#im Over it .mostly. now but all it did was . make me hate him | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vatelixx · 19 days ago

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You are the knife (I turn inside myself),

S2!Post-addiction!Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader

SMUT!! (and copious amounts of angst, and like a small amount of fluff to just… balance it out), Workplace rivals, aka, enemies to lovers (who are still enemies and would rather die than tell each other they’re in love).

──── autistic spencer (as per usual), evil evil reader (im being dramatic, kinda), they hate each other so much that they have to find a new way to crawl into each others skin.

Warnings: sub spencer, brat!spencer (a man gets glasses and suddenly thinks he can be defiant) brat!tamer!reader, HUGE corruption kink (someone keeps putting that in there???? it’s not me, i swear), first time for Spencer (i love a virginal nerd), restraints (someone has to pin him down), crying— like lots of crying, degradation (and a little praise because they work hand in hand), Spencer eats reader out like rent is due, reader says thankyou by destroying him, they argue mid-sex. They actually just argue constantly.

— warning: mentions of past drug addiction.

w.c: 9k (mostly smut, holy shit how is it 9k??? their arguments hiked up my word count im positive)

a/n: i know tumblr hates to see me coming with my Spencer Reid one shots. I wrote this at 3am when I was supposed to be studying for my latin exam, it’s okay. Uni will understand I had greater things to do. I promise i’ll get around to my requests this week, i just got possessed by the holy ghost and wrote this.

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Something, something, mindless torture. Spencer holds his brain, his intellect, in high regard. Proverbial accomplishments, Stanford Binet approved genius, he’s an outlier to most. And yet, the moment you start speaking, he has no thoughts beyond the domineering urge to throw himself off a cliff.

You’re late today. Chicago, you’ve both been sentenced, discarded to create a profile from the minimal information present. Forced proximity, the team have been trying to stifle this animosity shared between you for over a year now. It doesn’t work.

Here’s the thing, each member of the BAU has their own specialised feat: Penelope could be a cybercriminal, if she so wished, a tech-genius that has no qualms in tearing down firewalls. Morgan, adroit, an expert on the field, stereotypically strong, all running lines of muscle. Who wouldn’t want to be princess-carried away from danger by him? He’s also remarkably good at kicking down doors. Gideon has incalculable years of experience, a mentor.

The list stretches on.

But you and Spencer can’t both be the brains of the team. It’s unbalanced, skewed. A clash of intellect. Scales tipped in one direction, why does he always come up short? Why can’t he just—

Why, repeats as you push through the bureau, blanking the predictable, formulaic stares of various officers, trained officials, the usual mess. Why— why profiling? Why did you voluntarily choose to suffer your way through ceaseless cases of sanguinary?There has to be an element of masochism to your career; no one with a sane mind voluntarily decides to walk into an onslaught of serial killers and death.

The early mornings are always the worst; stumbling out of bed, deriving no sleep from the night, tangled sheets and restless limbs. “Don’t,” you push, padding into the office, met with Spencer’s hardened gaze. “Late night.”

“We haven’t been here for 48 hours yet, 36 and 22 minutes to be precise, and you’ve already—“

“Get your mind out of the gutter, boy genius. Late night as in I stared at the casefiles until my mind went numb.”

“Did you take a break?” he asks, and you both know it’s not born from care. “Maybe a self-reflection period to realise that torturing yourself isn’t the most effective form of work. Your reactive skills will be delayed now, let’s hope we don’t find the unsub today. In fact, maybe I should warn Hotch—“

“Have I ever warned Hotch about your breakdowns?” that shuts him up. It also makes him spiral, because you can’t know, it’s not statistically possible that you’d be aware of Hankel’s lasting impact on his body, dilaudid, hydromorphine, and not tell someone. He assumes you’d be desperate to eliminate him from the team, to claim your win.

“Right, um— the case,” he shifts in his seat. Professionalism, tolerance, it’s all a little too much work when it comes to the subject of you.

“The case.” you agree.

You’re attuned to each other, a psychological curse he’s forced to stomach. Offices and crime scenes, analysing, competing, hellbent on one upping the other. “Look at these markings—“ his hands rifle through the files that adorn the table, searching searching until they produce an autopsy report.

The markings on the body are intricate, latin symbols prominent against the victims pale skin. You lean further forward, following the path of his index finger as it traces the outline. Perhaps there’s an element of telepathy to your dynamic; you don’t need to state the obvious, too aware that his brain has already processed the information, that he’s moved onto the nuances now.

Human sacrifice, it’s not the first time you’ve caught yourselves in the midst of cult worship and indoctrination. But it’s certainly the first time of its kind.

“Traces of wine in her bloodstream. Found in a forest. Sounds like a bacchanal.” you state, shifting to pull yourself up on the desk.

Spencer looks. At your long, slender legs extending out from a pencil skirt. Effortless, natural, situating yourself on the oakwood, hair half covering your face, with loose strands pooling over your eyes to obstruct your sight.

It’s a strange analogy, the two of you; Spencer with his tired eyes, haphazard clothes and messy desk, and you, just as dishevelled in the morning light.

Metaphorically and literally you’re higher than him right now. He fixes his askew glasses. Clears his throat. “Regina Horthorne,” the victim, “Straight A student. Honour role. What are the chances she willing went to said… bacchanal?”

“Hm. I don’t know, maybe she’s like Laura Palmer. Double life. 4.0 cheerleader by day, crazed bacchante by night.” you retort.

Shamelessly, you take a moment to observe him, just as he did you. Shirt sleeves bunched up at his elbows, hair tousled, large hazel eyes, interminably darting across your face. You wonder for a moment if he’s analysed you the way you’ve analysed him. It’s a futile question, of course he has.

Anything to gain the upper hand.

You continue, “Maybe they’re sacrificing virgins. You could go undercover as a potential victim. Certainly fit the part.”

“I’m already too old to be counted as an appropriate victim. There’s a high probability ‘they’, the dominant unsub, wouldn’t even look at me, and—“ he pauses, pretty face marred by creased features, brows furrowed, a slight pout to his lips.

“There’s a homicidal cult preforming human sacrifice, and you’re wasting time by insulting me?” Spencer is….. a perpetual scholar, a social disaster, wearing his intellect like an ill-concealed secret, outcasted for the weight of his own brilliance. “The BAU clearly made a well-informed decision when they hired you.”

“Oh, you wound me boy genius.” you respond, pressing your hand against your heart.

Endless cases. The impenetrable presence of fall. It feels like you shift through cycles, bleary-eyed and tainted from the job, damaged goods— do you struggle to sleep like I do?

You lean forward, hands, adorned with cluttered rings, braced against the table, bodies closer now. There’s a burn, something fervent that lingers between you, rivalry, opposition. Some days you feel as hedonistic as the unsubs you track and chase.

Continuing, you let out a sharp laugh. “Are you still bitter because I realised it was a bacchanal before you? Don’t worry, i’ll let you take the credit for it. I’m sure Gideon will be so impressed.”

Gideon sees everything in him, and nothing in you. Predictable.

The distance between you has become almost null. It’s intimate, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. “I’m not bitter. And I don’t care about the credit.” A lie. “Unlike you, I don’t need to prove my worth to him.”

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Spilt blood. Your hands are calloused from holding a gun. From firing a bullet straight through skull. The case closes, locked behind that inviolable wall, the one that’s installed into your mind the moment you’re employed, the moment you sign your fate over to the BAU. You’re not sure why anyone stays, overworked and undervalued, there’s no heroes in real life. Maybe it’s the sense of family, or maybe it’s just what everyone subconsciously fell into.

You can’t understand why you’re so angry at Spencer, why it extends to the next case, South Dakota— deaths of locals, but these days, all of the illogical, petty reasons just blur together. Create this tangled mess of overcompensation. ’I assumed you two would get along,’ Prentiss had stated— but what does she know? She’s been an active member of the BAU for a whole 10 minutes.

The hostility has mounted to new levels now.

It’s hard work, long hours, no gratitude and a pay cheque that can’t even begin to cover the trauma that comes with the job. The BAU is like self-sabotage: a long list of reasons to leave, and no real reasons to stay. But still you’re both stuck in this loop.

South Dakota, of course it’s South Dakota. Cold, desolate South Dakota where the wind and snow will not let up, and the team are forced to remain cooped up in a cheap motel, desperate for any sort of entertainment.

Here he is, coerced into your room to work on the case, overtime, his eyes are rimmed crimson.

You’re sprawled out across the bed while he sits at the other end, slender legs crossed. Spencer is tired with a weariness that seems to go soul-deep, shoulders slumped forward, glasses oblique.

The tension is near-palpable, stifling. “I can do this myself. No offence,” full offence, “but you’re unneeded right now. In general, really.”

You make him cruel. Or no, maybe this job does? He can’t remember himself unscathed now, fresh-faced to the BAU, unaware of what he’d endure. It’s still early days in recovery, two months since he was entirely, indomitably reliant on Dilaudid.

“No you can’t,” you retort. Maybe it’s unprofessional, disreputable to waste so much breath on insults, to dedicate specific moments to hostility— people are dead, people will keep dying. And yet, perhaps there’s justification for this; your mutual animosity is the only semblance of routine to this job, the only way either of you can seek control.

Control. All you do is reach for the blade.

“You’re just bitter that I know what I’m doing. You’re not infallible, Boy Wonder. You need my help, so shut up and read that autopsy report. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can go back to my apartment and forget you exist.”

Well that’s certainly unlikely.

“I think,” he says, and he knows this is going to be bad. He can feel the serrated edge to his forming words, his half-baked analysis too focused, too distracted, by his need to hurt. But he’s exhausted, and these days, he runs on a detrimentally short fuse. Maybe he finds a release in your dynamic, or maybe it makes everything worse. How can something be everything and nothing at the same time?

“I think you’re insecure” he continues, “because you know Gideon values me more. That, to him, you’re replaceable. It’s why you’re so fixated on one upping me. Why you feel the need to prove yourself superior. Textbook insecurity. You can’t stand the fact that he chooses me over you, that he thinks I’m better than you. That my input is more wanted, more necessary.”

This is uncharted territory now. It’s never been pushed to this extent. It’s never gotten so morbidly cruel that his words actually pierce. You’d consider yourself to be thick-skinned, bullet-proof, a mess of hardened edges and calloused flesh. But he regards you with such insignificance, in a way that’s different from your own personal view of him.

Obstinate, petty, a smart kid yet to meet his match. But never insignificant.

There’s silence, and then he’s dragging you down with him, forcing you to dig deeper, to smother wounds with salt. “Did he really choose you, though? No one on the team noticed. Not one person. After the Hankel case? When you came back different?”

Spencer falters.

It’s a vulnerable, raw spot, a laceration that never seems to heal; the worst part is that you’re right. He’d been in a spiralling decline for months, in plain sight, but everyone had been so absorbed in their own issues and god he needed a release. No one noticed. No one ever notices.

That he has no life, no prospects outside of the BAU. That his existence has been one comicotragic mess of inexperience, missing the mark, missing the joke, the punchline, the fact that everyone was always laughing at him, behind his back, to his face, present or gone. It didn’t matter? Why would it ever matter to a bunch of washed-out teenagers?

He was robbed of his adolescence. And these days, he barely gets by.

Spencer’s eyes drift back to the files, avoiding your perusing gaze, if only you had enough decency to soften your eyes. Just once.

“You don’t get to bring that into this.” He murmurs. “Shut up.”

“You started this—“

“Are you 5?” he bites back, “I was making an observation.”

When he abruptly stands up, files clattering to the floor, discarded despite the prevalent case, you’re quick to follow after him, to chase him into the cheap motel corridor. Because no, he doesn’t get to walk away from this. Not when he laid the first blow, when the first cut was drawn from his blade. Perhaps it’s perverse, to chase the hurt that comes from being around him. Maybe it’s all just an elaborate way to self-harm, to find release in the distorted relationship you both share.

“Where are you going? You can’t walk away from this one.” you state, gripping his arm. Nails pressing into skin, crescent marks that’ll stain and remind and then ache— it’s repetitive now.

“I covered for your ass.” you knew about the addiction, you knew, and even though omitting such information to the BAU could’ve lost your license, you still. Didn’t. Say. Anything.

It’s not like it took much effort to discern the truth.

“I also signed your email up to about 100 rehab centres and self-help blogs.” you’re not sure if you did that out of malice, or if it was your own, interpersonal way of minimising the damage, despite the circumstances.

You noticed. The rest of the BAU, who pressed false promises of friendship, loyalty into his shaking palms didn’t notice. Didn’t even think to humour what he became at his worst. But you did.

Furthermore, to add onto that jarring conclusion, you helped him. Admittedly in your own insufferable, (downright mocking) way. But it was help, and that’s more than he’s ever received before.

All he knows right now is that he hates you, hates the person he is, the person this job, and the intransigent presence of you, forced him into becoming.

All he knows is that he’s stumbling forward, cupping your face (taking your grip along with it), and kissing you. Kissing you hard. Like he’s Icarus and you’re the sun, worth the inevitable burn, even if the touch is only momentary, even if it’ll seal his fate as foolish.

It’s a mess of harsh, rough skin, tousled hair and sharp teeth against soft lips. It’s like trying to grasp at stardust, his hands fumbling for purchase along your body, trying to push you closer, as if the chasm of space between you is unbearable, a distance that’s impossible to endure.

He laughs when you respond instinctively, a sharp excuse of a noise, muffled by your swollen lips, and he’s just kissing you through it because he hates you, he hates you— he hates you so much that sometimes he can’t breathe when you’re around.

You crawled under his skin a long time ago, made yourself a home there.

“I think I’d rather be held hostage for a second time than kiss you again.” he says, and he might’ve elaborated further, but his lips abandon such a notion to chase your own.

The kiss becomes more languid, more desperate, like he’s trying to find an answer in response to it. There’s a brief, agonising break, foreheads pressed together, a harsh gasp of air, before the moment restarts.

God you taste good. Feel good, he thinks. He’s never been this intimate, not beyond Lila, that fleeting mess in the pool. The two events incomparable, he felt something then, small and minuscule, not enough to pursue. But right now? Oh, In contrast, he feels everything now.

“I wish you were being held hostage. It’d be quieter,” you retort. It’s muffled, and you’re moving, bodies stumbling into obstacles as you relocate, when did you get to your room? It feels like natural progression, evolution, diminutive changes that you don’t even realise are occurring.

You bite his bottom lip, draw it between your teeth, ruin him for anyone else. Because isn’t that what you’ve been doing for years now? Hurting each other so profoundly that only you can bare the scarred aftermath?

It’s sick. It’s sick, and you wonder how petty comments, trivial work-place rivalry distorted into this? How you’ve just ended up sick because of each other, and admittedly, for each other.

What is sickness without pleasure?

He whimpers. The noise almost imperceptible, but it’s there, and it’s pathetic, an unbecoming thing caught somewhere between a gasp and needy whine. He’s backed against the wall now, and he can’t find it in him to complain.

“Of course it would be you,” he says breathlessly. For all the knowledge he lacks here (physically; he’s well-versed in the hypotheticals of anatomy), he doesn’t feel pure.

People like him don’t get that.

He should feel guilty. He should recoil at the touch, at the knowledge you bear, at the reality of this. Except, for some unknown reason, he relishes in the idea of someone having him, even if the cost is his pride, his dignity, even if the cost is you.

He whimpers again as your teeth rake along the slope of his neck, shuddering at the sharp sensation, and he’s almost begging, words on the verge of being uttered.

But he can’t. Because that isn’t him when he’s with you. “Are you going to punish me? For uh, everything I said tonight? Because ah, god, I’d like to see you try.”

Admittedly, it’s not hard to break his resolve. A few more soul-crushing kisses and your wandering hand, dipping beneath his trousers, hard. Obscenely hard. Yes, he’s muttering as you unclasp buttons, as you loosen his trousers to the extent that you can palm him through his boxers. Half-choked gasps escape his bruised lips with every touch, and he’s crying now. Pretty tears streaming down his face, accentuating those doe-wide eyes of his, now glossy and warped.

“Only person who’s ever touched you, huh?” you state, and maybe you derive pleasure from that concept. That only your hands, drenched thick with staining blood, have ever scrutinised the warmth of his skin. The areas where his form curves, and the areas that make him come apart, undone at the seams. Grasping you, relying entirely on the wall, just to remain upright and somewhat conscious.

He makes another noise, another guttural, pathetic sound. Because, yeah, it’s just you. It’s only you, and the thought should be unbearable, but the pleasure of having, being touched is too much.

He has to grasp the back of your shirt, nails digging into fabric, as a distraction, a way to centre himself, while the rest of the world falls apart. His words are scattered, broken and messy, and he finds himself saying things he’ll inevitably regret. “Please, I can’t-“

He’s supposed to hate this, hate you.

“Cant— can’t take it. Oh,” he wants to bury his face into the crook of your neck, but you’re gripping his jaw, forcing him to look directly at you. Glasses discarded, the view was blurry without the added layers of tears.

“Eyes on me, boy genius.”

He complies. Gaze locked, unable to look away, entranced by the way your pupils dilate, staring at you, like you’re artwork, something to be studied and broken down and torn apart, only to be rebuilt again once he’s had his fill.

“Let’s look at you. Hm?” you state, removing his sweater, then his shirt, and there’s so many layers, and he’s acting coy now, as if he wasn’t whimpering moments prior.

Instinctively, by reflex, he tries to cover himself up. To hide planes of untouched skin from your gluttonous palms. You grip his wrists, pin them above his head, and oh isn’t this a sight: Spencer Reid, entirely bare, bound by you alone, tear track marks and swollen lips.

He always wanted to be seen.

He just didn’t expect, anticipate, being seen to this extent. He can’t fight your trailing gaze, and he doesn’t want to; it might make him flushed, a few irrational movements away from a cardiac arrest, but this it— raw uncut intimacy.

You’re softer now, as you run your hand along his dick, earning a variety of muffled noises, as your thumb brushes over his tip, taking care to touch every part of him. Everywhere he needs it. When you finally wrap your fingers around him, everything burns, fervent and collapsing, and he supposes this is what it felt like the moment Troy collapsed.

“Mhh,” he moans, hips bucking in time with your palm, steady movements.

He’s already so messy, and it should be embarrassing, but all he feels is the blunted edges of pleasure, the jagged cut of humiliation, warring against each other.

“You’re— oh.. you’re enjoying this far too much,” he manages, and it takes so much energy to get it out, his words slurring, interrupted by debauched gasps.

It feels good, so good that he can’t process the shame that’s bound to follow. He hates you, and he might be a little in love with you, and it’s not fair to process feelings, chemicals, he was never supposed to obtain.

“That it’s. There you go. That’s my good boy.”

Spencer sobs.

“Shh, shh, I know, I know, it’s a lot.” there’s always an element of condescension to your words. An undertone that rips through his defences. Destroys him in the process.

His body is receptive, ruined, because of the praise. He’s not sure how you can look at him, clearly, consciously, and dictate that he’s good. Most days he feels impure, debased. Burnt-out and wasted, the great always fall.

The same skin he pierced with needles is now reverently on show, and you should be cruel, it’s what you’re both good at, the only viable way to communicate, an undisclosed secret language. But you’re not. That confuses him to no extent.

“I can’t— cant, ‘m so close.” his arms are still bound above his head, and despite the ache, he keeps them there. It’s not the most conventional ‘first time’, but he takes it regardless.

“Yeah?” you mutter, pace picking up. The sound is obscene, his excessive pre-cum smeared across his length, wet noises with every stroke. “You wanna cum for me, hm?”

“Oh god,” he breaks, “Yes— yes, please—“

You have no interest in denying him, not when he’s this destroyed from a mere hand-job. “Go on then. Just because you asked so nicely.”

He falls apart. Dewy-eyed and blissed out, you force him to look at you as he reaches his orgasm. To keep looking as he squirms and writhes. So he does, because apparently his cognitive function has evaporated now.

Your tongue meets your palm, tasting him, pressing the excess into his mouth with an indecent kiss. Is this what sex entails? Complete submission, vulnerabilities bared wide? Dirty in that primal sense, the same one he always shied away from?

Finally, finally in the aftermath, he breaks his stare. His head falls back against the wall, eyes closed, neck exposed. Stifled gasps, it’s quiet, as if you’re both aware of your actions, the consequences of them.

“This is, uh— yeah.” he mumbles, reaching for his clothes; now the ecstasy has worn off, the shame overpowers. The sin of man, he’s starting to think you’re the personification of the serpent.

Or maybe it’s the other way around. He doesn’t hold his own body to such pure standards. He’s not sure any benevolence would look at him with acceptance. Not after everything he’s done to it.

“Hey wait,” you’re not good at this whole ‘nice’ thing, not when it comes to him. But there have been moments, in the past, small, fleeting seconds of…. you’re not entirely sure what to call them. Late hours spent scrutinising cases, your back-up points to his statements, mindless information dumps that the team can’t quite understand.

“Don’t make me chase you a second time, jesus.” You can’t just leave—“ you exhale, breathe, in and out, “Are you okay?”

He stops. He stops because you’ve never asked that question, never cared to ask that question, and maybe that hurts more than not being asked at all.

A part of him, the small part of him that’s not functional, wants to stay, wants to just stay in this bliss and pretend that it doesn’t matter, that the inevitable fallout won’t occur. But the larger, prominent part, reminds him that this isn’t right, that he needs to leave and collect his wits.

“I don’t know, im confused—“ he sighs, drags a shaky hand through his hair. “Yeah, im uh… i’m fine. “I just need to leave, I have to-“ he swallows. “I can’t. Not right now, I need to do— anything but this.”

He walks out on you and it’s fine.

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Everything is fine, reality can return, and you can forget that you had his arms bound against the wall, that he fell apart from the weight of your dragging palm. You can pretend you never saw him naked, bare in every form of the word. Stripped raw, his lips burning against yours, skin on skin. It’s. Fine.

Life continues. Your dynamic remains the same, unrelenting, your biting words, just short of callous, his scathing remarks. Modus Operandi. You wonder how you’ve turned the most tender person into something sharp, and you wonder if it’s ever going to be reversible.

When the case closes, the BAU, in predictable, systematic fashion, celebrate (ease the weight) over drinks. You’re adorned in lace, a black dress that just catches your thighs. It’s late now, and by the time you arrive at the dive-bar, the majority of the team are intoxicated (you couldn’t go straight from work, there was still blood clinging to your skin).

Everything is fine. To reiterate.

It’s not.. It’s not. Because oh, Spencer finds himself staring. He’s fairly certain he doesn’t have any lingering interest. But then again, why is he fixated on the way fabric clings to your ruinous figure, the way your hair sits, slightly dishevelled, pooled over one shoulder? It’s exasperating and inebriating all at once. You shouldn’t be able to affect him to such an extent, and yet here he is, mindlessly staring at you with starry-eyes. He should look away. Leave even?

Of course, he fails. You end up squeezing in next to him, all leather seats and too little space.

And, okay, he knows he should feel guilty.

In reality, he’s not. Because, sure, he’s sat too close, and sure, he can just make out the scent of your perfume, faintly floral. But he’s intoxicated, just as everybody else is, and it’s making logic and reason seem far off, too distant to process. He looks at you once, then twice, like he can’t quite believe you’re tangible.

“You look nice, I guess,” he murmurs bluntly, looking away, feigning disinterest.

As if the ‘incident’ (as he’s taken to calling it) didn’t tilt his world on its axis.

“You also look nice, I guess.” you retort, and it’s the best you’re going to get out of each other. At least in this state (the surplus of praise that left your bruised, possessed lips cannot be justified, or repeated ever. again.)

You lean forward, watch as his face creases at the proximity. Are you thinking about the kisses? Plural, fuck, plural. Open-mouthed, desperate movements?You’re. not. Instead, you steal his glasses, slip them on. The prescription is strong, thick lenses that distort your perception.

“What do you think?” you ask, “I might go as you for halloween, it’ll definitely scare the kids.”

“They make you look intelligent. Considering you need all the help you can get, I’d take that as a compliment,”

It’s a domestic action, to put on his glasses. And the thoughts that burn through his mind stem from HR prohibited to domestic, which he argues is far worse. You, tangled in sheets, sporting nothing but his glasses. Resting against the tip of your nose, askew, as you ride him. As you tilt your head back, exposing— no.

He wants to say something about how ridiculous you look— but it’s hard to focus, you’re taking up all of his sanity, like a computer running multiple programs at once. You’re malware actually, destined to corrupt him (which you’ve already done to a painful extent).

“You can’t just touch my stuff.” he settles on, sounding more petulant than anticipated.

“Oh chill out, boy wonder. It’s a pair of glasses,” you mutter, removing them to blink blink blink, and there he is, the centre focus of your vision, now fully detailed again. It takes you a moment to render in his appearance: shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows, arms exposed, long, deft fingers. There’s heavy bags gathering beneath his eyes, dragging down those big, blown-out irises of his, wide and completely dirty (how is it that his natural resting face is so obscene?).

Focus.

You push the glasses back onto his face. Better, it’s a sight you’ve come to anticipate after he ran out of contact lenses. “There. Oh, were you just upset because you couldn’t see me properly? That’s sweet, Spence. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He can see everything.

Every small detail of your face; strands of hair falling loose, dilated pupils, accentuated by heavy liner, obsidian that contrasts against your incisive eyes. Your lips, oh your lips, he could write a thesis on them. Stained crimson, if he were to kiss you right now, residue would catch against his own mouth, incriminate him.

He gets up. Excuses himself. Sometimes he wishes he could vanish.

But it’s not good enough.

“You,” he says between messy kisses, “Need to keep your hands to yourself.” — okay, he’s not sure how this happened. He left for the bathroom (to splash water on his face, gather his dignity, perhaps drown himself?) and you to humour the locals outside, gathering around with half-smoked cigarettes and slurring conversations.

But then, on his way back, padding through the long corridor (why is it always a corridor?), you were there, and yeah. He was screwed. Fatefully wrecked.

He had tried, in the moments leading up to his demise, to resist, but he was a man of logic and science and the science, when he was around you, simply did not apply. You’re bad for him, in every sense, he should avoid you, he should stay away.

But now, there’s no space between your bodies, no space for rationality or reasoning (god he’s tired of the thinking part. He just wants to feel).

The kiss is rough, sloppy, a desperate, messy thing. “This can’t keep happening,” he mumbles against your smeared lips.

“Do you remember last time?” you question. It’s taboo, to bring it up, to disclose the buried. But you’re fairly certain this compromising position wouldn’t exist without the lethal effects of that one night. The cheap motel and his body arching into your touch.

Rationality appears to be nonexistent now. A discarded concept.

Like last time, you guide him back against the wall, pin his hands above his head. Mirroring your actions. Well, to some ‘dignified’ extent. “Had you just like this,” you lean forward to press a series of kisses along the curvature of his jaw. “I bet you’d let me take you like this again, hm? Right here? In the middle of this shitty dive bar?”

And if he weren’t so far gone, he’d protest, he’d tell you that no, this is wrong, because you’re so wrong for him. He knows that if one good man has to fall, it shouldn’t be him.

But you don’t let good men rise, and there’s something so enticing about the depths of hell. He’s not sure he’s good anyway. It’s a complex situation. “You’re a sadist,” he murmurs, breathless, “I wouldn’t.”

Your grip instinctively tightens against his wrist, and he squirms. He’s nervous, “Could we, like… at least find a bathroom? I’d take a bathroom, even though there’s endless strains of bacteria there. Or, or split a cab. No, i’ll just pay— Anything. I’ll do anything. Just not here. This is a public space, and technically, public indecency, and—“

“Fuck,” he’s never been the type to swear, “I’ll do anything.” this time, he says it in self-defeat. Acknowledgment.

────────────

French exit. His wandering hands in the cab, and the electric pulse that burnt through his body as he kept a low profile, stumbling out of the bar, muttering thinly-veiled excuses for his abrupt departure.

The second you’re both inside your apartment, you’re clattering into things. “I love your eyes,” you state bluntly, forthcoming in every sense of the word, “Love it when you cry for me.”

You think of every harsh word that has ever escaped your lips, You think of the consequences they might’ve had. Did he ever cry over them? You know, in contrast, you never did over his. Though there was that sharp, sinking pain that felt like the embodiment of slow death. Something terminal, fated to linger, to eat and eat until nothing remained.

No big deal!

“It’s an involuntary bodily response. You’re a dacryphiliac.” he responds.

There’s not a lot he can compute right now, his brain too preoccupied with processing your touch alone. Which is so prominent, so harrowingly good that not even his genius mind can comprehend it.

He’s reasonable to believe he would kill whoever had the pleasure of experiencing you like this.

“It’s not a fetish if I only feel it for you—“

Spencer breaks.

“No-no-no,” he says, too loudly, “You can’t just- say those things. You can’t tell me you love when I cry, just because- I should be scared, of you. You’re volatile. Destructive,” he murmurs, head leaning against the crook of your shoulder. Against better judgement. But all reason has left him now. You’ve stolen it, taken it as a personal trophy to parade and boast about.

“Why am… Why am I not scared?” he asks, “It’s not like I make you cry…”

“Because there’s no reason to be scared.” you answer simply. And at surface level, it’s true. In spite of the hostility, the years of white-knuckled rivalry, you’ve always trusted him. It’s a coveted admission, considering you’re circumspect by nature.

You unbutton his shirt, let it fall to the floor, exposing his skin in the middle of your apartment. He’s standing there, and you’re not sure what to do with all of this want that perhaps you’ve misplaced as enmity for so long.

“You could make me cry,” you state, because if there’s one person out there capable of cracking you open, leaning behind fragmented pieces, it’s him. It’s always going to be him.

It’s a startling realisation. That he, Spencer Reid, of all people, can reach the centre of you in ways nobody has ever done before.

“Why would I want you to cry? That’s— i’m not even sure how I would go about it.”

You grip his hips, walk yourself backwards until you’re hitting a wall, there your body instinctively curves forward to meet his. “It doesn’t always have to be bad.” you explain, because he’s looking at it from a simplistic, textbook perspective. “Last time,” those words still feel like poison, “When I made you cry, there was no pain, right? You cried because it felt good.”

He’s staring at you clueless. Though, he might just be distracted. Either works.

Your hand catches his wrist, and then you’re hiking up your dress, guiding his touch beneath fabric. The lace panties that cover skin. He’s tentative, experimental, dragging his thumb over your clit, causing your hips to cant towards him. “Make me cry, boy genius.”

You act like this is the most indecent thing he’s capable of doing. From an unbiased standpoint, it’s up there on his list, but admittedly he hasn’t really done enough to constitute a list in the first place.

Spencer, in response, simply drops to his knees. Your panties are pulled down your legs in a disconcerting haze, and then he’s just groaning, cursing Gods he doesn’t believe in, spiting them with blasphemy, whilst also simultaneously thanking them, humouring false promises he won’t commit to.

It’s blasphemous, a prodigy on his knees, in front of you, for you. As if he’s worshiping something he can’t even comprehend, something beyond the expanse of his knowledge. And you just pull strands of his hair, pull at the strings of him.

His hands find the inside of your thighs, caressing the soft skin there and you make another noise, a noise that has him devouring you.

Face buried between your legs, he flattens his tongue against your clit, drags it upwards to catch wetness, to affirm that you’re just as affected as he. That since you touched him, all thoughts have consisted solely of you.

He doesn't think he's doing this correctly- but you're making noises, gasps that he didn’t even know you were capable of, and that's the thing about science or anatomy, whatever it may be, the brain is incredibly subjective, and the more knowledge you acquire, the less you really know.

And there's knowledge here, but it’s not utilised; no coordination, even when there should be, even when he’s got the human body memorised to perfection. Still, you seem to like him messy, desperate, drawing your clit into his mouth to pull, to tug, before shifting back to blow cold air against you.

The task was simple, at surface level: make you cry. And whilst, if you pick it apart, it becomes more complex, he seems to be efficient in following orders because right now, you’re ruined. It might not be the most meticulous head you’ve received (though you’re sure, under different circumstances he could probably surpass that standard), but it’s wanting, in a way that makes you ache.

“Oh oh, fuck— fuckfuckfuck.”

You grip his hair, twisting and pulling and using, and he lets you, he’d do anything, do this forever if he had to. His fingers, still gripping your thighs, dig into soft flesh, leaving visible marks. And he wants to see those marks, in the morning, an irrefutable fact that would force him to accept this as real.

But he can’t focus, can’t think about anything when you’re reacting like this, so undone. How can there be anything, at all, beyond this?

He lets you drape a leg over his shoulder, let’s you get off against his face, fingers sliding inside, one digit at a time, to feel warmth wrapped around him. To feel the way you clench when he curves them, when he grazes spots that he could explain to factual detail.

Your body shudders, and you’re making noises he hasn’t heard before, sounds that could only be described as obscene— and his name, you’re moaning his name, and god, he’s certain he would follow you to the ends of the earth right now. Without question.

It’s when he stops, when he leans back enough that he can breathe. That he can look at you, really look at you.

You’re messy, undone. The sight could be considered humiliating from an outside perspective, but you’re gorgeous, and he’d do this a thousand times over if it resulted in this exact reaction. A reaction that he’s given you. No one else.

“I love your face.” He says, a little bluntly. But it’s true, he does.

So he returns to the task. Practically situating you on his face now to suffocate him, to let him become some sort of extension to your pleasure. And inevitably when you fall apart, tears and writhing, boundless pleasure, he can only push you through it. Allow his existence to crumble, for the second time,

And as he draws back, face covered in you, he can only stare.

His knees are bruised. That’s the first thing you notice when you stumble to the bedroom, when you’ve taken a moment to wipe away evidence of the tears, to regather and compose yourself. It’s not in your nature to be soft, no to him, but you still find yourself kissing the mauve blemishes, working your way up his body after you’ve oh so unceremoniously undressed him. Reduced to his boxers, he’s an incriminating sight.

“Losing your virginity to me is like the biggest irony ever.” you say, kissing along his stomach, watching as his body reacts, arches, contorts in search of more pleasure. It’s a hypnotising sight, to see every nerve tuned to you solely.

“Ironic, demeaning, enough to send past versions of myself into an early grave. Yes, I get your point.” he mutters.

Your hands find their way to the waistband of his boxers, and he’s lifting his hips, because he wants you to undress him, because he’d let you do anything right now, but he also feels embarrassed, exposed. Vulnerable in a way he’s never felt before. You’re seeing him, seeing things he doesn’t even know himself. But there’s nowhere to hide, not while you’re slowly pulling off his underwear, with a care that he’s unaccustomed to.

“I won’t go easy on you,” you assure. Even though that’s technically a straight-faced lie. Of course it’ll be more tender than anything else you’ve endured; he has this devastating habit of softening those around him. It’s only taken this long to affect you out of pure, unbridled spite.

Oh, he wants. The evidence is his body alone. Laid out before you, like an offering, a hedonistic one. Dick hardened, dripping pre-cum onto his stomach.

“Hands above your head,” you watch as he blindly obeys, any defiance now crushed. Well, for the most part: at least in his actions. “That’s good— good boy. Tell me if they’re too tight,” you say, binding them with his discarded tie.

You stare, and it’s like you want to eat him alive, and against better judgement, he’d let you. Serve himself up, passive as you tear him limb for limb, taste all the bad parts of his existence, the ones he keeps hidden shamefully away.

“Too tight? I’ve been held hostage, I think I can handle a little bit of fabric.” he retorts before tugging at the restraints, “Tighter.”

“Didn’t realise you were so into this—“

“Neither did I,” he scoffs, “I’ve never done it before, obviously.”

“Now you have. Congrats, i’ll give you a sticker once we’re done. Gold star, huh?” and just for good measure, you tighten the restraints further. Just a few more pulls until you’re knotting it in place. Until he’s entirely defenceless, but realistically, what would you do? It’s hard to find fear when you’ve covered him on the field for over a year (he’s prone to being targeted, an unsubs wet dream).

“Yes, thank you. I’ll put the sticker on the wall next to my PhDs.” right now, right in this moment, countless people are getting what they want.

And Spencer is being manhandled by his pretty coworker.

Ironically, that’s exactly what he wants.

You’re the perfect dichotomy. Cruel, and caring. Harsh words to juxtapose gentle hands. Soft touches, but scathing remarks that linger, leaving behind a trail of scars, the ubiquity of your cruelty.

You’re lethal, and he’s smart enough to comprehend the danger. Except he’s never been smart when it comes to people.

Your hands are acquisitive, roaming, searching, blunt nails that scrape skin as you rake them down, down towards his abdomen. He shivers, bite into that pretty bottom lip of his until he’s spilling blood, and it’s a sight. Something sick that you both want to such an offensive extent.

“Sensitive.” you murmur, like the idea of him so reactive pleases you, in a way you’ve never considered before. Because the way his body strains, bucking forward to deepen the contact is maddening.

“Are you always like this?” you wonder aloud, leaning down to run a hand along the length of his inner thigh. “Poor baby, so touch-starved.”

“I don’t know if I’d use the word sensitive.” he replies, “More susceptible to the fact that you’re touching me, and that I haven’t felt another person touch me in a long time. And of course when people touch me, it’s usually professionals poking me with needles or stitching this weeks new wound.”

Touch-starved? He has sensory issues. The lightest graze can provoke, cause his skin to crawl. Of course he would like your touch, of course the universe would torture him by finding relief in the one person who nobody should stumble upon for relief.

“Oh you’re a soldier, you suffer so much.“ you state, and it’s condescending (naturally), but there is some truth to the serrated comment. You, the team, are all bruised, mentally and physically distorted from the consequences of the job. Only he could react so reverently to your calloused hands, blissed out to the extent that it looks like you’re witnessing ascension.

It’s pretty. Pretty, in a soft, domestic way. One that demeans his bound wrists and your sharp words.

You press a few tender kisses to his thighs, the inner sections, where you’re certain, assured, no one has ever touched before. Maybe there’s something possessive to that thought, the want to own, to know that no one will ever have him the way you have him.

Your touch is like a brand. He wants it, even if it’s bad, even if it’s cruel. Because the alternative to this is nothing. A lonely existence. A life of work, of chasing shadows, knowing he had so much to give, and no one to give to.

“Stop mocking me.” he replies, it’s through laboured breath. “Just because I don’t have your proclivity for taking hits doesn’t mean I don’t suffer.”

No one’s ever touched him like this. No one’s ever cared to try. You’re his first.

“I know you suffer,” you retort, are you arguing? Is this foreplay? If it is, then you have some serious self-reflecting to do on every single past conversation. Because maybe you should’ve taken him to your bed earlier, in that case.

Oh god was your hatred of each other built solely on sexual tension?

Finally, you move. Just like the first time, your hand runs across his length, taking him slowly, easing him into it, coercing him through the pleasure. It’s not similar to before: it won’t end after he’s found his release, and it’s not frenzied and ardent. Spurred on by shame.

“And you know i’m always going to take the hits for you, regardless.” he whines when you remove your hand, and whines again, for contrasting reasons, as you spit on your palm, generate lubricant to support each stroke.

“Oh—“ he breathes out. He’s fairly certain he’s supposed to be more contained. A huff escapes his lips and then he’s retorting, “You could try a tactic other than reckless self-sacrifice every once in a while.”

He’s overwhelmed, with you. All of you. The way you look, the way you talk, all the harsh lines and scathing remarks. The way you take the hits for him, an altruistic custodian, but he isn’t worthy of being saved. Isn’t worth the effort.

“Shut the fuck up, Spencer.” you say, promptly ending this discussion; you grip his dick tighter, tilting your movements to catch him at a better angle.

“Shit— okay, okay,” he moans because that feels really really good, and he wishes he could articulate it in a better way. Something complex and poetic, but it’s just so good.

He’s always been a little masochistic. Too smart for his own good, too analytical. He wants you to take him apart, piece by piece, and see the inner workings of his body laid out before you, raw and vulnerable. Because only you can see him like this.

He doesn’t even really touch himself. There’s been nights, body flushed and wanton, bucking up against sheets, muffled noises pressed into his pillow. But they’re rare, and they usually lead to an aftermath of ignominy.

He’s a prodigy, a genius in the field of criminal psychology. So why does it feel so good like this? To be humbled, to be demoted. As if all his degrees, his awards, his intellect, mean absolutely nothing.

He’s never felt so loved. Which is ironic. Because he’d always hoped love would be slow, gentle. Soft, like a caress. The kind of love you share over meals and pillow-talk.

He realises, with a jolt to his system, that if this is love to you, he’d accept it, in its most primal form.

“You get off on this,” he analyses as you draw back, mostly to stifle the begs that nearly escape his mouth. Come back, need you here.

“Well I’d be pretty concerned if I wasn’t getting off on this right now—“

“No,” he pushes, “You like that i’m, that yeah. I have no experience. You want to corrupt me, huh?” he looks up at you with pretty, innocent eyes. Holy shit. “Ruin me for anyone else? Go on, let me have it. I’ll only come back, i’ve already done it once. Statistically, it’s going to happen again. And again. Pavlovian responses, condition me. Make my body react to no one else.”

When you kiss him again, he can only take it. Can only moan, whimper, plead against your mouth until you’re lining him up, until you’re sitting on his dick, and everything is okay.

“You’re so—“ bottomed out, wrapped around him entirely, you sigh. “Fuck, Spence, who taught you to be so fucking dirty?”

“You.” he mutters, playing coy. “But you’re a bad teacher, I think I could do with a few more lessons..”

“I think you could do with learning to shut your mouth more often.”

“It is better suited for other purposes, I suppose..”

He gags when you slot two fingers, index and middle, into his mouth. No warning, no predetermined acknowledgment. They hit the back of his throat, and he can only suck, muffling protests around the digits until he goes blissfully silent.

“Better,” you retort. Drawing them out, you press your thumb against his bottom lip, keeping it parted so that you can lean forward, spit into his open mouth. When you first met, he promptly refused to shake your hand, too conscious of the dissemination of germs, now? He’s swallowing your saliva, unprompted, with little resistance.

You know him. The way you touch is like you’re searching for something. Anything about him. It’s like you’re a bloodhound, trying to unearth every single vulnerability. And you must’ve found them, because you’re suddenly here, bearing all your weight on him, moving, and it’s all his body can do to take it. All of it. All of you.

He tugs at his restraints, because he won’t go down without a susceptible fight. Even if he knows it’s fated that he will inevitably fall. “Please—please untie me, just wanna hold your hand.”

And, oh that shatters you. Like, mentally, physically, spiritually dismantles you until you’re breathless, staring at him with widened eyes and a loss of composure. It’s such a tender request, something domestic and raw, and mindlessly you’re fumbling with the knots of his tie. Freeing them to take one in yours.

It’s against your nature, but you can’t help, can’t refrain yourself from pressing a kiss against his knuckles. “You’re doing so good f’me. Such a good boy,”

Your free hand runs across his torso now, grazing skin, admiring the sight of him, flushed, debauched, sprawled out beneath you.

He grips your hip. That’s the first thing he does once he’s sufficiently sane, well… partially, the praise did knock him entirely off balance. Tip the scales, send him over the inexorable edge.

He watches as you take the incentive to slip off his body, and the loss of friction is okay, tolerable because he’s sitting up against the headboard, drawing you closer, whining for you until you’re on his lap, until you’re sat in your rightful place.

Here, he can kiss you. Which he admits has become a very vital aspect to his existence.

The kiss is like a bruise. Not rough, he’d never be rough with you, he’s all long, languid strokes and soft movements. But it’s overwhelming, and leaves discernible, lasting imprints.

And yeah, sure, kissing you is the closest thing to worship he has ever known. Something he would like to commit to memory, every single time your lips touch, it’s like he’s seeing god in the shape of your cupid’s bow.

“Please, I need—“ he stutters over his words, “If you don’t move, I swear—“ he pauses, his head falling against your shoulder— “I swear, I’m gonna die, this has to be against the Geneva Convention, you can’t leave me like this, please—”

“The Geneva convention? Really? Is this your form of dirty talk?” you retort, unable to muffle your laugh.

“No. I’m stating my rights,” he says, “Torture is prohibited.”

“I’m not torturing you—“

You tangle your hand through his hair, tug tug tug, and then pull, drawing his head back by tousled strands, forcing him to meet your gaze.

“Ohmyfuckinggod, yes. You are.” he whimpers.

It’s indefensible how good he feels, how he sinks into you, hitting crevices you’re certain no one else has ever grazed before. Feeling full, whole, it’s new. It’s your own first, and you can’t even begin to articulate how defenceless you are to the way it makes you disintegrate, fragment to pieces of pleasure. Spencer is warm, and soft, and it makes you want to cry. To just fall, give in, transcendence of self, Burke said, and right now, you feel that entirely.

His moan is unapologetic, unfiltered as you move. At this point, you could slice him open, leave him bleeding in your bed, and he’d thank you for it.

You hold his hand, and yet, simultaneously destroy him.

“Please,” he whimpers again— he’s too pretty to be asking so nicely. “I just— I want you closer. As close as possible, I want you so close to me that I’m not even sure if my body can handle it.”

It’s not dirty talk, it’s more like he’s begging you, tears staining his skin, pitiful eyes, wide and glassy, staring at you with some form of desperation. Brows furrowed, gaze soft.

And his gaze only grows worse when you do give him what he wants, when your pace fastens.

It’s a religious experience, like he’s about to be crucified, a martyr to his pleasure. He’s almost afraid to touch you— to stain something divine, like you’re too much for him. But you’re not.

“I like this. Like you. Like you here. You’re so good for me,” he murmurs, and it’s untruthful, but right now, he sincerely believes it. “so good, so perfect, all I need, please—”

“Stop it.” you bite, preferring him defiant over this— because this opens up wounds you weren’t even aware existed. “Oh fuck, stop it.”

“So good. You’re so good,” he cups your face, presses his forehead against yours, and you might as well just die right here.

“Says you.”

“Says me.”

You fuck him harder.

“Oh,” is all he can pronounce, little oh’s every time you rock against him, and he has to grip you hips, deepen the movements until you’re bouncing against him, up down up down, exploiting his sensitivity with a torturous pace.

And it’s not fair, he needs to balance the scales, so he runs his thumb over your clit, firm halos that have you keening. “If being nice got me this, I’d be so nice to you for the rest of my life—“

Another lie. But it’s worth it. If only for the way you kiss him. The way you silence his cutting words, forcing your way into his mouth, forcing him to just squirm and sob, until you’re clenching around him, and he’s there with you. Falling apart, bodies shifting until movement ceases, and there’s nothing but bliss.

“I hate you so much,” you say in the aftermath, and it’s closest you’ve ever gotten to a confession of love.

He laughs, wipes away tears, “Hate you more.”

“Don’t leave this time.” he just nods, bordering on nonverbal now. It takes you hours to coax actual words out of him, and by then, you’re both tangled in a foreign mess of warm limbs.

“Oh i’m going to be so mean tomorrow.” you mutter, playing loosely with his hair.

He can only sigh, stare at you dreamily. “God, is that a promise?”

#sub spencer reid #sub spencer #brat spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #enemies to lovers #rivals #idk they hate each other but want each other #it’s a messy situation!!#id hate to be either of their therapists #or HR who has to deal with the fallout of this

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n0thingbutlov3 · 4 months ago

Text

need you now | 2 |

in which readers true feelings are revealed.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings/tags: angst again (whoops) miscommunication (it’s short dw) fluff, reader is hungover lol, spencer is handsomely disheveled (moans) mentions of blueberry muffins being readers favourite type of muffin (sorry for not being vague but also if you don’t like blueberry muffins??? why) some tears, some swearing, some kissing, suggestiveness at the end of you squint (WHOOPS *evil smirk*) no use of y/n!! wc: 2.1k a/n: call me slim shady because i am back!!! i procrastinated writing this because i was scared everyone was secretly judging my writing and actually hated it and a second part would be a stupid idea but THEN i realised that was a little bit silly so im here B) part one got over 1000 notes (INSANE) all the support has been so so lovely—every note, reblog, and comment means the world to me, thank you!! i hope this part is okayy, feedback is always appreciated :) i hope you enjoy it you choose to read!!! <3 p.s kissing scenes are so difficult to write, i think i done absolutely awful!!!so let’s ignore that…. if you haven’t already and you’d like to, you can read part one here!

Your eyelids twitched as the early morning sun filtered through your bedroom. What was usually a calming wake-up call now felt like being blinded.

You burrowed your face into your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut in an attempt to dull the throbbing in your head. This is why you didn’t drink often.

Asides from the obvious headache and nausea, you always seemed to wake up with a sense of dread; ‘hangxiety’—a friend had called it once. It was creeping up on you now, and even though you weren’t sure exactly what you had done, you knew it was bad. You flipped onto your back, fixing your gaze to the ceiling as if it could tell you what irreparable mistakes you had made last night.

It couldn’t, of course. The only thing you had realised is that you should probably coat it in a new layer of paint soon.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shot up, eyes widening at the sight of a man in your doorway. A man whose sleepy voice and disheveled hair threatened to make you melt, but a man who should not be in your doorway, nonetheless; Spencer.

Your brain was quick to supply you with information then, your memory coming back in hazy remnants. You were upset so you…called Spencer for the first time in months. Yikes. He didn’t answer so you turned to a bottle of high end whiskey instead—yikes, again—and passed out on your couch, only to wake up to your ex-boyfriend in your apartment. Cue more sobbing, a pathetic attempt at asking—no, more like begging—him to get back together with you, and that was it. Well, mostly. There was also the promise of discussing your breakdown in the morning. The morning, which was now.

What the fuck.

“Like I’ve been napalmed.” You weren’t sure you were just referring to your raging hangover.

That prompted a raspy kind of chuckle from him and Jesus Christ—you really shouldn’t have called, because it was going to be infinitely harder to watch him leave when he inevitably told you you were sad loser who needed to get a grip and move on—except, he’d be a lot nicer than that, wouldn’t he? Because even if things were over between you, he was still the sweetest person you had ever met and he’d never say anything to intentionally hurt you. Maybe things would be easier if he did. If he wasn’t so sickeningly perfect—if he just insulted you in the way you were certain you deserved, then maybe you’d get over him quicker.

“So, I-ah-uber’d breakfast—“

Your inner turmoil came to a screeching halt at those words.

“You uber’d? You?”

He scoffed, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“The team’s been very into it lately and I always finish my paperwork first so it only makes sense that I—stop laughing! I can uber!”

“Sorry! I just can’t imagine the great Doctor Reid stooping to the levels of a fast food delivery app. Do you ever order to the wrong place?”

“No.” he said, unconvincingly. “Well, only once—“

You were laughing again.

He whined, turning on his heel.

“Just take your aspirin and hurry up!” He grumbled petulantly as he left the room, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

After a quick freshen up and taking the pills placed on your bedside table—as per his request—you padded through to the living room, joining Spencer on the couch.

You gasped delightedly as he pulled out muffins from a brown paper bag. To be more specific, blueberry muffins; your favourite.

“Did you know that blueberries are good for fighting hangovers? They’re rich in vitamin C, which helps break down and metabolise blood alcohol. Muffins too, they—what? Do I have something on my face—“

“No! No, sorry,” You had been caught staring—ogling, more like. “I just missed…that.”

“What? My incessant rambling?” He was joking, but you could hear the insecure twinge in his voice—the one that told him he was too much. Over the course of your relationship, you had showed him that he didn’t have to think like that around you—that he was never too much; he was perfect in your eyes. You hated that he doubted that now.

“Yes, actually.” You tried to keep your tone light, unserious. But there was nothing unserious about just how badly you had missed the man sitting beside you. How you could hear his voice in your mind when you drove late at night, giving you statistics on accidents. Or how on other late nights, you swore you could feel his hands ghosting over your skin—only to find out it was your imagination.

If he could see how truthful you were being, he didn’t acknowledge it, turning his attention back to the coffee table.

“I’ll, um, save you the facts on how beneficial coffee is for hangovers, anyway.” He smiled awkwardly, shuffling a paper coffee cup to where your muffin sat.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, “for the coffee, not the withholding of information—i’m a real fiend for coffee facts…especially when they’re related to curing hangovers!” You said a little too cheerily, trying to alleviate the awkward tension. Although, that only seemed to make it worse.

Spencer just huffed out a little laugh in response, taking the wrapper off of his muffin.

The rest of breakfast went by in silence. Not the comfortable silence you always seemed to have with Spencer—when you were together, you reminded yourself—but a strained one. The kind of silence that occurs when there’s something left unsaid, and you’re just waiting for someone to spit it out.

Spencer broke first.

“So we should probably talk…about last night.”

You finished the remainder of your coffee, setting the empty cup down before turning your whole body to Spencer, tucking your legs up underneath you.

“Right, yeah…”

A beat passed, Spencer’s eyes darting around your face—assessing you.

For someone who had imagined this conversation in your mind countless times, you certainly weren’t saying much.

“I—uh…was very drunk.”

Something in him shifted, like he was putting up imaginary walls.

“So you didn’t mean…any of it?” His brow furrowed, his nose twitching slightly.

“Well no, but I—“ You what? Meant every word you said and more? You couldn’t just say that. You had just got a small part of Spencer back and you didn’t want to ruin it by coming on too strong.

He waited for you to add something, anything, to show him that maybe, maybe there was a tiny part of you that still wanted him as badly as he wanted you. But you didn’t. You just sat there, playing with the fabric of your—his—t-shirt.

He couldn’t do it.

He was so tired of loving people only for them to leave like he had meant nothing to them. Was that all he was to you? Someone you could call when your inhibitions were lowered, looking for comfort? He would do anything to be back in your life again, but he couldn’t be a person of convenience; someone you only wanted when you were lonely.

He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing down the tightness in his throat.

“You were drunk and you got carried away, I get it. I think I better go though—“

“What? No, I—“ You bobbed your mouth like a fish, trying to find the words necessary to keep him here. There were too many of them and yet none at all. None except for three. Three words that you wished you had the courage to say months ago, or weeks ago, or last night. But you never claimed to be a courageous person, and you weren’t about to spill your heart out again only for it to end up in rejection.

Spencer stood, making his way to your bedroom to grab his shoes and coat. He didn’t care about his other clothes, he could buy more—he just needed out before he broke.

You sat dumbfounded on the couch, willing yourself to do something, say something. It was like you were frozen. And you stayed frozen. As Spencer shuffled around your bedroom, as he returned to the living room—completely avoiding your gaze—even as he searched for his keys. You hadn’t realised he had driven over here. He didn’t usually drive unless he had to get somewhere urgently. Were you someone worth seeing urgently to him?

He picked up his keys, heading for your door and only then did you realise how dire the situation was. If he left now you weren’t sure he would ever come back.

“No—wait, Spencer!” You stammered, lunging off the couch to try and stop him. He unlocked the door, moving to leave when you grabbed onto his jacket sleeve.

“Please don’t—I love you!”

“What?”

He turned to face you and you noticed just how wrecked he looked—not at all dissimilar from how you had for the last few months. Had he looked like that the whole time?

You must’ve been staring because when you came back to your senses he was calling your name exasperatedly.

“Do you mean it?”

You were fed up living like this; harbouring so much love for someone and not being able to express it. Even if he didn’t love you back, even if he was over you, you couldn’t go another moment without at least telling him how you felt.

“Yes,” you heaved, “I love you—I never stopped loving you, I was just…” You knitted your brows together, unsure how to phrase what you were feeling.

“I’ve never loved someone the way I love you and that’s…terrifying. I thought the way I felt was wrong, like—when you were on cases, I missed you so much, more than I thought humanely possible and—well, I never wanted to be the kind of girl to base her happiness on another person because that’s how you get hurt. So, I thought the only way to combat that was by…distancing myself. I thought if you weren’t in my life anymore then I’d be able to get a grip and become more independent—“ you huffed, trying to stop the wobble of your voice. “but it didn’t work, because then I was just missing you twice as much, except I couldn’t see you at all—“

“You could’ve answered my messages, we could’ve—“

“So you could return your key? Then things would actually be over. Why do you think I ignored your messages?”

“Why do you think I kept messaging? Angel, I was never going to return that key—at least not willingly—I just wanted to see you, to see if you were doing just as horribly without me as I was without you. You know, I couldn’t even focus on cases—Hotch even suggested I take some time off.”

You frowned, your voice impossibly small. “I’m sorry.”

He took a step toward you, cupping your cheeks in his hands.

“Don’t apologise, you were dealing with your emotions in the best way you knew how. I just wish…” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I wish I hadn’t let you go so easily.”

His eyes were shining and—God, you wished you could take it all back. All the pain you had caused him, caused yourself, just because you were too scared to talk about your feelings.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” You blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes. “Y’know, I read a book on astrophysics because it reminded me of you. I didn’t understand any of it but I couldn’t put it down. I still—“ you let out a watery chuckle. “still have it in my bedroom somewhere.”

Spencer smiled, swiping under your eye at a tear that must’ve escaped.

“Yeah? Maybe I can read it to you—help you understand it.”

“I’d like that.”

You didn't know much about celestial bodies or the ultimate fate of the universe, but you could've sworn you'd seen the stars pictured in that book in Spencer’s eyes when he looked at you.

“Say it again.” He mumbled, tilting his head down so that your faces were just inches apart.

“I love you.”

And then his lips were on yours, impossibly soft and everything you had been missing since you had broken up. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed and all you could do was sigh into him because you knew the feeling.

He leaned back all too soon, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, I should probably go—“ He smirked, but you cut him off before he could continue his teasing.

“You’re not funny.”

He narrowed his eyes, sucking his teeth.

“I don’t know, I—“

You pressed a firm hand on his chest, bunching the cotton of his t-shirt into a fist.

“Stop. Stay—we can have a pyjama day and maybe for dinner, you can show me just how tech savvy you’ve become and uber us some food—“

He rolled his eyes, kicking the door shut before pressing his lips to yours with more force this time.

“Stop talking.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds

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1-800-kami · 1 year ago

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R U MINE? feat gojo satoru (II)

gojo satoru has got to be the picture definition of a stereotypical college frat boy. he’s cocky, loaded with his daddy’s money, and dangerously handsome. it seems like common sense to stay away from him since you’ll never get more than a one-night stand out of it.

that’s why you choose to turn a blind eye once you’ve come to the horrific realization: you’re in love with him. and you’re just itching to ask…

“are you mine tomorrow? or just mine tonight?”

IMPORTANT: this is part TWO (and the final part) of the r u mine? mini series. make sure to read part one of this fic before proceeding! :)

content: 5.4k words, afab!reader, rich college frat boy gojo, SMUT (fingering & unprotected sex.. wrap it before u tap it kids!) ANGST, (i listened to deftones while writing the breakup era LMAOO i was in my feels 😔) gojo "everything reminds me of her" satoru is really going thru it, idk how to feel about the ending tbh, cheating implications, kinda proofread ig, more emo gojo (u luv to see it)

author's note: guys. where do i even start?? first of all, thank u for all the support on the first part of this mini series!! we also hit 100 followers on this blog so tysm for supporting me n my writing <3 here's the long awaited part two (n also the finale) as i promised that i would get it out over the weekend! just a quick announcement that i may be a little bit more inactive from here on out.. mainly because classes r starting again nd im starting to get busier. i do have more fic plans though, (and a geto smut in my drafts? 👀) so i'll make time to write when i can! happy reading and thank u for all the support on this silly little series :)

tags: @soley613 @feariteriu @bear-likes-mushrooms @96jnie @keilaq1 @whydohumansss @luftyluft @fatbootymuncher (bold = i'm unable to tag u)

reblog and interact for a kiss ;)

everything’s been hazy.

you don’t really remember how you got home– you either waved down a cab or walked until you somehow found your house. either way, the alcohol is worsening the pounding in your ears. the straps of your dress are clinging terribly against your skin–you want to take it off, you want to wear something more comfortable, you want to just go to sleep, preferably forever… but you can’t bring yourself to.

you can’t even bring yourself to move.

so the rumors really were true? but why did gojo pursue so far just for you? why did gojo say those words to you when you spent the night together? why did gojo try so hard to convince you that night that he wanted to have sex with you because he loved you–and not solely because he wanted to have sex?

why did gojo lie to you?

another series of pings sound throughout the room, and you finally move to silence your phone. the noise is all so overwhelming. why the hell is your phone blowing up?

you check your notifications–mostly dms from people you don’t know, either asking if you and satoru were dating, or questioning you about what the hell happened at the party. you know that you’re gonna be the subject of gossip once you’re back at campus, and you hate it.

you were surprised at the numbers once you scrolled down your notification list a little further. ten missed calls from satoru, accompanied by a series of fifteen panicked messages. you open it, and you stare sadly at his contact photo and name, remembering the fond memory behind it. once you two actually started dating, you were merciful enough to add a heart next to his name, and even updated it to “toru”. he was elated at that.

you think you can barely even call him gojo now.

the most recent message was barely sent a minute ago. like it was on cue, you see the bright headlights pull up outside of your door. you wanted to sink into your couch and never resurface ever again.

you hear suguru’s car door open and close, and then frantic knocking outside. you walk to the door while sniffling, looking through the peephole just to confirm your suspicions. it was satoru.

“i can hear you crying through the door, y/n. i know you’re there.” he takes a deep inhale, and the tears start rolling down your cheeks again once you hear the complete and utter vulnerability in his voice. you just don’t know what to believe anymore. “shit, i’m crying too. well, i’m gonna explain myself even if you don’t care enough to listen to me. uhm, believe it or not, what happened at the party wasn’t my doing… at all. when you went to use the bathroom, this girl went up to me and started flirting with me, like she was waiting for you to leave or somethin’. i was g’na tell her to go fuck off but she pushed herself on my lap and before i could do anything about it you walked in and it was just all horrible timing and- god. i know it sounds unbelievable, right? you must think i’m terrible right now.”

“you don’t have to believe me. if i were in your shoes i wouldn’t know what to think either. i’m just… explaining what happened.”

there’s a long period of silence between you and satoru, aside from the occasional sniffling on both ends. you don’t know what to say. you want to believe him. you want to do nothing more than to open the door and let him hold you in his arms again, but you just don’t know what to think anymore. you poured your entire heart out to a man who you knew you shouldn’t be messing with, and now you don’t know who or what to believe. you feel like a fool, and you’re just tired. so damn tired. the silence feels asphyxiating, like it's tearing your relationship with satoru further and further apart the longer it draws on.

satoru is the first one to break the silence. “i’m guessing from the silent treatment that you don’t believe me. it’s okay, y/n. i’ll wait an eternity for you to forgive me because i’ll always choose you- fuck… over anything, and i hope you know that.”

your mind is a mess, and satoru’s words make it even messier.

i’ll wait an eternity for you

i’ll always choose you over anything

you put your head in your hands and sob. it hurts.

a minute passes–gojo hears you get up from where you’re sitting behind the door, and his heart fills with hope.

“i just… i just don’t know how to believe you, gojo.”

his heart breaks when he hears the door–presumably to your bedroom–open and close, leaving him alone with his shattered heart. his heart breaks when he takes in your voice, noticing how weak and exhausted you sounded. he wonders how much you’ve cried just from this past hour alone. his heart breaks once he realizes that he’s alone with his thoughts again, alone with the voice in his head that was berating him for not being able to prevent all of this if he hadn’t frozen up and just pushed her away the second that girl started flirting with him. finally, his heart breaks once it registers that you called him gojo–the last name that he shares with his corrupt and money-crazy family… the family he tries so hard to get away from. it was also the name you called him during the days that you barely trusted him.

now, he’s back to square one, and he has none of your trust again. this time, satoru swears that he’ll do anything in his power to get it back once more.

you didn’t come to school today.

there’s been nothing but radio silence on your end. gojo has sent you countless messages over the weekend asking how you’ve been, with the occasional desperate voicemail where he tells you that he loves and misses you. you’ve turned off your read receipts, so gojo doesn’t even know if you’ve seen his texts or listened to his voicemails. he’s concerned for you, even though he knows that he’s the reason behind all of this. he was hoping to talk things out with you today.. but you weren’t even here.

one thing gojo knew about you is that you cared deeply about your academics, and you wouldn’t miss attendance even if you were sick. it pains him to know that he was the reason that you weren’t here today. you were avoiding him, and he felt helpless.

he’s talked to geto—and the best advice that his best friend could offer was to “find proof that you didn’t cheat on her.” he’s right, though. the last thing you had said to gojo was that you don’t know how to believe if he’s telling the truth or not. gojo has absolutely no idea how to prove his fidelity to you, since words clearly weren’t enough. it frustrates him to no end.

gojo now knows that he feels absolutely lost. all when he’s not with you.

it feels nerve-wracking to walk the halls.

he remembers telling you the night that you slept together that he’d learned over time to drown out the rumors about him. he learned not to care about what other people thought about him, and he eventually became unaffected by the school’s gossip.

however, this time was different.

this time, he finds it difficult to drown out the rumors when he hears your name in them. he flinches every time someone whispers your name and his as he walks the halls, feeling that all eyes are on him. “i heard y/n and gojo broke up…” “they were dating?!” “yeah.. i didn’t believe it at first, either! apparently he…”

he doesn’t want to hear it, so he walks a little faster. it hasn’t felt this suffocating to be on campus in a while.

maybe that’s partially why you didn’t show up. rumors are hard to ignore if you don’t know how to shun them out.

gojo lets out a sigh. he decides that he’s going to ditch the rest of class. you weren’t here, he couldn’t talk to you, and he felt he was gonna go mad if he heard your name spoken by someone again, so he turns to leave, but flinches as he feels a hand lightly tap his shoulder.

“gojo-san?”

he turns around, with a girl that he’s never seen before standing in front of him… not that he pays attention to them in the first place, though. he raises his eyebrow in question, and the girl looks so nervous she might pass out. “i have to tell you something-“

“if it’s a love confession or whatever, i don’t want to hear it-“

“-no!” she flushes a deep shade of red, and he fights the urge to roll his eyes. she coughs awkwardly at his expression. “um, no.. it’s not that. please, just give me two minutes in the library. i have something to tell you.”

he decides to entertain this girl for a bit. he’d be lying if he said that he wasn’t curious about what she had to talk to him for. gojo sighs and says, “two minutes. that’s all you’re getting.”

“this is about the party last friday, no?” he says while taking a seat near one of the tables. he feels sick just being here. he’d never gone to the library before meeting you–as he had no reason to go here at all. then, he started accompanying you everywhere as he tried to win your heart. “study dates” were frequent here, and he even remembers forcefully changing his contact name and number on your phone during one of your dates.

gosh, everything literally reminds him of you. he can barely live like this.

she takes a seat across from him, and she shamefully nods at his words. “i went to the party on friday, and i just want to say i’m sorry-”

gojo gets up to leave. he can’t do this. he doesn’t need anyone’s pity. pity can’t change the fact that you still won’t talk to him. she panics as gojo is about to walk away. “wait!”

the librarian tells her to quiet down, and she mutters an apology. still, she persists. “please, just wait for two minutes… i need two minutes to explain myself. you promised you’d give me that.”

she stares at gojo, who hasn’t left yet, and takes that as her opportunity to speak. “i was a friend of… her,” he doesn’t need an explanation to know who she was talking about. “the reason why she came up to you was because of a dare i told her to do. she’s had a crush on you for a while now, so of course she was willing to flirt with you.”

“um, that was the dare, by the way. my friend told me to record it, because we were all drunk, and we thought it would be funny. just another memory to laugh at in the future, right? we didn’t know you were dating the girl you were with at the party. sorry but, we assumed she was just a fling… or something… we didn’t know she was your girlfriend.”

“yeah, i was dating the girl at the party.” gojo scoffs, and he feels his anger bubbling up again. “then your friend had to do that stupid dare, and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.”

“i’m sorry-”

“i don’t need your apologies. is that why you came up to me? to apologize so you don’t feel guilty about what happened anymore?” gojo sneers. he was right, though. guilt is ridden all over her face, and she can’t even meet his eyes. he’s about to leave, thinking that this entire conversation was useless, but gojo thinks back on what she said earlier.

“...my friend told me to record it…”

he turns back to look at her, which surprises her, to say the least. “hey, you said you recorded the dare, right?”

“uhm, yes.”

“so you still have the video?”

“it should be in my camera roll somewhere-”

“if you came here to apologize to me, then you should send me that video.” she looked a little horrified at his words, and gojo could almost laugh. “what? i’m not gonna do anything bad with it, god.”

she thinks about what gojo’s intentions could be with that video, and her eyes light up in recognition as she connects the dots from what he said beforehand. i was dating the girl at the party… then your friend had to do that stupid dare… and she won’t fuckin’ talk to me now.

she nods in understanding. this is the least she could do for him. she pulls out her phone, looking for the video, and says, “i hope you two make up soon, gojo-san.”

gojo satoru walks- no, runs out of that library with determination. determination as he finally has the video evidence of what happened at the party–his saving grace so he could finally get you to forgive him.

you miss him.

you miss him like hell, actually, and you blink at the messages he just sent you in complete disbelief.

you didn’t show up to class today because you were afraid. you were afraid to see satoru again, yes, but you were also afraid of what everyone else would say about you. the party was one thing, but the after-effects and the rumors were something completely different. you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with that, unlike satoru, so you stayed home. all because you were afraid of what would happen on campus.

you just wish things would go back to how they were before… all of this happened. you didn’t want to admit it, but you’ve read all of satoru’s messages, and you’ve listened to all of his voicemails. you’ve cried to them. and it hurts because you’re still torn apart in the midst of your own feelings. and now, satoru wants to talk to you, because he’s been wanting to do nothing but fix everything between the two of you.

the doorbell rings, and you almost jump out of your skin.

you didn’t even know if you would open the door or not. despite that, you felt your body moving on its own, like you were relying on your own instincts. you washed your face to get rid of the dried tears on your cheeks, brushed the tangles out of your hair, and dressed into something more presentable. the next thing you know, you’re leaning against the wall next to the front entrance. your shadow is visible underneath the door, so satoru knows that you’re here.

“hi, y/n..” he sounded so nervous that you almost laughed, but you felt equally as terrified as him. “i have something to show you… uh, on my phone. if you don’t want to see me, it’s fine, i’ll just send it to you, but i’d really prefer if you open the door and we’ll talk about this inside-”

your hand is already reaching the door knob before you can even think about it. it’s such an impulse decision that you look at him in surprise once you open the door. it’s the first time you’ve seen him ever since you were at the party. it’s only been three days, but you can’t help but notice how his eyebags are more prominent, his eyes are a little redder, and he looks nothing short of exhausted.

“hey,” he manages to breathe out, his eyes meeting yours. “can i come in? please?”

you nod, too stunned to say anything, and he exhales in relief as he walks in. the two of you sit on the couch, and gojo notices how you’re keeping your distance from him. it breaks his heart a little.

he looks for the video on his phone and gets ready to show it to you. this is it. his last ditch effort for your forgiveness. he’s really fuckin’ hoping that this works. “i got this video from a girl who came to the party. it’s a recording of, um, what happened.”

he hands the phone over to you, and you take it skeptically, still choosing to keep silent. you press play, and you watch the recording. a shaky hand holds the camera, and the person behind it says, “holy shit, she’s actually doing it!” they're presumably talking to their friend, and the camera focuses on a girl walking over to gojo. your heart is pounding, eyes widening in recognition as you stare at her... the one who caused all of this in the first place.

the all too familiar girl comes up to him, saying something out of earshot. when gojo looks at her, completely uninterested, she pulls that move. the scene you saw at the party before you ran out. tears fill your eyes again, and you almost want to stop the video, but your interest is piqued at the next part.

..this… this part was something that you didn’t see. gojo angrily reacts at the girl’s move, with her falling on the floor as she looks at him, stunned at how furious he looks. the person behind the camera gasps, continuing to record out of shock as a crowd of people turn to stare at the two. geto eventually comes into the frame and takes gojo away from all the chaos. the video ends there, and you grip gojo’s phone shakily.

holy shit.

tears roll down your face, but this time, they’re tears of relief. you waste no time in hugging satoru, crying your heart out as you bury your face in his neck. you’re happy. you’re so fucking happy, and so relieved knowing that he didn’t lie to you. of course he didn’t.

“m’sorry-” you sniffle into his shoulder. gojo is so shocked at what was happening that it takes him a second to hug you back, but when he does, he starts crying. “m’so fucking sorry i didn’t believe you-”

“shh, it’s okay, it’s okay…” he says, and you only hug him tighter. “m’so tired, you know that? these past three days fucking sucked. i’m just so glad you’re in my arms again, fuck-”

“-i love you, i love you, i love you so fucking much, toru.” you repeat, laughing as you kiss him all over his face. it’s been a while since you said that to someone. you wipe his never-ending tears away, still in disbelief, and whisper, “you’re real. right? you’re actually here with me right now ‘nd i’m not dreaming, right?

“i’m very much real, baby.” he says, putting his forehead against yours as you take in his features again. “god, i missed that pretty face so much.”

he finally closes the gap between you two, pulling you into a much needed kiss. it’s a kiss filled with so many emotions–desperation, happiness, relief. satoru thinks his heart is finally whole again. he’s missed you. he’s missed you so fucking much, and you’ve missed him too.

you’re like an anchor to satoru. the light of his life that keeps him grounded. and god, he’s been apart from you for too long.

you reposition yourself as you’re deepening the kiss. you’re on his lap now, and you wrap your arms around his neck, tugging on his hair in desperation. “oh yeah? ‘y gonna do anything about it?"

“of course i am,” he says, hands roaming underneath your shirt as he caresses your bare waist. fuck. he needs you. right now. especially after thinking that he was about to lose you forever–for something that he didn’t even do. “i’m gonna show you just how much i missed you, baby.”

gojo can’t let you go.

you’re in your bedroom, and both of you waste no time undressing each other. he takes you in–all of you, in awe of every crevice of your body as he trails his hands further down your waist.

god, you’re so beautiful. “i can’t believe i almost lost you.”

his words are shaky, like he’s still uncertain that you’re real and you’re in his arms again. he can’t seem to break himself away from you, almost like you’ll disappear if he lets you go. “but i’m here now, toru.”

“i’m here to stay, and i’ll never let you go again… ‘m yours,” you whisper, and your words set a fire in him, fueling his body with nothing but desperation. desperation to have you right here, and right now.

he wastes no time in plunging two of his fingers in your cunt, and he groans at just how wet you are. “satoru-”

“fuck, you’re so wet… and it’s all for me,” he mutters, spreading your legs effortlessly when you try to close them, thighs shaking in pure pleasure. he adds another finger, and you already feel stretched to the brim, and you haven’t even taken him in yet. the thought of his cock inside of you makes you even wetter than you already are, and you look up at satoru with eyes full of lust and desire. “missed you so much, baby. missed you and your pretty little cunny,”

his fingers are long, and you whine at how full you feel right now. you’re so loud, and you don’t even care. right now, it’s just you and satoru finally feeling each other again. it’s only been three days, but it feels like you’ve been apart for years.

everything about this was filthy. from your erotic moans and the way your cunt squelched against his fingers… not to mention the vice grip you had on them- fuck, satoru thinks he can cum untouched just from watching you like this.

“haa-” you whimper when his fingers curl and hit that spot in your cunt that you can barely seem to reach on your own. it’s exhilarating, and only fuels the growing heat in your stomach. “toru- don’t stop- please, i’m close-”

“really?” he taunts, and it feels so fucking good–your head is numb, and the only thoughts filling your head are thoughts of satoru. the pleasure is too much, and you try to get away from him, but he keeps you in place, curling his fingers faster as punishment. “don’t run away from me, baby… be a good girl and just take it, yeah?”

“toru- fuck- i’m gonna cum, please-” you’re on the brink of release, but suddenly, he stops, ruining your orgasm. “no- wait-”

he pulls his fingers out, and you whine at the loss of stimulation. you were so close–why did he take that away from you? you try and swat at his hands, but he just takes his fingers and puts them in his mouth, locking his eyes with yours with a sly smile. “you taste so sweet, i can’t help it,”

“aww, is my baby mad ‘cause she didn’t get to cum?” he coos sarcastically, caging you in between his arms as he tilts your face up with his finger. “too bad… the only thing you’re cumming on tonight is on my cock.”

and with that, he eases his painfully hard member into your walls. your insides hugged him perfectly–it was like you were made just for him. you gasp once he’s fully sheathed himself inside of you. his fingers were already a lot to take in, but his cock was something completely different. he moans your name, barely keeping his cool. “fuck- you’re squeezing me so tight,”

“missed everything about you, baby. i need to hold you, please,” he pleads desperately, clasping your small hands against his. the size difference alone between the two of you almost makes him cum, but he holds himself back, choosing to bask in this intimate moment. he’s missed every part about this. “you ready f’me?-”

“-just fuck me, satoru, please-” he doesn’t need another confirmation from you.

he can’t bring himself to hold back. next thing you know, he’s fucking you into the mattress, and you feel the headboard shake at how fast satoru is going. fuck–you feel every part of him, every part of his cock as it slams against your tight hole. he’s so big, you feel yourself gasping for breath, and you moan out loud as you notice the prominent bulge forming in your stomach. it’s him, it’s all him, and it’s driving you mad.

satoru follows your eyes in the midst of all of this, and he watches everything in fascination. he decides to be a little mean, and presses his free hand against your stomach–it feels so good, you could almost scream at the pleasure. “you feel that, baby? that’s all me inside of you, hmm?”

“please-” the onset of pleasure feels so overwhelming, and tears fill your eyes. you feel an oncoming orgasm coming, and you know your release will hit you like a tidal wave. your heart is pounding, but satoru only grips your hand tighter and fucks you even harder. “oh, fuck!”

“m close, baby. are you g’na cum too?” he manages to say between pants, and you somehow nod, mind hazy and your release only coming closer. you feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. “cum inside of me, toru- please- i need to feel you-”

gojo groans at your words, and you both cum together. you ride out your high, screaming as you spasm around his cock, the pleasure overfilling your senses until you’re trembling from it. he fills you up, staying inside of you as the two of you catch your breath. everything’s hazy, and you’re barely aware of your surroundings… it takes you a few minutes to recover.

“angel, are you with me?”

“yeah, fuck, just… give me a second.” you say, and gojo thinks that he would gladly give you all the time in the world if you needed it. he pulls out of you with a hiss, and his warm seed drips out of your cunny. it makes his cock twitch, but he knows that you’re probably not considering a round two right now.

when you come to your senses, you notice satoru–who put his clothes back on already, wiping your legs down with a rag. his touch is so soft, like he’s afraid to break you, unlike how he handled you just a moment ago. you look down and notice the bruises starting to form on your legs and waist. satoru looks guilty as he stares. “i didn’t go too rough with you, did i?”

“not at all,” you reassure him, and you see him soften up a little. “it felt really good, actually… thank you, toru.”

“s nothing. you know my girl only gets the best,” he teases, and you laugh. “i’m gonna go get you some new clothes and some water… i’ll be back, okay?”

you nod, closing your eyes again as satoru leaves the room. he’s back in two minutes, and he’s gently changing you into new clothes that he found in your drawer. you’re so tired that you can hardly move, so you let satoru do all the work. he caresses all of your bruises, apologizing again even if you already said that it was okay. he’s so gentle, a swift juxtaposition to what just happened beforehand, and so soft with you. once you’re clothed again, he brings a glass of water against your lips, and you greedily gulp it down as he keeps a hand on your back. he places it on the nightstand once you’re finished, and you grab his wrist after, tugging him back to the bed. “lay with me for a bit, toru.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate, laying down next to you on the bed and placing your head against his chest. your breathing is back to normal, and you feel his heart thumping against your ear. you wrap your arms around him, and satoru thinks that this moment is so domestic that he can’t help but daydream. he looks at your face, memorizing every feature about you with a lovesick look in his eyes. you’re so beautiful, so perfect, and he’s just so fucking glad that he didn’t lose you.

satoru thinks he could wake up to this everyday.

“you’re starin.” you say with an amused look on your face. gojo doesn’t even try to play it off. “what’s on your mind?”

“nothing. i just… love you so much, y/n.” he says, pulling you closer and kissing your forehead. satoru would trade anything if it meant that this moment wouldn’t end. “m so glad you chose me.”

“i think it’s the other way around,” you tease. “you chose me. ever since you saw me at the party, you’ve done nothing but try to win my heart.”

“how could i not? there was just something different about you compared to everyone else.” he reminisces about that night at the party, and how far he’s come with his relationship with you. he remembers that night like it just happened yesterday.

you sigh, almost like you were thinking about that night too. you pull him into a kiss, finally finding the courage within you to say a proper “i love you.” to the man who meant the world to you.

“i love you too, angel.” he says, and you snuggle into him tighter. “you know i’ll always choose you…”

“..from this life and into the next. i’m so glad you gave me a chance, y/n. i’ll forever be grateful to now be called your husband. i’m the luckiest man ever knowing that you let me into your life, and i’m the one who gets to read these vows to marry you. i cannot wait to spend the rest of my life with you. i love you so much, y/n gojo.” he’s crying. gojo satoru is crying, and he’s hardly ever cried before. though, that changed after he met you.

the last time he cried was during pre-k, and now he’s done it time and time again… all because of you. he cried once during your first argument with him, another during the night he thought he’d lost you forever, and then another when he finally had you in his arms again once he proved his innocence… and now, during his wedding, when he finally gets to call you his wife.

and when you share your kiss at the end of the ceremony to symbolize your togetherness, you hear all your friends cheering. mainly shoko, utahime, and geto. if you showed this very scene to shoko during your university years, she’d call you crazy, saying this would never happen. gojo satoru was once a man who’d never willingly committed in a relationship before, but you came into his life and you changed everything about him. it was like magic.

you pull away from the kiss, wiping his tears away and whispering against his lips, drowning out the crowd, “thank you.”

for memorizing all my favorite foods so you could buy them for me. for walking me to class every day. for making me fall in love with you that one day at the park. for waiting for me to slowly love you even when i was scared to love. for waiting for me even if i didn’t trust you. for loving me. for proving those rumors wrong. for proving that satoru gojo is actually capable of falling in love and pouring his heart out to the one he loves the most.

for everything that you have done to love me.

it was like gojo could hear all of your unspoken words. he smiles, letting one more tear roll down his cheek, and says, “it’s all worth it if it’s for you.”

thanks for reading <3 -kami.

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ziggymars · 8 days ago

Text

mirror, mirror (18+) - cl.16

Charles Leclerc x Reader

winner from this poll

warning(s): sentences that would have gotten me lobotomized in the 1900s, terribly translated Italian AND French, established relationship, fingering, squirting, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected pnv, cream pie, horn dog charles and awful writing probably, please don’t hate me im intimidated by the f1 fandom even though i am in it ..... also i didn't proofread the whole thing please forgive any errors, they will probably be fixed soon. minors pls DNI.

word count: 3.7k+

A/N: mama an inchident behind you ! I know I was going to post this like a month ago, but I'm going through it sis AND my computer ate the original so I had to rewrite this oop. i'm very sorry to everyone who was expecting timo, the mexico city gp had me feral so you get this monstrosity. don’t hesitate to send any dirty thoughts you have about charles, perhaps inspiration will strike and i will give you the gift of sinful prose. i'm nervous to post this but i'm going to anyways xoxo zigs

The first thing you usually hear that is a clear indication that Charles is home, is the purr of his engine pulling into the driveway. A sound that had quickly become one of your favorites. A cacophony that drove your neighbors completely mad, music to your ears. Next came the jingling of his keys, echoing in the foyer. Which was very clear to you from where you stood. Today you were faced in front of a ginormous mirror. It had just gotten delivered but the installation guys wouldn't be able to make it until next week; so now it was placed, halfhazardly, against the wall in the living room. Definitely not where it was supposed to go. It looked kind of nice there regardless, reflecting the warm glow of lights in your shared home.

You glanced over at the clock, a familiar anticipation bubbling inside of you. He had mentioned an interview with Max earlier, and you could only imagine how it had gone. The door creaked open, and you turned your head -- a warm smile spread across your face at the sight of him. There he was, looking so effortlessly handsome as he always does. "Honey, I'm home!" He chirped, once again, as he always did. Charles strode to where you stood, and he stopped in his tracks for a moment as his eyes fell on the mirror. "Wow, um.... that's huge," he said with a raised brow, astonishment clear on his features. He continued walking towards it and ran a finger along the ornate frame, your eyes following it the entire time "I didn't expect it to be this big."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his observations, you had thought the same thing when it came. "Neither did I." You said as you followed closer to him to wrap an arm around his side, head on his shoulder. "What do you think?" You asked, "I think it will look really nice in the stairway. Installation guys can't make it until next week though.”

Charles mirrored you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He tilted his head to the side as he studied his reflection and then he began to study yours. "I think it will look really amazing once it's put up. For now it takes up a lot of space, no? I guess that's alright." He said, the last part mostly to himself.

For a moment, you both stood there, caught in the sight of your reflection. There was something intimate about it, even if both of you were fully clothed. It captured your visage but also the energy in the room; remnants of shared memories and love. An idea came to him that made all of his cares about its current placement fly out the window.

"Do you want to try it out?" Charles asked suddenly, catching you off guard. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, don't you want to see how we look together?"

A warm flush spread across your cheeks and you ripped your eyes from his reflection to look at him for real as you asked "Together?"

"Of course. You know what I mean." He laughed and turned his gaze to look at you too, the intensity making your heart skip just a beat. "Please. Let me play with you, il mio cuore."

Your shoulders brushed as you turned to face him, your mouth opening to protest. You had two Cornish hen's in the oven that you desperately did not want to burn. It wouldn't have been the first time you nearly started a fire because of Charles' obsession with pleasing you. It was a protest that he didn't even let escape your mind before he was placing a finger over your lips to silence you. "Just turn it off, if you're worried about dinner." He knew without you even having to say it, he could smell the aroma from the kitchen. And while it did smell really, really good -- the pull to explore this mirror’s capabilities was too strong for him. Too strong to miss this opportunity.

You gave a playful roll of your eyes before you kissed the finger pressed to your lips, a sigh of “Fine.” slipping through the space around it.

Too excited to wait even a moment longer, he gives your ass a light spank, saying "Hurry along." The commanding tone sending a shiver down your spine and a skip in your step as you did as he told; scampering to the kitchen to turn the oven off. It took you no time and even less to get back to him.

"Good girl." He purred and then pulled you closer to him by the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, maneuvering your body until you were both facing the mirror. Charles towered over you, his torso brushing against your shoulder blades. He ran one hand across your collarbone and then down your clothed stomach. "This will be fun, I promise."

"I don't doubt that," you breathed, goosebumps starting to rise in the wake of his fingertips as your eyes closed, "it's just a bit awkward, watching myself."

"No.." Charles cooed, his fingers gliding back to where they came from, tracing along the swell of your breast, the feeling of it causing him to take a sharp inhale. "You're beautiful, please, look at you."

When they found their way to your nipples, which were already pert under his touch, your eyes finally fluttered open. A soft, almost indiscernible grunt leaving your already parted lips. "You're so excited already, and I've barely touched you." He said, a cocky grin slipping to his lips as he pinched at one of them absentmindedly. You let out a quiet yelp and your back can't help but arch into the touch, "More, please." coming from your lips.

Nearly every time he heard you say that, he would oblige. Right now was one of those times. Charles slid his hand down, slipping it under your shirt; fingertips gliding across your flesh, "So soft." He remarked, his voice becoming more thick the closer his hand got to cupping around your breast. Where he kneaded, his fingers melding to your skin deliciously. You gave off another soft grunt, your thighs wriggling in an attempt to rub them together. "Oh, feeling needy today?"

You were tempted to roll your eyes but decided against it, not wanting to thwart any chances of getting what you now desperately wanted. He took notice of your self restraint so he rewarded you by snaking his hand down and into the hem of your spandex shorts, the ones he loved so much. Charles was met immediately with the feel of your already slick folds. "No underwear, mon lapinou?" (my bunny).

All you could do was nod your head and look at his reflection with a pleading look as the pad of his middle finger circled in the slick you produced. "Use your words." His voice was a gentle coo urging you on.

"No underwear." You confirmed with a shaky voice "Please, Charles, you're driving me crazy."

"You drive me crazy all the time," he said "perhaps this is payback." The same smirk glued to his lips from before as he moved his finger up and down gently against your clit. "Fine," he huffed "I'll give you what you want though." It was partly for you, but also selfish reasons. He was eager to watch the show you were about to provide for no one but him; the thought of it intoxicating him relentlessly.

Without another word, he's tugging your shorts down and allowing you to step out of them before he dramatically, and honestly, a bit comically threw them to the side. Not giving a single care to where they went, tunnel visioned on nothing but making full use of the mirror.

Next, Charles started to pull the leather arm chair that was skewed beside the couch to sit in front of the mirror; patting his legs with a look to you. “Take off your shirt and come sit on my lap.”

Finally finding courage and clarity through swirling vestiges of lust, you purred a simple "Yes, papà."

Something you didn't call him often. Something you saved in your back pocket for when you really wanted to rile him up. A special treat, for a very special man.

One "Oh, Gesù Cristo." (Jesus Christ) and you knew it had worked. Perfect.

Charles' pupils blow wide and stuck to your hands that were now removing the last remaining piece of clothing. Your eyes, however, were settled on the wet patch that had formed on his shirt, almost the very instant that you had called him the name he loved so much. "Do you like what you see, papà?" You asked, metaphorically poking the sleeping bear.

"Love what I see," he said, beckoning you closer "but I'd love to see what you look like with my fingers inside you a little bit more, come here. Please." Near the end of the sentence, his voice was almost a whine. Giving away just how much he wanted to feel your body against his. You weren't cruel, and to be fair you wanted this just as bad as he did. So you were doing as you were told for the second time this evening. You clambered to settle in his lap and he was quick to adjust your legs. Spreading them impossibly wide with rough hands, your breath already beginning to bait at the implication alone.

Then Charles did something that left your cheeks burning; he spread apart your folds. His mouth fell open as he gazed at the sight in the mirror, admiring your beauty. “Look at that," he swooned, "so pretty. So fucking gorgeous.”

Feeling sheepish from being so exposed, you tried to turn your head and bury it inside the crook of his neck but there was absolutely no way he was going to let that happen. With his other hand he grabbed your chin, not hard enough to actually hurt you but hard enough to make you look; forcing your gaze to where his fingers held open his prize. "See? What did papà say?" He said, his tone scolding yet still warm "So pretty."

Your hips wriggled in his lap, a futile attempt to grind back against the now achingly hard length that was flush against his stomach. Trying to urge him on, to do anything else besides continue to wordlessly look at you like he was going to swallow you whole.

"I'm speaking to you, mon lapinou." Charles tsked, his index finger now circling around your entrance, "don't be rude."

Realizing you didn't have another option, you couldn’t be shy now that you had opened this can of worms with one simple name, you managed to parrot him “So pretty.” Followed by a choked and begging “Please, touch me.”

“Good girl.” He cooed, simple and sweet before he was plunging one finger into your depths; a soft, languid moan falling from your lips. If your vision had been any more clouded, you might have missed the way his eyes nearly rolled back at the sound alone.

Charles’ grip tightened on your chin, keeping your focus steady to where he was now slowly, but surely drawing his finger out, and then back in at an excruciatingly slow pace. Enough to give you what you want but not getting ahead of himself just yet. His eyes dipped closed for only a moment as he leaned forward to pepper gentle kisses to your shoulder. When his eyes open he had to still all of his movements for a moment, genuinely fearing he might cum in his pants at the very sight of you perched in his lap. Your lips parted, legs spread, arousal dripping down his wrist. It was enough to make him weak.

You let out needy whines, hips bucking against his hand, urging him silently. Charles chuckled and obliged, slowly pumping a second digit into your tight heat. “That’s it, ma belle. Let me make you feel good.” He purred, his accent becoming more evident the more he lost himself in the sight. He watched, ever intently, entranced by the way you fell apart under his touch — filthy, breathless moans tumbling from your lips like a leaky faucet.

Charles’ deft fingers continued their filthy dance, pumping in and out of your dripping core, his thumb coming to circle your throbbing clit. Your breaths come in short and labored gasps, chest heaving as you started to lean back against him, pleasure washing over your body. Your hips began to stutter and he made the executive decision to remove his other hand from your chin so he could use it to press them back down against him — spreading your thighs even further. “Oh fuck!” You gasped, a choked moan as he was able to pump his fingers even deeper. Your eyes fluttered shut in ecstasy, head falling back to his shoulder. He tilted his own to capture your lips in a searing kiss, tongue immediately dipping into your warm mouth to taste your sweetness.

Charles fingers continued to work, curling them just right. He stroked against the sensitive spot inside of you that made you see stars. A loud and wanton mewl is ripped through your throat, forcing you to pull away from the kiss so you could throw your head back against his shoulder. Obscene wet sounds filled the room as he began to finger-fuck you even harder, reveling in the way your smooth walls fluttered around him. Finally, you manage to pick your head up from his shoulder so you can look into the mirror. Blood rushes down between your thighs as the scene before you comes to view.

A third finger came to play and you were a goner. He reveled in the way your smooth, velvety walls pulsed around him. You became a whimpering mess, your mouth falling open as he met your gaze in the mirror. His eyes were dark and you could see he was holding himself back from just shoving you onto the floor and fucking you into oblivion. It made your eyes roll back, a slow moan of “Charles!” accompanying it.

“You’re close, I can tell.” He says, his voice course but somehow also boastful; knowing he’s the one who knows how to make you come undone like this, writhing in his lap like a first rate whore. One of the ways he can tell is now, how your moans grow even louder, higher pitched. Your hips started to buck against his hand frantically as you babbled “Yes, yes, yes!” over and over in his ear.

“That’s it, amore.” Charles encouraged you, voice husky in your ear. He gritted his teeth, “Cum all over my fingers, pretty girl. Come on, that’s it.”

It was enough for you, it was always enough for you. To hear him commanding you to cum. Like a sleeper agent only activated by a carefully constructed phrase. So with a loud and keening cry, your entire body seized. Thighs clamping around Charles’ wrist, a gush of liquid splashing against his hand and soaking his fingers. It dripped down the leather chair and onto the floor. His eyes widened in shock — you had never done that before. Charles could practically feel his chest swell with pride, satisfied smirk etched on his face. The puddle on the floor in front of you serving as a physical reminder to him of just how well he had done.

Somehow he managed to keep himself composed, grunting as he continued to pump his fingers, coaxing every wave of your orgasm. “Jesus, fuck! Baby!” He growled in appreciation, never ceasing his fingers movements until you were collapsing back, breathlessly, against his chest.

Slowly, he withdrew his fingers and brought them to his lips. You could only watch, mesmerized, when he sucked them clean. A deep moan rose from his throat that reverberated around his fingers. “Delicious,” he said, pulling them from his mouth with a satisfied hum. Charles can barely even hold himself back now, his cock straining against fabric as he stared at the ethereally erotic display before him. You panted, legs shaking from the orgasm he had given you. "Enough of that, mon cherie. I need to be inside of you."

He doesn't give you any time to respond before he is standing, and in one swift motion bending you over the side of the chair. Your face is pressed into the cool leather, your gaze stuck on the reflection of the two of you in the mirror. You didn't mind it being stuck there now, the aftershocks of how good he had made you feel helped your guard come down. And now all you could do was stare at him in the mirror, Charles missed it because he was quick to push both his pants and boxers down, settling himself behind you. You arched your back further and wiggled your hips, a giggle escaping as you presented your glistening pussy for him. He let out a low groan, hands roaming over your ass and up your back. "Fuuuck, look at that." Charles said, taking a moment to admire the view, slowly stroking himself a few times.

Positioning himself behind you, finally, he rubs the tip of his cock across your slick folds, teasing at your entrance. And then without warning, he sheathes himself fully inside of you with one powerful thrust. A long and low moan escapes both of your lips, a sweet symphony of soprano and tenor. Your hands grip onto the leather arm of the chair, trying to ground yourself into reality.

But it's hard. Really hard. Especially when he starts to set a steady rhythm, pulling out almost all the way before slamming back in. Setting a primal pace that leaves the both of you gasping in pleasure. His pelvis slaps forward against your ass with each and every powerful thrust -- each one driving you forward just a little bit more. Your eyes are half-lidded now, heavy with lust. But you will them to stay open. You can see everything in the mirror. The ecstacy etched in your furrowed brows, the bounce of your ass with every jolt of his hips, and his muscles flexing subtly as he fucked into you at a relentless pace. Hands down the hottest thing you had ever been privy to witness.

Another thing you're keen to notice is the way he's so focused on not losing himself. For a man so ready to fuck you in front of a mirror, it sure seemed like he couldn't handle it anymore. Evident by the way his head was thrown back, curses of your name tumbling from his lips over and over. Your eyes begin to roll, overwhelmed by the pleasure and the knowledge that you were the one who made this usually so confident and domineering man feel like this.

Almost as if he could sense your thoughts, his head comes back forward, his hands gripping tightly onto your ass now. "You like this, non?" It comes out with a quiet grunt "You like when I fuck you like this?"

When you're not answering as quickly as he'd like, he's suddenly bringing one hand down to slap against your ass harshly. You let out a yelp that turns into a pathetically pleasured whine, "Yes, Charles! Feels so good!"

Charles rubs his hand along where it had previously struck, soothing the angry flesh. "Good girl," he cooed through gritted teeth "milking this cock so good." One of his hands abandons its grip on your ass to reach and rub tight circles against your clit. It sends cascading shockwaves of bliss pulsing through your bones. Determined to make you cum again, he says "Come on, baby. Cum all over this cock," Charles can feel you tightening around him, your moans growing more insistent and drawn out "I want to feel you." He clenched his jaw, eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

He leans forward and loops an arm under you to palm at one of your breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers as he pounds into you. The new angle allowing him to hit that spot inside of you. His thrusts grow even more erratic, teeth grazing the sensitive skin against your neck -- rapidly chasing his own release. The thought of him cumming, the look on his face, it was too much. You cried out his name and your walls rhythmically pulsed around his cock as you came for the second time this evening. It was his Achilles' heel. Charles' snapped his hips one final time, burying himself deep as he possibly could. There was a long and low grunt that bellowed from his throat as he emptied himself inside of you, both arms wrapping around your middle to hold you close to him.

There was a long moment where the both of you just stayed like that. Your heart rates coming back to normal, still joined together. "You are incredible. The sounds you make, how you take me..." Charles' praises you softly, his thumb running along your swollen lower lip "c'est magnifique. I love you." He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder before he pulls out, slow and careful. Watching as his release trickles from you, a wolfish grin spreads across his lips, but you're momentarily displeased. A whimper bubbles from your lips, wishing he could just stay inside of you forever.

You unfurled your body from it's position across the chair, trying to keep your thighs clamped together as best as you could, "I love you, too."

Before you can even blink, Charles is by your side, giving you his arm so he could walk you to the bathroom. He was sweet like that. Always making sure that he took the best care of you after he had done sacrilegious things to your body.

Together, you made your way down the hallway. Albeit, you had to practically waddle to ensure you didn't spill on the floors you had just so meticulously cleaned hours before.

"Maybe we could just keep the mirror there?" He looked over at you to suggest, cheeky grin in tow. Amusing suggestion from someone who just said that it was taking up too much space.

You laughed and then grimaced, your hand flying between your legs "Please, don't make me laugh right now, Charles."

#charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 smut #formula one smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #cl16 smut #charles leclerc lemon #f1 smut #f1 x reader #formula one x reader

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lukespookie · 8 months ago

Text

sweetheart. | luke castellan x f! child of ares!reader

about - "i need you more than i want to." - camila cabello

warning - smut, all characters are 18+, petnames, oral (f receiving), luke is MEAN. brat taming sorta kinda maybe

a/n - guyssssss i luv enemies to lovers im gonna SOBBBBB anyways i hope this is good lmao

here you two sat. in mr. d's office while he yells at you for fighting again. it wasnt even in a in trouble way, more of a shut the fuck up and get along kinda way.

but it wasnt your fault!!

it all started when you were training. you were extremely upset since luke had, once again, beaten your team at capture the flag. you had such a good plan too!

then, luke just had to come on over and brag.

"you look a bit tense, sweetheart. don't tell me your upset that we won?" luke smirks from behind you, making you turn around.

"you only won because you cheated." you say, your eyes squinting.

from there, it basically turned into you insulting each other back and forth.

you hadnt always been like this. there was a time when you two were the best of friends. but you were driven away by your siblings since the ares cabin and hermes cabin hated each other

so now, here you were getting chewed out all because luke is cocky!!

"you two are both banned from capture the flag until next month." mr. d says, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"what?!" you and luke say in sync.

"luke started it! this isnt fair!" you groan, standing up from your seat.

"how did i start it? you're the one who started being rude!" luke argues. the two of you ramble on and on before mr. d gets fed up at kicks you out.

you and luke walk outside of the big house, burning in anger. leave it to luke castellan to ruin your month!!

his stupid handsome face is always getting on your nerves! and what annoys you the most is that you cant stop thinking about him.

mostly at night, when you touch yourself in your bedroom. luke is who you think of. but who can blame you?! hes just soso hot when you spar, sweat dripping down his forehead and his chest heaving. :(( his veiny arms tense as he holds his sword and swings it with ease.

and gods, his lips!!!

"you started it!" you repeat, annoyed that he was blaming it on poor lil you!! :((

but, thats when you get a genius idea. you had to find a way to put luke in his place, and thats what you had.

as a child of ares, you had the power of telumkinesis, the power to curse your opponents' weapons and transfigure any object into any weapon. you could also change the weight of your opponents weapons, which is exactly what you planned to do.

"we could settle it with a spar?" you sugest, shrugging to look as natural as possible!!

"you're on." he smirks.

you get dressed in your camp half-blood shirt, cut and fitted to be shorter and tighter, and some jean shorts. you throw on your super dirty, red converse and grab your sword, walking to the arena to spar.

you see luke and look down at his hand, holding his sword.you stop walking and.. okay, how does this shit work?

you stare at the sword, focusing only on that and eventually lukes arm drops a bit and he brings his sword up to his face and examine it. it worked!!!

you walk over, feeling as confident as ever.

"you okay, castellan? you look a bit stressed out." you smirk, making him snap around to face you, a scowl on his face.

"what'd you do to my sword, daughter of ares? dont think im dumb." luke snaps, making you scoff.

"i dont know what you're talking about." you shrug.

luke looks around before snatching you wrist, his grip tight as steel as he drags you into the forest.

luke ignores your insults and protests as he pins you to a tree, his hands on your waist and him towering over you.

"not so strong now are you? hm?" he growls, grabbing your face.

"l-luke.. this isnt funny.." you whisper, stomach twisting into a billion knots. "wasnt tryna be" he mutters, grabbing your sword and throwing it gods know where.

"so fuckin' pretty when you're not talking." he sighs looking at you for a moment before connecting your lips.

he kisses you sloppily, not caring to try to use skill. you're stunned for a moment before you kiss back, kissing with as much desire as him.

he pulls away. "shit, can i?" he breathes, making you nod rapidly.

he unbuttons and unzips your jean shorts, tugging them down and letting them pool at your ankles.

"gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart." he mutters, kissing your cheek before he kneels down in front of you.

he rubs his thumb over the wet spot on your panties with a groan, making you shutter.

"you're soaked." he smirks. he pulls your panties down and your pussy is connected to it with a string of wetness. "fuck, who knew you were such a whore?"

he digs in, lapping at your swollen clit like a starved man. your hands find their way to his messy curls, tugging as hard as possible out of spite.

he slightly pulls away. "don't tug so hard." he mumbles, arousal all over his chin. you push his head back into your cunt, moaning when his nose connects with your clit.

he thrusts his tongue in and out of your hole, making you cry out and tug his hair hard. "pull my hair like that again and i'll stop." he warns.

you quickly move your hands to his shoulders, not wanting him to stop eating your cunt.

he goes back to pushing him tongue inside of you, your moans and cute noises egginng him on.

"fuck, luke! dont stop, dont stop." you cry out, back arching off the tree.

he pulls away, breathing heavily onto your cunt. "im not baby, im not."

he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue on it.

"luke! cant, its too much!" you sob, trying to push his head away. "you can take it. you'll take it."

your orgasm crashes over you, shuttering as luke licks it all up.

he stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

you notice the prominent tent in his pants, making you frown. "what about you?" you ask, looking up at him.

"just gives me a reason to see you again." he shrugs, kissing your cheek.

#luke castellan smut #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #pjo series #percy series #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan angst

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fairestwriting · 8 months ago

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Hey, hello, would it be possible to request the first years with a crush or s/o who's constantly very warm so they can basically act as a human heating pad but despite this they're very touch starved and basically melt into hugs and cuddles, gender neutral pronouns would be great, thank you very much and merry (probably late) Christmas if you do this and same to you even if you don't!

another oldie (Visibly. im so sorry anon. i hope an awesome holiday season) i just had to take...... in the name of all my fellow human space heaters

Ace Trappola

One day, his hands got cold, and you were nearby, neck fully exposed, and Ace did what he would obviously do in this situation. Except it turned out he was the one shocked by how warm you are, even though he did make you jump a bit.

He's a fan of the physical affection. He doesn't fluster easily and likes showing you off all smug, linking your arms together or putting his over your shoulder while you're with your friends. The warmth is a great bonus.

When you cuddle up in a hot day, he whines about how you're gonna cook him alive and will jokingly "attempt" to push you off while giggling, then turning on the AC of his room or dragging you both somewhere cooler.

Deuce Spade

The first time you hug, Deuce gets spooked because he thinks you have a fever. He fusses over you for a few good minutes before you can explain anything. Then gets embarrassed of his reaction.

Being Deuce, he'll randomly revisit this worry, but mostly he just eases into it rather easily. He's a little shy, whether you're in public or not, but you can tell he feels comfortable with the way he leans into you.

Feels so bad if you're holding hands and his gets sweaty. Apologizes a billion times while wiping it clean on his shirt. Nevermind that it'd happen even if you weren't so warm, he just doesn't want you to ever feel awkward when touching him.

Jack Howl

Also really warm because of his wolf beastman genes, also surprisingly touchy. It's hard to tell which one of you is warmer, actually? Which in the end just means you end up comfortably cuddled up very oftwn.

...whenever you're away from others, of course. It's not that Jack hates the thought of PDA, but he "prefers to take it slow" (Read: Makes him blush way too easy)

Commiserates in the summer and celebrates in the winter if you're not very tolerant to heat like him. Sometimes he talks about his family's trips to the north with a voice softer than usual, hinting just a little bit that he'd really love it if you came along one day.

Epel Felmier

He's also on the warmer side temperature wise, but he's small, so he ends up getting cold surprisingly easily.

At first he's a bit spooked with the touchyness, really just because it's his first relationship, but it grows on him. A lot.

Epel thinks him getting cold easy-ish is embarrassing, so he really feels like he won the lottery here. Now he gets to put his arm around your waist to stay warm and look cool with you by his side, boy's on top of the world.

Sebek Zigvolt

Runs very cold. The first time your hand is anywhere on him he jumps a bit. The situation's like the inverse of someone who gets startled by their friend's cold hands pressed to their neck.

He briefly questions if you're really human, stammering something about how only beastmen are so warm. He's too distracted by how nice your warmth feels to make much sense.

He's so easily flustered every time you get cuddly, but if he even tries to push you off (Which he mostly just does if you're in public) it comes out all feeble. Even if he's trying to keep up with etiquette and you two actually have to step away from each other, it's all over his face that he misses the coziness.

if you wanna support my work, you can buy me a ko-fi or commission me!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst headcanons #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #ace trappola x reader #deuce spade x reader #jack howl x reader #epel felmier x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #lis writing

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ive-been-timebombed · 2 months ago

Text

PART TWO

Jason’s tired. Dicks drugged. Danny talking bout hotdogs. Everyone’s confused

What in the floppy flippy fish sticks. Or was it Flippy Floppy fish sticks? I don’t know been to long since me and Wally got together and cursed at each other. Curse is a strong word.. it was more like tell each other the stupidest things that come to mind instead of cussing.

Back on track Jason was staring at the sparkly king dude. And sparkly king dude is staring back. Oh Batman I’m getting a cramp. Really hope Little Wing thinks of something. Im all out of ideas that aren’t dislocate my bones. And blue boy already thought of that and tied me up a bit more special.

Man. I hate bondage. My Dick hurts! And I’m Dick! So everything hurts!

_________________

Holy ancients, that’s my child. That’s baby JayJay. And he has a core. A dying core. I did that. I left him to stave..

“My king? Is something wrong?” Okay I’m grateful to you for bringing me here but shut up space man. Danny looked down to the summoner and with a flick of his wrist the man tumbled to the ground like a bag of bricks.

Danny floated up and flew to the edge of the summoning circle looking down to see what shields the summoner had put.. only there weren’t any and Danny concludes that they were a complete baboon.

Danny walked out the circle and to his child. His ectoplasm was rancid, old and stale. From his core trying to absorb ectoplasm without the ability to clean it.

Danny bent down in front of Jay, “Hello, Ghostling” Danny said in fake confidence.

________________

Jason was not panicking he would like to point that out. He was merely trying not to yell. Or scramble back away from the being. Who was just crouching down in front of him. The being put its hand on his shoulder. It was cold yet warm at the same time. Like how one would feel after getting out a cold refreshing pool into the warm air.

“Hello, Ghostling” The being spoke to him, it was comforting and softer then how he spoke to Wickham.

Ghostling? The fuck was a Ghostling? Why did he have to be a ling? He’d much rather be just a ghost. Not ghostLING. That makes him sound like a child. Which he was a few years older than that.

Then Jason’s body felt cold and lightless then the ropes on his arms were off and his arms are free. Jason immediately scrambled back bragging his older brother in the process not taking his eyes of the floating man as he untied the vigilante.

“Ow- cramp,” Dickhead groaned as rolled to the floor holding onto his foot. With his now free hands. “I hate being tied up, Little Wing- holy smokes you’re not human.” Dick had fixed his mask as it was slipped down from sweat earlier blinding him. His eyes focused on the being that had floated back looking between the two vigilantes.

“No I am not, mostly at least.” The being shrugged looking at the two with a sly smile like he knew something the other two did not.

“Mostly.?” Dick repeated in a mumble sitting up

“What the fuck are you? Why do you quiet the pits?” Jason spoke as he stood up dragging Nightwing up with him.

“The pits? What are the pits.?” The being spoke with a tilt of its head.

____________

What are the pits? Should Danny comfort him? Oh it was so much easier when the kid barely had the ability to think. He missed the baby Jay. Now it’s big Jay. He certainly took after his grandpa. Guess it skips a generation..

“The pits? What are the pits.?” Danny asked his kid tilting his head in confusion. The pits.. pits? Armpits? No doubt it’s that. Mud pits? Danny gave up on trying to guess whatever a pit was. He was more concerned at the stale ectoplasm in his son. Could he even call him that anymore.?

“The Lazarus Pits! The bright green liquid that was used to summon you!” Jay grew angry? He doesn’t feel that angry.. his core is panicking? Does this Lazarus Pits force emotions? Or amplify it?

“You mean ectoplasm?” Danny asked glancing over at the other vigilante other than his son. He didn’t have a core, so he was still alive and mortal. He did however look atrociously high. Or drugged.

“What- you mean that shit from ghostbusters?” Jay seemed to relax? Maybe Danny’s clean ectoplasm is filtering into his system.

“If I had a hotdog for every time I heard that sentence. I’d have enough to start a war with the vegetables.” Danny floated up into a sitting position crossing his ankles.

__________________

Man, I miss Wally. He’d pay attention to me.. but no. I’m here listening to sparkly king dude and my Little Wing talk about something I could barely make out. Hotdogs? I’m hungry.

“Hotdogs..? Ain’t the saying dollar? War- what are you talking about-“ Little Wing said from beside me. King sparkles was looking at me. King sparkles kinda reminds him of little Jay.

“I think your friend is drugged.. looks like a second away from passing out.” King sparkles gestured to me, then Jason looked at me.

I’m gonna throw up.. Is that bad?

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #ghost king danny #dad danny #Danny phantom #king sparkles #dick grayson #nightwing #red hood #ghost jason todd #more so ghostling then ghost but meh #had to type this with my phone to the table and tapping with one finger #my wrist hurts #dick hasn’t got a clue was happening #he only heard hotdogs and got hungry #being hungry reminded him of Wally #now he’s hungry and misses his friend

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plvybxi · 2 months ago

Text

baby

eren hated seeing you around campus. despised it. it made his stomach churn and his face would scrunch up. he was always being unreasonably harsh and cold toward you and it didnt make it any better that you would come around sometimes. it annoyed him so badly. armin would always bring his girlfriend with him whenever they hung out and of course you tagged along.

it was obvious that he wasnt fond of you and others noticed it too. they told you to brush it off and thats just how he is but you were so genuinely confused. you had never even had a clear conversation with the guy and he didnt like you?

it was odd but what were you going to do about it? definitely the least of your worries.

you mostly avoided each other anyway, but you had a few classes with him.

you walked out of class in front of eren and connie with your bsf and she suddenly decides to stop and start a conversation with connie about some party.

you glance over at eren and hes staring at you like he hates you. and he does. he hates your nose, your ears, your lips, your hands and how they hold your bottle, your eyes and how they shift across his whole body, he feels like hes gonna throw up.

his lip twitches and he taps connie on the arm

“im leaving. let me know when your coming back to my room.”

eren brushes past you like you werent even there.

you roll your eyes at how mannerless he is because what have you even done to him??

•••

what have you done to him?

eren is asking the same question. he rushes back to his room so fast hes almost out of breath. he shuts the door and locks it in a hurry before throwing this backpack on the ground. His hand flys to his dick and he cant hold it in anymore.

what. have. you. done. to. him?

hes so hot all over, his face from the neck down was so pink. he hurried and pulled at his dick to touch around himself. he was already so leaky and he really didnt know why.

he was so mad at you. mad that you were so annoying. mad that you didnt hate him back. mad that he cant stop thinking about you. mad that this isnt your hand on his dick right not. he lets out a saddened whine, his hips rutting up into his own hand as he feels betrayed by himself.

he cant help but think about you, you were just so pretty, and nice, and smart, and sweet. and he is always such an asshole to you.

he thinks back to earlier in desperate trace of his thoughts. your figure pops up and he gasps. your hands look so neat, he wants them all over him. everywhere. anywhere you want. the way your necklace sat just above your round tits had him squeezing his dick harder. that stupid sparkly belly button ring you had earlier ran circles around his mind.

this has been going on for 4 months now and eren literally doesnt know what to do. hes been trying his hardest to let this thing blow over but its killing him. he hates how bad he wants you. needs you.

hes remembers the smell of your perfume when he walked past you. his back arches and his eyes start to roll to the back of his head. you smell so good to him. so sweet. he just wants it all to stop.

even now he wants to stop but theres no way he can. hes so mad at himsel- no, you. he was mad at you. he runs his hand up his dick faster at the way your eyes scaned up and down his body earlier.

“f-fuck.. mmg, sh-…please“ he lets out in a cry. he doesnt want to keep doing this.

hes so so close, his head falls back as his jaw drops at the thought of you. mumbling little praises of your name.

but his heart drops immediately and he stops. he thinks he hears something down the hallway to his room. he hears connie and armin laughing loudly and he books it for the bathroom and shuts the door, rushing to turn the shower on. why did he forget armin and connie asked to hang today. do you see what you’re doing to him? his life had never been this difficult.

he heard his roommates open the door still being loud and rowdy.

“you in the shower eren?” connie yelled through the door

“yea i’ll be out in a second” eren yelled back

he felt so defeated so betrayed. his dick was so hard and you were the reason he even got in this situation

eren calmed down, showered and joined his friends in his room to end the rest of the day.

the next day rolls around and eren was so tired. he couldnt sleep and he was frustrated coming to class. he found himself losing focus from the professor a lot. looking over to roll his eyes when he sees your little spine tattoo creeping out from under the backside of your shirt.

he tried to ignore the zip of electricity that flew up his spine. he couldn’t wait for class to be over. could he leave early? hes going to leave early.

erens body moved before his mind worked and started to put his books away. you glanced up at him watching him ruffle around with his backpack before leaving out of the door.

connie looks over at you and your best friend and shrugs his shoulders at his friends attitude.

you shook your head, it was only like 20 minutes of class left

you turned your attention back towards you professor as he goes on and on about the upcoming test that going to be 45% of your grade.

he assigned “study partners” and tells the class that you would have to study with this person and turn in your notes in from over the past couple weeks to get 2 free A’s

you got partnered with eren.

your jaw dropped and you turned to your bsf to beg her to switch partners with you

“sorry y/n i dont think were allowed to” she said laughing at your irritation

“why him of all people he literally hates me” you said expressively while stuff your laptop away.

“well truly in my opinion, i think he likes you a little deep down. me and connie talk about it all the time. armin says he’s head over heels and doesnt know how to express it. if armin says that you gotta know its true” she said gloating about her boyfriend. you shove her and roll your eyes while she continues to laughs at you

you and armin are good friends, you introduced him to your best friend and he went crazy over her, you trust his words but theres no way.

erens mean, and rude, and mannerless, and cold. theres no way. right??

connie walks over to the two of you and all of you engage in a conversation.

“hey connie do you have erens number? i need to to tell him about us being partners and ask him when he wants to study.” you ask

“uh here, not sure if hes going to respond though. sometimes i dont even know if the dude remembers he has a phone” connie ridicules.

“thanks anyways” you say mentally sighing while they make you feel worse about the matter

they continue to conversate as you try texting eren. “hey eren its y/n. were study partners in class and we get 2 A’s for turning in our study papers over the few weeks. do you have time to study soon?”

he reads it

you wait, 2 minutes, 4 minutes, 8 minutes. what the hell? you turn to the long conversation with connie and shove your phone in both your friends face

“he literally left me on seen. and im just trying to get our work done whats up with him?” you say distraught

connie laughes. “hes never even seen my message that quick so be happy for that” they were both being so unserious about how rude he is and it makes your blood boil everytime

“any idea what i should do now?” you turn to ask him truly defeated

“honestly just go to his room. he’s probably not doing anything anyway” connie takes your hand and writes their room number down on it

“im gonna stay at sasha’s tonight she wants to do a movie marathon so call me if he starts getting out of hand” connie adds

you sigh and turn away from them to find their door

“good luckkkk” your bestfriend yells out.

you find his dorm relatively fast, its the same building as yours just a floor or two below where you are.

youre standing infront of their door truly just wanting to leave but the quicker you finish studying, the quicker you can leave him the hell alone.

you knock on the door and he opens it quickly

the door whips open and you get hit with a smell of very faint weed, fresh linen, laundry, and cologne

he was standing there towering over you with his hair in a messy bun and was wearing a white compression shirt with black sweats.

his green eyes narrow at realizing its you, his face still blank and you cant read it

“what?” he said running his hand over the top half of the door frame

he was so much taller than you

“did you see what i texted you, is it okay that im here” you ask looking deeply into his green eyes

“how did you know where my room was ?” he always sounds so upset with you”

“connie” you only say equally sounding upset

“i mean youre already standing in front of my door” he walks away from the door leaving it open and walking further into his room

your body flare with irritation and you step inside the cold room shutting the door behind you

he slumps down on the edge of his bed and you scan the room

its was surprisingly so… him. everything in the room fit him down to the random items that peered into his personality and the smell. you loved the smell. it said so much about him. he smells so clean but also mischievous

you walked over to his desk and sat at his chair

you start to take out your notepad and put your glasses on while you immediately start studying

eren wasnt dumb, not in the slightest. you had to correct him a few times which he obviously wouldnt appreciate but that’s apart of getting this shit done.

there was one formula eren just couldnt get through. it was dark outside at this point and the anger in erens body was rising

“no eren thats not right try again” you say calmy although this is the 4th times youve given him a example problem

“what are you even doing to get the right answer? the way you formatted it isnt even fucking right” eren spat out rude harsh insults through his frustration.

he cant focus and he doesnt know what to do. he cant think straight.

“i am doing it right eren doing fucking question me.” said getting angrier that he’s insulting your intelligence.

“ive been sitting here with you for 2 fucking hours trying to get through your shitty attitude because you don’t understand. im not your fucking tutor eren” you said in disbelief

hes gripping his pencil so hard. who do you think you are to talk to him like that? why are you even here right now? why are you dressed like that in his room, your tits are almost spilling out of your shirt and your thighs are squished together in his desk chair giving him so much to imagine

hes ignoring the burn he feels in his body, the ache he feels in his hips. if only you werent here right now.

you look up at his angry eyes. he looking down at you so intensely, hes so red and mad he looks like hes gonna explode

you sigh and scoot closer to him taking his dominant writing hand and holding it in yours and you talk him through the problem, guiding his hand to writing and solving the math problem

hes in disbelief, theres no way youre touching him. hes disgusted, his body isnt though, his dick aches, and his ears are filled with blood.

his hearing fuzzes as the sound of your voice runs through his head and down his spine while his eyes trickle down to your glossy lips, then your pretty collarbones, your tits, your thighs- on my fuck your thighs…

his breath hitches and hes never been this upset with someone. he pushed out of your touch and stands up looking at you like he wants to snap your neck.

you stand up and look at him confused.

“eren..”

“what the fuck is your problem y/n?”

“eren what are you even talking about? what the fuck is your problem eren?” you say getting just as mad and stepping closer to him

“you come in here unannounced without asking and trying to do fucking “work”. it’s noticeable youre always trying to be near me and its fucking exhausting. looking so go lucky when you come here claiming to “study” and you dont even know what youre doing. always coming when armin and his gf comes around to piss me off” eren yells at you with veins popping through his arms. he wants to scream hes so upset.

you genuinely cant believe him right now. what is he even saying?? is he really this entitled? this delusional? youre just as mad as him if not worse.

you step up to him making the gap between you both smaller.

“eren i dont know that the fuck is wrong with you but youre the biggest piece of shit i’ve ever met. youre rude and entitled and i’ve never had a single reason to care about you enough to want to piss you off. you act like a fucking child with your stupid ass attitude. my friend has a name. i have a name. fucking say it eren.” youre even closer to him now glaring up at his face. you can feel the heat radiating off each other from how mad you both are. his knees buckling from your insults and he doesnt know what to say back

he can smell your perfume, your minty breathe, your oh so pretty eyes and lips, and how your eyebrows narrow up at him with disgust and infuriation.

his breath is laboring but you dont stop. “i cant fucking wrap my head around how shitty you are unprovoked. i cant stand be around you either because you act like such a fucking baby. are you a fucking baby eren? do you want me to treat you like one?” you ask head tilted to really get your point across and stare into his green ones. you were so fed up.

you wait on his response but he just keeps staring at you feeling contradicted.

“fucking answer me eren”

he cracks before you can even finish his name

“just fucking-“ his hands raised to both your checks and he slams your face into his. its damn near bruising.

youre so surprised and you pull back with a stumble

you look at him appalled and hes breathing so hard. hes scared of you, terrified of your response. why did he do that? WHY did he do that?

hes sure you’re going to leave after that. you step forward towards him and he feels like hes gonna faint.

you watch his eyes drop down to your glossy lips. you smirk at him and grab him by the jaw. his lips part slightly just sitting in your hand you analyze his whole face, his long pretty lashes his faint freckles, and his pink plump lips that are just a tad but dry. he just so thirsty for you. hes been thirsty for the longest.

you let your hand trail around his jaw to the little hairs on the back neck and his eyes flutter while he takes a deep breathe in, inhaling how good you smell

he instinctively leans closer to you just slightly, so desperate he doesnt even know his muscles could move in their own.

his hands are ghosting your hands, he wants to pull you in so bad but hes scared. so embarrassed.

“is that what is is? you want to be treating like a baby?” you ask him, so softly like always. youre always so soft to him. he nods barley enough to fully admit it.

“but youre so mean you know that eren? you hurt my feelings so bad” you coo so closely to his face he can feel your breath on his lips.

his eyes flutter open to meet yours. your pretty minks blinking so seductively at him. it makes him feel small. “y/n” he whispers and leans in a little, his hands brushing against yours now

“wanna make it up to me?” is the last thing you say before he cant take it anymore and is kissing you with so much egar that you falter again.

he cant help it. he so badly wants to make it up to you. he wants to show you he can do it. he kisses you so needily you can barley keep up. he rest both his hands on the small of your back trying to resist sending his hands lower. you hum into the kiss and his dick twitches in his pants

your hands make way to his biceps and he relishes in how small your hand is compared to him. youre so much softer than he is. he feels like hes gonna die. your lips are so soft and pillowy he doesnt want to stop kissing you. ever. he his whole body is basically climbing on top of you.

your head is craned up to devour all of his kisses. your hand finds his abs and hes so sensitive for you. you let your hand softly trickle around the expand of his abs through his shirt and he cant help but to tense his body. his lips ghosts over yours as you start to feels how built he is.

“you were hiding all this from me when you couldve just asked” you say against his lips. his eyes are closed and hes lost in this thoughts. everything you say has him in a frenzy. he sends a low whine from his parted lips against yours and you back him up to lean him against his bathroom door.

you look at his face from the window light and you didnt realize how pink he is all over. his whole body is blushed.

his tip is sending precum all over his boxers hearing you talk to him. his eyes opened and his back arched up into yours a little when he felt your hand go under his shirt and touch his abs.

he was panting and he couldnt help it. you were scared he was gonna pass out. he was scared he was going to pass out.

he felt your fingertips run from his v-line through his abs up to his very sensative chest. he couldnt help but pull yiu into him more.

he had no space to move. he was wedged between the door and his whole world. you.

you could feel how hard he was through his sweats. his body was so pretty. he was so pretty.

he couldnt get anything out but your name. hes gasping your name and bucking up at the same time.

why does he feel so sensitive with you hes never felt this way with any other girl. and a lot of girls know eren.

but theres always been this lingering attraction to you. and he hated it. or did he? his body couldnt hold it anymore up to about 4 months ago.

your lips found their way to his neck and your hand moves further and further down until your at the drawstring of his sweats. his jaw drops wide at the anticipation.

his head falls back against the door and he cant get anything out.

your tongue is so warm and the way you suck right against the pressure point boiling on his neck has him thinking youre a witch.

you have his body so trained for without ever having knowing it.

you slowly move your hand down his sweats to feel him in his boxers

hes so strained and you can feel how hes excessively leaking into own underwear.

you press your finger to his wet tip and he lets out a heavy moan while pressing himself future into you.

“ffuck… shit, wait, please” he voices breathly.

you experiment a little and you run your hand down a tad bit to rub the nervy spot just underneath his mushroom tip and his back is arching involuntarily

“oh right here hm?” you hum

his brow furrows into pleasure as he nods to your question

your lips raise from his neck to kiss along his jaw line. you pull his jaw down again to join your lips together and he hates how obedient he is to you

“y/n, please” he tried to whisper but it came out strained.

“oh hush” you kissed him again and hes mewling into your mouth

his whole body tensed and he grips you harder, grabbing at your ass and truly struggling to kiss you back now.

“o-oh fuck-.. y/n i need…” he cant finish his thoughts

“what do you need baby?”

baby. you called him baby. in that sweet voice. he feels your other hand grip the small roots of his hair slightly and his eyes roll back.

he cant hold it anymore.

his shaky hands grabs the one down his pants and shoves it to touch the bare skin on his dick. youre shocked upon feeling how much precum he had in his underwear. he moans as you felt him rolling his body into yours trying to catch your lips onto his. he was panting so bad, eyes rolling.

“breathe baby” you said close to his ear

2.5 seconds later he was cumming all over your hand. you kissed his face to bring him down from his high, which that only made his orgasm longer. he opened his eyes and looked at you.

how he looked at you now was way different from how he normally looked at you

there were hearts in his eyes and he was still holding your hand so tight.

an idea popped up into your head and you internally smiled.

you pulled your hand out of his pants and stepped away from eren in whole. his body chased yours and walked forward with you.

“w-where are you going” he said worried

you said nothing but walked over to his laundry and wiped your hand on his shirts from the basket

you gathered your things and eren rushed to your side

“y-y/n….” he said in a trailed off voice. he wanted you to stay. do you know hes sorry for how he acted? where are you going? why are you leaving him? he needs you.

“the test is next month. you need to study that problem without me too so you know how to use that formula.” you said nonchalantly. hes so confused. fuck the formula. you are all he wants. he wants you to teach it to him. youre so smart. smarter than him. youre the only way he’ll understand it. he cant learn it by himself.

“w-well were studying tomorrow again too… right?” eren asks with pleading eyes. he doesn’t understand. he wants you to say yes so bad, he wants to see you again

“uh i dont know eren i have a few guys from the football team that asked me to study with them. maybe after this weekend, k?” you continue putting your things away.

hes staring at you trying to get your eyes to connect with his. he just wants some attention, just wants you too look at him and feel bad for the state hes in. but you never look back at him. why wont you look at him? its frustrating him and he wants to cry

“im gonna leave my part of the notes for this formula here so you can go over it okay?” youre talking like nothing happened. as if you arent breaking his heart right now.

you study with other guys? football guys? guys with an s? how many guys? he feels his heart dropping by the second.

“bye eren” you say with that pretty smile. youre out of his dorm so quickly. so quickly your scent is still lingering around his room. he feels so dizzy. he walks over to your notes on his desk. your pretty, neat handwriting and your cute highlighted math formulas. his head is swimming with you.

he tries to think of what to do now. he cant figure it out, he feels how sticky his underwear feels and embarrassingly sheds out of them.

he changes his underwear and crawls into his bed. he picks his phone up and changes your number to your name. he texts you “let me know when youre free.” you look at it and dont reply. he feels his heart wrench.

hes never saved a girls contact in his phone. he scrolls over to instagram and searches your name. he follows you.

the next day in class eren cant help but to sneak looks at you. even connie notices and asks him whats up.

eren brushes his friend off and tries to look forward at his professor.

he sees you more around campus with so many other guys, you still havent texted him back, acknowledged him, nothing.

when you two are standing near each other he feels so small under your gaze.

its been 3 days and its hurting him to breathe at this point.

until, tuesday night you text him and his heart almost jumps out of his body.

“what are you doing tonight?”

#eren aot #sub eren #eren yeager #eren jaeger #attack on titan #aot #eren x reader #eren smut #eren jeager x reader #connie springer #sub male character #angst #eren x you #fem reader #Spotify

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softspiderling · 4 months ago

Text

illicit affairs - part seven | r.c

summary:

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

OR; You deal with an intruder, lose your temper and Rafe and you take a shower.

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: SMUT! 18+ only! (oral male/female receiving)

word count: 2,6k

author's note: long awaited im guessing HAHAHAH i hope you have survived so far. finally introducing the third character of this series.... you all know him. as usual, happy reading and i look forward to hearing about your thoughts <3

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pt. seven: "tell yourself you can always stop"

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The “intruder” was standing shock still, the two of you staring at each other. You didn’t think that was going to hurt you or anything, but the rollling pin was still raised in the air, ready to strike any second. While you didn’t necessarily share the disdain for pogues as your friends did, it didn’t mean that you trusted him. He broke into your house after all.

JJ Maybank, possibly the definition of a pogue, was standing in your hallway, hands raised in defense as he eyed the rolling pin in your hand. He looked almost bored.

“I said, what the fuck are you doing?” you repeated, your voice strained.

“Uh, standing. What are you doing, princess?”

You let the nickname slide, glaring at him.

“Defending myself against an intruder.”

“Intruder?

JJ barked out a laugh, his hands clutching his stomach like he just heard the funniest joke in his life, though he quickly raised his hands again when you pointed the rolling pin closer at his face.

“You just broke into to my house, what are you if not an intruder?” you asked, affronted.

“I didn’t break in on purpose!”

“Oh, so you just accidentally broke into my house??”

“Hey, to be fair, you left the door unlocked.”

“Are you blaming the victim right now?”

JJ bit back a grin, his hand slowly reaching out to lower the rolling pin. You let him, but remained wary, your arms dropping to your sides.

“What are you doing here JJ?”

JJ took off his cap, running his hand through his messy hair once before putting his cap back on.

You tried to ignore that you thought he was hot.

“I was coming out of Ruby’s and trying not to be seen by anyone, thought I could hide out here for a bit,” he explained and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ruby Evans? She has a boyfriend.”

“Yeah well that would’ve been good to know before I hooked up with her and almost got caught by said boyfriend.”

You rolled your eyes at him. Figured JJ would be caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Obviously you knew JJ, but only really on the surface. You didn’t exactly run in the same circles. But you knew that Rafe didn’t really like him, neither did Topper, but mostly because JJ was John B’s best friend. Kelce didn’t really have much of an opinion except for the fact that he thought JJ was hot, so that was that. What you did know, however, was that JJ shared the same disdain for kooks that Rafe did for pogues, so to catch JJ on the other side of the island was newsworthy.

“I’m surprised you’d get caught up with Ruby,” you said. “I thought you hated kooks.”

JJ merely shrugged, grinning at you.

“Why deprave the female population of the other side of the island of an experience with me only because of something they can’t change?”

You snorted, biting back a laugh because you knew that if he thought you thought he was funny, it was over for you. JJ took the moment to let his eyes wander over you, and you stopped yourself from wrapping the linen shirt around your exposed body. This was your house and you weren’t gonna let someone else make you feel uncomfortable. Much less a guy.

“Had a pool party?”

“Something like that,” you replied, meeting JJ’s gaze straight on. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his boyish grin growing.

“Should I take it personally that I wasn’t invited?”

You gave him a look and JJ winked at you, before his face lit up, like he remembered something.

“Hey, your parents are organizing the spring fling, right?”

“Yes, why?” You asked back, suspicious.

“Well, I was wondering if you could do me a favor…” He started, rubbing the back of his neck. “I need some money to fix up my bike, and the country club always pays well. But the hostess kind of hates my guts, so she’d never hire me if I applied for the job. You think you could put in a good word for me?”

It was odd how JJ was able to switch from sarcastic to bashful the minute he needed something from you. You had heard from other girls that he was something of a womanizer, and the fact that he just came out of Ruby’s house just proved the point. So you tried not to put much worth on the grin he was giving you.

Most people would probably call it charming. You weren’t most people.

“… I’ll see what I can do.”

“Cool,” JJ said, honest to god pointing finger guns at you. This guy was unreal. He turned to leave the way he entered - through the patio door - but before he shut the door, he looked back to you, one foot already out of the house. “You’re not so bad for a kook, princess.”

JJ slipped through the small gap, closing the sliding door behind him. With a deep sigh, you locked the door, pulling down the blinds for good measure before you headed back to the kitchen. You put the rolling pin back in its place, shutting the dishwasher before switching it on, trying to act like that just didn’t happen.

Turning off all the lights downstairs, you headed towards the hallway, preparing to go to bed when two short raps came on the front door before it opened, as Rafe let himself in like he had been invited over. For some reason, it made you mad. You let out a sigh as you took him in and he raised a brow at you.

“You really need to lock the doors when you’re home alone precious,” Rafe commented and you snorted under your breath.

“Tell me about it.”

He shut the door behind him, locking it and you freed your hair from the claw clip, shaking your head out, feeling a migraine coming on.

“Did you really clean up the mess in the kitchen by yourself?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

“I would’ve helped you,” Rafe pointed out, annoyed.

“Well, you didn’t exactly tell me that you were staying over,” you retorted, just as annoyed. “Or that you were coming back.”

“Why are you being an asshole?”

Rafe’s irritation was evident in his voice and you let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry Rafe. I’m just tired, okay?” You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling your shoulders slump a little. “If you came to fuck I don’t think I’m really in the mood today, so you can just leave. I’ll just take a shower and go to bed.”

You didn’t wait for an answer and turned to walk into your bedroom upstairs, heading straight to the bathroom. As you stripped down, throwing you bikini and the overshirt in the hamper, you thought you heard the front door shut. You tried not to let the angry tears in your eyes fall as you stepped into the shower, instead, you turned the water on, letting it drench your whole head. Fucker, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t believe that he’d just leave like that. Before all of this, he never would’ve just left.

Then again, you wouldn’t be in this situation either. Was this how it was going to be from now on?

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts, you didn’t even heat the door to the bathroom clink open. Only when the glass door of your shower squeaked, you were made aware of Rafe’s presence as he stepped inside. You really had to work on your spatial awareness. He stepped under the shower stream, the water immediately soaking him up, your eyebrows shot up in surprise and Rafe gave you a displeased look, pressing himself against your backside.

You kept quiet for a few seconds, the knot in your chest unfurling slightly, and you found yourself leaning against him.

“I thought you left.”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

Rafe’s voice was quiet as he murmured into your ear, his hand coming up behind you to cup around your breast. You bit back a sarcastic reply, because surely this wasn’t something a best friend would do.

“I wouldn’t just leave when I know you’re upset about something, you think you’re just a piece of ass to me?”

“I don’t know what we are these days,” you muttered, half hoping that Rafe didn’t hear you, but based on the way his hand clenched around your waist, he did hear. He turned you around in his arms, frowning down at you.

“Precious,” Rafe said, his voice tight. “You’re my best friend. Yes, the sex is fucking great, but it’s not worth losing you over. If you’re starting to question our friendship, we shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”

The shower was still raining down on you, and if the both of you weren’t buck ass naked as the day you were born, this would probably be incredibly romantic and you’d consider just spilling your guts to him. You exhaled deeply, blinking the water drops out of your lashes, trying to clear your head. What Rafe said made sense. But were you ready to give up more of him, just because you couldn’t keep your feelings in check?

“So? Are we putting a stop to this?”

Rafe took a step back. It was small, he barely moved, but to you it felt like a mile. You couldn’t go back to just being only his best friend, so before he could move away even further, you reached out to pull him back in, leaning on your tiptoes to kiss him. Rafe grunted into the kiss, seemingly hesitant for a second before he all but melted into you, his hand wrapping around your hair to tilt your head further up. You lost yourself in the kiss for a second, your hands intertwining on the nape of his neck before you pulled away when it got too heated.

“I’m too tired for sex,” you said, though you couldn’t deny the warmth unfurling between your legs.

Rafe eyed you for a second, before he nodded, turning you in his arms again, his chest against your back.

“Let me take care of you.“

With a flick of his wrist, he turned the water off, before he ran his hand down your waist, fingers slipping between your thighs. Your breath hitched, pressing further into him.

“Rafe.”

“Relax,” he murmured into the skin of your neck, tongue lapping up the water droplets that clung to your shoulder. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

His hand ventured further down, one finger dipping into the warmth of your folds and you let out a soft sigh, the stress leaving your body. You had half a mind to tell him to stop, you you found yourself saying nothing. Your hand wrapped around his bicep, searching for something to hold onto while the pad of his thumb stroked circles over your most sensitive little spot of nerves, having you moan out his name.

“That’s it,” Rafe said, leaning further down so he could slip his finger into your cunt, your gummy walls opening up to his digits, your knees growing weak. Both of you were still wet from the interrupted shower, and you should’ve been long cold by now, but all you felt was Rafe’s warm body pressed up against you and the heat coiling in your lower stomach. Rafe’s movements weren’t fast paced, but he applied pressure in just the right places, you felt your orgasm coming in no time.

“Shit,” you gasped, laying your head against his chest, catching Rafe’s eyes on you, seeing a hunger in his eyes you couldn’t quite place, but before you could question it, he kissed you, stealing your breath away. The kiss was the last thing that threw you over the edge and with a small, breathy moan you came apart on Rafe’s fingers, clinging onto him for dear life. As you caught your breath, Rafe placed his hands on your waist, steadying you.

“You good?”

You let out a grunt, squeezing his wrist. “You know the shower is one of the most dangerous places to have sex in?”

“… That doesn’t sound right.”

“Shut up,” you huffed, taking your hands off of Rafe, testing your footing, before you turned, getting on your knees.

“Hey, you don’t have to do this.”

“Didn’t I just tell you to shut up?” you asked back, wrapping your hand around his cock and Rafe let out a moan, carding his fingers through your hair. “Your dick has been pressed into my back for the past 15 minutes, let me suck you off.”

“If you insist.”

Rolling your eyes wordlessly, you pumped his cock for a but, before licking a strip along his shaft, making Rafe curse above you. You only smirked to yourself, before you wrapped your lips around his cock, knowing that was all he wanted right now.

“Fuck,” Rafe hissed, his grip on your hair tightening, thought you didn’t mind, your focus solely on sucking the life out of him. Your tongue was pressing against the small slit on his tip as you moved your mouth along the length of his cock, hand still wrapped around his lower base, where you couldn’t quite reach. You weren’t a beginner when it came to cock sucking, but you weren’t a professional either. It was safe to say that Rafe was pretty content with your skills though.

Hollowing out your cheeks, you took in as much of his cock as possible, continuing to suck on him, a mixture of saliva and Rafe’s precum smearing around the edges of your mouth, making a whole mess in your face, though you continued unperturbed.

“Shit, you really give the best head prec-”

Your nails dug into his thighs, and he cut off, replacing your nickname with your real name, and you eased off his thigh, sighing softly as the head of his cock brushed against the back of your throat, hoping it wouldn’t bruise again. It didn’t take long until Rafe slowly started thrusting into your mouth, his hips stuttering that you knew he was close.

“I’m about to come,” he warned you, his voice hoarse and the grip on your hair less hard. You only let out a hum of acknowledgement, not lessening your movement until Rafe spurted his cum down your throat, groaning out your name. You took your mouth off his cock, having swallowed his bitter cum and wiped your mouth, satiated.

Meanwhile, Rafe was leaning on the shower wall, gently extricating his hand out of your wet hair, heaving breaths.

“You’re a minx,” he told you, pulling you up for a quick kiss. You only grinned against his lips, swatting at his bare chest. Nipping on your lower lip, Rafe reached behind you to turn the shower back on, to finally finish what you had come here for in the first place. Together, you showered quickly and thoroughly and as Rafe washed the soapy suds off of you, hands all over your body, it felt intimate but not in a sexual way. You tried not to think about it too much.

When the both of you were done, hands all prune-y, you exited the shower, wrapping yourself in a robe and handing a towel to Rafe so he could dry off. You did a quick run through of your nighttime routine, while Rafe watched bemusedly as he brushed his teeth, but didn’t comment on it. When you were both done, crawling into bed, your hair still damp, you settled into your side of the bed (which was a wild statement in itself, as Rafe turned off the light in the bedroom, before getting in bed on the other side. You were content to fall asleep, safe and soundly tucked in, when Rafe reached under the blankets to pull you close against his chest, tucking his chin into the crook of your neck.

Your cheeks heated, and you side eyed Rafe as he got comfortable in bed, your shoulders tense.

“I meant what I said,” he then muttered, arms wrapped around your waist. “If you ever feel like our friendship is changing or this makes me feel like you can’t trust me, you gotta tell me precious. I don’t want to lose my best friend.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you mumbled, laying a hand on his, trying to reassure him, even though your heart was racing a mile a minute. Rafe didn’t reply, and before long, his breath evened out, but you were still wide awake.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author's note: okay real talk, how many of you guessed who the intruder was???

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fic #drew starkey #outer banks #obx

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minimoxha · 8 months ago

Text

You’re mine. (Drabble.)

summary: (I can’t remember who requested this im working through my inbox!) When you and your sugar daddy, Sakuna get into an argument over you and your ‘infidelity’ you just can’t seem to keep your mouth shut. that calls for punishment.

Pairing: young, Sugar daddy!Sakuna, Sugarbaby!Reader.

“All you do is use my money and you think I won’t fuck you?” Sakuna moans, giving rough thrusts into your hips. He had been talking like this for a while. Repeating how useless you were, how he hated gold diggers like you, the whole nine yards over an argument where the both of you (mostly you) just couldn’t seem to find the wrong in your argument. It started off with you saying how you were still fucking other people because he doesn’t own you. From there, a lot of the moment was just smoke that ended or well is ending in him taking *his pussy like he’s never fucked before.

This was currently your second time cumming and not your last. “Kuna’ ‘m so sorry. Stop- please-“ You moaned, trying your best to move away from the man but he grabbed your hips every time and pulled you back to getting split on his cock. “Please-“ ‘Kuna was too dam focused on the rutting of his hips to even pay attention to your useless moaning like a fucking slut.

“You get a fucking allowance, an apartment, a car, a damn mutt, and you still aren’t- ngh- grateful for what I fucking do for you?” He asks, which is more of a moaning shout as he thrusts again and again into your cunt. Other than his curses, you could hear and feel your juices getting blended around in your pussy. “You’re fucking other dudes as if my cock doesn’t satisfy you enough!”

“Maybe you don’t- oh fuck baby more.” You moaned, trying to get more of his thrusts, the overstimulated feeling now changed with pleasure as yet another orgasm was ripping through your core. Until he pulled out…

Dazed, you turned to look at the demon; eyes as big as saucers. “Wh-Why’d you stop?” Sakuna stared at you with an unreadable face. Instead of answering your lust driven question he grabbed you by your hair, forcing you off the bed and to your knees. You wince in pain.

“You think you can just disrespect me in my own fucking home? Then you won’t cum again until you realize that you’re mine for the rest of fucking eternity.” He screamed as he dragged you into your designated ‘play room’ with a rough hand. “I’ll show you and that fucker you fucked who the fuck i am, bitch.”

not proofread.

Hi! i hope you just enjoyed and if you did you can request more in my asks. I answer all of them and love to have more ideas for what to write. Make sure to eat two meals and drink water!

#fanfic #xreader #minimoxha #black!reader #anime #jjk sakuna #sakuna ryomen #sakuna x reader #sakunasmut #sakunaryomenxreader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustsu kaisen smut #jujusu kaisen #jujusu

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bloodibambiidoll · 5 months ago

Note

Congratulations on 1.6k WIFEY 🩷🎀💋

🐇 Eddie spaghetti, reader says “I never meant to fall in love with you… I just did.” Ball worship… you know😉😏 😌

Eeee tysm baby girl!! I love you!! IM KISSING U RN!!🖤😚 This low key got away from me and isn’t a blurb but I was possessed by his balls.😩

This is for my 1.6k celebration✨

Warnings: Ball worship, pet names, past enemies to lovers, slight hair pulling, established relationship, fluff. 18+MDNI!1.3k

You’re laying in Eddie’s lap on the couch as random horror reruns flash across the tv screen. He’s very invested in the plot of sleepaway camp, giving you random eddie esc commentary here and there. But you can hardly focus on what he’s saying with the way his large ringed fingers scratch your scalp and run down your arm, the calloused tips finding their way under your shirt to stroke the stoke the skin on your hip. Especially since your cheek rested against his mostly soft cock (he could get hard at a moments notice with you around) and all he’s wearing is those flimsy little plaid pajama pants so you can smell his musk.

All you can think about is pulling his pants down so you can lean over and shove your face directly in his balls. His balls. That feel so fucking perfect when you wrap your lips around them and swirl your tongue. His balls that are just so sensitive and the minute you give them any attention he’s a whiney whimpering mess for you. There was just something about Eddie Munson’s balls that drove you insane. Maybe it was the way they hung perfectly nestled behind his thick cock. Or that cute little peach fuzz that they were covered in. It definitely has something to do with the way they tighten up when he cums, practically emptying before your eyes. Ultimately it probably boils down to just how much you love the man they were attached to, and how badly you want to worship every inch of him.

Which is funny considering all the time you spent hating him growing up. But when you ran into him in the city six years after high school he inevitably charmed his way into your heart. If told your high school self you’d be lying in Eddie Munson’s lap, daydreaming about his balls she would’ve laughed in your face. But alas, here you are, staring down at his crotch with heart eyes.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you… I just did…” You sigh dreamily, bringing your hand up to rest at the crook of his thigh as your nuzzle your cheek against his cock.

“Aw baby, I love you so much I -“ his sentence is cut short when your hand travels from his thigh to cup his balls as you continue to rub your face against him. “Wait… are you talking to my cock right now?”

“Uh-uh, not your cock…” You hum as you start to gently roll his sack in your palm.

“Princess.” He chuckles, cupping your face in his hand to get you to look up at him. It takes everything in you to stop staring at the cloth of his pajamas like you’re suddenly going to gain x-ray vision. “Are you talking to my balls? Did you just profess your love to my nutsack?”

“Mhm.” You hum as you continue to knead his heavy balls through that god forsaken fabric. “They’re just so nice.”

“Yeah?” His gaze softens as he looks down at you. “What’s so great about them, huh?”

“I could tell you… but I think it would be more fun if I just showed you instead.” You flip your body towards him before running your hand across his bare abdomen, making sure to stop to stroke that little thatch of hair under his belly button. You lean forward and place an open mouthed kiss on the tattoo on his chest as your hand travels down into his pants. You take his shaft in your hand, pumping him a few times, you run your thumb along the tip, smearing the precum that gathered there.

“Oh fuuuck, sweetheart.” Eddie groans as he throws his head back. One of his large hands grips onto your hip your while the other finds purchase in his messy mane.

“Mmm wanna make you feel so good, Eddie baby.” You kiss along his chest and down his abdomen as your hand descends lower, cupping his balls again. You massage them in your palm, squeezing them lightly, running the tips of your fingers along the silky sensitive skin. You push yourself up slightly so you can latch your lips onto his, capturing them in a desperate kiss. He moans against your mouth and runs his tongue along your bottom lip, you separate your lips enough for him to slip in and intertwine your tongues.

You continue to make out as you rub him with your hand until you can’t take it anymore, you need to get your mouth on him. You push yourself off the couch onto your knees and grab onto the waistband of those god damn pants, pulling them down and off his ankles. Your eyes hone in on his hard cock and drink in his sack before traveling all over naked his form.

“So pretty, you’re so pretty Eddie.” You run your hands along his muscular thighs, the feeling of the course hairs there sending chills through your body. You kiss up each one of his legs, leaving little nips and flicks of your tongue along the way.

“Fuuuuck, baby doll, that feels so nice.” Eddie groans, one of his hands snaking around to gently cup the back of your head as he looks down at slack jawed and wide eyed like you hung the stars. You hold eye contact with him and you spit on your palm as you take his sack in your now lubed up hand. You fondle him for a moment before leaning down to lightly suck one of his balls into your mouth as you swirl your tongue around the velvety skin. You grab grabs onto his cock with one hand and begin to pump him while the other runs up and down his chest, lightly scratching him with your nails.

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s so fucking good.” Eddie’s moans, the hold on your head tightening slightly as his fingers start to grab onto your hair. You run your tongue along his sack, making sure to give each side equal attention, running your tongue along each and every inch of them.

“Just love your balls so much, love all of you so much. You smell so good. Wanna make you cum.” You’re practically rambling, drunk off the pleasure you’re giving him. You suck his other ball between your lips, giving it the same treatment. Swirling your tongue, varying between gentle and slightly harder sucking motions. Your hand continues to pump his shaft, your thumb coming up to rub along his slit every once in a while.

“Oh god - oh fuck - baby, you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” Eddie’s hips buck slightly as he tugs on your hair, the sexiest moans and whimpers you’ve ever heard leaving his lips.

“Yes, please give it to me.” You practically whine as you pull off of him, looking at him with your mouth and chin covered in drool and he swears he could probably just cum right fucking now. “Wanna feel your balls twitch between my lips when you cum.”

“Holyfuckingshit. Baby, fuck, you’re so hot, oh fuuuuck -“ Eddie throws his head back when you lean down to take his whole sack in your mouth, sucking on him like a god damn succubus. Your strokes on his cock never let up as you continue to practically devour his balls. When your grip on his shaft tightens slightly just as you run your tongue right across the crease of his sack it sends him over the edge.

“Oh shit, I’m fucking cumming, I’m cumming fuck.” Eddie’s thighs tremble as his cock twitches in your hand and you feel his balls tighten against your tongue. You don’t stop until you feel him start to practically go limp under you. You pull off of him, resting your cheek on his thigh as you gaze up at him.

“Shit Teddie, that was so fucking hot, you’re so hot. I wish I did that sooner.” You giggle as you nuzzle into his fuzzy leg.

“Psh! I was hot!? You practically just started a religion in my balls’ name and you’re calling me hot? You’re something else, sweetheart.” He chuckles as he cups your jaw, running his thumb along the apple of your cheek. “You know, ball jokes aside, I never thought I’d fall in love with you… but I’m really fucking glad I did.”

#Dolly’s 1.6k celebration #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader

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bugflies00 · 9 days ago

Note

sorry this is referencing a few month old post/s you made about the dream situation and a question you’d asked about dream stans, you can delete this msg if you want since it’s not as relevant anymore. Again I’m sorry if this is weird or you don’t gaf (that’s fair bc who does lol)

TW for grooming and dream being fucking gross. You can just scroll fast and delete if you don’t want to read or deal with this, I understand that

To preface Im about Tommy’s age now, when I was 15-17, used to be a huge dream stan, and I was very vocal about defending him online. —I was extremely parasocial and weird, and looking back on it I really regret how I acted.

So. Idk how much people who weren’t stans of his saw, but dream- as stupid as it sounds- was our friend.

He had bath calls with us, sleep calls with us, he told us in depth about his personal life and his health issues and his trauma and his moods and his habits and just basically everything. Most of his interactions with us was through his discord, and then someone in the fandom would stream his discord calls for people who weren’t there. A running joke was that dream had a parasocial relationship with us. there was absolutely no gap between creator and fan, he followed me more than once, he brought fans onto his discord streams and talked with them and he knew a good amount of us by name. He called us cute and talked about how much we all (as individuals) meant to him,

when drama happened he’d usually either do a space/call or go on his private and vent to us, there were I think two separate times he’d have full panic attacks over drama happening, and we’d have to talk him down. He also would, when responding to callouts or accusations, use arguments that his fans were making.

He did this during almost all his pitfalls, including the grooming allegations, his wording was often taken word for word from tweets by people I was friends with. I dropped him after the initial allegations, but for a while after i still checked in bc i was really hoping he’d be innocent (he wasn’t) and i can confirm he still does this. He also regularly dmed his fans, mostly his black fans, to ask for “help” on being less racist.

I don’t use the word “grooming” lightly, but dream was and is absolutely grooming his audience. Thats why dream stans seem so cult-like these days. The amount of guiltripping, lying, forcing an us vs them mentality, and manipulation I saw this man pull was actually sick. He’d frequently, privately, to us, vent about tommy or quackity, and about how “all his friends hated him” and “we were all he had left” (legit, not joking). He is extremely good at emotional blackmail, he is good at making his fans hate other creators and turn on them, he is very good at utilizing his tears and using wording that he knows will make his mostly teenage fanbase think he’s a good kind person.

He wants to impress on his fans that he really was just a kind person, the only kind person and the only voice of reason. That’s why when the Cantu thing happened, he started posting “messages” of him being so kind to the Uber driver. He needs his fans to think he’s a kind and loving person, and that Tommy and quackity and literally everyone who’s pulled away from him was just a fake friend who couldn’t be trusted. He somehow was always, always the one being fucked over.

I remember when I told my friend about dream (this friend had a completely neutral opinion on him and barely knew the guy beyond his manhunts) and he told me that sounded like grooming.

He gradually isolated his (primarily young, female) fanbase using private accounts, discord calls, Snapchat, and whatever else. He got extremely personal with us far beyond the level any creator should be, he used kindness and flattery (like calling us “mature”. Also legit) to make us feel genuinely loved by him, again, NOT in the way a creator loves their fans. In the way a friend loves their friends, even in the way a partner loves their partner. He lashed out at us and had panic attacks when we did criticize him, he used tactics to make us think he was always right and good, and more than that, make all his detractors seem like terrible people out to get him AND us, he played himself out to be the perpetual victim and used carefully cut clips and emotional manipulation (like how he brought up his ~poor innocent family~ when harassing quackity. Weaponizing trauma like that was something he did ALL THE TIME to us whenever he was criticized.) in order to use us against people he didn’t like, making us take the bullet for him.

He uses his kindness and supposed goodness as a weapon, he used Tommy’s own trauma around doxxing against him when Tommy dared to criticize him (“I supported you when you were getting doxxed, yet you won’t do the same for me?”)

He used trauma to relate to his audience, making us feel like he was the only person who got it.

It’ll sound stupid, but it was genuinely really scarring. The way he made me and my friends feel was so confusing. I often found myself feeling used and violated, but also like I was in debt to him. I dreaded when he’d have fans on call, I dreaded him but also he felt like all I had. The tone of him and the fandom was that “we have to defend him at all costs, they’re out to get him and we’re the last line of support he has”. It was embarrassing, it was stressful, it was horrible. I wasted so much fucking time and energy on him.

it was really traumatic and distressing, especially as a teenager who’d already been at a vulnerable point and used him as an escape originally. I know that sounds melodramatic but I mean it.

He is a groomer through and through. He’s barely getting any new fans, but he’s barely losing any either bc the grasp he has on them is so tight.

Worst of all, if you leave the fandom, you’ll lose your friends and become an enemy. He encourages that behaviour and that mentality. He encourages harassment of his ex-friends, he encourages harassment of anyone who doesn’t like him. He wants you to feel like he’s the only good person, and like he’s the only one who will care about you. And I know at least in my experience that the way I acted when I was a fan of his did genuinely cause me to feel alienated in my social life. I lost friends, I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone “safely”. That’s how he wants his fans to feel, because at some point he really is all you have.

And that’s why dream stans are still sticking around. It’s at the point where the only way they’ll leave is on their own volition, and the more publicly fucked shit he does, the less hope I have that they’ll do that.

i don’t have much to add but i agree, and several people i know who used to be big dream fans also agreed that there was a heavily insidious ‘us vs them’ atmosphere

#alex.rambles.txt #alex.asks.txt #sorry you went through that btw it sounds really shit #i think a lot of (especially younger) dream stans are in similar positions sometimes #ofc some of tjem are just normal people who just Don’t care about the reprehensible shit #but i think for a lot of people its escapism just like the rest of this community. and the entresoi aspect makes it even more alienating #mcyt #discourse #tw grooming #dream situation

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toxic3mmy · 6 months ago

Note

I’m having a bad case of baby fever since I’m ovulating hard and I need fic of quackity with gf who’s ovulating like crazy and who’s begging for a baby

ooo baby fever!!! the only person in the world that i would ever want a baby w is alex😞😞 but yes, i got u my lovely <33 thx for the request

[also it cane out a bit diff than what u asked for im sorryyyy!! dont hate me bbg💔💔]

prompt: alex dealing with a baby fever filled gf

no smut but mentions of it ofc!!

everywhere you look, there’s babies. on tv commercials, at your job, even at the grocery store there’s always a baby who won’t stop smiling and cooing your way.

and who would make a cute baby? alex, your boyfriend, that’s who!

he has sparkling honey brown eyes with dark lashes framing them perfectly. his fair skin that has freckles and beautiful face moles. and his hair! he has a full head of hair that would look absolutely perfect on a sweet little baby.

lately, on your free time, you were indulging in this want and need and desire for a baby of your own. you were sneakily watching mommy and baby vlogs. you loved seeing their belly grow and their journey through their pregnancy. you even subscribed yourself to a baby magazine and it was what you looked forward to every time you checked your mail.

but you hid all of this from alex. you knew he probably wouldn’t understand. just how most men don’t understand why women obsessed over weddings and wedding planning. it also didn’t help that you were definitely ovulating.

and right now, you were sat listening to your boyfriend going on about his day. well, not really listening. more like admiring him and imagining him as a father and wow did that turn you on.

“what about you? how was your day?” alex asked suddenly

“oh, you know, i mostly just did my online coursework and cleaned the house a bit. i’ve been bored since you went out..” you said, trying to be inconspicuous

“trust me, i missed you too. now let’s eat. the food you made smells amazing” alex said, getting up to serve himself a plate

he served two plates of food, one for you and one for him. the two of you ate in mostly silence, with casual conversation here and there. once you finished eating, alex offered to wash the dishes since you did the cooking.

you sneakily pulled out your phone and scrolled through your pinterest. of course, you had baby related posts all over your feed and you loved it.

“babe.. this sponge sucks. where are the new ones we got the other day?” your boyfriend asked

“should be in the drawer next to the stove” you absentmindedly responded, eyes glued to your phone

alex opened the drawer and found your stash of baby magazines. he wasn’t blind, he knew what you had been obsessing over lately. this was the perfect time to bring it up. so he grabbed a sponge and washed the dishes. after drying his hands, he turned to face you.

“so… you’ve only been studying all day huh?” alex smirked, holding up one of your prized magazines

your eyes widened. you were at a loss for words.

“i-i uh… my sister is pregnant and um she sent me those to help her pick stuff out and—”

“hmm, addressed to our home to ms. y/n” alex interrupted

“do you think i don’t know by now? i see the way you’ve been looking at anything baby related online. i know you always volunteer to do the grocery shopping just for the chance of running into some mother with a baby… my question here is, why hide it?”

“i didn’t think you’d understand… i know how guys get when their girlfriends start talking about babies and i don’t know. i didn’t want to upset you. i didn’t want to make things weird between us..” you explained softly, expecting alex to get upset

he walked closer to where you were sitting and tucked your hair behind your ear gently.

“i could never be upset with you princesa. you don’t have to hide things like this from me. you know i love kids just as much as you do” he reassured you

you nodded sadly, still feeling a sense of guilt.

“why don’t we start trying?”

your eyes lit up and a huge grin was etched onto your face.

“you really mean it?” you asked and alex nodded with a smile on his face

“i would just adore having a little munchkin running around here. i think you’d be a spectacular mother y/n. i can just imagine them having your big ‘ol eyes and your pretty lips” he caressed your face sweetly

“and your gorgeous freckles… oh my god alex! we would have the most adorable baby in the whole wide world! do you actually want to start trying?”

“yes i do, princesa. we’re in a good place financially and also in a healthy place in our relationship. i wouldn’t want to have a baby with anyone else but you” he smiled

“you’re going to be such an amazing dad. you don’t know how much i’ve daydreamed about you holding our baby in your strong sexy arms. the way you would be super protective over them. i just know you’d have our baby on your chest at all times. you’re so innocent and precious and so so good with kids alex. you are definitely daddy material” you stood from your seat and reached out to hold his hand

“also.. i may or may not pay attention to your ovulation period…” he said seductively

“what?! why? you’re a weirdo!” you teased him

“no! i mean i pay attention to when you write those notes on our calendar! you freak” alex was red in the face and you couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered expression

while you were too busy laughing, he suddenly stood up and pushed you against the wall nearby, trapping you there.

“you’re probably really sensitive right now, aren’t you?” his voice came out in a darker tone

“m-maybe…”

“let me make love to you, princesa. quiero impregnarte ahora mismo. quiero que me sientes y que sientes que te hago la mama de mis hijos chula…” he said, making sure to kiss your neck while he spoke

all you could do was nod. his words alone made you so wet and needy for him already.

“i’ll make sure that after tonight, you’ll definitely become a mother” he smirked, dragging you to your shared bedroom

#alex quackity #alexis quackity #quackity #quackity x reader #quackity x y/n #quackity fanfic

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emoisthenewemu · 3 months ago

Text

⋆˚✿˖°𐙚 ERWIN SMITH X F READER SMUT 18+ MDNI

⋆˚✿˖°𐙚 cw: daddy kink, ex! levi x reader, SMUT, PORN W VERY LITTLE PLOT, p in v, female body parts, oral on both ends, squirting, size kink??, dumbification?, general nastiness almost 9K words of nothing but smut, rough sex, and i think thats mostly it!!!

⋆˚✿˖°𐙚 lol so if anyone is interested i might write a pt 2 w levi and a pt 3 threesome?? This also derived from a levi fic im working on i might just post that here too. Its so funny how my first work on tumblr is an ERWIN SMITH smut of all things but here we are. He makes me so feral

.　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　. 　 ✧ 　 ˚ 　 .　 ✧ 　. 　 ˚ 　.

You did not expect anyone to follow in your angry march away. In fact, you preferred that no one did, especially Levi. But he seems to be completely repulsed by you these days so you are sure he would do no such thing. Erwin did wait about a minute before taking off without a word, clearly just as unimpressed with Levi as you were. All the man wanted was to blow off some steam, but that was now ruined all thanks to the petty squabble between the former lovers. He was sick enough of hearing all about it from both sides and now it was following him outside of work. Smith did manage to sneak a pint for the trek underneath his coat, managing to finish it long before arriving back to headquarters. And his poor friend was in so much pain that it made him hurt too, he tried to avoid this, to warn her that Ackerman does not have the emotional intelligence for a relationship. He does not know how to be soft and sensual.

Like you deserve to be treated.

It would be inappropriate to admit that Erwin had thought about what it might take to satisfy a woman like you. In more ways than one. But he wants to ignore it and follows up the stairs silently, waiting until you reached the floor of your office/living quarters to call out your name. "Y/N"

"Not in the mood commander" You grumble, not wanting to hear an 'I told you so' from him of all people. You have always admired Commander Erwin, he was a man with principles and honor. A loyal and courageous leader, easily one of the best the Survey Corps had ever seen. Everything about him was impressive; a long list of accomplishments throughout his professional year, he was well educated and had a hefty amount of titan kills under his belt. Another thing which could be considered impressive would be the sheer size of the man. He towered over many with big burly shoulders and a deep, rich voice. His muscles would pop out of his undershirt (something the female scouts would never fail to notice) and his hands were large enough to make regular things appear miniature. You would be lying if you said you hadn't imagined what lay underneath that uniform. But it would be absolutely scandalous to sleep with the commander of all people.

However, you somehow did not find anything wrong with sleeping with the second highest ranking member of the Scouts. That was not your goal of course; to sleep with a powerful man. It just sort of happened, after years of the slow torture that was getting to know Levi and be close with him. Your relationship was similar of that to his with Hange-mostly comprised of shit talking and poking fun at each other. It was like that for years and sometimes things did get intense, growing more into argument territory rather than their usual lighthearted bickering. But you always made up, if not with a verbal apology then with little gestures. Levi always checked the straps of your gear before expeditions, made sure you stretched and ate beforehand. Whenever you found yourself in battle, he somehow always managed to be right behind just in case things went South. And it was not until you were able to lead a squad of your own that Levi had to admit he absolutely hated to be apart from you.

That was how you knew he loved you, it made keeping things so secretive okay. As long as you knew Levi cared for you, that was all that mattered. But as time passed you could not help but wonder if it was purely physical for him, judging by the way he began to completely ignore you in front of others. All it took was some light teasing for him to begin to stray away from your touch. And it hurt that something so small could be enough to stop all that was happening between the two of you. That seemed to be the beginning of the end, it was not long after that the man pulled you into his office and insist the two of you keep things professional from now on. That it was a mistake. He said it so coldly, as if he had not let you sleep in his arms two days prior.

But you played it cool and managed to make it all the way to the stairwell before hot tears began to stream down your face. You refused to let him see how much it hurt, wanted to make it seem as unimportant as he did.

That was only a month ago, so when Erwin initially invited you out to the pub you were weary of being in the presence of Humanity's Strongest Soldier. But Erwin insisted that one of his most hard-working soldiers should put the paperwork down for just one night and let loose. He also promised to not leave your side, aware of the weird tension between you and Levi.

Erwin was not dumb, and happened to be the only person who caught on to you and Levi. Noticing the stolen glances and sly smiles sent from across the room. It wasn't until you accidentally sent down a paper that was meant for Levi on the commander's desk. A paper with a not so subtle note at the bottom containing such foul things that he did not dare to even repeat them as he scolded the two of you for being so careless. You had never seen him so angry, nor had he ever spoke to you so harshly. It was so harsh you almost cried, hiding your face the whole time in utter embarrassment. The two of you promised to never again let your 'nighttime activities' affect your work. And he left it at that, choosing to never bring it up again. He intended on never involving himself between the two of you again.

But tonight as Erwin saw the pain which clouded your eyes, it made him want to make it all go away. How desperately he ached to make you forget all about Levi and scream his name all night long instead.

"I am not here to make you feel dumb" He reassures, closing your bedroom door behind him. You watch him intently from the other side of the room, a clenched jaw as he plays with the loosened collar of his shirt. The drinks were making him sweaty, a tiny droplet catching the light as it dripped down his chest.

The very last thing you should be worried about is how utterly sexy your commander looks at a time like this. You don't consider yourself the type of woman to move on so easily. But how can you not be enticed by a sweaty, hunky man standing in your bedroom, only there because he is worried about your well-being? Not what is beneath your clothes. In fact, he makes a show of averting his eyes as you begin to undo the bodice of your dress. He has always been so respectful and good to you, always made sure to ask your opinion on important matters because he valued your input. That was arguably the hottest thing he had ever done; respect you entirely. "Forgive me if it is not my place to say this, but I believe you can do much better than Ackerman"

You laugh, letting the strings of the corset hang as you silently pray he will give in to look at the way your breasts threaten to spill from your dress. "Is that so?" You raise a curious eyebrow. "Any better options?"

Erwin finally looks back over to you and he silently curses at your undone dress which is practically begging to just be ripped off. He swallows thickly, focusing on the middle of your eyebrows as to not look anywhere else. "None come to mind. Though I do hope you'll find one more willing to communicate his emotions"

"Hm" You kick off your boots, wondering if the tension is not just one sided. If he feels the heat too which eats at your whole body. So neglected, and feeling so unwanted. You put on your nicest undergarments today in the hopes that Levi would be taking you home. You just want someone to take care of you, soothe the uncomfortable ache between your legs. You have enough on your plate as is, dealing with the newest recruits to the Scouts. They were already starting fights and complaining about orders and it was supposed to be your job to whip them into shape. And you were exhausted, drained from feeling like a single mother with a group of disobedient kids who just had to question your every order. You needed some stress relief desperately. It is obvious with the way you rub your tired eyes, hunched over your bed as you stare at the floor. "And you? I still find it hard to believe a man like you has no lady waiting for you to come back home every night"

His posture eases up but his body remains pressed against the door, almost like he is afraid to step any closer. He imagines there is an imaginary line which starts at the wardrobe in front of him, and should he cross that line he does not trust there will be any going back. In fact, he should have left the very second his impure thoughts started. "A man like me?" He sounds almost proud, that charm of his is beginning to kick in. He loves talking to ladies, can wrap them easily around his finger. "Im awfully busy you know? Don't have enough time to dedicate myself to a woman the way they deserve"

"Poor Commander" Your sweet voice makes him weak in the knees, his resolve faltering with every second. "You're a good one, so strong and brave. You take such good care of all of us. I think you deserve to have someone take care of you"

You're such a good little soldier, the Commander has always thought so. You have always followed every single order with a sweet smile, obedient and looking to please. He wants to thank you for being so perfect, for worrying about him when the original intent of following you was to check on your feelings. And by now it is obvious that you are teasing him, not even bothering to hide the way you clench your thighs every time he speaks. And you, the little minx you are, can tell that you're getting to him. Finally cracking that iron-tough exterior. It's evident with the way he cannot look at your eyes more than a few seconds, gaze constantly darting down to your chest and exposed thighs. He is clearly battling inside of his mind and you are dead set on breaking him.

He clears his throat, beginning to tap his foot anxiously as he looks around almost comically. As if there were anyone else he could look over to in this room that would convince him to get the hell out of there. Commander be damned, that was not even a concern on his mind right now. His main worry would be how upset Levi would be if he ever found out his most trusted comrade slept with his woman. But at the same time, that makes it all the more enticing. He wished he could rub it in the smug bastard's face that he has his beloved practically begging to be fucked by him. How he wants to make you scream so loud Levi hears it.

"Y/N" It's almost painful to speak, the way he is actively holding himself back from moving. He refuses to take even a single step. "It would be very inappropriate to let something happen between us"

"Mmm....but that just makes me want it more" You whine and he brings his fist up to his mouth in an attempt to conceal the curses slipping out. You feel like you are almost there, so close to getting what you desperately want. You sigh dramatically, making a point of throwing yourself back onto your bed. "No one is forcing you to stay Erwin. I couldn't keep you from leaving if I tried"

You're right, he is a grown man and if he had any kind of self control he would be marching right out of there. But right now, his chest is warming up and his mouth is watering at the sight of your dress bunching up dangerously close to your most sacred area. Now on your side, you look him up and down. You cannot help but laugh at how tense he is, almost as if he was afraid of you. "Oh Erwin, stop looking at me as if I'm trying to corrupt you"

His pants are beginning to grow tight, his own body betraying him as he finds himself growing uncomfortably hard. He attempts to clasp his hands in front of himself in an attempt to conceal the forming tent. The man lets out a deep breath, looking up to the ceiling. His mind is made.

He wants to ruin all other men for you.

Erwin finally crosses that line, stepping forward and gesturing for you to sit up. You obey, watching intently as he kneels in front of you. "My only concern is that if I start I may not be able to control myself" He admits, hands tracing the skin of your ankles which hang over the bed. The position makes it so that he is placed in between your thighs, his body beneath you as he looks up with wide eyes. He is so handsome it's almost unfair, you bring a finger to trace his sharp jawline. "A woman like you should be cherished"

His rough hands bring up one of your legs, relaxing back on his heels as he goes to place a soft kiss to your calf. He catches a glimpse of your white, lace panties and it makes him groan. After all of this teasing, you now find it hard to speak-too entranced by how soft he is being. It is a complete contrast to the way Levi makes love to you-as if every time would be the last. Erwin is taking his time, kissing and licking up your legs so sensually that you find whines leaving your lips. But he stops at your inner thighs much to your dismay.

You pout, looking down at him expectantly. "Don't worry princess" He coos, seeing your frustrated expression. He knows you are impatient, he is too but it has been far too long since Erwin had the opportunity to pleasure a woman. He will be damned if he does not enjoy every second of it, if you don't finish multiple times then he will be rather disappointed. Perhaps it is one of his kinks, getting nice sweet girls all worked up-to corrupt them. You just feel so heavenly, he wants to make you turn absolutely filthy. "You'll get what you want. Good girls are patient"

You're so unbelievably horny you could cry. You want to beg him to just fuck you already but that would be way too desperate. You still would like to keep a semblance of respect for yourself, as if the act you found yourself in was not disrespectful enough. Commander Erwin is sliding your dress down your shoulders, making you sit up a bit so he could pull it down your thighs. It almost feels unreal, that the most respected man in the Regimen is on his knees for you, ready to take you entirely. Finally, he kissed your-gasping into it you could not help but pull him closer by the shirt. Your hands fumbled with the buttons, finally getting a chance to run your nails down those chiseled muscles you had only dreamed about up until now.

His tongue presses into your mouth, running his hands down your side as he tries to touch every bit of skin available to him. He is so good, kiss tender yet passionate. You can feel how badly he wants you, the way his head moves in sync with yours as low groans escape his lips. As desperate as you were a few minutes ago, you hate the thought of his lips leaving yours, grabbing hungrily at his biceps as she shrugs his shirt off. Erwin began to fumble with the buckle of his belt, ripping it off and throwing it to the side without a thought. When you finally pulled apart, you were about to complain until he stood up to take his pants off.

You decided to keep things going, slipping off your bra to leave you in only your panties. His eyes darkened at the sight, going back on his knees and immediately latching his lips onto your chest. Soft moans escape your lips as he finds one of your nipples, sucking softly at the skin as his hand gropes the other. You buck your hips into his, using one of your hands to play with his hair. "So good Erwin" You praise, reaching your other hand down to the place he needed to be touched the most.

You cant reach enough to wrap your hand around his length, but you can feel the tip rubbing against your fingers as you desperately try to grab more of him. He is thick, and you cannot wait to see how long he must be. When he finally pulls off of your chest to look up at you, you smile. Reaching down to kiss him, he allows you to jerk him more through his underwear-you notice it is too much for just one of your hands to hold. It makes you so anxious to feel him inside of you.

"You're so beautiful" Erwin compliments, his beautiful blue eyes taking in your entire figure. "I've always thought so"

"Wish I knew that sooner" You tease, aware that this cannot go any further than what happens tonight. Neither of you are in any place to be in a relationship. But it feels so incredibly good. "But I have to admit I have thought of this more than I should. You are one of the most handsome men I have ever seen"

It feels good to be complimented, it only makes him want to devour you even more. So he decided he has had enough of the teasing, he wants-no. He needs to taste the real thing. He wordlessly pulls down your panties, wrapping his arms around your knees to pull you closer. And he looks up at your pretty little face one more time, before diving in between your legs. One lick up your slit is all it takes to completely ruin the professional relationship the two of you had spent years building. He should be ashamed of himself, being in such a high power position and still succumbing to his own nasty urges.

It is so wrong, he moans into your pussy at the thought. It should not be making it so much better, the thought of how naughty he is to be licking up your pussy like a man starved. His tongue flicks between your folds, going up to circle your clit before going back down only to repeat his movements. Every time he reaches your clit, your hips bump up and it is not long before he pulls you so flush against his face that he cannot lick anywhere that's not your pussy. He shakes his head side to side, moaning again as he makes out with your folds. "Tastes so good" He groans before diving in, this time focusing on that little nub directly. You moan loudly, beginning to pant at the way he sucks right on your clit. He stops to flick it with his tongue, loud noises of slurping and sucking so obnoxious anyone in the nearby rooms could hear. "So sweet" He pulls apart again, unable to process how fucking good it tastes. If he had days he would dedicate the night to just eating your pussy, the fucking could wait for later. "Pussy's so good princess"

He moves his tongue lower, finding your entrance and prodding at it softly. He settles his face deeper between your thighs, grabbing the soft skin as his large nose bumps up against your clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. God, his nose, so prominent and strong. The absolutely filthy thoughts you had about riding the man's face and using it to rub your clit against just like he was now. It was all so much, so good as your moans grew louder. He was fucking your entrance with his tongue by now and you could not help but bounce against his face, desperate to have more. The pleasure was starting to build, Erwin could tell by the incoherent words which spill from your lips.

No longer were the soft whines and moans which got him so worked up in the first place. Now you were talking complete nonsense, but that did not matter to him. That was only more encouragement for the man to keep going, oh how he wanted to fuck you stupid.

"Fuck!" You panted, hands gripping at the sheets, his hair, his shoulders, anything you could hold on to as your lower body bounced against his face. Nose still rubbing against your clit as you wonder how he could even breathe with his face so suffocated between your thighs.

He couldn't but he did not care. He was willing to die between your legs as long as you finish on his face. He needs it, he is dying of thirst and only your juice can give him some relief. "Please" He mumbled, going back up to focus on your clit and shoving a finger into you. You moan loudly and he begins to rock the digit into you, making out with your clit so sloppily you can hear the saliva sloshing around. It is so dirty it makes your eyes roll back, mouth forming into an 'o' as he picks up the pace, adding another finger. "Please cum on my mouth princess"

"Ohh yess baby!" You gasp, unable to think as the pleasure continues to build, overwhelmingly so as your legs begin to shake due to how fast the man fingers you. "Im-im..."

You cannot finish your sentence due to your release, and Erwin is going absolutely feral. He slurps up every drop, moaning about how good it is, that he can't believe you were hiding this perfect pussy from him all these years. He supposed he is to blame for that but he is far too in the moment to worry about any of it. When he pulls apart his face and chest are soaked, hair sticking to his head as he let out heavy breaths.

You managed to lift your body up, reaching out for his touch. He grabbed your hand and kissed it sweetly, almost as if that obscene scene which laid before you minutes ago never even happened. "Mm come here baby" You murmured softly and he obliged, giving in to the kiss you pulled him into. It was slow and sensual, tongues slowly greeting each other again as you held his face in your hands, enjoying the taste of yourself on his tongue. "Did so good" You mumble into the kiss, gasping when he bites your bottom lip.

"Thank you sweet girl" He mutters, going to kiss and bite at the skin on your neck. He breathes in your scent, tasting the salty sheen which now covers your whole body. His kisses are hot and needy, his hands going to grip your ass.

"Get on the bed please" You asked nicely, desperately wanting more praise. It sounded so incredibly good coming from him, was the best kind of encouragement you could have ever hoped for. You thought so highly of him, and you needed to make him proud. If you were going to ruin your relationship then you would at least hope he would be imagining your lips wrapped around his cock, thinking back on it fondly. Like you said, he took such good care of of you and this was simply returning the favor. "I wanna taste you now"

So he finally unveiled himself to you entirely, cock springing out as he pulled his underwear off rather impatiently. It slaps the skin of his stomach, a glossy sheen covering the tip as the rest of it looks angry-red and swollen, begging to be touched. He is so unbelievably thick that it makes your mouth water, thinking about how you will have to open your mouth as wide as you can to take him entirely. You slowly wrap a hand around the base, squeezing slightly as you prepare to take easily the largest cock you have ever seen. "You're so big" You almost whisper, pressing a chaste kiss to his knee.

Erwin senses some hesitation, reaching out to caress the side of your face so sweetly. He knows he is going to lose any sense of composure the second he feels your tongue, and he just hopes you are prepared to take him the way wishes. "But you can take it darling" He coos, thumb going to rub your soft lips. They part slightly, taking in the tip of his digit to suck on it lightly. He shudders at the feeling, imagining your lips wrapped around another part of him. "Such a good girl, gonna choke on daddy's cock for me right?"

You moan at his words, nodding so excitedly it makes him laugh. You are too precious really, he can't wait to ruin you. He wants to make you cry on his cock, shake and finish until you can't take anymore. "Yes daddy" His words are all the encouragement you need to finally take him, just allowing the tip into your mouth at first. Your tongue flattens against the tip, licking and tasting all of the precum which surrounds the head. Taking a deep breath, you move further, an experimental bob of your head as you find you mouth completely stuffed. And you're just about to reach halfway, how in the hell is this going to work?

Erwin's hand places itself in your hair, gently helping guide you further down. His noises are heavenly, and all he can do is stare down at you. Watching you take it intently, body shuddering as you begin to speed up the pace at which you bob your head. He thrusts slightly, smiling at the small gags leaving your mouth. But it's not enough, he needs you to choke on it, gasp for air as spit drips down your chin. He wants tears falling down your eyes as a bulge forms in your throat. This was all it took for any kind of respect to be thrown out the window, you've got him started now, feeling insatiable as he desperately wants to use you as a fucktoy. "Look at you" The blonde man groans, chest heaving and glossy as his thighs clench with the way you refuse to use your hands around him. Only your mouth, up and down gagging every time you take him in your throat. "Look so fucking sexy with my cock in your mouth"

You moan around his length, clenching your thighs together as you yearn for his touch once more. You can hardly breathe, the scent of his musk invading your nostrils as his pubic hairs tickle your nose. You are so completely enveloped by all things Erwin Smith, everywhere you look, touch, taste. And it is driving you crazy, unable to think about anything but your big strong commander who deserves to be praised. You need him to feel worshipped as you finally swap your mouth with your hands, choosing to suck on his balls instead. The act emits a growl from the man, panting above you as he cannot form any thoughts with the way you guzzle up his balls. You're moaning, sounds of slurping and spit as he can see the mess forming on your face. Jerking him hungrily as your tongue dashes across the two sacs, so eager to please him. "So fucking dirty" He curses again, an occurrence so rare it makes you moan. And he slaps your chin softly, not hard enough that it hurts but firm. "Who knew you were such a slut?"

You moan, going back up to take his member back in your mouth. You only bob a few times before coming up with a 'pop!', pleading eyes looking up at the man in front of you. His lips curved into a sly smile as he admires just how sloppy you look. Lips so swollen from taking his dick and a few strands of hair stuck to your chin from all of the spit. "Fuck my mouth please" You have no shame, you're almost whining as you grab his hands to hold your head. You look up with wide eyes, his excitement evident as it seems there is a newfound twinkle in the man's eyes. "Please daddy" It angers him to think about how obedient you must have been for Levi, he needs to remind you on what exactly you were missing out on.

"Such good manners darling" He compliments before lowering your mouth back onto him. His whole body tenses, groaning at the way your throat convulses around him as he pushes your head further down. "So sweet asking daddy for permission. I didn't even have to train you first"

You can't speak back of course, in fact he wonders if you can even process what he is saying with the way he thrusts up into your mouth. And the noises are so obscene, gargling and gagging-the sound of Erwin's pants and moans filling the room. It is too good to be true, his thrusts pick up the pace as spit falls freely down, pooling on his thighs as he massages the inside of your throat. Poor thing, it will be certainly bruised after this and he reminds himself to have a hot cup of tea prepared for you the next morning. Praises leave his mouth as he uses you, balls slapping against your chin as his hands begin to pull on your hair. You focus on breathing out of your nose when you can, swallowing every time he shoves himself all the way to the back. It drives him crazy, he moans loudly every time you do it and that is enough to keep you going. Your eyes are crying, unable to stop the tears from flowing as you choke on his cock.

It has been a very long time since Erwin had the sheer bliss of a woman's mouth wrapped around him. And he cannot remember if it felt this good the last time, he wonders how he went so long without it. Maybe it's just you, so willing to take him and let him do whatever he wants. It makes his cock twitch, release nearing as he finds himself proud he even lasted this long. As much as he wants to prolong it, toes clenched and chest tightened as he refuses to spill out-he decides to give you a break. You deserve it, with how well you've taken him. "M'cumming darling, you better swallow all of it" He growls, slapping your cheek softly as you moan excitedly-ready to swallow his seed. "And say thank you"

Those are his last words before finally spilling into your mouth, jaw slack as he moans loudly into the night. His hips rock softly, chasing his high and it makes his body shudder. You clean all of it up, careful to not spill as much as a drop and you make a show of swallowing to prove you won't be letting it go to waste.

"Thank you" You hum, giggling softly because things will never be the same. You wish you could brag to all of the other women who admire him just as much as you do.

He pulls you up by the hand and you get on the bed, humming softly when he embraces you, wrapping an arm around your waist before settling his forehead down on your shoulder. He kisses the skin softly and you melt into his touch, running your fingers up his back. It is so intimate, a complete opposite from the filthy things that took place moments prior. Your lips meet again, moving slowly and tenderly as you both grab at any skin available. You feel hungry for more, carnal desires completely overriding your body as you want to beg him to take you. Levi is not even a thought in your mind as you crave Erwin and Erwin only.

He can tell you need him with the way your tongue impatiently explored his mouth, hand going to grab his half-hard member. Stroking it softly you whine into his mouth, leaving his lips to place kisses trailing down his neck. You suck at his earlobe softly, emitting a groan from the large man. He stops your movements by grabbing your wrist. "Lay on your back darling"

You nod, moving back onto the bed and opening up your legs to give him a view of the thing he craved to feel the most. The sight alone is enough to make him fully erect, ready to fuck you the way you deserve. He kisses up your body, starting at your hipbone and following up your ribcage until he reached your neck. His big hands run up your legs, greedily as he takes in every inch of your body. He can't stop touching you, fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach, going to trace over your nipples and collarbone. "Please Erwin" You beg, yes you love the way he is looking at you as if you were the only woman on Earth. You feel adored, so confident under his soft eyes that you are not even worried about covering up. You feel no shame, only desire for the man situated between your legs, shoulder muscles flexing as he wraps both arms around you. But you are going to go absolutely insane if he doesn't fuck you soon.

"You're too good to be true princess" He sounds sincere, nuzzling his head into your nape as he rubs his cock against your slippery folds. You whine, grinding down on him before trying to grab it and put the damn thing in yourself. He stops you like it's nothing, choosing to pin your wrist above your head. "I need to ruin you"

With those harsh words, he finally pushes the tip inside, groaning immediately at the sensation. He does not bother to wait for you to catch up, sheathing himself entirely as you claw at his back-you open your mouth to gasp but no noise comes out. It's as if his cock is strangling you, filling you up in a way you could have never imagined. "Take it" He whispers, bucking his hips softly and ignoring the way to try to paw his hips away from you. It's too much to handle, your pussy feels like it might split open from all the pressure. Tears well in your eyes as you try to relax, taking a deep shaky breath that makes the man shudder. You look so cute trying to relax when his dick is molding your walls to his size, and the way you cry out with every thrust makes him want to give you more. "Fucking take it" He mutters, groaning when you try to push his hips away again. "Stop running and relax"

You whine, bottom lip shaking as he pushes himself inside again, choosing not to move so you can become more accustomed to the feeling. And even when he is not moving, you still whine and dig into his back as if he were actually fucking you. "It's just so big. Y-you didn't even go slow" A tear falls from your eye and you don't even know how screwed you are.

He's not listening to your complaints, all he sees is a whiny whore that needs to be whipped into shape. But he will do it, by the end of the night you'll be more than prepared to take his cock at any time. He is about to scold you, but he notices your walls beginning to relax, your chest no longer raised as if you could not lay down comfortably. "You're the one who begged for it slut" He thrusts again and you both moan, your arms go to wrap around his neck. His face is pressed into your chest, bodies flushed entirely against one another as his slow but powerful thrusts invigorate your every sense. "And now-" He stops to give another hard thrust and you practically scream at the feeling. It causes him to cup his hand around your mouth, angling his body into a new position. He pulls your hips down, your body going down slightly so that you are more flat on the bed. "You're gonna take what daddy gives you, okay?"

You nod and that is when the fun truly begins. You really had no idea what you were in for, going and teasing your commander just for the fun of it. Because you were messy and horny and needed to be stuffed. You did not know it would result in the most in-depth and passionate fucking of your life. He needed it even more than you did, the stress of his job and the constant questioning of his morals was beginning to drive him mad. He did not feel like a person anymore. He was a martyr, represented every single soldier in the Survey Corps. The public could point and blame him whenever an expedition went bad, every loss of life was his fault. He was a devil.

The only thing devilish about the man was the way he fucked, no mercy, using every bit of his strength to get exactly what he wants. You cannot do anything but moan and cry as he pounds into you, unaware that all of his anguish was being poured into you. He feels the most alive he's felt in years, he never wants it to end. He wished he could fuck you until his heart stops. His movements grow faster, the mattress loudly squeaking and you wrap your legs around his back. You cry out his name as he watches your breasts bounce with every movement.

"S-so good daddy" You whimper into his ear, clinging to his body and trying to pull him even closer as if it were possible. "Fuck! Feels so good!" Your hips are trying to meet his thrusts sloppily. Too preoccupied to think, you dig your forehead into his shoulder, moaning whatever words you can make out. When you bite down on his shoulder he cannot stop the moans which leave his mouth. His noises are the hottest thing you have ever heard, so deep and guttural. You suck on his adam's apple, pussy clenching due to his desperate noises.

"Gonna cum inside this messy pussy" He manages to speak, and the sight of your juices splattered across his abs make him want to finish that very moment. He wants to watch the glistening skin as you gush around him but he knows he won't last with such a filthy sight. He just needs a little bit more before he lets it all go completely. Erwin slips a palm beneath your head and cups the crown of your head, groaning because you're now fucking him back, desperately clawing at his back muscles as you try to guide his pace into you. He moves up to catch your lips but cannot find it in himself to kiss you when he feels such ecstasy. You moan into each others mouths so desperately as he rocks into you. You continue to fuck down on his cock, thighs beginning to shake.

"Mm! Mm! G'na...fuuuck" You cry out as your orgasm finally arrives. It rocks your entire body and you go limp, unable to form a single thought as Erwin chases his own high.

Luckily, the way your walls squeezed him in the second you came was more than enough to encourage his release out of him. His toes curl as he finally lets himself finish, panting into your skin as his cock twitches inside of you. Both of your bodies are slick with sweat by now and he keeps himself inside of you, letting all of his weight down. His head rests on your chests, mewling in delight when you bring your fingers to scratch his scalp. "What do you say darling?" He reminds as he remembers a hand still remains tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to press a lazy kiss on his lips.

You kiss him back longer then expected and he leans into your touch, causing his cock to slip out. You both whine at the sudden loss of contact. It almost feels wrong to not have him plugging you up. "Thank youu" You remember and he laughs almost mockingly. His thumb grazes your lip and he pulls you closer to kiss you again. His tongue teasingly introduces itself into your mouth before pulling out completely. He remains close, hot breath ghosting against your skin. "Mm, thank you so much daddy"

He kisses you again, so hungry it makes you whine-suddenly aware of his seed which leaks out of your swollen pussy. "You're so adorable" You meet with another sloppy kiss and when you suck on his tongue excitedly his dick springs back to life.

"Again" He orders, a newfound burst of energy as he shoots back up. Resting back on his haunches, he pats the bed. "On your knees"

You're staring at him like he is insane. Of course you want him again, you feel so empty without him. But you would also like to be able to walk tomorrow. Your arms are barely strong enough to hold yourself up, shaking with the way you lean back on them. You are a very busy woman, have important drills to run with the newest recruits and the thought of flying around through the trees in your ODM gear makes you want you cry. You are so sore already, your poor pussy feels like she was abused. Not to mention you have to walk an almost comical amount of stairs just to get outside in the first place. "B-but I have drills to run tomorrow" You pout.

Erwin laughs at the scared look in your eyes, so mean as he rolls his eyes dismissively. "I'm certain you'll live" He mocks and it makes you pout even harder. "Don't be a brat, I thought you were a good girl"

"I am!" You insist and you look so cute it makes his dick twitch in anticipation. He needs you again, and he will have you again.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure" He teases, fingers running up your thigh to meet your pussy. "Thought you want to make your Commander happy?" He asks, using a finger to clean up some of the cum that was now dripping inside of you.

When he pushes it back inside, your leg twitches and the man smiles wickedly. "I do Commander!" You whine. "You deserve the best"

He raises an eyebrow expectantly and you get the hint, flipping your body over and arching your ass up into the air. He is very obviously pleased, placing a harsh slap to your ass. He does it again, watching the way your flesh ripples with each smack. You yelp the fourth time he does it, this one harder than the rest. "Good girl" You smile at the praise, glad you are back in his good graces. You'll take him as many times as he likes-so long as he never looks at you again with that disappointed look in his eyes.

He lines himself up your entrance, entering slow this time. Your velvet walls suck him in so greedily it's hard to move, but he manages with a few curses escaping his lips. He throws his head back with the next thrust, obsessed with the squelch of all of the juices leaking out your sloppy pussy. "Ohh my" He moans, eyebrows furrowing as he watches his cock disappear into your tiny hole. The way you tighten around his limb makes him think you are fighting the urge to run away from it. He notices your dainty hands clawing at the sheets, your face scrunched up as you moan loudly.

The sound of clapping begins to arise with every thrust, he grabs your sides to keep you in place, his hips piston into you at an unrelenting pace. You can't even think. "Oh! Oh! Oh!" You cry each time the tip brushes your cervix and Erwin is in a trance of his own. His eyes are glued to the creamy ring forming at the base of his cock, ears so focused on listening out for those nasty noises exiting your cunt.

He moans unabashedly as he drills into your poor cunt. He is too focused on the lewd noises exiting your pussy that he does not notice the way the headboard slams against the wall. The wood is old, creaky and likely rotting by now. It also has taken quite enough beatings already from your late night escapades with Levi, you aren't sure it can handle much more. But you don't dare to try and stop him, you're too fucked out to speak anyways. You gasp when he hits a certain spot that makes you see stars.

"Right there princess?" He groans, pulling himself almost completely out before snapping his hips right back into the same spot, earning the same reaction out of you. "Daddy takes good care of his girl right?"

Your eyes are almost crossing with the overstimulation. His deep commanding voice, the way his balls slap your clit with every thrust, his fingertips digging into your thighs so tightly they're sure to leave a mark and his filthy fucking words are going to be the death of you. You take a deep breath, eyes squeezed shut at the delicious mix of pain and pleasure. "Yes daddy! Yes! Doing so good!" You're a mess, drooling into the sheets as it seems the man has finally met his goal. You are ruined. Your words are growing borderline incoherent, repeating the same things over and over. "So good! S-so big! Mm-so strong!"

Erwin is practically lifting your bottom half completely off the bed, drilling into you as if his life depends on it. The 'pat pat pat' of skin slapping together makes him feel absolutely feral, his eyes stuck on the way your body moves with each calculated thrust. "Yes!" He chants like a prayer, growling when your pussy begins to squeeze him. And the way you whine, cry, and slobber beneath him makes it seem like you haven't been fucked good in a while. "What would Levi say if he saw his pretty little slut bent over for her Commander?" He slaps your ass and you squeal. His thumb goes to press against the rim of your asshole, teasing the flesh lightly as he pulls your pussy back onto him.

"Ahh!" You moan, fully intending to answer his question. "Oh he'd be so mad!" You giggle and another thrust makes you cry out again. "F-fuck cant imagine"

"Does he fuck you better than this darling?" The man spits on your pussy, leaving a stinging sensation with another rough slap to your ass. The skin is red and he hopes to god a handprint will be left over to commemorate this blissful night. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your skull, whining like a bitch in heat as he rubs against your g-spot. You cannot talk, pussy squeezing his cock that is currently abusing your hole. And when he stops, going to press his palm flat against the side of your head you want to cry. Slowly fucking yourself back into him, you shudder, overstimulation creeping up as he hits every spot perfectly. "I asked you a question slut"

Truth is, you are afraid to answer. Things with Levi are just different. And not in a bad way, you have cried around his cock multiple times and he has certainly pleased you in the past. With Erwin drilling into you, you want to scream that he is the best you've ever had and ever will. But you also fear the repercussions, should Levi ever find out you said that you will be punished for God knows how long. But Erwin absolutely needs you to fuel his ego, he needs to fuck you better than Levi ever can. So he angles your hips a bit more and thrusts hard, keeping his tip pressed against your cervix and rubbing the spot lightly. You scream at the sensation, eyes beginning to well up from the pleasure. His hand pushes your head deeper into the bed, picking your hips up even more as he used you like a doll. "Is this all your good for princess? Nothing but a tight fuck-hole"

You cry out garbled moans of his name as he fucks you so meanly. In this moment he has full control, and you will do whatever he says. "S-so much better than Levi daddy!" He almost stops to confirm if he heard that right but he decided he would much rather fuck the confession out of you again. So he does, arching your back even more and fucking you harshly into the mattress. The bedframe is back to being thrown against the wall again, loud creaks matching his every thrust. "Your dick is so good daddy! Best I ever had!"

That is exactly what he needed to hear to lose the little bit of composure left in his body. His groans and movements are starting to become borderline animalistic. The sight is so obscene, if anyone were to walk in they would come face to face with the shock of their life. He does not worry about the noise, the only other person with living quarters on this floor is Hange and she's no snitch. Especially if she knew the Commander was involved, he was more than positive she would look the other way. The only other person he can think of who would come up here is Levi and by God he hopes he does. The thought makes his balls tighten, Levi listening on the other side of the door as his sweet girl cries around Erwin's cock.

"This pussy is mine now" The blonde commands, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass. "I'm going to take you wherever I want whenever I want okay Soldier?"

"Y-yes commander!" You're fully sobbing by now, tears streaming down your face. You look sooo pretty, Erwin thinks. It is making all smart thoughts fly out the window, oh how he needs you to scream out his name.

"Say my name" The man orders, cock still stuck inside you and moving at an unrelenting speed. His stamina is almost as impressive as his cock. "Let them all know who fucks your cunt this good"

"Yes! Yes!" You nod beneath him, still pressed into the sheets as you try to ignore the loud 'CRACK!' coming from your headboard. A few more calculated thrusts are sure to make the thing fall apart. "Ohh Erwin! So good! Erwin!"

"That's it sweetheart" He moans freely into the air, hips snapping into yours. "Let them know how good your Commander fucks you"

You continue chanting his name and the second your eyes squeeze shut, walls clamping down on him the bed finally breaks. It crashes down as his cock continues to plunge into you, for some reason seeing the wood crack right down the middle makes Erwin go even harder. He desperately hopes Levi can hear the depraved noised which fill the room. Your head is growing dizzy, gasping for air as your thighs begin to shake. You try to warn him of your upcoming release but it comes much faster than anticipated, you sob as your juices spray his abs. His big heavy balls are coated with your liquid and he admires the way it almost glows with the light. And this time around he doesn't even have to remind you to scream out "Thank you! Thank you!"

"That was a big one princess" He moans, chasing his own release as his thrusts grow sloppy. His hands grip your hair even harder and you hiccup as he leans his body into yours, fucking your pussy almost lazily. The sight of you squirting will never leave his head after this, he fully intends to see you do it again. "Oh so good" He moans, finally shivering as his cock twitches. Slapping himself against your pussy he finally cums, spraying your womb with his seed. Unfortunately, thanks to Levi he is aware that you are on birth control. It's almost painful to think he has no chance of getting you pregnant, but he still imagines your stomach swollen with his child.

He pulls out, finally relaxing as he lays down beside you. Both of your chests going up and down as you try to catch your breaths. You are an absolute mess, sprawled out across the sheets-still on your stomach. Your head is facing the opposite way, in its own pile of tears and slobber from being fucked so dumbly. His cum drips out of you, a heavenly sight that he cannot tear his eyes away from. But he wants to feel you close, the man brings out a hand to trace up your spine. It makes you shiver with delight. "Let me hold you darling"

You wordlessly turn over to face him, welcoming yourself into his strong, warm arms. Your head rests on his chest, bare bodies pressed together as he softly plays with your hair. Your hands rests on his chest, feeling his heartbeat drum against your palm. Erwin kissed the top of your head softly, he feels so welcome in the comfort of your bedroom. He intends to sleep with you in his arms, and just maybe he will stay tomorrow night too if you let him.

"Erwin?" You ask hesitantly, the post-orgasm clarity kicking in as you take in the weight of your actions. You fucked your Commander, what now?

"Yes my darling?"

"What am I going to tell them about my bed?"

___

Levi is quick to make it to your room next morning. He is up bright and early, intending to catch you before you make your way down to the mess hall for breakfast. He also hopes that maybe he'll get some make-up sex out of this. He even showered the second he woke up. He knows he is an idiot and getting shitfaced last night was enough to make him realize he loves you. It is the only reason he acted so out of his character, no respect or second-thought for your feelings. He regrets it all and is fully prepared to do what it takes you make you officially belong to him.

He is at the end of the hall, only a few steps away from the staircase when he heard your door open. He hears you giggle, it makes his heart drop. He cannot remember the last time he heard your sweet laugh. And he is utterly puzzled when he sees you push Erwin out your bedroom door into the hall. You say something he can't make out and Erwin obnoxiously laughs at your words before the door closes in his face. Levi is utterly shocked as the wheels in his head turn, noticing that Erwin is still in the same clothes he wore to the Pub last night. He was not in Uniform, instead he had a few of his shirt buttons undone, the fabric very obviously wrinkled and not neatly pressed like his clothing always was. He also appears to not even be showered yet, he looks like he has just woken up. Worst of all is the God-forsaken, smug smile on his lips when Erwin finally catches sight of Levi who remains in his place at the end of the hall.

"Good morning Levi" The blonde greets.

"Erwin" Is all the raven-haired man says, that same unimpressed look on his face as always. "Were you just leaving Y/N's room? Did you sleep there?" He has no shame in asking, he needs to know.

"Oh we were just having a conversation! Don't be ridiculous" He walks closer to Levi, who remains with his arms crossed. "It seems she is need of a new bed-frame"

Levi's eye twitches, he knows that shitty thing is on it's last legs. He's partly to blame for that. "And why's that?"

Erwin sighs, slapping a hand on Levi's shoulder. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it" Levi immediately throws his hand off and the man continues inching towards the staircase. "Just get back to work Captain!" Levi rolls his eyes, watching the Commander begin his descent down. "That's an order!"

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