely, already overstimulated beyond belief, but it doesn't even matter, because the vibrator is buzzing to life yet again.

"Just one more, sweetheart. You can do it. Mommy knows you can. You're so good for me."

You manage to choke out a moan as pleasure builds in your gut yet again, aching and burning. It hurts, but it also feels euphoric.

"Be a darling and rub your clit for mommy, okay? Nice and hard, baby."

You cry out when you do, fingers pressed into your clit as you nudge along another orgasm. It's all too much, but Wanda only turns the vibrator higher. All of a sudden, the orgasm crashes through you, and you shudder one last time, squeezing down on the pulsing vibrator inside you.

You cry out unintelligibly, and Wanda turns the vibrator down, letting you ride out your final orgasm before shutting it off.

"Such a good girl for me, detka," she coos softly. "You're so lovely for me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you."

You hum into the phone, listening to the way it crackles with sound. You have half a mind to pull the vibrator back out and you leave it on the nightstand, but your uncooperative legs won't let you stand, let alone walk to the bathroom to clean up.

"It's okay, baby. You can go to sleep now. Mommy will be back in no time, okay?"

"Love you, Wanda," you murmur, eyelids already drooping with exhaustion.

As you drift off, vision swimming and blurring, you hear Wanda's honeyed voice come through the speakers again.

"Love you too, detka."

Slipping away into dreamland, you're met with the same dream as you have been for days now. When you're met with green eyes and red hair this time, you no longer feel so hollow—instead, warmth floods through you. The world around the two of you takes shape, changes colors, blissful and bright.

Wanda's eyes sparkle as she laughs at you, tugging you along to nowhere in particular, and you find yourself smiling—genuine and full.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

love bites | spencer reid x reader

word count: 2k, rating: 18+/explicit

tags: established relationship, hickeys, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, overstimulation

a/n: hello again... i'm back with another pwp fic... idk where this came from ngl, but i sort of ran away with this idea of spencer leaving hickeys and this happened lol. also i've been having chip taylor (mgg's character in 68 kill, a guy who has the biggest, wettest eyes and fucks like a madman) on the brain lately so this is definitely inspired by him too ❤️

(p.s: you can also find this fic on ao3!)

Spencer always wants to give you everything you want. He’s eager to please, with those wide puppy-dog eyes that stare up at you, that gaze that makes your insides warm, the tension between you two that makes you want to spread your legs. Not like you would put up a fight anyway.

He was already such a sweetheart on the date you just came home from, a nice dinner at a nice restaurant. Spencer was a proper gentleman, who was playing footsie with you under the table. You’d wanted to jump his bones the moment you’d left the restaurant. You hoped Spencer would get the hint, from the way you were tracing circles with your fingers onto his thighs on the drive back to his place.

“Baby,” you hum, while Spencer kisses down your neck. He always treats you like a princess, makes you feel so revered.

Sometimes, he loses himself in making you feel good. You have to call his name again – “Spencer–!” you say, in a whimper, before he responds.

“Hmm?”

“Are you leaving marks?” You ask. You feel a little conscious about it, because having to wear a turtleneck to work in the summer heat is definitely funny, but kind of embarrassing.

Spencer’s lips pause against your neck. He murmurs, “Do you want me to?” and you feel his warm breath on your skin as he says it. Your hair stands on end, your body reacting to how close Spencer is to you.

Spencer pulls away, and you mourn the loss of his warmth for a moment. He looks at you, the hazel of his eyes so deep and sweet that you feel like you could lose yourself in them. “Then I can leave them in places that you don’t have to worry about.”

“What? Where?” You ask, but your mind starts running already. His lips on your body. His gaze, scorching as he stares up at you.

He doesn’t give a verbal response, rather lets his hands fall to your waist and slips his thumbs under the waist-cutouts of your dress. Where the tips of his fingers touch your skin, you feel like you’re burning with desire already. Spencer asks, “Can I?”

“Please.” Your voice comes out breathier than you’d like.

Spencer pushes your dress up, revealing your thighs, your stomach. His fingers skirt over your skin softly, the touch almost ticklish. The dress goes up, up, up, until Spencer helps you tug it over your head. Even with the sweet gesture, him getting you undressed is making you flush, the attention he gives you and the lust in his gaze making your stomach flip.

Spencer’s lips find their way back to your neck. You hold your breath as he kisses his way down the column of your neck, taking his time. He kisses your collarbone, then the top of your breast. He nips the skin between his teeth.

“Someone’s bitey,” you gasp, trying to joke.

“Did you know that while the Brits call hickeys ‘love bites’ , you don’t actually need to bite to break the superficial blood vessels under the skin’s surface? Suction is often sufficient to cause bruising.” Spencer murmurs, as if the fun fact is absolutely necessary to him giving you a hickey on your breast. It’s cute to you, though. It kind of turns you on.

“‘Love bites’ are a cute name for hickeys, though.” You laugh. “And sucking… Isn’t that kind of gross?”

Spencer’s eyes flit up to meet yours. “I think it’s hot… I mean, being so desperate to mark you up, that I can’t control myself. Being willing to do anything to make it known that you’re mine.”

Arousal washes over you. “Jesus Christ, Spencer.”

He surges forward to kiss you, slow and languid and kind of sloppy. Still, you can feel the desperation behind his movements, his eagerness as he basically eats your face off. Spencer pulls back panting, eyes studying your face, your shirtless figure, your breasts in your bra. He stares greedily. You’re wet between your legs already.

Spencer dips his head down to press his lips to where your breast spills out of the cup of your bra, flicking his tongue over a spot he’s chosen. His front teeth graze over your skin gently. Spencer nips the skin between his teeth, sucking softly. It makes your hair stand on end – the wet sounds coming from his mouth, the heat of his breath on your skin, the slow but pleasurable twinge of pain that sinks in when he sucks a mark into your breast.

It’s erotic, the way your hand is tangled in Spencer’s hair, holding him close to you as he continues to mark up your chest with his mouth. Spencer’s hair is so soft between your fingers, slightly messy and curling at the ends. He’d moved on to mark up your other breast, his large hand cupping you perfectly, like you were made for him.

Spencer litters hickeys all over you, on your tits, your stomach, and he kisses along the waistband of your panties when he gets to them. You only have to whimper to get him to slide them off as well. He kisses your hip bone, while his hand on your other side feels you up. You feel Spencer slide his hand from the swell of your ass, to feeling the meat of your thigh, before his hand comes around and pushes your leg out to spread your legs.

“Babe,” you moan, as Spencer bites down gently on your plushy inner thigh. His tongue laps over where he had bitten, acting to soothe you from any pain, and he sucks a mark into your thigh. You see the marks of his teeth and the redness of the spot, the beginnings of a bruise. He moves over to your other thigh to give you another mark, then his lips trace their way closer to the heat between your legs, giving you more marks on the way up.

You gasp when he presses a kiss to your clit, your wetness extremely obvious to you now as he blows cool air to tease you. You shiver. Spencer laughs, “Needy. You’re so wet.”

“Because of you, baby,” you sigh, running your hand through his hair to push it back, letting you admire his gorgeous bone structure and those wide eyes of his. “Need you.”

Spencer hums, smiling to himself, as he settles himself between your spread legs. His hand comes up to your heat, two fingers spreading your lips before he leans in, licking a fat stripe up across your hole, to your clit. You moan shakily as he flicks at your clit, playing with you, the tip of his sharp tongue making pleasure jolt through your body.

You let out a sigh when he presses his face deeper because you didn’t think he could get any closer, and you feel his mouth on your cunt– slurping, licking, breathing heavily as he eats you out fervently. He gives you head like he was born to do it. The way he pleasures you makes your head spin, amidst all the slick, wet noises, and Spencer’s own eagerness to make you feel good.

You lock eyes with Spencer, his piercing gaze meeting yours from between your tits. It’s almost funny, but you’re too turned on to even joke about it. You tighten your grasp in his hair. He whimpers, a sound you never get tired of hearing, and the vibrations to your cunt make you shiver.

You want him in you, now. You tell him that. Spencer pulls away, his wide eyes seeming dark and serious.

He wipes his mouth and chin with the back of his hand, shiny with your slick and fluids. You watch the pink of his tongue dart out as he licks his lips. You whimper a little as he gets onto his knees between your spread legs, his nice button-up, slacks and boxers off and on the floor. You admire the smooth lines of his body, the softness of his stomach, his happy trail leading down to where he’s hard and leaking into his hand.

There are no words exchanged, just a knowing glance that tells Spencer to hurry and do it. Spencer’s always been good at following instructions, and he knows you and your likes like the back of his hand. You know he always wants to please.

One hand on your hip, Spencer’s other hand guides his cock to your hole. He teases the head of his cock over your clit, circling over your entrance. You can only imagine how wet and sticky you are down there, with Spencer’s cock making you even more of a mess.

He puts the head in, watches intently as he slides in, and you look up at Spencer, breathing hard. He stops for a moment and begins to pull out, only the tip inside of you. He’s such an ass. You glare at him. Spencer grins cheekily.

“Spencer–” His name leaves your lips brokenly as he suddenly presses himself deeper, in, in, in, until his cock is bottoming out and you feel so incredibly full. “Fuck me.”

Spencer grunts, eyebrows furrowed as he starts fucking into you. He goes hard and fast, knowing that’s how you like it: his skin slapping against yours, the slick sounds of his cock pounding into your hole downright obscene. Even while you shake from the force he’s putting into fucking you, Spencer’s face reads like he’s trying hard to keep it together, trying to concentrate on making you feel as good as he feels.

His mouth falls open as he grips the headboard, fucking you relentlessly. You hold onto his biceps for dear life, close to screaming as he rails you. Spencer moans, as your fingernails dig into his arms in your desperate need, “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight, angel. All wet for me.”

“Spencer, fuck, oh my God–!” You cry out, helpless, horny, feeling like you’re in heaven as Spencer fucks you just how you want, just how you need. His cock hits all the right places, deep inside of you, fucking you open like you’re made for him.

And then, your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body jolting with the pleasure that overtakes you. It’s so good, Spencer ramming into you till the overstimulation starts to sting, pleasure tinged with pain around the edges, and your clenching and writhing has Spencer pushed over the edge as well, his head dropping between his shoulders as he comes with a groan, loud and whiny, his load spilling inside of you.

You’re both breathing hard, but your eyes meet his, and you share a small smile. Spencer has paused, cock softening inside of you, and he kisses you softly. You taste yourself on his lips. You don’t care, and kiss him back. Both of you giggle when you pull away.

One of Spencer’s hands falls from the headboard to your body, his fingers gentle as they skirt over your curves, a sharp contrast to the way he was fucking you just moments ago. His hand slides over your breast, your stomach, your thighs – thumbing over the marks he’d left behind. Spencer presses down on one on your inner thigh. You moan as he grabs the meat of your thigh eagerly. He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“I love you,” you giggle softly, feeling like you got your brains fucked out. “You’re too sweet to me.”

“Why wouldn’t I be sweet to you, darling?” Spencer answers softly as he leans in, kissing your jaw gently. Your cheeks feel warm. “I love you too. Let me clean you up.”

You hum softly, laying back while Spencer gets up. You watch as Spencer, even more gorgeous in his post-orgasmic glow, grabs a small towel and slips onto the bathroom. He emerges quickly enough, the towel now damp, and slides back into bed next to you.

Spencer glances down at where you’re wet and messy. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, mind clearly busy, and asks, “Wanna let me finger you before we really go and get clean?”

You let out a laugh, and after a moment’s pause: “Yeah, okay."

[whore-ibly-hot]

Tw: Dubcon, coercion, orgasm denial, general guys being icky and manipulative.

(Its kinda ass idk)

Thinking about...

A couple of guys, not really delinquents bit certainly not 'upstanding' citizens just using you for some relief. It's probably after some event, maybe a rock show at some shithole downtown, or maybe you were just getting some snacks with guys you thought were your friends. Not thought, they are your friends, but you couldn't have imagined this.

The first fidgets with the lever of the backseats, trying to get them folded back into the trunk while number twos tugging at your skirt, your tits pressed harshly into the leather of his car. "Cmon, find the fucking lever!" He growls and number one, who raises his hands in defense. "What do you want me to do, its probably your fucking car that let this happen. This shit-bucket probably doesn't even have a lever for the seats anymore."

Number three is driving, slowly finding some small lot with minimal lights in the back of some old building, shifting into park. While the two in back continue to bicker, he makes his way to the front of you. "Are you two sure about this? Seems like going to far." He says, one hand gripping at his pants sleeve with tension.

"You're bricked up too, bro. You aren't exactly the virgin Mary here." Number two pauses, then chuckles. "But, maybe virgin does fit." One cackles too, prompting three to smack the shoulder of two. "You're not scared, are you? You want this plenty, right?" Two asks, squishing your cheeks together in a 'fishy' face with a free hand.

"Don't know." You're scared, tired from the the fun night, unsure why three guys you've always been platonic with are doing this, but you can't deny the aching in your gut, the way your thighs are rubbing a bit against the leather seams of the middle seat and the far right seat. "I'm not sure, you guys-" You yelp, a hard open-palm grazing across the sliver of exposed ass poking from under your slightly ridden up skirt.

"Fuck is wrong with you?" Three asks, suddenly the seat jolts down, making you gasp. "Easy, easy."

"Get that skirt off, I just know she's got a good ass." One's hands push up, grabbing a cheek each amd kneading them as he groans. "Fucking mint, look at this, baby!" One leans so he's over you a bit, hard clothed cock pressing against your ass as he whispers in your ear. "Why'd you hide this thing from us?" He asks.

"I wasn't hiding it-"

"Obviously." Two snarks. "We barely even had to lift this skirt up, you were practically flaunting it."

God, you're aching. Maybe it's half stress, half arousal making you run on adrenaline, but the lack of care they seem to have for how you feel about this is having a primal effect on you.

"Pussy's fat too..." One comments, yanking down the thin panties keeping your soaked lips from him.

"Careful!" You squeak, causing them all to actually pause for a moment. "Its... been a bit."

Two breaks out into a grin, realizing this should mean dwindling protests from you about the way they plan to use you.

"She's not saying yes." Three protests, hand coming to hover over your cunt, effectively blocking his eager friends wandering fingers.

"She said maybe, and look at her!" One tries to get his hands past threes hand. "She's dripping on his leather seats, she's wetter than a bitch in heat.

"Its not like we're holding her down in some alley or something!" Two adds, placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead. "This is loving compared to that. Vanilla stuff." He snips.

Three seems conflicted, eyes downcast as he reluctantly pulls a hand away, moving it to gently rub your back up and down, as if trying to soothe a cat.

"Finally. Glad you decided to knock off the cockblocking." Spreading the lips of your labia, one whistles lowly, dragging a digital from your hole to aroused bud from behind, gently circling once, then twice.

"Shit-" You whisper out, gripping the seat edges with slick hands. You can feel threes hand clench slightly, but you lay your cheek on his knee, casting a flushed and low-lidded glance up at him. This reassures him a little, but your head near his oh-so sensitive inner thigh makes this action also go right to his dick.

"Fingers, how many you want?" One whispers. You just mewl at the feeling of friction on your clit, whining when it suddenly stops. "Wait, wait, okay, two, two!" You exclaim. You jolt forward a bit at the slight intrusion, the digits working you towards a finish, but not at the pace you'd like.

"You're sucking him in like crazy, shit." Two chuckles, leaning to glance behind you. "Makes me wonder what kinda suction you'd have elsewhere." He fidgets with his belt, the sound of a zipper and belt clasp coming undone sounds out, and a snap of boxers being pulled slightly lower. Three looks disgusted as two just winks, taking his own cock in his hand and running his hand over it once, then twice before pressing it forward.

Your lips wet with the slightly sticky red tip he presses to them, prodding once or twice like he's seeking entrance. "You wanna out in? Just give it a taste, I promise I'm not gonna make you take it all the way, baby." Two chuckles as you awkwardly kiss the tip. "That's nice, but I'm not asking you to give it's first kiss." Gripping your hair, he guides it in a bit, groaning. "Yeah, there we go. Right around my cock, use your tongue." You let out a moan as one hits a spot with the tips of his fingers, curled inside. It reverberates around Two's cock, causing him to buck. He keeps his promise, you have to admit, he only bucks forward a bit before pulling his length back out. "You're taking it so fucking good, not gonna bruise your mouth though, she's taking it like a fucking champ, man." He glances at One. "You think she's close?"

"Her pussy's twitching like she's gonna pop any second." The bragging first member slows his pace, causing you to whine and pull your mouth off Two's cock. "Why'd you stop, wait- wait-" You're panting, on the verge of overstimulation and seeking that release rather than focus on all your conflicting feelings.

"Shh, calm down. You'll get your pussy rocked, calm down." Two elbows Three, nodding his head towards the man. He's been stoic since you out your head on his leg, conflicted and sickened, while simultaneously being sickening aroused. "Last chance to jump this, man. I know you want to.." Three just pushes him back, but moves to have you sit up, now facing him. His hands on your cheek. "Breathe. S' okay, you want to stop, or you want to finish this?" He asks.

"Finish it, baby. We'll stroke it over yo-" Three smacks off one, scolding him before turning back to you. "Your choice. Your decision. Don't listen to them." Three reassures you, arms on blocking you in and leaning over you slightly to keep the other two from interfering.

"Finish. I wanna cum, m' aching and-" You buck forward just a bit, and he gets the memo. "Okay, okay. Lay on your back, spread your legs, I'm gonna do the work."

You don't have to be asked twice; laying on the cool leather, this time back down, chest rising. Two hands get your feet tucked around Threes waist, and he lowers down on you. You're so hyper focused on how sensitive you are, and your 'friend'leaning over you you can barely register one and two jerking off, hoping to climax around the time you do.

Three gets himself lined up, but not before placing a few soft kisses on your neck. "I got you. Just forget about those idiots, okay? You and me, I'm taking care of you. I'll let you finish and make em' take you right back home."

You just nod, eyes squeezing tight as he enters. "Ah-" You groan. "You're big, fuck-"

He's not moving. "Too big?"

You shake your head, and he resumes several slow repitions. Eventually, he's fully sheathed, balls smacking against your ass as he thrusts. "Amazing, you feel so good, so good." He grunts. His hands brace on either side of you, but don't grip you harshly like one and two. "Is it good for you?" He asks.

"Up..." is all you can mumble. He gets the hint, angling his cock slightly. Soon, his bulbous tip is hammering that spongy place deep inside you, and you can feel your release finally hitting. "Yes, cumming, I'm finishing-" You start to yell, then gasp at a hot rush of fluids that's aren't your own.

"Holy shit!" Two cackles along with one, as three halts in his movements. "Mister 'i don't wanna, it's not right' might've just knocked you up!"

Your still riding out your orgasm, but three has immediately snapped out of ir. "I didn't mean to, sorry, I didn't-" he's pulling out, immediately smacking two who finished a bit ago. "Its your car, drive. Fucking drive, go to the pharmacy." Two puts his hands up, but obeys.

"M' so sorry." Three says as he sits you up. "I promise I'm clean and stuff, and we're gonna grab plan b, get you some water too-"

"Its okay." You blurt. "Its okay, I know you didn't mean to." Biting your lip, you think about what happened. Of any other guys did this, it'd be horrifying, and you admit it was scary. But... it also wouldn't feel nearly as hot with anyone else. "It was good."

"Hell yeah it was." Both of you were so caught up, you didn't realize One stayed in the back of the car. "Wait till you get a ride on me, baby. I promise I'll be even more of a gentleman. Shit, I'll tell you before it shoot my load in you."

You should go out for late night drives more.

[arminsumi]

I want to kiss you / キスしたい

G. Satoru

NOTE: i recently started learning to write in japanese for not much reason other than to occupy my mind with something new. this little daydream came to me and i can't stop thinking about it, i think falling in love despite a language barrier is one of the purest and sweetest ways to fall in love.

WARNINGS — it might be fem reader idk, kissing 👍, ur married w him at the end, not proofread lol i'm snuggled up in bed ok

Satoru cant speak english and you cant speak japanese; Suguru is the translator friend. You met him online years ago, who knows how. But you hit it off, and four years of friendship rolled by.

Satoru heard all about Y/n and saw you many times when Suguru facetimed or called you. You and him had many cute, playful interactions, ranging from making hearthands at each other to flipping each other off and laughing about it. Sometimes Satoru would be sat off-camera, overloading Suguru with things to translate, because he had a lot to say to you. One time, Suguru left for a few minutes to get a pizza delivery, and then Satoru got very quiet and the two of you blinked at your screens.

"Hi."

"Hi."

And then you two for some reason started laughing with your whole chests, Suguru walked in with a confused smirk. He joked, "Sooo... what did you and Satoru talk about while I was gone?" He asked, gentle accent coming through in soft waves. "The mysteries of the universe." You replied. Satoru was already diving into the pizza box, but he still listened to you speak; he wondered what you had said, maybe you used some fancy words to say that you liked him? He'd be lying if he said he didn't memorize variations of "i like you" after that. He was paranoid that he could miss you saying that you liked him.

You managed a slow, meticulously-pronounced nice to meet you in Japanese when you finally visited Tokyo. It was at the airport. You and Suguru had shared many hugs — good grief, you'd seen height comparisons many times but none painted a real idea of just how big these boys were. But Satoru? He was loudmouthed on a screen and surprisingly shy in person. Eventually he hugged you and didn't let go. He even got so comfy as to hang and cling to your body like you saw him doing with Suguru in countless photos and videos.

Though you could barely pronounce the little Japanese that you picked up, Satoru felt giddy to hear your pretty voice in his language. He listened to you like you were reciting love poetry to him, fists under his chin and eyes starry. But you were just saying basic phrases, boring things — nothing that articulated your thoughts properly.

He was far too embarrassed to try and speak any English when he first met you, even though after developing a crush on you he did start learning some English on the side. He knew quite a bit, but listening was so impossibly difficult it frustrated him like nothing else. He was also self-conscious of his English accent, though Suguru tried to assure him that he sounded very cute and almost oddly British.

So often instead of attempting to speak tiny phrases to you, Satoru threw a lot of hand motions and signals your way which got the two of you and Suguru laughing — poor Sugie, he was always translating even the smallest things you said even if you muttered them under your breath, because Satoru was eager to know every little thought and expression you had, even if you were simply commenting on the weather.

Once you commented that it was so hot, you were visiting during a heatwave-filled summer. Satoru raised his brows at Suguru expectantly, and you heard a familiar translation;

暑い。

It's hot.

There was such a frustrating language barrier between the two of you, it became more evident when you had finally flown over the sea to meet them.

Yet you and satoru fell in love silently and beautifully, your love flowing like a river in the most unexpected directions. You felt his affection emanating from his irises. You and him joked around, and talked — though you had no idea what the other meant most of the time. Sometimes the two of you gave up and you talked in English, he responded with Japanese, and it went on like that very comedically until Suguru came back to bridge the gap.

Lots of time was spent putting your heads together over your phone, reading translations of what you wanted to say to each other.

One day, when Suguru left the two of you alone in his apartment kitchen so that he could hop to the convenience store, Satoru typed something into the translator and let you read it. Your face warmed up.

キスしたい。

I want to kiss you.

He looks at you expectantly.

You type back to him.

Then kiss me.

それからキスして。

He blushed and hesistated, the two of you making electric eye contact for a while before he boyishly pecked your lips to test if you liked his kiss, but oh that's all the two of you needed to realize just how much you liked each other. You melted into each other like your bodies were made for nothing else but to embrace and be one. He shook a little, tentatively gliding his lips over yours. His hands nervously cupped your cheeks. With the way he handled you so carefully, you'd think you were made of porcelain.

Your reciprocation meant everything to him. His confidence flourished. The soft smacking, wet sounds got louder when he kissed you more passionately. Those gentle hands found their way to the back of your neck, and he softly pressed you closer to him as if he was scared you would pull away. What if you changed your mind mid-kiss? He was overthinking and you wouldn't have even guessed it, because you thought he was in the same blissed out dream state as you were. So high on kissing that the world fell away.

The two of you started smiling embarrassedly, grinning so hard that you couldn't continue kissing. Then the two of you just giggled against each other's faces — a subconscious realization swept him; laughter and kissing are their own languages.

Yes as years passed and you visited time and time again, your Japanese improved and his English improved. When you moved to Japan, eventually you adopted a messy mix of Japanese and English with Satoru. He liked showing off how perfectly he could pronounce things, and you liked showing off that you could write very neat kana.

Years and years and years passed and when you and him were married in your own little apartment, starting a life together, a very fluent Satoru reminisced about how the two of you fell in love despite barely speaking to each other.

"It was your eyes for me." You said.

"Oh really? It was your voice for me. I didn't know what you were saying, but it sounded nice." He said.

"Mmm I liked your voice, too." You said, snuggling your head on his shoulder. He basked in the attention, though it was common, it always felt special for him. The smallest hand touches and wrist kisses made his heart lurch.

"Remember when I always nagged Suguru to translate every little thing you said?"

"Yeah, you worked him to the bone." You chuckled.

"I just wanted to know what you were saying. I had such a crush on you, looking back now it was even ridiculous how much I liked you considering the barrier and all."

"Ooh, did you?"

"How is this surprising? We're married??"

"Oh yeah."

[cbuumbbles]

[Decode Pt. 2] Self-Aware! Caleb x fem!reader

CW: Smut, this shits gonna get freakyyy, 18+ MDNI. (Contains: egregious squirting, vaginal fisting, cunnilingus, unrealistic belly bulge, HES GOT A HUGE PENIS GUYS, so many orgasms, water breaks to stay hydrated, size kink ??, def hand kink, dacryphilia, misuse of evol, drooling, choking, tummy appreciation in missionary, breeding kink too possibly?? not really, but maybe if you squint, idk if I’m missing anything else w/ out spoiling). SORRY FOR THIS LAUNDRY LIST. I got carried away :p

Summary: You and Caleb had been dating for a while now and your needs couldn't be more met than they are with him.

A/N: Hi people! If you haven't read part 1, go read it! Part 1 is not freaky btw. This is my second time writing for this godforsaken website. So I still don't know how to make it look fancy. Bare with me. Anywho! I hope you enjoy, this is my first time in a long time writing smut, so if it's bad, just tell me nicely so I can fix it. Also sorry this took so long to get out after part 1, I have had 0 time to write.

Part 1

Caleb had finally convinced you to quit your job so he could take care of you full time. You loved the time off, he made sure to pamper you too. Your nails were always done, hair trimmed, and your back massaged. When he wasn't home, you started having to get creative with ways to entertain yourself. He had bought you a vibrator a while back which helped entertain you until he got home. You'd think it'd wear you out by the time he got home, but something inside of you was like an insatiable beast that needed to jump on Caleb as soon as he got home from work. Caleb loved every second of it, he loved giving you as much pleasure as you wanted. If you thought you were spoiled before you got together, you haven't seen anything yet. Caleb would do anything you asked him to, and you've asked him to do a lot. He's always happy to oblige and eager to please you. Being able to code anything about your reality was a life saver. Since he knew what you liked, he coded himself to be able to give you the maximum amount of pleasure you'd ever want. He was also surprised about how you weren't completely dehydrated all of the time, but he made sure you drank plenty of water, even having water breaks in the middle of sex to keep you from passing out.

Right now, you were using your vibrator on your shared bed, waiting for Caleb to come home. All you could think about was how good it's gonna feel once you start feeling his fingers filling you up. You started to imagine his fingers teasing your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it around. His thick fingers were something you drooled over every time you saw them, they were perfect and all you could picture in your mind when you saw them was how nice they feel pumping inside of you. The vivid fantasies started to feel real when you swear you can feel his fingers start to slip inside of your dripping pussy. They felt so real that you opened your eyes to find Caleb, home from work. "Hi princess, I'm home." He whispers, smiling at you while his fingers were pulling squelching sounds from you. It was embarrassing how wet he could get you. But he knew all of the places he needed to get to in order for you to get undone on his fingers. He bent down, using his tongue to lap up some of the mess you were making. "Always taste amazin', pretty." He praised you. You were moaning in response, unable to form proper words. But that's how he always had you, it was like magic. He could melt your mind in an instant with just his fingers, something he was extremely proud of. All you could say was 'more' and 'Caleb,' it was like a mantra. He sticks another finger in, making it a total of three, but he knew you could handle the whole fist tonight, you were sopping. The spot under you was drenched in your squirt. He loved how messy you were and that he was the only one who could get you to that point.

"I- close, Caleb 'm close." You hurried out, he kept his same pace as you felt the white hot pleasure building in your stomach. The journey to the orgasm was almost as pleasurable as letting go, maybe it was because you knew what was about to happen.

"Come on, angel, come on my fingers." He coaxed, his words being the final push that sends you over the edge. You moan and whine out his name as you feel your pussy pulse around his fingers, squeezing them in. As you ride out your high on his fingers, the feeling fades and you start working yourself up again. He adds another finger, making it four and you feel amazing, on cloud nine. The water works were going everywhere and you couldn't shut your mouth, as hard as you tried. You were making a mess of Caleb, thankfully he undressed himself before starting in on you, you could see drops of your squirt on his chest which made you incredibly more horny somehow. "You're doing so good, takin' me so well, pretty. You think you can handle the whole fist now?" He asked. All you could do was nod your head fervently. "I wanna hear your words baby, think you can do that for me, or are you too fucked out to speak?" He knew the answer, anything past three and you were completely melted. "My dumb little angel forgot how to speak. You're lucky I know you so well, I know exactly what you need." He coos, adding the last finger. You could feel him reaching every possible spot he needed to, his fingers stretching you out and getting you ready for his cock. You felt that familiar feeling start building up again as you suck in his fingers subconsciously. He could tell you were getting close by the way your walls were spasming around his hand. "You're so greedy with my fingers baby, it's makin' me jealous. You're taking me so well, pretty. Getting all stretched out for what's coming later. Gettin' so wet for me, you're drenching the bed. You're doing such a good job, princess. Come all over my fingers." He spoke, all of his praises going straight to your core as you felt that burning hot feeling again.

"Caleb, Caleb, Caleb." You repeated in quick succession, you could feel your release rapidly approaching.

"That's it, come on, angel. Let yourself go, beautiful." He says. His encouraging words help you focus on getting to your release and when you finally snap, it's just as intense as last time. You pulse around his fist and your legs start shaking. You know that tomorrow will have to be a recovery day for, the night is still long from over. "Let me get a taste, baby. Can you sit up for me?" He asks, you try your hardest, able to get to your knees. Your brain was fried and all you cared about was getting more. He handed you your water as you took slow sips, learning not to chug it all at once by now. "Sweet girl, that feel better?" He asks, taking the water back to set it down, as you nod your head. He lays down on the bed and you know exactly what he wants. You hover yourself above his head, staring down at him through tired lids. He grabs your thighs and pulls you down onto his face, he moans in pleasure as a response. "So good, angel. Taste so good." He moans into your pussy, using his tongue to fuck your hole while his nose was rubbing into your clit. You couldn't help your hands traveling down to his head to push him up further into you, using your hips to grind on his face. You were so spoiled, using his face like this, but he loved every second of it. You tasted tart which reminded him of his favorite fruits. You could hear him sucking everywhere he could get his mouth on, it felt so good. You desuctioned yourself from Caleb's mouth, with a wet plop and a whine from him, to turn around to put your hands on his chest. Now he was nose deep in your pussy and his tongue was working on your clit. You fucked his nose, hearing the sound of labored breathing through his muffled mouth. You saw his hips buck up into the air as he was holding you down on his face like a vice.

You just tasted too good, the remnants of squirt still coating your sex. His moans were deep with a heavy vibration that you felt throughout your entire body. It was enough to have you heaving for air as you got closer to your third release, from him, that night. He began sucking on your clit, tonguing it while the pressure from the suction helped get you off. The suction started building your release as you started getting desperate for release. "Please Caleb. I need it so so so bad." You beg, it coming out labored from how little you could focus on anything other than releasing on his face. The sounds of his muffled moaning mixed with the wet sounds coming from both of you were what you focused on to finally snap and pulse your cunt onto his face. You could hear his muffled praises from underneath you as he worked you through your third orgasm of the night.

He lifted you off of his face and flipped your positions with ease. You think you're finally ready for his dick, but he has other plans. "I'm not done tasting you yet. I didn't get nearly enough time with that gorgeous pussy in my face." He said, your slick coating and dripping off his face. He dips his head between your legs again and starts his attack on your sensitive bud again. You jolt in response from how sensitive you were. You felt like you had nothing more to give, but every time Caleb would start up again, you'd be proven wrong. There was a battle in your mind. You wanted to go to bed for the night, but you also wanted every single orgasm he was about to give you. You buck up into his face, grabbing his head to push it down into you, but your hands are pulled from him and held by an invisible force. You whine, trying to fight his evol holding you down. "If you weren't so greedy, I wouldn't have to keep your hands above your head." He comments, looking at you while sticking two fingers in your hole. You gasped, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. His fingers were pushing against your gummy walls, hitting every spot with a precision that made you favor fingers over anything else. Caleb knew your preference and made sure to spoil you. You felt him go back to sucking on your clit, still pumping his fingers into you. It was like he was the conductor of the most beautiful sounding symphony and you didn't want it to end. Everything was so overwhelming that you couldn't help but beg, but you didn't know what you were begging for. Caleb loved hearing your pleading voice repeating his name. He loved breaking your mind with pleasure. There wasn't a time that the sex you had together didn't end up in you becoming a drooling mess. You tasted amazing, he couldn't get over it. If they made a drink inspired by you, he'd drink it every day. He couldn't get enough of you, because, just like him, he is just as insatiable as you are. He'd eat you out all night if he you'd last without passing out. You definitely last longer now, you're able to have more orgasms in one session. You used to get wiped out after two, but he's trained you to go to four. Tonight he wants to try for six, he knows you're ready, that you're so good for him. His tongue wouldn't relent, keeping a sickening, steady pace that made your mind swim with thoughts that were nothing but Caleb. The combination of everything with the steady pace he was keeping and his moans into your sex made the feeling start to build up again. Your moaning turned into whines and whimpers the closer you got to finishing. You could feel tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming amount of times you've came and you didn't know what number Caleb planned on stopping at. He loved making you orgasm, it was one of his favorite things to do. He also loved watching tears roll down your face from how overwhelming the pleasure was.

"Caleb!" You whined out as you were pushed over the edge again, for your forth orgasm. Your breaths were uneven as you tried to come back down. He kept going until you rode out your high, stopping to grab your water again, knowing you'd need it after how much fluid you lost. Again, you sip it, tears drying streaks onto your face, your hair a wild mess from all of the thrashing you were doing and Caleb didn't think there was a prettier sight in the world.

"So pretty baby, such a mess for me. Like a work of art." Caleb was no artist, but he thought that if he were, you'd be his best work. Your chest was heaving as you took in breaths through your nose as you kept sipping the water. Your eyes were closed and you felt ready to fall asleep, but you also craved more. You wanted his cock and thankfully that was the next part of the night. "You ready, angel?" He asked you. You just nodded, handing your water to him with your eyes still closed. "Are you too sleepy?" He asked causing you to groan in protest. He had fucked all of the words out of you. "Alright then, greedy." He narrowed his eyes at you, like a predator with their prey.

You feel his evol moving your legs, folding you in half. Then you felt him hovering over top of you. You open your eyes to see a slice of heaven. His face was glistening with sweat and your juices, same with his chest. You could smell your arousal on him now and it made you realize he had been too busy eating your cunt to even kiss you yet, so you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into one. You can taste yourself on his lips as your tongues meet together, fighting for dominance. Neither won, but the war was still raging. You bit his bottom lip to surprise him. He moaned in response, taking the hint and doing the same thing back. Your fingers were tangled in his hair to try and pull him closer to you because he never seemed close enough. You desperately wanted to wrap your legs around his torso to slam him down onto you, but he still had his evol holding your legs in that stretching position. You whined into the kiss, wanting friction from him so badly. “Please, Caleb. I need you.” You whimpered, looking at him with the most desperate look in your eyes. He couldn’t say no to you, especially not when you were looking at him like that.

You had taken him many times before, but you still needed a pretty big warm up before he could penetrate you. Saying his cock was big was an understatement. It caused a delicious belly bulge every time he’d go in. “Alright honey, I’m gonna start sliding it in.” He warned you. You felt his tip prod at your entrance making you impatiently eager. The first feeling of his cock entering you made you gasp. It was never not shocking to feel how girthy he was. You felt him keep going and you thought he must almost be done by now, until you heard him say. “Tip’s almost in, honey. You’re doing amazing.” And with that a final pop and his tip was officially in. Now the real challenge was being able to take all of him in. You hated leaving some of his dick out; you didn’t think it was fair for some of his dick to have a taste and the other part left in the dust. This is where the previous size training comes in handy. You can handle all of him, it just takes time to get it all in. After that, it’s smooth sailing.

“God, Caleb.” You choke out, eyes going wide at the sensation of how full you were feeling already.

“Don’t tell me you’re already quitting? We’re not even half way yet, angel.” He teases you.

“No, please keep going. Need more.” You muttered, gripping his biceps for dear life. As full as you felt, he was right, you were so greedy. He loved how you always craved so much of him. He was happy to oblige. He kept sliding further into you that you could feel him in unusual places, but you loved it. You craved it. You couldn’t wait to see him poking through your tummy.

“Almost there, love. Doing so well for me. Takin’ me like you were made for me, baby.” His praises made you throb around his dick, which earned a hiss from him. “Careful, princess.” He warns. You feel the last of him bottom out with his balls on your ass. “Did so good for me. Look at that.” He said, forcing your head, with his evol, to look at the bulge he made. The sight literally made you drool. You were shocked it took you this long to start drooling, but the sight before you was delicious. You detangle one of your hands from his hair to press down on it. You both moaned in response. He starts thrusting and you started seeing stars. He went slow at first, like always, to ease you into it. You knew his mercy wouldn’t last for much longer. Instead of begging for a faster pace, you relished in the calm before the storm. That surprised Caleb considering you were usually whining at him at this point. He figured it must’ve been because of how many orgasms you had that night. Still more to come! “Always so tight for me.” Caleb manages to grunt out. He loved missionary because he got to watch your tits bounce up and down. Your cute little tummy made the same bouncing movements too that he loved.

Then he sped up and you were gripping his biceps like a lifeline. Your face was dug into his neck, biting into his shoulder and accidentally drooling on it. Caleb loved witnessing you turn to mush beneath him. It was a feeling he would never get over, he'd do it forever if you'd let him. You looked perfect, your sweat was making your hair stick to your forehead and it gave your skin a beautiful glow. Your flushed cheeks were calling out to him to kiss them. He peppered your cheeks in kisses as you moaned out his name. You felt yourself building to climax again, this was past your limit. You knew you could do more, Caleb always brought it out in you. Your squirt was spraying up from being smacked into, it was a mess. You could tell how much Caleb loved it by the feral sounds he was making paired with the aggressive thrusting. He had you hovering off of the bed now, holding you up with his arms and keeping your thighs at torso level with his evol. He was grunting in your ear, telling you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, and other sweet nothings. It helped push you over the edge to the point where you were gripping so hard on his biceps that your fingers turned white and half moons from your fingernails would linger for a couple of days. "Caleb." You whined out, your voice coming out in waves of volume that matched the thrusts he was pounding into you.

"That's it baby, you got it. You're almost done." He said. With every steady, rough thrust, you could feel the build getting faster and faster until eventually it all climaxed and you started pulsing around him, once again. His dick had finally had a taste of your orgasm pulsing around him. It was like you were trying to milk him. He could've came, but he knew he needed to last a little longer to pull that one last sweet orgasm from you. "'m not done yet, princess. Just hold on until I can fill you up." He instructs you, causing you to moan. His pace was relentless and it felt sweet going in and out of you. You were addicted to it at that point, wanting to feel him stuffing your pussy full forever. You'll have to ask if you can cockwarm him sometime soon. He'd obviously agree, but he wouldn't make it easy for you.

He flips you over, using his strength to arch your back and choke you from behind. He used his evol to keep your head back while he stuck two fingers in your mouth. The slight pressure his evol added to your neck was addictive. You sucked and bit down on his fingers, moaning his name. He felt so much bigger from behind that it was almost ridiculous. Your whimpers and whines faded into the distance only to be replaced by viceral moans as he pounded into you with a sickening pace. The noises coming from your sex was like music to your ears. His fingers in your mouth caused you to drool more. Thankfully, you were in the spare bedroom so that way you could change the sheets and clean the mattress and still have a bed to lie down in to get aftercare. Because with the way you were making a mess out of both ends, you'd need a dry place to sleep. "Mmm." You loudly whine, feeling it build up again.

"You almost there again, already?" He teased you. He loved looking at you from behind too. He loved looking at you from any position really. He thought you were the most beautiful angelic person to ever exist. "Come on baby, let's cum together. I'm gonna fill you up." He said as his hands dwared your hips as he began to hold them to slam you back into him. Your tears started up again as they began to stream down your face.

You felt it build up and up and up until it finally spilled over, you spasmed on his cock, feeling impaled. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." You said over and over again like a mantra.

"Fuck baby, I'm cumming." He groaned, pumping his cock into you. You could feel him paint your pulsing walls. It all felt so warming, it could put you to sleep. He pumped his last few times to finish inside of you, pulling out of you and immediately pulling you into him for a much needed hug. "So beautiful and perfect. I love you so much, honey." He said, using the nickname you used to have when you'd fake date. Those same butterflies from back then found their way to your stomach too.

"Mm, love you too... S'much." You muttered out as best you could. You could tell you were fading fast. All you wanted was to fall asleep in his arms while he played with your hair. You also realized how thirsty you were too. "Water?" You asked. He was already one step ahead of you, holding the straw up to your lips. You took sips, making contented sighs as you leaned back into him. This was heaven, you were sure of it. Every day he'd treat your needs as the top priority. You couldn't express how much you truly loved him. It was impossible because there weren't grand enough words to describe it.

"Let's get to bed, baby. You look so tired." He cooed at you, lifting you up and carrying you into your shared bedroom. He laid you down in the bed, going to grab a towel to clean the mess in between your thighs. "You did so well. Six in one session. And that's not even counting the ones you had before I got home. You're so amazing baby. I knew you could do it." He spoke on his way back from the bathroom. He cleaned me and then him, tucking me into the covers and turning on the ceiling fan. He threw the towel in the dirty laundry and finally joined me in bed. By the time he climbed in beside me, I was already half asleep. He turned me around to cuddle me into his chest and I fell asleep with a content smile on my face with his fingers playing with my hair.