#it’s not like he’s not going to get back to work right away

[rafesdollette]

SLEEPOVER WITH SECRET!BF!RAFE

a/n: i got a request for this a few weeks ago but the ask deleted itself so I'm so sorry to whoever sent that! and i'm trying to get out of my writers block so enjoy...whatever this is. (not sure how I feel about this) not proofread!!

cw: contains smut, 18+

“come over? just for a little bit?” rafe asked as he looked at you through the facetime camera. it's been a rough day for him and you were really the only person he wanted to see right now. but it was past midnight and you weren't supposed to be out of the house around this time, let alone going to his house.

you've been told by your parents to stay away from him—countless times, actually. rafe knew he had some...things to work on, but in his mind, he wasn't that bad. at least towards you. “dunno rafe...'m already in trouble for skipping school yesterday.” you frown, tapping your manicured finger on the side of your phone. rafe sighed, sitting up against his headboard “please? it'll be quick. i'll sneak ya in and out.”

you were hesitating and that's something rafe could see clearly, but he was desperate. you were one of the only people he actually cared about these days and he didn't want to be alone right now, especially not at night.

“please..? you're the only person i want to see right now.” he pleaded, almost begging in a way. he was never one to beg, but it was the only thing he could think of that could convince you to come.

you thought it over as you bit the inside of your cheek. you knew how it would end if your parents found out you snuck out of your house. “isn't sarah home though?” rafe was silent for a moment, his hand running through his hair “no...she's out. won't be home 'til morning” he murmured. that was one less obstacle so it was one good thing. but you still weren't sure. rafe was your boyfriend and you cared about him, but sneaking out wasn't the best idea right now. “but my parents said-”

“i know sweetheart and i'm not tryna get you in trouble, but i swear it'll be like thirty minutes.” he cut you off, his tone almost desperate. you bit your lip as you leaned back against your headboard. “rafe...” you trailed off with a sigh. you weren't saying no right away, but you weren't saying yes either. it was clear you were conflicted as you hesitated before adding, “okay, fine. but just for thirty minutes. not a second longer.”

rafe's face lit up as he heard you agree. he knew he could be convincing if he wanted to and he was so glad it worked this time. “thank you baby, be outside waiting. i'll come get you.” with that, he ended the facetime, standing from his bed as he grabbed a jacket and his keys. it didn't take long for you to change into some shorts and a hoodie and put your shoes on. you carefully crept out of your room and out into the livingroom, pausing to listen for any noises. once you were sure your parents were asleep, you opened up the front door and slipped outside, shutting the door quietly behind you. by the time you were out of your house, rafe was already parked outside.

rafe was leaning against the door of his car as he waited for you. he heard the door open and shut, looking up and seeing you walking towards him. he could see you were nervous, but it didn't stop him from pulling you into a tight hug. “hey,” he greeted, his voice tired but he felt better with you in his arms. you returned his hug, leaning into the embrace. “hey...” you murmured back, your tone almost equally as tired. you could feel the exhaustion in him as he hugged you and you felt the need to ask, “you okay?”

rafe let out a sigh against your shoulder, giving you a light squeeze before leaning back “not really...” he mumbled, releasing his hold on you reluctantly. he opened the passenger side door for you, waiting until you got in before shutting the door and walking around to get into the driver's side.

you got into his car, leaning back in the seat as you looked over him. you could tell something was bothering him by the look on his face and his tone of voice. it's been a long time since he sounded that exhausted. “...rough day?”

rafe ran a hand over his face, looking over to you wearily “rough life.” he mumbled, starting up the car as he pulled out from the curb. “seatbelt.” you hummed quietly as you reached out to grab the seatbelt, buckling yourself in. you decided not to ask more about what exactly was bothering him; in time, he'd probably talk about it.

the car ride was silent as rafe drove back to his house. you didn't mind though, figuring that he needed the silence in order to calm his head for a bit. a few moments passed before he parked in his driveway, unlocking the doors and getting out. he came around the side and opened your door for you, offering his hand to help you out of the car.

you slipped your hand into his, letting him help you out of the car. walking through his yard, he quietly unlocked his front door and let you in first. “wheezie's home so we're gonna have to be quiet” he said as he shut the door behind him, locking it again.

you followed him inside “gotcha” you whispered as you looked around. “is she awake? i don't wanna be the reason she doesn't sleep.”

“she's asleep.” he mumbled, nodding towards the stairwell. “come on..” he took your hand again, quietly leading you upstairs to his bedroom. once inside, he closed the door and locked it before turning on his bedside lamp and walking over to his bed.

you followed him to his bed, crawling onto it and moving to lay back against the pillows. you could still see the exhaustion in his body as he laid down next to you, his head resting against your shoulder as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “wanna talk about anything...?” rafe was silent for a moment, almost as if he was thinking about your question. he really didn't wanna talk about anything at all. all he wanted was to lay here with you, which he thought to himself as he shook his head. “nah”

you nodded once he answered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you closed your eyes. you could tell he didn't want to talk and you were okay with that. you both laid there in comfortable silence, no sounds besides the sound of your breathing and the occasional passing of a car outside. “can i do anything to help?”

it felt good to lay here with you. it was the only real peace he's felt in weeks and it helped calm him a little. when you spoke again, he lifted his head to look at you, his tired eyes meeting yours.

he moved a bit closer to you, his arm around your waist tightening as his head rested on your chest. “this is more than enough for me, sweetheart” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your side. “i do have a request though”

you looked down at him, your fingers lightly running through his hair as you waited for him to speak. you could tell he was still thinking about something and you waited patiently before finally speaking, “what is it?” rafe's eyes closed as your fingers ran through his hair. he loved when you did that and it relaxed him greatly

he was still silent for a few more moments before finally speaking. “i need to relieve some stress.” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing against your waist once more before suddenly resting right above the drawstring of your shorts.

────୨ৎ────

“a-ah shit, rafe” your hands clench by your sides as rafe glides his tip between your drenched folds, looking down at you with this tongue between his teeth. “mmh...this wet already, darling? barely even touched ya yet.” rafe hummed, smirking down at you. all you can do is nod and let out a whimper as he tapped his cock against your cunt. “nuh-uh, words. none of that whimpering shit”

you were already a stuttering, whimpering mess as he ran his fingers over your clit. you needed more from him, wanted to feel more of him, but you knew that he wasn't going to give that to you until you answered.

you let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him, eyes wide. “yes!” you quickly whimpered, “been thinking about it all night. please, please rafe...” you whimpered, your hips bucking up in an attempt to get more from him. “i know baby, i know” rafe murmured, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he teased your clit with his thumb again “been so long since you've had this cock, yeah?”

you nodded rapidly, eyes pleading him to do something, anything. you wanted him so badly and you could tell he was just teasing, which was driving you absolutely insane. “rafe..." you murmured, your voice trembling a little. rafe chuckled softly, shaking his head “come on. don't get all shy with me now. tell me what you want” he said with a smirk, his fingers still moving over your clit, barely applying pressure. he could feel you shaking beneath him, which encouraged him to tease you a little more. “tsk tsk i want an answer. i know you know how to talk, baby. i just wanna hear your pretty little voice say it.”

you swallowed hard as you looked up at him from under your lashes; he looked so damn proud of himself. you were almost positive he got off on teasing you like this, and the last thing you wanted to do was give him that satisfaction. but your patience was wearing thin and you were getting desperate. you just wanted him to touch you already, but he was always so stubborn. you ran your tongue over your bottom lip as you met his gaze again, your voice shaking a little as you finally spoke up, “n-need you rafe…please...”

“mmh, that's my good girl. i knew you could do it baby.” rafe murmured, finally pushing his cock into your aching hole, causing both of you to let out simultaneous moans. “a-ah fuck” you gasp, gripping onto his biceps as he pushes all the way in, making you groan at the feeling, his cock slowly slipping all the way down, filling you to the hilt, “so fuckin' tight” he groans under his breath at the feeling of your narrow pussy engulfing his member.

you whimper as he remains motionless, denying you the much needed friction. “mmh what do we say after i give you something, baby?”

you could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he murmured the question into your ear. he knew what he was doing. he knew exactly how to get you to say what he wanted you to say, knowing how well he filled you up and how he wasn't moving. you moaned quietly, hands moving to grip onto his back as you looked up at him with watery eyes, “thank you.”

rafe hummed and nodded against your neck, lightly kissing just under your ear as he lifted his head, “good girl.” he said “you're welcome, my love. anytime.”

he finally pulled his hips back a little, thrusting back into you “you feel so damn good, baby.” he breathed before beginning to thrust into you harder, repeatedly hitting your cervix deliciously “been too long without having you.” he murmured, his hand gripping onto the back of your thigh, lifting your leg up over his shoulder. the change of position caused his cock to slide even deeper, making you gasp.

you whimpered at the feeling of him hitting your sweet spot, unable to speak clearly “oh...oh g-god rafe” you tried, your eyes already shut as you tried to move your hips in time with his. he could feel your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red indents. “look at me.” he murmured in your ear, his hand reaching down to grab your chin, turning your face towards his “look at me while i'm fucking you, sweetheart. ” your mind goes a little blank for a moment when he says that, only able to focus on the feeling of him inside you. it takes a few seconds before you manage to open your eyes again, meeting his gaze. rafe's eyes are focused on you, a small smirk on his lips as he sees you staring “there you are.” he hums, biting down on his lip once he feels you start to clench around him “shit, you gonna cum already?”

“yeah...mmh, so close ray.” you moan, struggling to keep your eyes on him as his hand reaches to press his thumb against your clit, rubbing tight circles. “so fast, sweetheart?” rafe murmured with a smirk “been that long, huh? gonna make a mess all over my cock already?” you don't even have time to respond before your orgasm hits you hard, your body shaking as the coil in your stomach snapped. eyes squeezed shut, walls clenching around his twitching shaft. the way your pussy cinched around him is all rafe needed to go over the edge, spilling his seed deep inside you.

“mmh ray?” you murmur, looking up at him with your glossy eyes. “hm?”

“think 'm gonna stay here tonight.”

taglist: @bunbun-3 @drewscoquette @untitled10351 @rafesweetie @meetmebehindthemallrafe @supercutelovergirl

© rafesdollette

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛ SOME ENCOURAGEMENT. NAM-GYU / PLAYER 124

nam-gyu attempts to recruit beloved, timid reader into thanos’s world. all it takes is a little encouragement.

𖥔 ࣪˖ TAGS, nam-gyu is a little pushy (but everything is consensual between him and reader) | unconsensual voyuerism (again everyone is asleep but i don’t wanna make anyone uncomfortable) | ooc characters (first time writing for nam-gyu) | minor degradation & praise (+humiliation(?)) | use of the words slut, good girl, etc. | fingering | minor dacryphilia | just a silly little imagine | nam-gyu is lowkey manipulative | reader is a freak with a thing for fingers/hands | etc.

𖥔 ࣪˖ NOTES, writing smut on company time is actually hilarious, idk why i got this idea during work. but anywho — i hope you enjoy, i tried my hand at his character. as always please ignore any grammar mistakes or typos.

Imagine Nam-Gyu attempting to recruit someone without the advice of his beloved purple-haired leader. Surprising, right? Despite his own issues with inferiority; the ex-club worker just seems to follow behind Thanos like a hungry puppy desperate for a bone— or drugs, for that matter. But no, just this once, Nam-Gyu takes the lead. The numbers are growing closer and even more scarce, fear lacing people’s minds and causing them to hit that dreaded X button. Thanos’s World’s dream is to continue the games to pay off their debts, right?— so it only made sense for Nam-Gyu to turn an X over to the O side.

He couldn’t just pick anyone. Someone far too strong-willed would definitely tell him no, and someone far too weak would just be a curse rather than a blessing.

Who to choose.. Who to choose..

Soon enough the man’s eyes are locking on to you— a contestant he has seen around, yet hasn’t heard much from. Not only were you easy on the eyes but you just seemed like the perfect person to shape into a worthy teammate.

Within minutes he’s approaching you, an easy-going smile in place as your name falls from his lips. Nam-Gyu had heard it said before by someone close to you, another random that he hadn’t bother to think about.

“Yes..?” Your words are slow, lips pursing as you take in the man before you. You were beyond nervous; this was the lackey of that purple-haired lunatic after all. Watching the two fight on the very first day was enough to tell you to avoid them at all costs. Yet here you were, a few feet away from one of them, under his gaze that trailed over you like a pretty piece of jewelry behind a display case.

You couldn’t help but bring your hands closer to yourself, teeth dragging across your cheek nervously.

From your head to your toes, Nam-Gyu’s eyes soon landed on that big red patch residing just under your bosom. With a breathy chuckle he reached over, allowing a single finger to press and trace the X.

“You wanna get out of the games that bad, huh? You voted X twice already.”

Your eyes flicked down to his hand, before traveling back to his face. “Yeah well..” You dragged slowly, watching that harsh gaze return to your features.

“I—I want to get rid of my debts.. but putting my life on the line for it just seems..” You hoped you got your words across perfectly, even without continuing your sentence. Sure, it was hard being hounded for your debts, but death looming over your head just didn’t seem worth it.

Still, Nam-Gyu only shook his head at you, a sigh full of pity escaping his lips.

“Well, that’s where you’re messing up.” Nam-Gyu hummed, stepping just a bit closer, finger still tracing that damned patch. Your attention kept flicking between his face and finger, wondering why exactly warmth was pooling throughout your entire body.

“Worrying too much about dying is what’s gonna get you killed, not anything else.”

Your eyebrows knitted close, a look of confusion plastered across your face. Worrying seemed like the right way to keep yourself alive.. right? Not worrying just seemed, well— stupid. Not that you would say that to his face, obviously.

“I have to disagree..”

Just barely did you hear the sound of the man sucking his teeth, watching the way his face turned to the side, clearly searching for his next few words. You debated on walking away from this conversation, it was clear what his objective was. And whether ordered by Thanos or not, you didn’t really want to know— nor figure out.

Yet for some reason you were practically glued to the spot, blinking up at him and waiting oh, so patiently for his next spiel. And as you watched his face turn back to you, your breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay then.. worry all you want, but you wouldn’t you want someone to look out for you?” Nam-Gyu’s other hand was reaching to your patch at this point, using both thumbs to trace it. “Being on this side, there’s no unity.. it’s every person for themself.”

The two of you locked eyes, a sickeningly sweet smile crossing his face.

“Come with us, and we’ll look after you. I’ll personally see to it too.”

Slowly did your teeth sink into your bottom lip, struggling to maintain the eye contact that he seemed so keen on keeping. The only thing you could hear was your racing heart and the gentle sounds of his thumbs sliding across that red patch. His words were.. tempting. You wondered if he rehearsed what to say, like a video game with multiple endings; did he have it all figured out before he even walked over? Was he so prepared to convert you, using every rejection you had as some silly obstacles the man easily hobbled over?

So caught up in your thoughts, you hardly realized Nam-Gyu had gotten even closer until his breath fanned across your ear in a simple;

I’ll let you think it over, let’s talk again later..

When you thought of later, you initially believed in thirty mins or so. Maybe this time he would bring over his beloved leader to really get the point across. But no, later seemed to be during lights out; when you all should be sleeping, tucked away in the rare bliss these murderous games brought.

And the only talking that was happening was the soft words Nam-Gyu continued to whisper into your ear and the even softer moans of passion that slipped from your swollen lips.

See, Nam-Gyu wasn’t an idiot despite what Thanos seems to think. Quickly he caught on to two things whilst speaking to you.

The first being, you were quite cute when nervous. And two, you just loved looking at his hands.

So what better way to really stretch his point across but using his beloved fingers to stretch you open just how he liked?

“Should have done this from the start, look how cooperative you’re being..” The smile on Nam-Gyu’s face was permanent at this point, the corner of his mouth twitching with each pitiful moan you released. His rings were tossed lazily to the side, his bare fingers now pushing into your sloppy cunt so perfectly. Longer then your own, they pushed and prodded; opening you up and rubbing against your soaked walls. With each breath you were clenching, causing the smile on his face to only grow deeper.

“Scared of dying but not of some stranger finger-fucking you, huh? What a joke.”

You wanted to tell him off, how he was so mean and so wrong. But you couldn’t, not with how your mind was getting complete lost from his movements. Your teeth were grinding into your bottom lip, a metallic taste filling your mouth as time progressed. Deep moans thundered from your throat, muffled by your harsh biting. You couldn’t imagine having your little recruitment interrupted by some poor contestant just trying to get some rest.

But with the way Nam-Gyu was practically ruining you, it didn’t seem he cared much either way. He was so hellbent on coaxing you, his lips right against your ear as that damned thumb came and circled your swollen bud.

“I told you I’d look after you right, where’s my thank you?”

Your eyes widened the moment his free hand rose, pushing at your cheeks and basically forcing your lips to part. The sound you let out was a strangled mix of a moan and gasp, quickly clasping your own hand against your mouth.

Nam-Gyu chuckled on his breath, thrusting a third finger into your wet cunt as he spoke; “What? You scared of the other contestants realizing how much of a slut you are? Shouldn’t worry too much; this messy cunt is making enough noise for you.”

Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, so fucking mean he was— yet you couldn’t help but enjoy the attention. His digits were curling inside, brushing across that special spot that caused you to shake. Your thighs were clenching harshly around his arm, rushed breaths escaping as your chest rose and fell.

“Th—thank you.. fuck— please…!” You whimpered as softly as you possibly could, glossy eyes staring up at the man. You felt accomplished the moment he drew closer, feeling the cold metal of his chain brush against your heated skin before a gentle kiss was pressed right against your cheek.

“What a good girl.. You wanna come, hm?” The hand was lowering to your throat, fingers simply wrapping around it yet not squeezing. Nam-Gyu watched in pure enjoyment at the way your head tossed back and forth in a rushed nod; how needy you were for him. What a palpable little thing, is what he thought.

“I can make that happen, you just gotta do something for me.”

More words, whispered, tempting; drifting right into your ear and hitting the same pleasurable spots right between your legs. Speaking of, you felt your peak drawing closer; a tight band resting deep in your tummy— ready to burst.

You knew what he wanted, you weren’t an idiot nor were you too fucked out to forget. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you an orgasm wasn’t worth pressing that cursed button.

Yet, for now, you weren’t thinking with your brain, but with your pussy instead.

“P—please let me join! I’ll press the button— I promise!” Another whisper-yell escaped you, desperation clinging to every word as they fled those pretty lips.

With that final confirmation Nam-Gyu was quickening the pace of his fingers, eating up the way your body convulsed, a lost look invading your eyes as you came undone. Your essence trickled down his fingers all the way to his wrist, a sticky residue that he would make sure you clean up later.

For now.. his hand rose from your throat to instead cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb right under your eye so tenderly— so sweetly.

“I knew you could do it.. just needed some encouragement, right?”

[toxicanonymity]

I am humbly crawling to your page to confess my latest obsession: serial breeder!Joel.

no outbreak!universe Joel without Sarah, an old creep who lives in a lone house where every woman goes to get bred.

basement breeder

joel miller x f!reader, 1k words

Ty for this delicious thot. Almost sounds like you know who 🍃 in another life where he has them coming and going at all hours as gossip says. Standalone. WARNINGS: 18+ PWP imagine, break-in, manhandling, breeding piv, degradation, praise, mating press, carries you, pet names.

Imagine going there to get bred while you're consciously on birth control, and he gets obsessed with impregnating you specifically. You show him a positive fertility test, and he gets more aggressive. God damn, he's gonna make this work. Meanwhile, you don't seek him out the next time you (would) ovulate, and he notices, wonders if you're giving up or letting some other guy take a shot. That ain't gonna fly. . .

He quietly breaks into your dim basement while you're folding laundry on your dryer, wearing earbuds. From behind, a hand clamps over the lower half of your face. You scream into his massive palm while his other arm wraps around you, biceps bulging, stretching his white tee. He pins you against the dryer, and the warm, hard shape you feel through his pj pants sends a rush of need to your core.

With you pinned there by his clothed arousal, the arm around you falls away. His free hand brushes the shell of your ear then nudges your earbud out. He reaches to repeat this on the other side, then wraps his arm around you again and gives your breast a squeeze. He brings his mouth close to your ear, and his voice is deep and low. "Stayin' home like it ain't the most important day'a the month."

Oooh, is he mad? God, he's hot like this.

When you struggle, he adds, "Or *did ya* stay home? ... You some kinda cumslut now?"

You subtly shake your head 'no', with your nostrils brushing against the edge of his hand.

"Nah," his hips push forward, "you want this cum," he grinds.

You go quiet and relax your body. He thrusts against you at a slow rhythm, and you're getting wet. A little "Mm?" slips from your lips into his palm.

"Yeahh, that's right," he continues, "Want it bad, don't ya, pumpkin?"

"Mm," you just barely nod.

"Good girl," he says and takes his hand away from your mouth.

You clear your throat. "I was just tired."

"Tired," he laughs. "That's a good one."

He's normally good about foreplay--with you, at least - your body and your scent turns him on so bad. His hands are incredible, and he touches you just how you like it. He's even been known to bury his face between your legs. But this time, he's fully on a mission.

He hikes up your skirt and pulls your panties aside, then spits on his hand and pats the saliva between your legs.

"Ooh," he reacts to your warm, wet cunt against his lingering hand. "Didn't needa do all that, did i? Shit, you're always ready for me." He tugs down his pj pants, then his warm, smooth cockhead prods at your cunt, smearing precum into his saliva and your desire. You bend forward and rest your forearms on the clean laundry abandoned in front of you, then scoot your feet back to give him a better angle.

"Good girl," he whispers.

He buries his length in you with a groan, and your insides spread around his girth. "I'll knock ya'up, baby." He holds your waist, and with a punch of his cock he bottoms out, "Ahh." When he withdraws a few inches, you spread your feet, tilt your hips, and push back on him. "Hell yeah." He bottoms out again, then grabs your hips with both hands and pounds you.

He's on a mission - he's not trying to make it last. And he's been aching hard ever since he got it in his mind to do this. He was palming himself over his pants for relief as he walked up to your basement door.

He's giving it to you hard and stiff, weeping precum into your poor stretched hole with every powerful thrust. "Yeah, take it, baby," he breathes, and promises, "put a baby in ya," making you twitch and throb, close to bliss. When he picks up the pace, pummeling you near jackhammer speed, his words are broken by his rhythm, "ahhh, yeahhh--- cum on this cock." When you whine he says, "yeahhh, you want this cum," and you see stars.

You unravel and moan his name, feeling your face heat up after it slips out.

"Fuck yeah," he breathes, pounding you through it.

He abruptly pulls out, and you whimper at the loss. You start to protest, but he takes your panties all the way down, leaving your twitching pussy bare. He forces you around to face him, then bends his knees and you put your arms around him as he lifts you. You wrap your legs around him, and he sinks you onto his stiff cock, letting out a grunt as he bottoms out. After adjusting your weight, he walks you to your nearby bed. With each step, your clit rubs against him.

He lays you down and folds you into a mating press. His thrusts are hard and deep. "ungh," he grunts, "yeah," another thrust, "ohh fuck, " he bottoms out and throbs, warmth gushing into your depths. "God damn, baby." With another hot burst, he deepens the mating press, determined for his seed to take. Your thighs feel a deep stretch. He hovers over your face, and a drop of sweat hits your cheek.

Breathing heavily, he inches back then thrusts forward again, repeating this action a few times as his balls empty. The last thrust ends with a sigh. With his work done–for now–he stays inside and keeps you in the mating press. He wets his lips, admiring your face. “God damn, you look hot like this.”

"yeah?" You reply.

Nodding slowly, he dips his head and scans your body with hungry eyes. He can't help but pull his hips back an inch to admire the sight of your cunt spread around his fat cock. And God damn, what a sight. Not planning on pulling out any time soon, he fully sheathes himself with a low, soft grunt.

"shit, I oughta clear my schedule," he muses, glancing up from where your bodies are joined. He subtly nods and shifts his eyes around as though thinking it over, rocking his hips absent-mindedly. "Yeah," he concludes, "if this don't take ... take ya to my place 'til it does."

--

--

--

Basement Breeder Adjacent

Night walks Joel has breeder energy but only with reader.

For breaking into your basement, Sleeping Beauty - CNC home invasion / somnophilia with another night walks doppelganger.

For serial breeding, a post-outbreak one shot, the old fashioned way, a different Joel and he's a real professional, not a creep.

TYSM for reading, friends. And truly, thank you for your engagement and support. You're a light in my life when it's in shambles lol. Love y'all 🫶🏼

[mattybsgroupie]

fitting | chris sturniolo

— CONTENTS: handjob (m receiving); mommy kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

— NOTES: hi my loves! sorry i’ve been a little m.i.a, some stuff happening at home and not really in my best mood BUT i’m here! you give me strenght to keep going and doing what i love. did you guys miss him as much as i did :( chris my beloved!!! inspired by this blurb, thought i’d show how shy chris was before their first time! — btw this fic is part of the milf!au but you can it on its own! — not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy ♡

walking around the mall after a busy morning at work, you spotted a familiar figure across the alley. it was quite impossible not to recognize chris — his long hair falling over his big eyes, wearing his shabby jeans and his old converse as he typed frantically on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings.

you approached him slowly, standing in front of chris and expecting that he’d notice you soon. when he raised his head, a smile spread from ear to ear, his blue orbs sparkling. it had been over two weeks since you last saw each other due to stacy staying at her father's place, therefore, chris had no excuses to visit you.

“chris? what are you doing here?” you asked in your usual sweet tone. he scratched the back of his head, as if he was a bit embarrassed about the situation he found himself in. “huh... actually, i was supposed to meet stacy” chris admitted, tucking his cell phone back into his pocket and standing up beside you.

“but she won’t make it” he said. a puzzled frown appeared on your face. it’s true that you couldn’t always keep track of your daughter’s schedule when she wasn't at home, but she wasn’t the type to miss dates or hangouts. 

“cheer practice” he explained. you nodded, realizing that the game season was about to start. it felt so wonderful to see chris again. “well, would you like a ride home? i just have to look for something real quick and then i’m all done”

“sure, c-can i keep you company?” he asked, eager for a positive answer. “absolutely, sweetheart”

you led the way to the store you were going to visit. a lingerie shop. chris gulped when he saw the bright sign, the pink lights contrasting with the black interior and then sighed. he knew you missed him just as much.

“that’s not fair, mama” he mumbled after a while. chris had been following you like a puppy, interlocking his index with two of your fingers, as if he could lose his way at any second. 

“making me so needy” he complained again. you stopped by a red, lace lingerie set and happily brought it to your chest, turning to chris. “what do you think of this one, chris? pretty, right?”

“mhm— really pretty” chris shook his head as he sunk his teeth on his bottom lip. he looked away from you and the way the bra rested perfectly against your chest. “what’s up, baby? are you having a little trouble down there?”

“mama… don’t do this to me” chris whispered. his hands started to get sweaty and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. he was about to get hard in public just because he thought of you in lingerie, which was ridiculous, since he had seem you naked previosusly.

“i’m not doing anything, sweetie. i’m shopping and you’re keeping me company, isn’t that right? is it my fault that you can’t hold yourself back and got all worked up just because i got some lingerie?” your warm tone sent a shiver down his spine, his chest immediatly inflating with air. “‘m s-sorry i just keep thinking… of you wearing it” chris tried to explain himself as you chuckled, enjoying his embarassement.

“yeah? you wanna see me wearing a nice set for you? which one do you like better?” you asked, handing him three pairs of bras and panties in different colors.

“the red one” chris spoke, still not daring to look at you in the ways. you walked in slow, seductive steps towards him, the sound of your heels taking over the empty store.

“c’mere,  i’ll try it on for you” you continued, undoing the first button of your silk shirt. chris got a peek of your bra, it was the leopard print that drove him insane and made him kiss you for the first time, months ago. “but first we gotta fix this, hm?” you cooed, placing your palm against his boner and applying some pressure to it.

once again, you led the way towards the fitting rooms. chris followed you obediently, holding a bunch of hangers. you gaze scanned the store and with a naughty grin, you opened one of the curtains and quickly went inside, pulling chris by his wrist.

he didn’t even had time to hang your underwear. you pushed him against the mirror, smashing your lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. a loud groan left his throat as you moved to his neck, gently sucking on his skin. “mommy i missed you so much” chris rolled his eyes, his hands going to your hair.

“i missed you too, my good little boy” you whispered, palming his cock over his jeans. chris squirmed against you, a moan slipping from his lips. you opened a satisfied smile as you pulled away, sitting on the stool next to the mirror.

chris whined in protest, already missing how you hand and your lips felt on him. “got all hard for mama? you poor little thing” he pouted, nodding “c’mon, touch yourself for me” you instructed him.

his eyes widened in surprise — you had never asked him that. he didn’t know how to do jerk himself properly. chris was a virgin and the first time he was actually able to reach an orgasm was with your help. how was he supposed to do it on his own, and in public?

“mhm, unless you wanna go out with that pathetic boner” you teased, crossing your legs. the red heel started to slip from your foot as you finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully displaying your bra. chris whined again, silently pleading.

“mama… i n-need your help” chris spoke under his breath. “can’t cum without you”

“you’ll have to learn how to take care of yourself, chris” you said, pulling chris by his belt. you helped him to undress, freeing his shaft, almost slapping against his own tummy. you wrapped your knuckles around his length, stroking it in slow motions. “do you expect mama to be there every time you get hard? what are you gonna do when i’m not around, hm?”

“nhng— can’t— can’t be without mama” chris whimpered, more to himself than to you. he twitched inside your fist, placing both hands on the mirror to hold his weight, knowing his knees would ultimately give up.

you moved your thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as you circled it. his hips bucked forward as he leaned his head down, trying to hold himself. chris didn’t want to cum too soon, it was humiliating. he wanted to last long for you, he wanted to get used to the feeling your fingers around him, to the sound of your voice whispering praises and calling him a good boy, but no matter how hard chris tried, he pathetically failed.

“cum! mama, cum!” chris whimpered. you tightened your grip around his cock, pumping it faster. “please!”

“cum for me baby” you allowed him. you knew chris would need a long time to get used to your touch. in fact, it was adorable that he couldn’t even last five minutes.

chris threw his head back, moaning as he came on your hand, thick spurt messing your fingers and his jacket. you didn’t move your hand, continuing to gently stroke his wet, sticky cock.

that’s until your phone rang. you reached for your bag, quickly picking it up and seeing the name on the screen. “i think stacy is back home” you told chris, whose dick immediately became soft at the mention of your daughter’s name. “would you like to join us for dinner?”

— TAGLIST ♡⊹𑄽୧ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @cvnntagious @alesturniolos @emely9274

chris masterlist | milf au masterlist

[hurlingdown]

                 𝜗𝜚 BABY, FERVOUR! (FEVER)

synopsis. when new years baby fever strikes, the only thing you can do is make him juno. one of him is cute, yeah, but two, though? featuring you (yes, you!) thoroughly breeding the jjk men. wc. 5.2k

tags. top! reader, sub! gojo, toji, sukuna, geto separately. reader has a cock. baby fever, pregnancy kink, breeding kink. set in the a/b/o world as a plot device for mpreg. true-form sukuna & beast! reader, afab! geto, toji is a father of six (nine now). creampies, feminization, primal play, slut-shaming, dacryphilia, overstim, oviposition (only sukuna), daddy/mommy kink, full nelson, kitchen sex, mounting, nesting, size difference, belly bulging, mean tummy pushing, praise kink, degradation, rough anal & vaginal sex, extremely cockdrunk! suguru. whiny, needy jjk men.

a/n. you should know the drill by now . . . enjoy!

“. . . make a baby?” satoru whined, headily peering up at you between two spread, quivering thighs, held up invitingly for you. “heard it- it takes a lot of hard work to make one . . . ” 

“yes,” you grunted, brows fixed together in concentration as you gazed down at your lustrous mate, his lidded eyes glazed over in pure bliss. he was spread prettily underneath you, lewd pants and whimpers tumbling out of kiss-bitten lips as your cock continued to stretch tautly at his pink, puffy rim, forcing its way in one fat inch by one fat inch. “‘s that mean you don’t wanna? m-make a baby. with me.” 

satoru shook his head quickly, cheeks heating up as you repeated that phrase again. 

“‘course i wanna!” he mewled out, glossy eyes peering up at you in mock offense, “if it’s with you… i th-think it’d be okay.” he glanced away, cheeks heating up as though he was embarrassed by the idea of carrying your child, but you weren’t having any of that. 

satoru sobbed out a piteous whine as your girthy length dragged along his spongy walls as though it wanted to leave, feeling himself clench eagerly around it to restore the fullness. “noo, come back,” he whined, sharp nails raking down your back in pretty red trails, letting out a happy purr when you thrust to the hilt again, filling his stomach up. 

“‘m talking ‘bout a baby, satoru, not some toy…” you huffed disapprovingly, pressing a gentle kiss to the sensitive underside of his jaw, to which he let out a shrilly gasp at. “a baby right here.” you gave his tummy a little prod, and he whimpered, his walls pulsating around you at the mere thought of you planting a seed right there… a dirty little secret buried deep inside him, where no one would know but the two of you. “that’s what i want. do you understand me, ‘toru?” 

“i knoow what you’re talkin’ about,” satoru slurred sousedly, pupils dilated as proof of his intense arousal. he palmed his pudgy tummy with one hand, mimicking your earlier actions, before glaring up at you. “‘m not stupid, i‘m the best. ‘said i want a baby, so gimme one, ‘kay? your baby.” 

“i heard it takes a lot of hard work to make one, though,” you carefully repeated his own words, a sly grin slowly etching itself onto your face. he mumbled something under his breath that sounded awfully like ‘meanie’ before it sharpened into a whine as you pressed harder into the curved cusp of his hips, the fullness making it almost hard to breathe. “hours and hours of labour and hard work non-stop, in fact.” you huffed out a soft laugh, “well, it’s me doing the hard work anyway, but you won’t get to rest at all. you sure you can handle that, baby? might as well keep you on my cock all night long if you’re up for it…” 

he nodded enthusiastically, treating this like a challenge as he always would. satoru was the best. the best omega in all of the clans: tight sopping hole, negligible gag reflex, and a fertile womb that was always, always ready for breeding. and if you wanted a child, he was going to be the best child-bearer in the world. 

“put a baby in me,” he told you, firmly. “and don’t you dare stop until you do.” 

and that was all you needed to snap. 

like a man possessed, you snarled a quick curse into his neck, nipping at the mating bite you had embedded there on the side with stark affection before getting to work. two sweaty palms found their way onto the thick of his hips, gripping and squeezing, roughly yanking him back to meet every violent nudge of your bulbous cockhead against his prostate gland, now throbbing sweetly and starting to swell. 

satoru sobbed out your name loudly in querulous, broken syllables, thrashing wildly under your grip, but you didn’t let go—never would, only held on as your omega clutched on to your shoulders equally as tight. you would fulfil your promise, make him yours in every sense of the word. you would impregnate him. 

“gonna make you a mommy,” you heaved out, pressing down onto his softened tummy. you wanted to make him feel you inside, thick and hefty and pulsing with life, and he wailed out, the pressure on his slightly distended stomach increasing tenfold with one single push of your hot palm. “gonna make you full and round n’ swollen with me. is that what you want, ‘toru? to get knocked up like a good cumslut?” 

“yes,” satoru snivelled, tears dotting on his lashes as he whined pitifully at you. “a-alpha. ‘m your good cumslut omega. please...” he didn’t know what he was pleading for, he didn’t care, as long as at the end of the day, he would be stuffed to the brim with cum and seed with your knot plugging him up, a baby slowly starting to grow inside his womb as he dozes off to sweet, sweet dreams. 

“shit,” you growled, stiff grip pressing bruises onto flawless skin while you plowed into his soppy cave, making him keen at the rough treatment. all of this was making you dizzy with desire. you couldn’t wait to see his pretty tummy grow round with the baby you put in him. “wanna knock you up so bad, baby,” you whined into his ear, “you have no idea. gonna make you mine, ruin you for anyone else…” 

satoru sobbed out a moan, the sheer intensity of your words making his hole drool with want and anticipation, gummy walls squeezing around you with an obscene squelch. all he could feel was himself getting wetter and wetter, wetter and wetter… drenching the mattress with how much slick he was producing, the viscous substance practically pouring out of his birthing cavern like a waterslide. 

he had never been so fucking aroused in his life. the idea of his body slowly growing plump and heavy with your child, all fat and waddling around in his pregnancy, hands poised underneath his huge stomach to support it… 

you probably wouldn’t let him walk around much after pumping a baby into him, would you? you would probably strap him to the bed, keeping him pregnant and barefoot on your cock for the rest of the days to come. the strongest sorcerer in the world, reduced to nothing but a cumdump and a child-bearer. 

fuck, he was going to cum so hard. 

“gonna cum soon, baby,” you panted. “gonna cum in your pretty womb and you’ll take it, ‘kay?” 

satoru shuddered, crying out as he felt you grow bigger, your knot thickening at the base, making his rim stretch impossibly wider. “p-please. want it inside,” he weeped, desperate tears dribbling down his rosy cheeks in salty globs, to which you lapped up eagerly. “want your baby so much…” 

you gripped onto his hips harder, pressing them securely into the cushiony mattress while you pounded into the cramped space in his sloppy hole, making him yell out a filthy scream of your name, jackknifing off the bed and cumming all over his filled tummy in several, messy spurts. 

“yeah. and ‘m gonna do exactly that, princess,” you panted, sloppily kissing his neck while continuing to plow at his taut, tumid hole, still greedily fluttering around you despite the mind-blowing orgasm, wanting to be bred. “gonna put a baby- in you. get this tummy nice n’ round for -me, yeah?” 

“please,” satoru sobbed brokenly. he swore he couldn’t take it anymore if you didn’t cum inside him in the next minute. he was going to lose his fucking mind. “get me pregnant already!” 

at his warbled consent, you couldn’t hold back a primal snarl of ‘omega’ into his ear before sending a harsh, well-aimed thrust against his tumefied sweet spot, the beefy tip crushing itself against the throbbing, overstimulated gland, causing a loud wail to ring from your pretty mate. with a loud, guttural grunt, you forced your knot deeper inside his puffy rim, seizing and trembling before filling him up with thick ropes of warm cum. 

satoru gawped at you with watery eyes, keening and trembling with exhaustion as your knot settled deep and safely into his womb, stuffing him full of baby batter. you really had went and knocked him up now… and from the way you kept on crooning, greedy hands kneading his now swollen stomach with a terrible insistence, you definitely weren’t planning on stopping after one. 

FUSHIGURO TOJI

“you wanna what,” toji snarled, breath coming out in soft, frisky puffs as you carefully folded the omega in his favourite position—the full nelson. “‘m not in the mood for your ngh, fuckin’ jokes.” 

“i’m not playing with you,” you grit out, panting harshly into the valley of his neck and shoulder, licking a hot stripe from his dewy scent gland to the sensitive back of his ear, earning you a shiver. you mustered a low grunt as your cock slotted into his tight hole with a sloppy shlick, his walls instinctively closing in on you, keeping you safely tucked inside. “i want another baby, toji. wanna, heh, get you pregnant.” 

“y’er actually serious.” toji gave a nonchalant wriggle, getting you to loosen your grip on him, before sharply rolling his hips down to fully settle onto your lap—the sticky back of his rear now flattened against your straining quads, groaning as your thick cock slid in deeper into his soaked cavern. “fuuck. that’s more like it. fuck the stomach—think i can feel your dumb cock all the way in my throat.” 

the both of you panted wordlessly as you let his puffy rim get used to the heavy stretch, pleasured hums slipping from him as you smothered his neck and shoulders with red and purple love bites, tenderly licking over the teethmarks you had put on the side of his neck the first time you had consummated. 

“y’said you want another baby? get me pregnant? that it, stupid alpha?” toji muttered, giving you an impassive side-glance, but you knew he was excited from the idea with how much slick was leaking, no, pouring out from around your shaft, drenching your cock with his arousal. “bet you just like, ah- the thought of seein’ me all round and useless. bein’ an absolute slut for your,” he bit back a whine as you thrusted up into his sopping hole, “c-cock. ah, your big, fuckin’ cock… good for nothin’ but gettin’ me pregnant. hah.” 

a lewd ‘pap’ sounded as you bottomed out again, the convex tip weeping in unison with his fluttering walls, prodding him in places that sent stars swarming in his eyes. he could feel himself clench with every movement, his stretched hole growing wet and sticky at each drag of your thick girth, hot and throbbing inside him. it didn’t help that you were groaning and grunting in his ear, hips trembling every time you bucked up into his swollen, dripping hole, feverish body bounding his in such a taut, intimate position that allowed minimal movement on his half—that had his inner omega keening. 

“he does more than that,” you muttered, rolling your hips up so you could rub your shaft directly against his sore stomach walls, “and you know it.” toji gave a dry sob, clinging on to his own thighs as the round bulge of your cock appeared on his abdomen, deep and sinfully thick. almost resembling a baby bump. you couldn’t help but croon at his reaction to your little trick, starting to thrust into his wet cave again. “h-he’s- definitely very good at getting you pregnant, though, heh…” 

toji could feel his instincts acting up again at the way you were talking to him—making him want to fold his arms, press his chest into the mattress with his back arched like a good omega and raise his ass to the skies just so you could plunder him and put a baby inside his needy womb. fuck. he needed to get pregnant. he needed your seed inside him, filling him up to the brim of leaking, your bulbous knot securing the entrance of his slutty little hole, preventing anything from dripping out… and making sure he’d conceive. 

“fuck me,” he growled, “as many times as it’ll take. fuck a baby into me. a-another one. i want a fucking litter, you hear me?” 

“so demanding,” you panted, despite feeling yourself grow dizzy at his obscene words. “i’ll give you as many as you can take—don’t wanna tire you out, baby. y’remember last time when you had the, ah- twins? doubt we can fit more than- hn, three, though, in that little hole of yours.” 

“it’s not little if even your stupidly big cock can fit inside,” he scoffed. “i said i want a litter. now shut up and fuck me ‘till you give me one.” 

biting back instinctual dislike of this being not the traditional mounting position to mate and breed—it was your omega’s favourite after all, so it’d do—you continued to plow at his soppy hole, each filthy push and pull with the only intent of fulfilling your role as his sire. pumping a baby, a pup, into his sweet womb, making his tummy grow big and round with the product of your hard work. it was amazing, really, how all of this could occur from one spurt of hot cum deep into your beautiful mate. 

you could feel toji’s body shuddering with pleasure, sharp claws sinking into your forearms and whichever part of you he could physically reach, small mewls punched out of him with every thrust. but that wouldn’t do. not while you were making love to him. you wanted to make him cry. make him scream, preferably, eyes crossing and back arching as he sobbed out his pleasure to the world. 

adjusting the angle of your hips, you tightened your grappling hold on him before grinding up, a smirk cutting across your face as you heard him choke on a moan, legs quivering where they hung on the crook of your elbows, evidently overstimulated. he wasn’t going anywhere, now. not until you bred him properly like he had asked. this was your duty as mate. 

“too much,” he gasped, “too fuckin’ much, slow down—” 

“keep up, baby. you asked for this,” you hummed, nipping at his shoulder as he squirmed on your cock, rim flittering tirelessly around the bulk of your cock. “just let me do my job, yeah?” 

“fuck—you.” 

“in case you didn’t notice, i’m currently trying very hard.” 

toji whimpered helplessly, tight walls squeezing the life out of your cock, as though he were trying to milk every last bit out of you. you could feel yourself dripping inside him with every heavy slosh—every push and pull of your shaft against his cramped hole, pre-cum mingling with his slick, creating one big, wet mess inside him that would soon grow into a tiny bundle of joy. 

“gonna look sooo fucking pretty with my baby in you, toji,” you cooed into his ear, rewarding you with a feeble shiver and an answering whine. you bucked your hips, pushing deeper and deeper before allowing your knot to slowly take form, stretching him across the entrance with the heavy, swollen end of it. “like always. or maybe it’s gonna be twins this time. triplets. fuck, baby. you’re gonna look so beautiful.” 

he sobbed out as thick, warm cum began to flood him, making him clamp around you intuitively to keep everything inside—the unexpected pleasure buzzing through you sharply and making you grunt and jerk, another hot spurt of cum into his pretty womb. 

“if we don’t get triplets, we’re trying again,” toji mumbled, gaze hazy, almost cumdrunk, stomach flexing in anticipation as you poured the last of your seed into him with a soft sigh of agreement. 

RYŌMEN SUKUNA

“put your fuckin’ spawn in me?” the curse scoffed, craning his neck to glare at you with his bottom left eye. “‘s about damn time you asked.” 

you had him on all fours (sixes), back arched and hips raised like a proper omega presenting in heat, panting and shivering as you bent over his body with your lumbering own. you could feel the drool building up in your mouth from the mere anticipation of impregnating your mate, filling him to the brim with your eggs and cum, breeding little beasts into his eager, fertile womb. 

you leaned down to nuzzle his neck in affirmation, clumsily canting your hips backwards before pushing them until they rested flush against his plush ass, choking a needy whine out of him. his walls squeezed around you in retaliation, still needing to adjust to the all-too-big intrusion despite having done this hundreds of times, the heaviness of your cock resting against inside him almost a familiar comfort. 

“this better- not be just your rut talking,” sukuna muttered, a low growl reverbrating at the back of his throat, quietening after you let out a soothing croon of your own, tenderly licking over his mating bite. “i’ll f-fucking flay you alive if it is.” 

“no,” you denied, but you think you’d let him do it anyway. you’d do anything for him. kill, slaughter, guard him with your life. you were his, heart, body and soul, and you’d slit your own throat if you left him wanting anything for a split second. 

still struggling to find a rhythm with how much he was writhing and snarling underneath you, his mind unused to such open submission, with him freely exposing his back and neck to you, your claws being able to reach his stomach within a blink of an eye; and yet his body was practically vibrating with how much it yearned for the pleasure that came with yielding to you, having your big, clawed hands branding his body, the weight of your touch anchoring him to the present. 

fuck. children, sukuna thought, a sob dragged out of his lips, wrecked, as the head of your cock rammed against his throbbing sweet spot. little yous, cute and fanged and savage, with your bruising grip on his hips and the feral snarl of his name into the sweaty scent gland of his neck, swollen cock working in and out of him with utmost devotion at one single directive that he had given you only moments ago—to get him pregnant. 

what would they be like? would they inherit your gentleness? or the side of your angry beast? he wanted them all. wanted all that you could give him. wanted you to fill him up, make his tummy grow and grow, stuffed with your spawn and seed until he was positive he couldn’t take any more. to the edge of spilling, breaking, bursting. 

sukuna let out a throaty groan at that, head thrown back as he gave a full-body shudder, his first orgasm burning through him as his cocks spurted onto the nest in enthusiasm. “fuck,” he panted, slumping down in exhaustion, a protesting whine tumbling out as you continued to move in and out of him despite the sensitive fluttering of his hole. “a-asshole, can’t you see—hnngh.” 

you palmed at the fat of his ass, crooning as you heard your mate whimper, head ducked down to hide in the nest, almost shy. “it is okay,” you rumbled, forked tongue laving over his scent gland in comfort, the fragrant, oily tang of his scent making you muster out a low keen. he was so sweet, so perfect, as always. he deserved everything and more. “i will… take care of you.” 

and you meant every word of it. until he was bathed in the making of your children, your spawn, you wouldn’t stop. 

“sukuna,” you growled, rocking down into his waiting hole with meaning, wanting him to feel every girthy inch of you, the drag, the glide. “sukuna. sukuna.” 

“yes, i fucking get it,” he bit back a snarl, turning his head to let you catch a glimpse of his teary eyes. “don’t stop. fuck. it feels so good. you feel so fucking good.” 

he whined louder as you picked up your pace, nails ripping up the nest into near shreds, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care with the noises he was making, making the heat inside you grow ever hotter, making your hips move of their own accord, bucking into the warm, cosy chamber of his womb of their own accord. 

you could hear with every gurgle inside his tummy, his slick intermixing with all the precome that was squirting out of your cock in frenzied arousal, making a comfy nest for your length to settle into for mere moments before sliding out again. soon, it would become home for your eggs, a soft cushion for them to rest upon until it was ready for them to hatch. all of them, inside him. you would have no one else bear them. 

“sukuna,” you repeated, one clawed hand going around his torso to palm at his stomach, not quite full yet, but nonetheless bulging with your girthiness. “here, sukuna. please, please.” you pushed and kneaded at the swell of his tummy, strugging to tuck your claws away in the dizziness of heat and want clouding your instincts, but keeping them a safe distance from him and the seedbed of your spawn. “want to put them in here. make you full of me. want it so much.” 

“yeah,” sukuna choked out, tears sliding down his cheeks from all four of his eyes, chest heaving with breath as you took and took from him, the curb of his hole puffy from all the stretching. he could feel you growing, still, your knot starting heavy and thick from the base, and he held back a keen of his own, wanting nothing but for you to plug him up and make him your personal breeding grounds. just you, him, and whatever you would give him tonight and in the coming weeks of your rut, whether it be a nestful of eggs, or stomachfuls of your cum. 

he would take it all, like a good omega. he would do it for you. only for you. 

“breed me,” sukuna whimpered, two hands reaching back to clutch at your shoulders, your neck—any part of you that he could reach. “t-tired of seein’ an empty nest. want eggs. was waitin’ for you to fucking ask. wanted them for ages. fuck them into me.” you could feel his thighs trembling with the strain of holding his hips up for you, strength long gone, and he would have collapsed if it weren’t for you dutifully grasping them, making sure they were pressed flush against yours. 

you hissed out, low, soothing croons spilling out one after one as you heard the first pained cry coming from your mate, the sweet shape of his womb distending to make space for the first egg. “it is okay,” you whispered again and again throughout, lapping messily at his neck and cheek, a primal resemblance of a kiss. “you are okay.” 

sukuna allowed two of his eyes to flutter shut (the other two on alert, now that he had something to protect), two hands joining yours, resting against his now bloated stomach. relishing in the vibrations of your purrs and trills, and responding with some of his own. he could feel the shape of the egg inside him, scaled and ovoid and perfect. 

if this was the aftermath of pregnancy, if this was the outcome of hours and hours of lovemaking and feral snarls of pleasure into the crook of his neck, then sukuna would sacrifice anything, anything to feel this way again. this love, this tenderness, shaped by two hands cradling his soon-to-be newborn, the heartbeat of another pressed against his throbbing own. 

GETO SUGURU

suguru couldn’t believe it. you were breeding him in the fucking kitchen, of all places. 

“too much,” suguru sobbed, hot tears clinging to his lashes as he glanced back at you, bent over the kitchen counter. he could hear every slosh and squelch inside his sore cunt, as though your cock were trying to whip all the baby batter stuffed inside him into shape. “puh-please. i can’t, daddy. ‘s too much.” 

“nuh-uh, suguru. you can take it,” you gently reprimanded, one hand settling on his ass, squeezing the flesh lightly, making him jostle and whine. “you said you wanted a baby, right? daddy’s gonna give you a baby. now, we don’t tolerate going back on our word, do we, sweetheart?” 

“no,” the omega keened, hips trembling lightly as you impaled him again and again, thick girth making his folds part and lips stretch just to accommodate you. you could feel him shivering against you, evidently overstimulated, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop, with the piece of heaven that you were currently inside. tight, warm and extremely wet, a perfect, snug fit for your cock. you couldn’t wait to spill inside hm again, another load of cum inside his soaked womb, another chance of him getting pregnant. “but it’s too good, daddy, please…” 

“do you wanna stop, suguru? does it hurt?” you paused, eyebrows fixing together in concern. a whine of protest tore from his throat almost immediately, hips squirming as he tried to fuck himself back onto your cock. he shook his head rapidly, mouthing ‘please, no’ while blinking up at you tearily. “okay, okay…” 

he let out a sob of relief as you started moving again, despite how he could feel his toes clenching and hips shuddering with every overstimulating thrust, his core aching and swollen. he was practically relying on your firm grasp on his waist and the leverage he had on the counter to stay standing, the strength having long left his legs. but suguru had to endure. it was for the baby, of course. it would all be worth it in the end. 

“good boy, suguru. just one more, and then we’ll take a break, okay?” you murmured soothingly, your hot palm a comfort on the small of his back, steadying him and making sure he won’t fall, grounding him to the present of your lovemaking. “daddy’s gonna take good care of you, just like always.” you rolled your hips in slow circles, making sure not to go too fast, watching his slick cling onto your girth in a wet, shiny sheen of sticky cream. you groaned your pleasure as you bottomed out, feeling him clench around you in rapid flutters, small whines slipping out from your lover in tumbles. 

“okay,” he mumbled. “put a baby in me, daddy.” 

that sent a pleasure-addled shiver down your spine and right down your cock, pre squirting out from the head, making him croon happily as more of your warmth settled inside his womb. “little brat,” you scolded, a playful lilt to your tone, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, to which he shivered at. you couldn’t wait to get your hands on his swollen tummy once you were done with him. it was going to be round and full and perfect, pulsing with the perfect concoction of you and him. 

“faster,” suguru whined, “harder. want it s-so much, daddy. give me a baby.” 

you grunted in response, grip sliding onto his hips as you tugged him back onto your cock, the wet ‘pap’ of skin against skin ringing in the air, driving your length deeper into his welcoming hole with more force than before. he cried out as you sunk further into his sloppy pussy with another stroke of your shaft against his twitching, oversensitive walls, pulsating around you in rhythm. 

suguru’s fingers clawed down the marble, soft whines and uneven breaths punched out of swollen lips as he struggled to hold himself up with your harsh, increasing thrusts, refusing to slump downright onto the table even as you pounded into him like you were pestle, and he was mortar. 

“always biting off more than you can chew,” you huffed, palms smoothing over the thick of his hips and down to his round, plush ass, before giving it a little slap for good measure—and he whined out sharply, shuddering with arousal from the streak of pain. “you never learn, do you, baby?” 

“‘s a lot,” suguru bit down on his lip, holding in the sob building at the back of his throat. the pleasure was simply too good, every strike of your bulbous head against his throbbing sweet spot setting his nerve ends on fire and flames, lust clouding his vision with how your hands were branding him as your own—your hips never once pausing in their mission to impregnate him even as he whined and sobbed and begged. 

“but it’s okay. y’can do a-anything you want to me,” he mumbled, pausing to rub at his glossy eyes before peering at you from over his shoulder. “‘s long as you make me pregnant, ‘kay?” 

it was at that moment that you realised, suguru with baby fever was a very dangerous thing. with a low, almost primal snarl into the bruised skin of his neck, you pulled out swiftly and flipped your omega around, sitting him on the counter just as he glanced down at you with wide, stunned eyes, a petulant whine on the edge of being uttered before you silenced him with a kiss. 

“daddy,” suguru whined against your lips, clumsily grabbing at your shoulders, even as you mouthed messily at him, the kiss more tongue and spit than anything, feral and a little violent with his claws now gaining purchase in raking down your back. “‘nough kissing. put it back in. want your cock in me.”  

lips parting with a wet smack, you guided your cock to rut against his sopping folds, making sure he could feel it, all of it—the hot, filthy drag of your girth against his needy cunt, stroking and teasing but never entering. he gawked up at you in betrayal, whining needily and nudging his hips forward, trying to entice you to fuck him, a frown pulling at the corners of his lips when it didn’t work. 

it hit him, then, just what you were waiting for. 

“‘m sorry, i forgot—” he rushed over his words, arms slung onto your shoulders in a half-cage, leaning forward to kiss your cheek sweetly. “please, daddy.” 

“good,” you hummed. maybe you spoiled him a little too much, but now he sat, shivering and obedient, your cock spearing his cunt in one strong thrust. in this new position you were able to reach way deeper, the tapered tip delicately kissing the opening of his cervix, making your mate sob and croon with the fullness of it all. 

“now hold on tight for me, okay?” you whispered into the sweaty curve of his neck, to which he nodded pliantly to with a pout, “‘cause daddy’s not gonna stop until he puts a baby in your tummy.” 

masterlist!

[midnite-c6]

Omg so I just LOVED the fics that you wrote about thanos and namgyu soo I wanted to ask can you like write more fics about them in like threesome degrading tf out of us so much that we cannot even think of anything or maybe like a second part for timid!reader THAT ONE WAS AMAZING!!!! keep up w your work btw its really good 😭🙏🏻

help thank you😭😭 honestly i love writing abt them i jus.. meow...

thanos & nam-gyu imagine pt. 4!! 🤤

warnings: 18+ DARK content, drugging, dubcon (read at ur own riskk!!)

they both believe you can't fight for yourself since you're so quiet, so they do their best to keep you safe!! they're so kind despite their nature!! you think to urself..., and despite the way they used your body after the six legged race, you still stick with them since they helped you in mingle too!! honestly, thanos and nam-gyu would've thought you'd be getting away from them after that incident, so by you staying, they've confirmed they've got you right in their trap!!

thanos looks up from his food, his eyes lighting up when he sees you "señorita?" he tilts his head, "i don't have any other group to eat with.." you say, looking down at your feet, "nooo! i know what it is!" he nudges nam-gyu's shoulder, "you're here for more aren't you?" he says with that smirk again, dramatically gasping. "what..no.." you weren't like that, you swear! nam-gyu laughed "shit, she's just using our bodies, man!" you quickly shake your head "no!" nam-gyu tilts his head "when did you learn to say no?" thanos stands up, getting closer to you, "listen here, beautiful, we'll do whatever you want, sure.. you're the one in-charge." he smiled 'innocently', leaning in to whisper in your ear "c'mere after lights out, kay?"

nsfw below.. (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)/

"you really are a fucking whore." thanos quietly whispers into your ear as he slams in and out of you, your back pressed against his chest, your moans being muffled by his hand, it was a good thing thanos' bed was closer to the ground and that the players above him were already dead, but you know the other players could still hear the faint squeaking of his mattress. "of course you'd listen like a slut, coming here, infact, you were excited for this. hmm?" why DID you go there anyway? ..maybe it did feel good? but poor you! his thrusts weren't giving you any mercy at all.

"i bet.. you don't have any shame at all. you're quietness is just an act.." nam-gyu whispered aswell, with his body infront of you, his hands exploring every inch of your skin, painfully pinching your nipples and biting your neck as you rub your hand in and out of his cock. "you're practically begging for it." "n-n.." you couldn't speak back because of that purple-haired addict's hand!

"wait.. fuuuck, you're sucking me in like crazy, you're gonna cut my dick off, god." thanos whined, putting in two fingers inside your mouth, the taste of his fingers all over your tongue.

"y'knoww.. so fucking funny how she's volunteered to be our personal ..stress toy." nam-gyu's hand find it's way to thanos' necklace filled with ecstacy, he grabs a pill, his attention back on you "we truly thank you for that.. are you proud of your services, freak?" he says mockingly just to spite you, his other hand grabs thanos' hand muffling your mouth. "let go, dude." "she's gonna scream," "nah, nah, she won't. she doesn't wanna die does she?" you whined, shaking your head. "good, slut." nam-gyu smiled, taking the pill he had in his hand and putting it in his mouth. thanos' takes off his hand, his middle and ring finger covered in your saliva as he now places it on your clit, rubbing sloppily. and before you could make any noise, nam-gyu slams his mouth against yours, making you swallow the pill of ecstacy. his tongue tasting your mouth, swallowing each moan escaping your lips. nam-gyu pulls away from your mouth, forcing it to open just to spit inside.

with all the pleasure they were giving despite the mean words, you camee:( your legs were shaking like crazy! "hey! no fair, bitch! i didn't get to cum yet." thanos was frustrated, yet you whimpered in response, you didn't mean to cum!!. "but.. just means we'll be here for muuuuch longer, baby. ya' can't complain, you know you're a whore who can't live without us." thanos didn't lie, your cunt was throbbing and overstimulated by both of their cocks in and out of you. he also didn't lie about how you wouldn't be alive without them, it's true, they saved you anyway, guess you gotta thank them for keeping you safe. ♡

this is pretty long, im srry guyss!! only putting in what my mind is thinking of atm AHHAAH 3somes are so hard to write 😭😭😿🙏🏻

[aajjks]

Stuck With You. (m)

synopsis. Imagine being stuck in a room with a walking nightmare who really wants to fuck you.

genre: crack, 18+.

pairings: jungkook x fem reader.

warnings: stûck în â rôôm tôgêthêr trôpê, crîngê jûngkôôk, hôrnÿ jûngkôôk, tsûndêrê ÿn, sêxûâl jôkês, ônê bêd trôpê, hê jûst wânts tô hît ît wîth ÿôû ând lîvê hâppîlÿ êvêr âftêr.

note. If this flops- oh well. But if this becomes a hit, I will make it a series hehe, gif credits to owner, found it on Pinterest. OMG ENJOY!

You are absolutely going to lose your mind. Not because you’re stuck in a room—

no, that part isn’t even the problem. It’s who you’re stuck with.

“Don’t look so mad, babe. You’ll get wrinkles,” Jungkook says, leaning lazily against the wall with his arms crossed, looking every bit like he owns the place.

His black t-shirt clings to his annoyingly perfect body, and his smug grin stretches wider every time he catches your glare.

“You’re the reason we’re stuck in here, you idiot,” you snap, pacing the room. “Who even breaks a doorknob while trying to open the door?”

“It wasn’t my fault!” he protests, throwing his hands up. “The thing was loose—like, super loose. I barely touched it.”

You stop pacing and point at him. “You yanked it like you were in a strongman competition!”

Jungkook shrugs, like being accused of destroying things is just another Tuesday for him. “Maybe. But hey, at least we’ve got… each other?” His grin turns into that stupid wink he loves so much.

You groan and flop onto the bed. It creaks under your weight, and you make a face because this feels like the start of a very bad rom-com. “I can’t believe this. I have work tomorrow.”

Jungkook leans against the bedpost, towering over you with that annoyingly pretty face of his. “Relax, princess. I’m sure someone will fix it soon. Meanwhile…” His eyes trail down your body in that blatant, shameless way that only Jungkook can pull off. “…you’re looking pretty comfortable.”

“Stop staring at my tits, Jeon.” You cross your arms over your chest, even though you know it won’t stop him.

This is seriously ridiculous.

“I wasn’t,” he lies, biting back a grin.

“You were.”

“Okay, I was,” he admits, laughing. He flops down onto the bed beside you, making the mattress bounce slightly. He’s so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. “But you can’t really blame me. They’re right there.”

You grab a pillow and smack him with it, hard enough to knock some of the smugness out of him. He lets out an exaggerated groan, clutching his chest like you’ve mortally wounded him. “Abuse! yn, you’re abusing me!”

“You deserve it!” you say, your voice rising with every word.

you like being evil.

“Oh, come on.” He shifts closer, so close his shoulder brushes against yours. His voice drops, teasing and low. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

You scoff. “I’d celebrate.”

Jungkook gasps dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Cold. That was cold, yn.” He shakes his head, his messy hair falling into his eyes. “You’d be crying without me to entertain you.”

“I’d cry tears of joy.”

“Sure, sure,” he says, his grin widening. Then he leans in, his voice dropping again. “But… if you’re gonna cry, you might as well do it on my shoulder, babe.”

You hate the way your stomach flips at his tone. His big, stupid eyes are focused on you, and for once, they’re not looking at your chest.

You roll your eyes to hide how flustered you feel. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible,” he fires back, leaning in even closer. His breath tickles your skin, and you shove him away before he gets any ideas.

“Don’t even think about it.”

“What?” he says, feigning innocence as he lays back on the bed, his arms tucked behind his head. “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“You’re always thinking something,” you say, narrowing your eyes.

“Maybe,” he admits, his lips twitching up into a smirk. “But if I told you, you’d probably hit me again.”

“You’re not wrong.”

He laughs, loud and carefree, and it’s so annoying that you can’t help but smile a little.

Even though he’s so fucking annoying.

Time passes slower than it should. You’re lying back now, one arm thrown over your face to block out the overhead light, trying to focus on literally anything other than the fact that you’re stuck in a room with Jeon Jungkook.

“yn,” Jungkook says after a while, his tone softer now.

“What?” you ask without looking at him.

“I’m bored.”

You sigh. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“I don’t know… entertain me?”

You pull your arm off your face and give him a deadpan look. “What am I, a clown?”

His grin returns, and you immediately regret your choice of words. “You could put on a show for me, babe.”

You groan. “Shut up, Jeon.”

“Or,” he says, his voice dipping lower as he rolls onto his side to face you, “we could play a game.”

You narrow your eyes. “What kind of game?”

“Truth or dare.”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be boring.”

“I’m not playing truth or dare with you, Jungkook. I know how your brain works.”

He pouts, and it’s so absurdly dramatic that you almost laugh. Almost. “You’re no fun, yn.”

“Good. I don’t want to be fun.”

Jungkook sits up suddenly, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Fine. Then let’s make a bet.”

“A bet?” you repeat, suspicious.

“Yeah.” His grin turns wicked. “If we’re still stuck in here after another hour, you have to go on a real date with me.”

Your jaw drops. “What?”

“You heard me.” He shrugs, like this is the most normal thing in the world. “Take it or leave it, babe.”

You sit up, crossing your arms. “And what happens if we get out of here before the hour’s up?”

Jungkook’s grin doesn’t falter. “Then I’ll stop making inappropriate jokes for a week.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re lying.”

“Scout’s honor,” he says, holding up three fingers.

You stare at him for a long moment, weighing your options. Then, finally, you sigh. “Fine. But you’re going to regret this when we’re out of here in twenty minutes.”

Jungkook just smirks, his confidence radiating off him in waves. “We’ll see, babe.”

And as much as you hate to admit it, you kind of hope you lose.

You stare at him, his stupid is grin practically glowing in the dim light of the room. He’s lying on his side now, looking way too comfortable, while you’re still sitting upright like you’re waiting for a rescue team.

“You seem a little tense,” he says, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that always makes your eye twitch.

“I wonder why,” you deadpan, gesturing to the locked door. “Maybe it’s because I’m stuck in here with a man-child who thinks ‘truth or dare’ is an appropriate solution to boredom.”

Jungkook props his head up on one hand, his biceps flexing in a way that feels intentional. “I’m just saying, if we’re stuck here, we might as well make it fun. And let’s face it, yn, no one else makes you laugh like I do.”

You snort, leaning back against the headboard. “You don’t make me laugh. You make me want to scream.”

“Same thing,” he says with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t fight the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. You hate that he’s right.

As much as you want to throttle him half the time, the other half? You’re too busy laughing at his ridiculousness to care.

“Okay,” you say suddenly, sitting up straighter. “Let’s play your stupid game.”

Jungkook perks up immediately, his eyes lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” you say, crossing your arms.

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Do you think I’m hot?”

You blink at him, stunned by his audacity, before letting out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“It’s a valid question,” he says, his smirk growing. “Come on, yn. Be honest.”

You narrow your eyes at him, your cheeks heating against your will. “Fine. You’re… decent-looking.”

He’s very hot, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Decent-looking?” He clutches his chest like you’ve just stabbed him. “You’re breaking my heart here.”

“Good,” you say, fighting back a grin.

“Your turn,” he says, recovering quickly. “Truth or dare?”

You pause, considering your options. “Dare.”

His smirk turns dangerous, and you immediately regret your decision. “I dare you to sit on my lap.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on, it’s just a dare,” he says, his tone deceptively innocent. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I murder you in cold blood, for starters.”

Jungkook laughs, leaning back against the pillows like he’s got all the time in the world. “You’re no fun.”

“You keep saying that like it’s a bad thing.”

He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It is when you’re this cute.”

You throw a pillow at his face, and he catches it effortlessly, laughing as he tosses it back at you.

Another twenty minutes pass, and you’re lying side by side now, both of you staring at the ceiling.

“You know,” Jungkook says, his voice softer now, “this isn’t so bad.”

You turn your head to look at him, your brows furrowing. “Being locked in a room?”

“Being stuck with you,” he says, and for once, there’s no teasing in his voice.

Your stomach does a weird little flip, and you quickly look away, your cheeks heating. “You’re such a sap.”

You Kind of like it, but…

“Only for you, babe.”

You groan, shoving him with your shoulder. “Stop calling me babe.”

“Why?” he asks, rolling onto his side to face you. “Does it make your heart race?”

“No,” you lie, glaring at him.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer. “Liar.”

“Idiot.”

“Hot,” he counters, his grin widening.

You don’t dignify that with a response.

Eventually, the tension breaks when the doorknob jiggles, and a muffled voice calls from the other side.

“Are you guys okay in there?”

You spring off the bed like it’s on fire. “Yes! Get us out!”

Jungkook stays lying down, his arms tucked behind his head, looking as relaxed as ever. “Take your time!” he calls out.

You glare at him, your heart pounding for reasons you’d rather not analyze. “Get up, Jeon.”

“Nah, I’m good here.”

“Get. Up.”

He sighs, sitting up with an exaggerated groan. “Fine. But only because you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

You grab the nearest pillow and whack him one last time, just for good measure.

[amorchai]

Can we get some hwang junho boyfriend head cannons? •`ヮ´• This man NEEDS more attention I swear

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍 𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃.

────────────

pairing(s): hwang jun ho x reader

words: 346

warnings/tags: established relationship, he's so boyfriend it hurts, if you squint you can see how obsessed i am with his back.

────────────

➵ mans is protective, let’s get that over with.

➵ not in an overbearing way. he just needs to make sure you’re safe.

➵ coming to pick you and friends up if you’re out late.

➵ if you’re out together and it’s late and you’re tired he’ll bend down so casually so you can climb on his back and get carried.

➵ he’s quiet but attentive, whenever you’re talking he has a little smile on his face, listening to every word you have to say but also getting distracted over the way your eyes shine or the dimples in your cheeks.

➵ he works late a lot at the station but will drop by yours for the night with a tired smile and tons of kisses pressed against your skin.

➵ junho gets nightmares so sometimes you awake to him abruptly sitting up and heavy breathing and he would jump from the gentle touch to his shoulder.

➵ it takes him time but you’re able to calm him down until he’s practically back to sleep, this time on top of you with his head tucked into your neck.

➵ the early morning type, he’s likely to go early hour jogs and have breakfast ready before you’ve gotten out of bed. sleepy eyes as you trudge in pyjamas to where he stands freshly showered and dressed.

➵ whenever you’re out and a guy tries to chat you up, they will back off from junho’s look alone. eyes intense and watching, expression giving nothing away.

➵ isn’t afraid of pda, will hold your hand at any given moment available and also occasionally kisses it. will also kiss your cheek and temple when leaving you.

➵ a+ cuddler award goes to him, his broad back and shoulders a perfect mattress when you cuddle into his chest. his hands are always holding something, the back of your head with soft strokes with his thumb, tracing your arms or comfortably on your ass.

➵ this man will worship the ground you walk on and be irretrievably devoted to being the best boyfriend he can to you. whenever you’re around him, you know you’re safe.

────────────

amorchai masterlist . taglist

amorchai © ─ all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/copying will be tolerated.

[leehsngs]

prompt: you intentionally rile him up to get him to be a little rougher with you.

pairing: park jongseong x f!reader

genre: oneshot

warnings: smut [mdni!!], unprotected sex (put a rubber on it!!), degredation, praise, p in v, pet names, provoked mean dom!jay, slight bratty!reader.

disc. lowercase intended. not proofread. @choisanswife this is for you shawty 🫵🏻😼

now it’s not like your sex life with jay wasn’t absolute heaven on earth, but some nights you wish he would be just a little rougher with you. so tonight of all nights, you decided it’d be a good idea to poke and prod at his nerves just to see how far you could take his patience.

“y/n, not now.” he uttered while batting your hand away gently. that only caused you to groan.

“oh, come on, jay. it’s not like i’m asking for much. it’s just.. you took so long getting me to cum that i felt like i was dying.” it was a dramatic statement on your part, but you could tell it was getting under his skin and that’s exactly what you wanted.

his brow darted up as he slowly turned to you, a slight mumble leaving him, “oh really?”

and the next thing you know? you’re bent over the back of the couch with nothing but your panties around your ankles and his cock buried deep inside you. there was nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and your pathetic whines of pleasure.

“this is what you wanted, right? to be my little fuck toy? hm?”, he grabbed you by your throat and pulled you up off the back of the couch, hovering his lips by your ear so you could hear every grunt that left him.

you nodded because that was all you could do. he was finally being rough with you and you loved every second of it.

your hand reached behind you to grip onto his waist because you wanted to feel him, wanted to let him now just how well he was doing. he knew that though. if it wasn’t for the way you clenched around him and the whimpers that left you then maybe he’d be a little curious, but he knew.

“f- fuck.. baby, i’m cumming-!” and that was all jay needed to relentlessly pound into you even harder than he was before, tightening his grip on your throat and wrapping a hand around to circle your sensitive bud at the same speed he was thrusting.

“go on, pretty slut, cum for me. make a mess on my cock.”

that was enough to push your over the edge, your body trembling as the coil in your stomach snapped and you came all over his cock just the way he wanted.

he looked at your slumped over figure with a chuckle, pulling out of you right as he leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, “let’s get you cleaned up, angel. you were so good for me.”

“i love you.”

“i love you more, darling.”

despite how bratty you could be, he never left you unsatisfied. never once and that was something you absolutely loved about him.

© leehsngs. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, or translate my works.

author’s note. i literally thought of this idea at 4 am due to personal experiences rip. this is also my first time writing something like this so feedback is very much wanted and appreciated! hope you all enjoyed!

[endearng]

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze,  “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness. 

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud. 

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

[baby-yongbok]

Say it again

Bang Chan x afab!Reader

✦ Genre - Smut [MDNI] - Established Relationship ✦ Word Count - 2.6k ✦ Summary - You're Chan's princess, he'd give you anything you'd ever wanted but after a drunken slip up he decides to make you wait for what you want for once. ✦ CW -  Piss, Soft!Dom Chan, Edging, Dirty talk, Size kink?, Degradation? (towards chan but like... he asked for it? you'll see.), Unprotected sex & Creampie (Wrap it up), Reader is called Princess, baby, nasty girl/ naughty, - Again, this is a piss kink fic. ✦ Masterlist ✦

You’re Chan’s Princess. His sweet girl who he’d sell his left foot for if you asked. You’re a spoiled brat. Well, that’s what his friends say anyway.

 There isn’t a day that the group can pass up on an opportunity to poke and prod at your boyfriend for pampering you. They joke that you’ve never heard Chan say the word no and you just smile - It’s kinda true.

Your boyfriend just laughs and rolls his eyes, “She deserves it.” He’d state simply, confidently. He’d give you a wink and proceed to peel your orange or bring you a drink and let you eat half of his food. It was sweet, he was sweet. And then you messed it up. 

It’s nothing too drastic, just some tipsy teasing one night a week ago. You said something along the lines or Chan having a small dick or whatever. You honestly can’t remember but Chan does. It lives fresh in his mind and motivated him to change things up a bit. 

That night he brought you home, cooed sweet nothings in your ear and undressed you like a gentleman would. He kissed down your neck, up your thighs, over your cunt and lapped at the drenched flesh like a man starved. He built you up, up, up before pulling back and letting it all melt away.

You whimpered as he stood from his knees, his frame towered over you and you reached out to him, silently asking for more, “Channie.” You whined but he didn’t smile, he didn’t touch you, not like he usually would. He just leaned in and hovered over your naked form. 

“Next time you wanna tell a joke, make sure that it’s funny, Princess.” The harsh rasp of his voice made your cheeks flush, adding to what the alcohol had caused. With a chaste kiss to your temple he pulled back and left you dizzy, tipsy and wanting more. 

This treatment went on for a week.  

He spent his time building you up just to let you fall and repeated it the next day. He’d get himself off right in front of your face, jerking his pretty cock with you on your knees before him. He found himself smiling at the way your needy gaze would track his every move. The sanguine glint in your eye only shined brighter with each grunt and moan. You would whine, beg quietly or silently in hopes that your voice could convince him to finally give in but you always end up starving for more. 

“How long are you going to do this to me?” You whine four days in, looking up at him with glassy eyes as he redresses. “I’m sorry for what I said, I was tipsy.”

“I accept your apology.” He kneels down to your level, taking your hand in his. “But you still can’t cum.” He brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it before standing and changing the subject like he didn’t just push you a bit closer to the edge of insanity. 

You’ve never been this desperate in your life. 

You’ve never wanted Chan more than you did when you’d stand at the sink and press your thighs together with the hopes that you could get some semblance of relief. He went from edging you to teasing you to nothing at all and now you find yourself missing the miserable routine of being close to release just to have it snatched away. 

Chan caught on to your attempts at self pleasure quicker than you thought he would. He would watch, stare at your thighs and look for that slight tremble or pulse in your muscle then he’d slap your thigh and smile. He’s enjoying this.

And part of you is too. 

Tonight marks a week of this punishment. You’re home alone while Chan works late at the studio which is rare for a Sunday but he locked into a track and got stuck perfecting it. You text him a sweet goodnight and warn him to get home before the snowstorm starts. He texts back, warning you to behave. 

It’s three in the morning when Chan tiptoes into the apartment. He maneuvers around furniture and discarded objects to ensure that you stay asleep. He grabs the food you left him then heads for the shower to soak the chill of the storm out of his bones.

He’s exhausted, spent, but then he sees you. The walk to his dresser gets cut short when he gets a glimpse of your sprawled out frame. You're so cute and peaceful in your nightgown, with one leg hiked up and bent over a pillow, his pillow. 

Chan steps closer, looking over your relaxed body and taking in the way your smooth skin disappears under the soft fabric of your gown. For a second he thinks that you really do look like a princess. Prim and pretty and all his. 

He climbs into bed behind you, his towel slips down to reveal more of the firm cut of his hip and he presses into your backside. You push back in a stir and Chan has to bite his tongue not to moan. He needs you.

“Babygirl.” He drapes his arm over your stomach and pulls you back into the growing tent of the towel. His lips brush over the soft skin of your neck and he peppers gentle kisses across the flesh. 

“Baby.” He whispers and you hum. His fingers start to trace shapes into the clothed skin of your stomach and you sigh. “Chan?” You mumble, still mostly asleep. 

“Mhm.” His hand on your stomach trails down to lift the hem of your nightgown. “Do me a favor and open your legs, hun. Stay asleep, just let me make you cum.”

The indulgent glide of his hand up your flesh makes you shiver awake. You blink your heavy lids and sigh a soft moan at his touch. “Promise?” Chan kisses behind your ear. How could he say no to a voice as sweet as yours?

“Promise, now open up for me.” He pushes his covered cock against your ass and you push back with a moan and then you gasp. Your pleasure is interrupted by the pressure of your full bladder, it sends a sudden shock that makes you squirm. “Gotta pee, Channie.”

You attempt to sit up with the intention of rushing off to the bathroom real quick but Chan’s arm circles your stomach again, keeping you trapped against him. “Yeah? Gotta pee?” The kisses on your neck get firmer, his subtle grinding picks up and his hand pushes softly against your lower abdomen.

“Chan.” You moan in protest but it does little to stop him. The pang of urgency your body is sending you gets stronger with his subtle push and not so subtle grind of his hips. “I’ll be quick.”

He smiles against you, moving his hand back down to lift the hem of your gown up over the swell of your ass. “I know, hun.” His towel gives way and it’s his bare cock pressing against you now. “You wanna cum, right? Want me to give you what you’ve been begging for?”

Your body betrays you, shuddering as arousal starts to gush between your shaking thighs. You press them together in an attempt to hold your bladder. “Then you’ll stay here and let me give you what you wanted, won’t you? You’ll be my good girl.”

Chan’s hand moves between your legs, parting your plush thighs and firmly brushing a calloused finger over your clit. The contact makes you keen. “I can’t hold it. Can’t, please let me-”

“Pick one, Do you wanna pee or do you want to cum?” He kisses your shoulder and you go quiet. What do you do?

 “I’ll make a mess” Chan chuckles at your concern then licks his hand. He reaches between your bodies and tugs at his thick cock. “Do I sound like I mind a mess?” He slides his length between your thighs, pressing it against your heat. “If you don’t want me to make you cum I can stop. Just say the word.”

The thought of asking him to stop translates as insanity to you. He drags his hips back and starts fucking your thighs. He grinds against and fucks up over your clenching cunt. His tip gets caught on your clit and your chest vibrates with a deep moan. This is the most he’s touched you in days. It’s dizzying and Chan makes it worse when he leans in, lips brushing the shell of your ear and whispers. 

“Fuck, I missed you, baby.” His hand comes up to your chin and he turns your head just enough to take in the way your features twist in pleasure. “Tell me what you want.”

“More.” Your mouth was faster than your mind. “Yeah? More? Wanna piss all over the sheets? That’s how desperate you are?” You’re nodding, pressing your thighs together when his hips pick up pace. You don’t care anymore. You need him. 

“Nasty, baby. So fucking naughty.” The tip of his cock rubs over your slick clit with each thrust. Your body trembles with the sweet satisfaction of finally feeling pleasure and Chan lets you have that for a second or two before his grip on your hip becomes bruising.

 “What was it that you said that night? Something about me having a small dick, right?” He’s breathing heavily in your ear and you shudder, nodding mindlessly as you drift farther and farther from reality. “Look at me.” 

The movement is reluctant but you follow his request. Your low-lidded gaze meets his and your heart beats double time. “Is that what you said?”

“I’m sorry.” You whimper but that’s not what he wanted. He presses down on your bladder harder and you gasp, “Answer the question.”

The moan that echoes from you is unbecoming. It’s far from prim but very pretty. “Yes, I said it.. I’m sorry.” It’s less of a confession and more of a desperate plea but Chan accepts it with a hum.

 “You wanna stand by that? Wanna tell me how small I am?” He presses a bit harder and you groan, breaking eye contact and shaking your head into your pillow. “C’mon, call my cock pathetic, hun.”

The tone of his voice in contrast to his actions is as sweet as cinnamon. “C’mon.” You open your mouth to speak but nothing but half a whimper and a huff of hot air escapes. “Follow the rules to cum.”

“Y-you’re cock, is pathetic.” Chan pulls his hips back. “Gimme more, come on.” His pressure on your stomach lets up and you can breathe again. You inhale and exhale with a shake before giving him what he asked for.

“Your… cock is so pathetic. So small that you never make me c-cum - Chan…” His hips push forward, his cock catches at your entrance and bullies its way into your fluttering cunt. The words you’ve uttered are debunked in real time. 

“Pathetic, yeah?” He groans, fingers splaying over your bare stomach. “Y-yeah, I can’t even feel… feel it.” Chan smiles, pressing his hips firmer into you and successfully pulling a scream from your chest.

 You can feel the dam threatening to break, small trickles wet your thighs and you try your best to chase your orgasm while holding the mess but you can’t seem to find a way to get one without the other. 

“Chan, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I- I..” You’re not entirely sure what you’re apologizing for anymore. You feel desperate to cum, to empty your bladder, for anything and everything. Your boyfriend smiles behind you, finding your begging stutter cute.

“Nah, stick with what you said, baby. Can’t even feel it, right?” The steady rocking of his hips turns into shallow thrusts that actually do have you tearing up. 

Chan picks up on your attempt to hold back and presses harder, drilling his hips in and out of you and making the splinter of pleasure and pressure fuse in a way that you’ve never experienced before. 

“C-chan - Channie..” Your bladder leaks, wetting your thighs, the sheets, him. But you finally get to cum. You keen and he eats it all up. He tips your head back, admiring the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip before your jaw hangs slack with gasps. 

“That’s it, baby. I got you, just fall apart for me.” He wraps his arm around you, reaching down to rub harsh circles into your clit. You’re soaked, shaking through the mix of sweet releases. “Messy cunt.” He groans, pushing your thighs further apart and spanking your clit. 

You give him the sounds he was looking to hear with a shudder that makes him hiss. “C’mere.” 

 He pulls out and positions you on all fours over the messy sheets. You grab your pillow and bury your face in it just as he slides back in. He lets his head fall back with an elated sigh. A lazy slap on your ass follows and you whimper, “God, I missed my girl so much.” 

He moves slow and shallow, watching the way his dick disappears into you with each tremor and flutter your body offers. “Just like that.” He coos, picking up pace slowly but not slow enough for you to adjust. 

The new angle is deeper than before but it makes you scream all the same. “That’s a lot of noise for a small dick, huh?” A cocky breathy laugh rumbles through him but the pull in his abdomen cuts it short. Or maybe it was the way your cunt squeezed him as your second orgasm snuck up your legs. 

“Let it out, pretty girl. Gimme more, c’mon.” You break all over again. The last of you tried to hold wets his thighs and your pussy practically gushes around him. 

“Pissing on me again? Nasty girl.” He groans, seconds from falling apart. He reaches around and slaps your clit again and again, moaning at the messy wet sound it makes.

 “Gonna let me make a m-mess too? Gonna let me fill you up?” Each word is punctuated with a thrust until he leans forward, pressing into you while his eyes roll back and muscles tense. 

“Baby, ba - fuck… baby.” His voice gradually fades into a whisper until all you hear is him panting over you. The cool wetness of his thighs is a shivering contrast to the warmth of you. 

“Chan…” You whimper, failing to complete the rest of your plea. “Sh sh sh, you’re good, baby.”

“I’m sorry.” This time you know that you’re apologizing for the mess. He leans over you, running his hand through your hair and rubbing at your scalp. “There's no need to be sorry. I wanted it.”

“Really?” You turn your head, trying to catch his gaze with your glassy one. 

“Yes, really.” He kisses over your back with a sweet hum to both comfort you and distract you from the pressure of him moving again.

“You did so well for me.” You open your mouth to speak but a pathetic stutter escapes instead. Chan hums, rocking his hips into you and gently and running his hands up your back to soothe you.

“Look at me, princess.” You blink up at him and he coos, “You’ll do it again for me, yeah?”

His hips snap and you nearly do too. “Say it.”

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[undercoveravenger]

Room in The Den

Pairing: Hybrid!141 x Male!Reader

A/N: Intended as an early-stages poly relationship, but could also be interpreted as platonic.

-----

It’s a bullshit new law that does it. Some asshole lawmakers deciding that just because there’s some small fraction of animal DNA in them that they can’t do their jobs right without “an actual person” watching over them that gets you assigned to the 141.

Sure, joining a team that elite is an honor, but it’s something you’d have wanted by your own merits, not just because someone who’d never seen real combat in their lives thought your new colleagues needed someone fully human to reel them in. 

You’ve seen their numbers - they don’t need you and you’re sure as hell they don’t want you encroaching on the bond that their experiences have fostered between them. That’s why you come in expecting the animosity. 

You were right. Captain Price is cordial enough, he shakes your hand without crushing it and says he’s eager to work with you but his smile doesn’t meet his eyes and the terseness in his voice tells you he’s just saying it to be polite. He’s run this task force long enough to know how to do his job without you there. His Lieutenant doesn’t even grant you that. The sergeants seem wary and you don't blame them but you know that it’s better to be someone like you that knows their worth than one of the holier-than-thou bureaucrats they’d been considering assigning to this post, so you’ll just have to try to find your place in the team.

-----

Soap is the easiest to win over. He finds you in the gym one night long after everyone else had retired back to their bunks, ripping through reps at the bench press without a spotter. He’s thrown for a minute, used to being the only one up this late since the rest of the squad is mostly diurnal, but he’s content enough to admire the way your compression shirt is darkened with sweat and to watch your muscles shift with each movement. Can feel himself drooling a little at the spice of your scent, heady and masculine and tempting enough to make him want to bite.

 He wonders a little, whether you’d be able to keep up with him and he can’t help the steady pace his tail picks up behind him as he decides he’s going to find out.

You’ve got your eyes closed and earbuds in like you’re the only one for miles and yet you still seem to sense him as he drops his bag and moves to stand near you. 

“S’dangerous,” he says as you re-rack your weights and pull an earbud out, “To lift without someone to spot you.” 

You nod, it’s one of the biggest rules of gym safety for a reason, but you’d never been great with rules. “Never much liked askin’ for help,” you admit after a minute. “Didn’t wanna bother anyone.”

He hums, and you don’t feel judged, just understood, “Well, you’re stuck with the lot o’ us now, whether you like it or not,” he grins, wolfish and happy, and moves to stand at the head of the bench to spot you, “Bother away.” And just like that, you’ve got yourself a new workout buddy.

It’s like he’s your self appointed shadow after that, waiting outside your door every morning with a freshly made protein shake in each hand, one for each of you. He’ll get all whiny about it too if you say no, pointy wolf ears drooping and tail falling still behind him. He looks like he’s about to cry until you finally relent and take yours from him (he perks up right away every time, the little faker). Eventually you learn that it’s easier to just take it from him without the fight and let him ramble on about whatever he’d seen on tiktok the night before as he walks you to your office.

He joins you for meals too, complains about the amount of food on your plate and scoops bites off his own plate to supplement yours despite your protests. His Ma had always told him growin’ up that he had to eat plenty of protein if he wanted to be big and strong and protect his pack, so he’s just tryin’ to do the same for you and doesn’t understand why you feel the need to argue about sharing food.

You’re part of his pack now, and Soap’ll be damned before he neglects one of his packmates, just don’t be surprised if he starts bullying his way into your room at night too - he’s a cuddler.

-----

Gaz warms up to you next, though he always blames the blood loss if someone asks what won him over. He’d joined you and Soap for your evening workouts a few times, and grinned at each other when you passed in the halls, but it’s not until the morning after a brutal op that he really starts to see you as part of the team.

It’s early. Barely three-thirty in the morning when the heli touches down and maybe only four when the squad tumbles through the doors but you’re right there with the rest of them. Price is already headed down to the administrative wing for a debrief and Ghost has a snoring Soap over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes on his way to the barracks, and then there’s just the two of you.

You’ve got one of Gaz’s arms over your shoulder and an arm heavy around his waist, tucked snug under his bleeding wing, taking most of his weight as you help him limp through the halls. You hang a left instead of the right that would lead to the infirmary, instead guiding him into your office. You sweep whatever paperwork had been on your desk aside, and help him up to sit, legs hanging off one side of your desk and wings cascading over the other.

You’re quick to shrug off the outer layer of your tactical gear and cast it aside, pulling out a sizable med kit from under your desk and settling on your knees in front of him. You ask him if it’s okay, before you help ease his cargo pants down enough to get to the wound on his thigh and he finds himself taken aback since their usual medic would just muscle them off or cut them away to get at it. You wait until he nods to start tugging at the fabric, fingers careful and intent as you work the material free from the torn flesh. 

He watches as your gaze flickers over the wound and you reach for what you need without even looking. He’s been told his eyes are intense before, it’s normal for bird of prey hybrids, perhaps especially so for golden eagle hybrids like him, but he’s never quite understood the way people describe being pinned in place by his gaze until now. 

You work fast, sterilizing, stitching, and then bandaging his wound with a speed that would rival the military doctors in the infirmary, and the stitches seem more sturdy than he can remember his last ones being. 

Once you’re satisfied with his leg, you stand and move behind him to get a better look at his wing. He'd taken a bullet to it, right through the meat of the muscle, and he knew he’d be grounded a long while until it healed. You hesitated then, unsure if he’d be okay with you touching such a personal area as his wings. 

Gaz swallows hard, trying to think of the last time someone other than himself had handled his wings, and nudges it back into your hands. You’re remarkably gentle, he thinks, as your fingers card delicately through rich caramel feathers until you’re able to uncover the bullet hole. You use a pair of tweezers, to make sure that there are no lingering bits of shrapnel, and a tiny set of scissors to trim back any of the soft downy feathers that could catch in the wound as it heals. 

He’s started churring by the time you’re done, a sort of contented trill from the feeling of someone else preening his wings, despite the lingering pain from the injuries. His golden eyes snap back to focus as you nudge a water bottle and granola bar into his hands with a muttered apology that it was all you had on hand, and he’s still plenty happy because you’re trying to be part of his flock by preening him and providing for him. He churs the whole while as you guide him back to his room and help him into bed.

Gaz quickly becomes a regular participant of you and Soap’s late night gym sessions and joins you for mealtimes once in a while after that night.

-----

Truthfully, you still don’t know what convinced Ghost you were worth knowing, but he supposes that’s because you hadn’t known he was there. He’d been on his way to deliver a mission report from Price to one of the other admin when one of his rounded ears caught the sound of your raised voice. His curiosity drew him to the door, cracked just enough that he was able to see you stood across a table from a trio of generals, arms crossed and back straight. 

“I appreciate your congratulations,” you growled, and Ghost was taken aback by the ferocity in your voice. He’d never heard you speak like that before, not even in the field. “But I am not the one who should be hearing it.”

His ears prick forward, tugging against the thick fabric of his mask as he listened closer, intrigued. 

“With all due respect, Major, task force 141-” one of the pencil pushers started.

“No,” you interrupted, hands coming down hard on the desk between you and the other officers, “They are due the commendations. They are the ones who built this team from the ground up. Sure, there have been successful missions since my joining, but those are not only my achievements. If you want to offer a public congratulations on a successful operation, it will be to my entire team, not just the picture you think would be easiest to publish.”

With that, you turn from the board of your superior officers and head for the door, ignoring their protests, and Ghost has to scramble back in order to avoid being hit with the door. 

“Sorry, Lieutenant,” you say as you see him, moving out of his way. “Didn’t see you there,” and for once that doesn’t sound like some slight against his panther genetics, just a plain statement - he’d been behind the door and you hadn’t meant to nearly clip him with it. You clap him on the shoulder and head off down the hall back toward your office and Ghost is tempted to drop the file where he stands to follow you, one simple interaction you hadn’t meant for him to see enough to convince him there was far more to you than he’d thought. 

You weren’t just some babysitter added to their little family to observe them like they were no more than wild animals - you actually saw their worth and were willing to fight for it?

An amused little huff escapes him and Ghost forces his attention back to the task at hand, spotted tail lashing smoothly behind him as he turns and continues on his way, sharp claws digging puncture wounds into the folder he’d been sent to deliver and your words ringing in his mind.  

----

Price was the last to come around to you being a part of their little family, though he’d never been outright hostile the way Ghost had at first. He’d done his best to be professional with you, complying with the needed paperwork and taking your insights on each operation under consideration, though he never deliberately sought you out. 

That didn’t mean he could avoid you when the team had a mission though, especially not now with the five of you piled into a much-too-small cabin in the mountains near where intel suggested one of Makarov’s bases were. Laswell had just radioed in to let Price know there was a snowstorm incoming so evac might be delayed and to expect to hunker down at least another two nights.

With only two bedrooms and a total of three small beds between them, you’d volunteered to take up roost on the lumpy couch in the living room so he’s not surprised to see you there, so much as he is by your company. You’re sprawled out in about the middle of the couch with Gaz tucked comfortably against your side, your arm around his shoulder and one of his wings curling around the both of you. As Gaz’s wing shifts, Price notices Soap curled against your legs, snoring away, but he freezes as he sees Ghost.

Everyone on the team has gone through hell, but Price knows Ghost has dealt with more than his share. Nightmares aren’t uncommon for any of them, but for Ghost a decent night’s sleep was an incredible rarity. That’s why he’s so startled to see Ghost stretched comfortably along the rest of the couch with his head on your lap and his face nuzzled into your stomach, skull mask gone in favor of his more casual balaclava, and his breathing deep and even.

A pleased little huff escapes Price, warmth spreading in his chest at the sight of his three favorite people curled up together happy and comfortable. And if you were part of that? Well, there was plenty of room for one more in that old bear’s heart.

[suiana]

you're a fairy, they're a human

thats something no amount of potion is ever going to change

how many times has he heard that already? give up, look for someone else, just simply stop thinking of you. humans and fairies could never be together no matter how hard he tried after all. especially because he was your guardian fairy, meant to watch you from afar and bless you with a happy life.

and that's the problem.

he's tried. god, he's tried everything to forget that you even exist. to stop this disgusting feeling that crawls up his chest at every mere sight of you. you have no idea how many times he's been scolded by his supervisors for not looking after you and skimping out on work. really, this is your fault. he's tried to tell them.

you think he wants to feel like this? fuck no. he absolutely detests getting this fluttery feeling in his chest, the heat that rushes to his cheeks as he tries to brush his embarrassment off as the summer heat.

but what can he do? when all he wants to do is come back and see you? to hold you sweetly in his hands even though it's not possible? what can he do when this tiny fairy loves you with all his body?

the answer is: you can't. you can't do anything to stop the feeling.

in fact, every time he tries, it's like the feeling grows stronger. and that sucks. really sucks. especially because he gets so, so flustered that... he ends up treating you like shit. and it's not like he wants to either! he just can't fathom that you make him feel like this.

so he calls you stupid, pushes you away in hopes that it'll get rid of the feeling in his chest. the supervisors don't even do anything. just tell him to take some fairy dust and get with another fairy to take his mind off of you.

but really, it only worsens the feeling.

what does he do then? what on earth does he do now that he realizes pushing you away doesn't help, and actually makes him feel worse? that being with others makes him feel like he's commited a treacherous act, like you're the only person he should be this intimate with?

that's right! he violates fairy code and casts a spell that sizes him up to the size of a human. that's not something he should be doing but who cares at this point? he has nothing left to lose. at worse he'll just get killed and then he won't have to feel this disgusting feeling in his chest anymore.

however... he hadn't expected the fairies to go after you.

you of all people. the person that he cares about. the person that... that he broke a law for. you! you, goddamnit!

and he's ready to wage a war for you. doesn't matter if they come at him with an army or not. whether it's one or a hundred, he'll fucking kill them all for even daring to lay a hand on you.

he's your guardian fairy after all. he'll protect you. and he'll make sure of that even if it costs his life.

[rose24207]

Mafia lando smut where reader was mad at him from an argument the other day, so she spends heaps of money on his bank account. He doesn’t find out till the bank calls to make sure it wasn’t fraud. And he punishes her

Stress Shopping

Summary: After a heated argument, you storm off on a stress-shopping spree with Lando's card, prompting a call from his bank, but the fight ends in heartfelt apologies and a reminder of his love for you.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: arguing, spending way too much money

A/N: loved the idea but I changed it a little! Hope you don’t mind! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The sound of the door slamming reverberates through the mansion, shaking the antique fixtures on the walls. You stomp into the grand foyer, your heels clicking sharply against the marble floors, your anger palpable in the air. Lando's sharp voice follows you, his British accent more clipped than usual.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, love!" he barks, his footsteps quick behind yours.

You spin on your heel to face him, eyes blazing with fury. "What do you want me to do, Lando? Stand there and listen while you talk to me like I’m one of your employees? Like I’m beneath you?"

His jaw tightens, the muscles working as he clenches his teeth. He’s wearing that infuriatingly expensive suit you helped him pick out, and right now, you’d love nothing more than to rip it off him—not in the fun way. "I don’t treat you like my employees," he growls. "But I am in charge, and you seem to forget that sometimes."

You laugh bitterly, crossing your arms. "Oh, how could I forget? You love reminding me every chance you get."

Lando rakes a hand through his perfectly styled hair, messing it up slightly. Normally, the sight would make your heart soften, but right now, it only fuels your fire. "You’re being unreasonable," he snaps. "We had an agreement—"

"No, you had an agreement!" you interrupt, your voice rising. "I never agreed to this ridiculous, controlling nonsense, Lando."

His amber eyes flash dangerously. "Watch it," he warns, his voice low now, like a storm about to break. "You’re pushing me, and you know I don’t like being pushed."

But you’re too far gone to care. "And I don’t like being treated like some trophy wife who needs to follow orders. I’m done with this conversation."

Without waiting for his response, you grab your purse from the console table and march toward the front door. His voice chases after you. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you snap. "Don’t wait up."

Before he can stop you, you’re out the door, the evening air cool against your flushed skin.

The mall is your sanctuary. Under the glow of bright lights and the hum of happy chatter, you lose yourself in racks of designer clothing, rows of shoes, and glass cases of sparkling jewelry. Lando's black card burns a comforting weight in your purse, and tonight, you intend to make full use of it.

You start at Chanel, swiping the card for a pair of heels and a matching bag without so much as glancing at the price tag. Next is Cartier, where a sleek watch catches your eye. After that, you make your way to Dior, where a silk gown feels like the perfect antidote to your frustration.

Each purchase soothes the ache in your chest, replacing anger with satisfaction. By the time you leave the mall, your arms are laden with bags, and the backseat of your car is filled to the brim with boxes and tissue paper.

But your phone buzzes just as you’re pulling out of the parking lot. You glance at the screen and see Lando’s name flashing. You don’t answer.

Back at the mansion, Lando is pacing his study, his phone pressed to his ear. The man on the other end clears his throat nervously before speaking. "Mr. Norris, this is Daniel from Barclays. We’ve noticed some unusual activity on your account and wanted to confirm if your card has been compromised."

Lando pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. "What kind of activity?" he asks, though he already knows the answer.

"A series of high-value transactions," Daniel replies. "Chanel, Cartier, Dior... altogether totaling a little over seventy thousand pounds. Should we freeze the card?"

Lando smirks despite himself, shaking his head. "No, Daniel," he says, his tone resigned. "It’s just my wife... throwing a tantrum."

There’s a brief silence on the other end. "Ah," Daniel says finally, clearly unsure how to respond. "Very well, sir. Shall we flag the transactions as authorized?"

"Yes," Lando says. "And don’t call again unless it’s life or death."

You return home hours later, your anger dulled by exhaustion and the satisfying sight of your new purchases. You push open the door to the mansion, your arms laden with bags, only to find Lando waiting for you in the foyer. He leans against the staircase, his arms crossed over his chest, his sharp features unreadable.

"Have fun?" he asks, his voice deceptively calm.

You ignore him, stepping past him with your head held high. But before you can make it far, he grabs your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His grip is firm but not painful, his thumb brushing against your skin.

"Don’t ignore me," he says softly, dangerously.

You whirl around to face him, the fire in your eyes reigniting. "What do you want, Lando? To scold me for spending your money? Go ahead—I’m sure you’ve got plenty of lectures lined up."

He doesn’t rise to the bait, his gaze steady on yours. "It’s not about the money," he says. "You know that."

"Then what is it about?" you demand. "Because I’m tired of fighting with you over every little thing."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, finally, he speaks. "It’s about us," he says. "About you running off every time we argue instead of dealing with it. You think throwing my money around is going to make things better?"

"It made me feel better," you snap, yanking your wrist out of his grip.

"Fine," he says, his voice cold now. "If that’s what you want—things, clothes, jewelry—then take it all. But don’t pretend it’s going to fix what’s wrong between us."

His words hit harder than you’d like to admit. You stare at him, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back tears. "Maybe if you treated me like your wife instead of your possession, we wouldn’t have these problems," you say quietly.

Something flickers in his eyes—guilt, maybe. But he doesn’t respond, and you don’t wait for him to. You turn on your heel and head upstairs, leaving him standing alone in the foyer.

Hours later, you’re sitting in the walk-in closet, surrounded by your purchases. The excitement you felt earlier has faded, leaving behind a hollow ache. You sigh, running your fingers over the soft fabric of the Dior gown, wondering if you went too far.

A knock at the door startles you, and before you can respond, Lando steps inside. He looks tired, his tie loosened and his hair disheveled. In his hands, he’s holding a small box tied with a black ribbon.

"I brought you something," he says, his voice soft.

You raise an eyebrow. "More things? Haven’t I spent enough of your money today?"

He ignores your sarcasm, setting the box down on the bench beside you. "Open it," he says.

Curious despite yourself, you untie the ribbon and lift the lid. Inside is a delicate necklace, a simple gold chain with a tiny heart-shaped pendant. It’s nothing like the flashy pieces you bought earlier, but somehow, it feels more special.

"It’s not to bribe you," he says quickly, as if reading your mind. "I just... I wanted to remind you that I don’t care about the money or the fights. I care about you.“

You look up at him, your heart softening. "You have a funny way of showing it," you say, though your tone lacks its earlier bite.

He kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. "I know," he admits. "I’m not perfect, and I don’t always know how to handle you when you’re upset. But I’m trying, love. I promise I’m trying."

For a long moment, you say nothing, letting his words sink in. Then, finally, you reach out and cup his cheek, your thumb brushing against his stubble. "I’m sorry too," you say. "I shouldn’t have stormed off like that. It wasn’t fair to either of us."

He leans into your touch, closing his eyes briefly. "So... we’re okay?" he asks, his voice tentative.

You smile softly. "We’re okay."

The next morning, you wake up to find Lando already dressed, his tie perfectly knotted and his usual confidence back in place. He leans over to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin.

"Breakfast is ready downstairs," he says. "And I told the bank not to call me again if you go on another shopping spree."

You laugh, pulling the covers over your head. "Good. Because I might need a few more things."

He chuckles, his hand brushing against your hair. "Just try not to spend the GDP of a small country next time, yeah?"

You peek out from under the covers, grinning. "No promises."

And for the first time in days, everything feels right again.

Thank you for reading!

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Steve Harrington x Reader • mention of alcohol, semi-public sex, Steve’s horny & unhinged (same, honestly) oral (f receiving) unprotected sex, cum play, squirting, vaginal fingering

Steve hates attending dinner parties, and you hate hosting them. But with the first anniversary of your marriage approaching, your friends insisted there should be some kind of a celebration. Since the event was celebrating something as personal as your marriage, you chose to host the event at your home. Steve’s friends and yours are currently gathered in the dining room. The house is spotless; the food has been catered and tastes delicious. Your guests are chatting and getting along just fine, making easy conversation between themselves. Everything would be going great, if your husband wasn’t in such an…amorous mood. Because it’s becoming increasingly difficult to focus on the conversation around you while Steve’s fingers are moving between your legs under the table…

You smile politely, trying to keep it together for your guests. Steve has a complete poker face, taking generous sips of wine and cracking jokes with his buddies like nothing’s happening. Above the table, everything looks innocent; but with your laps hidden beneath it, your husband has free rein to work you into a mess in front of everyone.

You could end his teasing if you wanted to. A little swat of Steve’s hand and a stern ‘look,’ would be enough to make him cease his torment. But you don’t want him to stop. He’s rubbing your clit through your panties, your pussy swollen and aching under Steve’s touch. It started with him playfully stroking your knee, his hand gradually traveling up your skirt and between your thighs. Now, Steve’s got you so worked up that your clit is pulsing against his fingertips.

He’s able to hold his composure just fine until he makes one mistake that breaks him. As his fingers slip inside the crotch of your panties and Steve feels just how fucking soaked you are, he loses his focus completely. The words he’s saying die on his tongue mid-sentence, all the blood rushing from his head to his cock. You smile a little to yourself, happy to see that the playing field has been evened a bit. King Steve isn’t quite the master of self control he seems to think he is. You notice the muscles in his jaw tense in an effort to complete his train of thought, when you know all he can think about is how wet you are for him. As Steve presses his fingers lower, you intentionally adjust yourself in your seat to invite his fingers just inside you. Steve’s whole body jerks as his fingertips are now poised at your entrance; a little pressure is all it would take for him to be inside you now. You’re so fucking wet, he could easily wear you on his fingers right there at the table if he wanted to.

But he doesn’t. He clears his throat, composing himself, removing his hand from between your legs and subtly adjusting himself under the table. You watch him take another sip from his glass and reach for a napkin, pretending to need it. Steve’s fingers are glistening with your arousal; you watch as he subtly brings them to his nose, patting the napkin to his lips, his eyes fluttering when he catches your scent. Despite his best efforts, Steve is now struggling to hold a conversation with your guests, let alone make himself a charming host. You take pity on him, knowing how uncomfortable his cock must be straining against his pants, how badly you both need to relieve yourselves. “Steve?” you say at his ear, and he immediately responds with a breathy “yeah?”

“Can you help me finish up desert?” you ask. Steve nods readily, pushing his chair back and discarding the napkin onto his mostly-emptied plate. He turns away from the table as he leaves his chair, concealing his obvious erection. Steve excuses himself and follows you like a puppy to the kitchen, right on your heels. He reaches for your waist as you round the corner into the kitchen. You swat his hand away with a giggle, which doesn’t dissuade Steve, who reaches for your ass instead. You’ve led him through the kitchen and down the hall, lingering with him in your bedroom doorway. You peek past Steve’s shoulder toward the dining room, listening to your guests talking. Steve guides one hand along your arm, his other gently kneading your ass. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you whisper through a grin. Steve draws back his hand and gives your ass a hard spank! , the cracking sound so loud that he briefly looks behind him to make sure no one heard. As the conversation in the dining room continues uninterrupted, Steve turns his face back to yours, all humor removed from his expression. With a dark, lustful tone, he quietly orders you: “Inside. On the bed. Now.”

You let yourself land back on the bed as Steve closes the door behind you both, locking it. He climbs on top of you, his thighs framing yours. You reach for his belt and so does he, your fingers fumbling together. His breath and yours are uneven, impatient. You tug down Steve’s zipper and with a groan of relief, his hand closes around his stiff cock, pumping up and down his shaft as his other hand snakes up your skirt. He grips the waistband of your panties and yanks them down, the elastic tearing in protest. “Shit,” Steve curses. “Sorry.” You shush him with a kiss, gripping his shoulders and pulling him in close. His hands grope down your body to your hips, spreading them wider. Steve trails kisses down your stomach, pushing up the bottom of your dress around your waist. You let your head rest back on the pillow as Steve nestles his face between your thighs. He doesn’t give you a chance to prepare, delving the tip of his tongue immediately inside you.

Your body jerks in response, a gasp shuddering up from your chest. You clench the shoulders of his dress shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists. Steve nuzzles his nose against your clit, his tongue lapping between your walls. The sound of your wetness is audible as Steve’s tongue works your juices in and out of your cunt, his chin dripping with you. He’s kneeling beside the bed, pumping his cock in his fist while he eats you. Your eyes are on the ceiling, your mind in a blissful haze as Steve takes what he needs from you. The first flutters of orgasm begin tickling deep in your belly, ushered in by the steady lap of Steve’s tongue pulsing inside you.

He knows you’re close, knows every bit of your body and its signals, almost better than you know yourself. Steve adds a finger inside you as well, reaching the parts of you his tongue couldn’t. Pleasure seizes you, your back arching involuntarily, heels kicking into the bed as you thrash. Steve releases his cock and clamps his arm over your waist, holding you in place as you come. He moans into your pussy, words your mind can’t understand but your body knows instinctively, his breath spraying your wetness on your thighs as he pants between them. Steve rises to his feet, his hand returning to his cock. You reach for him, but he breathlessly tells you “no, no baby, stay there, just like that.” Steve’s forehead is damp with sweat, his nose and chin slathered in you. He moves his free hand between your legs, using his fingertips to spread your labia, his eyes honing in on your slick, puckering hole like a predator eyeing its prey.

With a low groan, Steve empties his release onto you, spattering your cunt in his cum. He keeps your lips spread, watching his seed land on and just inside your cunt. Steve uses his fingers to slather his cum all over you, slipping two fingers inside you easily. He climbs back over you, wrapping his arm around your neck, pulling your body into his in an intimate embrace. Steve fucks his cum deep inside you with his fingers, an audible sloshing sound coaxing up from between your legs. You choke out a cry of relief as a second climax consumes you, your cunt fluttering and squeezing around Steve’s fingers. He buries his face between your legs again, lapping up your orgasm. You rut yourself against the bridge of Steve’s nose, smearing his face again with your cum, like a dog marking what belongs to it. He rests awhile between your legs, his cheek relaxed against your warm, sticky thigh.

The pair of you almost fall asleep like this, with your arms splayed out above you and Steve’s head resting between your legs. Just before dozing off, you remember that friends are still hanging out in your dining room. You pat Steve’s shoulder and point past him to the door. “People,” you remind him, sliding off the bed. Steve doesn’t seem to be in the hurry that you are as he watches you adjust your dress and smooth your hair in the mirror. You catch him watching you with a satisfied grin on his lips, and turn to face him. “What?” you ask, matching his smile.

Steve leaves the bed and approaches you at the mirror, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He nestles his chin in the crook of your shoulder, pressing a soft kiss there. “I was just thinking,” he replies, his breath warming your skin. “That girl in the mirror-” Steve points his index finger at your reflection. “-That girl, right there…” He purses his lips against your neck again, once, twice, three times. “…That’s my dream girl right there,” Steve murmurs softly. “Her husband’s the luckiest guy in the whole damn world…”

@hippiegoth97 @octobertales @buckysgrace @loserboysandlithium @professionalpromqueen @southerngothicchic @stuffedwithsteve @thecreelhouse @heartbreak-sandwich @whenisthefall @probablyin-bed

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Wrong move | The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: He thought you were in love with him....maybe he needs to show you how much you need him.

Warnings: SFW - Possessive!Salesman - Obsessive!Salesman - Controling!Salesman - Red flag basically - Unhealthy relationship - Power imbalance - DARK!Salesman - grammar mistakes -

Note: Not part of "Home Bliss", this is a different universe.

"No"

These were the words that have been in the Salesman's mind for a week now. His aparment, a place he used to love coming to since you were here waiting for him now felt like a empy box. Walls too grey to look at, too dull. The food did not have teaste and his bed felt too big.

When did things go wrong ? He did everything right.

Saw you one day at the local park, got enamoured by you. Followed you around, got to know your schendelure so he could see you from afar. Was able to hack your phone to know every last detail. Your social media were poorly secured. He got to know you like he knew his own skin, when he finally did approach you, you were already his.

And after two years, two years of beautiful moments together, perfectly crafted by him, each one calculated and made so you would fall more and more for him. He got you to move in with him, he was accepted by your friends, your family loved him, and saw him like part of it.

He was sure, centrain that this was the right moment. The perfect one. This was your favorite season, favorite month, perfect hour of the day and a well secured place so you would not feel pressure over it.

Some part of him wanted you to come to him willing.

But your words were marked liked fire. The exchange and after events lived rent free inside his head.

How he had managed to keep his facade he has no idea. The aparment (after you refused to get back) was the one that suffered his rage. All the expensive forniture was destroyed by him, some walls had blood by how much he had punched them.

He was a mess, a disaster. How could yo do it  ? After everything? Weren't you two the perfect match ?

A ding from his phone, the ding he had set just for you sounded.

"Sorry, I think its better if we stop seeing each other. I will pass to get my things soon"

The phone went flying. Were you breaking up with him by text ? When he had read all the exchange with your friends  ? Like how scared you were and how fast it felt. Why were you doing this?

And your doubts ? He never saw them, you seemed content by his side. And loved him like that.

But your personal diary on your phone said different. You felt trapped, like he knew too much, like he was not being honest.

Maybe he should have been more...severe? Showing you just how bad he could be, maybe he let your leash go too large and now he was paying the consequences.

But would he give up ? No. After all you were just confused, and scared, you just needed a reminder of how much you needed him. How he could be the only one for you.

He took the phone back, the screen broke but other functions working. He ignored your message and instead went to his contacts. He had many friends, friends that could ruin you completly.

"I need a favor"

Leaving him was the start of your nightmare.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~

At first the relationship was fine. How does peopel put it ? Honeymoon? Well you two had it for very long.

He was the man any woman could ask for, gentle, caring, doting, never forgot a special date. And would get your favorite things.

But something was off. His eyes, the same dark eyes that sparked when he saw you, these eyes would change to sharp and cold around others. You felt like he was always on you, even when being away for work, he would just know when to send you a message or call you.

Would meet you randomly on the streets, knew when you wanted to do something even when you never mentioned it.

Something was wrong. Your gut told you to run from him but you did not know how. After all on the eyes of everyone he was perfect.

Then he asked to marry you, and you saw your chance. You could say you got scared and that things just did not work out after it.

But it did not go that way.

Once you had got your things from his aparment your Boss called, he had said how sorry he was but the company was cutting off some employees and you were one of them.

Your work, your dream work. The one you had passed years preparing yourself, tears and blood for it. The one that made your parents proud.

Ripped out from you with one call.

Then it came your social circle. Slowly your Friends stopped meeting with you, some removed you from their social media, and some blocked your number. You never got to know what was wrong, or what you did.

And later your parents, it was a shame losing your job, it was worse not being able to get another one.

"Sorry we are looking for something different"

"Your solicitude was read but right now we need another thing"

"We will call you"

Rent became impossible, and so you had to move back with them. Your mother was not happy, telling you how much of a failure you were, how your brother was making money overseas and how your sister had made a family.

Your father did not even look at you. Like he felt guilty, not even the company he used to work for would take you in.

Your days became a circle of sending out curriculums and doing your best to keep your parents happy even when you knew they did not want you there.

And some days you would go to the park and cry. Not caring if others saw you, your life was ruined, you had nothing. Maybe....maybe if you had said yes....

Checking your phone you saw the contacts, mom, dad, brother, sister and him. You were sure you had removed his number but it kept coming back. Maybe you were getting sick because of the stress.  Your finger went over the call buttom till you finally hitted it.

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

He never wanted to see you like this, so broken, so out of life. Maybe he had insolated you too much. Let some lies to your Friends and mother that grew and now they hated you. Your father was a rough one, he had used some...other methods for him. But did coperate at the end.

"You dont seem so good" Were his first words and you looked down at your lap.

"Im sorry for have called you.., after everything"

"Dont say anything. I was glad I got your call. I wanted to know how you were doing" He lied, he knew you were miserable.

Only him could fix it.

"I have...well things have been bad" You addmited "I dont want to burden you with it, maybe this was a mistake"

You went to get up and leave but a firm grip on your hand stopped you. His eyes, cold and sharp like he was seeing his prey.

You, you were his prey.

"Sit" It was an order not a request "Lets talk for a bit more, maybe I can help you, for the old times"

~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○~○

"Are you sure? (Y/N) you can still go back and say no" Your fathers voice cut off.

You were wearing a beautiful weeding dress, outside from a ceremenoy to take place.

"Dad...you have been saying that since I told mom and you that I was getting married. This is good, we actually made up and I even got my work back, with double pay. Was not what you wanted for me?"

Your father did not respond. He still remembers that night. The night your "perfect" boyfriend appear. When he told him how your life would be so bad you would be wishing you were gone.

"And if thats not enoguh, maybe leaving her limp like you will do the trick"

He had tried for many months to hide his injury, the injury that man had caused him and promised to do the same to you.

"Dad? Its your leg hurting? You are crying"

"No dear, im fine. A little emotional to see you go"

When the doors opened and he walked you in and saw the monster you were going to marry he felt like dying there. When he gave you to him he could see it, he was liking his pain.

"I will take good care of her" Were his only words, and by the time his eyes were on you it had changed.

Love? Obsession ? A twisted sense of care ? No one could tell, no one dared to ask.

Him ? He was just happy you finally accepted what was best for you.

Him, he was the best for you.

"Till death do us apart"

Not even death would be able to separate you from him.