#kat x reader

[animelovelover123]

Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra

Parings: Sparda, Urizen, Nelo Angelo, Credo, Kat, Dante, Reboot Dante, Vergil, Reboot Vergil, Nero, and V x Reader

Synopsis: The awaited sequel to my DMC 3way story. I ended up putting off the girls for the future because writing this was really draining. The only exception is the reboot characters as, due to a lack of them, it is one of the twins, Kat, and you. I don’t intend to do the boy-girl pairings because that would be like 120 scenes (if I did the math right) and I think that would kill me.

Trigger Warnings: Spardacest and selfcest warning, the focus is on you but there are moments where characters pleasure each other and references to family ties.

Also some non-con elements (pretty much just with Urizen and Nelo Angelo), bondage, public foreplay and sex, spoilers for DMC1&4&5, oviposition (aka freaky egg stuff), emotional distress, tentacles, exhibitionism, being an experiment subject, size difference, some pain, lack of control, Macrophilia (giants), BDSM, horse crops, Shibari/Kinbaku, blood, double penetration, edging, orgasm denial, and face sitting.

Dante & Sparda

"Just relax my dear, take in the sights and scents around you." Sparda encouraged you as he helped you lay down on the luxurious bed he had moved to the garden. Around the four-poster bed were tall flower plants, painting your eye line with soft greens and colourful petals.

"You really went all out, didn't you?" Dante said, barely restraining the scoff in his voice. He could admit it was a sweet arrangement, but it seemed overkill. "We were just late coming home." Dante hopped up onto the mattress, which was specially made to fit multiple people.

"That is where you are misguided my boy," Sparda corrected as he leaned over the bed to lovingly stroke your hair and cheek. "To us, it may not seem like much, but to someone waiting at home for their partners to return, uncertainty and worry for their loved ones occupying their mind, it can be extremely stressful." Sparda cupped your cheek and lifted your chin a bit to face him, taking a moment to gaze into your eyes. "We must make up for our mistakes and soothe our love’s troubled heart and mind." He then slowly lowers himself to place a feather-light kiss onto your lips, giving you the room to turn away if you were not quite ready to forgive his and Dante's misdeed.

Dante let out a sigh that started amused but ended as being one of genuine regret. He was still not used to having someone waiting for him at home, but it was clear how upset you were when he and Sparda returned 4 days late from the supposed 1-week long mission. But now at least you looked calmer, with your red cheeks no longer covered in tears and your chest raising and lowering at a normal pace. And when he laid down beside you and started to stroke your stomach, hips, and thighs, you didn’t push him away, something that actually soothed his own troubled heart.

“I guess the old lady was right,” Dante mumbled as he watched Sparda start to kiss from your lips to your chin to your neck. “you are better at dealing with ladies.”

==+==+==

This whole idea was based on the fact that in the DMC5 prequel novel Before the Nightmare, Matier (the old lady from DMC2 that fought alongside Sparda long ago) said that “his father was better at dealing with ladies, as well as better at making excuses”, or so says https://devilmaycry.fandom.com/wiki/Sparda which can’t always be trusted but it's not like I can read the Japanese only book myself to check.

Vergil & Sparda

“Slow down my boy.”  Warned Sparda in that gentle, ‘not actually angry’, parental tone as he placed a hand on Vergil’s back to help break through his son’s lustful haze and listen. “You are going a bit too fast, especially here at the beginning. You want her to feel and enjoy every little movement and sensation rather than it blazing past as a numb blur.” It takes a moment, but Vergil does slow down.

“I understand father.” Vergil huffed out, still in a bit of a daze. The rough and quick slamming of his cock into you slowed to a smooth drag, finally giving your body a chance to relax a bit as your trembling arms held you up so you weren’t face down in the mattress.

Sparda, despite being bigger and stronger, had been so very gentle and considerate of you when he did his “demonstration”, only ramping up the intensity to help push you both over the edge. But Vergil, blinded by the desire to prove himself to Sparda and the lust that had built up in him while watching you be fucked by someone else, had dived forward. He had forced himself into your still-seizing core, not even letting you finish your first orgasm before ravaging you. Thankfully Sparda was there to help and guide Vergil.

“She seems a bit overwhelmed Vergil. Look her over, ask her how she is, and care for her. It is your responsibility as the dominant one to take care of your partner. To make sure they are safe, happy, and satisfied.” Sparda instructs, though he had been watching you closely to make sure you were enjoying yourself so knew you were okay, just a bit overwhelmed.

“Right, of course.” This reminder of your pleasure snapped Vergil out of it, at least for the most part. “My darling, how are you holding up?” Vergil ran his hands up and down your back, using just enough pressure to act as a message.

“Lay her on her side for now,” Sparda said, leading Vergil to gently shift your bodies so that you were both lying on your sides facing Sparda. Vergil did not remove himself from you, his primal lust still holding on too strong to truly give you a break. At least it was more of a cockwarming situation now, for the time being at least. “There we are.” Sparda laid down as well, making it so that Vergil was pressed up against your back, giving your neck apologetic kisses, and Sparda was in front of you running his large hands over your body in a soothing pet. From up into your hair to down your sides and even your legs which he messaged a bit since they had worked so hard to keep you up as Vergil had tried to take you while you were still recovering. “Remember my boy, she is not merely a vessel to let out your lust, but a person to be cherished and, when she gives her trust over to you like this, taken care of. Do you understand?”

Vergil is only able to nod in response as he finds himself struggling to stay calm. He did agree with his father completely, but you felt so good, not just wrapped around his member but also in his arms and his heart. But he would listen to Sparda for you, out of respect for his father, and because deep down inside him Vergil wanted to surpass Sparda and his power to pleasure you.

==+==+==

I thought this scenario would be a fun callback to the Nero & Vergil part since Vergil taught his son a lesson on “how to treat a woman”. Here though you can see how different Sparda and Vergil are in the way they teach and their opinions on how you should be pleasured.

Also, last time I tried to avoid references to characters by their relationships, like calling them brothers or father and son, since it makes some people uncomfortable. But this time I completely gave up. I have so many to write and I feel like the familial bonds could make an interesting dynamic. Besides, even when I blatantly point out that there was, in a way, Spardacest in the last one and tried avoiding bringing attention to it, someone still complained so what the fuck ever. Some people are gonna bitch no matter what so I’ll just ignore them and have fun making what I want without restrictions.

Nero & Sparda

It was quite the strange proposition you received from the great Lord Sparda, which is apparently rather normal in demon high society, though there it is not so much a proposition as a forced encounter. Nevertheless, here you were, having both Lord Sparda and his grandson Nero performing a practice bonding ritual on you meant as a way for a demon (or part demon in Nero’s case) to mark their partners. When Sparda had first explained this to you both, he talked of the benefits of a bond. How, even if one was monogamous, this way they could leave their scent on their partner to ward off predator demons. What he did not tell you is how intense it would be.

“That’s it, get as deep as you can.” Sparda encouraged, though it probably did not register for Nero who was bent over you rutting into you like a wild beast. Nero was at your front while Sparda was behind you. Or, to be most specific, you were practically lying on top of Sparda who was holding you in place while also thrusting up into you. The two men were sharing the same whole, stretching you beyond what you have felt before. Thankfully you were given plenty of prep. Still, it was a shock to the senses as Nero’s cock jammed in as far as it could, practically kissing your womb with his tip, while Sparda’s thrusts were more shallow as he aimed for your g-spot. “And then, right at the peak, you need to bite down where her neck and shoulder meet.” Sparda did not intend to do this, but hearing your cries of pleasure, feeling your body against his, and smelling your scent, led him to give a demonstration. He was still conscious enough to not actually create a bonding mark without your consent, but his teeth still bore down on you, leaving a mark of lust as he spilled his seed into the condom he was wearing.

Nero watched intently. He was coated in a sheen of sweat, his eyes were misty, his fangs were out, and his tongue went between lolled out and licking his lips as he looked at you.

“Wanna do it, wanna mark, please.” He begged both you and Sparda. His thrusts got more uneven as he chased his own peak, one that could only be quenched by the demonic tradition of marking and bonding. “Please, please, please.”

“I understand Nero, but we must not pressure her into making that decision in the throws of passion.” Sparda pointed out. With his own lust satisfied, at least for the moment, he let go of your hips and instead wrapped his large hands around your neck. He did not put any pressure on your neck and he let you move and bend freely. He was not restraining you but protecting you, acting as a shield so that wherever Nero did bite, he would not bind you to an unbreakable vow. You can decide if and when that happens when you are a little more sane. Right now Nero was looking down at you like you were a delicious treat and he was starving.

“Yes, need it, need you… forever~”

==+==+==

This didn’t turn out quite the way I intended it to but oh well. Also, I almost switched this to being the Dante & Sparda story but then I switched it back to Nero.

V & Sparda

Tonight was supposed to be your chance to witness the most regal side of society. A ball where everyone was dressed in exuberant gowns and suits, a live orchestra was playing the music, and everything shimmered in the extravagant marble scenery and jewels adorning everything and everyone. However, your dance partners were making it hard to focus.

“You’re losing the tempo my songbird.” Says V in his silky smooth, deep voice as he dips you low. “Though I suppose it is hard to keep a beat when your heart is fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.” One of V’s hands glides up from your side to your chest so he can feel your heartbeat, but with the squeeze he gave you it was clear what his true goals were. Before you can respond V pulls you upright again and sends you towards your other dance partner who is quick to press up against your back and wrap his arms around you to stop anyone from interrupting the sensual dance between you three.

“I do hope you are not overwhelmed, my dear,” Sparda says, his voice a bit deeper than V’s but with a more gentlemanly cadence to it. Sparda was much taller than you, standing at 7 feet tall, so when he grasped your chin with his gloved hands and made you look at him, your head had to be tilted up and pressed against his chest. “Your face is red and your breathing…” He gently runs his thumb over your lips, making the sensitive skin tingle,  “it is heavy.” His other hand glides down your torso and stops just above your sex, his fingertips just barely brushing over where your clit would be, and he pulls you tighter against him.

“Ah, you must be overheating.” V comments, drawing so close that he is on the cusp between it being appropriate and inappropriately close. “Let us step outside for some fresh, cool night air.”

You are swept away from the crowd of attendees towards a large balcony on the side of the building that does not face any garden or place where people could mill about alone. It faced out into a seemingly endless ocean sparkling in the moonlight. As you walk both men keep their hands on you, one resting on, and slowly groping your bottom while the other flicks at your bra strap over your clothes, as if threatening to undo it. Just before stepping out, Sparda made a motion towards the guards who quickly went to work closing the curtains and lining up at the door so no one could disturb you three.

“There, now we are free from that stuffy, stifling atmosphere.” V’s choice of words and tone indicated that it was not simply the obsessive heat he was glad to get away from.

“And yet our darling still seems a bit dazed,” Sparda says as he, along with V, leads you to the marble railing. Swiftly they turn you to face them, press your backside to the railing, and trap you there by each placing a hand on the railing on either side of you. “I fear it is the weight of your extravagant and voluminous gown that is the cause.”

“I agree. We must strip you of some of your layers songbird. I will start with your bodice.”

“And I with begin with your garters.”

==+==+==

This started with Sparda and V just using their voices, since V had a sexy voice and I like to imagine Sparda as a gentlemanly, slightly British, voice also on the deep side. Then I started to think of what scenario could facilitate this and somehow got to dancing. Then it evolved into this. Fancy boys pretending to be fancy while they do naughty things.

Dante & Nelo Angelo

Things had developed in such a strange way that it was hard to wrap your brain around. One moment Dante and you were preparing to fight the armored being that appeared from the mirror in the castellan's private bedroom. The next you were desperately trying to jog the memory of the man inside that was clearly brainwashed. He still seemed to recognize you though as he had zeroed in on you right away and removed his helmet for you. And when he had suddenly grabbed your side and used his absurd strength to lift you like a doll and force his lips upon you, Dante knew what he had to do to save his brother.

“Come on Vergil, you remember this, right?” Dante said as he held your legs open by locking his own legs atop yours. One of his hands was holding up your top to show your breasts still sitting in your bra while his other hand, having already pulled off your underwear, was stoking and holding open your lower lips. “You’ve been in this pussy before. Remember how warm and tight it was? You used to love it.”

Nelo Angelo, as was his new name, was focused on your core. The way your slick glistened on Dante’s fingers and your body, and how your entrance flexed in nervous anticipation. He strode closer and climbed onto the bed you and Dante were on, his size and weight caused the bed to dip. He knelt there for a moment, then, like his helmet before, another part of his armour disappeared in a flash of flames, causing his cock to spring free. Nelo Angelo was larger than the man you had known before, about 1½ times larger, and that has applied to his manhood which was now as thick as your wrist and as long as your forearm.

“Oh shit.” Dante murmured, though because he was pressed up against your back you could hear his shock loud and clear. “Alright sweetie, you ready to take one for the team?”

The initial penetration was tough, with your body twitching and the wind getting knocked out of you. And when Nelo Angelo started moving the sound of his deep grunts was drowned out by your own voice crying out in pleasure and pain. Dante had to hold you in place while Nelo Angelo lost himself in the familiar feeling of your inner walls clamping down around him. In the meantime, Dante whispered words of encouragement to you and stroked your clit to heighten your own pleasure. And for all this work, you were rewarded with your insides being coated in Nelo Angelo’s hot seed, and a wavering voice calling you by a familiar pet name.

“Darling?”

==+==+==

Your pussy has saved Nelo Angelo, congrats! lol

Vergil & Nelo Angelo

You were sandwiched between two men that, though from different periods of Vergil’s life, were the same man and still similar in most ways. And yet by having them both embracing the person they love the most made one act vastly different. Nelo Angelo treated you in the usual way, thrusting into you with quick precision, using his strength to hold you in place with just enough force to make it sting a little and not speaking as he was confident in his skills to please you, though that last bit was also due to the fact that he could not speak words. Vergil though…

Vergil was treating this like a competition, which in it of itself was not that surprising. The strange part was with how unsure he seemed. Perhaps it was due to being faced with himself at his weakest, or the fact that you, the one person whose opinion he cares most for, are seeing him in the weak state. Whatever the reason, he was acting more desperate. His usually strong grip was instead a gentle embrace, which, when paired with Nelo’s strong thrust, caused both Vergil and you to bounce rhythmically. His usual tight lip, open only to steal kisses and mark you with his teeth, were now split between peppering your face, neck, and chest with kisses, and saying things that were demanding, yet bordering on pathetic due to the tone.

“Darling, look at me,” Vergil said, trying to sound like his usual demanding self but instead sounding like a plea. You barely open your eyes before Nelo Angelo, going off of pure instinct, grabs your chin, forces you to turn your head, and kisses you with a strong, almost suffocating passion. “Darling.” Vergil breathed, barely subduing the tremor in his voice. His own lips dart forward, kissing your cheek then trailing down your jaw, and neck, and finally landing on the middle of your chest where your heart was. His hips also picked up the pace, though they weren’t as strong as Nelo Angelo’s. Between each kiss, Vergil demanded your attention. “Here darling. Look at me. Listen to me. Hear me. Focus on the man who drives you crazy with lust and love, body, mind, and soul. The one that has claimed you. The one you love… right?”

==+==+==

I kind of lost track of what I was doing on this one TBH. Since Vergil has trauma about his time as Nelo Angelo I wanted to utilize that but I did not want to make it too intense. I originally had Vergil break down more to the point of crying, but that seemed out of character.

Nero & Nelo Angelo

Both you and Nero were frazzled but that did not stop Nelo Angelo from picking you both up. Nero instinctually started clawing and cussing but did nothing to impact Nelo Angilo’s mostly armoured body. Nero was dropped down onto the large desk and before he could reorient himself and his new position, his legs were pushed open and you were shoved down on top of him. Now you and Nero were chest to chest, laying on the table, with your legs between his. Nelo Angelo made a grunting sound as his hand, thankfully not covered in armour, grabbed Nero’s semi-hard cock and pulls it out from between you two so he can rub the tip against your still-loose entrance.

“Ya, ya, I get it.” Nero grumbles. He was having a great time but this Nelo Angelo guy was so demanding. “Yo, babe, can you lift your hips real quick?” Nero asks you as he wraps one arm around you, his hand landing on your ass to give it a good few gropes, while his other drifts down between you two. When you do as asked he quickly positions himself so that when you go back down you will take him in. However instead of slowly, teasingly grinding down, Nelo Angelo places his hand on your lower back and shoves down, forcing Nero to impale you in one go. Thankfully you have been stretched beforehand, but that jolt of pleasure and lingering pain still shot through you, making your arms and legs weak. All of your weight falls down on Nero for a moment who uses his now free hand to hold your back. “Jesus christ, you okay?” he asks you despite also having been shot with sensation as you suddenly engulfed his manhood.

Nelo Angelo makes a pleased groaning sound before he grabs Nero’s leg and pulls on them, making it so both you and Nero were hanging off the table below the belt. Your body was properly bent over the table, your torso and face safeguarded from the wooden platform by Nero’s body, with your legs hanging down but not quite touching the floor. Nero was lying face up, his upper body supported by the table while his lower body only held aloft by Nelo Angelo’s grip on his legs. Nelo Angelo steps forward a bit and, without warning, shoved his fingers into your back door to start stretching it.

With Nelo Angelo’s fingers now exploring, stroking, and scissoring open your insides, your body instinctively reacted accordingly. It was like you were his puppet that he could make twist, jerk, raise, lower, and buck with the simplest movements of his fingers. And with each movement made a domino effect to Nero, due to his position and lack of energy after the previous couple rounds, could only hold your body as it moved against and around him. Even his legs were rendered pretty useless to him as Nelo Angelo held them aloft and used them almost like leashes to hold you two in place. It was a very pleasurable break for him, allowing him to gather the energy for when it was his turn next to be on top.

==+==+==

I thought about how a bunch of these focus a lot on the setup and decided I wanted a few more that were PWP.

V & Nelo Angelo

With all the thrashing and grunts of rage Nelo Angelo had been doing when first pinned down by the familiars Shadow and Nightmare, it seemed like he would not accept the next step of the process. Yet the moment you lowered your crotch onto his lips he calmed down. It was as if your warmth and scent had pacified him to an extent. It still took some time to get him to start moving though.

“That’s it songbird, keep going.” V encouraged, giving your hands a squeeze. “Let him taste your nectar. Let your love flow into him and break the chains Mundus has over his heart and mind.” V stood before you, above Nelo Angelo’s head, holding either of your hands. You were palm-to-palm with him as he did his best to keep you steady and focused. However, it was his mind that was drifting from the task at hand. In making sure things were going as intended, V had to look down at where you and Nelo Angelo were connected. Watching the way Nelo Angelo’s lips moulded to your form, how his tongue varied from long strokes to quick flicks, it was tantalizing and stirred jealousy in the pit of his stomach. “Songbird.” V breathed, his words short and vague but his tone spoke of his desires, as did the growing in his pants. With you sitting on Nelo Angelo’s face, you were at the perfect hight.

When witnessing the extent of V’s desire, Nelo Angelo seemed to recognize the spark of excitement and confidence in you. As V rushed to push his pants down enough to free his manhood with one hand, since he refused to fully let go of you, Nelo Angelo’s mouth became more aggressive and his arms lifted and wrap around your legs so he could pull you down harder onto him. The moment your lips touched V’s sensitive skin, a jolt went through him and he let out a low groan.

“That’s it, my love, let me show you love as you do for your poor knight.” With one hand still holding yours, V’s other combed through your hair, pulling you close as a subtle attempt to make you take more of him it. This chain of pleasure continued as such with Nelo Angelo holding you in place no matter how you trembled, cried out, or came.

==+==+==

I’m losing steam and I am not even halfway done 🙃 .

Dante & Credo

“How dare you!” Credo snapped as he glared at you through the bars of solitary confinement. This barely slowed Dante down though.

“Just having some fun,” Dante said, flashing Credo a sly grin before focusing on you again. He gripped your hips a bit tighter and changed his angle so that the next time he thrust into you the slap of skin hitting skin and the squelching of liquids was lewd to an almost obnoxious level just to bother Credo more. Your upper body was bent forward, your hands gripping the cell bars to hold yourself up as Dante showed little mercy.

“Do you two have any shame?” Credo argued, yet he could not look away from the display in front of him. “You are prisoners for attacking His Holiness, this is not some broth- HEY!” Credo was cut off when you reached through the bars, slipped your hand under his uniform coat, and grabbed the belt holding his pants up. Credo grabbed your wrist to stop you, yet did not pry your hand off. You could feel his hand shaking a bit.

Dante let out an impressed whistle. “Feelin’ frisky today, hu baby? Alright, I’ll play along.” Dante, using his impressive height, reached over you and also between the cell bars. He grabs the flap of Credo’s uniform jacket that was covering his crotch and lifts it. He also used that to pull Credo closer, making Credo release your wrist so he could brace himself on the cell bars.

“What is the matter with you both? Cease this at once!” Credo threatened, yet did not truly fight back. There were ways he could break free, he had a weapon and his angelic form. He could easily fight you off enough to get free. Instead, he watched as you undid his belt and pulled down his pants enough to let his semi-hard cock free. The grip he had on the bars tightened to the point that his knuckles turned white and started to burn when your hand stroked his cock, your thumb brushing over the tip to encourage precum to come out. And when you finally took him into your warm mouth he failed to stifle a guttural groan of pleasure.

“That’s it baby.” Dante praised, smirking as if you and he had just won a battle. He let go of Credo, correctly guessing that Credo would no longer pull away now that your tongue was dragging along the underside of his shaft and returned his hands to your hips. Dante started his hip movements again with vigour, spurred on by your muffled moans, gasps, and gagging sounds. Each thrust of Dante’s hips bounced you forward, making you take Credo in deeper.

Credo’s mind was a battlefield between his alliance to The Order of the Sword and the burning pleasure he was feeling. But when he realized that he had unconsciously started bucking his hips forward into your mouth, he knew he had lost. He just prayed that no one would catch him down here like this or find it suspicious when he would return daily to check in on the prisoners.

==+==+==

Credo is honestly the hardest for me to write, so coming up with ideas for him is hard for me. Hopefully, this is okay. I wanted to play with how outgoing Dante is with sex and affection while Credo is less open, or at least that is the assumption since we never see him react to sexual things in DMC4. Maybe in the novel, there is a moment where he is faced with things of sexual nature, but I doubt it.

Vergil & Credo

When you looked down you could see your chest clear as day due to the low cut, loose neckline of the silky dress you had been gifted and ordered to be put on. If you try to adjust it though, your hand will get a sharp whip.

“Hands down.” Came Credo’s order as he used the end of his crop to push your hand down.  “You are to stand straight and hold your head high. Stand your ground with pride and confidence.”

“And if you don’t, you know what will happen.” Added Vergil as he stalked around you in a circle. He was rhythmically smacking his upturned palm hard enough to make a sound that was both tantalizing and threatening. “So raise your head and eyes.” Vergil tucked the tip of his crop under your chin and used it to push your head up. “Focus on your masters. Thank us for our wonderful gift.” He said, referring to the wrap dress you were in that was held together by ribbon. It was silky and cool, a great contrast and soothing element to how heated your skin gets when being struck. But it was also weak, as Credo demonstrates by easily pushing it aside to slide his crop tip in through the part.

“If not, then we may just take it back.” Credo pressed the leathery tip against your lower abdomen, just below your underwear waistband. A clear indication of where you would next be receiving punishment.

==+==+==

I originally had this weird idea of setting this back in time when Vergil visited Fortuna and have this thing where you were dating Credo and Vergil was like a god and gifting you and Credo with the next child of the Sparda bloodline. It was weird and the timeline definitely would not match up and Credo would be Nero’s adoptive/half dad, and it was a mess. Thankfully I switched to this idea where I showcase and utilize the men’s dominating, commanding personalities.

Nero & Credo

Once the anger and adrenalin had faded from their battles and survived Sanctus Diabolica’s crazed destruction for godlike power, only fear remained in Nero and Credo: the fear of you. They knew you would be upset and hurt at the two men you love most in the world nearly killing each other and getting killed by a man with power Credo helped him obtain. And to add salt to the wound, they were both stuck in hospital beds barely able to move. They would recover in time, but for now, they were at the mercy of you. They expected tears, accusations, shouting, or, worst case scenario, a breakup. What they were not expecting was the punishment.

“Fuck, please, you're killing me.” Nero panted, using what little strength and movement ability to desperately jerk his hips up in hopes of penetrating your entrance that you so cruelly pressed and rubbed against the tip of his hard-on. However, due to not having the use of his hands so not being able to properly aim and hold steady as he pushes through your entrance, his cock slip and slides along your skin. “Let me in babe, please.” His pleas were ignored though.

“You’ve done enough, we understand our faults.” Credo tried to reason with you through gritted teeth. He had enough control to not fruitlessly thrust up as he knew you would not let his cock slip betwixt your beautiful lips. You would kiss, lick, and tease his shaft at an agonizingly slow pace until you deemed that they had sufficiently suffered. “Cease this ridiculous tantrum-” With a simple pull, the belt around the base of Credo’s dick stopping him from cuming tightened, silencing him in an instant. His back arched off the bed and the gasp he let out sounded suspiciously like a moan. The torture for him was twofold as he both hated being denied release yet also was further aroused by your harsh treatment.

“God damn it.” Nero cussed as you use your lower body to stroke his cock but did not give him the satisfaction of being pulled into your warmth. “I’m sorry babe, I’m fuckin’ sorry okay? I was stupid and rash. I shot first and asked questions later, that was wrong.” Nero finally broke down.

“Y-yes, I need to apologize.” Credo panted, his face turned away in shame at admitting his wrongdoing and defeat. “I was blinded by my faith, putting everyone in danger and hurting you. I’m sorry.”

There was a suspenseful pause, Credo and Nero’s bodies and minds still buzzing, hoping that by giving in they would be rewarded.

“H-hey, where the hell are you going?” Nero stammered as you pulled away from them.

“You can’t leave us here like this,” Credo argued as you began to walk away, only bothering to throw a blanket over each of them to cover their still sensitive manhoods.

“You can’t just blueball us like this!”

“I order you to come back… HEY!”

Their shouts and then disgruntled grumbles could be heard all through the house, a victory tune of sorts and something that will be burned into Nero and Credo’s minds from now on so they know never to do such a thing to you again.

==+==+==

I was trying a new dynamic/kink with this one. Not sure if I did it well but I’ll get better with more practice.

V & Credo

Credo’s breathing was long and deep to take in enough air despite the bindings around his bare chest, neck, and arms and his eyes glanced up at the statue of the saviour in the opera house. In his mind, he prayed for forgiveness and understanding, but when you gave the order to kneel, his heart and body did so without hesitation.

V, on the other hand, had no shame or hint of doubt. He knelt for you, the being more precious and sacred to him than any deity. The red jute rope you have used to tie up his body, the way it twisted and folded over itself in intricate patterns, how it restrained his movements, the way your hands had glided over his painted body, it was all a sinful bliss that was more pleasurable and beautiful than any work of art he has encountered before.

And then there was you, sitting atop the stage with more rope in your hands. You could wrap a piece around their heads to gag them, tie their thighs to their calves so they couldn’t stand, hell you could use the ropes to suspend them in the air if you so desired. No matter what you chose to do though, the men before you, with faces as red as the ropes that bound them and eyes hazy with lust, would do anything you asked of them. Even if you ask them to stay still as the heel of your shoe presses down on the bulge of their pants.

V lets out a long, deep moan as his eyes fully closed and his back arches. Credo grits his teeth and turns his head away, as if he could mask the pleasure he felt at submitting to you like this. His hips gave away his inner desires though as they lifted up, forcing more pressure between your foot and his prick.

These two are at your mercy, like two followers desperate for their saviour to bless them. However, unlike Sparda, your sinful gifts were actually given and are enough to drive these men wild. Even when the gift came with some pain, as it did now with you grinding your feet down, both men thanked you.

“Oh dear songbird, our mistress.” V moans, his legs twitching like an all too pleased mut while Credo leans forward to kiss your legs as thanks, his teeth occasionally nipping at your clothes as a hint that he wishes to pull them from your delicious skin. “Thank you for this gift. Please, allow us to pay back your kindness. Let us shower you in the pleasure you deserve. Let us worship you.”

==+==+==

Initially, the only idea I had was the general theme of was religious or sacrilegious since Credo is a devout follower of The Order of the Sword and V has a poetic, old-fashioned, intelligent personality. However, I struggled to build an actual scene around that aside from “fuck in religious building”. Then I started thinking about Kinbaku-bi and added some religious themes and I had it. That’s how a lot of these go, I think of a very loose concept or theme based on the personalities of the two characters and then try to create a scene from it.

Dante & Urizen

You were not privy to what Dante had been planning when he told you he had a “sweet idea”, or what his twin brother Vergil had to do with it. The twins spoke, Vergil got mad, Dante laughed, Vergil huffed and gave in, then walked off “to prepare”, or so Dante had told you when he joined you on the couch again. No amount of questions or tricks gets Dante to spill the beans of his plan. He just gives you a toothy grin and tells you to “buckle up for the ride of your life”. This ride ends up being Urizen sitting on a self-made throne in an abandoned building halfway to being taken over by the forest it resides in.

“Come on baby, don’t be scared, he won’t hurt ya. And he already knows the safe words so don’t worry, just have as much fun as you can. He owes me quite a few so have your fill.” Dante shoots you a wink. Urizen lets out a groan that is more like a growl and he rolls his many eyes.

To help you relax and get into the mood, Dante starts by touching and stripping you while Urizen just observes. And when you still instinctually tense up when one of Urizen’s tentacles approaches you, the self-proclaimed demon king switches tracks.

“Woah there, getting impatient Mr. High and Mighty?” Dante teased, a rare blush painting his cheeks as a slick tentacle slid between his lower set of cheeks.

“The Ms. seems frightened of my touch. Once she sees the pleasure it can bring she will relax and enjoy herself more.” Urizen stated with as much enthusiasm as a man giving a presentation at work. But then it takes on a snide, superior tone. “Is that not what you want Dante?” It was a direct jab meant to strongarm Dante into giving in despite Urizen doing this to pay back a debt. A small way for the demon king to assert power.

“You’re not wrong,” Dante admitted, trying to keep up a confident, unbothered demeanour. “Hope you enjoy the show baby girl.”

Dante’s focus stuck to you, but between his kisses and remarks were gasps, hisses, and moans as the tentacles explored. You could feel his body jolt when Urizen first shot him with a spray of lubricant. Then, as he finally entered you, you could see the strain in his expression and how his body tensed as a tentacle also entered him. His thrusts were uneven, but not out of choice. Sometimes Urizen thrust in time with Dante, and other times he would suddenly slam into Dante, forcing him forward and into you. And when Urizen also entered your backend, he pretty much took control of the pace.

“You both fell in line so quickly.” Urizen comments as he looks down at you and Dante, both lying on your sides, surrounded by tentacles that wrap, slither, vibrate, and stroke your naked bodies in the nest of pleasure. Dante, lost in lust due to still fucking you while also being fucked, couldn’t stay still. His lips wouldn’t leave yours, giving you barely the space to breathe with his tongue, partially triggered to be longer, ravaged you. One of his hands was holding the back of your neck in a possessive gesture while his other arm was holding one of your legs up, making it easier for both him and Urizen to thrust into you. “You creatures are slaves to lust.”

==+==+==

This one I started with a vague idea of Dante starting the threesome for fun and also being fucked by tentacles. I began writing and was like “I’ll figure it out as I go”. I then proceeded to create a story progression as wiggling as one of Urizen’s tentacles that has not the best structure. Oh well, hope you like the mental images.

Vergil & Urizen

As your consciousness drifts back to the waking world, you are met with the chatter of many creatures speaking in their own ways yet are somehow communicating. None were speaking to you, not out of malice or disrespect though. They simply did not realize their queen was awake. They were addressing their rulers, one of which you were snuggled up against while he was snug inside you.

“And have you delivered the message to the Fire Hell that their days are numbered if they don’t comply?” Asked Vergil to whatever demon servant was present. His warm breath glided over your hair when he spoke, tickling the nerves ever so slightly. Both his arms were down on the armrests of his thrown as if you being in his lap came as naturally to him as wearing clothes.

To be fair, you spent more time in one of their laps than in your seat. You had your own place, but your husbands both preferred you use them as your thrown, draped in sheer cloth and jewels like a living sculpture that is to be witnessed, marveled, and longed for by all, but not approached as only Urizen and Vergil has the right to touch you.

When your brain processed the limp cock still buried inside of you, your insides unconsciously clench down. The sensation of your inner walls constricting around him made Vergil groan, one hand clenching his armrest while the other snapped up to grasp your already stained and torn clothes.

“Our queen has awakened.” Came Urizen’s gravelly voice, the mere tone being enough to silence everyone else in the room. His head turns towards you, as do most of his eyes. A few keep watching to make sure no one dares approach you. “Leave us.” He makes a sweeping arm motion over the crowd of people who all tense up, sensing the threat in his command. Despite the impending pain if they disregard his orders, all eyes turn to you for the final decision. It isn’t until you give the okay that all your underlings scatter. Within the minute everyone but you and your pair of kings had left. Now alone, Urizen’s stance, tone, and movements became more relaxed and softer. He reached a hand out toward you slowly so as not to startle you and ran his pointed fingers through your hair, smoothing it down and giving a pleasant scratch. He leaned on one arm of his thrown, towering over you and Vergil, though Vergil was not intimidated by him at all. “How are you? Not too overworked I hope.”

“Definitely still tight enough.” Vergil jumps in, his lips twisted up into an all too pleased grin.

“Being shaped to fit your lovers perfectly is quite the feat.” Urizen compliments as his hand drags down your back. One finger curled under you to poke at where Vergil and you were still connected.

“There is still a lack of energy and strength though.” Vergil becomes a bit more serious as he tucks a finger under your chin and lifts your head, only for it to flop down as soon as he lets go. “I little pick-me-up is needed.”

Urizen gives a nod then pulls his hand away. With his hand as a baton, he controls the roots and branches of the Qliphoth tree, which is what makes up your home and most of the furniture in it. From the ceiling descends a branch with but one fruit on it. One is more than enough for you though. In fact you aren’t even fed the whole thing since it is so hard to grow one. Instead, Urizen uses his claw-like fingers to penetrate the apple-like fruit and cut out a chunk. As soon as the skin is broken, a small fountain of liquid, the colour and power of human blood but with a ripe taste, somewhat like both a sweet apple and a peach, comes pouring out. Urizen and Vergil both make sure said liquid splashes onto you.

“Eat my queen,” Urizen says not as an order, but a request, which is a privilege only you are gifted. “you need your strength for the next round.”

Vergil gently lifts your head towards the fruit piece, leaving you to open your mouth and chew at your own pace. Once you start regaining some energy, with you now being able to sit up on your own, Vergil and Urizen’s attentions shift. Vergil leans in and starts licking up the rivets of juice flowing down from your lips and where you had been sprayed. Urizen, using his powers to lift Vergil’s thrown so you could all be at eye level, does the same. Vergil uses his smaller form to clean harder-to-reach places like your neck, face, and ears. Urizen, on the other hand, takes long sweeping licks along your back, chest, stomach, and lower. With the mixture of intimacy and the power gained from the fruit of the Qliphoth tree, your energy not only refilled but began to overflow. All this energy would be needed though as you could feel Vergil’s cock growing stiff inside of you and Urizen’s tongue starting to lap at your sensitive spots despite having already cleaned off the juice from there.

It was going to be another long day for you all.

==+==+==

I wanted to go for a regal, supervillain overlord kind of thing without being too gross about it. Hopefully, that came across. Also, though I can’t actually decide how the reader feels or reacts to things or that would take people out of it, I also tried to at least imply that the reader here willingly chose to be the Queen for these two Kings, not a kidnapping victim or forced marriage or anything like that. I hope that also got across without taking anyone out of the story too much.

Nero & Urizen

Nero had charged in with good intentions, but his blind rage at seeing you at the mercy of the self-proclaimed Demon King had made his fighting sloppy and left him open. Within minutes Nero was in the same predicament as you, held aloft by tentacles that slithered under his clothes. He thrashed and cursed, but he was outmatched in strength and limbs as he was pulled closer to Urizen sat atop his thrown.

Urizen, for his part, had been oddly interested in you, watching you squirm, pant, and moan as his tentacles explored your body. He could feel you through the tentacles, your warmth, your softness, even your scent. It was captivating to him, stirring something within him other than a lust for power that he had never felt in his short existence. When Nero had entered the equation, he saw such a pitiful creature as nothing but a nuisance and distraction, so pined him down just to stop him. The tentacles did the same exploration to Nero purely because Urizen was so focused on feeling and revealing your body that the other tentacles, with no real orders, did the same to their captives. Nero was of no interest to him, that is until you moaned out Nero’s name. Your body, though already sensitive to the tentacles, reacted differently when you bore witness to Nero’s begrudging pleasure.

“You mean something to this woman,” Urizen said, some of his eyes turning to look at Nero, his voice the usual gruff gravitas but with an underlining sense of intrigue and jealousy.

“Fuck you.” Was Nero’s response to this, his breath heavy as he tried to repress the waves of pleasure he received from the tentacles flicking at his nipples and coiling around his painfully hard cock. Urizen did not grace Nero with further words, instead turning his attention back to you and the way your pussy clenched and dripped not just from the tentacle massaging your clit but from watching Nero’s penis be stroked and his chiseled chest being revealed as a tentacle ripped the fabric of his shirt open. This rush in you… it was beautiful to Urizen. It ignited feelings and sensations in Urizen that he could not understand yet but knew that he needed more.

The tentacles brought you and Nero closer together and worked to find what ways they could touch you to heighten the desire between you two. The experimentation grew more intense and brought you closer together until the preverbal pieces fit together.

“The hell do you think you're doing jackass?” Nero asked as you were twisted into a horizontal position and your legs were pulled open. When Nero was brought closer, nestled between your legs, realization hinted Nero. “No, fuck off, what is wrong with you!?” Nero cursed, thrashed, and fought harder than before, but was ignored by Urizen who was wholly focused on how your body reacted to Nero’s body being put between your legs. The tentacle coiled around Nero’s cock pulled away but stayed close enough to aim the prick towards your core. There was no stopping what was about to happen. “I’m sorry,” Nero said in a mix of a moan and a whimper. He felt he had to, not only for what was about to happen, but also because of how excited he was for it, how much he wanted you from the moment he stepped into the room and saw you being pleasured. His jealous anger was going to be satisfied, and he hated how quickly he gave in.

==+==+==

Just like the Nero & Vergil part last time, the base idea of being forced to fuck by a giant has been in my brain for years. Now I get to use it. Thank you Nero for letting me get all these weird thoughts out of my head, lol.

V & Urizen

“It’s alright my love.” V coos affectionately as he stroked your hair and held your head to his chest. “There is no need to panic, you know I would never let anything harm you. Thrashing around like that will only make things harder on you. So just relax and let it happen.” He grabs one of your legs and gently moves it to spread your legs, giving more room for the tentacles to move, prod, and release onto your core.

“You are far too tight,” Urizen said trying to sound intimidating though it teetered on sounding like a disgruntled grumble, which was more accurate to what he was feeling. He could feel through the tentacles. It was as if his own finger was sliding betwixt your folds, spreading the lubricant both he and you were creating around, and gently pressing against your entrance, desperate to be let in. “Is this not enough slick? Do you require more?” Suddenly the tentacle pulled back and released a large spray of slickness that covered not just your core, but also splashed onto your stomach, chest, and onto V as well. At least it smelled sweet, like fruit.

“So impatient.” V chuckled as he whipped off the slick that had hit him with his long, thin fingers. “My apologies love, my other half did not inherit any of my grace or understanding of anticipation.” V lifted his fingers to your mouth, motioning for you to lick him clean. The slick also tasted of fruits and had a healing and energizing quality to it. Clearly V wanted you to keep up your energy for the long haul. As you accepted his offering, he looked up at Urizen. “Our precious darling is used to the manhood of us when we are one. This is a new experience for them and it will take a lot of gentle coaxing.” Once you finish cleaning off his fingers, V uses his hand to grab one of yours and bring it to his cock, making you wrap your fingers around the already hard shaft and start stroking. “Just take things slow my dear and focus on me.”

For a while you did, getting into a rhythmic pattern. Sadly it was harshly shattered when one of Urizen’s tentacles slammed into you, forcing itself through your now-relaxed muscles before they could clench up again. Urizen had gotten impatient, and honestly rather jealous of his other half, so took matters into his own hands. Thankfully the penetration did not hurt all that much and was more so shocking. Still, V shot Urizen a glare.

“Clearly you lack the ability to listen as well.” V held you a little closer to his chest as if he would shield you from the feeling of the tentacle twisting, sliding, and exploring your insides like a snake looking for a place to borrow.

“Silence,” Urizen spoke in defiance, a somewhat satisfied smile coming to his lips as he watched your reaction and felt your moist heat wrapped tightly around him through the tentacle. “They are fine. Besides, going so slow and delicate will never prepare her for the real test.” Urizen sat back a bit and started stroking his own cock which was the size of your whole arm.

“Alright.” V sighed, his free hand moving down to stroke your stomach soothingly. “I suppose he is right my love. I apologize for the rough treatment. Although, we did warn you when you requested to have all of Vergil, the good, the bad, the romantic, the animalistic, the rough, and the gentle.”

==+==+==

I wrote this instead of going to sleep on time for work the next day. I make good, healthy decisions.

Urizen & Nelo Angelo

The impact of Nelo Angelo being thrown to the ground shook the room along with your eardrums due to the thud and shout of pain from the fallen dark knight.

“Is this truly what you crave?” Urizen asked with unprecedented rage. The sight of him at his weakest is an insult as is, but to see your desire to help this insignificant weakling has set him spiralling. “You wish to waste your time saving this pathetic creature? Fine then, prove for yourself how inferior it is.” You, being held in Urizen’s hand, were shoved down onto Nelo Angelo.

Thankfully Urizen had already forcefully ripped most of Nelo Angelo’s armour off so you weren’t pressing your chest against hot demonic metal. On the other hand, Nelo Angelo had spent so long in the armour that feeling your skin on his cold, pale skin sent a jolt through him. He took in a heavy gasp that turned into a moan as the breath was released. Feeling anyone was more intimate than he had felt in a decade, but the fact that it was you was enough to get him hard.

You had been told by V, who was the one that suddenly appeared with Nelo Angelo in tow, that making love to him would bring him back to his senses. Urizen had caught you at the beginning of this process and his reaction was visceral. Still, the chance of saving Nelo Angelo was there and it wasn’t like Urizen was going to let you two go, so the process continued.

Nelo Angelo, battered, bruised, and confused, struggled to participate in the lovemaking, but at least he reciprocated. When you kissed him he kissed back. When you wrapped your arms around him as best you could, his arms would snake around you as well. And once you two have joined and your hips start rolling, Nelo Angelo moves in the same rhythm so his cock can be buried as deep inside you as possible. This, however, ends up being both your undoing.

Urizen watches as you two grow closer, more intimate, and it infuriates him further. Suddenly, just as you were about you reach your peak, Urizen’s fingers wrap around your body and rips you away from Nelo Angelo.

“Your essence will not to be wasted on scum like that.” Urizen uses his other hand to press one of his fingers against your needy hole desperate to be filled back up. One of Urizen’s fingers, though thinner than Nelo Angelo’s hardened cock, greedily took the job. He did not give you time to adjust to the change in size and shape though as his finger fucked you quickly and roughly. “You are not to waste your body on trash like that. You belong to someone superior. You belong to me.” Urizen growled.

And as you are practically dragged to the peak of ecstasy, you look down at Nelo Angelo still splayed out on the floor, his cock hard and but a sliver of recognition in his eyes that was fading without your embrace.

==+==+==

I was going for a mean, sad, angry sex kind of feeling which I think I did get across, but does that make it not sexy anymore? I’m kind of just sad now.

Nelo Angelo & Credo

Credo knew of Nelo Angelo before he appeared on the island, having been subject to Agnus’ rantings and raving, so was prepared to test his combat skills with him. But fate had a different idea. Nelo Angelo had no interest in fighting, only throwing aside any creature or thing that got in his way as he marched towards his goal, the one thing his heart and broken mind were still clinging to, you. The Order of the Sword, seeing this as an opportunity to gain more knowledge and power, used you as bait and trapped you in a room with Nelo Angelo with a wall made of glass so your interaction could be observed. The one saving grace you were given, if only to make sure you survive long enough for data to be collected, was Credo. Unbeknownst to everyone but yourself, you were now trapped in a room with your past and current loves, both feeding off of each other’s aggression and desire to dominate and win you over.

“You damned demon, you’re hurting her!” Credo said, his voice distorted from being in his angelic form, as he used his shield arm to force a wedge between you and Nelo Angelo.

The sudden intrusion caused Nelo Angelo to halt his movements and release your legs from the spread eagle he had put you in. His cock slid out of you, but with how long you have been ravaged your core did not tighten and close right away. It stayed open a bit, framed by red, raw skin from Nelo Angelo’s armour, leaving it so very empty and sore. This was something Credo could not bear to see.

Without a word, Credo replaced Nelo Angelo in front of you and between your legs like it was his right and duty to care for you. It was not aftercare he provided though. Instead, his own manhood, lengthened and hardened more than usual due to his angelic form, filled up your empty hole. Though his penis was harder than Nelo Angelo’s, the rest of him was softer. The feathers surrounding his thighs and lining either side of his crotch were silky and pillowy, providing relief like a cool water-soaked cloth on the forehead. The forced spread eagle Nelo Angelo had put you in was also dropped, letting your muscles relax as they were made to encircle Credo’s feather-covered waist. Credo’s movements were slow and precise, trained to please you in the perfect way without overexerting you. It was a break from Nelo Angelo’s rougher treatment, though it did not last forever.

Soon Nelo Angelo became impatient. He grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you to lay down on your back over the table in the room, your head hanging upside-down off it. You get a glimpse of the glass wall where The Order of the Sword’s scientists are watching the scene unfold before Nelo Angelo blocks your view, his arousal hanging in front of your mouth waiting to be let in.

As you are about to be taken at both ends, an uncertainty hangs in the air. How long will this testing go on for?

==+==+==

I had an initial idea but then I thought about a fanfiction I read on Tumblr where the reader and Leon Kennedy, infected with the Las Plagas, are put in a room to be studied as Leon ravages reader and tries to impregnate her. I forgot who wrote it and I can’t find it! :< But if I find it again or if someone recognizes it and can send it to me, I will link it here. I really liked that story and decided that that kind of scenario would fit best with Credo and Nelo Angelo so I switched it. I’ll use the original idea for a different pair.

Credo & Urizen

Urizen is sitting on his throne. In front of him stood Credo in his angelic form. Credo’s legs shook and his hands flexed, itching to pounce on you. You were kneeling on the floor panting and shaking, drenched in the slick from Urizen’s tentacles. The substance soaked into the shreds that were once your clothes, making them somewhat transparent and cling to your dirty skin, but thankfully smelt pleasant to you. To Credo though, along with your own scent, was a pheromone, an intense aphrodisiac that was infecting his mind and body, demanding him to step closer.

“Go my general,” Urizen urges, though with his natural voice, it sounds like an order. “Look into the eyes of the person whom you have desired for so long but contradictory human beliefs told you you could not have and unleash onto them all of the lust they have caused in you.” This was a gift, or so Urizen claimed. In reality, this was more of a bribe. Urizen had heard tales of how exceptional Credo, captain of the Holly Knights, was and strived to recruit him to his army. It had been a challenge though as Credo had clung to the idea that he was a righteous angel. What luck though that the person that Urizen had already intended to take as his own also happened to be Credo’s weakness. “Let the desire flow through you and revel in the power you now hold.”

Credo hesitated, transfixed by the way the tentacles continued to pour the liquid onto you, a waterfall of slickness that made it impossible for your hair to stay in one place but kept you on the floor in a puddle so slippery that you had no friction to stand or crawl. Urizen guides him forward using his tendrils all while continuing to encourage him to make use of this opportunity, to assert his dominance, and to relieve himself of the bottled-up desire. You look up at him, perhaps pleading for more or glaring up at him, calling him the monster you always thought he was. No matter what, all three of you… you know that no matter what you do or say, Urizen will not be letting you leave, even after you pass out from pleasure.

When Credo does finally give in, stepping forward and enacting the countless scenarios he has imagined of you while living in Fortuna, Urizen will praise him, feeling satisfied in, as he believes, how this moment has grown the bond between you all and brought you closer to accepting your role as the future queen of the demons and humans.

==+==+==

Hmm… I’m not sure about this one. I like it, but it also seems messy…

Urizen & Sparda

You have been hand-chosen by the rulers of both the underworld and the human world to aid them in a mission of the utmost importance. You were found by Lord Sparda, the man who took down the old king of the underworld, Mundus. Sparda took you to Urizen, the demon that started conquering the human world and who Sparda made truths with rather than an enemy. Both these creatures had agreed that you were perfect to carry out this critical mission. You are to be the vessel for which their heirs would be born.

“To think,” Came Urizen’s thunderous, rumbling voice as he gazed down at you cradled in his tentacles. His breath was still heavy, though, for pride's sake, he tried to hide how heart-pounding the moment had been for him. “that seeing you like this, swollen with my seed, would be so satisfying and beautiful.” He reached out a finger and gently caressed your abdomen which was now enlarged due to the egg nestled inside you.

“Well done my friend,” Sparda said both as a compliment and to gain Urizen’s attention. “Now it is my turn.” There was a bit of impatience in his tone. Urizen hesitated for a moment, reluctant to let you go so soon after, but he had made a deal. Plus, Sparda’s hunger was starting to transcend into dominating anger. You were lowered down into Sparda’s awaiting arms who cradled you to his chest in the bridal position. “There you are, my dear.” Sparda’s voice was affectionate and still held a regal edge to it. He carried you towards a platform made of soft leaves and flowers which Sparda had requested be made for this event. “You have been doing so well for us, accepting Urizen’s seed. And now…” You are laid down on the plush, natural bed and Sparda quickly slots himself between your legs. He had a fire in his eyes and his body was tense with anticipation as he reached down and started undoing his belt. “It is time for me to fertilize you.”

==+==+==

Surprisingly enough, coming up with the base idea for this was not that hard, it popped into my head really fast. What I struggled with was deciding who would give you the egg and who would fertilize it since Sparda is a demon with bug features, which lays eggs for the most part. However, he also has other animal parts like hooves and an upside-down fish mouth. Urizen has tree features. Trees do make goopy sticky things, but they reproduce with seeds, which is another form of egg. Thankfully my editor helped me choose and when I apologized for asking them weird questions about my weird stories they said “Not weird, imaginative.”. Ahhh, I love them so much!

Sparda & Credo

All you could see right now was Credo staring at you as you did both the most worshipful and sinful thing imaginable. You were a lady of the church and you had been left to start a task while Credo momentarily stepped out to grab something. However, with the express knowledge that he would soon be returning, your devotion to Sparda was being rewarded by the saviour himself. And Credo was able to fully bear witness to this giving of the gift as Sparda had a hold on your thighs, holding them open and using them as leverage to lift and lower you onto his cock. A cock, which needs to be said, was buried in your ass. Sparda’s pace was rather fast, but when he noticed Credo, he slowed to address the captain.

“Come, kneel before me,” Sparda ordered. His lips curled up into a pleased smile when Credo did as told with little hesitation. “Good. Now aid me in my mission.” Sparda pulls open your legs a bit wider to draw Credo’s attention to your currently dripping cunt which glistened with unused slick. “Let go of formalities, put aside inhibition, and embrace the natural desire within you.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The task was left purposely vague, allowing Credo to proceed as he wished. And what he wished was to taste the sweet nectar unjustly being neglected. Credo moved forward, keeping his hands on his thighs to keep his posture more polite and structured, and brought his face closer to your core. “Thank you for this gift,” he breathed just before his tongue stretched out so the tip could drag along your skin. From your lips to your inner thighs, and even down to your perineum. It was as if he was teasing himself, holding back to make the final dive between your folds all the sweeter.

“Look, my dearest,” Sparda said, his soft tone making it an encouragement rather than an order. Though his solid thrusts up into you muddled your perception of the intensity. He pressed his head up against the side of yours, nuzzling you in an affectionate, almost animalistic way. “See how he adores you. Feel what it is like to be worshiped, as you deserve.”

==+==+==

I am quickly realizing that I keep putting Credo in a similar submissive position of doing as ordered. It fits his character since he followed The Order of the Sword and Sanctus way past where a reasonable person would. And for Sparda, he does not really have a set-in-stone personality, so I just keep messing with it, lol.

Nelo Angelo & Sparda

You are surrounded by lush, silky fabrics and cushions. Your body is sunk into the bed the perfect amount and the countless pillows cushioning and circling your head is like a nest of comfort and luxury. The room is quiet, the gentle light of the morning casting through the windows but not directly on you. The distant, gentle sound of the fountain outside and birds singing can barely be heard along with the soft breaths and mouth sounds of the men showering you with affection. Nelo Angelo, free from his armour so you can see his pale skin and striking blue veins, is to your right pressing featherlight kisses along your chest while one of his hands caresses the opposite side of your chest and your side. His eyes stay closed for the most part as he focuses on bringing you soft, calm pleasure. They rarely flutter open so you can see his red orbs. Sparda lay between your legs peppering kisses along them, paying special attention to your inner thighs. His eyes remain focused on you, watching the way your body flexes and twitches in response to their combined touch and gauging your emotions to make sure you are enjoying yourself and changing tactics if you aren’t.

Everything is so soft, gentle, quiet, and smooth… it is almost enough to make you forget that you had been plucked from your normal life and locked up in the tower of the rulers of the underworld’s castle like a princess from a fairytale.

“Don’t be afraid my dear,” Sparda whispers as his kisses draw closer and closer to your sex. “Let us wash away all your concerns, fears, and responsibilities.”

Nelo Angelo shifts closer, laying lengthwise beside you so you can feel most of his body and how much bigger he is than you.

“We can do everything for you and give you anything you desire. We can drown you in luxury and passion, let you be free from any work and just enjoy the pleasures of life. All you have to do is agree to be our queen.”

==+==+==

I also wrote this one while slowly falling asleep. I had a good nap though. This is based off of this vague memory I have which I am 60% sure I imagined of the protagonist of a female-oriented show getting kidnapped by a bad guy that loved them. They chained her to the bed and tried to convince her to join him, but no NSFW stuff happened. My head tells me it was from Sailor Moon but my head also says I made that shit up. IDK, maybe someone else remembers it too.

Kat & Reboot Dante

“Are you sure about this?” Kat asked as she moved above Dante’s head. You were already impaled on his cock so Kat was the only one not yet in place.

“Fuck ya.” Dante practically panted as he looked up at Kat’s glistening cunt like a hungry dog waiting for its next meal. “Come on Kat, put all your weight on me, you know I can take it. I wanna drown in you.” One of his hands left your rolling hips to grab the space between Kat’s leg and torso, then pulled on her to encourage her to take the final plunge.

With a gulp and a deep breath, Kat lowers herself and instantly jolts when Dante’s tongue darts out to meet her. With you and her facing each other, you could see how tense her body was and how she instinctually tried to jerk away from Dante’s mouth who was not going easy on her. Her face was bright red and her eyes closed, a sign that she was still embarrassed as this was her first time being intimate with you both. As if begging for comfort, she lifted her shaky arms out to you. As you embrace, her arms wrap around your neck and she pulls you in for gentle kisses, a contrast to how intense Dante was moving beneath you both. His aggressive motions made both of you bounce, you a fair bit and her a little but she matched your movements, her chest jiggled as it pressed against yours, and even through the soft mounds, you could still feel how hard and fast her heart was pumping. You were her rock while Dante was her wave.

As for Dante? Well, he was in heaven. He had two of the smokin’ hottest people he had ever seen smothering him. In this position he had the perfect concoction of being in control and submissive, and of being the center of attention and voyeuristic viewing, or listening in his case. Kat’s and your primary pleasure was coming from him, his cock and tongue. The way you and Kat bounced and grinded against him gave him that masculine pride based in sexual prowess. He could manipulate you both, making you both stutter in your movements and let out sharp gasps and moans by suddenly slamming up into you or taking Kat’s clit between his lips and sucking harshly. At the same time, he is under you both, making his movements limited. He could move his mouth and buck his hips a bit, but if you two really wanted to you could put all your weight on him, stopping his movements, or pull away from him, leaving him needy and cold. You both were largely relying on him, yet he knew you two were satisfying each other. If he slowed his movements he could listen to the sloppy sounds of lips and tongues moving against each other desperately. He could feel from where your weight lay who was leaning in. Though it was a little frustrating that he did not actually get to see Kat groping your chest or you sucking on her tit. But he was stuck like this, unable to escape this pleasure. That was more of a blessing than a curse though, especially when you and Kat come undone on top of him for the first time, soaking his body and mind completely.

==+==+==

I did not mean to write so introspectively but here you go.

Kat & Reboot Vergil

“Don’t look so worried Kat.” Vergil said gently, reaching out his right hand to stroke her head, ending with holding the back of her head to keep her still as he leans into to kiss her temple. “I’ll take care of you.” He promises, kissing her cheek and then her lips all while his left arm was wrapped around your waist, holding you against his side. Seeing as you were all naked, every touch was skin-to-skin. And with his head turned towards Kat you had free reign to kiss and touch him if you wished. “I’ll take care of both of you.” He breathed as his lips parted from hers. He then turned to you, giving you the same treatment. “Lay down on the bed for me in whatever position is comfortable for you both.”

You and Kat climb up onto the bed and she naturally gravitates towards you, unintentionally forcing you to lay on your back so she could rest her head on your shoulder. Your warmth, your heartbeat, the way you stroked her head and shoulders, it was all comforting to her in this new experience. It was a new experience for all of you, but Vergil acted confident, like he had done this countless times before. In reality, he got off on being in control. You and Kat were at his mercy, lying down and looking up at him expectantly.

“Are you sure this is what we should do?” With each of Kat’s words, because she was pressed against you so snuggly, you could feel her breath fan over your skin. “Shouldn’t we do something?” Kat was still not used to being taken care of, even if you have all been in this relationship for a while now. It’s sadly just not the kind of life she has been subject to. This though… this was more.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Vergil verified with a soft chuckle. “Just relax and enjoy yourselves. You both know the safe words.” And so, Vergil began, gently guiding your and Kat’s legs apart. He takes the time to retrieve the bottle of lube from the side table and coat his fingers so as not to cause either of you pain. Then he gently and lovingly started to open you both up, scissoring your respective holes with either hand. He watched your body language carefully to be sure you both were enjoying his touch, even using the extra mental focus to move his hand differently to satisfy you both.

Kat was very vocal, moaning, mewling, sighing, and squealing as her body twisted and twitched in reaction to Vergil’s menstruations. Suddenly her noises stopped and she shifted. She lifted onto her arms and turned to look down at you. Her face was red in embarrassment but her eyes shone with love and longing.

“Can I… kiss you?”

==+==+==

A lot of these stories are rough and intense, but for this one I wanted it to be gentle and sweet. Kat has been through some shit, a real cinnamonroll, and I just want her to be happy and treated nicely.

[rengokuology]

STILL DON'T KNOW MY NAME. . .

KAT HERNANDEZ x FEM! READER

WARNINGS !! drinking, partying, sweet—tooth fluff at the end—

REQUEST: @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 requested. . . could i make a request for kat, like the reader is completely into her but she doesn't believe her since she plays games with other girls?

DEAR REQUESTER, thank you for your patience and time! and again, let my last request, if you have any complaints or want it to be re-done, let me know and i'll get to it!! hope you enjoy reading!!

(takes place between episode 4 — 6 !!)

a breakdown of what was going on during kat and (reader)'s life would be needed now.

first, kat has big fucking feelings for her best friend that flirts with every girl in their school. second, they went to the carnival together and were going to spend the rest of their nights together before kat found her talking with her ex-girlfriend. and third, they still haven't talked as kat gave up trying to express any feelings of love for her, distancing and ignoring her existence.

but, you know what? (reader) didn't really want to worry about that right now. she wanted to drink away her sorrows and worries that her and her crush might not get together.

and that's what she did. she dressed as an injured and fully clothed jessica from 'until dawn' and definitely was far from sober.

while kat dressed up as a nun and slowly started swallowing shots while ignoring (reader), who laid on the couch, holding the vodka bottle to her chest and stared up at kat from the armrest, slowly growing jealous at the conversation that ethan and kat were having. and her glare burning into ethan spoke a fuck ton about it.

ethan left kat, obviously feeling awkward about what they talked about. what did they talk about? but really, (reader) didn't really care.

kat turned back forward and noticed (reader)'s drunken gaze at her. it wasn't sexual or anything, just pure jealous and slight anger at kat.

kat just walked away from the counter, annoyed at her gaze as it followed her into the crowd kat went into.

a few minutes later, (reader) is in the crowd of drunken, smoking or horny teens that are dancing and swaying to the poppy music as she just stood there, the room slightly rotating as she walked through the crowd, still having a tight clutch onto the bottle.

she then bumped into someone without noticing, muttering a small 'sorry' as she looked to see who it was.

kat.

"sorry." kat tried walking away before (reader) grabbed her arm.

"what the fuck are you doing? let me go." (reader) let kat go but scoffed at her.

"so you could ignore me again?" (reader) tilted her head, a lazy but annoyed expression on her face.

"i'm not ignoring you, i just need some time alone from you."

"then why didn't you tell me?" (reader) was confused as she looked straight at kat but didn't get an answer from her.

"look, kat. . . i fucking love you. and i want to date. i wanna be with you but i can't if you're going to pretend i don't even exist." (reader) admitted to kat, loosening her grip on the clear, glass bottle but kat scoffed at her confession, thinking she was joking.

"(reader), you're drunk, you-" "i might be less than sober but i'm not drunk out of my mind to not remember what i'm saying to you."

(reader)'s chest raised up and down as her anxiety spiked through the air as the two held eye contact.

"just. . . please. i love you." (reader) let out a breathy sentence, now staring at kat's lips with want to kiss them.

kat didn't believe her though, shaking her head at (reader).

"this isn't some fucking game. you don't get to play with my feelings." kat held an angry expression on her face as she spoke, frowning at her.

(reader) sighed as she gently cupped kat's face, inching closer and closer to her face.

"are you ok with this?" kat was frozen before nodding a little as (reader) pressed her lips against hers, kissing her as she grabbed onto her waist.

"now do you believe me?" (reader) whispered, pressing their noses against each other.

kat didn't answer as she pulled herself onto (reader)'s lips again as the vodka bottle fell, smashing into the ground as 'still don't know my name' by labrinth played in the background.

the two separated again, holding onto each other, everything around them feeling hazy, just the two of them holding each other. it genuinely felt unreal as (reader) started to finally feel the vodka rushing into her head.

but to (reader), it didn't matter. to her, all that mattered was kat and her. only them.

AUTHORS NOTE, hello again!! sorry if this kinda sucked again and to my requester, again, if you want it to be redone, please let me know so i can do that for you but thank you for reading!!

[random-content-from-4by22]

made this instead of doing something else.

i do want to say I am getting a desperate, but by GOD I am desperate for some reboot dmc requests.

[greenteasoup]

masterlist [strikethrough means wip]

before you read: some fics have smut (they will be labeled as such). if that makes you uncomfortable, if you are UNDER 16, or any other reason, please do not read. you are not my intended audience.

shane walsh

uh, guys? the barn is full of walkers.. (smut)

stanislaus "kat" katczinsky

kat arrives home on leave

bathing kat

being with kat (smut)

[xspeter]

do yall ever think about the jaw dropping fics that are probably sitting collecting dust in someone’s drafts rn.

[ryukatters]

bf!bkg ignoring you because you won’t call him baby or handsome or whatever nickname you usually call him

“Katsuki— have you seen my charger? I can’t find it anywhere.”

You call out as you make your way down the hall from your bedroom. Your boyfriend is sitting on the couch, having a rotting party all by his lonesome to really live out his day off. It’s a rare occurrence for him to be so inactive, but you surmise even pro heroes can be lazy every once in a while.

“Kats?”

Still nothing. You know for a fact that he can hear you, because you can see the way he subconsciously perks up the minute you say something. Definitely charming, but not enough to quell the growing mix of irritation and worry (mostly worry) brewing inside the pits of your stomach.

You make your way across the living room, standing in front of his place on the couch. He’s still not looking at you. No matter, you just decide to straddle him instead. His hands automatically find purchase on your hips, fingers just a few millimeters shy of your ass.

“Katsuki. What’s wrong?”

“Dunno who that is,” he huffs, head turning to the side so you can’t see the way his lips quirk down into a pout. (Because he swears up and down that’s something he never does.)

“Kats?”

“No.”

“‘Suki?”

“Close, but still no.”

“Baby?”

“Yeah, baby?”

"Have you seen my charger, handsome?"

"In your desk drawer on the right."

You smile. You press an innocent kiss to the tip of his nose. He pulls you flush against him before you can pull away, capturing your lips with his, appreciating the way the two of you meld against each other. He tries not to look too disappointed when you lift yourself off him and stand up. You lean down to give him a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

"Love you, Katsuki."

"Think you've got the wrong guy, sweetheart."

[a-ikuoliver]

happy birthday to the man!! — katsuki sees your sex toys once and is haunted by what you look like using them

pairing: bakugou x f!reader w/c: 1.5k warning/s: nsfw 18+, m! & f!masturbation; sex toys, i think that's everything notes: this is a bit short BUT i had to get something out for the man, this took me like 2 weeks to write but hopefully now i'll be out of my slump a little bit! pls enjoy c:

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

fuck… he really doesn’t know when the lines started to blur between friend and fantasy, from wanting to hang out with you to wanting you, from talking to you about your day to being bricked up hearing your voice. yet, here he was, hot water streaming down his neck, plastering damp hair to his forehead; the water pouring over his head nowhere near enough to wash his mind of you.

he’d been plagued by you, morning to night, even in his damn dreams since he tried to find a phone charger at your place.

it’s not like he was snooping, he wasn’t trying to find that sort of thing, bakugou was only trying to find your spare charger, he’d seen you put it in one of these drawers before, how was he meant to know you left your spare chargers right below all of that?

he’d slammed the drawer shut the absolute second he realised exactly what he was staring at; the bedside drawer stuffed to the brim with bright, phallic toys, a collection of smaller, rounder vibrators, something that looked awfully similar to a gag, and he heard the telltale metal clinking of at least one pair of handcuffs against the wood when he slammed it closed. embarrassing heat crawled up his neck, burning his cheeks and setting the very tips of his ears alight. stuck in the same spot, mouth half opened dumbly, his eyebrows creased in the centre of his face, all blood rushing from his brain down to his half-hard cock already straining against his pants, the need making him ache.

every hour since that, he’d spent thinking of what your wet cunt looked like swallowing the toys; so pretty and drippy, how it looked tensing around nothing when you came from the buzzing of your vibrator, how you’d look writhing and moaning handcuffed with that gag in your mouth, how your drool would stain your shirt, sticking the fabric to your skin. god, it was just so lewd, even under the purifying water, he felt dizzy, sticky, hot, sweaty, the image of your toys burnt into his retinas, no matter what he tried to distract himself with, he always saw your toys at the forefront of his mind, the perverted imagery refusing to budge from its newfound home.

bakugou groans, a deep, rough sound drowned out by the even buzzing echoing in his ears, the sound slowly building, kicking to a new level when your whine drowns it out. you always start nearly silent in his dreams, just tiny gasps escaping your parted lips when you’d nestle the toy right against your clit. you only get louder from there, your eyebrows scrunching together like his own were, marking two little tallies in the middle, tilting upwards at the centre as you pulled your lip up between your teeth. the motion did absolutely nothing to muffle your sounds, your whimpers and moans only growing louder with every heave of your chest, every passing moment with the vibrator pressed to your pulsing clit making your hips jolt into it.

you reach between your thighs with a whine that sounds all too similar to his name torn from your lips, dipping your fingertips in your slick cunt, collecting all the cum gathering at your trembling hole without even taking a breather from humping your vibrator like your life depended on it. your movements grew jerkier and jerkier the longer the intense vibrations were held to your drooling pussy, your eyes fluttering closed with a breathless shout of his name, shaky, wet thighs squeezing around your hand, even as the vibrator slipped from your grip, falling forgotten onto the sheets beneath you, the constant stimulation growing too much for you—

“fuck.” he really couldn’t help it, his hand travelling lower down his abdomen, trailing behind droplets of water still running down his torso to his hard cock, the tip already leaking from the thought of you. wrapping his fist around the base of his cock, he squeezed once before twisting his wrist, slowly jerking his cock, wondering if you were in your shower doing the same, fucking yourself on one of your toys imagining him in its place just as he wished it was your warm cunt squeezing around his dick instead of his hand.

“katsukiii—” bakugou can feel you beside him, your figure displacing the dense steam surrounding him, a heavy, thick silicone dildo hanging from the glass wall of the shower, your figure slick and soapy from the shower, damp hair sticking to the soft skin of your neck and face when you bent at the waist, lining the tip of the plastic cock up with your drooling hole. the head of the cock would slide into your cunt all too easily in his fantasies, always greedy to watch you take more and more, inch by inch sinking onto it. your mouth falls further open the more you take of the toy, the pleasure too much for you to even hold your head up by the time your ass was pressed against the cool glass, your back arching with the tip of the dildo nestled deep inside your cunt. he wonders if the curve of it would rub on your g-spot at this angle, if it would drive you crazy grinding against the glass, whining when you can’t take it anymore.

bakugou’s head falls back thinking of you reaching for the shower head, his cock pulsing in his hand when he grips the base, his muscles tensing and relaxing while he tried desperately not to cum; the image of you playing behind his eyelids making that a near impossible task. even with his eyes squeezed shut, there you are at the forefront of his mind, switching the settings of the shower head to a concentrated stream, aimed directly at your aching clit, your broken moan jolting his hips forward into his hand, stroking the length languidly. your voice wavered, repeating his name again, the stimulation inside and outside your cunt just so overwhelming.

bracing against the tile with your spare hand, you lift yourself back off the toy, the base suctioned to the glass remaining stuck as you grew quicker in your movements, starting to bounce and roll your hips in a smooth tempo. he matches the pace of your hips with his fist, his breath coming out in nothing but deep huffs. his uneven groans were nothing compared to your sweet chorus of moans and whines, an endless symphony playing in his head of “ah-ah-ah”’s and “mmmng”’s the closer you got, your cum coating the toy just like his pre was smearing all over his fist.

he can’t help the guttural sound that escapes him next, a garbled, broken version of your name when your thighs tremble, your knees only moments away from buckling from the pure bliss; the water is still aimed at your clit, even when you can’t bounce on the dildo anymore, wave after wave of pleasure drowning you until your eyes rolled into your skull and your cum gathered in a creamy ring at the base of the toy, your ass flattening against the glass as you greedily took more of the toy, intensifying the euphoria wracking through your body. he knows your toy fills your cunt so perfectly, knows how you’d hump the air to get more and more of the water aimed at your clit, unrelenting in chasing your orgasm, jolting and jerking until your knuckles turned white against the tile wall, until your voice was so high and loud it didn’t even sound like you anymore.

he wonders if you’d ever screamed taking the fake cock, if you’d ever been so overwhelmed you squealed, your pretty cunt clenching around the toy, milking the poor plastic for everything it can’t give you, or if he’d be the first to make you cum so intensely.

“ka-aa-ki—” you can’t even spit his name out, your name the same mess on his plump lips, caught so hard between sharp teeth he worries he’ll split the thin skin. all his muscles tense, his abdomen clenching low on his stomach, the veins stretching along the underside of his cock throbbing with the need to join you in the throes of pleasure, to cover your cunt in milk white cum you desperately tried to squeeze from the silicone.

your name is a choked mantra tumbling from his lips, over and over again, dark crimson eyes rolling into the back of his skull the longer you bounced on the toy, pinching sensitive nipples between your slippery, soapy fingers, dragging your orgasm out as long as you could, as long as he would, until your knees were weak and your couldn't even manage to dumbly spit out his name anymore.

“fuck.” he damn near whines, a mess of cum covering his fingers, coating his knuckles as he kept fucking his fist through the waves of his own orgasm, shivering even with the hot water running down his body, cleaning his hand even as he continued to stroke his cock, relaxing his muscles as his toes still curled, his knuckles stark white against the tile.

his head fell forward onto the cooling tile, a temporary relief for the haziness swirling around in the steam.

shit, how was he meant to look you in the eyes after this?

© all works belong to @a-ikuoliver, @gwen0m, and dlirious on archive of our own, do not plagiarise, translate, repost, feed my works into ai or recommend my work on other platforms, or bind my fanworks for sale.

[kitkatscabinet]

Nothing fucks with my baby

Simon Riley x wife reader

Summary: Simon is the Earth orbiting your sun and he'll do anything to keep you safe and happy, even if that means resorting to bloody means.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: attempted non-con (not by Simon)

@ghosts-cyphera for you pookie, hope you enjoy!

Eight months. It’s been eight long, tortuous months since Simon saw you in person. Eight months of living off brief Skype calls interrupted by work schedules and shitty internet cutting out mid-call, an age since he’s touched you. Since he’s breathed in your scent and cradled you against his muscular chest, since he’s tasted you. Pictures of you weren’t enough, even if you’d gifted him a set of delectable Polaroids showcasing your gorgeous body decorated with black and white lingerie.  

Long deployments had never bothered him, not until you’d become the central part of his life. Simon was the Earth, orbiting your sun reverently and fervently. He’d worship you on his knees for eternity if that’s what you desired.

His appetite for you has always been ravenous, but his need for you has been greatly nourished after months of no contact. The door to your shared home swings open with a bang, the anticipation coursing through his veins diminishing his control in a way he knows you’ll scold him for. His bag is dropped carelessly in the foyer as he stalks through the space, a man on a mission to find you. Not even the weary exhaustion after months of shit sleep and shared communal spaces would deter him from his mission. 

You’re not in your home office or the bedroom and Simon’s frustration simmers under his skin as he marches straight back out the door. It’s only the knowledge that you’ll be devastated to have missed his surprise homecoming that tempers his annoyance. 

Ghost is beyond irritated by the time he arrives at your work, not necessarily at you, he knows how seriously you take your career, it’s one of the reasons he was so drawn to you. Once some lowly private had made a snide remark about you being the breadwinner, scoffing at Simon for letting his wife ‘emasculate’ him like that. It was only Price playing damage control that kept him from a dishonourable discharge that day. He had no regrets, especially after the incident taught people to keep your name out of their mouths. 

It’s late, well past working business hours when he keys into the building using the code you’d given specially for him. So it shouldn’t surprise him how empty it is, most of the lights turned off as he made his way to your office, but Simon hadn’t survived over a decade in the military without learning to trust his gut. A distinct uneasiness settles in his body, narrowed eyes surveying the space for anything out of the ordinary as he increases his pace to get to you. 

The light in your office is on, the door is left open carelessly and gives Simon a clear view of the sight of you bent over your desk trying not to cry as a man holds a gun to your head and fumbles with your sleek dress pants. Simon thought he knew rage, but any anger he’s ever felt is drowned in comparison to the sheer righteous fury that alights his veins. 

He closes the gap in record time, red filtering out the corners of his vision and spraying over his knuckles as he rips the interloper away and viciously lays into him. Any slurred words pleading for mercy are ignored and shut down as Simon’s fist renders the man’s mouth an inoperable bloody mess. 

His arm aches furiously by the time he pulls back, chest heaving with breaths that have long since been silenced from the scumbag that now lay dead on the floor of your office. It’s the sound of your shaky sobs that pulls Simon back from the brink, immediately darting towards you, shaky hands stained with blood cradling you against his bulk gently. 

He’s vibrating with an explosive cocktail of fury, fear, outrage and relief. You press yourself tighter against his chest like you’re trying to burrow into the safety of his ribcage. Simon can’t bring himself to speak, mouth dry and tongue heavy as he buries his face into the top of your head. The silence is broken by the shaky inhales of your rattling breaths and sobs. 

All too soon you’re pulling away, even when he fights to keep you safe and sound against his chest. “Simon? What… what’s going to happen with-” You try and turn your gaze towards the corpse staining your carpet but Simon prevents you with a hand grasping your jaw, preventing you from getting a glimpse at the carnage. 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head darling, I’ll take care of it. But first, let's get you home yeah?” He walks you from the building to your car with a supportive arm wrapped around your shoulders, tucking you against his side before sliding you into the passenger seat of your car. It’s a testament to how shaken you are that you don’t protest, remaining silent and clutching the hand that grasps your thigh like a lifeline. 

It doesn’t take long to tuck you into bed, wrapping you tightly in the blanket like it will protect you from the horrors of the outside world. The adrenaline had faded from your body making way for the exhaustion. Simon doesn’t leave your side until he’s sure the clutches of sleep have pulled you under, and even then, it's with extreme hesitation that he stands and leaves the bedroom, reaching for his phone to make a call. 

Luckily, you don’t wake even once in the hours that follow as he waits for news of the cleanup. He spends that time alternating between checking in on you, watching you breathe peacefully and pacing the linoleum floors that you’d insisted on. 

A single knock on the front door pulls him from the spiral of thoughts that threatened to pull him further and further into darkness. He opens the door to an unimpressed Price, who pushes his way in with Gaz and Soap trailing after. Expectantly he stares at them, watching as Price lights a cigar and takes a long drag. 

“It’s done. Did you have to make such a mess though son?” It’s an innocuous enough comment but one that raises Ghost’s hackles anyway and he shoots a venomous glare at his captain that would never have been acceptable in any other circumstances. His shoulders tense and it takes everything in him to keep his voice somewhat level. 

“That fucker laid his hands on my wife!” He inhaled shakily as he remembered what he’d almost been too slow to prevent, unable to prevent the rise of volume as he yelled at his captain, “My wife! He’s lucky I didn’t paint the room with his insides!” The baritone of his booming snarl is loud enough that even Soap flinches slightly with widened eyes. 

There’s a tense silence but his captain nods, something like approval in his gaze before his eyes slide towards the right and Simon turns just in time to witness you call his name, voice hoarse with sleep and eyes red from tears. 

He crosses the space and curls you against him in record time, nonchalantly throwing a dismissive wave towards his team who simply nod in understanding and file back outside. “Were those the boys? You didn’t have to kick them out” you murmured though Simon was already hushing you, leading you back to bed with a firm hand on the small of your back. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout them lovie, they were leavin’ anyway” he waved away your concerns, finally kicking off his shoes, trapping you in his arms and pulling you down onto the mattress. You squeak at his actions, giggling as his stubble tickles the skin of your neck. 

Despite how pent-up and desperate for your touch he is, Simon makes no move to escalate the situation, settling you in his arms and simply breathing you in. Neither of you speak about the earlier incident, not willing to shatter the peace. Though Simon lets out the occasional hum when your hands trace gentle circles over his heart, focusing on the steady beat of his pulse beneath your palm. 

Inevitably the lingering emotions of the day would have to be dealt with, but not yet, Simon would allow himself to relish in the peace just a little longer.

[kxttqi]

⋆.˚ “he’s leaving, you can come over now” prank on jjk men 。

↪︎ gojo, geto, yuuji, megumi, yuuta, toge x f!reader

↪︎ warnings: swearing, suggestive

© kxttqi — do not repost, copy, translate or steal my works without permission.

[animelovelover123]

Devil May Cry Master List

A list and links to all of my Devil May Cry fanfiction works, from 2014 to present. This includes stuff I posted on other sites, not just on Tumblr. I apparently had too many stories to fit on one post so I had to separate them. Here is the list to all lists -> Master of Master Lists

If any of the links are broken or you have suggestions to make the list easier to navigate, let me know.

Pink heart divider by @superawesomelurkaccount

The shity DMC divider was made by me in MS Paint. (Feel free to use it if you want, just give me credit for the mess I made please, thank you.)

Dante x Reader

Devil May Cry Boys Dealing With Your Violent, Emotional Breakdown Surrendering to the Longing of Demons I Want to Feel Fear Devil May Cry Boys Filled With Your Eggs Family Pet AU - Master List Taking Your Virginity Headcanons Devil Trigger Sex Devil May Cry Boys During Threesomes For My Valentine Devil May Cry Boys x Pornstar/Webcam Model Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra

Nero x Reader

Devil May Cry Boys Dealing With Your Violent, Emotional Breakdown Surrendering to the Longing of Demons I Want to Feel Fear Devil May Cry Boys Filled With Your Eggs Family Pet AU - Master List Taking Your Virginity Headcanons Devil Trigger Sex Devil May Cry Boys During Threesomes For My Valentine Nero's Yandere Alphabet Devil May Cry Boys x Pornstar/Webcam Model Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra

V x Reader

Devil May Cry Boys Dealing With Your Violent, Emotional Breakdown Surrendering to the Longing of Demons I Want to Feel Fear Devil May Cry Boys Filled With Your Eggs Family Pet AU - Master List Taking Your Virginity Headcanons Devil Trigger Sex Devil May Cry Boys During Threesomes For My Valentine V's Yandere Alphabet Devil May Cry Boys x Pornstar/Webcam Model Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra

Vergil x Reader

Surrendering to the Longing of Demons I Want to Feel Fear Devil May Cry Boys Filled With Your Eggs Family Pet AU - Master List Taking Your Virginity Headcanons Devil Trigger Sex Devil May Cry Boys During Threesomes For My Valentine Devil May Cry Boys x Pornstar/Webcam Model Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra

Reboot Dante x Reader

Meet at the Beach Devil May Cry Boys Dealing With Your Violent, Emotional Breakdown Surrendering to the Longing of Demons I Want to Feel Fear Devil May Cry Boys Filled With Your Eggs Taking Your Virginity Headcanons Devil Trigger Sex Devil May Cry Boys During Threesomes For My Valentine Devil May Cry Boys x Pornstar/Webcam Model Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra

Reboot Vergil x Reader

Meet at the Beach Devil May Cry Boys Dealing With Your Violent, Emotional Breakdown Surrendering to the Longing of Demons I Want to Feel Fear Devil May Cry Boys Filled With Your Eggs Taking Your Virginity Headcanons Devil Trigger Sex Devil May Cry Boys During Threesomes For My Valentine Devil May Cry Boys x Pornstar/Webcam Model Reboot Vergil's Yandere Alphabet Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra

Sparda x Reader

I Want to Feel Fear Devil May Cry Boys Filled With Your Eggs Family Pet AU - Master List Devil Trigger Sex Devil May Cry Boys x Pornstar/Webcam Model Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra

Dante x Nero

Calm Down Shhh, I'm on the Phone What Now? The Little Things Drinks, Virginity, and Determination I Don't Want Them A heat can’t be that hard to take, can it?

Miscellaneous

For Once in My Life (Either Dante x (Anyone You Want)) Family Pet AU - Master List (Poly Relationship with DMC boys and Trish, Eva, Lady, Kyrie, and Nico.) Devil Trigger Sex (Includes above plus Credo and Nelo Angelo) Devil May Cry Characters During Threesomes Extra (includes above plus Credo, Nelo Angelo, Urizen, and Kat)

[gothcsz]

ugh I want to be sat on javi's desk whilst he tells me to spread my legs so he can see how wet I am for him 😩😩😩

tags: f!reader, lil bit of dirty talk, terms of endearment (amor, baby), established relationship, husband!javi, no use of y/n, smut, unprotected p in v sex (be safe), oral (f), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 3k w/c - gif cred

a/n: two very similar prompts that i have merged together and hope lives up to what you guys were asking for 🖤 thank you @almostempty for finding the gif for me because that's all i was thinking about when i started writing this. also dedicating this to @yxtkiwiyxt because i know you love husband javi 🖤

The soft click of the door shutting behind you barely registers as you slip into his home office. Your eyelids are heavy, the remnants of sleep still tugging at your senses as you blink them away. The clock on the wall reads 3:00 a.m. sharp.

The gentle glow of his desk lamp casts a golden hue over his chiseled profile. It’s a scene you’ve walked into countless times—Javier immersed in his work, utterly focused, documents spread haphazardly across the desk.

“Amor,” his voice scrapes through the quiet, rough and low from hours of silence. He leans back in his chair, the leather groaning softly beneath him, and his arms open, beckoning you close. His dark eyes soften when they meet yours. “What are you doing up?”

You step toward him without hesitation, as though pulled by a force you can’t resist. Sliding onto his lap sideways, you settle yourself against his comforting frame, resting your head in the warm crook of his neck.

The familiar scent of him—a mix of his cologne and the faint, earthy tang of coffee—wraps around you like a blanket. 

“I can’t sleep without you, Javi,” you murmur, pouting slightly as your fingers idly trace patterns on the fabric of his shirt. “You know that.”

His large hand trails up and down your spine in slow, soothing strokes. He presses a tender kiss to the crown of your head, and his sigh feels as heavy as the workload surrounding him. “I know baby,” he murmurs. “I just have a lot to get through before my meeting in the morning.”

You groan in frustration, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. Your lower lip juts out in a way you know he finds irresistible, but it’s not just an act. “Sometimes it feels like you prioritize this,” you say, gesturing toward the chaotic sprawl of documents on his desk, “over me.”

His mustache twitches with a frown, the corners of his mouth tugging downward. “Don’t say that,” the sincerity in his tone clear. “You know that’s not true.”

“Then why are you here instead of in bed with me?” Your tone softens, though the ache of loneliness seeps through.

You know he works hard, tirelessly, to provide for you, to ensure you both have the life you dreamed of. But knowing that doesn’t always make it easier to compete with the demands of his job. Sometimes, it feels like you’re fighting for scraps of his time, his attention.

He doesn’t respond right away, but he doesn’t need to. Over the years, you’ve learned to read every nuance of your husband—the slight crease between his brows, the way his lips press together, the tension in his jaw. Reaching up, you trace a finger along his jawline, your thumb brushing gently over the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

His skin is warm beneath your touch, and you feel the tension in him ebb away, piece by piece.

Javier’s arms tighten around you, one hand resting on your bare thigh, right where your oversized t-shirt rides up, the other pressing into the small of your back. “You want me to come to bed?” 

His warm breath sends a shiver down your spine as his nose skims along your jawline, and you hum in response, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

His lips ghost along your skin, scattering kisses that make your breath hitch. “Seems like I’ve been neglecting my duties. Got my girl sittin’ here, pouting in my lap, begging for attention.” The faint rasp in his voice has lust pooling low in your belly.

A whimper escapes before you can stop it, your hips shifting instinctively against his lap. You’ve missed this—the intensity, the intimacy, the way he always manages to make you feel like the center of his universe, even when life pulls him in every other direction.

His hand inches higher, the rough pad of his thumb brushing against the soft skin of your inner thigh, his knuckles grazing the edge of your cotton panties, sending a spark through your body.

 “Bet she’s warm and wet for me,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear before catching your earlobe between his teeth.

Your thighs part almost involuntarily, “Javi,” you moan, burying your face in his neck, your lips latching onto the spot just below his jaw.

His groan vibrates against you, low and guttural. His free hand comes down hard on your thigh with a satisfying smack, making you yelp and arch in surprise. 

“You can’t be marking me up like that, mi amor. It’s not exactly professional for me to walk into a meeting with a giant hickey.”

You bite back a smirk, your teeth grazing his jaw before whispering, “I don’t care.”

His response is swift and deliberate. The hand that had been teasing between your thighs moves, strong fingers wrapping around your throat in a firm but unyielding grip. He pulls you back from his neck, forcing your gaze to lock with his. The intensity in his dark eyes makes your breath hitch, and the way his thumb brushes the underside of your jaw sends a thrill down your spine.

“Don’t be like this, baby,” he rasps, his tone commanding but laced with affection, his thumb brushing lightly over the delicate skin of your throat.

He leans in, drawing you closer by the grip on your neck, his lips brushing yours so faintly it feels like a tease.

The tickle of his mustache against your skin makes you shiver, your thighs twitching in anticipation. The ache between your legs grows unbearable, and your mind spins with the need to feel him—any part of him. His pretty mouth, his strong hands, his delicious cock… you’d take it all, every piece of him until there was nothing left to take.

“Please,” you whisper, desperation dripping from your voice as you close the sliver of space between you and kiss him. It starts soft, your tongue gliding along his bottom lip before slipping into his mouth, tasting him deeply. He responds with a low groan, his tongue tangling with yours, and the hand at your neck tightens just enough to make your head spin.

You moan into his mouth, your free hand sliding down the front of his shirt, savoring the hard planes of his chest. Your fingers flirt with the cool metal of his belt buckle before venturing lower, cupping his hardening length through his slacks.

The sultry sound that escapes him urges you to palm him, your touch deliberate as you apply more pressure, delighting in the way he twitches beneath your hand.

His hips shift involuntarily, and you squirm on his lap, the dampness between your thighs growing as your neglected pussy aches for attention.

Javier breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down to your jawline, then back to your mouth, where he bites and nips at your bottom lip. His hand moves from your throat to your chest, cupping and kneading your tits through the fabric of your shirt. The feeling has you arching into him, silently begging for more as your nipples pucker.

When his hand slides back between your legs, you let out a shaky breath, your head falling to his shoulder. His thumb traces a teasing line up your soaked slit, the fabric of your panties doing nothing to dull the feeling. He alternates between feather-light touches and firm squeezes of your thighs, keeping you trembling and needy in his lap.

You latch onto his lips again, kissing him feverishly, your desperation bleeding into every movement. The air between you is electric, the sound of wet kisses and shared breaths filling the room. Javier doesn’t pull away, doesn’t rush you—he matches your pace, taking everything you’re giving him and giving it back tenfold.

His thumb circles your clit over your panties, drawing a gasp from your lips that he swallows with a grin. “You’re so wound up, cariño,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “Can’t even think straight, can you?”

You shake your head, a breathy moan spilling from your mouth as he continues to toy with you, always a tease.

Javier’s dark eyes flick up to yours, filled with that commanding intensity that never fails to make your stomach flip. “Sit on the desk.”

Without hesitation, you do as he says, sliding off his lap and onto the edge of the polished wood, your palms bracing against its surface.

You perch there, your knees drawn together, but the look in his eyes tells you he wants more.

Javier rolls his chair forward, the scrape of its legs on the floor adding to the charged atmosphere. He leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your knee. The warmth of his lips against your skin is welcomed, and when he taps your other knee with his fingers, you know exactly what he wants.

“Spread them, baby,” his command is like gravel smoothed by velvet. “Let me see how wet you are.”

Your heart races as you part your legs, the mess between them undeniable. His gaze drops, locking onto the damp spot that has already formed in the center of your panties. A wicked smile tugs at the corner of his lips, and he leans forward, pressing another kiss on your skin—this time on the inside of your knee.

His warm breath fans against your thigh as he drags his tongue along its length, stopping just short of where you ache for him most.

His curved nose nudges against your cunt, and you gasp softly, the intimate gesture making you feel hot all over. He inhales deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as if savoring the scent of you. “Tan rica, amor.”

Javier’s tongue presses against the fabric of your panties, licking a broad, wet stripe that has you quivering under his touch. Your elbows give slightly as you lean back, surrendering to him wholly.

He hums in satisfaction, his hands firm on your thighs to keep you steady and spread as he works you over by tonguing at you over the fabric.

When he hooks a finger under the edge of your panties and pulls them aside, the cool air hits your bare skin, making you whimper. His eyes darken at the sight of your glistening folds, the damp curls surrounding your beautiful pussy, and he lowers his head again, delivering gentle kisses with his plush lips. 

The wet sounds of his mouth meeting your skin are indecently loud, and the lewd intimacy of it has your head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he mutters, his voice muffled against you. “Miss her so much. Miss you.”

The affection in his words melts into the overwhelming pleasure as his tongue dips into your slit, circling your clit with unrelenting precision. A soft moan escapes your lips, and your thighs twitch beneath his touch, unable to resist the way he knows exactly how to undo you.

He grips you tighter, keeping you spread for him as his tongue delves deeper, tasting every heady inch of you. His groans vibrate against your sensitive skin, and the sheer devotion in his actions leaves you trembling, utterly at his mercy.

“Javi,” you moan, his name spilling from your lips as he devours you with an unrelenting hunger. The coarseness of his mustache against your slick folds sends jolts of pleasure through your body, and your hips buck upwards, desperate to feel more of him.

When his teeth graze your swollen clit, you yelp, the sharp edge sensation of it making your back arch as you fall flat against the desk. The crumple of papers beneath you is barely a thought in your mind, overwhelmed as you are by the pleasure of his ministrations.

Your fingers find their way into his hair, tangling in the soft brown curls and tugging hard.

He groans against you, the vibration an added stimulant from the amazing head he’s always giving you. “Oh yes, Javi, just like that,” you gasp, urging him on as your thighs tremble.

His lips close around your clit, sucking harshly, and you feel your breath lodge in your throat. Then he shakes his head, the movement rough and deliberate, and the friction of his facial hair combined with the firm press of his nose against your most sensitive spot has you spiraling.

“Oh fuck!” you cry out, your body trembling as the tension inside you winds tighter and tighter, especially when he stuffs his tongue inside of your fluttering hole, fucking you with it.

Javier pulls back just enough to spit on your cunt, the lewd sound making your body crave him more. His fingers slide through the mix of saliva and your creamy arousal, swirling it around the mouth of your cunt before he plunges two thick fingers deep inside you.

Your back bows off the desk, a yelp tearing from your lips as he sets a rhythm that’s both rough yet fulfilling. His fingers curl and twist just right, pressing against that spot that makes your entire body vibrate and colorful spots dot your vision.

He doesn’t relent, his mouth is back on your clit in an instant, his tongue flicking over it with a precision born from all the hours he’s spent learning your body.

The combined assault of his mouth and fingers is too much and not enough all at once. You’re drowning in the sensations, every nerve alight as he drives you closer to the edge with every pump, every lick. “Javi,” you choke out, your nails scraping against his scalp as the heat in your core threatens to spill over. “I’m gonna—”

He hums against you, doubling down on his efforts as if daring you to let go, and with one final wet, hot suck, you do.

Your orgasm crashes over you, ripping through your body in waves that leave you crying out his name, utterly undone in his hands.

When he pulls away, a glistening string of your essence clings to his swollen lips. His tongue sweeps it up eagerly, savoring you with a deep, satisfied hum, as if he hadn’t just devoured you from the inside out.

You barely register the clink of his belt being undone, the metallic sound followed by the soft rustle of fabric as he pushes his pants down just enough to free himself. His cock stands thick and proud, the head flushed in an angry red and glistening with precum, his heavy balls hanging beneath it, full and ready.

The sight alone makes your mouth water and your cunt clench with fresh need.

Javier leans over you, capturing your lips in a messy, hungry kiss. The tangy taste of your arousal lingers on his tongue as it slides against yours, drawing a whimper from your throat.

His groan reverberates through you as he drags the velvety, swollen head of his cock along the sticky seam of your cunt, spreading your wetness and teasing your sensitive clit.

He swirls himself around your nub, igniting sparks all over your overstimulated body, then slaps the hot tip against your bundle of nerves, making you cry out. “Javi,” you gasp, your hips bucking toward him, desperate for more.

He finds your entrance, the warmth of you wrapping around him as he pushes in slowly, savoring every inch. The guttural sound he makes when he sinks into you is pure sin. “Always so wet and tight for me,” he grunts, his teeth gritting as your slick walls stretch to accommodate him.

You throw your head back, a litany of curses and pleas spilling from your lips. “Oh fuck—Javi—you feel so good. I need you to make me feel this for days.”

He growls low in his throat at your words, his hips pressing flush against yours as he fills you completely, the heat of his cock nestled deep within you. The damp fabric of your shirt clings to your sweat-slicked skin, but all you can focus on is the way he feels—how his cock seems to claim every part of you.

Javi kisses you again, rough and unrelenting, before standing to his full height, his strong hands gripping you as he adjusts your position.

Your hips dangle just over the edge of the desk, his hand squeezing the curve of your ass while the other slides beneath your shirt to cup your breast. His fingers find your nipple, tugging and rolling it as he begins to move, pulling out  almost completely, his cock glistening with your arousal before he slams back into you.

The wet, obscene sound of your bodies meeting fills the room, spurring him on. Your hips rise to meet his, finding a rhythm together that has both of you moaning unabashedly, the desk creaking beneath you. 

Your cries and his grunts blend into a symphony of lust. 

“That’s right, baby,” he says through clenched teeth, his hand leaving your breast to shove your shirt up, exposing your bare skin to his hungry gaze. His pupils dilate as he watches the bounce of your tits with each thrust, his cock sawing in and out of you relentlessly. “Fucking take it. Take all of me.”

You grab his hand, guiding it back to your chest. “Don’t stop,” you plead, holding his palm over your breast as your second orgasm builds, hot and insistent. “More, Javi—give me more.”

He nearly growls, his hands roaming over you feverishly before wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you upright. Your legs wrap around his hips, your arms clutching his shoulders as he fucks up into you. The change in angle is devastating, each thrust hitting deeper, making you go absolutely fucking crazy.

Your cries of his name are music to his ears, your nails raking down his back as your slickness drenches his cock, soaking the front of his thighs. His balls slap against your ass with every thrust, heavy with the promise of his release.

You bite down on his neck, your lips sucking at the spot he’d scolded you for earlier. He doesn’t stop you, though; if anything, the sharp sting of your teeth makes his own head spin. His hips snap harder, his breaths ragged against your ear. “Shit, amor—I’m close. But you first. I need to take care of you.”

Leaning back, you brace your palms on the desk, your hips swiveling against him as the tension inside you snaps. Your walls flutter and tighten around him, milking his cock as you gush, your release coating him in a creamy sheen.

“Javi!” you scream, your entire body trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure.

His dark brown eyes are glued to where your bodies are joined, watching the creamy ring of your slick coating his cock with every stroke. It’s too much for him, and he buries himself deep with a hoarse shout of your name, his thick, hot release spilling inside you in thick, satisfying spurts, filling you to the brim.

Both of you collapse against each other, breaths ragged and mingling as your high slowly fades. His cock softens inside you, but neither of you rushes to pull away.

“It just gets better every time,” he murmurs, his lips peppering affectionate kisses along your neck and jaw before capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as he sighs contentedly. “Now,” you murmur, your voice soft and teasing, “will you come to bed?”

He pulls back just enough to brush his nose against yours, his lips curving into a smirk before stealing one last kiss. “Of course, mi amor.”

[piqtescue]

pls tell me someone else has seen this😳

[awordsmith]

omitted thoughts 𝜗𝜚 s.r

۶ৎ in which the tension between you and Spencer at work is almost too much to bare; lingering eyes and longing needs that are ignorant to the people around you, but all too easily perceived by the other.

who? spencer x bau!reader  when? s8  category: smut  content warnings: (maeve plotline does not exist, emily is still with the bau) munch spencer, tension here–tension there–tension everywhere, thorough foreplay (as in practically the entire fic), sexual acts, not too explicit, no dom/sub really mentioned–though spencer is a little more confident, proofed! reid with pleasure...  word count: 11.4k a/n: munch spencer as per requested by an anon!! this one has been in my filing cabinet for a while, so i'm glad i've finally gotten to write it out... also, new format–hey! okay i'll stop rambling... enjoy!!

There is a moment in every person’s life when they just know something sinister is about to unfold. That feeling found its way to you the exact moment the mixup with the rooms happened. It was bound to occur, it wasn’t like it was inevitable–you of all people were accustomed. Though, to be particularly truthful, it wasn’t the mixup that strangled your thoughts, no, it wasn’t as trivial as that.

What had your heart racing–your mind running–was that you were paired with Spencer. You should have said something. You were sure Emily would switch with you in a heartbeat–she and Spencer got along well enough, that it wouldn’t be a favor at all. However, even with this knowledge, you kept your mouth shut.

It was something in your gut, something in the darkest parts of your mind that swayed the moral, logical side.

It was late and the dimly lit hall only had so much life. You noted the old, peeling, pee-colored wallpaper; red flowers straying to and fro–if you tried hard enough, you could almost picture how it must have looked like in its prime.

Spencer made no effort to talk and for this you were grateful. You hadn’t had the chance to get too close to him in the few months you’ve been with the team. You were new, but not unaccustomed–you had been transferred almost six months ago with the help of thorough recommendations and pure skill–though you never pulled rank.

Hotch seemed a nice enough dad-boss, Rossi gave the impression of a comedic uncle most of the time, Morgan took his role as the older brother, Emily and JJ were great mentors and you were thrilled to be working alongside them, and you found Penelope to be a strong aunt-like figure. Spencer, though, you weren’t too sure where he fell in the categories you had enlisted just yet. 

He was a great mystery, one you were keen to unravel little by little.

“Do you have a preferred side?” Spencer asked after completing a skim with his bedbug flashlight.

“No,” you glanced around the room, two queen beds sat adjacent to each other only separated by a mediocre bedside table. A home phone sat close to the bed nearest the door and a lamp sat closest to the bed nearest the AC and window. The old, red velvet curtains were pulled back in what you thought was meant to be a kind gesture. Nevertheless, for an unknown reason, it left a bad taste in your mouth. “But, I do think we should close those,” you sighed, setting your duffle bag in the only chair in the room.

Spencer set his things on the bed near the window. You began untying the curtain closest to the bathroom. A shiver crawled up your spine as the air around you grew dry, you were seriously hoping for hot water. You meant to throw Spencer a hopeful glance, praying he’d let you take a shower first–but your eyes caught his hands instead. He was working his sleeves back, unbuttoning them as quickly as he could.

His sweater vest had been discarded and now lay in a bunched-up pile near his suitcase. You found yourself tracking his every move. He didn’t take notice of your stare until after he’d untied the curtain and met it with the one you had undid. You swiftly averted your eyes and swallowed, finding your throat had gone dry.

You cleared your throat and pushed your hair away, giving Spencer nothing but back, “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to shower first.”

Seconds ticked by and he said nothing, only when you heard a bed squeak did you turn back around. Spencer took up a space at the head of his bed, watching you with a look you were sure you’d never seen cross his face, it was almost smug, but not in the normal sense of the word–as indescribable as it was, it didn’t make you uncomfortable. You weren’t too sure what it made you feel.

“Is–is that a yes?” Your face felt hot, and you wanted to slap your hands to it, knowing it’d cool down somewhat, but you forced your hands to remain at your side.

“Yeah, sure,” he quipped, his voice the complete opposite of what his eyes conveyed.

You nodded and hurried over to your bag, leaving it at the foot of your bed when heading into the bathroom, which is where you found it upon exiting. 

Spencer had pulled pajamas out, they were neatly folded beside him. “I’d wait a little before showering,” you frowned, “sorry, I must have been in there for ages,” your mouth lilted in a slight smile as you tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and took up residence near the bedside table, “next time, just to tell me I’m taking too long, I won’t mind.”

He chuckled and you grinned, elated you finally were able to ease the unnecessary tension that had come over the two of you during your staring contest in the moments right before your shower.

“Seriously?” He sounded mirthful and when you looked up his eyes caught yours, your heart studded and you found your cheeks heating up again. He had an eyebrow raised slightly and the small smile that accompanied his expression gave off the impression he was teasing, “You’d be fine with me just walking into the bathroom while you’re in the shower?”

Your eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion and you couldn’t help the awkward smile that wouldn’t leave your mouth, “I was just joking, Spencer, but–if I am taking too long you can bang on or yell through the door.

He nodded, looking away, “I–I know, I was just messing with you.”

“Oh, please,” you snorted and rolled your eyes, trying to crush the way your thoughts raced at the way you absolutely would not give a half a damn if he did. You pressed your hand to your cheeks for a few seconds before continuing to move things out of your bag, you were thinking about how to arrange them in the large chifforobe directly across from your bed. Did Spencer hav–you gasped and dropped an article of clothing as if it had burned you.

“That was not–” you scorned yourself, that was completely inappropriate. You blinked over a few times, thinking it would make the image disappear well from your mind, but it only served to intensify the phantasmagoria.

“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer was at your side after three blinks. Your eyes widened as he reached for your hands that were opening and closing, trying to grasp any control over yourself. 

You stood abruptly, unable to be in any sort of vicinity he was near. “I’m fine–I just, I remembered, I forgot something in the lobby. It must have fallen.” You shrugged, forcing a horrid excuse for a smile onto your lips. You left the room, heading straight for the elevator. You needed the cold-biting air of December to slap some sense into you, it was almost January, thus winter should have been approaching its peak right about now.

You have never–okay, yes, you’ve had small torrent thoughts of coworkers in somewhat unprofessional manners, but none had ever been so vivid–not like the one you had just then. As the elevator opened, you tried assembling the course of thoughts that had led up to the–the Spencer one.

It only took a few minutes for you to understand thinking about it was useless. There was no coherent explanation for the thought you had, no indication of any type of build-up that might have prepared you for the fabrication. 

“His eyes,” you heard yourself murmur as the elevator let you off onto the first floor. You ignored the receptionist whom you recognized from only a few hours ago. The glass door was as easily pushed open as it was to pull; the biting air hit your face and you sighed, relief allowing you to breathe once more.

His sleeves were rolled up, your arms laced around his neck as you pulled him against your flushed, exposed skin. You were nearly naked and all but begging him. You had it. His attention. Every single piece of it.

And you were relishing it as he fucked you against that damned chifforobe.

You were startled by the discovery of Spencer’s presence as he pushed open one of the glass doors of the hotel. The carpark was desolate save for the two of you and you felt more vulnerable than you had felt in the daydream.

“Hey,” Spencer lifted his hand slightly, sticking it back in his pocket right after as if he’d cringed at himself.

“Oh, hi,” you pressed your lips into a thin smile, squeezing your eyes so as not to give away the fact that you did not want him to be there.

“You–kind of ran off, I just wanted to make sure you were alright…” his eyes traced up and down your body as if in search of something. A slight smirk grazed his lips, but it was quickly replaced with a frown that felt a little too compelled, “did you find what you were looking for?”

“Nope,” you squeaked, rocking back and forth on your heels. You squeezed your hands together behind your back like you were in prayer or giving thanks, “sorry for bringing you out here, I thought I lost something important and overreacted.”

He didn’t acknowledge your answer immediately, though he did step forward and when he took another step forward, you were inclined to take a step back because you thought the proximity might prompt you to do or say something you definitely shouldn’t be doing or saying with a coworker. He raised his hand to your face, the back of his hand rested on one of your cheeks, your eyes shut on impact, your hands separated and were not fisted.

Your eyes opened when a few low chuckles escaped Spencer’s mouth, he huffed out a few more before pulling his hand back and using it to cover his mouth…watching you. His eyes held that same smug amusement that you’re sure you’ve never seen before this night.

You met his stare, noting that with the coverage of his hand, his expression was just a bit easier to read. Your lips settled into a thin line as you concluded he was messing with you. You cast an unbothered expression over your face, though you felt anything but. “I think the water should be hot enough now.”

Disregarding the moral obligation of waiting for a response, you headed for the hotel’s entrance.

The elevator ride-up wasn’t as tense as you would have thought it to be. You could feel a calm rest over each other’s company. It was almost like a mutual understanding that did not need voicing. Back in the hotel room, Spencer headed into the bathroom without a word, again, you found yourself grateful he decided to spare you.

Even so, you did find it just a bit peculiar because Spencer had never before taken on any particular interest in you, sure you shared conversations–that was to be expected though, as you worked with him. You shared meals and nights out, though only when it was a group thing.

To be sure he drew your curiosity, but you never once thought about indulging in your secret desire because it just never seemed right. This mixup had felt like a gift from God when it was first introduced, because now–you had thought–we’ll be forced to be around each other, no doubt we’ll grow somewhat accustomed to each other’s habits. 

Perhaps the thought was a bit excessive, but it was simply the truth to you. How else were you to casually approach Dr. Spencer Reid? The youngest to be scouted in his field?

Well, you now thought grimly, scratch all that, he’s just a genius with an ego.

You approached the chifforobe hesitantly, then hastily sorted your clothing in a few drawers and on a few hangers that were already there. As you set your duffle bag at the bottom of the large space, you heard the shower squeak off and Spencer called your name.

You rolled your eyes but walked toward the bathroom, calling from your side of the closed door, “what?” 

“I,” his voice cut off and just when you thought you had waited long enough, the bathroom door swung open halfway and Spencer leaned out. 

The first thing you noticed–though unintentionally–was the steam that hit you in the face. You squinted and waved a hand before you, “Jeez, Spencer.”

His face–his hair was wet and water dripped down his head–looked a bit painted, “I left my towel in my bag, get it for me?” 

He sounded genuinely displeased at the situation, which is why you huffed and replied, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” he yelled, shutting the door again. You ignored the flip your stomach did and shivered. 

He had left his suitcase open, his things in a bit of disarray across the bed. You wavered only a moment before letting your hands fly up and down his things. His towel was quite easily discovered, though your eyes lingered on the rest of his things.

You stood and headed back toward the bathroom, knocking. Spencer appeared instantly, a smile spreading to his face. The steam had cooled somewhat, but the bathroom–you could tell–was still very much sauna-like. “Thank you.”

“You said that already.”

He raised a brow, his smile quirking, “thank you, again.”

He stole the towel and shut the door, leaving you standing there. You felt impulsive and thought there would be no way you could get through this entire trip by sharing a room with him. And yet, it was your job, and it would no doubt be questioned, you’d probably–by accident–allude to something that did not occur, and you’d both be in trouble for something so ridiculous: it shouldn’t even be a thought that crossed your mind when you looked at your coworker and yet–the bathroom door opened and Spencer walked out in only a towel–it did.

“What do you think you're doing?” You called from your bed, standing.

“It’s too moist in there, I won’t dry.” He replied as if it were a fact and not an atrocity.

“Yeah–but–” you bit your lip, eyes tracking up and down his torso, something you should most unquestionably not be doing.

He was bent over his things on the bed near the window, you turned your gaze on the floor when his eyes flickered to yours. “But what?” He paused, probably noting your expression, your pursed lips, and your unstill gaze. “I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable I can go back in. I don’t want to–I’m sorry.” You swore you could hear a lilt in his voice when he began, but it quickly turned into something more…appropriate–like he just realized the embarrassment of what he was doing. He gathered his clothes again and headed for the bathroom, returning a few minutes later in damp garments.

And though his frown said ‘I’m sorry,’ his eyes said, ‘I’m going to give you hell’. And hell it was. For the rest of the trip, you could swear Spencer did…things purposefully. Such as lifting his shirt slightly to wipe his face when he got out of the shower, turning his neck just barely so that your gaze would catch on the exposed collarbone. You swore up and down that these were being done on purpose just to make you squirm because–because–well you didn’t really know why Spencer was doing all that. 

But you knew it was for you, that was about the only thing you knew to be fact. Your nose scrunched as you recalled the looks he’d given you after every purposeful act–in such a way that it seemed like he wanted to see your reaction–as if he gets off on it.

The jet ride home was no exception to Spencer’s antics, but by this time you had decided for yourself you’d had enough of falling victim to him. You concluded that there could only be one reason Spencer was acting the way he was: because he was attracted to you. You didn’t know why–hell you couldn’t even explain why you were attracted to him in that way–but it piqued your curiosity. If he had the ability to get you to react in such distinct and significant ways, what power did you have over him? That was the dispute you set out to ascertain.

At first, it was harmless, quiet jokes told only loud enough for the two of you to hear. When the jet landed again, you ran a hand through your hair and threw your head back, as if trying to stretch. Your eyes popped open just a few minutes later to find Spencer’s eyes eating up everything from your neck to your collarbone. When he met your eyes, they weren’t amused but rather accusing. He had fallen into your trap and he had just now realised. Some genius, you found yourself regarding him with an internal snort.

“We get the day off tomorrow, right?” Emily’s tone was mirthful, full of sarcasm.

“Yeah, right.” Morgan groaned.

Hotch grimaced, “See you all tomorrow.”

“At nine?” Rossi sounded hopeful.

Your boss sighed, eyes: rolling, but a smile etching itself onto his face, “At nine.”

Small victories, a sigh escaped you under your breath, small victories.

You headed for your car, rummaging through your purse for your keys. A presence loomed over you and you froze, Spencer’s hand lightly pressed against your back as he leaned over you and tilted his head downward, “See you tomorrow —…”

Your breath caught and you tried to swallow, but your mouth was dry. Was this real? Was this not the nerdy little geek you were told you’d be working with? The guy who kept getting kidnapped? The one who could barely hold a gun four years into working in the BAU?

He walked away, down the row of cars, looking for the one he owned.

Despite yourself, your lips curled into a sinful grin. You already loved this game. 

The next morning, you caught Spencer stepping into the elevator, “hold the door!” You threw your hand out, as you rushed your footsteps.

The elevator wasn’t crowded, but there were five others you did not know, and they were all men, so naturally you moved closer to Spencer. It wasn’t on purpose, but nor was it an accident, more of an instinct. His presence gave you peace of mind as you calmed yourself down.

“Rough morning?” He asked, appearing nonchalant.

You looked up at him as he took a sip of his coffee. The elevator came to a halt and two people shuffled into the elevator after three others left. Your floor was approaching and you felt easier–especially with the extra space–but when you stepped away, a hand caught your waist.

You followed the arm all the way to Spencer’s gaze, the expression there looked to be a mix of contemplation and confusion. His hand dropped when the elevator dinged and the doors opened. He was the first to step out of the elevator, you were the fourth.

Penelope found you on her way to the roundtable, stating the others were already there. You followed her and took the only available seat in between Morgan and JJ. Spencer sat right across from you, between Emily and Rossi. When you caught his eyes, his head tilted slightly and a small smirk danced across his lips in the bright light. 

Your eyes rolled and you shifted one leg over the other under the table. 

Penelope read off the new case and while many questions were thrown out, you and Spencer kept playing the game of ‘who could make who more embarrassed’; though you both were incredibly refined at your job and were able to keep it from the insight of the others.

Hotch stood and said, “jet’s up in 15,” before rushing out of the room.

You stood as well, needing to collect all the things you might have left on your desk and turn in your report to Hotch you forgot. Rossi had followed your boss–it was probably something about Strauss, it always was whenever they acted like that. Emily, Morgan, and Penelope were having a conversation while JJ said something to Spencer and began a small exchanges. Your eyes were laser focused on her, you felt a sort of conviction fall over you. You didn’t think you were jealous, no–it was anything like that because you knew Spencer was only trying to get under your skin. Instead, you felt a sense of thrill and couldn’t help the smirk that edged its way onto your face as you floated right past them without batting an eye.

You heard his chair squeak as he leaned back, eyes trailing your figure as you exited the roundtable room. Upon approaching your desk you smacked your hands to your cheeks, helping them cool off while ignoring the chatter of the office. You searched your bag a bit until you found the documents you had been looking for.

You froze, you could feel his stare, but when you glanced around, you couldn’t find him anywhere. Your eyes narrowed as you sifted through each and every face, there–in the breakroom behind the glass… Spencer had one hand in his pocket and one holding a mug of coffee, his eyes anything but innocent. He mouthed something, but only when you noted the absense of your other team members were you able to put together his words. We’re leaving.

You met each other in the stairwell of the rooftop, you ignored the simmering in your chest as he veered over you and pushed open the door. He smelled good– god he smelled good. You forced yourself not the make it obvious you were trying to drink in and savor his scent when he let out a shuddering breath. Your eyes popped open–which is when you realized you had shut them. What is wrong with me? You allowed your eyes to track up his face, starting from his shoulders.

He was so close you could see him swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing as he stared you donw, mouth slightly ajar. His eyes were hazy and he wasn’t staring at you, but your throat. It was only for a few seconds, but it felt like hours. When he found your gaze again his jaw yet and he pulled himself together. His eyes were no longer dangerous, but they still set some kind of fear in you.

“We should go,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond until you began moving. He called your name only once, but when you looked back, a grin–small, but fucking there–destroyed his firm calmness from only moments ago, and replaced it with egotistical destruction.

There were so much said in that single expression and yet nothing at all that would have been picked up by a team of profilers, let alone a stranger–it was as if this look was designed specifically for you–designed just to become your undoing. You fucking hated Spencer Reid and his big ass ego, but you wanted him–by all hell you wanted him.

Though you’d soon find that wanting him was nothing compared to needing him.

The rest of the case came and went in a similar manner you had dreamt about the night before. You and Spencer shared lingering looks, murmured things in front of the team that, though made sense in the moment, his the underlying meaning only the two of you could pick up. You honestly found it surprising no one had caught on to what was transpiring between you and Spencer, although to be perfectly honest, you, yourself, had no idea what was transpiring between you and Spencer.

You didn’t seek each other out, but whenever you were together–alone or with others–there was this spark of craving you couldn’t quite explain out loud, and even when you thought about it, you didn’t know the right term for it other than a game. What else could it be? You couldn’t relly put togehter the events that had started it, but you knew it began sometimes on the 3-day case–maybe even that first night in the hotel. A shiver crawled up your spine, you watched Spencer out of the corner of your eye, reading. He could normally be found in the front of the jet, lying down and napping or reading.

When you were alone, all your thoughts revolved if not around the case at hand, Spencer. You didn’t want to compare it to an obsession, because what it really was was a little less of that and a little more of a desire to learn him. His body, his mind, his cravings and and fantasies. It was everything you had never felt and it scared you. There was no logical explanation to Spencer being the onset to these emotions, and yet if you’d never met Spencer, who was to say these feelings would have ever been unleashed?

It was late, but you were glad you were going to get to sleep in your bed two nights in a row. It felt like a blessing from the heavens, but then your realzied you’d have to see Spencer again tomorrow and go through the fervency all over again. Now, it felt more like irony.

Weeks of the same longing, the same wandering eyes, the same muttered whispers, the same damn game. Though you’d gotten used to your little gambit of brash actions, you weren’t tired in the least. It was–as sad as you had to admit–the most fun you’d ever had with a person.

It was fun until it became real. The team hadn’t caught on, but that was particularly due to the fact your efforts always occurred out of pure chance. You never made it obvious and he was especially good at hiding his feats, it seemed to you he was consistently able to accomplish his devious acts right under the nose of his superiors. 

You reasoned that it was perhaps because none of them would ever suspect him of any of the things he was taking up in his pastime. Not even yourself would have guessed he was like this if he hadn’t shown you, or if you hadn’t noticed the way his eyes always seemed to look the opposite of whatever his face was saying in the moment.

Despite all of this, however, you hadn’t touched–at all, no brush of the hands, no accidental shoulder bumping, nor anything on purpose; not since he’d grabbed your waist in the elevator that first day back at Quantico. The contemplation in his eyes then occurred to you at night. You tried to make out what it meant–to him at least, but never could. It was one of those thoughts that kept you up, staring at the ceiling, hoping exhaustion would so its job and prevent the misery that inveitable came without it.

Tonight, though, you didn’t know how you were going to fare against pretending to be with him. It was for the case–you kept reminding yourself as you changed into a little black dress. Everyone looked good in black, it was a color that also hid a person well enough in a club–perfect for an undercover agent.

The decision to have you go in with Spencer instead of JJ was his idea. Of course it was his. He’d proposed the switchup at the roundtable meeting that morning–and as soon as he had, you’d jolted in your seat. He’d continued talking, glancing at you now and then as if he’d actually believed the difference between you and JJ would matter.

Regardless, because you were closer in age–by only a few years, you’d wanted to remind everyone–it’d be more believable that you were together, he’d also dropped an “it’d be more comfortable that way”, which swayed Morgan and Emily, JJ kept silent during the entire tirade–though not angry, was incredibly, almost blatantly long. 

You couldn’t tell what she was thinking, but at the time you weren’t too much focussed on her, the looming fact that you’d have to touch him in ways you’d only thought about touching him to do your job? It terrified you. Not because you were afraid of acting out your fantasy–but because you weren’t sure if you could control yourself enoug to where it was just acting.

You slipped the dainty dress on and hid your gun and badge in your boots. You let your natural hair fall loose, but kept a hair tie on your wrist. Stepping out of the only bathroom in the police station you were currently residing in, holding your work clothes against your chest , you noted the imminent stares. Instinctively using your clothing to cover your thighs as you met the others in the front. Spencer kept his eyes in check–smart boy, you bit back a smirk–but the rest of the team complimented you, Hotch and Rossi having almost completely different ways of doing so, you snorted at the contrast. 

Spencer took the driver seat of a vehicle you were borrowing, the dark of a December night threatening to conceal the thing entirely. You gazed out the window, “they’re following us right?”

“Everyone will be outside and prepared.”

“I can’t believe this,” you sighed, throwing your head back.

“The fact that we’re going undercover or the fact that you have to wear that piece of cloth?” Spencer asked, though his manner was light, there was a rough undertone that heated your insides.

“I was wondering when you were going to bring it up,” you sighed carelessly, waving a hand, “I just thought you hadn’t noticed.”

“Everyone noticed.” The mask of his facade was slowly slipping away, revealing a much colder side to Spencer–one you had the pleasure of seeing more and more of the past three weeks than in all of the six months you’d been in the BAU.

“Yeah,” you smooth down the dress, “I wouldn’t normally wear this type of thing out unless I was looking to bring someone home.”

“Oh really?” You could practically hear his eyebrows raise. “You never wear things like that when we go out for drinks.”

“Precisely my point,” you quipped.

Spencer pulled into the club’s parkinglot. It took you less than five minutes to get inside. At first, you were sitting at the bar, but then, Spencer, with the earpiece attached to him, relayed the message from Hotch. Penelope had given everyone access to the inside of the club, they were watching you two through the cameras. You forced yourself not to glance at them–even the tiniest slipup could reveal you to the unsub, and you wanted them to target, not avoid you.

“They want us to dance.” Spencer sighed loud enough to where you could hear it over the noise.

“Right,” you rolled your eyes, because that’s exactly how the unsubs target their victims–didn’t we go over this in the profile? Your smile tightened as you spun and headed for the floor, crowded by so many–oh that’s not hygienic.

“Yeah, okay, maybe we skip this part,” Spencer grimaced from his palace beside you.

“You think?” You raised an unimpressed brow at the blurred figures in front of you.

He murmured something Hotch and they went back and forth a little, though you couldn’t hear exactly what was said, Spencer’s face of triumph was all you needed to breathe a sigh of relief.

You found yourselves hiding in the corner at the back, there weren’t many people crowding around you which made you perfect for the unsubs, though the appearance of them at this club tonight was purely based on instinct, gut feelings, and careful, calculated guessing, there was still a chance they wouldn’t show themselves.

You didn’t mean for it to happen like this, you were doing everything in your power to stay composed and in control, but some part of you–the defiant, terrible side of you–wanted so badly to see his reaction when you touched him.

His frame leaned over you, holding you against the probably dirty wall, the sensual music that played a heavy beat around you felt like an instigator. Sweat slipped down his neck and it drew your attention, all of a sudden Spencer tensed, then he relaxed slightly but it felt forced, “They have eyes on the unsubs.”

“How many,” You compelled your eyes to stay on his though they wanted to scour the area around you and find just exactly who he was talking about–which would be idiotic, of course.

“That’s right,” he swallowed–ignoring your question, your eyes caught his throat bobbing–he noticed. “Keep your eyes on me,” you nodded at his words, feeling your throat drying as you neglected the need to trace his collarbone with both your fingers and gaze.

His hair was a mess of damp curls and his face was barely visible in the bright, flashing lights, but you had a job to do–and yet here you were, gripping the collar of his shirt, brushing back the hair that fell in his face as he looked at you with those eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, “but if you aren’t up for this just tell me now.” His voice lilted at a challenge, but you heard the mumble ordered in the earpiece–by hell he could yank you hair almost completely out and you wouldn’t give a damn.

You held his regard with one of your own, eyes narrowed, “Just do it.”

And he did. But he also didn’t. His smirk narrowed ere leaning in. He gripped your face with an elephants strength and a swan’s gracefulness. You closed your eyes, waiting for his lips, but he swerved at the last moment and kissed the skin below your ear. He trailed a few kisses down your neck but stayed close to your hearing range, evidently, he was teasing–you wanted to scoff but couldn’t find it in you to make him stop.

“How’s this?” He murmured.

“You’re an ass,” you replied huffed, trying to mask a groan.

He grinned against your neck, “I know.”

The club case was the reason you and Spencer now ensured you were always together. From then on, you seemed to not want to be anywhere else the other wasn’t–or rather, you felt more comfortable with each other and couldn’t bring yourselves to leave the other alone.

Not that either of you minded and you still did your jobs perfectly fine–though there was more intensity when the other was in any sort of danger, it only propelled the one that wasn’t to learn how to do their job quicker. It was both a fast track to understanding how to adapt to constant situations that warped your idea of what was really going on. When he got something wrong–which was rare but not absolute. After about a month of this, you were starting to question what you were to him–what he was to you.

Though you still weren’t sure how to properly ask that question. You hadn’t slept together, though you thought about it all the time you weren’t at work…and perhaps sometimes when you were… Those thoughts slipped through on occasion–but it wasn't anything that hadn’t been transpiring before the club case.

It was as if the ‘who can make the other person more embarrassed’ game had been turned into the ‘what can I do to make you squirm this time’ game. Like the rules of the game had somehow intensified and touching was now allowed and despite all of the things that ensued upon the new rule instatement, you still had not taken it further than work.

It kept you up most nights, and you wondered when this cycle of what are we would end–if it would take one of you getting into a relationship–though you were sure Spencer didn’t have to worry about you in that department–and although you hated it, the fact was that Spencer was the only one you could think about. It was as if the man had ruined sex for you altogether. 

You fucking hated Spencer Reid–and that fucking chifforobe. 

Your heart dropped in your chest. You refused to give Spencer the satisfaction of looking over at him–though he seemed just as surprised as you. At this point anything could happen–and by anything you mean anything. Because anything would be better than having to share a room with him again. You were so tired you could barely recall what that even meant.

But then again, a small part of you whispered, this could be your chance. My chance? You scoffed, my chance at what? Making a fool of myself? Because confronting him means admitting I can’t stop–thinking about him. And that, to you, would feel like admitting defeat. It’d feel like losing the game–oh and you really felt like you were winning! Winning at what again? God, you needed sleep.

“Are you planning on getting in the shower first?,” he asked as soon as you were behind the door, away from prying ears and nosy coworkers.

You let out a heavy sigh and held your arms up to stretch, yawning–“honestly, I might just head to bed, it’s late and I could really use the sleep.”

“Have you not been able to sleep at night?” He set his things on the bed near the window as you claimed the one near the door.

“You have no idea,” you murmured, although a bit more to yourself than to him.

“Do you know why?” He seemed genuinely curious–but as you faced him, all you could think was, if only you knew.

“Nope,” you popped the ‘p’ and grimaced as you laid your back against the bed, arms spread like a starfish, your duffle bag discarded near your feet at the end of the bed.

You felt Spencer watching you, but for the first time in a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You quite literally had been running on nothing but coffee for the past day and a half–and you were in desperate need of some sleep–especially if you wanted to be at your best tomorrow.

“Here,” you hadn't heard Spencer approach you–you blamed his Hotch training. You cracked open an eye as he pushed you on your side. Your back burned at where he’d touched you, but it was quickly overshadowed when you heard him yank the bedspread down as hard as he could. “Come, on,” he huffed, pulling your shoes off and setting them beside your bag.

You forced yourself under the cover and snuggled, “the light?” you grumbled.

“First, your blazer,” he held out a hand. You whined but made quick work of ridding yourself of the fabric. “You sure you don’t want to change into something more comfortable–”

“Spencer.” You warned.

“Yeah, I hear you,” he reached for the lamp atop the bedside table–smaller than the one from the last hotel room you’d shared–the chifforobe near the window was smaller as well. He hummed as the thoughts faded in and passed through his mind.

Spencer found himself forgetting everything else as he sat in the bed opposite yours and leaned his arms on his thighs, watching you. A few minutes passed, but only when a knock sounded on the door did he realize he maybe shouldn’t be watching his coworker like a creep. Though, you weren’t really a coworker, were you?

Well–he meant you were–but you were also more than that, though he didn’t exactly know if your relationship had a name, he knew that it entailed things normal coworkers did not have. He knew what he wanted–but to outright say it felt like disrupting the sort of balance you’d gotten accustomed to–as if going out and actually attempting to take what he wanted would break the trance that had set over the two of you–it’d be throwing all the rule’s to the game away, and then what did either of you have left? Rules were important, if not necessary. He couldn’t chance it–not yet at least.

“Hey, oh,” Morgan tried looking around the room.

Spencer felt his eyes roll as he stepped into the hall and shut the door slightly behind him, careful not to shut it completely as he didn’t have the key card and he didn’t want to wake you up. “Yes?”

Morgan nodded behind him, “she’s asleep?”

“She’s really tired,” Spencer affirmed.

“Right,” his eyes fell back on Spencer, and for a second, he thought Morgan might be analyzing his form.

“Was there something you needed?” Spencer pressed, eager to head back into the room, unpack his suitcase, and head to bed himself.

“Ah, no, we were just going to order food–but I guess you don’t want anything either?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for asking.”

“Uh-huh,” Morgan once again glanced behind Spencer, whose irritation at the suspicion was steadily increasing.

“She’d not dead,” Spencer stated, though he meant it as a joke it came out rather harsh.

“Alright, pretty boy, I didn’t say she was.” Morgan chuckled, patting Spencer on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow.”

Spencer made quick work of unloading his things, he thought about getting in the shower but feared it’d wake you. Instead, he debated on whether or not he should leave your things in you bag or do you a favor and put them away. He didn’t want you to consider him a snoop, especially with how you’d been looking at each other the past few weeks–and that undercover case.

His heartbeat picked up, and he couldn't stop thinking about it–it was the thing he fell asleep to at night; it was gradually eating away at him, and he couldn’t deny the way his body tensed whenever he recalled the image of you under the flashing array of lights–how you’d looked so…submissive.

He hastily shoved that thought to the furthest corner he could find in his mind and headed for your bag. He didn’t want to be brash with the way he put your clothing away, but he also didn’t you to wake up while he was holding your underwear–then he’d truly feel like a creep. 

He was halfway done when you mumbled something; he froze and he could feel the thump of his heart in his chest. Though it was still winter, he’d begun to sweat and had set his glasses aside because they kept sliding off the bridge of his nose. He’d been wearing them more often than not for the past few months as he’d found them to be a particular fascination of yours. It was now that he squinted and moved his hand around for them.

His footsteps carried him quietly across the room, near your bedside. “—?” He whispered and when you failed to respond, lifted a tentative hand to your cheek–though just before the pads of his fingertips met your skin, you mumbled something again–and this time, he could hear it. He fisted his hand and used the bedside table to hold himself up, and although he couldn’t see them, he knew his hands were turning white with how hard he was squeezing them.

Again. He wanted to hear it again–his prayers were answered as you shifted slightly, tugging the cover up to your neck. Skimming down your person, he bit his fist and tried to calm himself down. Again. He needed to sit down, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He felt it twitch–he needed to walk away right now. And he did, but instead of picking up where he’d left off with your clothing, he headed for the bathroom, not bothering to turn the light on as he shut himself in complete darkness.

Images of you, your stolen glances, and desperate touches filled his mind. He was particularly focused on the tired way you slurred his name in your sleep. He wondered what kind of dreams you were having, what you were picturing as you said his name like that. He muffled his groans as he stroked himself, using his fist to bite back anything that might escape the small confines of the washroom. His thoughts of you were possibly the only thing he allowed himself to go to extensive lengths with. His mouth watered at the mere concept of you and your twisting legs. He’d done this a considerable amount of times before–but this was the first time you were so close– a hairsbreadth away.

It felt both right and wrong, and yet the lines began fading into oblivion as he came closer to climax.

He whimpered into his hand just as he came. It was odd, he didn’t too much feel like a creep after he cleaned himself up, but upon washing his hands profusely and returning to put your garments away, he was once more–afraid of what you’d think if you caught him messing with your things.

Although a part of him felt it might have been because he wanted you to find him in that state, he tried rationalizing–but the more he thought about it–even as he now rested his head against a pillow–the more he found that ‘might’ to be absolute truth. 

You woke up to the smell of coffee. You stretched, yawned, and pried your eyes open. Rolling onto your side, you found Spencer devouring a book, his glasses at the tip of his nose. You smiled, thinking you were dreaming–but then his eyes shifted over to yours and your smile fell, you quickly understood this Spencer was real–oh no–your cheeks burned from last night's delusions. “Good morning,” he smiled. You groaned and sat up, your hands finding your cheeks, “what time is it?”

“It’s around six, you have,” he checked his watch, “an hour and thirty minutes, Hotch wants us ready before eight.”

You huffed and threw yourself back against the pillows. New Years had come and gone and you hadn't even celebrated...though, your mind with all the ways you could make up for it–you shook the thoughts away, now was not the time.

Five minutes later you were searching for your clothing, but your bag was practically empty, “did you move my things?”

Spencer choked on his coffee, “ah–yeah,” he motioned toward the chifforobe. You glared at it as he said, “It’s small, so some of our things are mixed, but you should be able to find whatever you’re looking for easily.”

“Thank you” You appreciated his simple act of affection, it made your chest ache.

“Yeah, sure.” Despite going back to reading his book, Spencer snuck small glimpses of you from the corners of his eyes.

As the hot water ran down your back, you found yourself thinking of Spencer, just a few feet away, you were practically naked and he could walk in at any moment, you felt an ache between your thighs, but you shrugged it off–or at least you tried to.

You hadn’t had sex since that incident with Spencer a few weeks ago. You tried–by all God did you try–but you just couldn’t It led to a few arguments with the guys you’d taken home–and your credit, you did feel just a little bad. All the same, you simply couldn’t seem to get him out of your mind. It was like he was mocking or watching you every time you attempted it–he was that tiny, little voice in the back of your head feigning disappointment, saying you wouldn’t purge the sexual frustration unless it were him. Though you were a saint at keeping it hidden, your agitation only built.

The day was more or less: “Spencer, what do you see?” from Hotch and “—, if you were the unsub…” from Morgan. Penelope was on call a few times and you were so close, but it had grown late and you needed sufficient unwinding. After a group dinner in the hotel lobby that primarily consisted of takeout and the small meal provided by the hotel staff, you headed up to your room. Spencer stayed to grab one last cup of coffee before the staff closed the mailroom for good. Thus, with your alone time, you decided to wash off all the griminess of the day.

You were drying yourself with a towel when you heard him enter, “I’m almost done,” you shouted, “I think there’s still some hot water left.”

His lack of response piqued your curiosity. You threw your clothing on once you were mostly just damp and yanked the door open. You were pulling your hair back into a ponytail when he looked up. He’d just set his cup of coffee on the table near the lamp, which now that you noticed, was the only light that lit up the room, he had turned the big llight off.

“You okay?” You rubbed your face, dropping your hands to your side right after, “did you hear me?”

“No, sorry,” he frowned, “I wasn’t paying attention.” He stood.

“Oh, I just said–if you wanted to get in, there’s still hot water left.” You thrust a your thumb behind you.

“Ah, thanks.” You nodded and pursed your lips. “So, what book were you reading this morning?” You took up the spot Spencer had just abandoned.

He turned and watched you–filling the area. He caught the way your legs pressed together as you crossed them to sit more comfortably against the pillows, attention to the book he’d been reading that morning.

“I’m going to get in the shower,” he cursed himself as he felt desire pool in his throat. He wondered what it’d be like to kiss you, to touch you–to taste you. His mouth watered at the prospect and he felt himself harden just like the night before. His shower was quick as the water had gotten cold and had quickly ruined his mood.

“You lied to be,” he glared at you from the threshold of the bathroom door.

You bit your lip, but still, a smile graced your mouth, “sorry, I thought it would last.” He shook his wet hair around around, mimicking the actions a puppy would.

“What?” His eyes widened slightly and his eyebrows raised, “what did you call me?”

A hand flew to your mouth, your own surprise showing, “I–” of bloody course, you said it out loud.

He stepped forward, dropping his towel on the bed, “say it again.” It was odd, the way he said it–like it was both a question and a demand–or rather, a demand he questioned your willingness to obey.

“…puppy?” you tried laughing it off, “Sorry, it just came out–I didn’t mean t–”

“Didn’t you, though?” Came a mirthful reply. Spencer stepped forward, towering over you as he leaned down, bringing his face near yours, one hand on the bed near your hips, the other on the bedside table. “Is that what you’ve thought of me this entire time?”

And what the hell were you supposed to say to that? Game on is what Spencer saw in your eyes as you set the book on the table, your hand purposely roaming over his as you pulled it back. “No,” you stated, a nonchalant expression crossing your features as your eyes turned away from his, the move calculated, “only sometimes.”

Spencer didn’t think the table would be able to withstand him much longer, but it did as he thought of ways he might proceed. Eventually, he let go and instead wrapped his firm fingers around your nape, forcing your attention to his. “And do you think that now?”

He watched a Chesire grin take its place upon your mouth. “If I said yes, would that anger you, Dr. Reid?” The mocking was unnecessary, but it sure as hell was a lot more fun than if you simply addressed him as ‘Spencer’ or ‘Reid’.

The parental-like tone you took up furthered his new-growing erection. His hair still dripped with water and as a water droplet streaked down his face, you lifted your hand to wipe it with your thumb. His hand let your your neck go to snatch your wrist–God you wanted him so badly. This witty banter–you were already starting to find–just wasn’t enough anymore.

Your eyes reapproached his, they seemed to meet with the same level of desire, completely forgetting that there was a serial killer on the loose, your eyes dipped to his lips only once before you leaned forward–but while you did he pushed you back, your back hitting the bedframe and just as you caught your breath, you found yourself being deprived of air once more.

Spencer was hungry, he tasted like coffee and something minty. Your hands tangled through his hair and while he suffocated you in the only way you’d ever want to be suffocated, you tugged. It barely stopped him the first time, but the second and third had his eyes rolling.

When they found you again, noting the playful glint in your eyes, he vowed he would go as far as you’d let him tonight–and perhaps the night after that, he hadn’t quite thought it through, and at this time, he neither had the strength nor the want to do so. 

He began tugging at your t-shirt, but you grabbed his hand, “ah-ah,” you clicked your tongue, “you have to earn that.” 

He paused and took a step back, watching you now, your knees digging into the softness of the mattress; your mouth darkened with the visceral kisses he’d forced on you. Your eyes sparked with something he knew he’d never be able to find in any other woman. His lips quirked, his eyes were hooded, and his voice thick when he asked, “What do I have to do?”

The need in his voice was enough to shed you of your clothing right then and there, but it seemed you had a lot more self-control than he did in the moment. You tugged your hair out of the loosened, droopy ponytail it had fallen into and brushed it back, smoothing it out to appear just how you wanted it to. You felt his eyes on you, patient, but every second he was, was a second his lust grew, and the moment you gave him the okay–well, he honestly couldn’t say just what he’d be capable of.

“You seem agitated, Spencer,” you pouted, shifting so that your legs fell in front of you over the edge of the bed. His eyes tracked your movements as he used your bed’s bedpost to steady himself, “just how many times have you pictured me like this?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” came his frivolity response. To be frank, he knew the exact answer to your question, but the first thing that flew into his head and out of his mouth was–to be sure–an edging reply. He watched how you interpreted it.

In a moment of unconsciousness, you glanced at the chifforobe across from you. Spencer caught that shit.

“Oh?” He raised a brow, finding the confidence to step forward.

“Don’t get any ideas, Reid.” You warned, but he could see the arguments going on between your eyes.

“No, see: I think it’s your idea.” He corrected, a deep, rumble of a laugh fell from his throat, “So, what exactly did you picture me doing with this thing.” He snorted and walked over to it, running a hand along the cupboard. You bit your lit, your dreams coming into clear view as if they were a film playing in front of you.

“Spencer,” you stood both embarrassed and a little annoyed. 

You marched over to it at placed a hand on his shoulder–but then you were against the doors of the small chifforobe and Spencer was whispering just above your ear, “Was this it? Your sick fantasies of me? Did they include me having you against a wardrobe?”

Your breath caught and you wanted to hide your face because there was no doubt he’d be able to see the truth without you having to voice any sort of answer–but the jerk had his hand cupped around your jaw, and his grip was unimaginably strong for–well, him.

He smiled and tilted his head–and God only knew what that did to your resolve. Your knees weakened and you found yourself whimpering. “So, I guess that’s a yes.” You found just enough strength to narrow your eyes and look somewhat pissed. He nodded, “the shirt,” he tugged at the bottom.

You bit back a repost as he dropped his hands and stepped away, though he kept his distance close enough to where you felt his presence even after you’d lifted your shirt and he was out of sight. His eyes didn’t leave yours, you admired his stoicism; you’d already proved you weren’t any match when your eyes traced every line anytime you saw a sliver of his stomach, hips, neck, or forearms–okay maybe you had a bit of an obsession, but could it honestly be considered that when the look he was giving you screamed ‘wolf in sheep's clothing’? 

“What other things have you thought up in that horny brain of yours, I wonder,” he spoke almost to himself, but his ever-focused gaze told you he was quite literally asking.

“That’s not how the game works,” a cheeky grin reformed your scowl.

“Right,” he paused, turning his eyes to the ceiling for effect, “remind me?”

Your eyes roved from one eye to the other, and back again, searching for any hint of hesitation, “this foreplay is kind of starting to get old.”

“Yes, I can agree–” you cut him off midsentence with a ravenous kiss. You could swear you bit him more than once, but he wasn’t complaining. Your head lulled to the side as he trailed kisses up and down your neck, finding a spot he particularly liked just below your ear.

Your hands twisted in his hair, yanking, tugging, and pulling–whatever got the most responses from him, you were doing. You threw his shirt to the side and pushed him toward the bed. He braced himself using his arms, though they were swiftly in motion again, wrapping around your waist as you stepped between his legs. “What do you want?” You asked, attempting to catch your breath.

He laughed, but when he realized you were serious he almost snorted, “What do I–what do I want?”

“It’s a simple question,” you shrugged, “what do you want from me?”

Now–now his eyes dipped, “I want a lot of things.”

You bit back another grin. Somehow in the few minutes, you’d been running around the room talking about how horny you both were, you’d ended up on the bed, your head behind a pillow. Spencer was between your legs, mouth-watering. He’s waited so long, he honestly didn’t think this foretold moment would ever actually occur, but God, was he glad he’d been wrong. Heavy, sinful eyes skimmed your lower body as he fumbled with the top of your shorts. His hands were warm despite the dreary weather outside, likely due to his recent shower. They pressed into your thighs as he brought his face just above your lower stomach, his name fell from your mouth in a whine, leading him to push aside the cover of your shorts. He drug a few fingers over your center.

Your moans sliced through the rough tension that had fallen over the hotel room. “What?” His snort was low and sloppy, “Oh, is–,” one of his fingers gently slid over you and your eyes shut, “–is this what you want?” His eyes traced the arch of your neck that was most exposed, the one lined with the red marks he’d left. The twitching beneath his sweatpants pulled a groan from his lips.

He swirled his finger around, feeling your wetness was more than inviting. “Spencer,” you cried, eyes flying open at the loss of contact. 

“Be still,” he said, his voice wavering as he tugged everything off and discarded them on the floor. You watched him watch you–it wasn’t until you noted the way his eyes narrowed that you understood he was outlining your form–so that he could vividly paint it in his mind for a later purpose.

“I asked first,” you frowned up at him.

“You’re right,” he sighed, “here: let me show you what I want.”

Your breath caught as he lowered himself, his face coming right up to you, and with the way he was drooling at the sight, you could tell he’d been thinking about this for a while–it made you wonder if his desire had begun a lot sooner than yours had.

His mouth was warm, his tongue stroked up and down as far as they could go, and even when you thought he’d reached that point, he proved you wrong. Your hands knotted in his hair as you guided his head. His mouth was warm as he lapped up everything. You tried keeping your moan to a minimum, but when he stopped, your eyes popped open–had you done something wrong? But no, he was looking up at you with those desperate, puppy-like eyes, “please,” his whisper was grating, “I want to hear you.”

You swallowed, the ache building in you, “if that’s what you want,” you nodded.

And a few moments later, you were calling out his name in a way you’d never called anyone name. This was so new, you’d never had a guy worship you like this and you couldn’t fathom the fact that Spencer wanted to do it for your pleasure as well as his own.

You tried to hold it in, but your body had been desolate of attention for so long that you just couldn’t anymore. You could hear him slurp, and God did it do something to your brain chemistry– He considered you with clouded eyes. “Are you okay?” He frowned, pushing his body over yours.

Without giving him time to settle, you yanked his jaw toward your face with firm hands, he tasted like you and smelled of his shampoo–and yet, there was still the unknown Spencer scent that seemed only his skin could produce. You lined his jaw with kisses, your heart pounding in your chest with every new groan that escaped him.

My turn,” you huffed, definitely the cause of the lopsided grin that spread across his mouth. Though his hair was a mousy brown, in the dim yellow lamplight, it was as dark as the wood that made up the vintage furniture. It looked windswept or like he had just woken up–and perhaps he had. It was no longer a deniable fact that he’d never feel this good with anyone else, and he didn’t know how long this relationship with you would last, so he would milk everything he could out of it–and in exchange, surrender everything he had of himself.

It was only a few seconds later that you had him on his back, hands roving up and down his chest. You rubbed yourself against him, eliciting sweet sounds from his throat and friction from where you were just barely connected. You made sure to hold his gaze as you slid onto him. His jaw tightened and you could feel relief leave him as his chest fell. You tightened around him, trying to get used to him, you had to pause for a second–you couldn’t believe you were doing this–and in a moment of incompetence, you laughed.

“Sorry,” you lowered your chest onto his and began chuckling into his neck, “it’s just–what would the other think if they knew?”

Spencer pushed your shoulder away and held you above him, “I guess it’s a good thing they don’t, right?”

You nodded, but a small part of you wondered about what that meant for the after. Spencer groaned as you sat back up, you started slowly, hissing as you let him fill you. Spencer gave out his fair share of whimpers, but you wanted more, you wanted to make him cry.

You gripped his hair with one hand and the pillow beside him with another, you rolled your hips and wiggled every time you sat back down. Squeezing your thighs seemed to make him shudder the most, and when you added sucking to the mix, you knew you had him. 

“There it is,” your grin was devilish as you swiped at his cheek. He opened his eyes just in time to see you licking his tears off your thumb.

“I might ask what we are now,” you huffed a laugh as Spencer shut the bathroom door. He had been a complete gentleman about everything, cleaning you, massaging your shoulders. You’d never had such an experience, you’d never thought there could be more to having sex if you only had the right partner; now that you did, there was…but you were unsure about yourself.

You found your mind questioning all you knew about Spencer and what this all meant to you. You had asked him what he wanted from you, but did you even know what you wanted from him? Before, the question might have thrown you off–though Spencer had asked it, you weren’t taking him all too seriously. Now that you had more time to contemplate your roving thoughts, you knew the answer as if it had been written in your DNA.

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed as he sat beside you, you were facing the window and the chifforobe.

“Well, what else would we be?” He paused, almost hesitatingly. You jerked your head toward his, eyes searching, and as the seconds of silence ticked by, he seemed to fade more and more into himself. When he turned his head and averted his eyes, saying, “I mean–if that’s not what you want–” you cut him off.

“No, I just–” you stopped yourself, unsure of how to explain the complications running through your mind, “I’m just not exactly sure what that means…”

A heavy sigh escaped his lips. You opened your mouth to clarify–probably more than necessary–but your words caught in your throat as Spencer stood and lowered to his knees in front of you. He was between your thighs, but there was nothing sexual about it–if anything it felt like the complete opposite kind of intimacy you had grown accustomed to with him.

His hands reached for yours, pulling them into your lap. He looked up at you with possibly the one look Spencer Reid had never given anyone. His eyes couldn’t decide which one of yours to focus on for the longest time, but when he did, his tone was guttural and almost choking, trusting. 

“The more time I spend with you, the more I feel I’ve always known you. These past few weeks–they weren’t the beginning for me.” Your mouth suddenly went dry, though you still tried to swallow. “I–I honestly don’t know when it started, but the more I felt drawn to you, the more I forced myself away. It–I don’t–I didn’t think I deserved to feel that way–I guess…”

You waited a few moments to ensure he was finished, your mind ran to look for the best possible response–but given the one-in-a-million situation you were in, your mind went blank. Instead, you rambled the first words that rolled into your mind just as you whispered the last, “I want you in every way, Spencer. It’s like–like you’ve bewitched me–”

“...body and soul,” he finished, “it’s…Jane Austen–sorry.” He cringed.

You threw your head back and laughed, then huffed, wiping a few tears from your eyes, “No, oh, no don’t worry. See this is why I love you,” Your heart came to an abrupt halt, and you felt as if you were dead, “no–I mean, I don’t–I mean, I–well, I do, but I mean–”

“It’s okay,” you followed his face as he stood and leaned down, his palm brushing across your face as he tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and leaned forward, “It’s okay, know what you meant,” the end of his sentence was muffled by another kiss.

“So, do you think they’ve caught on yet?” JJ asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Uhh, I’d say probably not.” Emily nodded.

“Would you like the share with the class?” Morgan raised a brow.

“Oh, I know this one,” Penelope hand shot up, her jewelry clinking against one another, “because — and Reid still think we don’t know.”

“I mean how could we not, though?” JJ huffed a laugh, setting her mug on the table in front of her.

“Know what?” Rossi smacked his lips, startling the group of four.

“Know…the complexities of…nail polish?” Penelope tried and failed to save the group.

All four members winced as Hotch appeared seemingly out of thin air and stated, “they think we don’t know about Spencer and —.” “What?” Rossi shook his head, following Hotch, “how could we not know? They’re so obvious.”

a/n: sorry for the wait, but i do proofread my fics because i just can't stand things not being as good as they could be–i'm a bit of a perfectionist lol irregardless, happy late new year !!

@darkmatilda @theylovemelody

[silverhairsimp]

who's gonna take care of you? k. bakugou

I am sicker than sick and couldn't sleep last night so here's some bakugou fluff.

Pairing & CW: Bakugou x f!reader. Reader and Bakugou have two kids. Brief mentions of pregnancy from Mitsuki (Reader is not actually pregnant). pure, sickly sweet fluff.

Katsuki looks at the clock hanging above the kitchen sink, 7:24am. Usually you’d have been up for at least a half hour by now, maybe more. The kids have to be to school at 8:30, it’s only a 12 minute drive, but they like to get there early and play with their friends before their day of learning starts. He looks at the two of them sitting at the counter, digging into their fresh pancakes and waffles with a variety of fruits. They were similar in a lot of ways, but your daughter refuses to eat pancakes, the same goes with your son and waffles. And what kind of number one dad would The Bakugou Katsuki be if he didn’t make his brats happy?

“You two stay here and finish eating— gonna go check on your ma’,” he calls out to them before heading down the hall, only to stop with a hand on the doorframe to look back at them. “And no eatin’ spoonfuls’a syrup this time! That shi— crap’ll give you diabetes.” 

The two of them laugh at their dads empty threat, knowing they’ll at least sneak one or two spoonfuls before he gets back. 

He has an office day today, full of paperwork and unfished reports that need to be submitted by the end of the week. He’s been working overtime, which means you have too. Working overtime at your own job and taking care of the kids when he gets home too late or leaves too early for work. 

“Baby—“ he calls out when he pushes open your bedroom door. Your cheeks are flushed red, your brows are knit together, you’ve got a mound of blankets on you, yet your feet are sticking out from the bottom. “Hey, y’doing okay?” He asks as he gets closer, sitting next to your sleeping form on the bed when he reaches a hand out to cup your cheek, followed by placing the back of his hand to your forehead. “Jesus babe, you’re burnin’ up. Might be running hotter than I normally do…” 

His words are laced with concern as he heads to your shared bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it with as cold of water he can get before wringing it out. For good measure, he grabs the thermometer and to confirm his suspicions.

“Open up for me, baby.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek and your eyes finally open when you bring your hand up to touch the cold cloth on your forehead. “‘Ts cold…” you mumble and he slips the thermometer underneath your tongue. “Yeah and you’re hot—“ he waits for the thermometer to finish rereading before he adds: “101.9 to be exact.” 

You try to sit up, “I’m fine…”but the pressure in your head is too much so you flop back down into the pillows. “I don’t know what year you think I was born, but I know what fine is. And you, are not fine.” 

“But the kids— they have school, you have work— I have things to do around the house.” You try to protest in between a fit of coughs, but he plants an arm against the bed, palm down at your side caging you in. “you know the hag— my mom,” he corrects when you give him the glare, “she loves taking them to school. Eijiro too. I could call either one and they’d drop ‘em off. And with work, that’s one of the perks’a bein’ your own boss.” 

He leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, trying to hide the wince at how warm your skin is. Gods you must feel like shit. “Lemme call my mom—“ he steps out of the room and gently closes the door, calling in a favor to the woman who always saves his ass. 

‘Yeah, y/n sick, real sick. Need someone to drop off the beats at school. What? Morning sickness? No she’s not pregnant again. She’s sick sick. Got’a fever of almost 102. Yeah, they ate. Yes, lunches packed. Ugh— what kinda father do you think I— mmgh. Thanks ma. They’ll be ready for ya.’

He comes back in the room slight shake to his head as he thinks back to the conversation he just had with his mom. Your youngest is 6 and she’s been itching for another grand baby, but that’s too bad. She’s got two good ones to love on anyway. “Moms comin’ to pick em up in 15.” 

The two of you can hear the padding of feet running down the hall and your two replicas appear in the door frame. 

“Mommy what’s wrong? Did you catch a bug?” Your 8 year old son asks you as he pushes his hips to the bed. He may have his fathers eyes but he’s got your color hair and the sweetest personality to match. 

“Ew! Why would mommy catch a bug!! That’s so yucky!” Your daughter chimes. She’s got that ash blonde hair to match her fathers and definitely gets his personality. 

“Yeah, squirt, mama’s not feeling great so your Gramma Mitsuki is gonna take you to school.”

“Katsuki— you really shouldn’t have asked your mom to come all the way here.” 

“You say all the way here like she doesn’t live 8 minutes down the road.” He smirks at you, knowing damn well she wasn’t gonna miss the opportunity to be involved in your kids’ lives. 

“Daddy, why can’t we stay and take care of mommy like she takes care of us when we’re sick?” Your boy asks with those gorgeous ruby red eyes peering down at you. “You guys have to stay in school and get good grades. You wanna have your own agency and be the number one hero like your daddy don’t you?” You smile at the two of them and lift your hand off the bed to cup their cheeks one at a time. 

Your daughter flexes her little muscles and grits her teeth. “Yeah mommy! We’ll get strong so we can take good care of you some day!” 

Each of your kiddos leans in to place a kiss to your cheek, it’s no use trying to stop them either. They’re both stubborn, just like you and Katsuki. 

“Go get cleaned up before Gramma gets here— and don’t think I can’t smell the syrup on those sticky fingers, you little shits!” 

It’s no use trying to protest the language when you hear the fit of laughter and screams as they run back down the hall. 

Katsuki gets up to make sure they’re heading out to wash up and grab their school bags while he makes another call to the agency, letting Mina know he won’t be in. 

You’ve nearly fallen back asleep by the time he comes back with a hot bowl of homemade soup, a freshly squeezed cup of orange juice, a ginger shot and two pieces of toast. “They’re right ya know. You’re like super woman to them— and even she needs help sometimes.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and turns on the tv for some back ground noise before he grabs his computer and sits next to you in bed. 

“Katsuki. You’re gonna get sick if you stay here—“ you try to protest and he just smiles and puts the cold rag on your forehead. “Yeah… and when super man needs help; I know you’ll be there too..” He lands a fat one right on your lips and smiles. The two of you share everything together. Even the cooties…

[ryukatters]

Thinking about Satoru not letting you leave through the door without kissing him, insisting that you pay the “boyfriend tax.”

You’re late.

Like really, really late.

You’ve decided to pin the blame on your sweet (but annoying) boyfriend who thought it’d be a great idea to turn off all of your morning alarms while you were fast asleep. When you jolted awake, asking what time it was, you were shut down by a heavy arm pinned across your chest, accompanied by a pout that begged you for ‘5 more minutes’ of cuddles. Three times.

Unlike him, you can’t afford to be late— lest you want to be fired. You ignore any and all bargains to quit your job, busying yourself by getting ready for the day as quickly as possible.

You’re practically throwing yourself at your front door before you’re being dragged back by an arm around your waist. You let out a yelp as you’re spun around to face the perpetrator. Satoru merely laughs as you click your teeth in annoyance.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He asks, the grip on your waist tightening as you try to wriggle out of his grasp conspicuously.

“Don’t think so,” you answer hurriedly, trying your best to pry your boyfriend’s hands off of you. “I gotta go, ‘Toru. ‘m already late.”

“Ah-ah,” he tuts, the hands that were innocently on your waist now resting on your ass. “Need to pay your taxes before you leave.” He punctuates his sentence with a rather harsh (albeit playful) slap to your ass.

You roll your eyes, reaching up on your tippy toes, waiting for Satoru to close the distance between you. He takes a different approach all together and lifts you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

It’s only then that Satoru brings his lips to meet yours— a medley of sweet kisses followed by more sensual ones that should be considered way too inappropriate to be sharing first thing in the morning.

You pull away first, tapping his shoulder to signal him to do the same. He chases your lips subconsciously as you move back, breaths intermingling.

“Have I paid back all my dues yet?” You ask with a teasing smile.

Satoru returns the smile tenfold. “Nah,” he laughs, setting you back down before he’s helping you put your shoes on. “Don’t think you’ll ever be out of debt, honestly. But it’ll do, for now.”

He charges you one last ‘boyfriend tax’ before letting you walk out the door.

[a-ikuoliver]

god is a bit of a freak, why's he watching me getting railed on the couch, staying pure for a wedding, he's got fucked up priorities — aka an ancient, obsolete god of fertility hears your prayer

pairing: fertility god!katsuki bakugou x fem!reader w/c: 2.8k warning/s: voyeurism, oral (f!receiving), references to sex rituals and safe sex lmao, i think that's everything, mostly lead up notes: sorry i wrote this fucked up from a cold lmao i hope u all enjoy either way! inspo/acknowledgements: god is a freak by peach prcty @kweenkatsuki-fics @aquadenks @peachsukii @rabbbitseason for ur interest teehee

crossposted to ao3 • masterlist • wip updates & voting • kofi • askbox

the ancient tongue was dead, dying a slow death as all languages did, evolving again and again with every civilisation that rose and fell, until it faded into obscurity. with the death of their language, their communication with their believers, the gods faded, too, their followers dwindling more and more as their names were buried along with the civilisations they led. once adored, worshipped, feared, now, their names only existed on scrolls, yellowed and deteriorated beneath layers of mortal history, unspoken in aeons.

katsuki kicked the door shut behind him, the bag of produce in his hand swinging back and forth with the movement. there was once a time where he was lavished with offerings of food he now had to purchase; countless altars he tended to piled with vegetables, wines, fire, soil, blood, accompanied with prayers to answer. he'd all but assimilated into living as a mortal; cooking (he was grateful, at least, for electric stoves, cooking lerthargically over a fire not quite how he wanted to spend eternity), showering, learning, exploring and working alongside the humans that once lived in his shadow.

he was one of the first to deflect from utopia, to abandon his temple, to give up on the belief that the gods, their language could return to how it was, and with it their followers. katsuki had simply grown bored of waiting alone in the stone temple, of wandering the perimeter hoping to find a lost mortal he could grant a miracle to, to find a mortal to bring meaning to godhood again. after all, what was a god without his believers?

he hadn't given up his blessings or miracles, albeit on a smaller scale than he once had, he still granted wishes as he had in utopia's heyday, the offerings he received now smiles across counters as people passed along paperwork, hoping to be one of the lucky ones, praying over pregnancy tests in bathrooms instead of in his altar. he gave up godhood, but he refused to give up his miracles, even if the mortals didn't know he was responsible.

the pot was finally at a rolling boil, his knife poised above the produce when he felt it, the sensation freezing his blood in his veins, the pull of a prayer in his veins, an echoing whisper of his name lighting his nerves alight. the god freezes, blond hair slipping into his eyes as his ears burnt, twitching at every noise, waiting to hear the sweet sound of the prayer once more.

"bakugou."

his face falls from shock to a scowl almost immediately, his pupils dilating, his skin itchy from adrenaline, his stomach twisting. it couldn't really be his name. this couldn't be a prayer. not after all this time.

the obsolete incantation runs off your tongue seamlessly; almost melodic, light as you cite the prayer carved into the stone at the base of his statue, your dialect nothing like what the prayer used to sound like, but the more you read, the harder he finds it to hate. your voice clouds his head, every word past your lips making the fog denser behind his eyes. there was a dull pain alongside it, an ache that pulsed with your every breath, the pain of a prayer.

the call of the prayer felt… foreign after so long (a millennium he thinks? maybe more, maybe less, years, decades, centuries and millenniums all blurred into one for immortals), katsuki was accustomed to the silence every god feared, the silence of being abandoned by your believers, of dwindling power and control. even with how it was feared, this almost felt worse; a single prayer cornering him in the kitchen after an aeon alone, a single spotlight in the darkness worse than the endless pitch black.

"told you it was bull." barefoot, he paces back and forth in the apartment, shifting uncomfortably as you traced a fingertip over the carved inscription, the touch feeling as if it was on the very nerves of his scalp, down the curve of his spine, catching on every bump of his vertebra. crimson eyes droop, a thick hand rubbing at the bridge of his nose, an attempt to soothe the pain of your voice bouncing around his head, the sensation of your touch on his effigy.

"hey, stop that," your giggle almost has his feet sliding against the tile, nearly tumbling backward as he stops in his tracks; his muscles straining to follow the magnetism of your voice, the melody of your intoxicating laugh while he rationalises your existence at all.

"is that why you brought me here, huh? you think being in some ancient sex temple means you'll get some?"

perks of being a god: immortality, immeasurable strength and influence, impenetrable skin (with maybe a couple flaws). downsides of godhood? the power of their followers over them.

it was… overwhelming, the itch beneath a gods skin when a devout believer called their name, the weight of a prayer, the unshakable desire to follow the call. thankfully, the perks also included the facilities to do so; something akin to teleportation, the voice like a blinding beacon in the night, guiding the god.

once upon a time, civilisations ago, it was a lot, too much, the night always lit like it was daylight with the light his followers cast out. his temple existed for this very reason, devout believers building the god a home, a sanctuary for the light of his followers, complete with the marble sculpture of the built god. then, it was at the centre of the village he ruled over, now, you and your lover had hiked up a mountain, and back down into the valley to find it, the stone weathered and covered in vegetation, it was a miracle you'd been able to work your way inside.

dragging his finger over cold stone, every ridge and bump as it once was, katsuki reminisced about a time before the silence, before the darkness, a time when people lined outside his temple with dreams of a child. years ago, women came alone to his temple, clad in robes they'd weaved specially for the fertility ritual (sometimes gifted at their weddings), kneeling in the altar to offer anything they had in exchange for their heir; piles of gold from queens who begged for a prince, beloved and wise to rule their kingdoms peacefully, warriors armed with iron to wish for a knight, strategic and strong enough to return home from battle again and again, farmers gripping their herbs with soil-stained hands, praying for a child born with kindness and thumbs so green the village would survive the winters once more, a marble statue of the god, towering at over 9 feet tall from a sculptor wishing for a child with as much passion for the arts as their parents.

visitors now were only accidental, stumbling upon the temple in the darkness of the valley, seeking shelter, safety, protection. never a prayer tumbling from their lips for an heir (he answered their prayers nonetheless, never allowing harm to befall anyone on his blessed grounds).

peeking from behind a pillar overtaken by the vegetation, he finally spotted you.

you sucked the breath from his lungs, walking further into the temple, a cute, mischievous grin tugging on the corners of your soft lips, chasing your lover with your eyes as he spoke, "you don't think it's romantic? fucking in an ancient sex gods temple?"

"he was the god of fertility, not sex." you step onto the age worn sigil by the base of the imposing statue, brushing layers of grey dust away.

you look so similar to the countless women before who laid on his mark, the way you studied the carved sigil carefully, curiosity and stars sparkling in your eyes, a heat burning beneath your skin, adrenaline spiking in your veins. eras ago, women were bare on the sigil, stone icy against their skin as they drew runes, marking their skin with blood, dirt or ink, in the language native to the gods.

"what's the difference?" their voice was low, lips brushing beneath your jaw, biting at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, nimble fingers sliding beneath your shirt to tug it higher, higher, on your torso, tugging the material over your head with a flick of his wrist.

the god was no stranger to topless women, probably seeing hundreds and thousands of them in his prime, but the way the man in front of you toyed with the fat on your chest nearly making his eyes meet the inside of his skull. your allure was impossible to resist when your boyfriend rolls your nipples between his forefingers and thumbs, tugging on the sensitive skin to pull a delicious whine from your throat.

the silence had made him soft.

"i've been waiting all day for this," katsuki's blood rushes in his ears when you both fall to the floor, limbs already beginning to tangle together, bodies becoming one at the mouth, at the hips, at the chest. your sweet sounds echo in the temple, increasingly breathless the longer you kissed and nipped and sucked and bit at your boyfriend.

the ancient tongue was dead, katsuki knew that, knew you had no way to know what you'd read, like some naive final girl in a cliche horror film, that the very god you were laid at the base of was real, that he could see and hear you, that his cock throbbed watching you. you had no way of knowing what you'd started. carmine eyes study the beat of your heart in your chest, the way your tits look when your breathing quickens, how irresistible you look when deft fingers trace the seam of your panties.

katsuki prays himself for the first time in his long life that he's the only god to see you right now, to watch your face change the lower your boyfriend travels, dragging his tongue over your skin as he goes (katsuki's thankful for every time the mortal man bites at your skin, for the yelp it elicits anytime his canines sink into your flesh). his fingertips twitch at his sides, itching to finalise the ritual you'd started with the single murmur of his name, the first syllable of a language foreign on your tongue but you'd recited it so naturally.

you exclaim your lovers name with another sweet giggle, his hands now gripping your ass, tugging your obstructive underwear down your pillowy thighs, tossing it as far as he can the moment the garment is free from your ankles.

the god's ears scald at the way you sound when the brunet's tongue flicks against your skin, sucking at your pussy just to draw increasingly needier sounds from your pretty mouth. he's not even watching you and he already knows your hips are jumping from the stone floor, grinding onto your lovers mouth and nose to work yourself closer to an orgasm. your moans echo in the stone temple, bouncing in every corner before travelling back to his ears, tempting his attention to you.

he stays steady, sharp carmine eyes narrowing on the altar.

more specifically, the lump of material atop the bench.

your underwear is draped across like an offering of its own to him, far more lewd than gold, iron and herbs, but it made his core ache when the moonlight caught in the centre of the fabric, a small damp spot glistening in the light.

fuck, it hurts, every nerve aching, screaming to finally put an end his celibacy, unbroken for far too long. he hadn't felt a need for a mortal like this since the beginning of his existence, the pure want filling his head with fog. this is a duty, this power he has, it is what he was made for, there was never this heavy, dense fog filling his head before, no follower making his blood burn like you were. and you didn't even know what you'd done.

bakugou's gaze is finally drawn back to you, your spine arching away from the stone, fingers tangling at the base of your boyfriends skull, tugging the hair harshly as you chanted his name, your hips stuttering, grinding messily back and forth on his face, until you stopped. you were still wound tight, your thighs clamped tight around his ears while you recovered, a dopey, lovesick smile planted firm on your cheeks.

your squeal makes his dick twitch, one last flick of his tongue over your overstimulated clit, blond eyebrows furrowing so hard at the centre it makes his head pound, you were making his head hurt. a desperation to finish the ritual filled his lungs, every breath a reminder of his name on your lips, of your panties across the altar, of your naked body atop his mark.

he needed this, needed to bury his cock in a pretty cunt, to fill you until you were a babbling mess, needed you.

sitting back on his knees, your lover wiped your creamy cum from his chin with the back of his hand, spreading it from his face to his fingers, hardly doing anything to clean the mess you'd made of his mouth.

your boyfriend finally moves out of the way, giving katsuki the front row seat he deserves, your thighs shining with slick the masterpiece he'd come to see. unblinking, he thinks he's squeezing his cock through his pants, he's not sure, too hypnotised by the way your hips still twitched, chasing your boyfriends warmth. onyx and ruby eyes alike study your face, glued to the way your eyes roll into your skull when his fingers, still wet with your cum, trace your clit once more, teasing the entrance of your pussy before circling your sensitive nerves once more.

katsuki knows he's stroking his cock now, frantically tugging at the zipper still preventing him from relief, his fist moving at the same pace you grind your hips down to your lovers hand, sucking his fingers into you, squeezing your cunt around them until your thighs shook. his hips rock into his hands when your tongue lolls from your mouth, your moans getting faster and faster once more.

he has to bite his lip to stifle a groan of his own, his fist pumping faster and faster again, squeezing the base of his cock when you press a kiss as soft as silk to his lips, looping your hips around his, tugging him closer when you came again.

"fuck, baby, next time you cum, it's with my cock inside you." dark hair shields your face from katsuki's vision momentarily, your boyfriend leaning over you, searching his discarded coat for something, tugging it closer and pulling each pocket inside out.

your thighs slip from his hips as he moves, wincing as your thighs made contact with the icy stone instead of his warm skin.

"shit, i think i left the condoms in the backpack," sliding the empty jacket over your chest, you tuck it beneath your arms, clutching it close to you with one hand, the other waving your boyfriend off as he ventured back toward the entrance of the temple, your gaze lingering on his ass until he was out of sight.

another perk of godhood: the blessed ground was subject to the chosen gods whims. some gods had their temples in the centre of labyrinthian mazes, others had their temples impossible to find, buried beneath the earth or deep in the ocean, hidden between mountains, camouflaged in vegetation, some invisible until the winter solstice, or until the new moon. katsuki never quite cared for that, leaving his temple as his followers built it for him, not implementing challenges for believers to prove their dedication like others had, only protecting his hallowed ground. until now.

stone scrapes against stone harshly, the coarse sound painfully invading your ears as the temple entrance seals. you drop the jacket into your lap, rushing to shield your ears from the sound with your palms pressed hard to your ears, searching around the room for your boyfriend, for his protection, katsuki supposes, like a mortal man could save you from the god you summoned, from what you started.

stepping out from the dark corner, his figure casts a sharp, long shadow as he stands to his full height in front of the statue. like this, you look identical to the women he used to bestow his miracles on; splayed on his sigil, staring up at him with dewy eyes (your blown pupils imperceptibly widening when your gaze rakes over his large form, taking everything in; blond mess of hair, darting crimson eyes, ruffled shirt as he rushed to hold it in his mouth watching you get your cunt eaten, his still-unzipped pants and finally the impressive bulge of his cock), your lips parting when he finally relaxes his shoulders, now standing easily at the shoulder of his statue.

"you-re—" your eyes dart between the imposing statue and his steely face, your voice airy, wobbling slightly as you continued, "you're real?"

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