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a-b-riddle · 6 months ago

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Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #angst

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lyrefromthesea · 4 months ago

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You’re absolutely one of my favourite writers 💙 Please could I request hashira x reader, where the reader looks after the hashira’s family/ those they care for when they are on a long mission 💙💙

Male pillars x reader - family matters

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

who would've expected nearly the entirety of the Uzui family to fall sick? it luckily didn't hit him, but Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma all fell ill.

you would've done it without his pleading, but when he asked you so kindly to take care of his wives, you couldn't say no.

you were in a relationship with them too, it was only right to take care of your loved ones, right?

so when Tengen came home and saw you put wet towels on all their head with the outmost patience, he felt his heart swell with pride.

"i'm back, are you all feeling better?" he asked, looking down at the three sick women. they were cuddled up in their shared bed, not wanting to be alone.

he was glad when he watched them slowly nod and tell him how good you've taken care of them.

"thank you, beautiful.." he said to you, glad that there was someone he could trust. "let me help now."

Obanai:

when Obanai left for a mission and left Kaburamaru with you, he knew you would take care of his friend. however, he didn't expect finding you like this.

you have fallen asleep in the kitchen, your cheek squished against the counter. Kaburamaru had found his place around your neck, as if he wanted to keep you warm.

Iguro looked around, seeing Kaburamaru's food bowl. it was empty, but he knew the snake had eaten today. he could tell by the way Kaburamaru was sleeping with you, having filled his stomach.

furthermore, there was a plate full of food placed near you. he could see another empty plate in the sink, indicating that you've already eaten.

he had told you when he would come back from his mission, figuring that you've prepared the second plate for him.

he looked at you with a gentle gaze, not wanting to wake you up, but knowing you shouldn't sleep in the kitchen. with a quick and careful movement, he had picked you up and carried you to the bedroom.

you had taken care of him and his snake, it was time to take care of you now.

Rengoku:

multiple bottles of liquor stood in front of his family's estate. they were all empty.

he knew those were the bottles his father used to buy, but the man would never place them here.

knowing that you had been staying in his house for the past few days, he figured it would have something to do with you.

"i'm home, dear!" he greeted, happy when he saw you run up to him. perhaps you had been spoiling him too much, but he was used to a kiss on the lips whenever he returned to you.

"first you take my sake away and now this? i'll puke!" Shinjuro scolded you, but you just smiled back at him.

Kyojuro was confused at first, quickly remembering the empty liquor bottles in front the family estate.

"don't pretend like you didn't like the past days! you even played board games with me and Senjuro." you countered, sticking your tongue out.

perhaps it was because you weren't a demon slayer, but Shinjuro could speak to you much more calmly than with others. or maybe it was because you reminded him of the peace of earlier days.

"you did? let's celebrate my return with another board game!" Kyojuro enthusiastically offered, earning a happy nod from you.

"you're going to play as well, right?" you ask Shinjuro, not surprised by him rolling his eyes, knowing he would join you two and Senjuro.

Sanemi:

"is he okay?" Sanemi asked, his fists clenching hard. he was desperate to know about his little brother's state.

when he heard that Genya had been hurt during his fight with a demon, he had wanted to see his brother right away, but he couldn't look him in the eyes anymore.

he knew that Genya hated him for what he had done, he had no right to worry over him now.

naturally, his eyes lit up when he saw you take over the role of a nurse, watching over Genya properly.

"he's doing better." you answered, seeing him quiet down and nod. he felt relief settle in his heart, coming closer to hug you.

his head rested on your shoulder, his arms hanging by his side. his heart was trapped in a mix of guilt and relief.

"you know, he told me that he missed you. you should see him.." you told him, knowing the story the two brothers shared was a sad one.

"no.." he simply said, but you could hear the sorrow in his voice. he probably wanted his brother back as much as Genya wanted him.

"thank you for looking after him.."

Giyuu:

he had trouble revealing his feelings to other people, but when he heard Tanjiro being hurt once again, you noticed the look on his face.

when you told him that you'd temporarily look after the young demon slayer, you saw the man relax slightly. he trusted you and he knew you'd do your best.

he wanted to do his best for you as well, deciding it would only be fair to visit you and Tanjiro now and then.

"Tomioka-san!" Tanjiro beamed, nearly making his way out of the bed, but you held him back, letting him remember that he needed to rest as much as possible.

"Tanjirou, are you feeling better..?" he asked, stepping into the room Tanjirou got assigned. he glanced up at you, seeing a soft smile form on your face.

he made his way towards you while he listened to the boy talk.

"i'm feeling so much better already! [name]-san took great care of me!" Tanjirou said, enthusiastically fiddling with his hands. Giyuu moved to your side, placing a soft kiss on your cheek.

"thank you for taking care of him." Giyuu whispered against your ear, turning your head to face him. "i have another mission now, wish me luck, love."

you nodded, knowing that you would pray for his return every day, you just didn't know Tanjirou would speak up again. "Tomioka-san! Tomioka-san!"

naturally, Giyuu hurried out of the room.

Gyomei:

"namu, cat cute.." he mumbled, pressing the small animal against his body in a squeezing hug.

you chuckled quietly, seeing the cat meow and wiggle in an attempt to get out.

you had found it a few days ago, the cat couldn't walk due to it's injured paw. when Gyomei came back that day, he was fine with you keeping the cat until it was healthy.

truthfully, he was more than fine with the addition to his home, especially when he found the cat sitting on one of his shirts a few days later.

he took it as a sign that the cat liked him, first feeding it and then trapping it in his arms.

"was this really a good idea? i feel like the cat is getting more attention than me." you teased, not expecting his strong arm to wrap around you as well, now trapping you in the same hold as the cat.

"you're cute too, don't worry."

#kny #kny x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer #demon slayer x reader #tengen uzui #tengen x reader #obanai iguro #obanai x reader #rengoku kyojuro #rengoku x reader #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi x reader #giyuu tomioka #giyuu x reader #gyomei himejima #gyomei x reader

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parfaitblogs · 3 days ago

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roadkill ❀ s. reid x reader

in which a vacant home sits awaiting for spencer reid's return, and then he sits waiting for yours.

pairing: spencer reid x reader genre: hurt/comfort tags: established relationship. cm s12 spoilers. post prison reid. most certainly not canonically accurate. in fact diana reid is nowhere to be seen. canon’s not real anyways i know him better than the cm writers. past non prison reid trauma mentioned. reader has hair long enough for a ponytail (?) word count: 2.6k a/n: happy parfaitblogs post prison spencer reid fanfic to a searows song to all that celebrate.

The air was uncomfortably still in apartment 23. Thick, coating every piece of furniture, as if it was some incredibly translucent fog. Everything had been moved, and yet nothing was different. Empty mugs sitting in his sink with a coffee stain that reached a centimetre from the top, shoes dispersed on the floor by the front door. He just might've gone crazy in prison, considering he was pretty sure he could spot the layer of dust on each and every surface.

Your things mixed with his own. A blanket he doesn't remember ever purchasing in a crumpled ball on the couch, your laptop sitting awkwardly atop his own on his desk. But you weren't there. He could literally tell from the lack of movement happening in the space, and the fact that your bag wasn't situated anywhere his eyes could see. He also just knew you wouldn't be here. He hadn't spoken to you in three months, not even through words on a page. He was sure he'd not want to talk to you either, if the roles were reversed.

He wants you here, regardless.

He doesn't like his apartment without you in it. It's dull, and he's too on edge to do anything about it. Letting the oppressive air suffocate him in his new position on the couch, veins still peeking through his cold skin even as his hands sweat from your blanket he had wrapped them in. It smelled of you, and it was the closest comfort he could find in an otherwise discomforting time.

He wants you here.

Dinner was a steaming plate of nothing. No food he could eat without being sick sitting in any of his cupboards, for his appetite had grown bland during his time in prison, and you were not a plain crackers eater. He misses your cooking dearly. He misses your rambling about the different spices you were trying out that evening.

He wants you here.

His shower was cold. Icy water to rinse the running sweat from his constantly uneasy state. No shampoo, despite how badly his curls needed to be treated nicely again. It was shampoo you had bought for him; shampoo you had lathered through his hair time and time again as you taught him how to take care of his curls to keep them pretty, as you had said. The smell now made him sick.

He wants you here.

His bed remained untouched. The indent of where your head lay in his pillows still there, sheets and duvet wrinkled from your no doubt hurried job at making it that morning. He refused to get into it. Instead, he curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed, like a dog guarding the piece of furniture. His knees at his chest, arms around his legs. Positioned in a ball to keep him as small as possible, probably. Exhaustion never came, and his brain never silenced. He spent who knows how long staring at the doorway, out into his living room, thinking. Longing. Ruminating.

He needs you here.

Sunlight was peeking into his apartment through the blinds. Which he hadn't really noticed until he tore his eyes away from the medullary rays he was intensely studying, at the sound of his front door creaking open. He didn't say anything as he heard the familiar noise of your charm adorned bag rattling in the space. In fact, he almost smiled at it. He might've, if not for the aching hole in his chest.

He had no idea if you knew he was coming home until he heard your breath hitch. You were still far away, standing by the back of his couch, your hand halfway through tugging your hair out of its ponytail. Frozen in time once you had spotted him, confirming that no. You had no idea Spencer Reid was coming home today.

It was an awkward back and forth of breaths, and eye contact that he couldn't break even if he wanted to. You were real, and you were here, and even though you were staring at him with a heart shatteringly broken expression, he felt relief heat his glacial veins. You had not turned on your heel and sprinted away from him, and you were not screaming at him either.

He watched your muscles relax and your brain seemingly sink back into your body as the initial shock wore off, your feet now carrying your body over to his position on the floor.

He untangled his limbs before you reached him, grimacing at the ache in all his joints, ignoring the stickying feeling of the wound in his thigh reopening, blood coating his pants once more.

You didn't ignore it.

Nor did you say anything. Clocking the deep red stain on his otherwise white sweatpants, and disappearing into his ensuite to collect his first aid kit and a cloth. He couldn't count on his hands how many times you had stitched him up after he had come home from a case throughout all these years, the act awfully habitual by now. Yet, he was carefully watching your every move like it was the first time, responding to every signal you gave him to move or still.

Delicate fingers that brushed against his thigh encouraged goosebumps onto his skin, his sweatpants now in a heap on the floor next to your two bodies. His legs stretched across your crossed ones, a quiet, "Sorry," being the first word you said to him, as he winced at the gauze pressing against the open wound.

He murmured back an, "It's okay," while your hands wrapped a bandage around the limb, your heart rate increasing with fluster as you felt his gaze locked onto your face.

You aren't sure what to say to him after you finish dressing the injury, and so you stand up, heading towards his closet to pull out a fresh pair of pants for him to wear instead. You weren't quite sure if he actually wanted to speak to you. For three months, you were convinced he didn't.

He did want to be near you though, you learned. Trailing after you like a lost puppy as you moved through the motions of your post work routine silently. You didn't argue about it, even as he sat in the bathroom while you showered, or watched you intently as you boiled water in the kettle, and made a cup of tea for yourself and him. You didn't ask if he wanted one, and he was eternally grateful you had done it anyways.

Two cups of tea sat domestically on the coffee table, a sight you had sorely missed throughout these past weeks. He was curled up on the couch, his head in your lap, your fingers entangled in messy curls and balancing your focus between his unsteady breathing, and the old cartoon you had put on for visual stimulation in the space.

A conversation was needed to be had. One you most certainly did not want to have. You broke the silence to begin it, anyways.

"I wasn't allowed to go see you."

If not for the words themselves, then the cracking of your voice and the obvious heaviness of a sob lodged in your throat broke his heart even more. He had a lot of practice recently in being quiet voluntarily, and yet he was truly at a loss for words right now.

"I know," he decides on saying. "I kept you off the list."

"Why?"

The explanation felt incredibly meaningless now. It had at least made sense three months ago. And, worse than that, it was an unfair reason. He should not have decided for the both of you your limitations on seeing him based on insecurities.

"I didn't want you to see me like that," he admits, each word heavy on his tongue, for he could feel the way your fingers stilled in his hair, and he was sure your shoulders had just deflated.

You swallow down your snarky defence, knowing it wasn't helpful or even worth it right now. Instead, you nod your head, silently, and take a few beats to decide how to respond to him.

"I just wanted to see you," you whisper, eyes transfixed on the television screen, though your attention was anywhere but. "Just once, Spencer. JJ wouldn't even give me updates on how you were doing."

His throat bobs, and you look down at him, unsurprised to see his eyes studying your face already.

"I know. I asked her not to. I didn't want you to worry any more than you already were."

You knew he wouldn't do well in prison. If not for how mind numbingly boring it would've been for a brain as active as his, then for how unsafe he would've been as a federal employee. Everyday, you feared the phone calls you received from any of his colleagues, waiting for the one to inform you of his death within those concrete walls.

To know he was doing so bad he didn't even want you to know about it was quite possibly worse than any fear you had had the entire time he was in prison.

"I pretended to write to you," he informs you, quietly. "It kept me sane. Writing letters, even though you'd never receive them."

"Do you still have them?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay."

He hates how small you sound in your response. He hates himself for throwing away those letters. They may not have been the most pleasant, but they were an insight into his life during prison. One he was sure you were keenly interested in. Never mind the confessions of love he had jotted down. Daily. Reminding himself over and over what he was surviving for. Who he was surviving for.

"I made a friend this week," he says. "I think he's a friend. He used to be in the Bureau too. We bonded over that and books. He got me my own cell, next to his. We've been playing chess. He's kept me being a federal employee quiet, and kept me safe."

The confusion that had originally swept across your face settled upon realising what he was doing, and your lips twitched upwards. Grateful once more for his eidetic memory.

"I read As You Like It today. I'm not sure if you've read it, or any of Shakespeare's works. I don't know how I've never asked that. I wish I had. I will if I get out of here. I think you'd like Rosalind. She's hilarious. She reminds me a bit of you. She has an entire monologue scolding someone because she doesn't love a man who loves her dearly, while simultaneously berating that man for being a shepherd."

"I read Romeo and Juliet in high school," you say, staring down at him, and his chest puffs in a small laugh. Your heart swells in your own.

"I miss you everyday," your smile falls again at his words, as does his own, and you instead feel your stomach sink into the same inextinguishable black hole that permanently resided there. "I'll get out of here one day. Even if it's in twenty years. I selfishly hope you never move on if it takes that long. I'll be okay if you do. I love you."

"How many more do you have?" you ask him, fingers trailing down his face, tracing gentle patterns on the skin absentmindedly, for your mind was busy whirring about your first introduction to his time in prison.

"If I think hard enough, all of them," he answers. "It's hard to focus on much right now."

"That's okay," you say, chewing on your lower lip, staring at the two half drunk teas in front of you. "You don't have to tell me another one now."

He only nods his head, and you can only be silent from then on, unsure of what else to say to him that isn't a plead for what you had missed over three months of no contact.

He encourages you to move to his bedroom after his body falls asleep on you once, before jolting awake after only a few seconds. You comply, and intertwined fingers drag him to the bed you had become exceedingly familiar with.

He had never felt like a child in the present his whole life. Only ever when he looked back on the years before did he truly recognise he was young. Too young to have lost his dad. Too young to be solely responsible for his mother's health care. Too young to be battling a drug addiction. Every key moment in his life was a violent reminder of how fast he was forced to grow up. Simultaneously, he was unable to stop the time from passing.

And yet, as you cradled his head in your hands against your chest in his bed, your heartbeat providing him a welcome comfort that you were alive and he was with you, he felt like a child. He felt too young, and, for the first time in his life, he did not feel intelligent enough to deal with any of this.

He had caught a glimpse of his twelve year old self attending high school when he first arrived in prison. A small fish lost in an ocean of sharks. Here, he ponders whether or not that version of himself ever actually left his body, or if he was simply twelve years old and navigating this adult life fraudulently.

"I don't know how to deal with this," he whispers into the air.

He despises the way your caressing hand stops. Though, he doesn't mention it.

"Time, I guess," you murmur, chest rumbling against his head.

"I hate time."

"Yeah," you agree, quietly. "Time is the best healer, though."

"I hate that idiom."

"You suddenly hate a lot of things?" you ask, eyebrows shooting up.

"Mm," he nods his head, and exhales a sharp breath of air. "Not you."

A quip manifests on your tongue, but you bite it down, unsure if he will actually comprehend your humour right now. "That's good. I don't hate you either."

Silence settles over your bodies, though, unlike the air when he had entered the night before, it's much more pleasant.

He breaks the quiet with a whisper. "Thank you for not being mad at me. I'm sorry I didn't let you come see me."

You want to say you're mad at him for the sake of the principle. It wasn't fair, and the way you had felt during those three months was neglected and uncared for. But then the man you had been upset with had come home, and you're very quickly learning his reasons for it all. Anger dissipates quickly when it comes to Spencer Reid, you've found.

You also believe if you had seen him the way he is now, but without the ability to hold him the way you are, and a piece of glass separating your bodies, you'd probably be a lot less composed.

"It's okay," you mumble. "Thank you for not making me see you like that."

He only nods his head as a response.

He fell asleep sometime after your last comment, and you allowed yourself the time to finally look at him intensely.

His skin was bruised. Purple and yellow painting the skin all over, and you fought the urge to search for all the other marks all over his body. You were already blinking back tears; you weren't sure how much more you could handle.

Quietly, as your hands drop from the contusions on his face to your sides, you whisper earnestly, "I love you too."

And as his breathing hitches for only a moment, you're sure he hears you, even while asleep.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid x reader hurt/comfort #spencer reid x you

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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

Text

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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izadi234 · 1 month ago

Text

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (You're here)

Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 2

The moment you retreated to your room Alfred's gaze hardened as he looked at the kitchen door through which you had left.

With a sigh he returned to making breakfast, however, something couldn't stop going around in his head.

Why?

Why do you have to leave?

Why do you have to leave ME?

He doesn't blame you. Your "family" has done nothing but ignore you and push you aside on more than one occasion since you arrived at Wayne Manor. And if it weren't for him, Bruce wouldn't have remembered to pay for your needs and education.

No. He could never blame you for your decision, but he can blame Bruce and your brothers. He had never felt such anger for them, not even when Martha and Thomas died at the hands of that cruel man. But that never had a solution, but this did. His family has a solution and he was going to fix it for you and for you. To always have his ray of sunshine at his side.

He wasn't going to lose you without having fought a war.

But for now, he had to stay calm. He sighed once more and finally relaxed as he served breakfast on the plates. He has to talk to Duje after you told him about your decision.

He had to think with a cool head. As he had told Bruce many years ago: "Fear doesn't make you think clearly" and not only was he scared of his little ones going out into the world alone, he also had anger built up. And he was going to use those two feelings to his advantage.

It was not for nothing that he was a very feared soldier during the war.

You were in your room as usual texting with a friend when Duke knocked on your bedroom door before coming in.

"Hey (name)!" said Duke happily who sat on your bed while you sat at your desk

"Oh hey Duke!" you greeted him with a smile anyway "How was school today?"

"A little boring, but at least it's Friday now" he chuckled

"And you? How was your day?"

It's now or never.

You sighed and got up from your spot to sit next to him on your bed.

"I have something to tell you Duke…" you put a hand on his shoulder

"And what is it?" He asked worriedly seeing your seriousness "Don't tell me it's something bad"

"No, it's nothing bad. At least I don't consider it bad" you started to say "But, Duke, I've decided to move out of the mansion"

"…What?…" he said in a quiet tone of voice surprised by your words

No, it can't be…

"I know it's sudden, but I can't stand this place" you sighed "I want- No, I need to start over without being in the shadow of others"

You turned to look at him and caressed his cheek.

"But this doesn't mean we won't see each other again. We'll be able to talk and keep in touch" you offered him a smile

Without saying anything, Duke hugged you and nestled his head in the crook of your neck. You put a hand on his neck and caressed him.

"Just… Don't forget about me…" he said after a few minutes of silence.

He pulled away from you and wiped away some tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

"I could never do that, brother," you wiped one of his eyes with your thumb.

After that emotional conversation, you and Duke spent the afternoon in your room talking and watching movies on your laptop. However, Duke's mind was still on that conversation.

There was no chance that you would leave him. He had to find a way to prevent you from leaving his side.

The week you moved went by so fast that when you realized it, you were already taking the last box with your belongings out of the mansion.

You looked back at that mansion one last time and felt like that little kid again who arrived with fear and excitement to what he would call home for years. But soon your face darkened as you remembered the suffering you had experienced there. Without thinking twice, you turned around and got on your motorcycle, but not before securing your last box. You started the bike and left Wayne Manor.

You hadn't said goodbye to Alfred nor Duke but you left a letter on both of their beds wishing each of them the best, thanking them for everything and giving them the phone number of your second cell phone in case they needed something or just wanted to check on you. However, you didn't leave anything else, not even an address. You wanted to completely erase the Waynes from your life, you wanted to erase the fact that you were a Wayne too. You wanted to forget them so much that you turned off the cameras in the mansion for a period of time so you could take out your things in peace, so that no one would see the license plates of your motorcycle that you had been keeping at a friend's house and whose motorcycle was registered.

If nothing else, you had developed the same paranoia as Bruce and decided to take every measure to avoid being located. You even thought about going to live in Metropolis or Star City but the rent and sale of apartments there were much more expensive than in Gotham. Maybe when you earn more money once you finish college.

But for now focus on your present.

Before it is taken away from you.

When you got to your apartment you let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding. You looked around, there were some pieces of furniture that came with the apartment like a leather armchair that was a little worn but looked pretty new, a wooden bookcase, several coffee tables, some pots and kitchen stuff. The only thing you had to buy was your bed but your best friend did you the favor of giving you a headboard for your bed as a gift of independence and you only bought a mattress. It wasn't as comfortable as the one you had in the mansion but at least you had things you could consider yours. NOT thanks to Wayne, but thanks to your efforts.

You put the box on the kitchen counter and before going to your room you saw several boxes.

Damn... You hadn't thought about how lazy you were going to be when you had to unpack.

That same day you left, Alfred had returned from going grocery shopping. At that time of the morning you and he used to spend the morning together, while you were in your online classes, he did the housework along with the food. Between the breaks you had between classes you used to go see what he was doing in the kitchen and you were his personal taster.

Now that you were on vacation, you spent more time with him because Bruce, Tim and sometimes Damian went to Wayne Enterprises, Dick and Jason weren't usually at the mansion and Duke, Cass and Stephanie were training in the Batcave or with their friends. For that same reason Alfred was alarmed when he called your name and you didn't answer.

He quickly went up to your room only to find it completely empty. His heart raced and he started to sweat lightly.

You couldn't have left so quickly, right?

He went down again and checked all the rooms in the big mansion and found nothing. Only his own room was missing. As he entered he could see an envelope of your favorite color on his pillow. He approached and read it.

In the letter you apologized for not saying goodbye to him in person but if you did you were more than sure that you wouldn't be able to leave. You also left him a private cell phone number where he could call you and you wished him all the best.

It had been a long time since Alfred felt the need to cry but without realizing it he had already shed a few tears. He couldn't believe that his little one was already gone.

After having shed a few tears, he quickly wiped his eyes and composed himself. No, he couldn't cry because you were going to return. He was sure of that.

However, he would let you enjoy your independence a little before implementing his plan for you to return home to your family. With him.

But first he'll have to talk with Duke.

Helloooo! I hope you liked the second chapter! If you did leave a heart and i'll see you in the next one. I kind of think this chapter is kind of bland but the story is just begining. This are the first impressions of you leaving the Manor but soon enough the rest of the family will appear.

Thanks you for reading!

-Izadi <3

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@eyeless-kun

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not-neverland06 · 27 days ago

Note

Hii ! I was hoping you could do Logan x Reader where all the teachers go to a club, and the Reader starts dancing with Storm and Jean while Logan is sitting on a couch, looking at her. They both have a crush on each other, but they don't know it, so when the Reader notices Logan staring at her, she gets shy and decides to go get a drink. When she got her drink, a guy starts flirting with her, and Logan obviously sees it. he gets jealous and walks up to the guy telling him to leave her alone. After they talk for a bit, the Reader accidentally confesses and Logan kisses her. this ends up in a private room with Logan fucking her as he always wanted. I know this is a long request and I'm sorry for that, bue I'm a writer myself, so I already had develop this bit of the story in my head. I completely understand if you don't want to do it. Hope you have an awesome day !!🤗❤️ Love your writing btw

a/n: I loved this prompt so much, did switch it up a bit bc I faced a bit of writer's block trying to flesh this out!! (and if I said I was listening to Thong Song while writing this, what then?)

18+ MDNI (fucking in a club bathroom, if that's not your thing, move on out)

Logan rummages around somewhere behind you, digging through the cabinets and moving everything around. The longer he searches, the more confused you grow. Your brows furrow as he cusses to himself.

There’s a low grunt of frustration as Logan rounds the kitchen island to glare at you. His face is screwed up in anger that seems to be misdirected towards you. You give him an awkward look, “Uh, hi?”

“He stole my booze,” he responds shortly and without explanation. You shake your head in confusion as the dots slowly connect. A small smile curls up on your lips but the glare he gives you makes it quickly drop.

“Well, you know Charles' rules about it,” you tell him flippantly. Logan huffs and shoves away from the counter. He turns back to the fridge, destroying the organizational system as he continues his search. You roll your eyes, eating your food and watching him with a bored expression.

Jean walks just as he really begins to work himself up. Her face pinches in distaste, catching on to the root of his anger quicker than you had. She looks at you with a small smirk. “Charles?”

“Yep," You answer, eyes still trained on him. He finally gives up the futile search, moving to stand beside you. Your eyes widen and you try not to physically react to his proximity. It’s an everyday struggle to remain calm around him. You’re desperately trying to keep a cool girl persona but you don’t think it's working.

You’re pretty sure he sees right through your pathetic attempts at nonchalance every time you two are paired on a mission. Jean notices the look on your face and smiles slightly. “The rest of us are thinking of going out tonight.”

It's not an offer with her, more of a demand for the two least sociable members of the team. She gives you both expectant looks, ignoring the way you minutely shake your head in disapproval at the idea of going out.

“Pass,” Logan grunts. He steps away from you, making for the kitchen door. Jean quickly steps in front of him, firmly placing her hand on his chest and giving him a stern look.

You feel like you're missing something as they silently converse with tense looks and aggressive eye motions towards you. You might be worried they're flirting if it weren't for how fed up they both look right now with one another.

Your brows furrow in confusion and it only worsens when Logan lets out an aggrieved huff. “Fine. I’ll come.” He gives Jean a thin smile, “Happy?”

She releases him and moves out of the way with a smug look. “Very. You’ll thank me, by the way.” She says to his retreating back, ignoring whatever he mutters back to her.

You’re completely lost about what that was but don't have much time to process it before Jean turns her attention to you. You already know what she wants and you immediately shake your head. “No, nope, you know I don’t like going out.” Jean smiles at you, but you know she’s just pretending to agree with you.

“Jean,” your voice is sharp as you glare at her. “Not happening.”

You really regret ever befriending her. She’s either ridiculously persuasive or she's used her mind-warping abilities on you.

You're squished between Ororo and Logan on a sticky club booth. The smell of booze and cheap perfume soaks through your senses. You feel the beginnings of a headache forming as the music pounds.

While you love the feeling of Logan's biceps pushed up against you, you hate the club more. Storm catches the tense look on your face and sighs in disappointment.

"We need to get some more alcohol in you," she tells you with a faux sense of authority. "Come on," she nods her head and for a moment you think she's talking to you. But, with a move that seems practiced, Scott and Jean both follow her out of the booth and head toward the bar.

You watch them go with a suspicious glint in your eye, not trusting how smoothly they all just conveniently slipped away. That leaves just you and Logan behind at the table and you doubt that's coincidental.

They've been a little pushy about this crush of yours ever since they found out. They insist that he feels the same way about you as you do him. But you sincerely doubt he's fantasizing about going on romantic picnics with you and thinking of mushy dates.

He seems like the kind of guy to value silence over a girlfriend and you doubt you're his type. You don't tend to stray from the rules, ever. You don't think there's much you two have in common, as much as the others insist the opposite.

You give him a subtle look over. He hasn't moved away from you, which seems like a good sign. There's plenty of space for him to go now, but he keeps himself pressed up against you.

But, he's also not looking at you. His thumb is idly tracing the rim of his glass and he's refusing to take his eyes off the stained wood of the table. You know he can feel the way you're staring at him, but he's stubbornly refusing to acknowledge your presence. It almost feels petty and that makes you scoff and roll your eyes at the thought. You doubt Logan cares enough to be petty.

Practically in love with me, you think sarcastically.

You know your friends are taking longer than necessary at the bar, trying to give the two of you some privacy. You feel like a high school girl, trying to get the cool guy to like her when he literally couldn’t give two shits.

Your friends being pushy about the two of you really isn't helping anything. It only gives you false hope, and when he's inevitably a jerk again, it just makes all your little fantasies come crashing down.

You pick up your glass, tipping your head back and letting the alcohol warm you from the inside out. You've done your hair, spent forever doing your makeup, and you put on your favorite slutty dress. You don't feel like sitting here all night sulking alongside your unrequited crush.

More often than not, Logan is nothing more than a wet blanket. You've put in the effort and dragged yourself outside for once, you'd like to enjoy the experience. He could come find you when he felt like pulling the stick out of his ass. You slide out of the booth with a huff, uncaring as the hem of your dress rolls up your thighs.

“Where’re you going?” Logan demands, voice gruff. Now he wants to pay attention, figures.

You turn around and glare down at him. His eyes rove slowly over you, the way they should have been all night. His gaze is a physical caress and his stare lingers along your body. You can practically feel his touch on the curves of your hips. Slowly, he looks back up to meet your eye, something like a challenge on his face.

You assess him, raising a brow and shrugging. “I’m gonna dance.” Something has possessed you or there’s a very talented telepath manipulating you right now. In a rare display of confidence you lean over the table, breasts pushed out towards him. “Wanna join me?” You ask, breath barely above a whisper.

He scoffs and goes back to glaring at the table. Whatever confidence you had settles coldly in the bottom of your gut. “Not my thing, kid,” he gripes, every bit the crotchety old man.

You roll your eyes, playing off the sting of rejection as an annoyance. “Of course, you’re not. You’re not having fun unless everyone else is miserable,” you snap. His eyes shoot up to meet yours, something like shock playing on his face.

You don’t let him respond, already turning on your heel and walking off. As much as you like Logan, sometimes this attitude of his becomes tiring. What’s wrong with wanting to have fun for a night?

You’re not usually a huge fan of clubs. But when you’re out with your friends, you’re not going to actively ruin their night. As rude as that was, it’s right. He’s the “cool” kid in high school who thought everything was lame and never wanted to enjoy anything.

So, what? You like to get a little drunk and sloppy sometimes, maybe if he ever tried it he might be less miserable. You head towards the bar, spotting Ororo’s hair easily through the crowd. You slide behind her, slipping your arm over her shoulder, “Hey pretty,” you whisper in her ear, laughing as she jumps.

She turns and glares at you, swatting at your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t hurt you.”

“Ooh, save it for later.” She rolls her eyes and passes you a shot. You take it with a smile, wincing at the burn of the tequila. “You wanna dance?” You have to shout to be heard over the music but you know she hears you when her eyes widen in surprise.

She glances behind you and you don’t have to look to know Logan is glaring daggers at your back. You can feel him and it's pissing you off. “What happened?” You know she can tell something is up, you’re never this outgoing when you go out. But you don’t want to talk about finally coming to terms with the fact that you and Logan aren’t going to work out.

Instead, you hold your hand out and wink. “Wanna dance or not?” She laughs a little, slipping her palm into yours and letting you drag her out onto the dance floor. It’s been a while since you’ve actually been sober dancing. You usually like to be near blackout drunk, but you just don’t have the energy for that tonight.

Ororo is a little tipsier than you, clearly having been drinking while she was waiting at the bar. Her inhibitions are looser and she’s giggling as you move your hips against hers. Neither of you is dancing to impress, you’re messily moving around each other to the beat of the music. You don’t pay attention to the people around you, just having fun by yourselves.

Ororo takes your hand, spinning you a little and pulling you back into her arms. You laugh, swaying your hips to the same rhythm she is, chests pressed tightly together while you smile at each other.

She only lasts a few songs before she pulls back. “I need a drink,” she yells before stumbling back towards the bar. You feel yourself deflate, not sure what to do with yourself now that your favorite dancing partner has ditched you.

You look through the mass of grinding bodies and try and spot your table. You can’t see much through the brightly colored lights spinning all around you. Everything’s a little disorienting and the shots you’ve had aren’t helping.

Someone’s hand slips around your waist, “Your friend left you all alone?” Normally, you’d push whoever it was off and tell them to back off. But he’s got an attractive voice and you can feel how fit he is against your back.

“You gonna keep me company?” You tease, voice a low purr as you push back against him. Your hands drift down to his arms, pulling them a little tighter around your waist. He chuckles, the noise reverberating through your back.

You barely even get a chance to dance before your back is cold and you can feel his arms forcibly ripped off you. It doesn’t take much digging to find the culprit. Logan is behind you, hand fisted in the guy’s collar, “Why don’t you back off, bub?” He shoves him back and you roll your eyes as the guy scrambles off.

“What the hell was that?” You demand arms crossed as you glare at Logan.

He turns around and you’re surprised at the intensity of his glare. Something about it has you heated for an entirely different reason. He’s staring down at you like he’s gonna pounce on you. Your heart races, thighs clenching the longer he’s glowering at you.

He shouldn’t be allowed to be so attractive when he’s pissed off. He reaches forward, grabbing your bicep and jerking you into his chest. He leans down until his lips are brushing against your ear. “You wanna dance, let’s dance, kid.”

“What-”

He cuts you off, flipping you around and pulling your back flush against him. You can feel just how much your little show with Storm got him going. You truly weren’t doing anything too alluring, but it seems to be enough for him.

When you don’t move his hands drop to your hips and he grinds them down against him. “Logan,” you gasp his name out, caught off guard by how brazen he’s being in the middle of the club. There are people around you doing much worse but you’ve never known him to be this bold before.

“You trying to make me jealous?” It’s hard to pay attention to what he’s saying, to focus on anything at all when his hand is drifting steadily down your body. The tips of his fingers just barely brush the skin of your thigh while his thumb lets the hem of your dress curl up.

He flips you around, taking his hands off of you and instead tilting your chin up to face him. “I said,” he repeats in a condescending tone, “were you trying to make me jealous?” He doesn’t sound like he’s taking you seriously. Even if that was your intention, he thinks it’s just your petty way of lashing out at him for not dancing.

You narrow your eyes at him and swat his hands off of you. “No. I wasn’t trying to make you jealous. I was trying to have some fun since you’re clearly not interested at all.”

That insufferable smirk of his doesn’t go away for a minute. If anything, he’s more incensed by your anger. “Who said I wasn’t interested?” Your lips part, another dumb little noise about to slip out when he dips down and stops you.

He’s not trying to be subtle at all, gripping your dress and tugging you up against him while your lips lock. His tongue dips briefly into your mouth, savoring the taste of tequila on your gums before he pulls back.

“I’m interested in you, kid, just not this shitty little club.” Your mouth is gaping and you feel like a fool, standing there and just staring at him. Your brain is completely scrambled, bits and pieces forming together to scream that he kissed you. Too many things are happening at once. The music is making the floor beneath you vibrate, liquor is warming you from the inside out and tilting you closer to him. And he kissed you. Your lips are still tingling from it.

He chuckles a little under his breath, keeping you moving steadily against him. You’re simply something to be puppeteered by your desire for him. No thoughts linger inside your brain except his name. “You’re interested in me?” You repeat dumbly.

He leans down, tilting his lips closer towards your ear. “You can’t feel how much I want you?” One of your thighs is practically draped over his leg and he’s grinding his hips against you. The only thing you can feel is him. The smell of his cologne overpowers all the bodies surrounding you both, his voice drones out the loud music around you. You’re completely consumed by him.

“Logan,” your tone is scandalized, you can’t believe he’s bold enough to have you nearly half-naked on his lap right now. Your butt is one wrong move away from being the club’s newest attraction. Yet, despite every protest lingering on your tongue, you can’t do anything except kiss him again.

You don’t know if the moment is all one vivid wet dream your brain has conjured up at three am and you don’t feel like finding out. You want to enjoy being risky for once. You always play everything so safely. You don’t confess your feelings to Logan so you aren’t rejected. You never break the rules, you never act out. Just once, you want to do something bad and enjoy it.

Your arms twine around his neck and you tilt your head to deepen the kiss further. You feel his reaction more than you hear it. A low grumble in his chest that has you practically vibrating with want. He pulls away from you first and it takes a moment for your eyes to flutter back open.

When you finally do meet his gaze again, he’s got nothing but a smoldering desire in his eyes that makes you want to melt. He’s staring you down like you’re prey to be chased and consumed. “Can’t do this here,” he mutters.

You’re almost shocked that he’s the first one to cut this off. You knew it was going to happen, you can’t exactly fuck in the middle of the dance floor. As much as you might want to. But you thought you would be the one to chicken out.

He grabs your hand and shoves through the throng of grinding bodies. You grab the back of his shirt, stumbling after him and trying to stay close. “As much as I’d like to make that poor son of a bitch watch me fuck you, we need a little more privacy.”

It takes you a moment to realize he’s talking about the man you’d danced with earlier. If you could even qualify that as dancing. He’d barely put his hand on your waist before Logan had appeared out of nowhere.

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and you glare at his back. How had he even gotten to you so quickly? He must have been watching you like a creep the whole time. You almost want to laugh at the thought. But you’re distracted by him nudging you through a door and locking it behind you.

You glance around, spotting three sinks and some cracked mirrors. Toilet stalls linger to your right and your nose wrinkles in disgust. You turn around to complain but he’s already stalking toward you. Whatever sanitary complaints were lingering in the back of your throat are thrown out the sealed bathroom window.

He buries his hands in your hair, ruining the meticulously placed style. You arch into his hold, opening your mouth for him to explore and gasping as his hand drops to your hips. He tugs you closer, ripping your dress up and yanking your underwear down in one smooth move.

You barely have a second to process half of what’s happening before he’s got you bent over the sink. It’s all happening so fast, so many different desires of yours surging to the surface in one dingy club bathroom.

You’re slick with months of fantasies and sleepless nights where not even your vibrator could curb your desire for him. You hear his belt clink behind you and your back arches like a cat in heat. You practically present yourself to him, so desperate to feel him that you don’t care how much of a slut you’re being.

You know, if this was anyone else, you’d slap them for even suggesting the bathroom as the first place you have sex. But you’d have let Logan take you in the alley behind the club. You don’t care where you are, just so long as it's with him. And you know that desire runs a bit deeper than just a surface-level crush.

He doesn’t give you much warning as he thrusts into you. The breath is practically punched out of you as he fills you. Everything about it feels right. You’re so full of him you feel like you could explode. You know it’s going to take a pathetically short time for you to come. It’s just too much, too fast, you’re so overwhelmed by him.

“Oh god, Logan,” the porcelain creaks under your palms before you feel it splintering off into your skin. You can’t pay attention to it, though, jaw agape, capable of nothing more than slutty moans of his name.

He’s relentless behind you, thrusting so hard inside you that it feels like a punishment. He fists his hand in your hair and forces you to look in the mirror. “Come on, want you to see how wrecked you are. What a fucking slut you’re being for me, letting me fuck you like this in this bar.”

Your mascara is completely ruined, streaked down your face with your lipstick smeared across your chin. You look like a fucking mess and you couldn’t care less. You feel yourself fluttering around him the tighter his grip on you is. His hand slips from your hair, latching around your neck and tugging you into his chest.

He grips your chin and keeps your eyes on where the two of you are joined in the mirror. It only makes you clench tighter around him, watching as he moves in and out of you. You can see just how much of an effect you're having on him and it’s the biggest ego boost you’ve ever had in your life.

You’ve reduced him to a mess in a dirty club bathroom, so desperate for you he couldn’t even wait to take you home. He tilts his hips, hitting the spot inside you that has your eyes nearly rolling in the back of your head.

You whisper his name in warning, letting go of the sink to clutch tightly at his wrist. He wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you secured against him. His hips start to stutter, losing some of their rhythm the tighter you are around him. The feeling builds in your fingers, tingles down to the tips of your toes, and explodes in a nearly blinding pleasure. His hips are still against you, warmth filling you a moment later.

You would slump forward into the sink if it weren’t for his protective hold around your stomach. He keeps you tight against his chest for a minute, waiting for you to catch your bearings again. It takes an embarrassingly long time for the feeling in your legs to come back. You’ve never had such an intense experience like that.

You don’t know if it's from the thrill of possibly getting caught or just because you were with him. You’ve longed and lusted after Logan for so long, and finally having the real thing is a bit of shock. Especially when he exceeded your fantasies, you didn’t even know that was possible.

He props you against the sink, tugging your dress down and pulling your underwear back up. You watch him with dulled interest, still reeling from what you’ve just done. You’ve never been so bold before, it almost feels liberating to just say ‘fuck it’ and do what you want.

He pulls his own pants back up, fixing his belt and grabbing a wet paper towel for you. He’s silent as he wipes the mascara of your cheeks and you give him a questioning look. “You want the others to know what happened?”

You scoff and glance away from him, looking towards the door of the bathroom. “I’m sure they already know. Weren’t exactly subtle,” you tell him with a small smile.

He smirks, tossing the towel away and walking back towards you. He keeps his arms on either side of you, bracketing you against the sink and grinning down at you. “No, we weren’t, were we?”

You shake your head silently, lips curled up in amusement. Your eyes briefly dart to his lips before meeting his eyes once more. He catches the look with a sly smile, dipping his head down and giving you a brief kiss.

It’s short and sweet, more loving than the passionate, rip-my-clothes-off kisses from before. It feels like the type of kiss a married couple would share in the early morning when they only want to remind the other they love each other. Your proximity and the look he’s giving you feel more intimate than anything that just happened.

“You really meant it?” You muse, voice barely above a whisper as you smile at him.

“Meant what?” He mutters.

“You like me,” you tease, entangling your hand with his and tugging him even closer to you.

He gives you a confused look, glancing at the sink behind you and then back at your disheveled form. “Did I not make that clear enough, kid?”

You shake your head, “No, I think I might need another reminder,” you tell him. It takes a moment for your words to click for him. You can see when it does, he gives you a small smile and shakes his head with an aggrieved sigh like you’re bugging him.

“Really making me work for it, huh?” You nod your head playfully, dragging him down towards you and bringing him into another kiss. You can deal with the line forming outside in a minute. You can push off your nosy friends’ questions for another day. Right now, it’s just you and him, finally doing what you’ve wanted since the moment you saw him.

General Taglist: @evasmlp ♡

Logan Taglist: @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte

@mrs-ephemeral @wolviesgirl @allllium @insomniachox @izbelross ♡

#anon #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader

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fillinforlater · 9 months ago

Text

On her jeans (Part 2 of 3)

Male Reader x Kim Minji, Pham Hanni (ft. Jisoo, Seungyeon, Seolhyun)

Length: 8018 words

Tags: You know what? How about no tags. Yes, really. This is very similar to the rest of the On her series, especially cuz it's a Part 2. Go have fun, I know you will have it ;)

TW: rushed editing, a terrible friend, nothing but sex matters

Inspiration: @sooyadelicacies

Credit: @sooyadelicacies for being a fantastic co-writer!

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part3-

(A/N: This fic has it all: from three cameos to rapid fire scene changes to betrayal to an all-time threesome combo. Have fun with these grown-ass women!)

"What the fuck, Unnie?"

"What?" Kazuha says, not even bothering to turn her attention to the young girl.

"He… I—"

The ballerina then turns around to see tears forming in Minji's eyes. This is how so many of them must have looked when the realization came crashing over them like a merciless tsunami. Did I really just do this? Is it worth it? Will he ever have enough?

"As he should." Kazuha's expression turns cold, uncaring. "I did exactly what you asked me to. I sent you to him. It looks like you weren't good enough for him. That's on you. If you can't stick it out, maybe you aren't cut out for all of this."

"What—do you really feel that way? Is that why you do it?" Minji sobs.

"At the start sure, but now I know: he is my whole world, all that I could need or want.

“I love him," Kazuha says with unflinching conviction.

"Really?" Minji shouts and Kazuha quickly shuts her up with a palm on her sore lips.

"Yes, really, and if you screw this up, I swear, I'll make your life a living hell." Kazuha looks around the long corridors of the Hybe building. She then removes her hand from Minji's lips and unexpectedly dives straight to the younger’s ear. "You can be a good girl for him, call him Master or Daddy and get your brains fucked out—but don't ever get in between us. When the time is right, I'll be the only one for him.

"Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Zuha-unnie."

"Good. Now, what did he say you need to do?"

A seemingly never ending, vicious cycle starts for Minji. She works her butt off, dances the entire day, goes through hours of meetings, recordings—and instead of going to bed every day, she takes every conceivable measure to go straight to your office.

She walks in, lays on the table and waits for you to finish a call. At first, it's a mystery who you are talking to, but she finds out that it's all kinds of producers, managers, executives and most importantly—idols.

"So how is everything going?" Jisoo dreamily asks from the other end of the line.

"Well, I almost fucked up,” you respond in all honesty and drop your pants. “I almost slipped and told one of the new prospects they reminded me of you."

Jisoo's face softens and smiles. It’s like you can hear every movement of her facial bones. "Oh? Care to tell me who? Is she prettier than I was back then?"

"Impossible," You say sincerely.

"You're sweet, but don't think you're off the hook for that little quick tryst you had with Jennie. Rosie's sad about it. You need to make it up to her. And you need to make it up to me too." Jisoo says the last part a bit forcefully and you imagine scrunches on her face to show you her seriousness.

"I know,” you sigh and rub a finger along Minji’s throat and cheeks without thinking about her or the incredible sensation of her skin. “I will, I will. I miss you."

"I know you do. You tell me every time we talk. I miss you too, Daddy.” That’s always how Jisoo finishes a long distance conversation. She wishes you were there, with a hand in her panties. She wants to moan your name into your ear, your actual name, and not scream it out when rubbing one out under some hotel bed sheets. But Jisoo will have to wait.

The moment you finish the call, you start to pull out your hard cock and press it into Minji’s wide open mouth. She makes sure to keep her lips moisturized at all times, but she can never be ready for the strong impact of your hips hitting her head and rocking her back and forth on the desk.

With every single one of those meetings, Minji's clothes become more revealing, to the point she gasps whenever she sees herself in a public mirror. People on the train start to watch her round ass bounce in short shorts, then in very short shorts, then in a miniskirt.

Minji wonders how she is able to push through this. Her sleep gets shorter, the training rougher, the meetings more intense—worst of all, you become more violent too. It all reaches a peak when Minji is unable to shower because otherwise she would be too late.

In her dirty, sweaty state, she sprints to your office and bursts through the door, just to be greeted by the sight of you roughly fucking—destroying—the huge ass of a familiar idol.

"You are fuck-ing late!" you growl and slam the bendover idol against the desk a final time. Minji hurries around the wooden monstrosity to get into her, by now well-known position. It is then that she realizes who you are fucking: Seungyeon, the former dancer of CLC.

"What are you?" you shout at Seungyeon and smack her ass hard.

"Your stupid, bubble-butt bitch, Master," she wails in a weird mix of pain and euphoria. She gets a tap on said bubble-butt with your cock.

"How do you want it, bitch?"

"Harder, Master."

"What are you going to get?"

"What Master wants."

"Exactly."

Minji lets her head hang off the edge, only a few inches away from where you annihilate Seungyeon's dignity and her asshole with your inches. Both you and the idol grunt like animals in heat, but for her it sounds blissful, for you more like work.

And so Minji lays there, drenched in sweat, and the weirdness of being forced to watch other people fuck never really fading. It's stranger the more she has seen or admired an idol. No matter who, everyone she saw has folded to you, and Seungyeon might be the most submissive. How she degrades herself and begs for you to ruin and spit on her—

"Good bitch, keep your ass gaping!"

Suddenly, the cock is on Minji's face and she looks past it in shock. Your expression, though a bit exhausted, remains stern.

"Open fucking wide, Minji," you command and Minji gulps. This cock has just been in Seungyeon's ass, maybe for hours, and though it looks spotless, she can't bring herself to—

Minji gasps and that is enough. You push against her lips, into her mouth and start to use it to 'clean' yourself—really, it is just training for Minji to trust you and accept your commands.

Though her first reaction was a gag of disgust, Minji has to admit to herself quickly that Seungyeon's ass on your cock tastes great. It's an embarrassing secret which she will never tell anyone.

You switch between the holes a couple more times before creaming Seungyeon. While Minji has her final cleaning session, you order the older idol to clean Minji's feet and calves off sweat.

No hesitation, Minji realizes, as Seungyeon does not leave out an inch of her skin.

Seungyeon isn't the only one showing complete devotion to you and your every order. You've had a few other idols over before or after Minji's throat-stretching. The young soon-to-be idol knew them, but they weren't the stars yet she saw in your profile list. The thought that you might have been bluffing with controlling the likes of Blackpink, aespa or Red Velvet crossed her mind, but they faded whenever she thought of Kazuha's success.

She wants that too, no, Minji wants to pass Kazuha and so she comes back to you, no matter how hard the companies’ training is fucking her. Then finally comes the day—actually, the day before the day.

The not-yet NewJeans member lays on your table. She returned from the final pre-debut meeting and was ready for you to quickly walk in and fuck her face, but you never came. For endless hours, the entire fucking night, Minji had to lay there and wait. She could've left at any time, but the gravity of this situation, this presumed test, pulled her down to the flat, wooden surface.

No matter how uncomfortable it got, she did not stand up. You could be around the corner at any second. The thought of her giving up right as you walk in gave Minji a weird mixture of fear and arousal, further amplified when she had to keep herself from falling asleep. A hand in her soaked panties, Minji played the fantasy out in her head:

You would walk in and find her asleep. Angry by her inability to follow orders and service her Master, you decide to punish her. When you find her panties wet, the desk covered in girl juice, you wouldn't hesitate to plunge into Minji's tight, virgin cunt and fuck her awake. It would hurt, but Minji wouldn't stop cumming!

She can't stop cumming, her fingers rub her clit to completion and now real juice runs down your desk. Minji is wide awake, but an hour later, she does it again, again, again, until you finally enter the room. Casually, as if Minji isn't completely spent and almost fully naked on your work desk.

The sparkle in her eyes is priceless. Out of all the crazy shit you pulled on this formerly innocent virgin, this was the task that broke her. You don't know the exact moment, but you will never forget this moment where you see her orbs and know that she is past her prostitute stage.

"This is actually impressive," you say with a coy smile while gently caressing Minji's forehead. "I see you... had fun last night?"

"Sorry, Master," Minji carefully apologizes and kisses your hand. "I made a mess."

"Don't worry, I'll call someone to clean it later. Now, get on your knees and show me what you have learned."

She is dizzy, barely able to stand, but luckily, Minji's place is at your feet, hands wrapped around your length. Her strokes are soft, careful, and she does not wait to use her tongue on you. After a minute, she sees the impatience in your look and uses her mouth. Quickly it’s wrapped around your tip and for the first time ever, Minji fucks her face on your cock.

"Oh, fuck!" you exclaim. There is some actual joy in that, especially when you can lazily put Minji's hair in a makeshift ponytail and watch her go down on your crotch in surprisingly quick succession. "This is good, this is fucking—great!

"Hold still."

Your heart pumps like crazy, but it's nothing compared to your hips which start to obliterate Minji's throat. Your cock bulges her visibly and she starts to shake. Usually, she'd have her teeth at spots where they don't belong, but at long last, she has learned.

She takes it well, like a slut should. Not yet one of your perfect sluts however. It's all a bit rushed; her debut, the training, the stretching. Considering this, she is definitely good and her gags sound delicious.

You pull out of her mouth. Minji triest to catch her breath, instead catches three of your fingers which you also use to fuck her mouth while locking eyes. The salty tears that stream from hers look so delicious and you love how, no matter how many chokes you force out of her, there is no fight or flight response. She takes it.

"Become sloppy, slut, get your drool out. I want to see you become a mess for your Master!"

Minji twitches. She is dazed, your fingers become glazed; then an avalanche spurts forth, of more tears and drool that starts to cover her chin and stain your floor. You want more, so you replace your fingers with your cock and fuck her throat again, never slowly, only hard and fast. At this point, the poor girl beneath you is dehydrated and the pool on her thighs and the tiles excessive. You stop.

"Fuck, this is what I mean. This is how you suck cock, Minji."

"G-glad you l-like it—Master."

"Go clean up your mess."

"Yes, Master."

When Minji goes down to lick and suck her saliva from the floor, you rest your shiny, polished shoe on her cheek and bask in the faint sun, dawning right before your office window.

"You will go home and sleep," you order firmly. "The only contact we will have is when you send me a video of you masturbating in your debut panties. Send me those panties in the mail, and you'll soon lift your first music show trophy."

Lean down after Minji has collected all the slick and press an unmistakable love bite right under her right breast. Minji mewls as you do so.

"The-they'll probably try to hide the mark, Master."

"Good." Pat her head. "No one can know what happened here."

"Of course, Master."

"You've been a good girl, Minji. Now go out there and become a bigger star than you could've ever dreamed of."

"Thank you, Master."

Months go by where Minji is mostly a concept for you, some asset to be discussed in meeting with your connections in HYBE. Rarely did she send a direct message to you—except for the video you asked for. It's nice that she didn't totally forget about you. After a busy day that calls for vacation and a nice, warm pussy on your cock, you turn on the TV to watch the most important year-end award show.

A quick scroll down your contact list, you pick someone you know is nearby, obedient and definitely warm. The calls with Seolhyun are never longer than ten seconds, because she knows she's got to be there for her Daddy.

"You ever miss this?" you ask her when she sits down on your cock, panties still around her ankles, jacket still hanging from her shoulders.

"The awards? Sometimes, but—oh fuck!” Seolhyun is interrupted by you thrusting upwards while you care more for the TV than her. “Yes, more Daddy. They are nothing compared to your cock, your touch, your love!"

Seolhyun tightens when she moans these words and you give her more of your touch, your thrusts, your cock. Soon she is bouncing in rhythm with it and begs for you to rub her clit. You won’t do so yet, would be boring if she’d get all the things that make her cum so easily.

"What do you think of her, Seolhyun?” You nod towards the screen as it captures Minji in all her beauty and on stage charisma. “Think she can capture the nation's heart like you once did?"

"Minji, right? I think so."

That is the first time Minji has been in your sight since when her face was pressed to the floor. She looks like a proper star, close to being a super star (their next song will guarantee it) and her attitude reflects that. Don't touch me, I'm better than you, get out of my way, who even are you? - you imagine how she feels towards these other, lesser known people around her.

Minji's dream came true and you were the pixy dust. Now you deem it the right time to get a hold of her. In between comebacks, right after all the award shows, she will have no excuses. Time to pay up, you text her, with a location, time and date while your finger disappears in Seolhyun’s asshole.

The day comes and you've checked into your favorite spa-hotel with excitement. The security and privacy here are top notch, or at least they are for you. See, it’s all about connections and here you have the best connections and can make sure that no rumors spread and that all information comes to you in no time. Minji will be here shortly and you've already painted the pictures of her naked body in your head, scenes where she undresses, spreads her legs and folds, begs for you to part her—

You hear the door open. From your seated position on the bed, you look expectantly at the entrance to the bedroom which Minji finds shortly after, her fluffy, thick jacket already falling from her shoulders.

"Hello, Master," she sultrily says with a smile. You reciprocate it.

"I see you've been doing great," you skip the greeting and walk over to her. A gentle push and the jacket fully falls off. Minji's outfit underneath is surprisingly thin for this season; there could be snowfall outside any day now and she runs around in a white crop and skinny denim.

"Those jeans look good on you." Stare down at her eyes while you check the quality of those mentioned jeans by fondling her butt, then her thighs and lastly her crotch. "Very expensive, HYBE is already paying you?"

"It's all the ads we do," Minji quickly responds, her breath halted while she does the unthinkable and moves your hand away from her crotch. "I... I never thought it would work so quickly."

"Yeah, it feels surreal, almost too quickly," you say with careful annoyance, unsure how to judge Minji's hand on your wrist holding you back from getting to feel more of her body.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Master, thank you very much~"

"You see, Minji..."

Her shoulders in your firm grasp, you move Minji to the next wall and position her in such a way that she is trapped and your knee is able to gradually push up against her covered pussy. The young girl tries to resist, she is suddenly flustered, oh how this should remind her of her success.

"... no one was ever this successful without a big commitment. Your commitments until now were nothing."

"Tha-that's why I'm here. Master, I'll suck your cock as much as you want, I'll let you deepthroat me hard, even for the entire night!"

You scoff and give Minji's cheek a quick, small slap. Your knee has now become the only pillar that keeps her upright. She has to balance and rub her slightly moistened folds on them so as to not to fall over.

"Sucking? Deep throating? Oh you're still so naive. No. You, Minji… belong to me. All of you, which means any hole. You are mine to use however I want."

"Wha—no!" She puts a hand on her cheek and looks at you with puppy eyes that beg so pathetically, like the thought that you took this deal seriously is a shocking reveal. You roll your eyes at her and find the top button of her jeans, but Minji starts to fight back with a loud, whiny voice.

"No, Master, you don't understand! Un-unlike all those other idols, I'm... I'm still a virgin. I don't want to lose it now, not here, not—"

"That is not up to you!"

Your shout halts time and space, only Minji's facial expression matters. She looks honest, absolutely in dread that it might happen at not the moment she wants it to. She cannot fathom giving you or anyone that control, she wants it special and precious and all those nonsense illusions. It's gut wrenchingly annoying but you will not go too far to break her now; you're too fond of her for that.

Call it your weakness and curse you for that.

"We had a deal."

"I-I know."

"And you don't want to fulfill it?"

"I'm sorry, Ma-Master, please don't—"

"Then offer me something equally valuable." Minji looks at you in confusion. You drop her from the wall and hand her your phone. "Put in the number of someone whose virginity I can take. They have to be your sacrifice, your warrantor, and they have to agree to the same contract.

"You will then come with her to me and will watch how I take her virginity. You will watch every fucking pump I put into her pussy. She will testify, she will call me Master and she will love it. That's your only way, you better bring me someone."

Minji clutches the cell phone, her life-line, her lever to the trolley problem, except the train that was about to hit her can only be directed at another girl.

"And Minji,” you add in controlled yet uncontrollable rage. “I want her here, now. I want someone worthy of my time and touch. Or else. You will call them and then you will be on your knees sucking my cock while we wait."

Sweat comes pouring down Minji's forehead. You can hear the inner workings of her brain scramble, trying to find someone she can push in between you and her. There is no submission to you and there is no urge to flee and break your deal.

Minji genuinely tries to sell you someone. Despicable, everything for success.

"D-do you know Hanni?" she suddenly stutters, quietly, ashamed but her fingers are already dialing up her friends number.

"I have never met her." You laugh in disbelief and turn your back to Minji. "You're really going to sell your bandmate? Are you not friends?"

"I—she's the only one I know who is a virgin but not... not... not unwilling."

You cock your eyebrow and listen to Minji's call which is surprisingly short. No mention of you or your arrangement, just the location and some details. Definitely no one is allowed to know of this and yes, Hanni has to be swift.

Minji ends the call and you immediately throw her to the ground, her head on the cushions of the nearby bed, your belt already loose, a hand on your pants.

"Pull them down and open your fucking mouth." Minji does so, the shock in her eyes is wonderful when you push past her lips and against the back of her throat in one go. Violent choking. "You are terrible, the worst friend, but at least you know how to make that mouth-pussy of yours work. Go on! Fucking use your tongue."

Minji starts to gag, trying to adjust to your cock, not realizing you weren't even fully hard yet. You never were with her.

"Good, all the way. Use your tongue and saliva, let me fucking feel it."

You kick off your trousers and put more force in your hips so that your long shaft may fill Minji's deepest depths. It pushes out a lot of saliva, a waterfall that tumbles down her chin and covers her top. From your point of view you may not see it, but you know that Minji's aroused nipples poke through her bra and show that no matter how hard you fuck her face or belittle her, she's yours.

Minji's mind shall only be occupied with satisfying you, so even her still lacking tongue and lips do their best to suck you from tip to base—you make sure she never slacks by pistoning in and out of her.

After about 30 minutes of slowly thrusting in and out of here and replying to texts on your phone, you receive a message from the hotel staff that someone has arrived and come to see you. Minji tries to tap on your leg, indicating she wished to be freed of this position. You shake your head, no.

"Oh, you don't want your bandmate to see you like this? That's not an option."

The sound of a door opening echoes through the hotel room and Minji panics, flailing wildly, her eyes tearing up and begging, begging so well—maybe she can finally grasp what she has gotten her friend into—

"Hello? Minji, are you here? Is everything okay?"

—but she still has so much to learn. Smack her cheek a final time, loud enough for Hanni to gasp at the front door. Before she can enter the bedroom, you pull out of Minji's mouth and push her towards the door.

"Minji?" Hanni asks again and rushes towards her. Minji stops her, both of them shriek in shock. "Oh my Gosh, Minji, it is you! You scared me!"

"I-I'm sorry, I—"

"You look... messy. Is everything alright? I'm sorry if I took too long, you sounded so sad and terrified."

"Hanni, I," Minji stutters, hesitates, maybe even contemplates. It all makes her seem as if she has a heart and does not want to use Hanni to keep her virginity, but deep down everyone has to know that she is not a good person. No one would sell their friend for something like this. Minji is cold hearted when it comes to her career and things she believes she rightfully owns. "I have to ask something crazy of you."

"Okay? Look, you need to calm down first, maybe clean your face up and then we can talk ab—"

"Hanni, please." You hear some uncertain steps, as if someone is almost falling over and is ultimately pressed to a wall. You hear a wet sound, then a moan. Your cock is going crazy at all the possible things that might happen right around the corner and later in this bed. "Do you trust me?"

"Why did you kiss me, Minji?"

"Do you trust your leader?"

"Yes, of course. I'm a bit scared though, what have you gotten into?" Hanni's voice is full of concern and so is her face which you see for the first time when Minji guides her into the bedroom, arms around Hanni's tiny waist.

Hanni is in complete shock.

"Minji, what is this? Who is this man?" You still have your pants down and cock out.

Unfazed, you smile at the girl. "Minji, tell your friend what you did."

"Have you never wondered," Minji starts right away and tightens her hold on the younger band member. "Why so much changed before our debut, why the success was imminent, why it didn't stop? Have you never questioned all the blessings we received?"

"I-I... what was I supposed to think?" Hanni weakly laughs and tries to avoid the sight of your erection, but she can't because Minji is slowly inching her closer to it. "We are in a gr-great company, smart managers, pro-ducers... so who are you?"

"He is the reason, he is why we did not fail. Look, Hanni, I had to do it, okay?"

"Do what? Sell your body?" Hanni looks over her shoulder at the glassy-eyed leader of her group who gives her the tiniest nod. In those large, round orbs of the young Vietnamese woman you see the realization kick in bit by bit. At first she does not want to accept it, then she cannot believe it—but at last, she has to put it into words.

"You sold your body... and now he wants more."

"He wants something only you can give him," Minji whispers and pecks Hanni's cheek. You are astonished at how she manipulates her dongsaeng, Minji truly is ruthless; but Hanni's calmness deserves an award. She seems to surrender to this idea easily. There is no flight, there is barely any fight—she accepts her situation.

"Will you give it to him? Your virginity?"

"Minji, I—"

"That's not the entire truth is it, Minji?" You smirk coldly. "You are a pretty thing, Hanni. She's right, I do want more. It's not something only you can give me, rather, it's something Minji refuses to give me. So instead, she offered you to me. Your precious group leader sold you out."

Put her tiny chin into your hand and for the first time, Hanni locks eyes with you. Minji's manipulation roots deeper, as there is not a hint of belief in the words you say. Rather, Hanni listens to the girl in her ear, at her ear, that licks her ear and tells her sweet lies:

"He is playing with you. He likes to play. But don't worry, he will help us.

"Don't you want to be a star, Hanni? The most successful foreign idol?" You hear Minji opening Hanni's belt as she melts in between your thumb and index finger. Her lips look so full and perfect. You'd bet your career that she is already a great sucker, maybe even better than Minji is at this point. "My sacrifice can't be for nothing, and yours won't be either."

Hanni's pants drop to the floor, while you work to get rid of her jacket. She is like a Barbie doll: pretty, clear skin, obedient, ready to be undressed and played with. No matter what you do or where you touch, she just obliges while her features become redder and hotter. Soon, she wears nothing but her undergarments.

"You have an amazing body," you compliment her. She just nods. You order Minji to put Hanni on your bed. For now, you'll not reveal the whole story, the truth: yes, you play games, but Minji clearly is lying to Hanni, trying to get away with more than questionable methods.

You respect Minji for that. Yes, in this dedication, the lies, you see devotion for you. She is willing to sacrifice herself and even her friend for your satisfaction. It wouldn't be long now until she would truly be turned into a loyal one for you.

You have a suspicion and you would test it out here.

"Hanni Pham, a bright star plucked out of Australia, a Viet idol with international appeal. And a lovely voice too, dare I say even prettier than Minji's..."

You smirk, sensing the hurt from Minji without even looking.

"Will you tell me your name?" Hanni asks as you crawl on top of her. Minji placed her in a missionary position and still rubs her hand all over her exposed thighs so she would open her legs for you.

"You don't need my name, you just need to know what I can do and what I want. My deal with Minji benefits you a lot. Tell me, how does it feel to hold a music show trophy or one of those MAMA awards?"

"G-good, Sir, it's quite the," Hanni gasps when you push her legs open and place a finger on her white, innocent panties. You search for a bit until you find her clit and rub it from side to side. "Thrill."

"Drop the Sir, with me Hanni." Lean down to her pink lips, those round, moisturized and smooth lips. "Call me Daddy."

Minji's eyes widen and she almost lets out a whimper as if to object to you. A first encounter and you already let her call you, Daddy? Did you already like Hanni more than her when you haven’t even received pleasure yet?

"Daddy?" Hanni responds unsure.

"Yes, Hanni. You'll be a good girl for me won't you? That's all I want. Good, loyal girls. If you do that, you can have anything you desire."

"Daddy, I want to be successful and I want to give you what you need for that." She whimpers when you put more pressure on her nub. "B-but I'm a bit scared. I have never put something inside."

"I think your friend here can help you with that. After all, she got you into that situation." You glance at Minji and she gets what you mean, though the envy at Hanni's preferential treatment is clearly visible on her wrinkled forehead.

Minji leans down and gives Hanni a firm kiss while replacing your hand on the clit that has steadily hardened and is now aroused to the point Hanni's panties become stained with wet spots.

You glance at Minji in thanks.

"Oh and Minji: no more kissing Hanni unless I command it. Her lips and your lips, belong to me only. Is that clear?" She can only meekly nod. "I hope you haven't been touching anyone else during our time together, Minji. That would really upset me."

You already know the answer. Given how easily Minji’s and Hanni’s lips connected just this evening, you know it's something they are comfortable with. That would end now.

Before Minji can answer you, you focus back on Hanni and the sticky sensation spreading over your fingers.

"Already wet for me? You're taking to my touch a lot better than your leader. Tell me, Hanni, you're not afraid of me, are you? Just ask me to touch you more. Tell me what you want."

Hanni is still hesitant, though there is shyness only in the way her mouth doesn't move and admit to her body's obvious reaction. She leaks onto your fingers, her chest heaves heavily, faster. You insert a finger, as well as part of those drenched panties inside her and finally, the right words slip out.

"Your fingers feel so good, fu-uck."

"That's what I wanted to hear." You smile and lean down to Hanni's face. Her lips instinctively pucker, her eyes fall shut, oh, how incredible: she is already yours. You let her wait there, finger twirling, pretending to push aside her panties and go for the real deal, but you're all teasing. Hanni mewls.

"Please, D-Daddy, kiss me."

"I will, when I put it in."

"W-will it hurt? Will you hurt me Daddy?"

"Only if you want me to, baby girl, but you want what Daddy wants, right? It might hurt to begin with, but it will feel so good for both of us."

The chemistry between you two surprises Minji as she backs off, her hands away from the young women for the first time. Hanni nods.

"Make me feel good, Daddy. I trust you."

Hook your fingers in Hanni's panties and at last, her soaked entrance is exposed, for your eyes only. You stroke your cock a couple of times, get the fresh girl juice all over it and gaze over the insanely well-trained body you're about to ravish.

Hanni's abdomen is to die for. The muscles on her midriff are absolutely stunning, the same goes for her navel perfectly resting in between them and then further up her subtle boobs, which Minji frees from the bra after your command. It all ends with Hanni’s chin, the sweat that runs down her throat, the faint sparkle of perfection—to sum it up, Hanni is incredibly beautiful.

You take hold of her hips and bask in the way your cock and her hole are magnetically attracted and connect. Hanni throws her head back at the impact and with every inch you stuff into her, her breathing becomes more erratic. Funnily enough, the same goes for Minji, who quietly scoots back and rests at the headboard of the bed.

As you slowly pump half of your cock in and out of the tight cavern, Minji goes for the same rhythm and rubs her clit, hand buried in her pants. She even goes and opens the first buttons. Is it really this girl that wants to keep control over her virginity? Let her have it for now, she'll be yours soon enough.

"Daddy, just focus on me!” Hanni whines out her first words after becoming a full blown woman. “You-you didn't need her, right?"

"Then make me forget, baby girl. Squeeze my cock with your pink little pussy." You go and have a taste of Hanni’s fat lips again, wishing they would suck your balls right now. Hanni could become a whore who would worship your crown jewels like no other. Better than Minji, whose eyes beg to be involved in the action. "Spread your legs more, I want to fuck you harder, Hanni.

"Oh and Minji: Go and suck my balls! That's what you're good for."

"O-okay, Master."

"Be grateful for it. But remember, no cumming."

"Thank you, Master."

"Daddy?” Hanni whimpers softly. “Why does she call you, Master? Is one better?"

"Oh baby girl. Daddy is more affectionate. It's what you deserve. Minji still has to learn, her heart isn't in this yet."

Minji's heart might not be in the right place (rather the place you intend it to be) but her lips surely are. She gives your swinging balls a good suck and slows done the pace at which your fucking Hanni's pussy.

It's amazing how well she adjusted to your size, even with your length and girth growing continuously at her fantastic heat and texture. Hanni handles you like a pro, and like one of your pro girls, she is already more drool than straight thoughts.

"Does it feel good, Daddy's hard cock in your virgin pussy? Get used to it because it's the only thing your hole will know. I will be the only one to use your holes, is that clear?"

"Oh Daddy, oh Daddy," Hanni moans and her body rocks violently on the bed sheets. "You-you are so much better."

"Better than what, baby girl?"

Hanni puts both her weak hands on the back of your head and pulls you down to where her lips meet your ears to tell you lewd things that Minji must not hear.

"Better than Minji's fingers."

You take this as a cue to grab Hanni's thighs and angle her in such a way that you can slam into her cunt harder. You let gravity do the work while the force of the entire bed frame shaking has Minji trembling in awe. She rubs her thighs together and tries to keep her hands busy with other spots of her heated body.

You can see that she wants to rub her clit while you make Hanni cum during her precious first time. She is probably projecting, wants you to go softly, then harder, but that is not your game.

"Hanni, no more of that, no more Minji's fingers. Only Daddy shall touch you from now on. You are mine and I'm going to go as hard as I want." You growl out slamming into her even more. "Take it all, Hanni, prove your fucking worth to me."

"Thank y-you, Daddy," Hanni begins her way down the rabbit hole of subjugation towards only you. The new life she will enter, all the changes, challenges and benefits will overwhelm her, but first you overwhelm her with your rod. "Thank you, for help-ing us, thank you for the wins, thank—ah, Daddy, I'm cumming! My pussy is cumming! Thank you for your cock, Daddy!"

You enter a nirvana drilling into Hanni's tight cunt.

"Good girl, yes thank me, beg me, need me. This is the only cock you will ever have from now on and—" You kiss her with wanton lust, shoving your tongue in her mouth. The next whisper in Hanni's ear is out of Minji’s reach, though she might be too distracted from your delicious balls to get what you were saying either way.

"Daddy! I understand, yes."

Without losing focus of your hammering, you give a dismissive order to Minji, who is not worth your eyes on her.

"You can go Minji. I don't need you here. In fact, we can end our deal. You got what you needed right? Wins and fame. I won't meddle with your group in anyway. You are free to go."

"What?" Minji shrieks, completely offended that you could say such a thing.

"You heard me. Fuck. Off." Every word is empathized by a huge thrust that bulges Hanni's tummy. She stares at it in infinite bliss, then throws her head back as you knead her small tits and make the nipples hard like steel.

"B-but Master, you can't just do that."

"You did not keep your part of the bargain and still got what you wanted. Why the hell are you still here?"

"But I did!” Minji argues and climbs in front of you on the bed. “I brought you, Hanni, Master! I—"

"Hanni, turn around and get in position, I want both of us to look at Minji. I'm going to fuck you from behind.

"What's wrong, Minji? You never truly wanted me in the first place. We both got what we needed from our deal. You don't need my help, your group will be successful. I made sure of it. I am releasing you from our contract with no punishments. Take the fucking deal, Minji."

Minji sits there, on the bed, not moving from her position. In utter shock as she watches Hanni smile and moan as you take her from behind, her pussy stretched again. God, how good she must feel, that face says it all. The pleasure, the desire, all the praises for your cock and it's only because she has her tongue sticking out like it's numb.

Suddenly, it all seems so clear to Minji, so easy to comprehend. She takes a deep breath and learns towards you, her upper body prompted up. All that just to throw her dignity away, to throw herself underneath you.

"Daddy, please! Give me your cock too! Take my virginity, don't push me away!"

You stop thrusting into Hanni right away and pull out for a moment to look at her.

"Bullshit. I told you we were done here. You don't mean that. You just want my power and connections like everyone else."

"No, I mean it," Minji reassures, but words are nothing when it comes to her current state. She has to follow it up with more, significantly more. You doubt that she can deliver, but low and behold, she unbuttons her jeans and peels them off to show her long legs and the thoroughly drenched panties.

"Mi-Minji, what in the," Hanni moans and goes silent when you smack her ass. It's unbelievable that she is already so obedient and well-trained without training. The more she impresses you, the more Minji has to follow up. Soon she is on her back, jeans on the floor, shut legs turned towards you.

You put your hand on her thigh and though it's tough on her, Minji spreads her trembling legs wide. You poke her lips through her panties and when she squirms you give her a quick slap on her face.

"Look at me, Minji," you order and she does. "Beg me, call me Master until I have given you, no, until I have taken what is rightfully mine."

"Please, Master," Minji cries out. "Please take my virginity, y-you own it."

"Louder," you growl and smack her covered pussy. Minji cries out, her pleas louder and louder with every new hit you give her cunt. Oh the way her eyes sparkle and body jerks is addicting, you don't realize that you have started to fuck back into Hanni who might have seen Minji naked before, who might have had sex with her—

—but this is new. Minji is a brainless mess, her pussy red from the beating, her face fully in tears.

"Master, fuck my pussy, please! Fuck this pussy, my worthless pussy, it's yours! Make me full, make me full, I don't deserve it!"

"Now we are getting there," you viciously laugh and grab her chin to aggressively tonguefuck her wet, silly mouth. Minji is such a mess, dazed to the point Hanni's hands undressing her top after your order doesn't even faze her. Her top is gone, her bra as well. All that's left are her panties and Hanni has her fingers already hooked in them.

"Wait, Hanni, she should do it alone."

"Yes, Daddy."

"Ma-Master?"

"Lay down, Minji.

"Pull them to the side.

"Show me your pussy.

"Say it.”

Minji slowly and clumsily works on pulling and getting her wet panties off of her. There is an unfathomable amount of embarrassment in the way Minji’s eyes cannot hold your strong, charismatic gaze for long.

"Shall I feast on your pussy, Minji?" You ask with a smirk and hunger in your eyes.

They all turn eventually. It sometimes sounds so sudden and drastic, but it's all more or less the same. It builds up over time, like an orgasm. Some girls are quiet, until it bursts out of them in a heavy gush that has the entire floor wet. Some are loud the entire way through and what was once only lip service becomes reality, a reality they adore.

They all turn and they all get your cock. So does Minji, with her finger still spreading those sore, red folds and you ignoring her pleasure just to find yours in this wet, messy hole. Minji's cunt is remarkable, cute in the way it ripples and tightens and incredibly lewd in the way it sounds when you slam yourself in and out while holding onto her slim waist.

Now she is part of the loud girls, those idols that suddenly come to worship you more than the career that they fought so hard for. It will be later that they realize that this is the way they get approval from their company, their sponsors, their fans. You are success, the Queen maker for the outside world and a toy maker in your bedroom.

Minji is a great toy. She is euphoric now, the pain already gone. She makes sure to adjust to your will, lifts her hips off the ground when you need to slow down, shows you her tongue when you go for a kiss, and always says the right things. It was so hard for her not long ago, but now she is willing to do it despite Hanni laying next to her and admiring both of you fucking like animals.

"Hanni," you groan and hammer your cock balls deep into Minji, who throws her head back in another (accidental) orgasm. "I know you want to fuck both of us so bad, but if you don't touch yourself until I'm finished with her, I'm gonna cum on your pretty face and tell you how good you are, okay?"

"O-okay, Daddy," Hanni mewls. Not that she would have touched herself, but you can't blame her for considering it. Caress her cheek softly for being so good, then fucking destroy Minji's cunt because she has been so bad.

"Master, more, pl-please, fuck!" Minji howls with pleasure.

"You're going to be my good girl from now on, right?"

"Yes, Master, use me however you want. I-I just want to live to fulfill your desires. Master!"

You stare deeply at her and pause right before the next spike rattles Minji’s brain.

"Really? With every atom in your body. Tell me again, Minji."

"Every-thing." Minji can barely talk but does so for you, despite you, despite the large dick that is reshaping her insides. "You own everything, Master. You c-can use me daily, everywhere, any-time. I-I mean it!"

You lean down to her and give her a simple, hard thrust to make sure she gets your point.

"You're a good girl?"

"Yes, Master."

"Then call me Daddy," you whisper into her ear and put a hand on her throat, ready to press down on it.

"Thank you, Daddy," Minji rasps before you choke her hard and fuck her absolutely senseless. Orgasm after orgasm shoots through her frame, her existence becomes numb, she is a fleshlight now. The vibrations of her climax become your stimulation and at the last possible second, you pull out of that twitching hole.

"Get on your knees Hanni," you order in time. Hanni kneels before you as you somehow slide off the bed, legs a bit shaky and with her head thrown back because you could not resist pulling her raven hair, you cum all over her features. "God, you are such a pretty girl. I can't believe such beauty loves cum on her face."

"It's Daddy's cum," Hanni moans and sucks on your tip to get more on her lips. The rest has mostly covered her nose, her cheeks, her forehead. "Of course I like it!"

"That is right, baby girl, well said," you compliment her and pat her head while she instinctively cleans your cock with superb care. "Did you ever service someone else?"

"No?" Hanni asks and collects your cream off of her stupidly gorgeous face.

"You, I swear to God, you can't be that good right from the start."

Hanni pouts her lips and puts them under your cock. She truly is one in a million, the rare idol who barely hesitates and immediately knows how to do the right things. In many regards, she reminds you of Kazuha, who told you it was her kinks that made her adapt so easily. Maybe this is the case for Hanni as well. Should that make her devotion less impressive?

"Daddy?" Hanni cutely asks and waits.

"Open your mouth, I need to fuck it now."

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #newjeans smut #newjeans minji smut #newjeans hanni smut #newjeans fanfic #male reader smut

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baby-yongbok · 24 days ago

Text

My Forbidden

Hwang Hyunjin x afab!Reader

-`♡´- Genre - Smut - Forbidden Love -`♡´- Word Count - 4.4k

He's tall in front of you, his smoky aura suffocating you with a temptation you've fought to ignore for months. You told yourself you didn't want him. You told yourself that you couldn't have him.

-`♡´- Warnings - So like, it isn't step-cest. I mean it. it isn't, but I will say that to some people it could look like it. It isn't, I swear but I will leave this here because I can see how it could look that way, Oral (f&m rec.), thigh riding [that's all??] -`♡´- a/n - Okay look, I had to write to these picture because Hwang Hyunjin tried to kill me when he posted them. True story. Anyway, I wanted to write a more unusual forbidden love story and this is where my brain took me. I tried to keep it away from being step-cest and I think i succeeded? It's like a step before it. Anyway this is the first fic I've written since having writers block so, enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✧ Masterlist ✧

The art of control is a medium that Hyunjin wasn’t familiar with until he met you. He’s always been ambitious in his desires and exercises the drive to aim and shoot towards whatever he wants no matter the consequences. When he saw you for the first time his scope was set and locked. He watched and studied you. He longed for you.

It was only a matter of time before fate worked in his favor. He was a model looking for a photographer and you were a photographer looking for a subject. What a coincidence.

Hyunjin wasted no time charming you. He pulled out all the stops and you were impressed to say the least. You just clicked. It felt like a perfect fit, and then things got complicated.

He had fallen for you, face first in a rosy smoke that he couldn’t resist. He knew that you weren’t far behind so he thought it would be a good idea to have you meet his mother. You thought the same, asking your father to come to dinner with you and your lover. The night went well, too well.

Your rising interest seemed to be contagious at the table that night. Hyunjin knew from the excessive batting of his mothers lashes that she was into your father and vice versa. You’d never seen him smile like that, ever.

“Hyunjin.” His name dances across your lips with each muffled exhale against the palm of your hand. Your other hand works lazily to pry his head from the crook of your neck. The gentle smack of his lips against the supple skin echoes through the open space. “We can't, we can't..”

The structure of your protests crumbles when his kisses trail down and over your shoulder. The thin strap of your tank top is pulled down with a hooked finger and his lips fill the now empty space with wet kisses. “Why not?”

He knows the answer. He knows that this isn't a dynamic that would be smiled upon. It's complicated.

“You know why.” Your hands roam his body slower than they should until they settle at the waistband of his jeans. You stick your thumbs into his belt loops, using them as leverage to push him back. “You'll be my brother soon.”

“I will never be your brother.” His stare is heavy, his lips kiss bitten and sloppy with his own spit. He looks unhinged, desperate. “I wanted you first. They weren't part of the plan.”

You push him back towards the set in the middle of your apartment. He complies, eyeing you as he backtracks one step at a time. “They'd be pissed.”

You push him into the chair in the middle of the photo set and he slumps against it. His sweater rides up his stomach, exposing the toned muscle and you steal a glance before retreating.

“We were talking before they ever were.” He argues, letting his head fall back to stare up at the ceiling of your living room. “I kissed you, remember? We went on a date. Several dates.”

You grab your camera, distracting yourself with the settings to avoid Hyunjin's argument. He's not wrong, the two of you were seeing each other months before your parents got together. The two of you even reminded them about your evolving relationship the day after they announced theirs. You asked that they respect your connection but you were only guilted into breaking it off.

Hyunjin didn’t give up as easily as you did. He fought, he protested but when it all seemed to be overwhelming for you he stopped. He settled, only because you asked him to. Hyunjin paced the space of his living room that night. He was seething, fuming, crushed. He tried his best, whispering to himself to keep his cool, keep it together, be your friend. Just your friend.

But he couldn’t. Not when he’d give you more than any other friend ever could, ever would, ever should.

“I remember. I also remember our parents asking us to call everything off so the family dynamic wouldn't be weird.” He scoffs, sitting straight to look at you. His eyes have a piercing shimmer to them, you point your camera and click.

“You mean when they tried to gaslight us into thinking that we aren't actually into each other?” He smiles, it's wide and somehow condescending. It makes you hot. “They aren't going to last you know? They've been fighting more. My mom seems to be getting fed up.”

You click another picture. “This wouldn't be the first time.” You mumble, unfazed by the information.

“She took her ring off.” You freeze, lowering the camera to get a good look at Hyunjin. The grin on his lips says it all. “She hasn't worn it in a week.”

“My dad hasn't said anything.”

“He doesn't want you to get any ideas.” Hyunjin is standing tall with a simple push forward, his sweater rides up, his jeans sitting low on his hips as he stalks forward. “He knows that if they broke up at noon you'd be in my bed by one.”

He's tall in front of you, his smoky aura suffocating you with a temptation you've fought to ignore for months. You told yourself you didn't want him. You told yourself that you couldn't have him.

“We should wait until the break up is official.”

His fingers dance along the skin of your exposed shoulder. He brushes your hair back, lingering over the spot that he knows drives you crazy. “We've waited long enough, don't you think?” His words manifest in a whisper and linger in your head as if they were your own.

“Aren't you sick of waiting?” His other hand is on your waist, pulling your body against his own until you can't feel where you end and he begins. You've always just fit like that.

“You're here for photos.” You're breathless, eyes locked on his lips that are dangerously close to yours. It's tempting, intoxicating. His cologne lingers around you, dragging you down further into the forbidden bits of your desire.

“Let's take some then.” His lips are on yours in an instant. It was the quickest slow motion you'd ever experienced. The gentlest storm you could ever be swept into. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you against him while his free hand reaches for your camera.

His lips take you in with a palpable yearning that Hyunjin has worked hard to tame. He tongue parts your lips with expert precision that makes this seem practiced. Your arms wrap around him, resting on his shoulders and fisting the flimsy fabric of his sweater. He licks into your mouth and you moan in time with the shutter of the lens. Hyunjin breaks the kiss, just barely pulling away to show you your debauched reflection on the screen.

“We look good together don't we?” His lips just barely brush over yours. His breath fans over the tender flesh and you forget all that you were weary about. The complications evaporate with his touch just as they always have.

“If we do this… If I give myself to you I don’t know that I can take myself back.” You whisper, eyes capturing him in a stare that could halt a bullet. “You’ll have to keep me if you take me.”

He pauses, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a promise, and in that moment, An intense longing flickers in his eyes, consuming him. “I wouldn’t dream of letting you go,” he replies, voice low and steady, a vow etched in every syllable.

Every part of him is drawn to you. Every night that you’ve been limited to the bounds of his imagination, every time that he’s had to contain his desire to sculpt you into something glorious beneath him. The sacrificed nights of sleep and months of sanity just to keep his control tight in his fist led him to this. To you.

He dives into you like your waves would recede if he didn’t dip into you now. You spill into him, melting against his touch and letting your desire run rampant in the space around you. He clicks another photo, capturing the desperation leaking between your lips. You push against him, backing him towards the chair in the middle of the hommade set yet again. He sits when his calves hit the seat, breaking the kiss reluctantly to stare up at you with the honey he calls eyes.

“What if they don’t break up?” The concern in your tone is countered as you kneel before him, slotting yourself between his spread legs. He’s silent for a second, taking in the view that he’s dreamt of for months. The camera clicks.

He smiles, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't care." he says, his voice a low rumble. He reaches out, sinking his long fingers into the thick curl of your hair and coaxing you forward. You lean in and just barely brush your lips against his naked hip, before pulling away. "I’m not sacrificing us again."

His hand moves to cup your face, the pad of his thumb runs over the apple of your cheek in gentle admiration and you reach up, your fingers brushing against his wrist. “What’re you doing on your knees, baby?”

“I’ll show you.” You lean back into his hip, brushing your lips over the skin and exhaling a heavy puff of hot air before placing a gentle kiss. Hyunjin watches you with the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth. A single strand of hair falls forwards to frame the shimmering brown admiring the lithe move of your lips against his skin.

Your hands roam the expanse of his denim clad thighs, your manicured nails dig into the fabric with a soft bite that makes the man above you hiss with a gentle flutter of his heavy lids. He slouches a bit more into the black framed chair, giving you better access to where he’s throbbing for you beneath the fabric.

“You’re so pretty.” His voice fails him, the tension of the moment lays thick on his vocal cords and forces him into a rough whisper. A blush runs over the glow of your swarthy skin, it matches the rosy red that’s creeping up and over Hyunjin’s ears. He points the camera and clicks, another one follows when your eyes meet the lens and he groans at the preview on the screen.

“You, you’re the one who looks like…” Your eyes scan up his frame to take in the gray sweater pulled tight over his frame. The defined dips and curves of his arms are highlighted by the clinging fabric and his chest is teased through the deep V of the neck. And the buttons, the fucking buttons, they’re barely doing their job. “God, Hyunjin.”

His head falls back slightly, a muted groan escaping him. “Don’t do that.” His voice breaks at the final word. His eyes are shut tight. “Don’t say my name like that.” He sounds tortured, stuck between a dream and reality and it makes your heart skip.

Your fingers work the button of his jeans and Hyunjin moves to watch. The brush of your fingers against the bareskin of his stomach makes him dizzy and the sound of his zipper separating to expose his black briefs to you only makes it worse.

Your lips are on the dip of his V-line. Your tongue traces the flesh, one of your hands presses over his bulging length while the other works to lower his jeans. He lifts his hips, allowing you to get the fabric around the thick of his thighs for better access. His hand sinks back into your curls, his fingers scratch at your scalp delicately electing another moan of his name. His breath hitches at the sweet sound on your wet lips.

“Take it out, please.” He mumbles, low lids fluttering softly at the sight before him. “Please, baby.”

That’s all that you needed to let it all go, the sediment of your reluctance was washed away in an instant and his bare cock was in your hand even quicker. He’s better than you dreamed of.

“Oh my god.” You take him in with a moan. Arousal pools in your panties and your hands drag over his length on their own. The camera clicks. You lean forward, taking him in your mouth without warning and Hyunjin nearly drops the camera.

“Shit, baby.” His mouth falls open, his brows furrowed and his fingers fist in your hair. This is insane. You sink the length of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. You drool around him, slurping and sucking while your eager cunt throbs between your sticky thighs. Your panties are doing a horrible job at containing your excitement. Your jeans are surely ruined but so are you.

“Fuck, that mouth. Your mouth feels so good, so so fucking-” His own body betrays him, interupting his ramble with a groan and a small buck of his hips. His cock leaks against your tongue as you swirl the muscle around the head. Drool pools at the hilt of his length and runs over his balls. It’s messy. You take him deeper, gripping his hips and scratching over the rising red marks that you’ve sucked into the skin.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that.” Your own arousal starts to become unbearable. Each ragged breath and groan from Hyunjin sends shocks to your system and you need something. With your thighs squeezed tight you buck your hips to match the bob of your head over his cock. You match the rhythm, imagining the head of his cock bullying your swollen walls instead of your throat. You clench around nothing at the thought.

“Get up, c’mere.” He guides your mouth off of him with his hand in your hair, a string of spit connects you to his cock and he lifts the camera lazily to capture the debauchery. “Sit on my thigh” Hyunjin guides his jeans the rest of the way down, taking his underwear with the denim and kicking it off.

You move to unbutton your jeans quickly, fumbling with the button in a clumsy pursuit that Hyunjin interrupts with his long digits. He hooks his pointer finger into the front of your jeans and pulls you closer into his waiting hands. They settle on your hips, moving up slowly to squeeze the fluff of your waist.

“How are you this fucking fine?” His fingers pop the button of your jeans with ease, he peels the fabric down your curves at an eager pace that’s translated through the sloppy kisses planted along the hem of your messy panties. Your hands thread through his raven locks, combing his hair back out of his face. You watch him, he’s a vision in your blissed out haze. A dream personified.

“Do you know how hard it’s been…” He mumbles against your skin, his dark eyes peer up to meet yours in a vulnerable soul gaze. “Do you understand how badly I’ve wanted to touch you...” His fingers trace a soft line up your leg and stop at the print of your pussy through your panties. He can see the dark spot on the gray fabric. He can see that you’ve felt the same.

Hyunjin runs his pointer and middle finger over the soiled fabric of your panties and rubs a soft circle over your clit. Your breath hitches in your throat. You lean up on the ball of your foot and shift your weight from one leg to the other. Hyunjin continues, rubbing harsher circles and spreading the stain of your slick further as his lips and tongue work at the expense of your stomach.

You strip yourself of your tank top to give him more access, leaving you in only your panties since you chose to forgo a bra this morning. You gasp a moan when he presses up against the swollen bud. It throbs against the contact and you squirm, whining at the harsh touch.

“Please, don’t stop touching me.” You plead, pushing yourself further into his touch. “More, please.”

Hyunjin’s eyes shut with a furrow. Your words make his cock jump. He hooks the fingers that are teasing your clit into the hem of your panties to move the ruined fabric to the side. A string of arousal follows and he groans at the sight. “Baby, you’re soaking. You’re, you’re fucking…” He’s leaning in before he allows himself to finish his sentence and places a soft kiss against your exposed center.

You moan, the grip you have in his hair tightening as the simple kisses against your clit turn into desperate kitten licks. “Jin... Hyunjin, fuck.” He hums as he continues, the small licks quickly evolve into long drags of his tongue through your folds while one hand palms your ass and the other holds your waist.

He blindly reaches to the side where he’s discarded the camera, detaching from your core for just a second to grab it and hand it to you. You take it, clumsily putting your arm through the attached strap and situating the device in your hands. Hyunjin dives back in, his lips wrap around your clit and you point and click with a loud moan.

“You’re gonna make me cum.” Hyunjin moans at the admission, this would be the first time he makes you cum. The first time he sees your beautiful body fall apart for him. “Oh, god, I’m gonna cum in your mouth.” Moans follow, tumbling forward with clumsy thrusts of your hips against his tongue and chin. You’ve never gotten to orgasm this fast. You’ve never fallen apart this easily for anyone but him.

His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it and you snap another picture before falling apart. You're gushing into his mouth with a choked sob. The camera falls from your hands and is saved by the strap around your arm. Your grip in Hyunjin’s hair is punishing as you ride his face through your high. He groans at the pain, pulling away from your core after a second and forcing you forward to sit on his thigh.

He presses the muscle of his leg up against your core and the squelch of your drenched sex against his skin echoes between you. “Listen to you, angel. Fuck.” Hyunjin licks his lips but you catch them in a heated kiss before he can clean them completely. You taste yourself off of his lips and he melts into you, moaning at the force of your tongue against his.

His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you over the naked skin of his thigh. “You feel so good in my hands.” He presses his forehead against yours, listening to each heavy inhale you take. “Your pussy is fucking - you’re dripping. God, I can still taste you.”

“I need you, now. Can’t wait anymore.” You cup his face with one hand while your free one grips the backrest of the chair. You kiss him, it’s soft and slow. Your lips move against each other with a rhythm that only the two of you can access. His tongue pushes against yours, milking moans from your chest while you grind over him. “Wanna feel you, wanna be yours. Please make me yours.”

“Baby.” He shivers, taking in the slick feel of your arousal dripping over his leg. Your hard nipples brush against the fabric of his cardigan and he suddenly wants it off. Now. “You can’t say shit like that to me. You can’t say that and expect me to not fucking fall apart.”

His breath fans over your lips with a heavy exhale. His swollen pink lips brush against yours with each word. “Don’t you dare hold back.” You tilt his head up, driving his hazy gaze towards your own. “Give me what they wouldn’t let you. Give me everything.”

A rumble rips through him, something akin to a growl as he shifts you into his lap. Your words, they lit a new fire in him and he needs to feel you now before it goes out. He needs to make you his. “I’ll give it to you.” Hyunjin scoops you up, your core rests over his cock as he stands with you in his arms.

You wrap your arms around his neck, squealing softly as lifts you. He silences you with a kiss, swallowing the sound while moving across the room to try and get you to the stairs. He wants to take you to your room. He wants to lay you on your bed and finally fuck you the way he’s dreamt of when he fucks his fist to your memory. But he can't make it.

He only gets a couple steps across the open space of your living room before the aching of his cock betrays him. You barely even make it to the couch, he stops right in front of it, lowering you so that your back rests against the front of the sofa.

Your hands roam and grab in a hungry attempt to feel his chest against yours. You fist the gray fabric and pull, popping the first two buttons of his cardigan. He groans, sliding his hands under your thighs and pulling your core to his. Your panties are in the way and he moves to change that instantly. He pulls at the fabric, ripping it at the seams and working it down the plush of your thighs.

“Turn around.” Hyunjin is moving fast, helping you turn around to face the couch. Your knees dig into the fuzz of the carpet, your forearms rest against the couch cushions. You reach your hand back, taking his dribbling length in your hand and spreading his slick.

“Do you - Do you have a condom?” He pants against your neck, trembling with the brush of your hand over his cock. “Cause I can’t… I won’t pull out.”

The thought of him stuffing you full of his cum has you keening, your pussy clenches and the answer to his question almost vanishes. “In the drawer of the table behind you.”

Hyunjin turns, reaching back to fish through the drawer. He finds what he’s looking for just as your phone starts to vibrate on the coffee table. Hyunjin sees the caller ID before you can turn around. His heart skips and falls to his stomach but he hides it. He moves quickly, kissing you in an attempt to distract you from the call until it goes to voicemail. “Focus on me, baby. Focus on feeling me.”

He rolls on the condom and breaks the kiss to bend you over the cushions in front of you. You sit up on your knees and he sinks into you slowly, easily splitting you open. You moan in unison, Your eyes rolling back with gasp. “Holy shit, baby.” Hyunjin’s head falls forward, resting on your shoulder.

“If I move I’m gonna cum. You’re too much, too good. Shit.” Your pussy clenches around him and he hisses, just barely grinding his hips into yours. “I’m gonna have to fuck you again.”

“Please, have to feel you again...” You turn your head to the side straining to see him. “Move, I wan’ it. Please, baby.”

“I got you.” He pulls back, setting into a steady pace. “Oh god, baby. I got you.”

You’re falling apart in an instant. Crumbling in his arms as he wraps them around you and sits you up so that your back is against his nearly bare chest. He whimpers in your ear, kissing the shell of it as you bounce in his lap. Sloppy squelches and skin slapping drown out your moans.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your hip and thighs and yours reach back to claw at whatever you can reach. “Hyunjin.” One of his hands dips down to rub tight circles into your clit. His moans pitch higher with each passing second. The rumble of his desperate satisfaction clawing up his throat drags him closer to the edge.

Your spit gets caught in your throat with a sharp gasp when he hits a spot deep inside you. He angles his hips a bit to hit it again and again and again until you're creaming around him. “Baby, baby, ‘m gonna - fuck - please.”

You’re trembling in his lap, shaking like a leaf in his hold. “Me too.” He pants, biting his tongue with his eyes shut tight. He wants you to cum first. He wants you to fall apart. He wants to watch.

“Right there, right there.” You’re chanting to him, singing and sighing praises mixed with his name. “Mine, mine, you’re -” It hits you, it’s blinding and hot and so fucking good. Hyunjin uses his free hand to tilt your head back against his shoulder. He watches your mouth drop open in a scream. He watches the small drop of drool run over your bottom lip. He watches you fall apart around him.

“Yours.” He finishes your sentence, his rhythm falters, his thrusts get more sloppy by the second. “I’m yours yes, yes I am baby. Fuck, oh god, look at you.”

He holds you close while you ride out your high. You’re moaning louder now, still shaking in his arms at the overstimulation. Your pussy clenches and throbs around him and it drives him to his end. His arms wrap around you tighter, holding you firm against him as he stills behind you. He moans your name, repeating it like a prayer as he unravels.

His breath is hot against your neck, his cock twitches against your pulsing walls and a comfortable silence fills the space for a couple heartbeats until he whispers in your ear, “I love you.” You feel your heart flutter and you whisper back, "I love you."

You’ve both waited. Waited so long to say it.

“No one is going to keep me from you. Not anymore.” Hyunjin pants, his grip around you loosening and his heart swells with something that goes beyond his longing. It’s a step above needing your presence. It’s deeper. Intangible. “I’ll talk to them. We’ll work this out.”

The vulnerability of the situation floods back in at his vow. A tear escapes you. Blurring your gaze all over again. “Okay.” You leave the conversation there and shift. He pulls his softening cock from your sensitive sex and starts cleaning you up. He finds your clothes and helps you dress before he pulls his jeans back on.

You find your phone as you wait for him to dress, checking to see who called. Your heart skips a beat. “Hyune.” He reads your tone, looking over to you as he zips his jeans. “Check your phone.”

He moves over to the kitchen counter, grabbing his phone and unlocking the device. His heart skips a beat. His eyes meet yours from across the room.

“They broke up.”

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wholoveseggs · 2 months ago

Text

Scars

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader} Your husband had just returned from battle, injured and needing to be cared for. He is a brat, and needs lots of love. So you take care of him, and then some...

3.5k words - Warnings: smut, blood and injury, wound care, soft!dom Daemon, fingering, riding, slow sex, Daemon pretending to not be in pain, lots of hurt and comfort...

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer

@cheneyq @fallout-girl219 @nina6708 @evasmlp @sadmonke

@deamonloverrrr @urmomsgirlfriend1 @moonsleep

@madeinmyownmind-blog @lovelyy-moonlight

The soft sounds of your feet scurrying against the stone floor of the keep echoed through the empty halls. Soft rustling sounds of the nightdress and robe you hastily threw over your bare body could be heard, but the only thing you could focus on was getting to him. The news of the battle that raged along the shores of Dragonstone had reached your ears only moments ago, but all you could think about was Daemon.

"My lady!" A startled servant gasped as she saw you rushing through the halls, her eyes wide as you came to a sudden stop, nearly running into her.

"Where is he?" You demanded, your chest heaving slightly.

"In his chambers. The maester is seeing to him now.” She answered and you didn't waste any more time. You rushed off in the direction of his rooms, your mind racing.

The door to the royal bedchambers flew open as you rushed in, startling the maester who had been cleaning the prince's wounds. Your husband was laid out on a lounge chair, his chest bare, revealing the deep wounds that covered him. You could feel your heart ache at the sight of the man you loved, but you didn't let yourself dwell on it, not right now.

There were a number of maesters and other assistants tending to Daemon, but the moment you entered, they all froze. "My lady-" the maester began, but you held up a hand.

"Leave us." You ordered, and the maesters and servants all began to clear out, they knew better than to go against your orders.

You watched them leave before turning to look at Daemon. His violet eyes stared back at you, a smirk forming on his lips as you walked over. He winced as he tried to sit up, but you pushed him back down, shaking your head.

"What were you thinking?" You asked, kneeling next to the chair, your hands gently pressing on his skin. He hissed softly, and you looked down, seeing a large wound in his side. It had already been cleaned, but it was deep. "Tsk, I told you to be careful." You sighed, looking around the room for supplies.

"Don't fuss, you know I can't stand it," Daemon spoke up, watching as you grabbed a needle and thread, holding the needle over a candle flame.

"I wouldn't fuss if you weren't such a fool." You scoffed, returning to his side with bandages and the thread.

"You don't mean that." He smirked and you rolled your eyes, threading the needle.

"Hold still." You ordered and began to sew his skin closed. He winced at first, but quickly got used to it, watching you as you worked.

You looked at the wounds that were already sewed up by the maesters, at the old and new scars that littered his body. He had seen many battles and many wars. This was one of the worst injuries he had suffered since his youth, and the sight of it made you uneasy.

"I'll be fine." He murmured, watching as your face contorted.

"What happened?" You asked, ignoring his hiss of pain as you continued to sew the wound closed.

"Pirates, probably from the iron islands." He explained, trying to shift in his seat, but hissing when you tugged at the thread.

"Stop moving." You snapped, giving him a pointed look. He sighed and did as you told him, watching as you returned to the task at hand.

You finished the deep gash on his side, tying the end of the thread before cutting it. You set the tools aside and took the bandages, gently wrapping the wound, making sure it was secure. There was another wound on his chest that was still bleeding, so you grabbed some clean cloth, pressing it against his skin, and putting pressure on it.

"What of Caraxes? Did you not bring your dragon to battle?" You asked, keeping the pressure steady.

"He's fine." He assured you, reaching up and cupping your cheek. You frowned and he chuckled, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "It's just a couple of arrow wounds."

"You could've died." You whispered, feeling tears welling up in your eyes.

"But I didn't." He assured you, giving you a soft smile.

You nodded and took a shaky breath, taking the cloth away and seeing the bleeding had stopped. You grabbed a washcloth, dampening it with some water and wiping away the blood. You could see the dark bruises forming across his torso, the sight of them making your heart clench. But you quickly pushed the feeling aside, knowing now wasn't the time to fuss over him.

As soon as the wound was clean, you took the needle once more and began to sew it closed, going as fast as you could. He stayed quiet the whole time, watching as you worked on patching him up. Your robe and nightdress both fell off your shoulder, but you paid no mind to them as you reached over to grab a new bandage.

"You are far more skilled than the maesters." He stated, sitting up slightly to allow you to wind the bandage around his torso.

"I've just had more practice than they have." You hummed, tightening the bandages and tying it off. You took a moment to examine your work, tracing your fingers over one of his old scars, one that you stitched up not long after your wedding day. His large hand covered yours, his rough fingers entwining with your own, pulling you from your thoughts.

"This one will leave a nasty scar," he remarked, motioning to the gash on his side. "I fear I've run out of unmarred skin to stitch."

"You already have plenty of those." You shot back, drawing his attention to the old burn scars along his neck and shoulder.

"I thought you liked my scars," he teased, watching as you got to your feet and went to the basin to wash your hands. "You always seem to touch them so lovingly in bed."

Your cheeks flushed at the comment, your eyes refusing to meet his. He chuckled lowly, shifting in the seat once more, hissing slightly. Your eyes flicked over to him, concern filling them as you dried off your hands and walked back over to him.

"Let me see your arms." You commanded, gesturing to where an arrow had grazed him. He sighed and held out his arms, grimacing slightly as you unwound the bandage around his bicep. You examined the small wound on his right arm, the stitching was shoddy, but it seemed to be holding up for the moment. "Stay here. I need to speak with the maesters about these new sutures. They're horrible, any more stress, and they could tear."

"Enough," he grumbled, frowning at your fretting. "Come to me." He demanded, tugging at your wrist. You paused, looking at him with a slight frown, but you let him pull you into his lap.

"Daemon, this isn't the time. You're wounded, you should be resting," you sighed, wiggling slightly in his grip, though his arms caged you in, keeping you on his lap.

"I'm not an invalid." He scoffed, running his hands up your sides, pushing your robe and nightdress up.

"I'm serious. You need to rest." You sighed, trying to ignore the lovely way his calloused hands felt against your skin.

"I am resting." He purred, nipping at the skin of your neck, his warm breath ghosting over your jaw.

You rolled your eyes, feigning disinterest, but your eyes fluttered shut as he continued to press gentle kisses along your skin.

"You have a couple scars of your own, don't you my dear wife?" He murmured, as his hands began to wander, moving over your stomach and down your hips.

"Yes, but I didn't get them the same way you did," you retorted, unable to hold back the soft moan that slipped past your lips.

"The birthing bed is just as violent as the battlefield." He replied, gripping at your thighs, using the other hand to tug at your garments.

"Daemon." You sighed, shaking your head.

He looked at you, taking in your appearance as his hand continued to roam your body. You sat on his lap, the thin fabric of your gown and robe slipping down to reveal your soft skin and smooth shoulders. Your bare legs were curled beneath you, nestled between his, and his hand moved further north, reaching underneath your dress to stroke the curve of your ass.

"Daemon, what are you doing?" You breathed, struggling to keep your composure as his rough hands slipped past your undergarments to squeeze your ass.

"Touching you, my darling. It's very healing," he whispered, his lips ghosting across your collarbone, leaving kisses along the skin.

"You'll make your wounds worse," you protested, but made no move to stop him. In fact, the last thing you wanted was for him to stop.

"Hush," he murmured, brushing his lips against yours.

You huffed, trying to resist the urge to lean in and kiss him, but in the end, you caved. The hand on your ass pushed you closer, forcing you to straddle his thigh. A gasp slipped from your lips and he grinned, enjoying the expression on your face.

His hand slid from your back to your hip, squeezing you lightly as he rocked your hips against his thigh. He watched with lust-filled eyes as your head tilted back, exposing your neck, a quiet moan leaving you.

"You always do this." He tutted, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You always make sure to take care of me, but when is someone going to take care of you?"

"I-I'm fine." You assured him, your hips bucking slightly against him. He hummed, his other hand grabbing at the fabric of your robe, pushing the heavy material off your shoulder. It fell easily, bunched up around your waist, revealing your nightdress underneath.

His hand dipped between your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers ghosted over your slit, his eyes darkening at the way your lips parted and your eyes fluttered shut.

Your hands gripped at his shoulders, digging into his flesh, your nails clawing down his arms, causing him to hiss. Your skin was glistening with sweat, the light of the candles bathing the two of you in a soft glow.

Your breath was ragged, a blush spread across your face, reaching down your neck and chest, visible through the low cut of your nightgown. You looked perfect, and he found himself pulling you into a deep kiss, his fingers easing inside you as your lips collided.

You moaned softly, a breathy little sound that had his cock aching. The softness of your skin was like velvet, so different from his. He couldn't stop himself from burying his face in your chest, taking in the smell of you. Everything about you was so warm and inviting, and he couldn't wait to finally be inside you again.

Your legs spread further apart, allowing him more access, and he cursed under his breath, burying his face further into your soft breasts.

You were like a goddess, kneeling in his lap, taking care of him and more. And you deserved no less than to be worshiped. He looked up, catching your eye. Your gaze was filled with heat and passion, and something else, something soft, a look reserved only for him.

"My job is to protect you, and our young ones," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Every one of these scars is a testament to that."

"I know, my love." You breathed, your eyes falling shut as you grew closer to your peak.

Your thighs shook, and he watched as your head tilted back, exposing your throat. He took the opportunity to attack your neck, kissing and nipping at the delicate skin, leaving small marks in his wake.

"But, I will always come back to you, no matter what." He promised, his eyes meeting yours, the love shining through. "Now, cum for me."

He curled his fingers and pressed his thumb against your sensitive nub, and you couldn't hold back anymore. Your mouth fell open, a silent cry leaving your lips, and your body shook. Daemon groaned, feeling you tightening around his fingers, his cock twitching, wanting to feel your warmth.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, and brought them to his lips, licking your arousal off of his fingers, and letting out a pleased hum. You bit your lip, watching as he cleaned his fingers, enjoying the way he was watching you.

"You certainly do heal quickly." You teased, moving to stand up, only to have him pull you back down on top of him.

"And you always know exactly how to care for me." He grinned, keeping a tight grip on your hips. "Now, why don't you let me return the favor?"

You sighed, leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead, "your wounds.. we can't-"

"Oh, they're nothing." He chuckled, his hands moving up and gripping the hem of your nightgown.

"You're so reckless." You chided, lifting your arms, letting him pull the nightgown off, leaving you bare before him.

His eyes wandered over your body, taking in the curves and marks, all the places that had changed. The swell of your breasts, the curve of your hips, the softness of your belly, and the heat of your core. He loved it all, every inch, and every curve, because it was you, and you were his.

He ran his hands over your skin, a soft moan leaving his lips, a needy whine coming from yours. He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You reached down and untied his breeches, pushing them down, and letting his cock spring free. He groaned as your hand wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly.

"You are so much better than any maester," He breathed, leaning back in the chair, enjoying the way you played with his hard cock.

You stifled a giggle at his words, releasing him and positioning yourself, hovering above him, resting your hands on his shoulders for support and avoiding his wounds. He kissed you sweetly, a sigh escaping him as he felt your heat against his tip.

He ran his hands over your hips as you sank down on his length, a soft gasp escaping your parted lips.

"There, now I'm all put back together again." He sighed, rocking his hips into you, making you groan.

You raised your hips slowly, then sunk down again, setting a steady pace and feeling pleasure race through your body. Daemon helped you ride him, his hands on your hips, his moans mixing with yours. You moved one hand from his shoulder, gripping the back of the chair, and the other moved to tangle in his hair, pulling lightly, drawing a deep growl from him.

You made soft sounds as you moved, your moans and sighs filling the room, as well as his grunts and groans, and the obscene sounds of your hips moving together. A dance that the two of you had perfected over the years, where both of you sought the pleasure you knew so well.

You could feel yourself growing closer to your peak, and by the way he was looking at you, you knew he wasn't too far behind. You reached down and pulled his lips to yours, kissing him hard, and panting against his lips.

"Faster," he breathed, gripping your hips tightly, guiding your movements, his eyes meeting yours.

"I'll hurt you," you murmured, but he shook his head.

"Like I said before, I'm not some fucking invalid," he grinned, thrusting into you hard.

You gasped, your arms wrapping around his neck, he hissed as you accidentally grazed one of his wounds, but he didn't care, focusing instead on the feeling of you clenching around his cock.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, peppering gentle kisses over the scars on his skin there, his hold on your hips tightening as you bounced in his lap. His eyes were half lidded, enjoying the way you felt around him. Your skin was slick with sweat, your scent filling his nose, making him dizzy with lust.

You closed your eyes and rested your forehead against his, feeling your whole body growing hot. Your fingers were digging into his skin, trying not to hurt him, but getting harder every second.

You could see blood seeping through the bandages on his chest, and a moment later, Daemon hissed in pain. You stopped moving, opening your eyes, and looking at him with concern.

"Are you okay?" You asked, moving to climb off his lap, only to have him hold you tighter.

"Don't stop," he pleaded, a desperate look in his eyes. "Please."

You paused for a moment, and nodded, picking up your pace, feeling him thrusting up into you. The room filled with the sounds of your moans and grunts, the chair creaking beneath you, and the slap of skin on skin.

Daemon gripped your ass tightly, his hips moving faster, his cock hitting deeper inside you. You could feel your climax creeping up on you, and it seemed that he could too. His eyes were fixed on you, watching the pleasure take over.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice strained, and you obeyed, locking eyes with him.

The room was spinning, everything fading away except for the feeling of him inside you, the look in his eyes, and the heat coursing through you. You held each other tightly, and the pleasure exploded within you, his name a desperate cry on your lips.

He followed a moment later, spilling his seed inside you, his cock pulsing. The two of you stayed like that, holding each other, your foreheads resting together, the room filling with the sounds of your heavy breathing.

You slowly lifted your hips, careful as you separated from him, wincing slightly as his softening cock slipped out of you. Daemon groaned as the head of his cock popped out of your wet cunt, a string of his seed and your arousal still connecting the two of you. You reached down and wiped his seed from your thighs, the mixture coating your fingers.

"Now, I really have to clean you up." You giggled, standing up, your legs wobbly, and walking over to the washbasin, cleaning your hands, then bringing a clean cloth back to him.

"If I knew I would have such a dedicated nursemaid, I would have gotten wounded sooner." He joked, a grin spreading across his face.

You gently pushed his hands away, shaking your head and wiping his cock, and cleaning up the mess the two of you had made, a soft chuckle leaving you, "Now I have to sew you up again."

"Worth it." He shrugged, wincing slightly.

You sighed and shook your head, going back over to the washbasin and wetting the cloth, walking back to him, and dabbing at his chest and arms, trying to get the blood from the torn wounds.

"I told you it wasn't a good idea." You teased, gently running the cloth over the cuts and scrapes on his chest and shoulders, making sure the wounds were clean.

"It was a good idea," he retorted, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, "I would gladly go through the pain and torment if it meant I could have my way with you."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, replacing the bandages and checking the stitching on his wounds. He was right, it was nothing serious, just a few torn sutures.

"There," you murmured, stepping back and admiring your work. "Much better."

Daemon grinned and pulled you into his arms and you gently rested your head on his chest. You traced your fingers over his old scars, and the bandages that covered the newer ones, your eyelids growing heavy. He stroked your hair, a soft hum leaving him, reaching for your discarded robe to cover the two of you.

"We'll have to do this more often," he mused, a lazy smile tugging at his lips, as you shifted your head, placing a gentle kiss over the wound on his chest.

"Absolutely not," you replied, a teasing tone in your voice, "you're not allowed to get hurt anymore."

He scoffed, and held you tighter, kissing the top of your head, "I make no promises."

"I thought as much." You smiled, curling up closer to him. "Just promise you'll come back."

"Always." He murmured, closing his eyes and resting his head on yours.

You sighed, letting sleep take you, not wanting to move just yet. It wasn't long before the soft sounds of you and Daemon snoring filled the chambers, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you safe. Like he always did, like he always would.

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itsonlydana · 7 months ago

Text

"Can you meet me halfway (I'll meet you halfway)" | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader x Bard 👑 [king's special]

you went out clubbing on new years eve when a gorgeous rich couple hits on you and invites you back to their apartment to finish what you started right on the dancefloor

warnings/tags: NSWF! THIS IS ADULT CONTENT ✋️, modern!AU, threesome, oral sex (male & female), dirty talk, semi-public-sex, soft dom! bard and bratty dom!thranduil, protected sex, fingering, passing out during sex, slight overstimulation, age-gap (reader is of age, though its described that thranduil and bard are older), hairpulling, aftercare,

words: 13,8k

an: this is by far the dirtiest thing i've ever written and my god i'm not a smut writer; i get too flustered over my own writing lmao. Hopefully you can enjoy this out-of-character story even if it isn't new years anymore!

inspired by early 2000s club bangers like Kesha, Britney Spears, Black Eyed Peas (that's where the title came from) and Lady Gaga

+ masterlist +

🌿 reposts and comments or anonymous messages in my inbox are very appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

"What?!"

"I said," the barkeeper leaned closer and pushed a filled to the rim shotglass over the counter, "this one is from the pretty one to your right!"

With a myriad of people in this club who fit your definition of "pretty" you found yourself on the brink of shouting at the red-haired bartender once more.

This would mark the third attempt, given that the club's 2000s music was blaring to the extent that communication was damn near impossible if you weren't screaming or using your hands trying to get orders across the sticky, littered with neon glowstick wristbands counter.

Before you could ask her who the hell she'd meant, the bartender had turned away, leaving you to figure out the mystery man for yourself.

You lifted the shot glass to your nose and took a deep breath— pure tequila.

At least you would enjoy this one; the last few shots other men had sent over to you had been nothing but disgusting, ranging from vodka to Jägermeister and one you didn't even bother to drink.

The world spun a little when you turned your head over your shoulder and for a second the flashy lights blurred the people crowding the bar into one mass, unidentifiable and mushed together; then your eyes zeroed in on him and pretty didn't even begin to cover it.

Next to the bar, holding out his own shot glass in hands that could've fit three or five of them, stood a man that was intimidatingly gorgeous and decently tall even as he rested his hip cheekily against one of the chairs, elbow on the wooden top while he flicked his fingers against the rim of the glass.

Not even that he was just tall, and he was –surely taller than most of the men standing between you two –, but he had this quality about him that let him stand out of the crowd.

Maybe it was the hair, blonde like starlight and pulled into a long and messy ponytail, with just a few loose strands framing his strong jawline. Or maybe it was the smug look on his face, the smirk that tugged on his lips when you dragged your eyes over the see-through shirt that clung to his well... and oh so– so well-defined chest.

On any other occasion, you would have simply raised the glass and disappeared back into the crowd of dancing people, but tonight felt different.

New Year's Eve had that ring to it. The careless "Fuck it all, it's all going to shit anyway"-attitude.

Any newspaper or media marked today the last day of yet another frustrating, wonderful, soul-crushing, draining, exciting, and overall overwhelming year, full of things you regretted having done, and as you stared at the man meeting your gaze with a questioning arch of a dark eyebrow, you found yourself giving a flying fuck about whether you'll add another mark on that board.

There was a surge of power washing through your body as you toasted the glass in his direction before tipping it against your lips and letting the tequila rush into your mouth.

The alcohol went down burning, hot, and dry and left a warm trail down your throat into your stomach.

"I see you not only bear a resemblance to the devil, you drink like her as well," a sultry voice drawled, sufficiently loud for you to lift your head.

Somehow the man had managed to appear right next to you within seconds and got so close that you were confronted with a very exciting view of his chest.

You eyed it, naturally because who wouldn't take their time looking at the flexing pecs covered in silver glitter and sweat?

Slowly, you dragged your gaze upwards, only faltering for a moment at the sight of a pink tongue running over plush lips. You met his eyes again, this time with no more than half a meter separating you and you were glad your knees didn't buckle like they threatened to do.

"And what are you? Some angel that has fallen from heaven?" Your counter was weak, a bad example of what was usually some excellent flirting, if you dare say yourself, but it's all you could manage with those cerulean eyes staring down at you in interest.

He laughed, thank fucking god, and tilted his head to the side. "It must be fate that we met, is it not?"

"Buy me another drink and we'll see"

Somehow, it didn't surprise you that he simply raised his pointer finger and the server immediately rushed to prepare whatever order he'd signaled her.

"Unfair, I waited, like at least five minutes for some water," you complained, not really putting any real annoyance into it but pouting nonetheless for the effect.

It went a long way because the stranger stepped closer, up into the little bit of personal space one could have in an overcrowded club, and cooed, "What a shame. Who could ever pass such a lovely face and not serve you right away?"

"I don't know," you sighed and smiled at him sweeter than sugar, "I do know that we shouldn't let that tequila go to waste though"

"Then be a good girl and drink up"

Oh, yeah.

Suppose you hadn't already contemplated sleeping with him, that certainly solidified your decision.

This wasn't just fate, this must be compensation for all the shit you've been through this year, wrapped up nicely in 6 feet and more of dripping sex and sultry smiles.

Eyes locked, you both clinked the glasses together before throwing them back. You couldn't help it when your lashes flutter shut.

Once again, the tequila burned all the way down to your stomach, adding to the cocktail of drinks that lowered your inhibitions and made your core throb in excitement.

You would've asked him for salt and lemon if he hadn't looked so unbothered by the pure taste. His lips didn't twitch, while you're sure yours were pulled into a grimace.

"Thank you, Sir," the words left your mouth without a second thought.

Thinking, in general, started to become more of a theory than something you were willing to do tonight; much too exhausting if you could simply let your tongue run wild.

He rewarded you for that decision, for his eyes widened and he stepped even closer, now slotting one of those long legs - and fuck, was he really wearing leather pants? Who had access to your wet dreams?- between yours as he leaned down.

"I must say you caught my interest the moment I saw you on the dance floor," He placed a hand on the countertop, not touching you yet, though the invitation he gave you, the silent question for permission, spoke for itself.

The second move was on you to lure him in and you blinked up at him while you trailed your fingers over the arm, scratching hairless skin with the tip of your nails until it changed into the fishnet top and you placed the hand to rest on one strong shoulder. The red color of your nail polish made such a beautiful contrast to his fair skin that your mind conjured imagines of how they must look on other parts of him.

Surely, with the size of him…

Now that you initiated the contact, he drove forward with his second hand, and the large palm cupped your chin.

While the touch was hot in how it's delivered, so dominating, and fuck if that didn't send warm licks of pleasure down your spine, his hand itself was surprisingly cold.

The temperature in the club was almost unbearable, only manageable through refreshing drinks and a trip or two to the bathrooms, and the spikes of the cool touch fought the heat pooling in your body.

One of those silky locks of hair brushed your neckline, falling right into the cut out of your dress that his eyes shamelessly took in from his higher-up viewpoint.

You took a deep breath, maybe even pushed out your chest as he eyed it in the knowledge that the lace bra was showing through.

All you inhaled was the intoxicating smell of his cologne, vanilla (even though you suspected he is anything but...), and something sweet and without a doubt expensive.

You're addicted to it the moment it hit your nose and clouded your mind.

"Do you not believe that an appropriate thank you is in order?" he inquired; no, he demanded.

You decided to play dumb, not because you thought he's into that – on the contrary, he seemed the kind of man who admired eloquence and intellect rather than dullness – but because it's a game you both enjoyed playing.

There was intrigue in tip-toeing around what is most obvious (lust as well as the urge to rip each other's clothes off as soon as possible, maybe even a fuck in the bathrooms).

"I thought I already said thank you," you mused, pushing out your lower lip into a pout again, "and that lousy shot is hardly worth more than a few words. You can't expect something greater if there is nothing to thank for."

He raised a dark eyebrow – you wondered if he colored his hair or eyebrows – and the hand around your chin lifted your head to twist it right and left.

One smooth thumb brushed over the pout, and he clicked his tongue. "Now now, I would consider this greedy if you were not in the right. You poor thing must be exhausted after all the dancing"

His eyes flashed when yours widened; he really did notice you before, had watched you.

"Yes," he drawled as if he read your mind, and his lips curved into a smirk that flashed a row of perfect bright teeth, "I saw how you moved out there, how wanton you presented yourself. However, it did not escape my notice that you rebuffed anyone who dared to approach."

When you opened your mouth to say something, his finger swiped over your lip again. Without hesitation, you sucked on the fingertip, collecting a few drops of tequila that you made a show of swallowing.

The protest disappeared with it down your throat.

He was right, why deny it?

The way you danced was just an expression of how comfortable you felt in your own body, the rhythm provided by provocative music a tool to follow the movements.

Everything you did, you did for yourself, not for the men who attempted to touch you simply because they were captivated by the dancing. As if you would accept some clammy hands grabbing for you.

"Maybe it was wanton," you said after releasing his finger, but not without scratching your teeth over it.

His pupils dilated, his chest raised at a sudden inhale of air; he apparently underestimated you.

You nodded your head toward the dance floor, "maybe I came here to look for a good fuck, but it's my decision who I take and not theirs"

"As you should. Those boys who tried and failed miserably were amusing to watch. None of them were good enough for you, right, sweetheart?"

You hummed in agreement as well as disagreement. "I'm not searching for anyone good enough," you thought back to all the good-guys who had lured you in with promises of treasuring you only to become insufferable with their need to control in the end.

"Then what do you need?"

"I want someone bad," the tone in your voice was challenging, just like the stare you gave him. "I want someone who won't be afraid to break me"

There was a slight tug on your chin, his hand pulled you in slightly but any further without any movement from you, it would've cause a strain in your neck.

You craved it.

The blonde god, he must be, the thought became clearer with any passing second, a gift, a god, an angel, crushed his mouth against yours. There was a fleeting moment where you realized you didn't know his name, but then his other hand wrapped around your neck, and your teeth clashed, and you found yourself not caring one bit.

You're sure he wouldn't mind if you moaned "God" instead of his name. Maybe he would even get off to it.

Only one way to find out.

It turned out quite hard to manage saying anything at all, his kisses stole every last bit of oxygen, robbing you of the ability to string together words and turning you into a whimpering mess with his tongue and wandering hands.

He called you a devil yet here he was, corrupting you in a way that will ruin you for any other person.

"You taste divine," he sounded as breathless as you felt when you separated and dizziness cultivated in your lust-clouded head at the compliment rasped in that deep voice of his.

"Do not worry," he continued, smearing the string of spit that connected you over your plush lips, "If you allow me I will try my very best to break you"

Hell or heaven, wherever he was leading you right now, your need tripped over itself eagerly.

When was the last time you were this aroused? You felt yourself growing wetter and wetter, and that only through his words and kisses; the state he could push you into if he truly fucked you would be completely new territory, you realized.

A nod is all you could manage.

The last you saw on his face was a wide grin before he kissed you again, this time though, he moved on to your jaw and then your neck. You beared it to him by tilting your head, eyes falling on the ceiling where the neon lights hushed over black brick, coloring your sight while your face took on a flushed red.

The blond devil nipped and bit, sucked and scratched in a manner so animalistic you wouldn't have thought a surely unquestionably sophisticated man to be able to.

You whimpered again, and your hands rose to grab something, anything and you found that ponytail the most accessible. Your fingers twirled a few soft strands as you gasped when his teeth sunk into the delicate skin right where your neck and shoulder met, and the slight pain following wasn't unwelcome.

It made you feel alive.

You're close to pulling him away to the bathroom– an amused laugh to your side prevented that thought from festering any further.

"I'm away for one smoke and you just couldn' wait?"

Unable to think straight after the assault on your neck, it took a moment for you to come back to your senses that don't revolve around lips, kiss, bite, fuck, suck…

Your sight spun as you snapped your head back, nearly knocking your chin into the man still busy marking you up, unbothered that there was another man watching you and clearly waiting for an answer.

So you decided to do the only thing that must convince him to let go, and you pulled on his hair.

He growled, fucking growled, and his lips twisted, flashing his teeth again.

Your heart dropped into your wet panties until you found he wasn't pinning you to the floor with the hard stare but the new arrival.

"Did you not see that I was busy?" he snapped at the dark-haired man, and while you felt slightly scared he was going to rip his handsome head off, the man only sported an annoyed expression.

"Yes, exactly. If I remember correctly, we decided to wait until I get back?"

Decided, waited?

"You took too long"

The man threw his head back in a raspy laugh, "Incorrigible bastard. Will I have to sit you down with a toy to keep you busy while I'm away?"

The blonde turned back to you and smirked, "That will not be necessary as I am quite capable of finding my own toys"

"Hey!" you cut into the conversation, not amused that they talked as if you weren't right there, "I'm not a fucking toy!"

Both men turned to you now, towering over you in their height, and mustering you so intensely that you slightly squirmed under their gaze.

The man with salt and pepper hair chuckled. "I am so sorry, Darlin'. I hope Thranduil didn't play too hard?"

Considering that you still felt the scratch of his teeth on your neck and the wet spit he left there, you felt like some kind of chew toy one would throw their dog but nevertheless, you pushed your chin up high. "Nothing I can't take."

The blonde's, Thranduil's, hand on your waist pulled you into him possessively. "I told you there is some bite behind the pretty face," he smirked.

While it didn't escape you that this hinted to a previous conversation, a plan formed over you, it's the attractiveness of them that led you to turn a blind eye.

"Weren't you the one biting a minute ago?" The music made it hard to talk normally and you stood up on your tiptoes to yell the words, but all that it resulted in is a deep chuckle.

"Oh, I like you," the other man laughed as well.

You took him in, the tight pants that showed off strong thighs and the black and gold shirt with more buttons open than actually buttoned that presented muscles and hair leading down and oh–

"What a surprise," you said, looking up to meet his hungry eyes, "I find I like you too" You turned your head to Thranduil, who smirked and sent you a wink that had you blushing, "So how's this gonna work? I'm going to be blunt and say that five minutes ago I was convinced you and I were on the same page, what's with your friend?"

"Husband"

"Husband?!" you parroted, unconvinced yet when your eyes fell on their hands a gold ring flashed back at you from both fingers.

Heat curled in your body like molten lava at lustful and otherwise utterly inappropriate thoughts this provoked of these two married man having their way around your body.

Thranduil bowed his head lower again, playfully nipping at the part of your neck that surely was already bruising. "I have to admit that I promised Bard to wait for him to come back, though I found I could not follow through when I saw you approaching the bar."

You swallowed. Hard. Not that it helped your very dry throat.

Bard came closer, reclaiming your attention.

His face, more defined than Thranduil's, was adorned with a rugged layer of dark stubble, crow's feet framing his vivid green eyes when he smiled at you. He looked the picture of a soft soul, but you remembered that this couple was picking up a third partner on New Year's Eve, so you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

There was some spice behind the old-armchair-and-book-vibes.

"Will that be a problem, Darlin'?" he asked in that ruff voice, posh and Welsh accent dripping over you.

A refreshment to hear that accent in this city, so enthralling in how it wrapped around you; especially that damn nickname. There was no way you would say no to him.. both of them if he called you Darling one more time.

You shook your head. "No. I think I'll just need a bit more liquid encouragement if I am to survive this night."

"Oh, what a shame," Thranduils lips left where they continued to suck and lap on your neck, peppering kisses, leaving bruises, and moved to your earlobe. His voice dropped as much into a whisper as the music allowed it, "I had my hopes on fucking you into heavenly spheres"

There went the last string of sanity holding you back.

Hearing a man who was seemingly hell-bent on avoiding abbreviations like "don't" and "can't" at all costs speak in such a filthy way was something you never knew you needed.

"I hope you can follow through with that," you trailed a hand over his smooth chest, collecting glitter on your way and smeared it over his throat where his adams apple bobbed, "because if you break that promise like you did the one with your husband, I will just have to let him finish the job"

Thranduil yanked you back into him, back into a kiss that seared itself into your memories and burned the touch, taste, and movement of his lips into every cell of your body.

It was almost aggressive how much teeth went into the kiss, how he bit down and all you could do was gasp and whimper.

Briefly, you thought of the poor people around you, because if all you wanted to do was get a drink and were confronted with one person devouring the other, you would be seething but right now you were being the one he kissed, whose sounds he swallowed and whose hands held you to him.

So fuck them.

With your senses heightened now that you wanted these men all over you, the sensation of Bard leaning in, hair tips tickling your neck as he licked Thranduil's throat, led you to pull away from the blonde. You watched as Bard sprinkled something flaky and white onto the spot wet with spit, and only when he lifted a shot glass the thought crystalized that he salted Thranduil for you.

"Come on," Thranduil's smirk taunted you just as much as his words, "What is another lousy shot? We even made it easy for you poor baby, after you could not take the first one easily"

Rolling your eyes at the mocking, you dove in to copy Bard. The salt sticking to his neck coated your tongue and you took longer than necessary to lick the skin free of it. The rush that this sent through you was exhilarating.

As soon as you were finished, your head got tilted backward firm and yet gently.

Rough fingertips cupped your neck and one thumb moved to press against your jaw, as you felt a solid chest in your back.

"Open wide, Darlin'," Bard ordered and encouraged you to follow him as his other thumb pushed between your teeth.

You obeyed, never once breaking eye contact with Thranduil and taking in his lust-blown pupils, as Bard poured the tequila into your mouth, directly down your throat. Then, while you pulled a grimace, shutting your eyes for a second, Bard turned you around, sandwiching you between them.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw the green slice of lemon between his teeth and following the wink he sent you; you knew exactly what was to come next.

Kissing Bard was very different from getting kissed by Thranduil.

His lips were slightly cracked, not soft and they tasted like smokey whiskey and cigarettes, with hints of coffee and lime instead of fruity cocktails and rose chapstick. Lifting one hand to his face, your fingertips grazed the rough beard growing on his sharp jawline, the stubble scratching you in a promising way.

While you had been surprised when Thranduil had kissed you, you eagerly answered Bard's kiss with fervor. Your mind already teetered on the brink of shutting down and you poured the desperation into his mouth with a moan.

He chuckled, drawing back just enough that he could spit out the lemon – sucked empty – before wiping his thump over your lips.

"Sweet thing"

There was a softness in that gesture, but only short-lived before he kissed you again. His hands trailed your body, coming to rest on either side of your neck again and even that slight of pressure loaded a million images through your head.

A second pair of hands joined him on you, it's confusing until a large body pressed into your back and you realized- it was only Thranduil.

Well, only…

It had been clear that the man could and would not accept being reduced to anything. He radiated an attitude that you would call bratty but with his expensive clothes, that rich perfume, and the wave of the hand that brought him drinks, aristocratic diva seemed more fitting.

His demanding character became clear when his hands set on your waist, immediately fingering the seam of your jeans, pulling you more into him by the belt loops.

You followed that tug, though Bard deepened the kiss to keep you by him, his tongue exploring your mouth and enticing you to breathlessly moan against his smiling lips.

Despite the loud music, Thranduil's voice was loud in your ear.

"As stunning as you right now, I can not help but imagine you squirming on our silk sheets– moving those bewitching hips of yours," Thranduil playfully took the burning tip of your ear into his mouth, "If you want to follow this invitation, of course"

"Whatever you just said," Bard broke away from you to look over your shoulder at his husband, "It better have been the idea of finally getting out of here" he pushed his hips against yours for you to feel the hard outline of him, "because I don't want to wait til the ball drops"

"Is that a metaphor?"

"Thran–" There was a warning edge in Bard's voice, and you felt Thranduil huff.

"Funny, how this old man can not take a joke as soon as he is aroused"

It's absurd how casually he said this while his hands slid down the front of your jeans, earning himself a gasp from you.

Unashamed as a man only his status can be, he toyed with the seam of your underwear, not caring one bit for the glare of his husband.

Your body arched into him, answering the question he had whispered earlier.

The only thing keeping you from getting down on your knees to worship him and his obviously talented fingers was the blaring music, reminding you that you were not yet somewhere private and very much on display.

You briefly wondered if these two were rich enough to simply pay their way out of a public indecency arrest. You wouldn't be surprised if they wouldn't even get arrested.

Since Thranduil made no sign of disengaging himself from you, you stepped away from him, right against Bard's chest.

"Shall we go? Your husband mentioned luxury sheets which I bet are more comfortable than a threesome on the dance floor"

The way out of the club presented itself as more difficult than you would have thought.

With Bard shoving a path through the dancing crowd in front of you, holding on to one hand, Thranduil breathing down your neck and you pausing now and again because "Oh my gosh, I love this song!" it took a lot longer than necessary.

Not that any one of you minded.

Lost in the mass of people shouting, dancing, and pushing you three closer together and the tequila in your bloodstream you ended up undulating to Nicki Minaj's 'Pound The Alarm' completely lost on the fact that both men had stopped to watch you.

The lights were colorful and sharp and in their hues, Bards and Thranduil's jawlines looked even sharper tinted red, blue, green, and whenever the disco ball flashed white across their faces the lust in their eyes caused shivers on every part of you.

Thranduil's hands moved to your lower abdomen, making it easy to grind against him as you raised your hands to Bard's strong shoulders.

Two huge pairs of hands gripped your waist from either side and held you steady and close to themselves, keeping everyone else from getting any nearer than they allowed.

"Fucking hell– Darlin' you drive me crazy!" Bard yelled over the music as you suddenly decided to drop down intact with the beat, dragging your nails over his torso.

You laughed, low and full-heartedly.

Coming up, his hands moved to the flushed skin that your shirt had revealed by riding up, holding you tight to sweep you away into a kiss.

One thigh, leather, and flexing muscles shoved itself between your thighs and you responded eagerly, grinding against it without a second thought.

Just when you thought you were ready to finally go, the song ended and faded into yet another pop hit. 'LoveGame' by Lady Gaga and intact of the low thumping beat, Thranduil's hips circle against your behind, pressing what was an impressive hardness into your arse while his deep voice switched from singing to humming the lyrics.

One of his hands spread over your abdomen, the other arm blindly reached for Bard and pulled him into a kiss right over your head.

Amid the mass of sweaty people and the multicolor array of colors flashing over Thranduil's blonde hair, the 2000s music blaring through the speakers and resonating in every cell of your fevered body, they looked hot enough for the porn industry to sign them under contract.

You were never making it out of the club.

You did make it out eventually, sweat dripping down your temple, Thranduil's chest in your back whenever you stumbled, his hands steadying you.

On what you assumed was an oversight or blind eye of the club owners the crowd had doubled in the last hour.

Far too many people joined the floor and even with Bard's commanding presence leading you it had been close to impossible to step forward and not swerve out of the way of someone drunk.

Outside, the line curved around the block, and those who waited or didn't get into the club or even just hung in groups celebrating on the streets blocked the whole sidewalk.

A number of fireworks were already soaring into the air, sent up there by early birds who couldn't wait until midnight – cheered up by loud excited screams and laughter as the dark night sky lit up here and there with colorful explosions.

Quite sobered up, the dancing had contributed to that, you stared at them.

"How the fuck are we supposed to get out of here?" you asked and crossed your arms in front of you; the winds were biting cold and you hadn't bothered bringing a jacket, "It's madness."

"We will just get a cab"

You barked out a laugh though Bard stayed completely serious.

"Wait, that wasn't a joke?" you rubbed your palms over the naked skin, still warm and thrumming with the afterglow of the unbearable heat of the club, although the cold fought hard and unfairly.

"No, sweetheart, it wasn't," Thranduil said, not bothered by the chaos of people pushing each other, waving their hands like they're trying to flag down a spaceship.

On this day, the chances for that to happen were more likely than actually getting a cab.

He took one step into the busy street, and you yelped, overcome by the shock that he just walked into fucking traffic, his long ponytail swaying with his steps.

Then, like movie magic, a car swerved to the side and stopped right next to Thranduil.

Bard pulled you along, your hand cradled to his chest so as not to lose you. Thranduil opened the door, gracefully sitting down behind the empty passenger seat.

You stumbled onto the back seat next to him, and mumbled a half-hearted "Hello" to the driver, who gave you a nod – a nod, an hour before midnight, from a cap driver, fucking miracles– before shut the plastic window close.

"Holy crap," you exhaled. "Is this what the high life's like? Getting drinks and cabs without any fucking effort?"

Despite the crude and cutting words swinging in their direction, Bard and Thranduil chuckled. The synchronized deep sound reverberated in the quiet cab, warming up the space instantly.

"Do you really think that this" – Thranduil languidly gestures to all of him – "takes no effort?"

Bard huffed. He leaned into you as if he wanted to whisper a secret, but didn't lower his voice: "We were supposed to be here five hours ago. Took him that long to figure out what to wear." He shot a teasing grin at his husband.

"Oh, I have had enough of your whining," In one elegant movement Thranduil folded one long leg over the other. The point of his boot caught your shin in a soft tap that drew your attention to him.

He smirked, one eyebrow raised. "If you are interested, though, I could show you what it is like to ride the waves of the high life"

"Is that a metaphor?"

"No," Bard's lips ghosted over your neck, peppering more kisses to the skin there, "A promise for an unforgettable high"

You were unable to think of what they could propose.. well, you could, but they wouldn't, not here in this cap, right?

Bard's legs were spread a little far apart and, fuck, the flickering lights of the city flying by highlighted a very prominent bulge that he made no effort of hiding. Was he going commando?!

Your eyes snapped back, burning a hole into the roof of the cab.

A hand fell behind you on the headrest at the same moment as Thranduil's cold fingers slipped onto your thigh.

Thranduil's hand snuck to your jeans and played with the button and zipper before,

Oh-

he opened your jeans and immediately slid his cold, long, slender fingers down your panties.

Oh, fuck

Your hips twitched into his hand and you had to bite down on your finger to muffle the gasp that itched behind your teeth.

Without a care in the world, Thranduil cupped your sex, mumbling something to himself under his breath that sounded like a "So fucking wet- for us?" and worked his middle finger into you.

Pulling it out again, he started circling your clit, smearing your own slick over it, moving right over the spot where your nerve endings were sparking white and hot and you shuddered uncontrollably.

The chill of his fingertips heightened your sensitivity. Still flushed all hot from the club, you instinctively arched upward, a soft gasp escaping your lips as Thranduil's fingers tapped against your swollen wet clit.

The noise prompted his gaze to lock onto yours.

Your gasp broke off as your hips nearly flew off the seat and it was only for the belt snapping tightly against your lower abdomen that your head didn't make contact with the roof.

That, and the arm Bard put around your shoulders. He held you down and gave you his biceps to let your head fall against something that wasn't the uncomfortable seatrest.

Your cheeks flushed under Thranduils scrutiny, as well as at the general scene and obscenity of everything, and a subtle smirk played on his lips.

"Do you enjoy that?" His voice was flirty, and while you want to retort that it should be very clear how much you liked his fingers fucking into you, you only managed a nod.

"Say it." He leaned forward, a teasing glint in his eyes. His fingers stopped, clearly waiting for you to obey his order. "Use your words, you still know how, right? I haven't even started, clearly there must be something you could tell me."

"Yes," your admission was barely a whisper, but it sufficed.

Thranduil hummed, using his other hand to open your legs as wide as the tight jeans allowed it before he worked two agile fingers into your throbbing cunt.

You stared at him through half-lidded eyes, watching his relaxed demeanor while fingering you open without caring about anything else.

The heel of his hand pressed into your pelvis, giving him a reasonably steady hold in the jolting cab so that he could hit a spot inside you with precision and with every, goddamn, perfect, thrust of his fingers that made you pant out.

"Thran-" the nickname you heard Bard call him slipped out unconsciously, it's the only thing you could pull out of the depth of your mind, "Thran.. please"

"Beggin' already?" Bard chuckled, "Darlin' you have seen nothing yet and here you are, beggin' to cum in the back of a cab."

"Bard you have no idea how fucking wet she is. She's dripping down my hand, squeezing my fingers, and fuck she's so tight," Thranduil muttered and as he slipped his other hand to the one slipping and sliding against your g-spot in a maddening relentless rhythm, he rubbed them over your folds.

He collected some of your wetness on those fingers, circling your clit again before pulling them away, out of your pants, and to your horror, he held them up into the air, inspecting how his fingers glistened in the city lights.

He rubbed them together, all right in the view of the rear back mirror of the cab driver, who – thank god – kept his eyes on the road and only turned up the radio in unspoken ignorance of what was happening in his car.

God, you hoped these men would tip him adequately.

"Here," Thranduil reached his arm out past your half-opened lips and for a moment you thought he was going to offer you his fingers, but he leaned further forward.

A gasp broke out of you as you watched Bard open his mouth and greedily took both fingers right between his lips, and.. sucked.

His eyes fell shut with a contented sigh as if he were tasting his favorite drink.

You saw his tongue run thoroughly over Thranduil's patiently waiting fingers, cleaning them off every last bit of you, and god, you wanted to be those fingers so damn bad at that moment.

Then he looked at you again. There was such a deep hunger in those eyes that would look beautifully between your legs, brown hair falling messily into his sight as he ate you out.

Meanwhile, Thranduil's fingers inside you moved harder and faster, curling to brush every sensitive spot of your walls, in, out, in, another curl, and then out.

You clenched your entrance in anticipation, the feeling of two of his fingers filling you this deliciously and continuously.

You were so so close, almost there–

"Shit, you're the sweetest. I think I'll eat you for breakfast tomorrow"

The abrupt halt of the cab barely registered for you; instead, it finally propelled you over the edge.

Thranduil's precise movement hit that spot inside you perfectly, crooking his fingers just right to brush against it. Combined with Bard's downright filthy promise, you nearly let out a scream as the powerful orgasm surged through you and you had to flex your muscles so you didn't continue riding his hand.

Thranduil, however, didn't stop, even though there was no way he didn't know you climaxed and he kept up the same pace, same fucking precision and pressure that your body convulsed around those long talented fingers and you couldn't even go anywhere, the seatbelt cut off your escape to the front and you were so far into the seat that wasn't an option as well, and it took a soft broken whimper, for words were long lost, for Thranduil to press a kiss to your neck before he sucked his fingers dry.

Your legs were still shaking as the elevator took you up to the penthouse at the top of the skyscraper the cab had stopped in front of.

Four mirrors gave you a splendid view of Bard's broad back as he crowded you against one of the walls, his thick fingers down your jeans again, as he mouthed hot kisses onto your neck.

"Gonna have to work you open," Bard grunted, his slippery fingers curling inside your cunt in a sinful squelch that sounded absurdly loud in the confined space of the elevator. "You're really too tight, don't wanna hurt you"

Thranduil watched the whole scene leaning at the railing, hands curled around the pole behind him as his hips twitched whenever you let out another whimper; your hands trying to get a hold on his husband's shoulders.

The ride was far too short, Bard's fingers not fast enough for you to reach another peak though the constant movement kept your head in such a nice empty mindless space that you didn't complain.

As soon as the doors opened Thranduil led the way, sauntering into the darkness illuminated by the first exploding fireworks. He pulled on the tie holding his hair up and flung it away let his hair flow down his back, ending just barely over his exquisite arse.

You didn't get to see much of the penthouse, all three of you were very eager to take this party finally somewhere comfortable and you only made out a giant white couch in front of a fireplace, an open kitchen with two glasses, one crystal with golden stains of whiskey, and the other high, the rim still dripping red wine, and a few bookshelves.

"You can get the full tour tomorrow," Bard said while you two kicked away your shoes, leaving them behind on the dark wooden parquet.

You stumbled over his left sneaker and halted in your tracks at the offer. While you had considered his promise of breakfast a spur-of-the-moment chit-chat, it now settled in your head that this wouldn't be like any one-nightstand you had in the past.

This observation only solidified as Bard caught your hand and raised it to press an open-mouthed kiss to your palm. "Do you need anything before we go into the bedroom? Any wishes or no-gos? Safeword?"

"Red," you immediately answered, and he nodded in acknowledgment, "and no, well– maybe hold me a bit afterward?" You blushed at the question though this should be the least embarrassing thing after all these two did to you in the span of a few hours. You continued to ramble, "And sometimes I cry, so.. you don't have to stop then. Sometimes I'm overwhelmed but you can continue your.. thing. Don't bother, I'll be fine on my own–"

Bard's eyebrows scrunched together the more you babbled, the look in his eyes becoming more confused until he shushed you with a quick kiss.

"Darlin', there is no need to explain what you want or don't want. If this is what you need then we won't question those demands," his eyes wandered over your face, making sure you were listening; which you were, heart pounding fast in your chest.

"And it's important you don't push yourself just because of us. It's not our intention to use you for a simple release. Thranduil and I don't take whoever is the first best, especially not to our home. We're looking for someone who suits us, with whom we feel completely comfortable and that should also be equally important to you."

You trusted them both, Bard as well as Thranduil.

The fact that Bard was asking you, nevertheless listening and responding to you was feeding something very primal.

They had done this before, unlike you. They had experience in this, but you were willing to learn, to submit yourself to these imposing men who surely would change something inside you forever.

The pride you felt at his admission of choosing you specifically mingled with the need to get this perfect man inside you quickly, especially now that he said such meaningful and reassuring words.

You nodded and croaked out a soft: "Alright, then please hold me after we're done" which he rewarded with another soft yet sensual kiss.

"Good girl"

Then his hands traveled south and slapped your ass so that your hips flew towards him.

"Now, let's not keep Thran waiting any longer. He tends to get a bit… impatient if left on his own for too long, as you've probably noticed."

Bratty.

You were so on the money earlier.

With that as well as the guess that the blonde was more kinky than the vanilla of his perfume.

At that moment the deep voice of his called out from down the hall.

"I swear, if you two started without me, I will fuck you until neither of you can walk for a week!"

Bard chuckled, then caught your widened eyes.

"He's joking," he said and you let out a relieved breath.

Bard pulled you along, a wink thrown over his shoulder.

"Mhm, partly; he won't fuck me tonight."

You needed a deep breather to ready yourself for what was about to happen, then you nearly tripped over your own feet as you raced after him through the dark hallway and to the only opened door.

You crashed fully into Bard, who for whatever reason, stood right in the doorframe of their bedroom.

"It seems Thranduil got tired of waiting," he chuckled and you wondered what he could mean when he turned sideways.

Your eyes instantly fell onto Thranduil, spread out on the enormous bed in the corner of the room– completely naked except for black, very tight boxers.

There was no air in your lungs, not a single breath left to take as you drank in the sight of him, fair and marble skin shining in the moonlight that fell through the big window next to the bed; the remaining glitter gave his body an unearthly glow. His hair fanned out all over the pillows, silver against grey, moving with him as he lazily lifted his head to stare at you.

There was an indescribable beauty in this man, he could lounge in the bed, his long legs opened in an invitation that you yearned to take, and his lean yet softly defined body posed as if he was waiting for someone to draw him.

"There you are," the corner of his mouth twitched into his smirk, "Strip"

His words, spoken in a gentle tone, boomed loud in your ears.

Your hands flew to your jeans in no second, though they were stopped by Bard, who covered them with his larger, rougher ones.

"No, Darlin', let me"

He stood behind you, taking over the job of undressing you. He did it much slower than you would have, not ripping everything apart in a hurry to obey the command of the blonde whose eyes were heavy on your body, taking in every bit of skin that got revealed.

Bard unbuttoned your jeans first, then his large and warm hands rubbed over your arms.

"Are you cold, sweetheart?"

You shook your head. "No, not cold. I– I feel like I'm burning up"

It was the truth, and nothing but the full, honest truth; you felt as hot as you did in the club, though the reason wasn't the hundreds of people and the alcohol but rather the sight of Thranduil, whose hands trailed over his own body and teasingly played with the waistband of his underwear.

Bard followed your fixated gaze to his coyly smiling husband.

"Should we turn down the heating? We would not want you melting away," Thranduil blinked his long lashes at you in faux-concern. He must've known the goosebumps covering your skin were his doing.

You would've rolled your eyes if you were able to look somewhere else than Thranduil. The man had to be magical, how else could you explain the spell he put you under if not for some supernatural powers?

"Stop the teasing, Thran," Bard cut in, slipping his hands under your shirt and kissing your shoulder. You melted into his touch, comforted that he took care of you like this when he continued, "This poor sweet thing hasn't even all her clothes off. It would be a shame to make her blush like this and not see it"

"Oh, and who's fault is that? Certainly not mine, I have been waiting so long I was close to wrapping things up myself"

Bard pulled your shirt over your head, covering your sight long enough for a wave of braveness to surge through you. "I sure hope you wrap it up," you said and heard both of them snicker.

"Do not worry," Thranduil began.

"There is enough protection for weeks," Bard finished and the band of your bra snapped against your skin.

Despite the warmness of the room your nipples puckered as soon as the lace fell away, growing hard under the avid eyes, cerulean and green, so different yet similar in the way both are dominated by the blackness of their pupils.

Bard's hands came up to your front and he cupped your breasts first tenderly, mapping out how perfectly they fit into his large palm, then rougher as his fingers found the hard buts of your nipples and rubbed them between them until every pinch had your legs trembling and you whimpering.

You cried out, body bucking on its own.

"Oh how nice," Thranduil's comment was full of sarcasm, followed by a click of his tongue against teeth, "Why, let me lay here and play all on your own, why not? After all, I am nothing but pure decoration"

Bard huffed a puff of hot air onto you, "Grow a pair of tits like this and maybe I will get to you first"

Thranduil's dark eyebrows raised to his hairline, passing an unspoken threat that had Bard scoff before he grabbed the waistband of your jeans. He pulled them down slowly, getting on his knees as he did and you were acutely aware of how wet your panties were when you feel his lips kiss your ass.

"This must be uncomfortable," he murmured, holding one leg to help you step out of the jeans. He kneaded your thigh, fingertips against muscles and flesh, before moving on to do the same on your other leg.

He used the moment where you lifted the second leg, to dive his hand to your cunt again, dragging his knuckles over the dark-colored patch, and he laughed as you buckled into the touch. "Oh, the fun we'll have"

Finally, undressed to your panties that cling to your crotch like a second skin, you were free to walk toward the bed. You would've lied if you said you didn't swing your hips a little bit, relishing the raspy groan this evoked from Bard.

Feeling like you should await further commands you stopped (un)patiently when your knees hit the mattress.

Thranduil's lips curved into a devilish smirk at this sign of submission.

He let his legs fall open wider, waving in an elegant gesture into the space in between. "Come here, sweetheart"

The bed was raised and you rose to your tiptoes and, making sure your eyes were trained on Thranduil, you crawled over the mattress, knees digging into the silk duvet he had promised you.

He reached out as soon as he could, one hand curving around your neck to pull and you landed directly on him, legs spread on either side of his thighs, hands somehow, despite their nervous trembling, found their place against his collarbones, standing out from his broad chest rather delicate.

Not that you hadn't suspected and expected him to be big, but, fuck, he was long and hard, a pulsing pressure against your stomach.

"Be a good girl and remove this unnecessary fabric, will you?" Thranduil whispered and you scrambled to lose your panties, throwing them off into the distance only to turn again and find him smirking. "I meant my boxers, but it fills me with joy seeing you this eager"

Lowering your head to hide your laughter, you grabbed his boxers. He lifted his hips just barely for you to pull on the black boxers, rolling them over his tight ass, and after giving you a loving pat on the head, he crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing into the pillows.

His cock sprung free from the containment of the tight boxers, twitching as it hit his abdomen and you felt your throat dry out.

Of course, he was smooth everywhere; not one bit of hair covering the flushed beauty of him.

You sat up, hands pushed into his flexing thighs, to take him all in. No one should look this perfect, this utterly ridiculously beautiful, right? There should be something on him, a scar, a mole, anything to prove he wasn't straight-up carved out of marble, but you found nothing.

You glared at him as you sat down a bit lower, ass in the air, and spit into your hand before you wrapped it around his cock. The sight of his size had your mouth water, and seeing how your fingers couldn't meet had your cunt clench around nothing.

No way any of their preparation had been enough for this intimidating masterpiece of Mother Nature's creation.

"Tell me, how is it fair that you are rich and have a dick like that?" you asked and just as Thranduil opened his pretty lips for probably another witty answer, you interrupted him by letting his cock slide over your tongue deep into your throat until you gagged around him.

Whatever he wanted to say was forgotten.

Instead, Thranduil groaned a low: "Fuck" and threw his head back.

You wanted to see him come undone, to unravel him until he lost this bratty attitude and reduce him to that wild behavior he had shown in the club.

You had the feeling that that's only possible if he thought he had the upper hand.

You bobbed your head, taking him a bit past what you could manage without gagging before lifting your head again.

"Use me," you said and his eyes flew open.

"What?"

Cocking your head, you shot him a confused look, while spreading his precum over the head of his cock with your thumb. "I said," – you spit again, mixing it and coating his dick further – "Fuck - my - mouth"

Every word was punctuated with a kiss to his slit, and you swore you could see his eyes darken further; black taking over blue – desire fought whatever held him back to fucking give into whatever you offered.

Behind you, Bard swore nearly breathlessly: "Fuck me" though you stayed focused on Thranduil.

"Are you sure?" his voice was raw, his facade of composure cracking ever so slightly.

"Wouldn't ask if I wasn't"

His hand was behind your head in seconds, drawing you down his cock again and you opened your mouth wide to not hurt him. He pushed you down until you choked on him and although your eyes watered, you couldn't take them away from the sight of his mouth and the low throaty groans that passed the opened lips.

The lack of air cut off your moan, the tip of his cock bullying the back of your throat just barely short of painful. Reminding yourself to breathe through your nose, you inhaled deeply.

"Good girl," Thranduil's hips bucked, pulling back until he was only half-lodged in your throat, "Just like that, fuck"

He gave an experimental thrust, keeping his sharp eyes on you, his hand in your neck, ready to stop if he saw any discomfort, but all you showed him was how you choked on spit and salty precum.

"Oh, you sweet girl. Behaving so well," his voice was ruined, and he thrusted again, punching away the little breath left in the tiniest space that wasn't occupied by his thick cock.

This was by far the first time you have ever given a blowjob, but it was a first to let someone use you like this. Controlling when you could suck or when you just had to take what he gave you.

And oh– how much you loved it.

So much that you wanted to rub your thighs together only to be stopped by rough hands grabbing them.

A confused sound left you, no more than a choked "Huh?" vibrating around Thranduils cock continuing to fuck into you, just like you had asked him, hindering you from turning to see what Bard was up to.

He didn't leave you wondering for long, just as Thranduil's thrusts took on a sharper edge, hitting the back of your throat every time, filling your mouth like no man ever had, Bard's flattened tongue licked through your exposed cunt and the moan you let out sounded so pornographic you surprised yourself.

"Do it again," Thranduil took in the sight of your wet lips, the drool dripping out of the corners of your mouth, his cock disappearing so deep inside you that felt him in your lungs, "Fuck, Bard, do that again now!–"

He talked for you, praising Bard as he licked your pussy again, this time using his fingers to pry you open further and there was the delicious scratch of his beard stubbles, burning on your skin.

You cried out, tried to do, stopped by Thranduils cock stuffing your mouth again and again, his hands curled around your neck as if he wanted to feel the imprint of himself pushing through.

"Prettiest woman out there," Thranduil groaned. His thump reached over to stuff some of the spit back into your mouth, opening your jaw up impossibly wide.

Bard's tongue was as precise as their fingers have been, covering your folds, fucking into your hole and sucking on your clit with expertise that no man should be allowed to have. Two of his wet fingers slid into you while his tongue mercilessly attacked your clit, the other hand buried itself in the soft flesh of your ass, kneading and pulling, opening you up further for his face.

"C'mon," his voice was muffled by your thighs, drowning you in his accent while he drowned his tongue inside your opening, circling the rim in maddening figures, "Give me one more, gorgeous."

Electricity flowed through your body, hot tingles of nothing but fire spreading into your fingertips wrapped around the inches of Thranduil's cock that didn't fit into your mouth, to your nipples that brushed against his muscular thighs.

"Fuck Bard, please–"

Not sure what you were begging for, for his tongue to stop the attack on your clit, for his fingers constantly finding that spot inside your spongy walls that had you wailing and rolling your hips into his face, or for him to get on with it and get you over that build-up.

Bard kept going, somehow finding a rhythm that matched the one his husband hammered down your throat and you were helplessly stuck trying to hold on.

Until you lost the fight to keep yourself upright. Your hands slipped on Thranduil's thighs, your body crashed down and if it wouldn't have been for his quick reaction of pulling himself out of you, you would for sure have impaled your head on his still hard and throbbing cock.

Instead, it just wetly slapped your face as you collapsed into his lap.

Bard's rough hands grip your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he maneuvered your legs around to give his head more space.

The other pair of hands, soft, delicate, Thranduil's, cupped your face, lifting it gently yet demanding, giving him the perfect view of your cute face, all scrunched up as you gasped and mewled, and your backside, ass arched into the air under Bard's commanding hands.

"Such a beautiful thing," Thranduil mused.

His fingers danced over your cheeks until he used another whine, another desperate moan when Bard alternated between open-mouthed, sloppy kisses and using the point of his tongue, to slip his thumb into your mouth.

As soon as he did, you closed your lips around him. Staring up at him, begging him silently for a release only Bard could give you, you started sucking on his finger as you would have done on his cock if not for the stars dancing in your field of vision.

Thranduil tutted, "So needy as well. Bard, if you were so kind as to stop, I can not stand seeing her this distraught. I think you are working her up far too much"

"Nooo! Please, please, I'm alright, I'm– please, so close," The desperate scream that came out of your mouth at his words was probably loud enough to alert the neighbors, followed by a cry and sob as Bard kissed your clit one last time.

"Of course, babe" The words were muffled, spoken directly into your dripping cunt.

Which he then shuffled away from, beard stubble scratching you, his fingers letting loose on your thighs.

"No, no please, please," you were already babbling, reaching behind you in a sad effort to force him back between your legs, "Please, I'll be good, please!"

"You sweet thing," Thranduils arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you up into a kiss, "I think–" his voice dropped deeper and you heard the rustle of plastic, felt Bard's hand rolling the condom over Thranduil's cock pressing into your stomach, "–you have behaved so well, you deserve a reward"

You nodded fast, legs spread wide apart sitting on his thighs and your cunt stretched open.

Staring into his eyes, you saw how much his pupils were dilated, how he only watched you, only saw you.

You could see and feel his chest lift as his cock slid through your folds, finding you drenched from all their playing around.

"Eyes stay on me"

Your pussy was wet enough for the tip of his cock to slip right into you and right away you wanted to shut your eyes at the sensation of him spearing you open.

"Please–," you gasped, and tried to move your hips to get more of him into you than just those few inches, but he didn't budge, didn't loosen his grip on your waist, "Please, Thranduil. Green, my color is green, fuck me, I can take it!"

"Yes, and if not," his voice was back to the self-controlled powerful tone, "I'll make you take it, sweetheart."

Thranduil let go of you the second he snapped his hips upwards and suddenly, you were split open.

You keened as his cock sunk into you in one fast, swift, hard movement. There was a burn, in your thighs as you flexed them, in your throat as you cried out, in your pussy at the intrusion of his long cock.

When Thranduil bottomed out, his head shoved against your cervix, the whole length forcing you to stretch, to make room, and fuck you wanted your pussy to be carved into the shape of that perfect cock.

It should've been uncomfortable, but you only groaned as you appreciated the second he gave you to relax while making room where they shouldn't be some.

"Fuck–" he moaned, "you are tight, so fucking tight"

Bard moved next to you, and you could only get one short look at his naked body, the brown hair coating his muscular chest, the happy trail leading down to his thick cock, before Thranduil began to fuck you.

His strokes were fast, hips snapping into you and nearly throwing you off his lap at the speed and brute force and you fell into his chest, clinging to his arms.

This, him rutting into you like your pussy could quench a year-long thirst at a punishing pace, this was surely the epitome of getting fucked. How he knew how to fuck you just right, hitting your g-spot with every single thrust was a riddle you couldn't and wouldn't want to solve; not with his cock penetrating you hard enough you swore you felt him in your throat as you called for him through moans.

You had no chance of even trying to meet his thrusts, not while he pounded into you like a madman.

"F-Fuck, good fucking girl– so tight," Thranduil groaned out his gritted teeth, his face turning a beautiful shade of rosé, "Even tighter than you, Bard–"

Bard, you totally forgot he was even there, laughed and moved on the bed again, slipping back behind you, "Yeah? Tell me more"

And you wanted to scream, to yell at them to stop talking in words that only added to the overstimulation, that spun around your head without meaning because how could anything have ever any meaning more important that Thranduil's cock fucking you a little further, a little deeper.

"So tight, s-so hot, clamping down on me like this sweet, fuck, pussy doesn't want me to leave"

"Mhm, I can see that," Bard hummed and his hands caressed your shaking thighs, before leaving his mark on your ass with a soft slap that had you wailing into Thranduil's shoulder.

It was too much and not enough at the same time.

You were going to lose your mind like this, fucked to near-unconsciousness.

"More, I–" your speech was slurred, brain scrambled into loose words hanging onto thin threads.

You tried to hold on to Thranduil but it was impossible with your sweat and the glitter covering him.

Luckily for you, Bard found the time to stop ever kindly toying with the pearl of your clit to lean forward.

"Put them inside his hair, Darlin'. He doesn't mind" There was a lopsided smirk on his face that you could barely see out of the corners of your eyes.

You still hadn't stopped looking at Thranduil.

The attempt to tentatively guide your hands to his head was prevailed by another particular hard thrust, and your fingers slid through blonde locks, grabbing onto them as you fell back down on Thranduil's cock.

You tugged on them much harsher than intended.

Thranduil's eyes blew wide.

You wanted to apologize when his lips quivered and his hips snapped into yours even faster.

Quickly you reached for him again, nails scraping his scalp as you readjusted, gripping more, much tighter.

"That's it, Darlin'.. that's my girl," Bard leaned back, and not shortly after his fingers were back on your clit, tapping intact of Thranduil's thrusts.

It was only a matter of seconds until the pleasure became too much.

Thranduil's hips fell into a stutter as your walls clenched around him; even for someone with his stamina the heat of you surrounding him, and your sweet moans drove him into a raging need to imprint the shape of his cock inside you.

"F-fuck.. Thran–" you whimpered, hands fisting his hair, trying to get a literal grip as reality started to shift around you.

Outside, close to the windows, there was a whistle as the first of many fireworks greet the New Year and just as Thranduil pushed you over the edge, your whole body shaking and tensing up as you screamed his name, the darkness of the sky exploded into an arrangement of thousands of colors.

The white fuzziness that enveloped your vision transformed into creeping darkness at the edges.

Your eyelids closed shut as you descended into blissful oblivion.

When you came back to yourself, it was to the murmur of deep voices mixed into the loud bangs of fireworks.

For a moment you had no idea where you were, enveloped in a haziness inside your mind, but the gentle nudge of something against your lips forced you to open your eyes.

There were two faces very close to yours, was the first realization.

Then, following up, you let out a giggle.

"Don't look so concerned, I'm fine," you greedily took a sip from the water bottle that the very flushed blonde held in his hands.

"You said it was possible you would cry, not bloody pass out on Thran's dick!" Bard wiped the drops you couldn't swallow away from the corner of your mouth with one hand and continued to rub your thighs with his others.

You hadn't noticed they were still shaking.

"Yeah, that never happened before," you shot a smirk up to Thranduil, "Never had a guy fuck me like this as well"

He snorted into the bottle of water, "Believe me, I never had someone lose their consciousness on me before as well. I came shortly after you and when I opened my eyes to find you completely out of it I nearly passed out on the spot as well"

"Would have been quite a shock for you," you said and let your head fall to the side to look at Bard, "both of us orgasm into fainting"

"Not funny, Darlin'," Bard warned, though he laughed as you stuck his tongue out at him.

Stretching your hands over your head and raking them into the air until your bones cracked, you sighed happily. Blissfulness was all you felt after cumming harder than you ever had.

For the first time, you could really enjoy the sight of both men in the nude, you hadn't had the chance to appreciate how fit Bard was while Thranduil had fucked you and you reached out to run your hands over his chest. Twirling some of the hair on there, traveling lower to scratch nails down his happy trail like a route description straight to his still-hard cock.

Stopping shortly before his pubic hair, you glanced up at him, a coy smile playing your lips. "You haven't cum yet." It was much a purr as it was an invitation, your legs falling open right when Bard's hand came to a still on your thighs.

He shook his head, chestnut hair swaying with the movement. "No, Darlin', no! You just passed out. I won't force myself on you. Thran can suck me off or I'll take care of it myself if you want to rest"

Your heart contracted in adoration for this man, and an embarrassing amount of slick gushed out of you.

"Bard," you said, voice wavering as you suppressed a whimper. Somehow this turned you on even more, "Bard, there is enough time to be this caring later but please–" Once again you were begging, and the man wasn't even inside of you yet, "please fuck me"

On the other side of you, Thranduil chuckled, "Insatiable, I knew it. Bard is right though, if you are not well, then he can fuck me"

Slowly but surely you were losing your patience.

As sweet as their concern was, the fact that these two gods were both sitting naked in front of you, one sweaty because he just knocked you out, and the other hard as steel and flushed, only aroused that much more.

Without saying anything else, you maneuvered yourself in the bed until you could rest your head on Thranduil's stretched legs and angled your legs in an invitation.

"Come on you stud. It's the new year after all"

The brunette scanned you with a piercing gaze, you could see him struggling with himself, but the twitch of his cock told you what he'd decided before he nodded.

"Thran, condom please"

You giggled again, excitement and the need to be catapulted to new heights spreading warmly in your stomach.

As Bard put the condom on, you wiggled around, your hand on the move to beat time, but Thranduil reached over you.

He caught your wrist before you reached your center, grasping it with his much larger hand and pulling your arm back with him enough that it forced your shoulders up, a "Tze, tze, tze" admonishing the behavior.

"Impatient brat, make up your mind!" he hissed and tugged some more until you whined, "Feel free to use those pathetic little fingers, knowing they will never fill you the way Bard could" Now that Thranduil knew you were on the same page, his voice dropped into that rebuking tone that left you whining and pouting.

He was so good, so fucking mean in the right amount you never knew you needed a man to act in bed.

"I just wanted–"

"I know baby," he cooed, and patted your cheek, "you just need your cunt to be filled, right? Just need to be stuffed full. Bard will do that for you, no need to worry your pretty head about it"

"That's right, Darlin'," Bard shuffled in between your legs, hooking them both over his thighs as he leaned over you. His cock landed on your abdomen, pressing against your pulsating clit, "Tell me what you want," he grabed himself, guiding it slowly toward where you leaked for him, completely drenched from the orgasms they had already given to you.

"I can go slow, or I can go fast"

You contemplated for a moment and lift the free hand to stroke over his handsome face. His beard tickled the inside of your palm, the chestnut waves silky as the sheets.

"Slow," you whispered, "I want you slow first"

"Alright," he gently nudged his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a kiss.

Although you were still sensitive, still pulsing and throbbing due to Thranduil (who caressed your face and your neck, having let to of your hand to arrange the pillows in his back for more comfort), you relished the stretch and sting of Bard as he guided his cock into you.

He was thicker than Thranduil, not by much but that inch made itself known, splitting you open heavenly so. You gasped into the kiss, giving up the fight of tongues to swallow back the drool that collected the further Bard pushed inside you.

It's just a little bit, one inch at a time, but you cried out all the same.

The thrum of excitement pulses, leaves you trembling and begging in incoherent moans and whimpers.

You could feel him throbbing inside you.

"Good girl," Thranduil's praise washed over you, chilled fingers tweaking one of your nipples as a reward for the exhausted smile you gifted him at that, "Has anyone ever told you that you make just the sweetest sounds? Give me one more?"

He twisted your other nipple; you moaned again.

"Fuck, Thran, you were so right," Bard grunted, his fingernails digging into where he held you by the waist, leaving crescent moon-shaped imprints that you hoped wouldn't fade for a while, "She's fuckin' tight; how are you still this tight?"

"For you," you fisted your hands into his hair again, hoping he enjoyed it just as much as his husband, "J-just for you, everything, ngh– for you"

With one last push, he sheated himself in you completely, filling you up just like Thranduil told you he would, stretching your walls thin.

You felt him everywhere, in every part of your body.

Every nerve, every tendon, every cell burns and was lit aflame, sizzling hot fire licking your skin and bursting when he dragged himself out, leaving barely the tip and pushed back in.

His cock nestled deep inside you, Bard stilled.

There was a silent vigilance in his mesmerizing green eyes. "Talk to me beautiful, is this alright?"

You nodded and pulled him down on his hair into another kiss. "Yes, god, yes"

That's all he needed to hear and while licking over your lips, entangling your tongue with his playfully, he set a slow rhythm. Nevertheless the tempo, he brushed that spot inside you with every stroke.

Pins and needles all over your skin, goosebumps wherever Thranduil's fingers wandered.

There were more fireworks, lightening up the bedroom filled with gasps and grunts, whispers of encouragement and begging. The sound of Bard's hips snapping into yours, the wet squelch of his cock driving itself inside of your pussy again and again.

"There we go," he murmured and positioned his arms on either side of you, using the balance it gives him to roll his hips instead of just thrusting. Mumbling between kisses, he talked against your lips: "Aren't you just the sweetest? Darlin', I couln' believe my eyes when I saw you in that club, shining far brighter than anyone else"

He swallowed your gasps with kisses, nipping at your lip then moved to your earlobe, "You are so perfect, letting us fuck you like this"

In one swift movement, he dragged Thranduil towards him, long blonde hair curling at the edges hanging into your vision in a starlight waterfall. Their kiss left you breathless and you would have felt left out if Thranduil didn't lean down further to you, kissing your lips upside down.

This time it was his fingers that found your slick, poor and abused clit. A couple of firm circles had your hips bucking up to meet Thranduil's fingers, crying out for both men in a mix of their names.

You whimpered as the next orgasm build up fucking fast, your breath catching in your throat.

"Bard," your hips moved on their own, trying to get him to fuck you faster, "Please– more, I need m-more,"

"Darlin'," Bards forehead pressed against yours, his grunts strained as if he was holding back himself but kept the same and steady pace you asked him for, "You sure?"

Grabbing his hair again, you weaved your fingers through it, tousling it haphazardly, achieving nothing but adding to its wild appearance.

When you met his gaze again, his eyes were fixed on you, it felt electric and charged, akin to lightning, causing you to momentarily forget to breathe.

"Yes"

He obeyed instantly, with the next thrust you screamed at the pure force of it. Bard wa spiraling the same way you were, becoming erratic as his teeth grazed over your collarbone, biting every mark they have left on you.

Raising your legs to keep him close, your ankles locked behind his back, heels digging into the tight muscles of his ass. The new angle allowed him to drive impossibly deep, reaching pleasure points inside you you didn't knew existed before him.

The pleasure was blinding, high electricity running through your veins and into every part of your body and soul. This was nothing you have ever experienced before, not with anyone and they made sure it would never feel like this with anyone ever.

Bard, feeling how your walls clenched around him, fluttering and pulsating, begging him to stay inside, sucked on your nipple, hard.

"I need you to come, fuck. Let me feel this pussy come, I'm right there with you," he rasped, voice like gravel, leaving you to scream for him, head knocking into Thranduil's legs, who dared to add to the crescendo of your pleasure and pressed down on your clit.

You found yourself gripping the bed covers, fingers twisting, in an attempt to anchor yourself, sobbing and shaking.

Instead, the coil inside you snapped.

Soaking Bard's cock choking and sobbing, tears spilling out of the corners of your eyes as every limp of you tensed up, he pushed you over the edge, his moans in your ear the most erotic thing.

You felt Bard following you, felt him spilling inside the condom, his cock twitching inside of you as he reached his peak moaning and burying himself to the deepest point, hips flushed close against yours, still rolling and shoving into you.

Moments of silence and heavy breathing followed. Of broken sobs, hushed murmurs of praise, even more affirmations.

Thranduil scootched closer to you, laying down next to you while Bard's weight on top of you was just what you needed. The heaviness of his much larger frame and Thranduil's long arms wrapped around you held back the cold that threatened to take a hold of you as the shivers of pleasure subsided.

"Gods," Bard exhaled, chest moving, pressing more into you. "That was something"

"Happy New Year" Thranduil rumbled.

Minutes passed, more fireworks exploded, celebrations of the New Year while you weren't even sure you even knew what time was anymore.

Bard tried to move, though your legs must have cramped for they felt disconnected to your body.

"Darlin'," he dropped another kiss to your neck, laughing low as your head lolled to the side.

"Mhm-mhm," you groaned, eyes still shut close, "Stay"

His lips moved to your ear, continuing to bathe you in soft kisses that leave you floating in that blissful headspace. "I know, I know–"

Thranduil's hands cupped your face, caressing your glowing cheeks and wiped away the loose tears that rolled over them. "Aftercare first, then cuddling," he whispered and cradled your head, massaging the spot in your neck that started to ache after Bard had folded you in half.

Despite knowing he was right, that you needed to use the bathroom, the warmth their bodies provided held you back.

You whined, arching your back into Bard's chest as he pried your legs away and slowly pulled himself out of you, stopping when your hips twitched at the overstimulation and only continued after a soothing kiss.

As soon as he left to stand up, tying up the used condom and going into the ensuite bathroom, Thranduil's steady hands on your back helped you sit up on the edge of the bed, where he wrapped the covers around your shoulders and gently tapped your nose, before scratching his nails over your head.

"You did very well, sweetheart," One finger tipped your chin up. "Thank you, you are a wonderful partner."

Thranduil, crouched to your level in front of you, still naked as the day he was born, simply picked you up. Legs folded over one arm, your head fell against his glittery chest that was covered in red streaks of where your nails had scratched him.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up"

The afterglow of the very much fantastic sex lulled all three of you in a comfort that blurred the barriers of you being a stranger in their home, laughter and giggles as the shower washed away sweat and glitter.

While there was a liveness to massaging soap into hair, hands rubbing away soreness and splashing water around until the mirror was all but fogged up and steam filled the entire bathroom, the exhaustion of the night caught up close after Thranduil dressed you in one of Bard's large sweaters.

Smelling like wood shavings, pine and toothpaste, hair still damp and eyes dropping close even though you tried to stay awake, Thranduil carried you to the bed.

The sheets were changed, encasing you in laundry detergent and brushing against your naked legs as you let yourself be placed on the pillows.

Outside, the world still celebrated and you did as well, in your own way.

There was a shuffle, a murmur of voices, then the bed dipped on either side as Bard climbed to your right side and Thranduil to your left, leaving not much room between all of you, legs entangling with each other, more giggling until everyone lied down comfortably.

Face tugged under Bard's chin, one arm of his reaching over your head so that Thranduil could nestle his face into it and the blonde wrapped around your back, you were surrounded by something you couldn't put into words.

"Maybe– maybe you can stay for breakfast and lunch," Bard's low words were murmured with a deep sigh, his other hand sliding down under his sweater, resting just below where your heart sung contenly.

"And dinner," Thranduil added and you heard him kiss Bard's hand.

"No talky-talky," you snuggled your face deeper into Bard, nose bumping into his neck, "But I would like that, very much"

Just as you fell asleep, held tightly by them both, you could hear them exchange quiet I love you's and you smiled, feeling their love seep deep into your bones.

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tinydefector · 3 months ago

Text

Soundwave Rut cycle

Word count: 1k

Warnings: smut, breeding, G/T, giant/tiny, gagging, valveplug.

Masterlist

Soundwave masterlist

Rut cycle masterlist

I know it's taken me a while to get this one posted, I kinda got writers block for this piece and was working on others but it's finally here wooo

Ask and request are open

___________

Soundwave had disappeared after the meeting with the autobots and Decepticons. No one had seen him and they weren't particularly interested in finding the communication officer and Spy, everyone was too busy trying to keep their possessors in order and not lose themselves to their rut with the scent that the humans emitted. But had anyone been paying attention they would have been able to narrow down his location to a small supply closet, in which he had whisked the sweet little human away too. They were in the meeting earlier delivering energon cubes to everyone despite how all the bots watched them with a want to claim them, Soundwave had been the one quick enough to catch them and hide them away from prying optics of both Autobot and Decepticons.

Muffled moans bounce off the walls of the supply closets, a human clings desperately to soundwave as the mech continues to thrust into them. His Rut had hit harder than anticipated, and he had gotten the delightful little human to himself without much issue.

Their smaller frame seemed to fit perfectly against Soundwave, as if they were made for each other.

Their fingers dig into Soundwave platting as their head is thrown back into his cassette carrier, a whimper is muffled by Soundwave's digits as he slowly thrust back into them, their eyes pinch closed As their legs shake. Soundwave's voice resonated with a hint of smugness and teasing as he leaned in against their ear. "Eager?" It almost sounded like a chuckle from him. Another whimper escaped the human.

With a calculated precision, Soundwave continued his movements, relishing in the way they clenched and keen, fingers desperately grabbing whatever part of his frame they could reach. "Muffled moans suit you well," he added, pressing his masked face into their shoulder, nuzzling against them as he delivers a much harsher thrust. They buck into him and sobs and whimpers fall from their lips, tears welling up in their eyes as Soundwave builds them up.

They let out a sobbed moan around his digits as soundwave hills inside them. They shutter and whine Soundwave's voice carried a tone of dark amusement as he observed their reaction. "Such sweet sounds you make," he purred in delight, The static dancing across their form added to the allure of their smaller and softer frame. He had never experienced something like them before and he intended to enjoy every moment, claim them, and perhaps keep them for himself, he wasn't opposed to humans, they had their uses and this one, well this one he would very much enjoy keeping around.

His free servo moves to trace their stomach feeling each movement as he ruts into them, Each thrust has his bulging their stomach. It's a delightful sight as he watches over their shoulder admiring each time he presses in and out, watching how well they take him. His mask retracts only for him to press a trail of kisses against their shoulder.

His voice drops into a seductive tone as he kisses up their throat until he reaches their ear. A hot vent of air hits their skin. "Hmmm, my little Carrier" he murmured, his words a blend of desire and dominance. Each thrust is more powerful than the last, he's careful with them, but still powerful enough to know how easily he could destroy them. his spike fills them so much to the point he could very much break them, but he doesn't want that, no need to fill them completely.

His desire was to breed them and swell them with his sparkling. As he nuzzled against their shoulders, his movements grew more urgent, a hunger to fill them full of his transfluid spurs him on. The sound of metal sliding against skin echoes alongside muffled moans in the dimly lit room. The raw, unbridled image of them with his sparkling is painted as a vivid picture in his processor.

Their hips move with his, clenching and shuttering as he purrs against them. "Such a perfect fit," he purred against them, each movement pushing them closer to the edge of ecstasy. As he spills inside them, flooding them with transfluid, Soundwave's control fractures as he desperately grinds into them, growling and snarling into their shoulder, tightening his hold on them to make sure they can't get away, a primal need to ensure they were completely full, bred to his liking.

They pant and whimper leaning back against Soundwave, he spreads their legs to admit his transfluid dripping from them, he continues to record and take photos wanting to capture everything and document it into his memory. As his transfluid dripped from them, down his thighs and on the floor of the supply closet. He lets out a deep hum of delight as he watches the way their chest heaves with each intake of oxygen. Delighted in how thoroughly sauteed they looked slumped against him.

praise slipped from his lips as he slowly pulled out, “Such a good little Carrier for me”. transfuild gushes from them leaving a large puddle under the two, whimpers leave his little human again as he moves one of his servos down to press his digits into them in hopes to make sure they don't lose anymore of his transfluid.

With his digits out of their mouth, they sob loudly as he slowly begins thrusting his digits in and out of them, bright pink transfluid covers their thighs and his servo. Each thrust has them arching into him, over-stimulated from how many times he had wound them up. “Soundwave!” They nearly cry only for him to turn their face and capture them into an eager kiss.

“Behave Carrier, loss of Fluid will result in another round” he rumbled. They clenched around his digits at the thought, he had already thoroughly ruined them and was threatening to do it again. They keen as he nips their shoulder. Soundwave runs his tongue against their skin taking in the taste of pheromones And hormones, delighted when they tasted like his, like they belonged to him. It would deter any other mech from trying to take them, be they Autobot or Decepticon.

_________

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manicpixiefelix · 11 months ago

Text

head, heart, hand. {Oliver/Reader/Felix}

It had been a long time since your world has revolved around anyone but Felix Catton. He was like that; undeniably, unassumingly magnetic. You'd watched countless fawning, fairweather friends drawn into his orbit, only to be cast out when he eventually got bored of them, but not you, never you. Maybe you were a toy in the beginning, the thing they'd all called you when they were feeling especially petty, but it became clear that Felix has wanted to keep you around.

You weren't a toy, you weren't family, you were a sharp and beautiful tool, too good, too useful to be put down. Your loyalty was rewarded with a life in his shape. Felix was like the sun, and you lived your life enjoying his warmth, and wanting to keep him shining.

And there's something about the way Oliver Quick thinks and talks that you almost recognise. The others call him a toy but the look in his eyes says he's capable of so much more than that. Oliver Quick is not one to be tossed aside either, and you'll do all you can to make Felix see that too.

The three of you; head, heart, hand.

Oliver thinks. Felix feels. You do.

Need to Know: established fwb!Felix/reader, there will be smut, Oliver is a weird obsessive perv and reader recognises and is pretty into it, obviously manipulation, AU with a happy poly ending

[ IN PROGRESS ]

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Part Five

Part Six

Part Seven

Part Eight

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Eleven

Part Twelve

Part Thirteen

Part Fourteen

Part Fifteen

Part Sixteen

Part Seventeen

Part Eighteen

Part Nineteen

Part Twenty

Part Twenty-One

Part Twenty-Two

Part Twenty-Three

Part Twenty-Four

Part Twenty-Five

Part Twenty-Six

Part Twenty-Seven

Part Twenty-Eight

Part Twenty-Nine

Part Thirty

Part Thirty-One

Part Thirty-Two

Part Thirty-Three

Part Thirty-Four

Part Thirty-Five

Part Thirty-Six

Part Thirty-Seven

Part Thirty-Eight

Coda

[ PLUS + ]

a long way down to the bottom of the river - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU (angst / one-shot)

never wanted anything from you (except everything you had) - SALTBURN CANON ENDING AU 2 (Oliver/Reader / fluff / one-shot)

seen and not heard - Felix & Reader's First Meeting (fluff / one-shot)

all this, and love too (will ruin us) - Reader Murders Oliver For Trying To Kill Felix (Felix/Reader / angst / one-shot)

he wanted to be in love (but you got in the way) // epilogue - Reader Dies At The Maze Instead Of Felix (Felix/Oliver / heavy angst / two-shot)

alone with you - Felix Won't Believe The Reader's Dead (Felix/Reader / heavy angst / one-shot)

and other things that happened by the red staircase - Felix Fingers His Cousin (humour / one-shot)

at the other end of the leash - Felix Beats The Shit Out Of Someone For Trying To Assault The Reader (hurt/comfort / one-shot)

they stare at me (and i stare at you) - CEO!Reader AU With Enemies-To-Lovers (Felix/Reader / miniseries)

love the hand that feeds you - puppy play smut (Felix/Reader/Oliver / post head, heart, hand canon / one-shot)

Ask Box Vignettes;

Reader's Family History of Wealth

Felix/Reader - Joking About The Future

Felix/Reader - Sick Day

Felix/Reader/Oliver - Attending Colin & Araminta's Wedding (Crazy Rich Asians Crossover)

AU Tags;

Vampire AU

Fae AU (ft. Demifae!Oliver)

Crazy Rich Asians Crossover

Oliver & Reader Siblings AU

CEO!Reader AU

Felix Catton's Adventures in Employment

THE TAGLIST IS ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Unrelated Fics & Headcanons;

baby, put your back into it - {Farleigh/Reader/Oliver} - (pwp / two-shot)

Euphoria AU - (12 Years Post Saltburn Canon / dot point headcanons)

you're not the main character - {One-Sided India/Reader} - (drabble)

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Other Tags;

#manic-writer; all fics

#it-shouts-back; all asks

#manicpixieart; my posts

#saltburn #felix catton x reader #oliver quick x reader #felix catton imagine #oliver quick imagine #felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn imagine #saltburn x reader #felix catton x y/n #oliver quick x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x you #felix catton x you x oliver quick #manicpixieart #manic writer

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bunnys-kisses · 4 months ago

Note

Hey Bunny! I'd love scones with hard lemonade, please pretty please. Let Verstappen serve the sweets🥹

Also, your bakery list is literally so creative

the bakery menu

if you wanna request your own order, feel free! the bakery is still open! as for this lovely request, i am very happy with what you picked! not many picked scones so i am very interested. i also got your send message and thank you so much for thinking i'm such a good smut writer!!! order up! i also added a lil something special to this as well <3

scones ("but what if they see us!") + hard lemonade (possessive behaviour) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, possessive behaviour, semi-public sex, wolff!reader, daddy issues, degrading language, enemies(???), unprotected sex, sass/bickering

you could always feel max's gaze on your back as you spoke to the mechanics for mercedes. you ignored him however, but the gaze still lingered. you weren't giving him the time of day.

if anything you were going to push that dutch driver to the absolute limit. as you placed a hand on the shoulder of one of the mechanics and gave him a bright smile.

"thank you so much for everything today, you and the team did such a great job!" you could tell that the mechanic in front of you was getting a little heated from the praise. you however kept your voice loud enough for max to hear.

you then pulled away and headed back towards where your father was before the race started. you looked right through max as you walked back. you tried not to stop, you forced yourself to keep moving.

these little games you must play.

you had known max for a while. everyone knew max. you at first didn't pay him much attention, he was driving for another team. not the one you were employed at, the team your father was the head principal of.

"you have to be careful, bärchen." you father warned, "this league is all pretty boys now. you need to make sure you have your head on right. they're all heart breakers."

"like you weren't, papa?" you asked.

he replied, "i know i was. that is why i know what they will do you. stay away and focus on work."

but maybe it was the daddy issues, maybe it was how sweet he was. he didn't treat you like glass, his love was at time obsessive. he was in a way possessive of you. but within six months of being on the job, you were in bed with max verstappen.

a lot of the time it was steamy sex, with the dutchman being the type of lover that made the blush got up to your ears (as if your ankles weren't already there as he fucked you). other times it was him with his arm slung around your waist. talking about nothing, listening to him yap as you felt close to him.

almost like lovers.

you were in monaco for the weekend. you had told your father that after the time of the track you were going to stay at a friend's house, but you promised to be at the race right on time.

the night before practice you and max got into a bit of a fight. you were jealous, there were no strings attached to this agreement. so he was free to see whomever he wanted. so when you saw him on raya, you both chewed each other out.

"fuckin' manwhore."

"oh really? like i didn't have to hear all about that fuckin' engineer for three months. you know, it's hot to talk about other men while someone is fucking you, right? brat."

"slut."

so now like the vindictive bitch you were it was your goal for the day to flirt with as many assistants, mechanics, drivers, anyone who you could. and you made sure to do it in max's line of sight.

before you could reach the ferrari paddock to see what trouble you could get into. you were grabbed by someone and pulled towards them. you were met with max and his lips were on yours.

he had enough. he was done playing this stupid little game with you.

"max."

"shut it."

you two were making out behind a wall in the paddock. hopefully out of prying eyes. his hands gripped your ass while you clutched onto the front his driver's suit.

"but what if they see us!"

"tonight, come over. you still remember the code to get in?" he continued to grab at your ass, massaging the flesh between his large hands.

"i think it's tattooed on my brain. so yes, i can get in."

he chuckled, "good girl, i knew you weren't the stupid whore i thought you were. keep using that brain of yours and maybe i won't have to fuck some sense into you." then smiled at you.

you hated that degrading language made you core sopping wet it was almost uncomfortable. it didn't help that his accent was a thrum in your brain that made all proper thoughts irrelevant.

he knew this too, just like he knew everything else about you.

his place was nice. on the outside it reeked of expensive, but the inside reeked of man in his twenties. at least he kept the framed picture you gave him of his cats. something to "add character" to the place.

but there was little time to say hello to the animals, because when you leaned down to pet one of them, max's strong arms came around you.

"don't think you're getting away with today." he said as he watched you stand back straight and he tightened his arms around you. his lips were on your neck while he held you.

"you're a possessive fuck."

"and you're not? i'm talking to a model and you're going to rip her head off. someone likes me."

you dug your nails into his arms and said, "yeah, i don't want herpes at twenty-six."

he replied, voice close to your ear, "oh i bet that's why. not because you're a stupid jealous girl who wants the number one driver all to herself. that this was never casual for you, you're just a coward. just like your father."

you huffed and turned in his arms. you grabbed him by the face and said, "i guess you know a thing or two about coward fathers. how's jos doing these days?"

he scowled at you before he grabbed you by the shirt and kissed you roughly, "fucking bitch."

"oh, lighten up, verstappen."

he made a face before you two went to the bedroom and started to strip one another. max wanted it all off now, he was impatient that way. he wanted to see your naked body before he demolished you.

he got on the edge of the bed and leaned back on his hands. he looked at you with a haziness to his blue eyes, his cock throbbed at the sight of you. also naked and ready for him.

"you're a dog, verstappen."

"and you're the rabbit i'm going to sink my teeth into." he said with a smile as he watched you get closer and straddle his waist. you got onto his cock with ease, you had done it so many times. you were certain that an imprint of his cock size was inside of you.

you held onto his shoulders and shuddered, "god should've given you a small cock."

he chuckled, "and you'd still be like this. a shivering little horny mess."

your knees rested on either side of him onto the bed, you held onto him as an anchor to not fall off the bed. you started your pace off strong, you held onto him as you rode him.

you felt the rhythm of your thrusts in the back of your head to keep yourself at a steady pace. you looked at max while his gaze was on your breasts.

"you're a dog." you repeated.

he replied, "well, maybe if you weren't trying to sleep with the whole paddock then maybe i wouldn't have to find ways to make sure you don't. actually be a decent woman."

"oh, i thought we were casual."

he took you by the hips tightly and said, "you really are a fucking idiot. it's never been casual."

you laughed before you pulled him in for another kiss. your pace was erratic and hard. you rose and dropped your hips onto his cock which caused both of you pitifully moan and gasp.

the kisses were frantic, hot all over. his fingers dug into your hips as he tried to move you in a certain way. but you weren't changing the pace for him.

"jesus christ." you muttered as you moved up and down.

"see, you can be a good girl for me. i see you more as a wife and less of a manager. i think it's about time to have the next generation of verstappen." he kissed your neck and collarbones, "have my kid."

"in your dreams, verstappen." you rolled your hips, "i need a real driver, not some kid living out daddy's dreams."

his grip on you tightened and the truth strength came out. soon you were being moved by max up and down his cock. a noise exited your throat that was painfully erotic.

"see, still just a stupid little girl. still trying to get daddy's approval. that's why you took the job. but, i still don't know why you're having sex with me. he'd die if he found out."

you cupped max's face and silenced him with a kiss. you'd have three verstappen brats before you admitted to max that you had an affection for him. you could be married for five years and you'd still not say you loved him.

you didn't want to give him that ego.

orgasm came quick over you. your thighs quivered from the rush in your body. fuck, you felt hot all over. max even took a good bite into your shoulder to "remind" you.

"fucking hell, max." you whined.

he chuckled, "now be good and cum."

you came first, you clutched onto him. you felt a pain in your head from the intense pleasure. you rode him slower and he came inside you quickly after.

you prayed tomorrow you'd remember to buy plan b.

you slowed down after you both came and panted heavily. your nails were still in your shoulders. you core throbbed from the intense orgasm as you exhaled shakily. you were still straddling his waist at the end of the bed.

he pulled out of you and pulled you down onto bed with you. his arms wrapped around you. he asked, "are you done?"

"done what?"

he kissed at your sweaty neck, "being a bitch. are you ready to be nice again?" his voice was honey in your brain. making it tacky and gooey.

"for now." you replied.

he made a face before he kissed you, "i guess that'll have to do. now you lie there. i'm not done with you."

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yesimwriting · 2 months ago

Text

thinking about bsf!logan, who thinks the title is ridiculous. best friends are for little kids trying to justify who they invite to their birthday parties, not for anyone like him. but there's something about the way you say it, voice measured as your attention shifts between him and the nail of your thumb as you picks at your nail beds.

there's a shyness to the silence that follows that does't suit you. it means something to you, he realizes, and that--that might mean something to him.

you, who seems to have the world at your fingertips because no one ever manages to say no to you. you, who is never missing from movie nights or impromptu training sessions or anything because you're the first person invited. you, who everyone is so fond of sometimes logan can feel their communal warmth burning him out of your life, like some beast that's only vulnerability is light.

it's a reality he's been aware of from the very beginning. it's part of the reason he promised himself that he'd never take anything you didn't offer him willingly. and here you are, giving him something.

so he accepts it with a teasing, "i'm the best you could do?" that's a lot gruffer than it needs to be. you beam regardless, sitting up a little straighter as you tuck your knuckles beneath your chin.

you mumble something about having limited options, the answer a little flatter than you usually are. it is late, and you are the type to push against your own tiredness to make sure someone's awake to greet your friends when they get back from a mission you weren't needed for.

with a sigh, he looks back to his nearly empty beer bottle. "isn't it late for you to be up?"

you're immediately protesting, swearing that you're fine and that you just want to talk to him. the lack of tact in your reaction only proves his point further, but instead of pushing it, he downs the last of his beer. your eyes narrow. the openness of your skepticism is another indicator of the drowsiness you're ignoring.

logan sighs, pushing himself to stand so that he doesn't have to look at you as he says this next part, "c'mon." it's flat in its stiffness, maybe even a little awkward. he keeps his gaze focused on what's directly in front of him. "if you want to be 12, you should have a sleepover."

there's a beat of silence, of hesitation, and then you're moving to stand. you remain there for a second, silent and still. regret burrows itself somewhere between his lungs and ribcage.

then, you scoff, the sound light and familiar. "having a best friend isn't that 12-year-old."

a part of him is glad that his back is still to you. "i know, bub, you're completely grown up."

you let out a breath that might be a laugh, or a yawn, or some odd combination of both, as you step forward. "don't make fun of me when i'm too tired to defend myself."

once you're by his side, he begins to walk away from the kitchen table. "i thought you were fine."

you turn your head enough to glare at him. "don't start."

without thinking, he reaches forward, placing a hand on your shoulder as a reminder that he can. "i'd never."

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a/n take this concept/drabble hybrid while i work through both writer's block and an overwhelming amount of homework <3 also if u liked this pls feel free to send me asks with thoughts for this concept, i love secretly-pining-best-friend trope :)

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #xmen x reader #x men x reader #mcu x reader #marvel x reader

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ahqkas · 5 months ago

Text

♯ BACK TO THE OLD HOUSE ; mattheo riddle

❛ when you cycled by

here began all my dreams ❜

PAIRING! mattheo riddle x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS! the countless nights he spends fighting over any sized inconveniences were getting to him. he didn’t even think about visiting the professional medic to patch his wounds, not when he had you (based on this req.!!)

WORD COUNT! 2.9k

WARNINGS AND TAGS! fighting, blood, angst + fluff, kissing, violence, rage filled + soft mattheo, slytherin reader, friends to lovers, lovesick idiots

NOTES! my man my man my man

HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST!

TO MATTHEO RIDDLE, FIGHTING FELT LIKE A SECOND HOME. He could insert all of his rage and anger into the punches and kicks because it was required to do so. You wouldn't throw a good punch if you didn't put your emotions into the action and so that's exactly what he did. Fought with his emotions.

The courtyard was a peaceful place for the students of Hogwarts to relax for once, bringing a sense of peacefulness with its stone pathways and patches of greenery. The yard was often filled with laughter and conversations for everyone to hear. But on some days, you could hear more than the good nature of people. Curse words and spells casted at another, yells and shouts of anger. The same goes for violent actions. The sickening snaps of bones and emotional sounds from the audience that gathered around the ongoing fight was heard for miles away.

The same goes for today.

The joyful laughter quickly turned into terrifying shouts when a nearby fight broke out among the students in green robes. Slytherins fought the most. Mattheo Riddle fought the most.

A small group of onlookers had gathered around him and another boy, his robes the same green color to match Mattheo's. Their hushed whispers and excited yells were echoing through the halls, bringing even more attention to the crowd. Just exactly what they needed.

The other boy, Aaron Banks, stood with an arrogant smirk plastered on his face, his arms crossed as he stood chest to chest with Mattheo. A dangerous combination, considering that Mattheo's bad temper could handle only this much and Aaron's instincts for his own life weren't working like they should. This situation screamed trouble.

"You really think you're something special, don't you, Riddle?" Aaron sneered, his voice dripping with venom. "Just because of your name, you think you can walk around like you own the place."

Mattheo's eyes narrowed into a glare. If one looked deeply into his eyes, they would be able to see the dark storm brewing in their depths. "You don't know what you're talking about, Banks. Why don't you keep your mouth shut before you say something you'll regret?"

A mocking laugh escaped the other boy's throat, the sound harsh. "Oh, I think everyone knows exactly what I'm talking about. A Riddle will always be a Riddle. Trying to pretend you're better than the rest of us won't change that."

The crowd murmured among themselves, little jabs and comments about the two boys escaping from their lips. Bets were already in the making, money being thrown around like it meant nothing.

"Last warning, Banks. Walk away now," his jaw tightened, a muscle tickling in his cheek. He looked tense and if you looked close enough, you'd see his nails digging into the heel of his palm, trying to control his temper. He had promised to someone to do so.

"Or what? You'll run crying to daddy? Oh wait, you can't, can you?"

That was it. In an instant, all of the restraints Mattheo was trying to gain snapped away and he launched himself at Aaron Banks, who had a death wish in his eyes.

Mattheo's fist connected with Aaron's jaw in a bone-crushing punch. The audience could hear the sickening snap of a breaking bone and let out an empathic 'Oooh'. The boy's fate had already been written and no one would dare to stop the writer from his art work. They'd have a death wish as well. Aaron staggered back, more shocked than hurt at first, before he quickly recovered and his fists were flying toward another face.

The courtyard erupted into chaos of excitement and shouts of frustration as the two boys collided in a flurry of punches and shoves. Mattheo landed another hit to the boy's ribs, making him grunt in pain, which Aaron rewarded him with a swift uppercut that snapped Mattheo back.

Blood trickled from Mattheo's split lip, but he barely seemed to notice. With a snarl, he drove his shoulder to Aaron's chest, knocking them both to the ground. The two of them hit the floor hard and rolled across the cobblestones and grass.

"Fight! Fight!" some of the onlookers chanted, probably the ones who placed their money into a bet, their voices holding an edge of excitement as they watched the fight like muggleborns watched soccer matches on TV. Others tried calling for help, but their calls got lost in waves of noise.

Aaron managed to get on top, his fists raining down on Mattheo. A brutal punch on his cheek sent blood spraying on both his face and the ground beneath them, painting the green grass scarlet. With a burst of strength, Mattheo twisted around and reversed their positions, pinning Aaron beneath him. The Slytherin boy started landing a series of blows, each one hitting the blond harder and harder, with such a force it almost made his face look unrecognizable.

Aaron's nose finally cracked from the pressure Mattheo was punching with and blood gushed around his fingers as he tried to block the violence and shield his face. It didn't work.

"Had enough?"

"Stop! Both of you, stop this instant!" a voice boomed across the courtyard and the audience of students departed to make a way for the owner to walk through.

Professor McGonagall strode into the circle with her wand raised and eyes blazing with authority. The witch flickered her wand, and the boys were magically separated, levitating a few feet apart and struggling against the invisible force that held them. Mattheo was still seeping with rage, his eyes showing exactly what he wanted to do to the other boy.

"This is disgraceful!" her voice trembled with fury. "Both of you, to my office, now!"

Mattheo could see the few students that placed a bet on his behalf collecting galleons with a satisfied expressions on their faces.

The silence in Professor McGonagall's office was thick and oppressive, broken only by the ticking of an ancient clock on the wall. The room, usually a place quiet authority, now felt dangerous, like the eye of a storm. Mattheo Riddle and Aaron Banks stood before her desk, their faces bruised and swollen, their uniforms disheveled and splattered with blood.

Minerva McGonagall stood behind her desk, her expression a mask of controlled fury. Her eyes, sharp and unforgiving, darted between the two boys, assessing the damage and the simmering rage that still radiated from them.

"What, precisely, did you hope to achieve with this barbaric display?" McGonagall's voice was icy, each word clipped with disapproval. "Explain yourselves."

Aaron shifted uncomfortably, wiping at the blood still trickling from his nose before he spoke up first. "He started it, Professor," he muttered like a child, casting a resentful glance at Mattheo. "He couldn't handle a bit of teasing."

"A bit of teasing?" McGonagall's voice rose, incredulous. "You think this is acceptable behavior in response to teasing? Violence is never the answer, Mr. Banks. And you, Mr. Riddle, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Mattheo's jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on a point just above McGonagall's head. He refused to look at Aaron. "He insulted my family," he said quietly, but with a hard edge to his voice. "He went too far."

McGonagall's eyes softened, just a fraction, but her voice remained stern. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even herself, but the woman had a soft spot for the boy. "And you thought physical violence was the appropriate response? You are both old enough to know better. This kind of behavior is not tolerated at Hogwarts. We are a respected school, and such actions undermine everything we stand for."

She paused, letting her words sink in. The boys remained silent, their hostility now mingled with the sting of reprimand.

"What makes this even more disgraceful is that you're both members of Slytherin. Slytherin house values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness. This situation not only reflects poorly on you but also on your house. You should be allies, supporting each other in your ambitions, not tearing each other down."

"You will both serve detention for the next month," McGonagall continued, her tone brooking no argument. "Every evening after classes, you will report to Mr. Filch. And you will write a letter of apology to each other. Not just a few lines, but a sincere apology. This kind of conduct must be addressed not just with punishment, but with understanding and reconciliation."

Aaron's face twisted in disgust, but he nodded. Mattheo, though still simmering with anger, gave a curt nod as well.

"Furthermore," McGonagall added, her eyes narrowing, "you will each receive fifty points deducted from your respective house. I hope this serves as a reminder of the consequences of your actions."

The silence that followed was heavy, both boys digesting the severity of their punishment. McGonagall's gaze softened slightly as she looked at them. "I understand that emotions can run high, especially with matters as personal as family. But you must learn to control yourselves, to find better ways to resolve conflicts. Violence only begets more violence."

The witch walked around her desk, standing closer to them. "You are both capable of better than this. I expect to see you prove that in the coming weeks."

With a final, stern look, she dismissed them. "You may go. Reflect on your actions and do better. Dismissed."

Mattheo and Aaron walked out of her office, the tension between them still palpable but now mingled with a grudging acknowledgment of the consequences they faced. The door closed behind them with a soft thud, leaving McGonagall in the quiet of her office, the ticking of the clock the only sound as she sighed, returning to her desk with the hope that the punishment would lead to some measure of understanding between the two boys.

Ignoring the sting of his split lip and the throbbing on his bruised jawline, Mattheo headed down the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the destination clear in his mind. The logical choice would have been the infirmary, where Madam Pomfrey would undoubtedly patch him up with expert care, even if it meant hearing the scolding she'd have prepared. But Mattheo wanted something different - someone different. He needed to see you.

Mattheo wouldn't call himself desperate but he wasn't far from being just that if it involved you.

The Slytherin common room was quieter than usual, the murmur of hushed conversations about today's fight between their two housemates barely audible over the crackling fire. Mattheo slipped past the few students lounging on the green leather couches, their eyes following him with curiosity and whispers trailing after his steps. He ignored them like always, his focus solely on reaching your dormitory.

Reaching the door to the girls' dormitory, he hesitated for a moment, then knocked softly. His bloody knuckles rapped on the wood of the door, each tap sounding more quiet. What was the worst that could happen? The door creaked open to reveal you, your eyes widening as you took in his battered appearance.

"Mattheo, what happened to you?" you whispered urgently, taking in the bruises and cuts marring his face.

"I got into a bit of a disagreement," he said, downplaying the severity of the fight because he knows how much you worry about him. Which he doesn't deserve, he thinks silently.

Your eyes narrowed, a mix of concern and frustration flashing across your face at his behavior. Mattheo Riddle stood at the entrance of your dorm, bloodied and visibly in pain. "You should be in the infirmary," you exclaimed, the tone of your voice firm but gentle.

The dark haired Slytherin shook his head. "I'd rather you patched me up," he admitted, his tone softening. "Please."

Sighing, you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter. "Alright, come in," you immediately went to help him in, taking most of his weight with the way you slung his arm around your shoulders, closing the door quietly behind him. Your dormitory was cozy, the dim light from a few enchanted candles casting a warm glow over the room.

"Sit," you ordered, pointing to a bed that probably belonged to you. The giveaway was the single snake plush he gave you for Christmas in the third year. Mattheo obeyed with a pleasant feeling spreading across his chest, sinking into the bed with a groan as the adrenaline from the fight wore off, leaving him acutely aware of the pain coursing through his body like a lightning.

You rummaged through a small trunk at the foot of your bed, pulling out a vial of healing potion and some clean cloths. Dipping a cloth in the potion and gently dabbing at the cut on his lip, your touch was both tender and precise as your palm met the side of his face that wasn't hurt that badly.

"You're an idiot, you know that?" you muttered quietly, not meeting his eyes.

"I've been told," he replied with a smirk, though it quickly faded into a wince. "But Banks had it coming."

"Even so, you need to control your temper," your fingers working deftly to clean the blood from his face. "You're better than this."

Mattheo's lips stretched into a grin despite the pain, causing you to wince at the new blood that started to ooze out of a cut on his bottom lip. Without another word, you took his jaw into your hand and angled his face so you could examine and attend to his injuries better. Your thumb brushed against the forming bruise in a comforting manner as your eyes locked. Your irises, a shade of [colour], met the brown of his ones. The dim lighting of the lamp cast a glow on your face and Mattheo could see the highlighted concern etched into your brows.

You have never looked so beautiful in his eyes. He felt a warmth spread through him, the sight of you dulled the pain more effectively than any potion could.

"There," you said finally, stepping back to examine your work. "That should hold you until you can see Pomfrey."

His hand, almost of its own accord, moved to the small of your back to keep you close to him. The warmth of your skin under his fingertips was electrifying, the soft fabric of your shirt having ridden up slightly. Mattheo caressed the bare skin there, his touch both gentle and hesitant, as if afraid to break the spell between you. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, your eyes widening just a fraction, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you leaned into his touch, your own hands resting lightly on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart.

He could be tough and rough around the edges, but he found himself melting in your presence.

The proximity was intoxicating. Mattheo could see the faint freckles across your nose, the way your eyelashes cast delicate shadows on your cheeks. He could feel your warmth seeping into him, a contrast to the cold reality of the world that brewed outside this moment. The world was dark out there, but he felt safe in your arms.

"[Name]," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper, laced with a vulnerability he rarely showed, even in your presence. Your name felt like a plea, a confession, and a promise all at once.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering down to his lips for just a moment before meeting his eyes again. The tension between you was palpable, a taut string that could snap at any moment. His thumb traced small circles on your back, the simple motion sending shivers down your spine as he gazed up at you with those big brown eyes of his, his breath intertwining with yours. Mere inches kept you apart and he looked at you as if you've hung the moon on the dark sky and brought the stars with your heavenly beauty.

"Mattheo," you whispered back, voice trembling slightly. The sound of his name on your lips sent a jolt of desire through him, making it even harder to think clearly. Although, he couldn't think straight already.

Your breaths mingled in the small space that separated you, and Mattheo felt a pull, an almost irresistible urge to close the distance, to bridge the gap that had always seemed so close yet so far away. And so he did.

His hands, resting on the small of your back, pressed into you, urging you even nearer until you stood flushed between his legs.

Your hands, previously light on his chest, tightened their grip as you felt the heat radiating from his body. Your fingers trailed up to his face, where you angled his head slightly, silently urging him to meet your lips. Mattheo obliged, his heart pounding in both nervousness and excitement. Lord knows how long he wanted to do this.

With a surge of courage, Mattheo closed the remaining distance, capturing your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss. It was like a spark igniting between you, a rush of emotions and longing finally being released. The kiss deepened, fueled by years of unspoken feelings and the intensity of the moment.

Mattheo's hands, now fully embracing you, held you close as if afraid you might slip away once he let go. You responded in kind, fingers tangling in his dark curl, anchoring him to you as he touched you nothing but love and passion.

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed, the world around you fading into insignificance. In that moment, there was only Mattheo and you, nothing mattered anymore. Not any stupid fight. Not any family problems. Just you two.

For in each other's arms, you had found love, love that would carry you through the darkest of times and cherish the brightest of eternity.

444 notes · View notes