#lay all your love on queue

[khairosclerosis]

☀️ ‘ don’t go sharing your devotion,

lay all your love on me ! ’

collab made with pm for the transfem kristoph zine, “atroquinine, my love!” [ @amlzine ] i did the sketch and lineart, they did the beautiful colour and rendering! we did two of them, check out the other half either in the zine (it’s free!) or on their post :]

my lineart & sketch under the cut ⭐️

- 🍊

[green-ocean]

'Cause everything is new

And everything is you

And all I've learned has overturned

What can I do?

Lay All Your Love On Me - ABBA

[orangechickenpillow]

'Lay all your love on me' 10 hour loop to fuck to

[wickedhawtwexler]

tonight i learned that the key to choosing karaoke songs without stress is picking a theme and only singing songs that fit the theme

[gloomyluvr]

NEEDY

in which rafe just wants to nap

fem!reader x rafe cameron

fluff

warnings!: bit of sarah shade. cameron siblings getting along (iktr 🙂‍↕️), reader is from the cut and kind of a pogue idk,

a/n: hiii ! first rafe fic ever and first fic since 2023 (oops...) to my spiderverse readers i will write when they give us content and when the fandom is alive. hope this fic is good and people like it. it's not the best but i'm working on other fics so give me a chance please 😣. this ones pretty short. pls let me know if you enjoyed this or if there are any spelling errors. requests are open !

masterlist

summer in the outer banks was nothing short of fun. spending most days at the beach taking in the warm sun, relaxing and cooling down in the cold water, all while hanging out with the people you love most. but fuck, did it get so hot sometimes. unbearably hot. it wasn’t enough to cool down in the water, the intense sun on skin overpowering the coolness of the ocean. it was worse at the chateau, or anywhere on the cut. only a lucky few could afford the luxury of air conditioning. fortunately, you had a super awesome hot rich boyfriend with a mansion with air conditioning that ran 24/7. 

you laid in bed with the youngest cameron sibling, helping her with online shopping for the upcoming school year. having been with rafe for just a couple months, you had become close with his sisters. you saw sarah at the chateau with john b more than you had ever really seen her at tannyhill. therefore, when you spent time at the mansion, you typically spent time with wheezie when you got bored with rafe. 

“wait, that one’s cute,” you pointed to a crop top on wheezie’s laptop which rested on her knees.

“i think i already have that one though.” she looked around her room to see if the top was among the clothes on the floor before giving up and continued scrolling through the catalogue, “i feel like these clothes are too revealing.”

“cmon wheeze! this is nothing, you just gotta get out of your shell. it’s just clothes, try something new and i don’t know, maybe you’ll like it.” you tried convincing the younger girl. over the past few months you had become like an older sister to her, as sarah spent more time with john b and the other pogues.

“my dad would never let me buy these,” she turned her head to look at you. 

“just put it on rafe’s card,” you whispered, “i won’t tell.” you stuck your pinky out and wheezie quickly wrapped her pinky around yours, giggling. 

as wheezie finalized her cart a familiar voice began to call out for you, “babeee! babeee where are you!”

wheezie rolled her eyes, “speak of the devil,” she muttered. 

“summon him and he shall come,” you smiled at her which she returned, “i’m in wheezie’s room!” you called back. on queue, you heard obnoxiously loud stomps coming up the stairs. “he is so dramatic and for what?”

rafe stood in the doorway looking at you and his younger sister, “why’d you steal my girlfriend, wheeze?” 

 it was your turn to roll your eyes, “she didn’t steal me, dipshit. you were too busy ignoring me for topper and kelce and your stupid game so i came up here where i am truly loved.” you sighed, wrapping yourself around wheezie who stuck her tongue out at her older brother. in return, rafe picked up one of the shirts laying on the floor and chucked it at wheezie. 

“douchebag!” she yelled.

“cmon y/n, i wanna go take a nap.” 

“but i’m so comfy here!” you whined cuddling wheezie tighter. 

rafe walked over to your side and quickly got on the bed, spooning you and throwing one of his long legs over your body, reaching wheezie. rafe wasn’t an affectionate brother by any means, but when he was with you he definitely softened up with everyone around you guys. 

wheezie kicked her brother’s calf, “ew get your nasty dogs away from me!” but rafe didn’t budge.

“what’re you guys doing?” he mumbled looking at the laptop screen. 

“y/n’s helping me shop for school.” 

“why? you have enough clothes. you don’t need none of those crop tops. no boyfriends till you’re 30.” rafe stated as he viewed the clothes on the screen.

you gently smacked the leg that was on top of your own, “don’t be rude! wheezie’s not little anymore.”

 “hm, whatever.” he grumbled, nuzzling his face against your neck, eyes shut as he fully enveloped you leaving no space between your bodies. his hands found yours, wasting no time to intertwine your fingers. 

“get off me, fatty!” you feigned disgust, as if you weren’t enjoying every second of rafe’s neediness to cuddle.

rafe grumbled, “only if you come take a nap with me in my room.” 

“fineeee, get up then,” you reached behind to gently smack his butt and he quickly got up, no effort to hide his big smile, “sorry wheeze, duty calls.” you sighed, getting up following rafe as he walked to wheezie’s door.

before walking out he turned back to wheezie and stuck his tongue out as she had done earlier. with no hesitation, wheezie returned the gesture as you smacked rafe’s head and shoved him out the door. 

[nondelphic]

the five stages of grief: writer's edition

denial: "this draft is amazing. no need for edits. it’s practically perfect as is." you’re so confident that you close the document for the day, smiling like you’ve just discovered the next great american novel (or swedish, or british, whatever). plot hole? who is she?

anger: "why did i ever think this was good? this is garbage. i am garbage. my characters are flat, my dialogue is cringe, and my prose sounds like a robot swallowed a thesaurus and threw up on the page." rage-quit the doc and go aggressively scroll pinterest for "writing inspiration" that you will never use.

bargaining: "if i fix this one scene, the whole thing will click into place. i just need to write one more subplot, maybe five more chapters, a quick rewrite of the entire ending, and then it'll be fine. totally manageable." queue up 17 youtube videos on "how to fix your plot" that you play in the background while staring at your ceiling.

depression: "i will never finish this book. it’s doomed. i’m doomed. why do i even write? who let me have ideas?!" lay dramatically on your bed, considering taking up knitting or rock collecting instead. cry a little over how your characters deserve a better writer.

acceptance: "this is the best i can do right now, and that’s okay. i’ll take a break, come back with fresh eyes, and remember why i love this stupid, broken story." suddenly, your MC whispers something brilliant, and you're like wait… maybe i'm a genius after all.

and the cycle begins again. writing is a joy.

[l3viat8an]

Mammon waking you up by going down on you (with prev consent ofc) or you waking Mammon up with a BJ >_<

Nsfw!

Honestly thought this posted already- cuz it was supposed to be in queue for Mams birthday jsksjsk

I feel like that would happen all the time after you start dating Mammon! I mean he just can’t get enough of you and it is a rather nice way to wake up~

And really some mornings he gets so needy and you look so sweet laying there next to him that he just can’t keep his hands or lips off of you.

At first Mammon was just planning to kiss you, a few kisses down your neck and chest wouldn’t hurt right?- then he starts going lower, moving your clothes out of the way so he can keep kissing your skin, down across your chest and tummy and somehow he ends up between your legs… oops~

You wake up slowly, your mind groggy with sleep and pleasure as your eyes open and all you can see of your boyfriend is a lump under the covers. But as soon as you wake up and start grinding your hips to meet his face a little harder Mammon grabs your hips to pin you back down. At the same time he lifts his head to look up at you, which makes the covers fall back a bit so you can see his face, (his hair is an absolute mess too but that’s not super important :D) a crooked little smirk on Mammon’s face as he sits up enough to press a few more soft and wet kiss across your tummy. Mumbling out “Mornin’ darlin’.” against your skin before he goes right back to what he was doing- making you cum on his face-

He thinks its cute how you try to prop yourself up a bit on your elbows to look down at him and enjoy the show, chuckling to himself as he sucks on your clit just right, that it has your head rolling back and you have to plop right back down onto the pillows because it felt that good.  After all he knows all your sweet spots.

Neither of you talk much but Mammon would praise you for being so good and cummin’ for him, ya should let him take care of ya more often~

Sooo of course it’s only right that you ‘repay him’ wake him up head the next morning.  

Again not hard Mammon almost always has ‘morning wood’ when you sleep in the same bed.

While you’re under the covers tease his tip a bit -trust me- before taking his cock all the way into your mouth.

As soon as you start Mammon’s awake and you can hear all his breathlessly, little moans of “Yea~” and “Oh fuck, yes darlin’, just like that” I’m telling you he can’t keep his mouth shut- “S-shit- Don’t stop fuck.” and even more, “Please- Yea, like that, faster.”

There is a special something -not quite tenderness but that’s the closest word you can think of- to Mammon in these moments. Even as you have his cock in your mouth, even as he groans under his breath and his legs tense. Even as he grabs a handful of your hair and gently pushes you down a little bit to see if you can take him even further down your throat, he’s not trying to be mean but he loves it when you gag on him. Making him moan even louder “Shit- So fuckin’ g-good treasure.” as he cums down your throat.

Maybe it’s the way he smooths over your hair as you swallow his cum. Or maybe it’s the way he starts to pull you up to lay your head on his chest and wraps his arms around you as tightly as he can immediately after. It’s all done with care, as if you’re the most precious thing in his room. And of course to him you are.

(Although if you wanna tease Mammon a little more instead- sit up before he can pull you up and let the covers pool around you as you make a show of licking the last few drops of his cum off your lips ;))

[sunaluv]

'IS SHE TAKEN?'

in which someone asks your man if you're single

feat: ran, gojo

RAN

the club setting was filled with more excitement tonight. don't get it twisted, any club or event hosted by the haitanis was guaranteed to be the event of the day, good vibes, hot people, and lots of money to be made. but when one of the brothers was actually present at the club? something about their aura seemed to bring out the vibes in people.

ran's hooded gaze watched adoringly at you across the club, the setting bringing nostalgia to the first time you met. ever the social butterfly you were, accepting another phone number from one of the girlfriends you made tonight. the other members of the roundtable looked at one another, wondering if the haitani brother was even present.

"no wonder you're so distracted, boss," the man next to him nudged him with his elbow, to which ran side-eyed him. "she's a looker, d'ya think she's single?"

your boyfriend appeared neutral as he let the guy ramble on about how hot you were, and what he would do to you given the chance. he missed the harsh roll of ran's eyes. if he didn't know you were spoken for, he would make sure this guy knew by the end of the night.

as if on queue, you waved bye to your new friends and started to make your way to the table. eyes followed your figure as you passed, but that was to be expected when the prettiest girl at the club walked past.

"hey, sweetheart," his soft lips pressed against the crown of your head. "you alright?"

"i'm good! a little tired though," you let out a deep sigh, melting into his arms. "these heels have been killing me..."

wordlessly, his large hands had your ankles in his lap, undoing the buckles on your heels and rubbing tender circles into the irritated skin.

he smirked at the relieved sigh that left your lips. "my buddy here has something to ask you, sweets."

the man next to you seemed to go silent since your arrival at the table, the consequences of his actions just hitting. a deep breath followed by a gulp as he wiped his damp hands against his slacks. he almost flinched when your hooded, yet dominating gaze met his own eyes, but after remembering who and where he was, he gained his composure almost as quickly as it left.

"nah 'ts nothin'," he waved his hand. "just a passing thought, is all..."

others both around the roundtable and those dancing near it tried not to make it obvious that they were watching the exchange going down. they found themselves pitying a character who would not deserve it, under different circumstances. but, as discussed, the haitani aura seems to throw things off of balance.

if he didn't want to talk, ran would do it for him. "he wants to know if your single, claims he could give you a lay better than your man could,"

your eyes left the man, instead looking over your boyfriends face in silent communication.

'you and i both know he can't'

'...i know, my love, just humor me every once in a while?'

'you're such a character sometimes, haitani'

'you love it though'

eyes darted between you, awaiting your response, thus his sentence in anticipation. he didn't know what telepathic language you were communicating in, but he was glad to not hear his fate get discussed right in front of him.

"i'm very flattered, but i have a boyfriend, sorry." your response was dry towards him, but the gaze you held with ran was anything but.

catching wind of what was about to happen, you excused yourself from the table, leaving a kiss on the corner of rans mouth, whispering a 'be good' in his ear before leaving.

whatever happened after your departure was not your business, after all.

GOJO

"hey man," a hand belonging to an unfamiliar man clasped on satorus shoulder. "do you know if the girl you came here with has a boyfriend?"

you had dragged your boyfriend to one of your friend's parties, much to his dismay. he's sworn off drinking after geto's blackmail folder started getting a bit thick, meaning there was nothing fun to do other than socialise, but he didn't want to after people flocked to him for the wrong reasons.

so now he was maybe the only sober one in this lively scene, which leads to the current events.

he spoke your name for clarity. "uhh, I'm not sure. you can go ask her if you want. ill even put in a good word for you."

has this man been a fraction more sober, he would've questioned why the blindfolded man's smile was so wide, or why he was so willing to help, but alas, this was a party and alcohol was supplied.

"thanks, dude! you're such a lifesaver."

satoru almost felt bad for the guy. he was practically buzzing whilst traversing through the sweaty bodies in search of you. he felt bad until he remembered how bored he was before this happened, he has to put himself first sometimes.

after a couple stumbles, reroutes and a rest break, they had finally found you in your angelic beauty, laughing with a group of girls he didn't know.

he thought it was quite cute how the guy seemed to become more shy at the sight of you, and satoru couldn't blame him. had he been someone more normal, he would act the same in your presence.

one of the girls caught sight of the pair by the entry and gestured you towards them. your face softened slightly at the sight of your six-foot-something boyfriend and his... friend?

"hey toru," you smiled, before looking at the other man. "who’s this?"

satoru said nothing, slapping the guy a little too harshly on the back before stepping back. the floor was his.

"hey," he breathed out, before introducing himself. "i saw you come in with your friend earlier, and just wanted to know if you were seeing anyone?"

your heart rate picked up, but not for the reason the guy was hoping. why was gojo like this? did he enjoy seeing you suffer?

he obviously did as when you looked over your shoulder to the said man, he gave you a big, encouraging grin with both thumbs up. the audacity.

he had thrown you to the wolves and left you to fend for yourself.

"uhm..." you breathed, trying not to shatter the poor guy's heart. "i have a boyfriend, unfortunately. sorry."

"what do you mean, unfortunately!" satoru mocked you from behind the guy. "I'm a total catch, right?" he turned to the guy. "right??"

though delayed, the guy had finally come to the realisation he had been punked by the man who egged him on the whole time. his face burst into a deep shade of red, apologising profusely before rushing back into the crowd.

"you're such an ass, gojo."

"the last name huh?" he scratched the back of his neck. "I'm in for it arent i?"

[lnfours]

* ✰. — birds of a feather | l.n

summary: i’ll love you til the day that i die.

warnings: the result of the new billie eilish album being on repeat and me having this song stuck in my head, so this was born. fluff, fluff and more fluff bc i said so. slowly getting my creative juices back, so bear with me.

masterlist | soundtrack

you hadn’t been looking for anything when you had met lando. a freshly graduated student who finally had time to find interest in their personal life, rather then spend their time consumed with textbooks in front of them, trying to navigate your way through the chaotic mess of life.

but the moment the curly haired brit bumped into you in the paddock, sending your notes and fresh cup of coffee all over you and the ground, you were doomed. falling head first into the comforting chaos that was lando norris.

and you thanked your stars every morning when you woke up that you had been running late that day, or else you would’ve never met the sleeping boy next to you. wouldn’t have ever gotten the chance to get to know the sought after driver with a big heart and who loves with his whole soul.

you smiled to yourself, sitting in the bed and taking in the way he slept peacefully, not aware how pretty he looked in the morning sun as it peaked in through your blinds. his cheek pressed against the pillow, his lips slightly parted as he slept.

you couldn’t help but reach out and brush the stray curl away from his face, smiling softly as he stirred in his sleep at your touch. your silent way to keep going, your nails scratching at his scalp gently. a soft hum came from him, followed by the gorgeous sight of his green eyes shining up at you. his eyes fully adjusting to the brightness as he squinted, his hand reaching out to yours.

“c’mere,”

his voice was hoarse and sleep coated, but it never failed to send shivers down your spine. you scooted closer, letting him pull you into his side. your face nuzzled in his bare shoulder, his head laying on top of yours.

“we need to be up soon,” you said, poking his ribs gently, “your family’s coming to see the new house and have dinner, remember?”

he didn’t, actually. and if it wasn’t for you, he’d be certain he’d miss all of his meetings, call times, and hell, even sometimes the start of his races. thankfully, you were never far from him on the pitlane. the perks of working with sky, who he should really thank. he’d make a mental note to do it next race. right now, he was going to enjoy the peaceful month he got to spend with you. uninterrupted peace, free time. where you got to whatever you wanted, wherever you wanted.

he groaned, nuzzling his face into your hair. you laughed softly, “lando,”

“i like when you say my name,” he mumbled, “say it again.”

you chuckled, and in your best flirty tone you could muster up in the moment, you did, “lando,”

he pressed a soft kiss to the skin of your neck, right where your neck and collarbone met. his favorite spot to kiss whenever he teased you because he knew you were ticklish.

and as if on queue, you giggled, shoving his head from your neck, “stop it,”

“just five more minutes,” he pleaded, “with my girl, in our bed, that’s all i ask.”

you sighed, “fine, but not one second longer.”

he smiled, knowing he could always get you to fold. you hated to admit it, but you’d always cave for him. do whatever he wanted. he had you wrapped around his finger and you had him wrapped around yours. smitten for each other, young in love, whatever you wanted to call it, you were it.

“how’d you sleep?” you asked, finger tips tracing the lines in your mind that you drew with your fingers every morning. connecting the moles on his skin, from his shoulders to his chest and down to his sides. your own little routine you had incorporated, a habit you picked up after the first night you spent together a year and a half ago.

“good until you woke me up.”

“you love when i wake you up.”

“you’re right,” he mumbled, “getting to see that pretty face every morning is the highlight of my day.”

you chuckled, leaning up on your elbow, reaching around and grabbing his cheek into your hand. he smiled softly as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his.

he pulled away, a smile on his lips as they brushed against yours, “and your morning kisses, i love waking up to your lips on mine, or on my-“

you shook your head, laughing and covering his face with your pillow before pulling yourself out from the covers, “alright, time to get up!”

“that wasn’t five minutes!” he gasped, tossing your pillow your way softly, teasingly. you laughed, walking into the connected bathroom, calling back to him.

“long enough! you killed the romantic mood,”

“i’m only speaking my truth, baby,” he said, footsteps joining you in the bathroom, watching him lean against the doorway out of the corner of your eye, “is a man not allowed to speak his truth?”

you popped the toothbrush in your mouth, sending him a glare. he laughed, pressing a kiss to your head before grabbing his own toothbrush from his side of the sink. he joined you in brushing your teeth, wrapping an arm around your waist. you smiled softly, trying to ignore how good he looked. sweatpants loosely hanging around his waist, bare chest on full display, curls wild and in serious need of taming.

you two looked good together, and even though he wasn’t necessarily considered ‘tall’ he still stood a few inches above you. his green eyes met yours in the mirror, and he knew you were subtly checking him out. he sent you a wink and you rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finished brushing your teeth.

he finished shortly after you, watching you as you rummaged around in your drawer. you pulled out the skincare he had seen you put on every morning and night, and even has put on for you after nights where you’ve had one too many vodka redbulls.

he leaned against the counter, watching you in the mirror as you rubbed the product into your skin, “can i have some?”

you giggled, moving to stand between his legs. you squeezed a little bit of the moisturizer onto your fingers, rubbing into his face. he grinned softly at your gentle touch, “that smells good.”

you nodded, “and it has sunscreen in it, it’s good for you.”

he motioned towards your drawer, “do you have any lip balm?”

you hummed, putting the tube back before grabbing the lip balm. you went to hand it to him but he raised an eyebrow at you. you sighed with a laugh, shaking your head.

“gimme,” you said, grabbing his chin and swiping the lip balm against his pursed lips. you couldn’t help but giggle again, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his lips when you were done, “there.”

he rubbed his lips together and hummed, “hmm, is that coconut?”

you nodded, “like it?”

he nodded, pulling you in closer by your waist, “love it.”

you grabbed his wrist, checking the time on his watch, “they’ll be here in an hour.”

“so what i’m hearing is-“

“no,” you shoved his shoulder with another laugh, “what im saying is that i need to run to the store and get flowers for the vase on the table.”

“who needs flowers,” he said, pressing a kiss to your chest, “when i could have you back in my bed, all to myself for a little while longer until i have to share you for the rest of the day.”

you ran a hand through his hair, his eyes looking up to meet yours, “as tempting as it sounds, i really do have to run to the store. plus, i have to get some stuff for dinner.”

he sighed dramatically, “okay,”

you walked into the closet, rummaging through his side and stealing one of his hoodies and fishing out a pair of sweatpants. a quick outfit to run a few last minute errands.

he had found his way to the kitchen, standing at the coffee pot. you pinched his side, kissing his shoulder. he turned his head and smiled, leaning down and kissing your head, “need anything while i’m out?”

“mm,” he hummed, “breakfast? i don’t feel like cooking.”

you laughed, “me either. i’ll pick up something.”

he nodded, smiling playfully, “i guess you can take my car.”

“oh i was going to,” you said, grabbing his key off the hook, “even without your permission.”

“rude!”

you laughed, blowing him a kiss, “i’ll be back. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

your trip to the store was quick, making it back within a half an hour, arms full of things as you carried everything inside, closing the door with your foot. you set everything on the counter, hanging the keys back on the hook.

“i’m back!”

“i’m in the bedroom!” his voice called back to you. you made your way down the hallway and into the bedroom, smiling as he held up two shirts in the mirror.

“which looks better?” he asked, holding both up against the pair of plaid pants he had picked out. you hummed, standing behind him and watching his reflection. his hair being perfectly styled and his cologne filling the room telling you he had been getting ready while you were gone.

you pointed to the white shirt, “that one.”

“you think?”

you nodded, watching him take it off the hanger and slipping it over his shoulders. you stepped in front of him, buttoning the buttons. purposefully leaving the top few open.

he rolled up the sleeves, sending you a look, “might as well have my whole shirt unbuttoned.”

“i wouldn’t complain.” you joked and he smiled, before quickly realizing your attire. you smile as he started pulling at the hem of his hoodie that sat on your frame.

“hey! this is mine.”

the baby blue hoodie looked better on you anyway, but he still liked to joke around with you, “i know.”

“thief.”

“come and get it then.” you shrugged, crossing your arms.

“oh, so now you’re in the mood?” he asked, “what was it? the buttons?”

you laughed as he wrapped his arms around your waist, “maybe.”

“you’re going to be the death of me.”

“you love me.” you smiled, his hands finding your warm, soft skin under his hoodie.

“damn right i do, baby. til the day i die.”

[ervotica]

i just saw someone talk about pornstar!patrick and my third eye opened up

shut up i’ll die actually

warnings; smut, 18+, fem!reader, pornstar!patrick, p in v sex, allusions to reader being eaten out, patrick is hot <3

a/n; i’m insane for this actually. pls send more pornstar!patrick asks i’ll beg for them 🥹

this is him <3

thinking of a self made pornstar!patrick, started off making solo videos of him jerking off in the dirty backseat of his car. utterly surprised when viewers couldn’t get enough of him and he earned enough money to make a living off of making porn of himself.

he starts inviting other men, women - anyone who shows interest in him and his videos - to shoot with him, and soon he has a plethora of people lining up for a chance to fuck him, even if it’s on camera.

he bypasses the entire queue when he catches wind of you, a soft little thing with a mean streak he so desperately wants to explore, and he’s running straight to your messages to set a date.

he pays for your transport and your stay — a five star hotel that is far more expensive than anywhere you’ve been in your entire life.

it doesn’t feel orchestrated when the camera starts filming. it doesn’t feel like an act as he works you up with his hot breath over your cunt and two thick fingers that sink into your weeping hole. it doesn’t feel fake when you bury your fingers into his hair and tug, relishing in the way he moans and ruts his hips into the plush bed beneath you.

and it certainly doesn’t feel fake when he makes you cum harder than you ever have before.

his viewers all envy you, want to be you, when he folds your legs to your chest and feeds you his cock inch by inch. it’s a tight fit, that’s for sure, but you’ve never felt more full, more stretched in your life, and you fucking love it.

the way the head of his cock, a visceral red, notches against your entrance as he sinks in in in, further than you thought possible until the weeping slit burrows against your cervix, the way you keen and clutch at his shoulders as he murmurs praises because you’re being so good, baby, just a little more now.

he’s barely one thrust in before you’re cumming around him with a shudder and a cry, and it’s stronger than anything you’ve ever felt in your life, so easy the way he takes you apart because he’s already memorised your cunt, already knows how to fuck it.

and he’s hooking his arms beneath the dip of your spine, dragging you up to meet his hot mouth in a greedy kiss, all tongues and teeth and fire and passion, and that paired with the way he’s fucking you - the filthy roll of his hips that never slows, never stops - is enough to have you cumming round him again.

he fucks like he’s in love with you and he hates you all at once, spears you open on his cock and keeps you spread out beneath him, teases and taunts until you growl with frustration and claw at him. it makes him laugh, a low, gravelly sound against your lips as he concedes and pistons his hips into you with more fervour than before.

once you’re well and truly fucked out, you crawl between his legs and wrap your mouth around him, and he’s sure he meets god.

and then the camera comes off, and a switch flips in him as he watches you laying on the bed, breathing heavily, eyes closed, a sleepy smile on your face.

patrick zweig might just be in love.

the video skyrockets in views and profits, climbing straight to the most popular he’s ever made. viewers beg him to keep you as a permanent fixture within his channel. and, well, who would he be if he didn’t give the people what they want?

-

challengers taglist; @diorrfairy @igotmajordaddyissues @xotwod-jade @imbabycowboy @cloudnitee @hobocatton

[badathumanemotions]

Hey could you do a Spencer NSFW fic where you end up trapped in a confined space with him (maybe hiding from an unsub) and all your personal space is gone and stuff gets heated yk and then maybe it’s carried on later in a hotel room that they had to share (dom spence, degradation, size kink etc) whatever you want to do really 🫶🫶

Hidden Feelings

Spencer Reid x Fem Reader MDNI MasterList Category: Smut CW: Smut, Oral Sex (fem), Praise, Dirty Talk, Use of Good Girl and Sweet Girl, Riding, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Aftercare, Love Confessions. WC: 7,194 My brains been foggy lately so it's taking me longer to write these. Sorry guys. Also because of the long breaks I totally forgot to add everything you asked for and my Dom Spencer's a little rusty. Sorry anon. (Not Proof Read)

In the heart of a long-forgotten industrial district, the abandoned restaurant stood, a relic of a bygone era. The team had received an anonymous tip, a whisper on the wind that led them to this desolate corner. You and Spencer Reid drew the short straws, tasked with investigating the eerie structure.

Peeling paint and shattered windows cast a grim pallor over the faded sign that swung lazily in the breeze. You felt a shiver run down your spine as you approached, your footsteps echoing against the cracked pavement. Spencer, ever the intellectual, rattled off facts about the place's history, trying to fill the silence with something other than the heavy tension that hung in the air.

Inside, the restaurant was a maze of dust-covered tables and chairs, the smell of stale grease clinging stubbornly to the air. The kitchen was a jungle of rusty pans and forgotten spices, the floor sticky with a layer of grime that had built up over the years. Despite the emptiness, it felt as though you were intruding on a place where secrets had been left to fester in the dark.

The tip you received was vague, hinting at suspicious activity in the area. You and Spencer moved methodically, your eyes scanning every corner for the faintest trace of anything could help with the case. You weren't quite sure what you were looking for – a clue, a sign, anything to justify the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach. Spencer paused every so often, his sharp mind analyzing anything out of place.

It was in the kitchen that you stumbled upon the horror. The ticket holder, once used to organize orders, now held a different kind of queue – a series of surveillance photos of the victims. Each face hauntingly familiar from the case files you've studied. The sight of their images, captured unknowingly by the monsters you were hunting, sent a cold chill through your system. Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, his voice barely above a whisper as he pointed out the meticulously laid out schedules scattered around the kitchen counters. It was clear that these Unsubs had been stalking their prey, plotting their every move.

The two of you withdrew your weapons now on high alert. You continued clearing the place, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat a reminder of the lives at stake. You could feel Spencer's tension beside you, his breaths shallow and eyes darting around the room as he searched for any sign of the trio.

Approaching a back office, you pushed the door open with your foot, not taking any chances. The room was a time capsule of forgotten paperwork and dusty filing cabinets. A desk sat in the centre, with a table beside it covered by a faded tablecloth.

The papers scattered across the surface looked like they had been abandoned in a hurry. Invoices, receipts, and pay stubs lay in a disorganized heap. You squinted in the dim light, trying to make sense of the dates. They were from before the restaurant had closed, a mundane record of a business that no longer existed.

Then, the unmistakable sound of footsteps, heavy and deliberate, echoed through the empty dining area. You and Spencer froze, your eyes locking for a split second. The blood drained from your face as you both realized the gravity of the situation. The Unsubs had returned and you were out numbered.

You caught a glimpse of four men, their silhouettes looming through the dust. At least two were obviously armed, their weapons glinting in the sliver of light that pierced the dimly lit space. They were getting closer and you had to think fast.

With a burst of adrenaline, you grabbed Spencer by the arm and pushed him down onto the floor, under the protection of the dusty tablecloth. He tumbled backward, his eyes wide with surprise, and you quickly followed, landing on top of him in a desperate attempt to hide. Your heart hammered against your ribs as the fabric of the cloth billowed around you, threatening to give you away with every breath.

With quick hands, you pulled out your phone and silently typed a message to Hotch, your thumb hovering over the 'Send' button. The footsteps grew louder, each step bringing the danger closer. You hit 'Send' and shoved the phone into your pocket. You could feel Spencer's body tense beneath yours, his muscles coiled like a spring, clearly thrown off by you sitting on top of him.

He begins to squirm, and you knew he was uncomfortable, not just from the fear of being discovered but also from your proximity. The cramped space made it impossible not to be aware of every inch of your bodies pressing together.

Spencer tries to sit up, but you're quick to react. You place a hand firmly on his chest and push him back down, shaking your head.

Suddenly, he whispered, his voice strained and urgent, "We should change positions, it's not…ideal." But before he could finish, you clamped your hand over his mouth. You didn't know if the Unsubs had heard you, but you couldn't take that risk.

"Quiet, we don't want them to hear us."

You felt Spencer's body stiffen even further as your breath danced against the sensitive skin of his neck. You could feel his pulse racing against your chest, a frantic drumbeat matching the tempo of your own heart. You shifted slightly, the movement pressing your ass against his growing arousal. His breath hitched beneath your palm. It was an accident, but one that sent a jolt of heat through you.

The voices grew louder, the Unsubs seemingly oblivious to the danger hiding in the shadows. They talked in hushed tones, their words muffled by walls between them and your hiding spot. You strained to listen, hoping for some clue as to their plans or identities. The words were indecipherable, but the tone was one of excitement and anticipation.

As the moments dragged on, the tension in the air thickened, coiling around you and Spencer like a serpent. His body was taut beneath yours, the fabric of your clothes the only barrier between you. The adrenaline had shifted gears, no longer just a fight-or-flight response but a potent cocktail of fear and desire.

You felt his hands grip the back of your thighs, knuckles almost white with restraint. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and the friction of your movements was setting something alight between you. It was a dangerous dance, one that had no place in the middle of a horror show, but your body didn't seem to care about the setting.

Spencer's eyes searched yours, looking for a sign, a silent question. Was this real or just the situation playing tricks on you both? But the desire was unmistakable, a palpable force that seemed to fill the air in the tiny space. You drop your head down, your nose brushing against his cheek, and for a heart-stopping second, you thought about what it would be like to kiss him right then and there.

The sound of the Unsubs grew closer, their footsteps echoing in the hall outside the office door. Spencer's hands slid from your thighs to your hips, his grip tightening. The heat of his touch seemed to burn through your clothes, setting every nerve ending alight. The fear was still there, a live wire running through your veins, but it had morphed into something more primal, something that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat.

You met Spencer's gaze, and in that fraction of a second, everything changed. The hunger you saw in his eyes was raw and undeniable. It was a look you'd never seen from him before, one that made your heart skip a beat and your body respond in ways you hadn't anticipated. For a moment, the horror of the situation was forgotten, replaced by the all-consuming need to touch, to taste, to claim.

Your hand slowly slid from his mouth to cup his jaw, feeling the stubble that had formed over the past few days of non-stop work. His breath was hot against your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. The intimacy of the gesture was not lost on either of you, but in the face of the danger lurking outside, it seemed to be the only thing that made sense.

Spencer's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. The sound of the Unsubs' footsteps grew fainter as they moved away from the office, but the intensity between you only grew stronger. His hands slid up your back, tangling in your hair, and you both leaned in, lips almost touching.

Suddenly, salvation in the form of a vibration. Your phone. The team had gotten your message. You felt a rush of hope as you realized that rescue was on the way. The vibration against your leg was a silent shout of reassurance, a beacon in the dark.

You both knew that you had to keep it together, to keep the facade of professionalism until the danger had passed. The text message seemed to sober you both up, the urgency of the situation slapping you back into the stark reality of your predicament.

You glanced down at the screen, noting the time since you'd sent the SOS. It felt like hours, but it had only been minutes. The message was simple: "In position. Hold tight." Spencer's eyes met yours, understanding passing between you in a fraction of a second. The weight on your chest lifted slightly, the fear ebbing away just enough to allow you to breathe again.

The sound of the Unsubs grew fainter as they moved away from the office. You dared not speak, not even a whisper, as you both listened intently for any clue to their whereabouts. Spencer's hand slid from your hair to the small of your back, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your spine. You shivered at his touch, the line between terror and passion blurring further.

Suddenly, the air was pierced by the sound of shattering glass. The Unsubs had been spooked, and the cavalry had arrived. The SWAT team, alerted by your message, had come crashing through the restaurant's front windows, the shards raining down like a crystal waterfall in the dusty room. You could feel Spencer's body tense beneath you, his muscles coiled and ready to spring into action.

You both took this as your cue to come out of hiding. With a silent nod of understanding, you slithered out from under the tablecloth, drawing your weapon as you went. Spencer was right behind you, his eyes sharp and focused, scanning the room for any sign of the quartet. The office door was slightly ajar, and the sound of chaos outside grew louder with each passing second.

As you emerged into the corridor, the scene that met you was one of organized mayhem. The SWAT team was spread out through the restaurant, their movements precise and calculated as they secured the area. You saw Morgan taking down one of the Unsubs with a well-placed tackle, the man's body hitting the floor with a heavy thud.

The other three Unsubs were already in cuffs, their faces a mix of shock and rage as they were read their rights. You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you realized that it was over, that no one else would suffer because of them.

He approached you and Spencer, his gaze sweeping over the two of you with a practiced eye. "Are you both okay?" he asked, his voice low and steady. You nodded, still trying to catch your breath, and Spencer managed a tight smile.

Morgan's eyes lingered on the two of you, and for a moment, you wondered if he could see the unspoken tension that had arisen between you during the standoff. But he said nothing, only nodded and turned back to the rest of the team.

The wrap-up was a blur, a flurry of activity that seemed to happen in fast-forward. You watched as the Unsubs were led out of the building, their heads bowed in defeat. The SWAT team secured the perimeter, and the forensic unit began their meticulous dance of collecting evidence. Your heart was still racing, the adrenaline from earlier lingering.

Before you knew it, you were in the back of an SUV, the cool leather pressing against your heated skin. Spencer was sitting beside you, the two of you trading glances. The silence between you was deafening, charged with the electricity of the kiss you had almost shared.

You couldn't help but wonder if it was the adrenaline that had pushed you both over the edge, or if there had always been something more simmering beneath the surface. The team was busy around you, talking and filling in the gaps of what had just transpired. But all you could think about was the way Spencer's body had felt beneath yours, the way his hands had explored you in the dark.

Once back at the precinct, you were just going through the motions. While the majority of the team interrogated the Unsubs, you found yourself cataloguing evidence with a sense of detachment, your mind replaying the events in the abandoned restaurant.

The almost kiss kept playing in your mind like a record on repeat. You couldn't shake the feeling of Spencer's breath against your skin, the way his eyes had searched yours for something unspoken. Each time you reached for a new piece of evidence, your hand would tremble slightly, a reminder of the intimate moment you had shared.

The touch of his fingers on your spine had been electric, sending a shiver down to the very core of you. You found yourself acutely aware of every point of contact, every brush of skin on skin, feeling as if you were still entwined under that dusty tablecloth. The memory of his arms around you was a comforting embrace that seemed to linger.

You froze for a moment as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks: you were sharing a room with Spencer tonight. The implications of what had almost happened weighed heavily on your mind as you continued to process the adrenaline-filled afternoon. You'd been partners for so long, so close, yet this was uncharted territory. You couldn't help but wonder how this would affect your relationship, both personally and professionally.

The case was wrapped up. Everything else was left for the locals. You and the team had done your part, leaving the cleanup to the local law enforcement. The Unsubs were behind bars, and the victims could now find some semblance of peace.

As you and the team divided into cars, you found yourself paired with Morgan and Prentiss. Spencer ended up in the car with Hotch, Rossi, and JJ, his eyes meeting yours briefly before the doors slammed shut, leaving you to wonder what might happen next. The drive to the hotel was a blur of city lights and the muffled chatter of your colleagues. You were lost in thought, replaying every heart-pounding moment in the abandoned restaurant.

When you finally arrived at the hotel, the lobby was a bustle of activity. The team checked in with weary efficiency, the gravity of the case still weighing on everyone's shoulders. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment as Spencer's gaze didn't seek you out among the crowd. Perhaps it was better this way, you thought, a chance to cool off and sort out the tumultuous emotions that had taken hold of you.

You headed up to the room, the elevator's slow ascent feeling like an eternity. You were sure that the conversation that was bound to happen would be a letdown. It had to be the adrenaline, you reasoned with yourself. It was the only explanation for the way your body had responded to his touch. But as the doors opened and you stepped into the quiet corridor, the memory of his arms around you seemed to follow you.

You fished the room key out of your pocket and slipped it into the lock, turning the handle with a click. The door swung open, revealing a space that felt too small for the emotions you were carrying.

Standing in the middle of the room, you took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself before Spencer joined you in your shared hotel room. The walls felt closer than they should, the air filled with the anticipation of an unspoken conversation that loomed. You studied your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out any signs of distress, hoping to maintain a facade of calm.

As the lock clicked open, the sound echoed through the room. Your entire body tensed, not ready for what the night might hold. Spencer stepped in, his eyes briefly scanning the room before they settled on you.

For a moment, you just stared at each other, the silence stretching out between you. His face was a mask, revealing nothing. You searched his gaze, desperate to find some clue, some hint of what was going through his mind. But Spencer was a master of poker faces, and he wasn't giving you anything to work with.

Then, without any warning, Spencer closed the distance between you, his hands coming up to cup your face. His touch was surprisingly firm, yet gentle, his thumbs tracing the line of your jaw as he leaned in. His lips met yours in a kiss that was as intense as it was unexpected, stealing the breath from your lungs. You felt your knees wobble as you kissed him back with an equal fervour.

You gripped onto Spencer's shoulders, your nails digging into his shirt as you tried to keep yourself tethered to reality. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his hands splayed against the small of your back.

He broke the kiss abruptly, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. "Tell me you want this" he growled.

"Yes," you assured him, the word coming out as a breathless whisper. "I want you," you clarified.

With frantic movements, you both began to undress each other, the fabric of your clothes seeming to dissolve away in your haste. Buttons popped and zippers hissed as the barriers between you fell away. You could feel the heat from his skin as your shirts were discarded.

Spencer reached around and unclipped your bra with an ease that made your stomach flip. He took his sweet time peeling the fabric away, revealing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He didn't waste a second before his mouth found them, his lips closing around your nipple with a gentle suction that sent a jolt of pleasure through you. You gasped, your back arching, pushing your chest closer to his face.

With a groan, he began to suck, his tongue flicking and teasing the sensitive bud as you tangled your fingers in his hair. His hands followed suit, cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over the peaks as he played with your nipples. He switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Each nip and suck sent electricity through your body, making your legs threaten to give out.

Once he had his fill, he moved on to your trousers, taking them and your underwear down with a gentle urgency. You stepped out of the fabric pooled around your ankles, feeling vulnerable and exposed. He knelt before you, marvelling at the sight before him, his eyes dark with desire. You felt a blush spread across your cheeks as he looked up, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in your very soul. "All mine to taste." He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his eyes travelled down your body.

With a gentle but firm tug, Spencer's hands slid down to the back of your thighs, urging you closer. You stepped into the embrace, feeling his warm breath against your sex. The sensation sent a shiver through your body, and you bit your lip to hold back a whimper of need. His fingers dug into the flesh, gripping tightly as if he needed the anchor.

He leaned in, his tongue tracing the seam of your pussy. You felt his hot breath against your clit, the anticipation making it throb with desire. He circled the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue, the touch so light it was almost maddening.

You moaned, your hands finding their way into his hair, gripping the soft strands as he began to apply more pressure. Spencer's eyes never left yours as he started to devour you, his mouth working magic on your clit, his tongue flicking and teasing until you were grinding against his face, desperate for more.

He chuckled darkly at your eagerness, his hands moving to grip your ass, pulling you closer until you were practically riding his face. His tongue plunged into your wetness, tasting you deeply, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped your lips. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and vulnerability that had you teetering on the edge.

"That's right, sweetheart," Spencer murmured, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Cum for me. Let me feel you come apart." His words were a command, a demand that sent a thrill through your body. You could feel the muscles in your abdomen tighten, your orgasm building in your core.

Obeying his urging, you began to rock your hips, grinding your clit against his tongue. The pressure was exquisite, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. His eyes remained locked on yours, his pupils blown wide with desire, his mouth wide open collecting your juices. His hands tightened on your ass, his fingers digging in, urging you to move faster, to give him what he wanted.

And then, with a final, needy grind against his mouth, you shattered. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, crashing over you leaving you trembling and gasping for air. You could see the triumph flash in his eyes as he felt you come apart. He didn't stop, though, continuing to lick and suck until your legs gave out needing him to catch you.

With a firm grip on your waist, he guided you to the bed, his movements sure and decisive. The mattress dipped as you sat down, and he didn't waste a second before he was beside you, his body pressing into yours, his mouth claiming yours in a kiss that was as possessive as it was hungry.

"Good girl," he murmured against your lips, the words a dark praise that sent a thrill through your body. He pushed you back onto the bed, his body following yours, his weight a delicious pressure that made your heart race even faster. You felt the heat of him, his arousal pressing against your thigh, and it was all you could do to keep from reaching down and taking him in your hand.

Spencer sat up, his eyes never leaving yours as he removed the rest of his clothes. Each article of clothing fell away, revealing more of the toned body you had only ever seen glimpses of. His chest was bare, a blush trailing down it, and his erection was clear through his boxer briefs. He watched your reaction, a smug satisfaction in his gaze as he revealed himself to you.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he pushed the last of his clothes off. "How hard it was to keep my hands to myself while we were hiding." His hand slid down his body, gripping his cock, giving it a slow stroke that had you biting your lip.

The admission sent a bolt of desire through you, making your heart race even faster. You had known there was something between you, something that went beyond friendship and partnership, but to hear him voice it so bluntly was exhilarating.

Spencer climbed over you, his breath hot against your neck as he whispered in your ear, "While you were on top of me, I couldn't help but imagine what it would feel like to have you riding me like that, taking me deep inside you." His words were raw, unfiltered, and they sent a shiver down your spine. You could feel the heat of his arousal, his cock pressing into your thigh as he spoke.

He trailed kisses down your neck, each one a silent promise of what was to come. "I wanted to rip your clothes off right there," he confessed, his voice a low growl that resonated through your body. "To feel you wet and ready for me, to hear you scream my name as I made you cum."

The words alone were almost enough to push you over the edge again. Your pussy throbbed with need, your inner walls clenching around emptiness, desperate for his touch. A moan slipped past your lips, and you threw your head back, giving him full access to your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, and you felt a shiver of pleasure that went straight to your core.

"Please," you begged, the word a breathy whisper that seemed to hang in the air. "I need you inside me." Your voice was ragged with desire, your eyes never leaving his as you made your plea. The raw need in your eyes seemed to be all the permission Spencer needed.

With a final, lingering kiss, he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds. "Don't worry, sweet girl," he murmured, his voice low and dominant. "I'll take care of you."

He slammed into you with a force that made you gasp. The feeling of being filled by him was almost painful in its intensity, but the pain quickly gave way to pleasure as your body adjusted to his size.

Spencer's eyes were hooded with desire as he watched your reaction, his hips moving in a punishing rhythm. His hands gripped the headboard, the wood creaking under his grip as he thrust deeper and deeper, his whole body taut with the effort.

You could feel the mattress shift with every pounding stroke, the springs groaning in protest beneath you. The sensation was almost overwhelming, a delicious mix of pain and pleasure that had you panting and writhing beneath him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to pull him closer, urging him deeper.

Spencer took your cue, his hands moving from the headboard to your hips, his grip unyielding as he set a rhythm that had you seeing stars. His hips snapped against you, his cock filling you completely, the sensation of fullness making your eyes roll back in your head. He was a force of nature, a storm of passion that you had unleashed, and you were helpless to do anything but ride the waves of pleasure that he brought.

You could feel the headboard knocking against the wall with every thrust, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through the room. Each time he pushed into you, your breath hitched, a whimper escaping your lips. His eyes watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face, his expression one of fierce concentration.

"Look at me," Spencer demanded. You obeyed, locking your gaze onto his, unable to look away as he claimed you, body and soul. His dominance was intoxicating, the way he took control of your pleasure, leaving you powerless to do anything but submit to his will.

With a slight adjustment of his hips, he angled himself just right, and you felt the electric sensation as his cock hit your g-spot. A shocked yelp escaped your lips, your eyes widening with surprise. The intensity was almost too much, but you didn't want him to stop.

The sound of your moans grew louder with every thrust, filling the small room. Spencer smirked, his eyes dark with arousal as he leaned in close, his hand coming up to cover your mouth. "Quiet," he whispered, his voice a seductive rumble in your ear. "We don't want them to hear us, do we?" It was a playful reminder of your earlier words.

You moaned against his hand, the muffled sound only serving to add to the intensity of the moment. The heat from his palm was like a brand on your skin, searing your lips as you fought to keep your noises contained.

As the pleasure mounted, he slowly switched to putting his thumb in your mouth while the rest of his hand cupped your cheek. The act was both innocent and incredibly erotic, a silent plea for more as your teeth grazed his skin, your tongue swirling around the digit.

The sound of his groan filled the room, a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very air. It sent a bolt of electricity through your body, making your pussy clench around his cock. Spencer's eyes darkened with need, his thumb pressing deeper into your mouth, his hips moving faster, his strokes more urgent.

"So fucking tight," he murmured, his voice a low, guttural growl. "You're so wet for me, aren't you?" His words went straight to your pussy, your body responding instinctively to his words. You nodded, unable to form coherent sentences as he continued his relentless assault on your senses.

"Tell me," he demanded, his hips grinding into you, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust. "Tell me how good it feels." You moaned around his thumb, the sound muffled and wanton.

"Am I fucking you so good you can't answer?" he taunted, his voice low and full of smug satisfaction.

You could only nod, the words caught in your throat as he hit that spot again and again. The feeling was so intense that you could feel yourself climbing towards another orgasm.

With a sudden shift, Spencer rolled over, flipping onto his, and you straddled him, his cock still buried deep inside you. "Fuck, I need to see you ride me," he grunted.

Wasting no time, you immediately got to work, arching your lower back and slamming your ass down against his pelvis. The pleasure had your eyes rolling back in your head. Each downward thrust was met with an upward surge of his hips, filling you completely.

Spencer's fingers dug into your hips, his grip tightening with each bounce, leaving the promise of bruises in his wake. You could feel the pressure building again, his cock stroking your g-spot with an almost punishing precision that had your toes curling.

"That's right, be a good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Ride my cock just like that." The words were a command that had your pussy clenching around him, desperate to please. You picked up the pace, the slap of your ass meeting his thighs growing louder with each passing second.

Spencer's eyes never left yours, his gaze a mix of hunger and admiration. "Look how much you want it," he said, his voice a dark whisper. "Look how much you need me to fill you up, to make you scream." His words were like a drug, sending a rush of pleasure through your body.

"You like me praising you," he murmured, his eyes flicking down to where you were joined. "Calling you a good girl?" His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin gently as his hips began to move again, his cock still buried deep inside you. "I felt the way your cunt started squeezing me," he continued, his voice a low rumble of satisfaction. "Every time I say it, you get wetter, don't you?"

You couldn't help but nod, the truth of his words evident in the way your body was responding. You felt the heat of his palm on your cheek, the gentle pressure of his thumb against your skin grounding you.

With a growl of pure need, Spencer brought your face down to meet his in a passionate kiss that was both possessive and tender. His tongue claimed your mouth, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. You moaned into the kiss, the sensation of his cock inside you making your head spin.

Both his hands grabbed your ass, the firm grip of his fingers digging into your flesh. He used the leverage to slam your hips down onto him, the sound of your bodies colliding filling the room. You could feel the muscles in his arms tensing, the power behind each thrust driving you closer to the edge. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel yourself tightening around him, the beginnings of another orgasm building deep within you.

Spencer's voice was a low growl in your ear, his words a mix of praise and need. "You're so fucking perfect," he murmured, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "I want to fill you up, have you dripping with my seed." The thought of his release inside you had your pussy clenching around him, the walls quivering with the anticipation of his climax.

"Will you let me, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer. The question was loaded, filled with a mix of hope and desire that made your heart race even faster. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, waiting for your permission.

You nodded, the word "yes" barely escaping your mouth before it was swallowed by his kiss. Spencer's hips bucked up into you, the urgency of his movements increasing. He broke the kiss, panting. "I need to feel you come around me," he groaned.

The frantic pace continued, your bodies moving in perfect synchronicity as you raced towards the peak of pleasure. Spencer's grip on your ass was bruising, but you didn't care. You needed this, needed him to make you feel alive in a way you never had before. His cock slammed into your g-spot over and over, causing non-stop pleasure.

Your kiss grew sloppier, tongues tangling and breaths mingling as if you were trying to breathe each other in. The taste of him was intoxicating. You felt the pressure building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to break at any moment.

"Cum for me, sweet girl," Spencer begged, his voice strained with his own need. And as if those words were the key to your release, your body obeyed. You felt the orgasm crash over you, a tidal wave of sensation that had you throwing your head back and screaming his name. Your nails dug into his shoulders, your body spasming on top of him, your pussy clenching around his cock like a vice.

The sight of you, lost in the throes of ecstasy, was too much for Spencer. With a roar, he reached his own climax, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his cum. The feeling was indescribable, a mix of pleasure and relief that had him seeing stars. His hips jerked upwards, his body shuddering with the force of his release, his hands gripping you tightly.

You moaned at the feeling of him cumming in you, the sensation of being filled sending you spiralling over the edge into another orgasm. Your pussy clenched around him, milking every last drop from his cock as he emptied himself inside you. The feeling was primal, a deep-seated satisfaction that resonated through every part of your being.

As the last tremors of pleasure passed, you collapsed boneless against him, both of you trying to catch your breath. Your cheek was pressed against his chest, his heart pounding against your skin. You could feel the stickiness of your juices between your legs, mingling with his seed.

Spencer's hand came up to draw patterns across your spine, the touch gentle and soothing. His fingertips traced the contours of your back, moving in a lazy pattern. You leaned into the caress, the tension in your body slowly beginning to melt away.

For a while, you both lay there, just breathing, the sound of your harsh pants slowly evening out as your heart rates returned to normal. The silence between you was conent, a shared understanding that didn't require any words. You felt the warmth of his body, the steady thump of his heart, and the sticky warmth between your legs.

Spencer was the first to move, cupping your cheek gently and turning your face to look at him. His eyes searched yours, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brought you into a sweet, lingering kiss. When he finally pulled away, the words he whispered were filled with wonder and a hint of disbelief. "I can't believe I finally have you," he murmured, his voice filled with emotion.

The truth of his words hung in the air, the weight of them heavy on your chest. You had both crossed a line, one that could never be uncrossed. But as you stared into his eyes, the warmth of his gaze and the tender way he held you made you feel that this was right. That this was what you both needed.

You felt his cock begin to soften inside you, the pulsing subsiding as your bodies slowly calmed from the intense climax. The feeling was strange, almost bittersweet, as if your body was mourning the loss of his hardness. Gently, he pulled out, his movements careful and deliberate, mindful of your sensitivity. A gush of warmth accompanied his exit, leaving a wetness that was both a reminder of what had just occurred and a promise of what was to come.

Spencer looked down at you, a soft smile playing on his lips as he brushed a stray hair from your face. "Come on," he prompted. "Let's get cleaned up." He offered you a hand, helping you to your unsteady feet. Your legs felt like jelly, weak from the pleasure he had wrung from your body. You took his hand gratefully, allowing him to lead you to the bathroom.

Spencer turned the shower on, the sound of rushing water filling the small space. He stepped in, testing the temperature with his hand before turning back to you with a nod, extending his hand once again. You stepped in, the warm spray cascading over your bodies, washing away the sweat and semen.

He took a washcloth soaking it in the warm water, and gently began to clean you. You watched him, the tender way he moved the cloth across your skin, wiping away the sweat and slick. His eyes were focused on his task, the intensity of the moments before replaced by a softness that made your heart ache.

You leaned into his touch, your body relaxing against his as he took care of you. Each stroke of the washcloth was like a caress, soothing the ache in your muscles and the throb of your pussy. He was thorough, paying special attention to every inch of your skin, as if he was worshipping your body.

Once he was satisfied that you were clean, Spencer quickly cleaned himself and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist before turning his attention back to you. "Let me dry you off," he murmured, his eyes gentle.

You stepped out of the shower, the warmth of the water leaving your skin glistening. Spencer took a towel from the rack, his movements methodical as he began to gently pat you down. Starting at your face, he moved down your neck, taking special care around the sensitive areas.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost reverent, as if he was afraid to break the spell that had been cast between you. You felt his hands on your shoulders, sliding down your arms, and around to your back, his touch feather light as he dried your skin. Each brush of the terrycloth cause goosebumps to break out.

Once Spencer had you thoroughly dried, he wrapped the towel around your body, tucking it in tightly, almost like he was afraid to let you go. He took your hand, leading you to the second bed. The mattress dipped under your weight as you sat down, the softness a welcome relief after the intense moments that had passed.

He took a seat beside you, his eyes searching yours. "I need you to understand something," he began, his voice serious. "What we just did, it's not just about the case or the adrenaline. It's not just about the physical attraction we have."

Spencer took a deep breath, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "I want you, not just your body, but all of you," he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. "I want to know every part of you, every thought, every fear, every dream."

You could see the vulnerability in his eyes, the way his heart was laid bare for you. "This isn't just about scratching an itch," he continued. "It's about connecting on a level that goes beyond anything I've ever experienced." His words were a declaration, a promise of something more substantial than the fleeting moments of passion you've shared.

You took a deep breath, the warmth of the shower still clinging to your skin as you searched for the right words. "Spencer," you began, your voice a whisper. "I feel the same way." The confession felt like a weight lifted off your chest. You had been holding it in for so long, the fear of ruining your friendship and professional relationship had kept you from saying what you truly felt.

His eyes searched yours, the intensity in them making your heart race. "Do you mean it?" he asked, his voice hopeful yet tentative.

"Yes," you whispered, the word a promise that seemed to echo through the quiet hotel room. "I do." Spencer's hand tightened around yours, his smile growing as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It was a kiss that spoke of relief and joy, a silent acknowledgement that he wasn't alone in his feelings.

As the tension between you dissipated, you both got ready for bed, moving with a newfound ease. You slid under the cool sheets of the second bed. Spencer followed, his body fitting against yours as if he had been made for you.

You were so giddy with the intensity of what had just transpired that you weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep. Yet, as you cuddled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart, the comfort of his embrace began to lull you into a peaceful slumber. His arms tightened around you, his warmth seeping into your very bones.

As the night passed, you both slipped into a deep sleep, your bodies entwined like lovers lost in each other’s embrace. The tension of the case and the passion between you had drained you both, leaving nothing but peaceful rest.

[ba9go]

two smart cookies

bakugou katsuki x reader

u.a.!bkg and reader, exam stress and study sessions, bkg comforts reader, soft bkg hours, fluff (sfw)

part 2/3 of the cookie craving collection (completed!)

more cookies for you? part 1 (sfw) 🍪 part 3

you were never the best at academics. sure, you came to your classes on time, paid attention during lessons, took down notes, and did your homework on time.

still, you were never the top of your class, and you didn’t mind it, really. i mean, u.a. was full of brilliant students! you never let your grade or rankings deter your efforts from trying your best.

katsuki, on the other hand, has always been an all-rounder. back in junior high, he berated izuku for being a shitty nerd, but the truth is, katsuki was quite the nerd himself. even now, in u.a., katsuki studies hard to get perfect grades — and he does, every single time. because katsuki deserves it, you think.

you know katsuki like the back of your hand. you know that he wants to do well, to become the number one pro hero, to be the damn best. and anything that katsuki wants, you knew he would get. katsuki has always been relentless like that, unshakeable resolve and unwavering determination. that’s the stubborn katsuki that you knew and loved.

sometimes, you can’t help but wonder if you’re falling behind.

sighing, you close your laptop, burying your face in your hands. you rubbed at your eyes drearily, willing yourself to stay awake just a bit longer. there was a huge test next week, and you wanted to ace it, wanted to be able to show off to katsuki, wanted to make him proud of you for once.

it’s only 1am. classes start at 8 tomorrow. you got this. you gulped a few mouthfuls from your water bottle (katsuki banned you from drinking coffee; “stay off that shit! it makes ya all jittery! s’not healthy for ya, idiot!”). you opened your laptop, and continued studying until you fell asleep at your desk.

you barely managed to stay awake during your 8am class. the bell rings, and it’s time for recess. but instead of leaving to grab lunch, you fold your arms under your head to lay down on your desk. your eyes fluttered close, and you drifted off into sleep…

meanwhile, katsuki’s frowning, waiting for you at the canteen. he looks down at his phone. no new notifications. he scowls. normally, you’d text him when your class overran. his frown deepens when he sees a few of your classmates stream in to queue for their food.

he tries to stay calm and rational. maybe you went to the restroom? maybe you had questions, and stayed back after your lesson? maybe you’re already on your way? but it’s already been almost 10 minutes and— “fuck this shit,” katsuki swears, and starts walking in the direction of your block.

katsuki’s worried. his hands are clammy with sweat, balled up into fists in his pockets. he’s walking briskly down the hallway, stressing about what might’ve happened to you.

he freezes at the doorway of your classroom.

for a moment, he’s angry. katsuki glares at your sleeping frame, then at your messy desk, stacks of paper and sticky notes strewn about, and he’s thinking god, you’re so irresponsible, you’re clearly overworking yourself, the fuck are you even that stressed for—

katsuki walks over, and he’s fuming.

he notices the eyebags under your eyes, notices the sticky note pasted right on the front of your laptop.

katsuki’s pissed off, partially at you, but mostly at himself. how did he not realise?

katsuki taps your shoulder gently. you stir awake, and his heart aches as he watches your tired eyes blink open. he walks to your side and kneels next to you.

“‘suki?” you mumble, raising your head to look at him. “oh god, i’m so sorry, i forgot to��” you words trail off as katsuki places his face in your lap.

“fuck that,” katsuki mumbles.

“huh?”

katsuki’s quiet for a while. he’s so still, until his shoulders start to shake and you feel him trembling against you and you feel wet, hot tears on your legs. you start to apologise, but katsuki speaks again.

“s’not a total victory,” katsuki says, and his voice cracks halfway. “i can’t win…” he finally looks up at you, shaking his head, and it hurts, seeing your katsuki break down in front of you like that. “not when you’re not okay…”

you hold katsuki’s face gently in your hands, thumbs moving to wipe across his tear-streaked cheeks. tears of your own start to cloud your vision. “katsuki, i’m sorry,” you whisper shakily, but katsuki shakes his head again, prying himself away from your hands. he leans forward to bury his face in your tummy. your wrap your arms around his shoulders instead, one hand rubbing soothing circles into his back.

“i can’t,” katsuki hugs your waist tightly. “don’t want to see you suffer like this, i can’t, y/n.” you feel a pang of guilt. “please.”

“i’m sorry, katsuki,” you sobbed. “i.. i just wanted to do good, for you. wanted you t’be proud of me.”

katsuki looks up at you slowly. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“my grades suck—”

“hah? we havin’ the same conversation right now? what the fuck does that gotta do with anythin’?!”

“i’m stupid! and i can’t be your sidekick if i stay stupid!” you whine.

katsuki stands up. he claps your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks between them. he’s frowning, glaring daggers at you.

“what are you,” he asks dryly.

“…an idiot sandwich.”

katsuki sighs, letting go of your face. without warning, he traps you in a loose headlock, his free hand ruffling your hair roughly.

“damn right you are,” katsuki scoffs. “but yer not stupid. ya got that?” he kisses your forehead. “the smartest girl i know. my girl. ya got some nerve, callin’ my girl stupid. ya wanna die?”

as he continues drowning you in his affection berating you, you’re reminded again of just how much katsuki loves you.

“yer already smart. don’t gotta do anythin’ to prove shit to me, or any other fucker. someone been tellin’ ya things, behind my back? what’s gotten into you, hm?”

“no. got myself stressed ‘bout my test next week, s’all,” you admit with a pout.

“next time yer fuckin’ stressed, ya come to me, got it?” katsuki pulls you into a tight hug. “no more of this overworkin’ yourself bullshit. ya need sleep to focus in class, damn it!”

“i knoooow—”

“ya clearly don’t,” katsuki scolds. then, he rests his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes seriously. “take better care of yourself.”

“mm,” you hum.

he kisses your lips. “i’m serious. i need my future sidekick in tiptop condition, ya hear me?” you frown at his words.

“am i really good enough?” the question slips from your lips before you can stop yourself.

katsuki kisses you again. he pulls back with a smile, the one that’s reserved just for you.

“yer the damn best thing that’s ever happened to me,” katsuki says easily, confidently.

you smile.

“thank you, hero.”

dynamy has my whole heart

taglist (thank you for your support!!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @nemisimp @an-na-bella @valeriyaaak @buggie07 @v3n7s

[swordsandholly]

Treat Me Gently (Because No One Else Will)

Ch 2: Johnny, Johnny, Johnny

Next | Masterlist | Ao3

Ghoap x Reader | MDNI 18+ | cw: low self image, oral (male & female receiving), fingering

“Merry Christmas, happy birthday.” You sigh, flopping your routine test results on your kotatsu table. It’s nearly time to get out the heating blanket - your favorite time of year. The leaves have just begun or change. A chill wind batters at your windows right on queue.

Simon sits spread out on your couch, practically covering the damn thing. His own results lay neatly beside yours for you to check. At this point you trust him enough that it’s more a formality than anything, but if you even thought about not looking Simon would put you on sex probation for sure.

He looks more tired than usual, you realize as you take him in. The circles under his eyes are darker than what he normally comes home with - more still-healing scratches and bruises litter his arms than you’re used to seeing.

“Fuckin’ beat.” He mutters, bending to give your papers a cursory glance. He reaches out after, grabbing onto the pocket of your hoodie to pull you into his lap.

“Poor thing.” You coo sympathetically, leaning to nip at his clipped ear. “How about I help with that?”

“’ave somethin’ in mind?” He murmurs - there’s a gravel in his voice that he only ever gets when he is truly exhausted. You slip down off his thigh and pull out one of the sitting cushions from under the table, kneeling on it between Simon’s spread legs. He cocks a brow, pretending not to know exactly what you’re doing despite the fact that you can already see him hardening in his sweatpants.

You run your open hands from his knees to hips, then back down, repeating the motion a few times. The material is soft under your palms. Warm, too, from Simon’s seemingly always extra heated skin. It’s always so lovely during the cool months to have a personal heater - it even comes with a nice cock. You have to stifle your snickering at the thought.

“Y’want somethin’?” Simon tilts his head, resting it on his hand with his elbow braced on the back of your rickety old couch.

You grin, attempting at a coy expression and achieving with absolutely no subtlety. Flirting was never your strong suit - you’re much better at jumping right in. You let your hands wander higher, over his hips, under his shirt to his waist. Coming back down, you hook your fingers in his waistband only to pause, glancing up at him for permission.

Simon nods, eyes alight but still obviously worn out. That’s okay, you don’t mind doing the work today. You take your time, running a hand over him through his pants while nudging at the waistband. Simon huffs in the way that tells you to get on with it. You hook both hands in, timing it with the lift of his hips to pull them halfway down his thighs. Really, you’d rather take them off entirely, but you know Simon’s limits. It’s easier said than done to pretend not to notice the large, ugly bruise on his hip.

You take his hardening length in your hand, giving it a few leisurely pumps. You like it better when he’s like this - pretty, untrimmed curls of blonde framing his equally pretty cock. Not that you’d tell him that. It’s his decision to do as he pleases.

You lick a long stripe from root to tip, earning a shuttering sigh as Simon’s eyes slip closed. You can’t help but hum happily as you take him into your mouth - that familiar, pleasant weight on your tongue. It’s impossible for you to take all of him, your hand working what you can’t fit in your mouth. That familiar mix of his musk and fresh scented soap hits your nose and your own eyes flutter shut as you take him.

Simon’s hand comes to rest on the back of your head. He doesn’t apply pressure, there’s no forcefulness, just a gentle hold. A steadiness that he somehow always manages to embody. His pants and quiet groans fuel you to take him as deep as you can. A low moan passes his lips when you lightly cup his balls, giving them a gentle tug. His hips begin to rock forward to meet your rhythm. Those desperate little sounds he makes pool in your core - each one their own reward.

“G-gonna-fuck-” Simon grunts a broken warning.

You take him as deep as possible as he cums down your throat. The hand on your head holds you in place as he works through it, hips twitching and brows furrowed. You lap at the tip, cleaning off the last beads of cum until he sucks in a harsh breath - the signal that it’s crossed into too much. Simon lazily pulls his bottoms back up. His shoulders relax finally, melting fully into the couch with his head still propped on his hand. You have a feeling that’s the only reason it’s still upright.

“Come up ‘ere.” He sighs, lids heavy and words slurred. The hand on your head relaxes, mimicking a lazy, petting motion over your hair.

You shake your head. “I’m fine.”

He frowns slightly. “Don’t want me t’return the favor?”

“I just wanted to welcome you back with something nice.” You smile. “Plus, you’re tired.”

“Who says I’m tired?”

“You. Literally, like, a few minutes ago.” You scoff, leaning your cheek on his thigh. Really, you’re perfectly content here - tracing light circles on his thigh and basking in the physical touch you’d been missing. Warm and comfortable. Your eyes slip shut, the hand stroking your hair eventually goes limp and falls to the wayside. A smile splits your lips at Simon’s light snoring.

He’s so predictable.

You grab your laptop, busying yourself with quietly typing and checking off a few emails while Simon snores away. He might have a little crick in his neck based on the way his head leans forward but you figure it’s better than waking him. You won’t be able to convince him to sleep twice. He’s probably slept in worse positions anyway.

There’s something that feels oddly right about moments like these - you, working at your little table between Simon’s legs while he naps on the couch. It’s where you’re supposed to be. Not always, both of you can come and go, and not necessarily directly touching, but within each others orbit. There’s something about knowing he’s there, even if you can’t see or feel him that makes you warm. Like a nice cup of tea during a heavy storm.

It’s safe here. It’s safe with Simon.

***

The groceries in your arms teeter, the buy one get one bottles of wine clink against each other in your reusable shopping back as you fight with your old deadbolt lock. You really should get your landlord to replace it, but he never answers his damn phone. At least he keeps the rent cheap in exchange for the shitty building quirks.

You check your voice mail - the physical one that you keep on hand only for Official Business - pressing the button on the answering machine as you begin putting away and organizing your groceries for the next couple weeks. You grabbed Simon some of those weird, rarely in stock, off-brand bon bons he loves. He says they have a better texture than the name brand. They just make your teeth hurt they’re so sweet. The voicemails filter through, nothing. Your agent wants to check up on your progress. Your water bill is due. You get a reminder for your appointment at the nail salon.

Your heart sinks when that honey-sweet voice of your lawyer drips through the phone.

“Hey, hun, so… unfortunately I have bad news.” Your blood curdles, back stiffening as you freeze in place. “It looks like we’re not gonna get the easy way out. Matthias officially contested - we’re going to have to go to court-“

You don’t catch the rest of her voicemail. It blurs into the background. Your ears ring, louder, louder, louder, louder.

Your hands shake around the bag of food still in them. If it weren’t already propped on the counter it would have fallen to the floor. It feels far away, as if there are miles between the things in front of you and yourself.

Your breath catches. It stings - every inhale and exhale more labored and shallow than the last. You’re choking on nothing. You can’t get any air - your vision turning to pinpricks. One hand braces you on the counter, the other resting on your throat as you lean, knees weak. You can’t see him. You can’t. The image of his face, dressed in one of his name brand suits, and his family glaring at you from the other side of the courtroom behind him twists in your mind. Hell beg you. He’ll beg and plead and promise things that won’t fix it - won’t fix you.

You’re hot, you’re suffocating. Each breath wheezes in and out.

In.

They hate you.

Out.

They have every right to hate you.

In.

You can’t see him.

In.

Them. Anyone. You can’t-

Please just breathe in!

Your phone dings - Simon’s assigned two toned chime.

S >> Dinner?

S >> I’ve got steak

The ringing in your ears clears to a low thrum. You take a long, deep breath finally. The numb tingling in your hands slowly dissipates. The shaking doesn’t. It takes far too long for you to get the texts written out.

>> I'll bring wine

You run your fingers through your hair, attempting to fix what doesn’t need fixing. You look the same as always, if not a little more hollow. It only feels like it needs to be fixed. You feel frazzled - thread bare. Too exposed and raw, standing out in the hallway that seems far too long in both directions.

Simon will fix it.

If he notices you’re more quiet than usual, he doesn’t say. He’s probably happy for the silence, if anything. Your chattering voice can’t be that pleasant - going on and on about absolutely nothing. Teasing and picking for no reason other than your own entertainment. How the hell does he put up with you?

The food helps. It fills you, makes you whole. The weight of it makes this moment real as you help Simon clean up. As usual, he washes and you dry. He laughs at some offhand joke you make - splashes you with water from the sink and you can’t help but shriek and laugh along with him. The wine makes your muscles lax and your mind slow. It’s good. This is good. This is fixing it. For now, at least.

That’s all you need: for now.

“How was Mexico?” You ask, sinking into your side of the couch. “Didn’t get to ask earlier…”

Simon sighs heavily. “Absolute shite… mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“’ad a good battle buddy.” He hums, staring out the window for a few beats, as if he forgot you were there. Those dark eyes soften as a gentle smile graces his lips - warm and molten.

You break out in an impish grin. “What’s that face?”

“What face?” Simon turns to meet your eye, returning to his usual stony neutrality.

You squint, eyes flicking between his, grin only growing wider. “Oh, you totally fucked.”

Simon splutters, stuttering over denials and dismissals - because that’s preposterous and completely out of character - before he finally submits. It never takes long, just an unending stare until he gets around to it. It’s not like you have room to judge.

You push your socked feet into the side of his thigh. “Sooooo, what’s their name?”

He looks off to the side, pretending to eye his wine glass. “Soap.”

You bark out a laugh, slapping your hand over your lips to stifle the sound. “Don’t tell me that’s their real name.”

“It’s Joh- I call him Johnny.” Simon twiddles his thumbs, shifting slightly. He’s mentioned a Johnny before, you think, albeit briefly. Said he was annoying but competent. There’s a new gleam in his eye, now. You see it. You’re not even sure if he knows yet, but you do. You’ve seen it time and time again.

You hum and swing a leg over his lap, settling your weight on his thighs. His hair is soft as you run your fingers over it - freshly buzzed and fuzzy.

“Tell me about your Johnny.”

“He’s not my Johnny.” Simon huffs.

You smile. He will be. There’s no one on this planet that can resist those big brown eyes and their pretty blonde lashes - even if nothing comes of it long term.

“Still. I’m curious.”

“‘e’s Scottish.” Simon shrugs. “‘e draws.”

“That’s all?”

“‘e’s funny.”

“With your sense of humor, I find that questionable.”

Simon chuckles, broad shoulders shaking slightly. He pulls gently on a piece of your hair, toying with it. “‘e ‘as pretty eyes…”

You cock your head like a bird observing some newly discovered, shiny treasure. This stage always interests you. The yearning, the fluttering. The crush of it all, so to speak. Sometimes you wish you had a way to quantify it - like a heart monitor or blood work or something. It looks good on Simon; the light flush of his cheeks and the slight quirk of his lips.

Matthias used to look at you like that. Your gut churns, throat constricting, and you swallow roughly.

“Good for you, Si.” You murmur.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t be talkin’ about work so much. Makin’ me neglect the beautiful woman in my lap.”

“Beautiful?” You laugh, cheeks hot as you roll your eyes dramatically.

“Fit?”

“Meh.”

“Sexy?”

“Blah.”

“Stunnin’?”

You lightly smack his shoulder. “Shut up and fuck me, Riley.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grins. A strong arm wraps around your waist, kneading at your ass before drifting lower, pressing against your sex through your leggings and underwear.

The name Johnny rings in your mind as Simon’s arms envelop you. When did it happen? Where? Their living quarters? Out in some godforsaken tent in the middle of nowhere? That sounds more like Simon. All tense and wound up, heavy hands and low groans. It’s probably wrong to imagine a stranger like that. You wonder what he looks like. Could be anything, Simon isn’t exactly picky (he’s with you, after all). Does Johnny know how Simon feels? Does he feel the same? How would he know? You’ve never been sure how people figure that out. You’ve always just waited to be told and gone along with it - is that how it works for everyone? Surely not. That can’t be how it works for Simon. He’d never just go along - never let someone else just roll with it either. He demands enthusiasm, in his own way.

“Y’with me?” Simon rumbles in your ear. You hadn’t realized his hand stopped moving.

“O-oh, yeah. Just got a little lost in my head.” You murmur.

He hums. “Everythin’ okay?”

“Yeah, just… y’know how I get.”

“You’ve been spacey t’night.” So he did notice. Simon presses his cheek to yours. “Somethin’ goin’ on?”

You chew your lip. You’re a terrible liar - you can’t say no outright. You don’t need to dump on Simon, though. Your problems are minuscule compared to even his day to day ones. An inconvenience at most. Besides, that’s not what he has you here for. He’s not here to listen.

Instead you repeat, quieter but with a smile, “Just fuck me. Please.”

Simon moves slower now, as if you somehow became more fragile in a few mere seconds. He lays you back on the couch, kissing down your body while pushing your shirt up and out of the way. You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your mind to stay in the moment. You’re in Simon’s apartment, on his couch, with his grounding weight above you. It’s the usual song and dance - gentle movements with breaks for permission. Sometimes you think the checks are more for him; for his own piece of mind in continuing. You still revel in the care behind them.

Simon eats pussy like he’s tasting some sort of delicacy - slow, deliberate, savoring. Long strokes of his tongue between your folds and light, sucking kisses on your clit. He wraps a strong arm around your thigh to hold you still as you begin to squirm, rolling your hips in search of more. Your body thrums with gentle warmth from the wine, letting you lay loose and easy for him to take as he pleases.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, back arching as his tongue pushes inside. You’re close already - emotions running high and pushing your desperation. If you can just cum - just reach that high and get it out of your system - it’ll all be okay.

Your hand grazes over Simon’s shorn hair as he circles your entrance with his fingers - coating them in your slick before slowly, slowly, slowly inching them inside. You whine in complaint, grinding down onto them and the tongue on your clit to get him moving - to get what you want.

“Please, Simon-“ You whine. He takes the hint, speeding up his movements to match your desperation.

“C’mon, pretty girl, cum on my tongue.” Simon groans against you, voice low. “Let me taste you.”

You let yourself fall into it. It’s easy to listen with that deep accent lilting in your ears - oozing honey down your spine. It’s easy to follow instructions blindly. Simon works you through it, murmuring little praises and sweet nothings between pressing sucking kisses to your clit. He only stops when you press your palm against his forehead, whining in protest as the stimulation moves onto just that side of too much.

Simon grabs a condom from one of his many little stashes as you come down and hands it to you, as per usual. You flip it in your hands with half lidded eyes while he strips, not bothering with making any sort of show and just letting it all fall into a pile on the rug beside the couch. Not that you’re complaining. You wince internally at the litany of bruises and marks covering him. New scars forming and deep marks of blue, black and yellow.

He slides the condom on with ease, practiced hands making the usually fumbling task quick. He reaches over you to grab one of the throw pillows propped on the couch armrest and taps your hips for you to lift them.

“Ready f’me?” Simon asks, leaning forward to nip at your soft jawline.

“Yeah.” You gasp, turning your head to meet his lips as he presses inside. They’re slightly chapped from his time away.

“Fuckin’ soaked.” He groans into your mouth. “Always take me so well, yeah?”

You nod, breath catching in your throat as Simon grinds his hips against yours. The angle with the pillow presses him against that sensitive spot inside you with every movement. He keeps it slow - intimate - allowing you to feel all of him with each thrust.

Those dark eyes meet yours, pupils blown wide. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close - careful not to irritate any of his wounds. Simon tucks you against him, one arm around your upper back and the other hand holding the back of your head as he curls you into him. Your legs lock around his waist as you breathe him in - your moans mixing and bodies melding. This is what you needed. To be consumed, to disappear into the purely physical. Your mind doesn’t need to be active, on edge, as you roll your hips to meet his, as you press your fingers into his strong back and gasp when you cum. You only need to feel Simon’s teeth sink into your shoulder, just enough to muffle his own climax.

It’s safe here.

You both sink into the couch, breaths slowing and lids heavy as you come back to reality. The music that had been formerly drowned out comes back into focus. You shiver at the sudden chill of the room when your bodies part, fumbling for one of the random blankets strewn across his various furniture. Simon doesn’t say anything when you drape it across the both of you and lean your head on his shoulder.

You glance out of the corner of your eye as Simon’s phone vibrates on the coffee table. He has messages locked, but you see three consecutive notifications from “Johnny.” You smile and let your eyes slip shut as Simon’s arm wraps around your shoulders to pull you close.

banner by @the-aesthetics-shop

[starboye]

starring: alexander "konig" kilgore x male reader

request: just thinking about innocent naive reader getting corrupted and not even noticing a single thing because he just want to be a good friend. . .

warnings: smut + angst, yander!konig, kinda obsessive, handjob

konig was such a good friend to you, he would never do anything to hurt such a pretty thing like you and plus you were both best friends so nothing was ever kept a secret between you two, so imagine konigs' face when you announce you have a date with some guy.

watching his face crack into a soft smile and telling you how happy he is for you but behind those eyes he was mad as hell, i mean who does this new guy think he is to try and take you from him, and it gets even worse when you come back from the date the next night and tell konig about how you loved it so much with the biggest smile on your face.

as much as he wants to feel happy for you he just cant imagine anyone else stealing him from you so he makes up a lie "i don't know about him y/n" he blankly making you question him "what do you mean" you ask him "i just have a weird feeling about him" he continues looking at you with the most beautiful eyes "well what if you just get to know him" you try to give an idea but konig pipes up with "you know my gut feeling is usually always right"

and he was kinda right i mean there was that one time you had feeling for this one guy and it turned out he was actually arrested for murder, or at least that's what konig told you (he pulled some strings at the police station and got what he wanted) "well then yeah i guess i can stop seeing him" you say and within seconds konigs arms are wrapped around you and he's thanking you for trusting him.

and queue the constant run of you finding a good guy and konig coercing you to stop seeing them because he has a 'gut feeling' and you trust him, but really he just wants you all to himself, making you depend on him more and more as time goes on by telling you if you ever need help with anything to call him and you do, calling him for even the littlest inconvenience.

whether that be helping you fix something or letting you cry on his shoulder when you get layed of from your job (after he pulled a few more strings and made it seem like you were a bad employee) and offering you a room at his place since you were short on money and couldn't pay your bills.

with you moved in now he can be so much closer to you, sneaking through your things at any chance he could and whats this it seems like you need some new clothes since all yours seem to be gone (he used all of them to jerk off and now they're ruined with his cum) so he takes you to the mall, carrying all your bags as you go to every store getting all the things you want, but hm it seems you need some help trying on those pants why doesn't he help you.

"you sure you're okay with that" you ask him "yeah it's what friends are for" he says helping you but on the jeans that hugged your ass so well, it was no surprise he got a boner, it straining so hard in his pants he just needed some release "fuck baby i need your help" he groans "what's wrong konig" you asked and he moved your hand to the aching bulge in his sweatpants "please just this once" he pleaded and after some consideration you agreed, i mean it was just a one time thing between two friends right.

pulling his pants down his thick cock flops out and you immediately work on fixing it for him, his grip tightening on the top of the dressing room door, your hand rubbing back and forth on his achingly hard boner, this was like his dream, he had thought about this exact thing so much, jerked off to the thought and feel of it but the real things is so much better than he hand.

"fucking shit y/n" he muttered before cumming on your hand, thick load messing up your hand as he let out shuddering breaths, and after that it became a regular thing, konig being all needy and asking you to come help him get off since you did it best (in reality you weren't the best at it but don't worry he'll train you soon enough).

and time after time it seemed you liked it more and more to the enjoyment of konig, maybe just a few more times and you'll tell him how you've had feeling for him to right?

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[leeechin]

Jake hard thought...

Well I live for munch Jake who eats you out for his own pleasure, he would spend hours buried between your legs if he could, would love to feel your thights shaking around his head while he overstimulate you and he is so messy and sloppy such a dirty boy would spit in your pussy then dive right in 🤤

𑊝 ꒰ິᵕ˶ᵕ꒱ິᦑ smut under the cut (mdni) hard thought

sorry this is REALLY ass </3 i'm getting back into the hang of writing, i'm working on my long hee fic + other reqs 🍒

★ masterlist | post queue | navigation

jake screams a living munch.

he loves to text you pictures with his tongue out, and then you reply to his text jokingly asking 'what does that tongue do😛' — next thing you know he's unlocking the door to your apartment, kneeling right infront of your figure that's seated on the couch, a playful smirk plastered on his face. and that's when you know you're in for it.

jake spends hours and hours, on his knees, devouring your pussy like it's his last meal. tongue lapping messily all over your lower half, and he adds even more stimulation by stuffing two fingers, maybe up to four into your sopping cunt.

and you're just a crying, sobbing, mess. your hand's tugging at his thick strands of hair carelessly and jake groans against you, making your body shake in ecstasy. he finds pleasure in the pain you give you.

"mm jake gon' cum again—!" you whine, thighs closing around his head as he groans at the feeling of your hole clenching around his tongue that was darting in and out of your pussy. "shiiit—such a good fucking pussy." he grumbles in response, sloppy sounds of his mouth on you filling the room, the show you were playing on the tv long forgotten, with the remote control being thrown somewhere in the living room. even when you finish around his tongue for the nth time..

jake ends up switching positions, laying himself back on the couch, hands pulling at your ass for your bottom half to hover above his face, you know he wants you to ride his face. his nose bumps against your clit as you messily grind your hips back and forth, soft shrieks filling the room as your acrylics dig into his head as you chase another orgasm. this time, squirting all over his face.

when you pull yourself off and jake seats himself back, you notice the very evident bulge in his pants, you can't expect to get things without a present in return right—?

"fuck you're so hard jake."

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: poly!Markle x gn!Reader

| info: 18+ MDNI. Wholesome 'til the halfway point. threesome. MLM behavior. Cum eating. Penetrative sex. Oral.

| aurora's note: tds3 changed me as a person....

| poly!markle who are the silly boyfriends who can never take anything serious.

| poly!markle who think it's hilarious when they surprise you with matching ugly pajamas for your anniversary.

| mark who gets cuteness aggression when he sees you and chenle wearing the pajamas, laughing about how stupid you all look-- he can't help but pat down the floof of hair sticking up at the back of chenle's head, and he feels like he has to tackle you onto the bed while burying is face in the crook of your neck.

| poly!markle who lay on either side of you in bed, sending your group chat TikTok memes while giggling to themselves, instead of just showing their screens or talking.

| chenle who rolls over and swings a leg over you while putting his foot on mark's legs-- mark ends up scrolling with one hand and mindlessly plays with chenle's foot with the other.

| chenle who gets all giggly because mark's tickling him. his contagious laugh makes you laugh until your stomach hurts.

| poly!markle who gets a burst of energy at 1am and decides it's the perfect time to start a dance party in the bedroom, in their matching pajamas, while you're half asleep in bed.

| mark who pulls you out of bed and makes you dance with them.

| chenle who plays the silly meme music while mark queues up the music he can actually sing to.

| poly!markle who end up forgetting about the queue, and when a slower song comes on, they sneak up on you, trapping you between their bodies. mark's in front of you, hands wandering around your sides. chenle's behind you, his hands sneaking under the waistband of your pajama pants so that he can get you off while you're moaning into mark's mouth and begging them for more.

| poly!markle who can't even take their silly dance night serious, so they end up taking turns fucking you while laughing at the meme songs that randomly play in chenle's playlist.

| chenle who bends you over so your ass is up in the air while he rails you from behind and you suck off mark.

| mark who lays you on your back and lifts one of your legs high into the air, his hand pressed on the back of your thigh, while he fucks you deep and slow, kissing your ankle, whispering that he loves you so much.

| poly!markle who cum on each other and watch as you lick it up.

| poly!markle who fuck you 'til you're tired, but they're still wired with energy, so they turn to each other for a bit.

| poly!markle who somehow still have all the energy in the world after they're spent, so they leave you to rest in the bedroom while they go interact with fans on instagram in another room.

| poly!markle who wakes you up in the morning with kisses all over your body-- mark's content when you groan and start pulling on his hair, sleepily begging him to get you off with his mouth, and chenle watches with a grin.

| poly!markle who never fail to keep you occupied with their energy, entertained by their antics, and fucked-out from their incredible stamina.