#now was this before or after you changed out of your clothes?

[hanasnx]

PANTY-STEALING, PART TWO — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: part one. WARNINGS: fem reader ノ what it says on the tin, panty stealing ノ voyeurism ノ inappropriate thoughts about reader ノ sexual content.

It’s been several days since CLARK KENT’s stunt in his bedroom, narrowly escaping your discovery of him finding and pocketing your used panties. He’s been beating himself up over it ever since, his guilt distracting him from devising a sound plan to replace them naturally. You’d already asked if he’d seen any of your “missing clothes” avoiding mentioning your undergarments directly, but he could tell what you were hinting at. Coolly he had shrugged knowing your dirty panties sat in the top drawer of the nightstand in the loft of his barn.

He nearly punched a hole through his forehead with the impact his fist when he realized he should’ve just washed it with the rest of his laundry, playing it off like he simply didn’t know it was in his hamper. It’s past the point of no return, if he did it now after you questioning him it would look suspicious! His thoughts run away with him.

Lying awake for yet another night about it, he swallows hard staring up at the ceiling. Cramped on this little couch, he’d taken it as a courtesy and you’ve been sleeping in his room. You’ve been sleeping in his… bed. Memories of that little silk robe you wore invade his otherwise purer mind: the glimpse of your ass under the impossibly short hem, how perky your tits were cold and fresh from the shower, how you must’ve been wearing nothing under it—

Clark digs the heels of his hand into his eyes to symbolically avert them, growling softly in frustration. The crest of his watch digs into the tendon on the top of his hand, and he throws his arms down at his sides, a little squished because of his width compared to the sofa.

He wonders if you’re wearing anything in his bed. You’re a type hard to pin down, somewhat unpredictable in what you say versus what you do. If you’re in his bed, you might say you’re in pajamas, but you’re hiding the fact you’re naked in a guy’s bed you aren’t dating. He’s seen the room since you’ve taken it over—you didn’t even change the sheets. It smells like him, he’s sure, and he hopes it’s a good thing. His fingers twiddle with the stringy crochet of the blanket over his stomach at the thought that you might like the way he smells. You might’ve kept the bedding because you think he smells nice. You might rub your nose into his pillow and take a deep breath while your bare body shimmies against his sheets. That perfect silhouette imprinting into his mattress is enough to twitch his dick. It’s the kind filling out like it’s looking for something: standing in the direction of the nearest hole.

His palms fly to cup it comfortingly, trying his best to sooth its ache while he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to ponder anything else—anything that’s not completely objectifying to a house guest. The confines of his grip only anger it, spiting him by pridefully hardening to a painful degree that makes him grit his teeth. The kind of feeling that drives him to trudge out to his barn in the dead of night and open that nightstand drawer just for a peek—just for a touch—just for a—

The next day he avoids you like the plague. If you loftily call his name, “Cla-a-r-rk!” singing it like a song, he has to ignore the melody to make himself scarce. The last thing he needs is to be caught in a close space with you and give himself away. As soon as he even hears you come around, his entire body erupts into some kind of bizarre full-figure blush, heart leaping out of his chest to spring into action.

He can’t look you in the eyes when the night before his cum joined yours, staining the delicate part of your panties—since dried. Having wrapped his big hand around it, and jacked off until his balls didn’t hurt anymore, he couldn’t even look himself in the eye. There’s no way he can return them to you, but he can’t seem to get rid of them either. The fragile fabric crumpled up and back in that drawer.

[notjustjavierpena]

Parents

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Merry belated Christmas from me! I know this is my second Christmas fic this time around but I finally got the courage to write about Wife’s awful parents. 

Summary: Javier puts his foot down during Christmas with your toxic family. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Toxic family dynamics, psychological abuse, childhood trauma, Christmas, conflict and confrontation, sobbing, declarations of love, hurt/comfort, body/fat shaming

Word count: 5.7k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61942318

Parents

You get a call from your parents’ home number a few weeks before Christmas. Your mother and father haven't actually bothered seeing you since your wedding day last year but Lucas is four months old now and there’s suddenly a strange interest from them in being grandparents to your firstborn. Somehow, they talk you into spending Christmas with them and reassure you that they’ll take care of everything as long as you bring their grandson. The whole idea causes a ball of anxiety to settle in your stomach, almost imitating getting hit right in the solar plexus with how much your breath struggles to even out as you tell Javier about it. Your husband agrees reluctantly but not without raising a concerned brow, asking you several times - and with days between each time - if you are absolutely sure. 

He even asks you now as he parks the car in your parents’ driveway, looking at you with a serious expression, brows furrowed while you sit stiffly in the passenger seat. You glance towards the front door, trying to act casual as if you’re staring at a wild animal who might pounce if it notices your anxiety. It is an odd feeling you get, staring at your childhood home but feeling more as if it is the scene of a crime. This house is not a memory of warm and fuzzy feelings but rather a place of constant criticism and unjust pain. 

Javier says your name softly beside you. On the backseat, Lucas hiccups.

“Do I look okay?” You quickly ask instead of acknowledging the tone of his voice, fixing your hair without changing anything. 

“Yeah,” he answers and tries not to comment on your nerves, “You look beautiful, mi amor (my love).”

The call from two weeks ago had your shoulders tensing up before you even answered the phone but the way they had reasoned you into revisiting the place of your hardest years has made your shoulders not come down again. 

You sigh gently and unbuckle your seatbelt, “Okay. I can do this for just an afternoon. Let’s get this over with.”

You climb out of the car, Javier following you after carefully unbuckling Lucas and cradling him in one arm while balancing the diaper bag on the other shoulder. You leave his car seat, knowing how much easier it would have been to transport your son inside in it but Lucas has been fussy all night. You really wish he hadn’t because you don’t want to go inside with only half the energy that a good night’s sleep could have provided. 

As you ring the doorbell, you take a look at Javier one last time, “Please don’t interfere. I don’t want to make everyone uncomfortable.”

“Baby, are you sure that—“

“Oh, there you are!” Your mother exclaims when she opens the door with a syrupy smile, “We were starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost.”

“Sorry. Life with a baby and all,” you shake your head with an embarrassed chuckle and try to ignore the tension in your muscles, shrugging your coat off your shoulders to reveal your wine-red button-up and dark skirt. 

“Honey, I thought you knew we always dress up a little during the Holidays,” your mother says while glancing at your outfit with veiled disdain, “Where’s that nice blue dress? With the ribbons?”

“This is all that fits me right now, that isn’t maternity clothes,” you answer apologetically at the first jab of many. Beside you, Javier takes a step closer to you without saying anything. 

“Anyway! Where’s the little man?” Your mother chirps, already having moved on and looking to Lucas who has started stirring in Javier’s arms. When she gets closer, about to reach out to run a hand over his little head, Lucas immediately starts whimpering as if he is aware of the unpleasantries that his mother has had to endure at the mercy of this woman. He knows the culprits before they’ve even revealed themselves. 

“Oh, he’s a little fussy, isn’t he?” She laughs it off and retreats much to your relief, letting Javier bounce your son to make him settle down again. When he quietens down again, you share a glance with your husband who signals that everything is okay. You take a deep breath and let him handle the situation. 

“Where’s Dad?” You ask to turn your attention away from your crying child, smoothing out a nonexistent crease in your skirt. 

“I think he’s just about to get the turkey out of the oven,” your mother says, wagging a finger in Lucas’ face with a little smile, “Why don’t you go say hi and I talk to my grandson for a moment? Oh, look at you, Lucas! You’re just perfect, aren’t you?”

You reluctantly leave the three of them to head for the kitchen. You can feel each family photograph staring back at you as you walk through the hallway to your destination; a picture of your five-year-old self on a bike but somehow no picture of your graduation ceremony as if it has been decided where things went wrong before you could acknowledge it yourself. 

“Hey Dad, smells so good in here,” the kitchen does indeed smell wonderfully as you walk through the door. Your father looks at you over his shoulder, giving you a little smile and you try not to think about how he didn’t bother to come out to greet you. 

“Mom and I were wondering if you were ever coming,” he notes while plating pieces of turkey meat. In the hallway, you can hear Javier striking up polite conversation. He’s handling your mother with his usual calmness, and you feel grateful for his presence yet embarrassed that you aren’t strong enough to handle it yourself.

You shrug a little, Javier’s presence giving you the courage to try and mirror said calmness, “Newborns, you know.”

“He’s four months,” he corrects. 

“Right, time flies,” you reply with your confidence fading fast, the words coming out in a way that doesn’t quite carry the quick wit that Javier usually loves about you. You touch your arm, standing awkwardly by the counter, “Still figuring it out as we go.”

Your father doesn’t turn around, “Parenting’s not rocket science, you know. Your mother and I managed just fine without all the made-up nonsense you young people talk about these days.”

You jump a little as your mother puts a hand on your shoulder and says your name to get your attention. You look back at her, “Can you set the table? I put the tablecloth ready on the silverware cabinet.”

“Sure, Mom,” you smile, already heading for the dining room to escape from your father’s subtle judgments. You find Javier has already gone, an irrational thought popping into your head of how he has bolted and left you to deal with your mom and dad by yourself. 

You glance into the kitchen as you start placing the plates in each of their respective places, “Where’s Javier?”

“He went to get the presents from the car,” your mother replies from the kitchen. You hear her take out a serving bowl from a cabinet. 

“Oh, I should go help him wi—“ 

“He’s your husband, sweetie. Let him handle it. There’s no need to emasculate him like that,” she is suddenly in the doorway, staring you down in a way that makes your hands shake. Her gaze drops to the table and her brows furrow, “You’re using the wrong plates!”

You look up with a racing heartbeat, “What?”

She sighs your name audibly, “These aren’t the Christmas plates. We don’t use regular plates for special occasions. Honestly, I thought you’d know better.”

The words sting and you set down the plates you have been holding in case the littlest twitch will make you drop it onto the floor, “Sorry, Mom.” 

“Ah well, now you’ll never forget it,” she jokes without humor in her voice as she opens the door to the china cabinet, pulling out the plates adorned with what you recognize to be hand-painted holly. You shamefully realize you know them from childhood Christmases and that they are exactly where they’ve always been. 

Automatically, you gather the wrong plates to make room for the right ones. It’s Christmas, you remind yourself as you do it. It is one day. You can survive one day. 

“See? Isn’t this much better?” She says cheerfully when your mistake has been corrected and while you nod, Javier reenters the house. 

He joins the two of you, carrying a large gift bag in one hand and holding Lucas on the other arm. You immediately go to take him, doing a careful transfer until you can lay his tiny body against your shoulder while supporting his bottom. 

“¿Todo bien? (Everything okay?)” Javier asks quietly when you follow him into the living room where the tree stands. He sets down the bag and tries to act casual, laying out the gifts and waiting for your honest response in the meantime. Apparently, you haven’t been as successful in hiding the distress on your face as you thought you had. 

You force a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes and Lucas starts whining again. You bounce him gently, “It’s nothing. Just… Christmas stuff.”

Javier glances toward the hallway to the kitchen where your parents’ voices can be heard faintly over the sounds of cooking. His jaw tightens slightly and his mouth becomes a thin line. 

“Don’t,” you say as firmly as you can muster because you wish he would, “It’ll only make it worse.”

“Dame un beso (give me a kiss),” he says instead, and you shyly lean in to peck him on the lips. Afterward, he pulls back but only after stroking Lucas’ back, “You’re both doing great, okay? Don’t let them get in your head.”

You are interrupted by your mother’s voice ringing out from the dining room, telling you that dinner is ready. Javier kisses you one last time before reassuring you that everything will be okay and that he is in your corner. You try to smile, tense as you take a seat with Lucas still in your arms. 

The Christmas meal begins with polite conversation, your father asking Javier about work and your mother telling you about neighbors that you haven’t spoken to in years. You mostly just speak when spoken to, having decided to focus on your baby as he keeps wriggling in your arms in discomfort. You try to rub his belly, try to make him settle by giving him your attention but still, his tiny face crumbles and he lets out a string of small complaints. 

“Maybe we could open presents while he naps?” You suggest hesitantly when your mother has given you enough judgemental advice, “He’s been so fussy all night, and I don’t want him to get more overwhelmed than he—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” your mother says your name with a sigh. You hear Javier’s chair scrape against the floor, almost as if he is about to get up and get ready for a physical altercation.

“Let’s do whatever is easiest for the baby,” your father interrupts, placing a hand on your mother’s wrist. Her annoyance shines through her eyes but she nods with a smile nonetheless. 

“Of course,” you hear her grit out, “It’s just… We’d love to spend time with him. We’ve already missed so much, and Luke needs his grandparents.”

“We’ll see,” Javier answers for you. 

The dinner continues in mostly silence with turkey being substituted by pie, cutlery clinking against plates, and glasses being lifted and set down again. There’s tension so thick that it can be cut with a knife, your mother glancing at Lucas with a smile before it disappears from her face when she shifts her gaze to your direction.  

Mercilessly, she finally speaks, “So, honey, have you thought about when you’ll start losing the baby weight?”

“Mom!” You exclaim in shock, surprised that sound comes out when your throat feels like it is about to close up completely.

In the same manner as one would spit out a drink in shock, Javier’s fork scrapes unpleasantly against his plate, and suddenly, your mother’s name falls from his lips like the sound itself leaves him with a bad taste in his mouth. She looks startled by the interruption, almost like a deer in the headlights of a car, but it doesn’t faze your husband, “My wife looks beautiful and she has just given me - us - the greatest gift which is our son. Let’s not diminish that, shall we?”

You try to feel the weight of Lucas against your chest instead of how you don’t feel safe within this house, with its bruises on the walls and its ghosts of a youth spent walking on eggshells. Lucas’ body is warm, a reminder that this doesn’t matter. He matters. 

“I’m focused on taking care of my son right now, Mom,” you reply coolly with your lips resting on the soft hairs on Lucas’ head. 

“Right, of course. I didn’t mean anything by it,” your mother argues, clearly flustered, “You know how important it is to stay healthy for the baby.”

“Your mother just wants what’s best for you, honey,” your father intervenes, trying to steer the conversation onto friendlier and safer topics but she has already gotten up from her seat. 

“Why don’t I clear the table so we can move into the living room and open presents?” She mumbles, putting on a show by letting her voice waver. She has begun stacking plates before anyone can even say anything, practically fleeing the room and leaving you all looking slightly sheepish. Javier hides the roll of his eyes exceptionally well and he smiles when you catch him.

“I’ll put Lucas down for a nap,” you announce to what is left of the party.

Javier gets up alongside you to help you. He walks upstairs right behind you, a calming presence with the diaper bag in hand as you head for the guest room.

When you close the door behind the three of you, the tension seeps out of your body at having a quiet moment with your boys. The lighting in the room is soft and calming, almost making you want to lie down to nap with your son. 

“There we go,” you say as you gently place Lucas on the bed while Javier rummages through the bag for his pacifier. Lucas blinks up at you, his tiny fists balled and his chubby legs kicking excitedly. He lets out a happy gurgle.

“Oh, now you’re happy,” you tease softly and kneel by the bed to rub his tummy, “Picky with who we’re smiling at, are we?” 

Javier joins you by the bed and offers Lucas his pacifier. Your son stretches his arms and reaches for his father, letting out a high-pitched giggle around the pacifier. However, as he suckles gently, accompanied by your soft touch that has now moved to his chubby cheeks too, his eyelids start to grow heavy. 

When his breaths have slowed, you do whatever you can with the pillows to create a safe space for him to sleep. You create a barrier around him, ensuring as well as possible that he won’t roll over. 

“You know, you’d think that they would have set up a crib for him if they’re so desperate to see him,” you murmur bitterly as you adjust the last pillow.

“You sure you want to go back down there?” Javier asks carefully. 

“Can you grab the baby monitor?” You ignore his question at first but Javier is already handing you the monitor, ruining your attempt at not addressing the situation further. You sigh and get up from the floor, “I can get through it. If it’ll make them stop pestering me for a visit for a while.”

“I swear, one more word out of her mouth and I’ll open my own,” Javier says with anger simmering just beneath the surface. He drags you into his arms when you stand up again, hears your sigh of relief at being squeezed. It calms your nervous system so effectively that you slump. 

“Believe me, I feel like I am going insane,” you whisper into his neck and shoulder, grabbing aimlessly at his strong frame and inhaling his scent. He returns the desperate touch by simply rubbing your back in slow circles. 

“Yeah, I don’t know how you stay so calm,” he kisses your temple a few times. 

“Trust me, humans can endure a lot when they know there’s a time limit,” you chuckle humorlessly and pull away, “Let’s just do the gift exchange and leave.”

Downstairs, your parents are waiting for you by the tree. The collection of presents is sparse this year due to the short notice but you find it relieving to know that the gift exchange will be over quickly. 

Placing the baby monitor on the coffee table, you sit down on the sofa but don’t allow yourself to relax into it. Javier drops down beside you but leans back into his seat, his hand resting casually on your thigh to ground you. 

“Let’s get to the gifts. It’ll be nice to end this day on a happy note,” your mother says overly cheerfully, pretending to have forgiven and forgotten all about the situation earlier. She reaches for the first gift under the tree while your father stands ready with a bag for the wrapping paper. 

“That’s mine,” Javier tells her with a little smirk in your direction. He holds out his hand until she gives it to him, “To my beautiful wife. Merry Christmas, baby.”

“How thoughtful,” your mother mumbles and sits on the edge of her armchair. 

“Javi, I thought we weren’t on gifts this year,” you scold playfully but there’s no seriousness to your voice. You finally smile and this time it is genuine, feeling his gaze on you while you impatiently rip the wrapping. 

“I know what I said but I know you’ll love it. It’s more for Lucas anyway,” he informs you shyly. 

Inside, you find two pairs of identical fuzzy and comfortable socks with a dinosaur print on them. However, one pair fits Lucas’ tiny feet and the other fits yours. Your whole demeanor changes with the sight of your gift, your face lighting up with a bright smile, “These are so cute!”

“For your cold feet. Thought you could use something cozy while you take care of Luke at home,” he moves his hand to rest just above the small of your back, his palm smoothing over you on top of the fabric of your blouse. 

Your parents sit idly by. They stare at the gift with confusion and arrogance, clearly holding their tongue over how ridiculous they find it. Your mother picks at her fingers, “Interesting.”

“Interesting? Aren’t they adorable?” You hold the matching socks up happily, not sure what to expect but not even your mother’s judgmental expression can bring you down right now. To really rub it in, you kiss Javier’s mouth gently in front of them, “Gracias, esposo (Thank you, husband).”

But the happiness is short-lived as your father goes to get the next present from the small pile. He searches for a moment amongst the few there are, deliberately seeking out the present that you have brought them, most likely to be able to leave the room soon due to the obvious tension. He has never been one to intervene. 

“You shouldn’t have,” your mother tuts with a small smile as she carefully unwraps it in her lap, her fingers doing everything they can to not tear the paper so she can reuse it. 

When the framed picture of Lucas is revealed - a photo taken during an afternoon when he was particularly happy and smiling - her smile develops into a slightly wider one even if it looks against her will. She studies the picture with your father looking over her shoulder. 

“We thought you’d like something to remember him by,” you encourage her to say something. 

Your mother places the photo on the coffee table, her hands smoothing out the wrapping paper while she talks, “It’s lovely, sweetie. Though I’m sure we’d have more memories if we got to see him more often.”

You tense up beside Javier. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him do the same but he squeezes your hip to tell you that he is right there. Anxiously, you curl your fingers into your skirt but your mother isn’t finished.

“I just don’t understand why you’ve been so distant,” she continues, cold in her tone. “You hardly call, which would be fine but you visit even less than that, and now you’re letting Lucas sleep through his first Christmas. It’s not like you’ve gone back to work, so what is it?”

“Mom, please,” you say quietly but it doesn’t veil the wavering of your words, “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” She challenges, “Lucas has been fussing all night, hasn’t he? Maybe he’s picking up on your stress.”

You hear Javier say your mother’s name as he had during dinner, low and with warning. At the same moment, the baby monitor crackles with the sound of Lucas’ tiny complaints. The sound pulls you from your seat, your instincts to go to him overriding your desire to defend yourself from further abuse. However, your mother’s voice rings out behind you just as you take your first step.

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, just let him cry a little. You’ll make him clingy if you keep running to him every time he whimpers.”

You stop in your tracks, finally turning around to look her in the eye with your own eyes narrowed. You can see Javier watching you closely while you talk, “Mom, if he cries, he needs me.”

According to you, she has already gone too far but it seems that she cannot stop once she has started, “You know, you really should stop babying him so much. He needs to learn to self-soothe.”

Tears of frustration start to build in your chest and you can feel the muscles of your throat start to tighten as they rise to your eyes, “Jesus Christ, Mom, I’m not going to stop babying my baby.”

Her final blow comes out with a deliberate intention to hurt you, “There you go overthinking again and snapping at your mother. He is whimpering. Honestly, sometimes I wonder how Javier puts up with it. You can be such a bitch when you’re stressed.”

The room falls dead silent and the first tear escapes your eye at the cruel nickname… then a second and then a third until you start to cry silently and hopelessly. You suddenly feel like a teenager again, suffering from forced proximity. Your father opens his mouth but nothing comes out, seemingly not able to figure out how to defend his wife for once. It is the final straw for Javier.

“What did you just say?” He firmly cuts through the silence. He has gotten up from his seat and has stepped in front of you to shield you protectively from your mother’s line of sight. His nostrils flare with anger that might explode into rage at any moment but he keeps his voice steady, “You better not have said what I think you did or I am wondering why you haven’t apologized already.”

Your mother’s eyes widen at the idea of consequences. She splutters, caught off guard, “Apologize? Javier, don’t be ridiculous! I’m her mother—“

Javier laughs dangerously and condescendingly and looks away with a roll of his eyes. He shakes his head, not afraid to let the room know that he thinks she sounds pathetic without even calling her out on it. He crosses his arms over his chest, “You got a hell of a way of showing motherly love then; all you have done is tear her down today.”

“Javier,” your father tries to interject, “Let’s not make this into a scene.”

“No,” Javier turns to him, his jaw muscles flexing slightly underneath his skin with how much anger is flowing through him. The simple word makes your father sit up straighter than before - a testament to Javier’s days in Colombia - but Javier is not done, “You don’t get to lecture me about making a scene. Not after sitting there and letting this happen. She is your daughter.”

When your father has shut his mouth, looking uncomfortable by his defeat while he leans back into his seat with no intention to follow up on his words, Javier’s fury settles on your mother once more, “What’s your goal here, exactly?”

You’re aware that it isn’t just a simple few tears falling from your eyes anymore but rather a silent stream that has your face puffy and sensitive. It is accompanied by grief over your younger self not having had someone like Javier in her corner. You sniffle audibly, feeling as if you have been punched in the gut with how much it hurts and humiliates you to sit idly by. Your mother catches a glimpse of you behind your husband but it doesn’t seem to have any effect whatsoever. 

“There’s no secret agenda here, for God’s sake. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she sneers, trying to keep her demeanor straight despite the humiliation of getting called out being evident on her face. 

“Yes, you did,” Javier argues immediately and fiercely, pointing his index finger at her in an accusing manner, “You knew exactly what you were saying. You wanted her to hurt. Well congratulations, you’ve succeeded. Unfortunately, your daughter is a lot nicer than me and handled your words with a lot more grace than you deserve. I will not be doing the same thing.”

Your mother’s composure falters. She says your father’s name helplessly but he looks at her with tired eyes, full of quiet disappointment. Even if he is absent and passive like always, his refusal to intervene further is a sign that he would never go as far as his wife has just done. He shakes his head in disapproval, “Why’d you do it? We were having such a nice time too.”

She gapes at your father while his gaze drops to his lap, shrinking herself slightly at the realization that she is outnumbered and has to face your husband alone. Javier takes a step closer, radiating authority when she tries to avoid further confrontation, distaste so clear on his face for how he has lost her attention for a moment. When you let out a quiet sob, too paralyzed in your spot on the couch to go to your whimpering child, his face hardens further and he continues, “Listen to me.”

Your mother looks up reluctantly. She appears to be on the brink of an attempt to turn his words against him and argue right back once more, but Javier cuts her off before she can even start. 

“You don’t talk to her like that again. Ever. And you most certainly do not question her ability to be a mother. She is a perfect mother and God knows, she hasn’t gotten it from you. Lucas is a happy, healthy, and thriving baby because of her,” he takes a breath, and for a second, it seems like he might be done but then, “You hurt my girl, you understand that? And if you ever speak to her like that again - actually if you even speak about her like that again -  I will personally make sure you don’t get to have Lucas in your life.”

“Are you threatening us?” Her composure slips even more. 

“No, ma’am, I am instructing you,” he replies coldly, “If you can’t respect his mother, we’re done here.”

Javier turns to you now, his face softening immediately at the sight of you sitting teary-eyed on the couch with your hands clutching the baby monitor. He says your name so softly, a sound that has always felt like an unfamiliar and unwelcome sound within this house, and gently pulls the piece of technology out of your hands. 

“Listen to me, baby. Go wait in the car. I’ll get Lucas and his things,” he instructs you, placing the baby monitor on the coffee table behind him without looking away from you. He helps you to stand when you find yourself nodding. 

When you’re up from your seat, he puts a hand on the small of your back to guide you towards the door. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let you linger in the room. 

“You don’t have to leave,” your mother protests with obvious surprise that you and Javier are carrying out the promise of consequences. She begins pushing herself to stand. 

“Sit down, I will not let you disturb any of the peace she has left,” he commands harshly when she tries to take a step toward you. 

Your mother falters, stunned by his audacity, and sinks back into her seat.

The moment you’re out of the front door, your legs start shaking so badly beneath you that you aren’t sure if you’ll even make it to the car. The walk feels endless, like climbing a mountain, the neighborhood surrounding your childhood home quiet because everyone is inside with the happy family that you never got to have growing up. 

Until now. You have it now. However, you have left them to fend for themselves on the battlefield to slide into the front seat of the car. You rub your chest as it feels tight but it soothes nothing and suddenly, the tears come harder than they had in the living room. You rest your head against the glass window, screwing your eyes shut and feeling drips of hot tears on your cheeks.

Memories come flooding and you have no power to stop them, pictures of many nights spent in solitude in your room because it was the only illusion of sanctuary in the house before you. The sound of your mother’s scoffs, her unbearable ability to make you feel small, inadequate, and unwanted. Her year-long cruelty feels like a knife in your chest but your father’s silent complicity twists its blade too, makes you think that you were never worthy of defending. 

Yet Javier had done it so effortlessly, had done what you’d wished someone would have done for you in your entire life, and he had done it without any hesitation. You are shattered by another night believing the worst about yourself, yes, but you realize that a part of your sobs comes from relief too. Suddenly, it all feels silly and you don’t know why you have always stopped Javier from speaking up for you since you met because his words - she is a perfect mother - have taken the power out of your mother’s incredibly fast. 

You hear the front door open and a shaky sob leaves you at seeing the two of your boys approach the car. Javier has the diaper bag over his shoulder whilst cradling Lucas against his chest, his face serious. He moves in long strides to get to you fast, not saying anything as he buckles Lucas’ sleeping form into his car seat before climbing into his own seat in the front. 

You sit up again, eyes still brimming with tears that streak your face. You feel overwhelmed like you have run a marathon or fought a bear or a monster. 

Javier puts on his seatbelt but doesn’t put the key in the ignition yet. He looks out of the windshield for a moment, breathes a sigh of relief. The car is quiet except for Lucas’ soft breaths as he sleeps.

Right until Javier says your name when you don’t automatically turn your head to look at him, ashamed of how the day has progressed. It is Christmas, after all, and Lucas’ first one ever too. 

“Mírame (Look at me),” he says in a gentle murmur. 

You shake your head, unable to answer with how tightly wound you are. You feel his hand under your chin, carefully pulling you by your chin until your eyes meet his. His outline is blurry from all the tears but his voice cuts through the fog in gentle firmness. 

“I love you so much, and I love our son, okay?” He says it like it is a promise, “They aren't ever gonna to talk to you like that again because I won't allow them to. Do you understand me?”

You silently look at him through your tears, nodding weakly. He reaches to brush your tears away with a knuckle. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay because you don’t have to see them if you don’t want to. You just have to let me take care of you,” he continues and cups your cheek instead, “And right now, I say you’re done with them for tonight. Actually, for as long as you fucking want.”

“I want… I don’t…” You say at first but then, “I’m sorry.”

Javier furrows his brows, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because that’s my mom,” you try to speak around a fresh sob, “And you married me and I trapped you with my fucked up family.”

“Hey, heyheyhey,” he shakes his head, moving his other hand to cup your whole face now. He leans over the console of the car and rests his forehead against yours. When you simply cry harder, he pulls you into a hug, “You didn’t trap me, okay? You didn’t. I’m here because you make me happy. You make me so happy, baby, and Hell knows, I needed a bit of taking care of when you met me. Let me return the favor.”

His body is warm, soothing, and grounding. His embrace squeezes you hard enough to make you calm down, giving you a moment of quiet peace in your mind as you begin to take in his words. You feel the same. You want to say it but you’re afraid that you’ll never stop crying tonight, so instead you find the courage to say those words that you should have told yourself years ago, “I don’t think I want to go back.”

“What do you want to do then?” Javier pulls back to look at you. He moves back into his own seat again and starts the car to give you time to think clearly about his question. 

“Can we go to your dad’s?” You ask hesitantly. 

Javier’s brows rise slightly but he doesn’t argue, just nods as he puts the car in reverse. Before reversing out of the driveway, he pulls you in to kiss your forehead softly. 

“Claro, mi amor (Sure, my love),” he says simply, “He’d love to see us.”

.

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If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[burningembers91]

Kimchi Stew - Hwang In-Ho x Fem!Reader (Slight NSFW)

Follow up to: The Girl Next Door

Synopsis: As your relationship develops, Hwang In-Ho is torn between his devotion to his wife, and his growing feelings for you.

Warnings: 18+ only, mentions of deceased wife, themes of depression and loneliness, masturbation

 It had been six weeks since the pipe in your kitchen had burst. Six weeks since you’d gone to your neighbour for help. Hwang In-Ho had been round many times since then, first to return the bowl you’d left outside his door, then to fix a curtain pole he’d noticed was slightly wonky. He then fixed the leg of your sofa, the one that had never sat quite straight. He constantly found something to fix, something that needed a little tweak here and there. Your apartment was the size of a matchbox, but your neighbour never ran out of things to fix.

You’d been shocked the first time you laid eyes on him with his unkempt hair and scraggly beard, the clothes that hung off his thin frame. What struck you most, however, was the deep-rooted sadness in his eyes. You’d never seen anything like it, had never seen someone so broken. In recent weeks however, you’d noticed subtle changes. The day after the kitchen pipe fiasco, he returned with the bowl you’d filled with kimchi stew, his scraggly beard now gone. His face was handsome, his features chiselled, but his eyes blazed with unspoken heartbreak. He began to slowly put on weight, his clothes appearing less baggy with each passing week. Some nights he ate with you, but most nights he chose to sit by himself at home, eating in silence as he listened to your music through the thin walls.

He was finding it harder to stay away from you, but he was running out of things in your apartment to fix. The other day he’d insisted on fixing a tap that wasn’t even broken. He found himself craving your company, found himself thinking of you each night before he went to sleep. His wife still occupied 95% of his brain space, but you were there too. Your smile, your laugh, your scent filled his mind, the familiar ache deep in the pit of his belly surfacing every now and again. He still thought about the way your breasts looked in your wet t-shirt, how pert your nipples were against the fabric. He thought about how you sounded when your ex would stay the night. How your sweet, soft moans would fill his apartment while you made love. He could feel the desire to touch himself returning, but he refused. He didn’t deserve happiness, not after he failed to save his wife and baby. He deserved to be alone.

Hwang In-Ho didn’t know you thought of him too. he didn’t know you longed to kiss that sadness away, that you wanted to hold him until he cried the tears you knew he was so desperate to shed. You’d never seen or heard anyone coming or leaving his apartment. When you went over to ask for help with your kitchen sink, you noticed that he had no furniture. The floors and walls were bare, save for a thin duvet and sleeping mat in the far corner of the room. You wanted to ask him what had happened, but In-Ho was a man of very few words. He had a gruff exterior, and when you were together, he barely spoke a word. He seemed to like the music you played though, so you made sure something was always on. You pretended not to notice when he started humming along to Sabrina Carpenter, but you couldn’t help but smile. You wondered if, on the nights he spent alone, he ate something other than packaged ramen.

Hwang In-Ho had begun to feel overwhelmed by loneliness. The time he spent with you had made him realise how badly he craved human connection. He was wracked with guilt for wanting to spend time with you, his duty to his long-dead wife and child still at the forefront of his mind. He was so lonely though, spending his nights thinking of her and of you, before he cried himself to sleep. He couldn’t go on like this; he needed the company of another soul. He’d ventured out a few weeks back to look for work. His money was all but gone, and he didn’t want to live like a hermit anymore. He’d secured a job as a shelf-stacker at a local supermarket, and while it wasn’t the swanky insurance job he’d had before, it was a start. He’d bought himself a small table and chairs, and a 2-seater sofa that looked out over the park. His apartment was finally starting to feel a little more like home. Now he just had to get the courage up to ask you over.

You beat him to it though, appearing at his door one day with that beautiful smile glued to your face. “Come for dinner tonight,” you smiled, your invite not a request, but an order. You could sense his loneliness, and you couldn’t allow yourself to neglect a fellow human in need. “Ok,” he said, his lips twitching into something resembling a smile. “Can you make kimchi stew?” “Of course! See you at 7. Don’t be late!” With that you left, and In-Ho felt excitement bubbling in his chest for the first time in a long time. He'd bought a new shirt the other day, a crisp white one that he’d ironed especially for the day he got the courage up to ask you over. He chose to wear it tonight, a nice change from the same three t-shirts he cycled through. He wanted to look nice, wanted to show you that appreciated the effort you were going to.

Your kimchi stew was just as delicious as always, the two of you eating in comfortable silence as Coldplay sang quietly over the speaker. You’d lit a few candles tonight, the scent of lavender lingering in the air. You looked beautiful in your red sweater and blue jeans, your eyes glistening in the glow from the candles. He listened to you talk, grateful that you could carry a conversation without much input needed from him. You told him about yourself, about your job and your friends. You were careful not to ask questions about him, sensing he didn’t want to divulge any personal information. He so badly wanted to tell you about himself. He wanted to tell you why he lived alone in a damp apartment, why he hadn’t smiled since his wife got sick. He wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked tonight, how your skin glowed when you smiled. He wanted to tell you how badly he wanted to kiss you; how much he wanted to know what it would feel like to run his fingers over the softness of your skin. He wanted to tell you how conflicted he was, how his head was filled with nothing but devotion to his wife and a growing attraction to you. He wanted to scream at the sky, to ask the universe why life was so fucking unfair. “Thank you for the stew,” was all he managed to say.

You refilled your wine glasses, listening as The Scientist began playing. The man opposite you was a mystery, one that you were dying to solve. You could tell he was trying, but he was still holding back. You had no idea what this was between you. it was certainly more than neighbours just being friendly, but it definitely wasn’t anything romantic, as much as you wanted it to be, but you weren’t sure if In-Ho felt the same. You were running out of things to talk about, but you didn’t want him to go home. “Do you want to play a card game?” you asked, desperate to find an excuse to keep him with you just a while longer. In-Ho nodded, not daring himself to speak. Your cheeks were flushed with the wine, your breasts perfectly outlined in your sweater. He shifted in his seat, his gaze roaming between your eyes, your breasts and a small crack in the ceiling above your fridge. He’d have to come back tomorrow to fix it.

You sat and played cards for a few hours, making your way through another bottle of wine. In-Ho was tipsy by the time he returned home, his mind free of anguished thoughts for the first time in what felt like a lifetime. He had a smile on his face, a proper one that made his jaw ache. You were so much fun, so funny, smart and beautiful. He didn’t want to leave, but he had work the next morning and if he had one more glass of wine, he’d been too hungover.

He lay staring at the ceiling that night, his thoughts filled with you. His wife was there too, she always was, but tonight you wouldn’t leave his mind. It was getting harder to deny his attraction to you, and he was struggling to stop his mind wandering. His hand palmed his stiffening cock, picturing the way you looked tonight. He thought about kissing your soft lips, thought about removing your sweater and pushing you down against your mattress. He pleasured himself to the thought of you moaning his name, the thought of you dragging your nails down his back. He thought about fucking you, about how it would feel to be inside you. His release was loud, his moan ricocheting off the walls as his seed painted his palm and belly. He didn’t care if you heard him, didn’t care if you knew what he was doing. The wine had made him a little looser, a little more carefree. In-Ho was undeniably infatuated with you, but as he came down from his self-induced high, he was overwhelmed by immense feelings of guilt. His wife had been the love of his life, the woman he had sworn to love and protect. He had failed to protect her, but he would always love her. He’d never imagined he’d meet another person that set his heart on fire. But you, you were the light at the end of a perpetually dark tunnel. Hwang In-Ho just had to find the courage to follow the light and leave the darkness for good.

[azziesbattybaddie]

Shadows and Snow Angels

Chapter 1 - A little bundle

Azriel x Reader, Azriel x child OCs

Normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to get mad it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

Word count: 1.3k

💕 💔

Requested: Sorta. This prompt wasn't requested to me per se, but I saw @romantasyreader28 made a post wanting someone to write it and it inspired me.

If you don't like what your reading click off!

Series warnings: past emotional abuse, past physical abuse, past emotional trauma, non explicit thoughts of suicide, depression, parental doubt, child abandonment, past child abandonment, brief talk of past pregnancy. no details mentioned, mention of non explicit SA. Every chapter will be individually tagged.

Author's note: I just wanted to say that this prompt pulled me out of a really bad writing slump after my co-writer/biscuit making master childhood kitty unfortunately passed about 2 months ago. So thank you @romantasyreader28, this story really helped me get back into writing and I hope you really enjoy it. It did deviate slightly from your original prompt but I hope that the fact that this will be a series makes up for it. Enjoy!

Author's note 2: hey so I lied, I got a boost of energy and actually finished this early, so I'm only 1 day late. I'm going to try and put a fic or drabble out every Friday but please be aware I'm in the middle of moving so if I miss a day or am late, it's probably for good reason.

Chapter warnings: brief talk of past child abandonment, non explicit memories of child abuse, brief mention of being pregnant, implied SA, some cursing but not much.

See normally when your mate Azriel comes home from the camps and asks you not to be mad, it's because he brought home another wounded animal, not a baby boy...

"Please don't be upset, Devlon said that if someone didn't take him then he was going to send him off to another camp and he would end up just like Cass... I couldn't just leave him like that." His Shadows reached out to you invitingly, curling and spinning like they were excited. "Love, please say something..."

Your mate never rambled, it wasn't in his nature and that's what shocked you the most to be honest. So you sat where you were on the couch, mid bite of pizza, trying to figure out if he actually adopted a baby without telling you, or if he just decided to babysit Nyx for the night and is pranking you. No, no he definitely adopted a baby and didn't tell you, that sounds about right for him.

"Azriel, tell me that this is a prank and that, THAT little boy is just our nephew in a table cloth..." You set down your plate of food and walked over to your mate, Shadows now running up your back and sitting on your shoulders calmly. You knew, you just had a feeling in your gut that he was not just joking around.

Azriel was clutching the small bundle to his chest as if it would disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly. You came and pulled back the fabric to see a small Illyrian infant tightly wrapped in a tattered excuse of a baby blanket. You gasped and clapped a hand over your mouth as you saw the most precious little thing, he had no clothes but the blanket. A lithe inky Shadow jumped from your hand and into the little boy. It nuzzled his cheek lovingly before returning to rest under your mates wing.

You scooped the baby up out of Azriels arms before he could react and headed upstairs to the nursery. You quickly set him on the changing table, and unfurled the raggy fabric. The poor thing didn't even have a diaper just mess of fabric pinned against him. You didn't have to even leave the changing station seeing as the shadows that followed you up the stairs had a clean garment waiting right next to you. As you were changing him into a fresh, actual diaper, you heard Azriel's footsteps coming up the stairs behind you.

"Babe, I know that you have a perfectly reasonable explanation but your timing is kind of horrible Azzie..." You said only half joking as you handed him the baby back gently and grabbed the nearest actual blanket to wrap around him snuggly. You quickly ran to dress your sleeping baby girl is some warm clothes and a blanket too. Barely 2 weeks old and the little Astrid was already mixed into the family drama.

"Where are we going?" Azriel asked tentatively. He was holding the baby like a statue, only holding him right because of how you handed him over. Azriel's Shadows swarmed Astrid the moment you set her down to go nuzzle and love on her. You had taught them to be careful to not completely smother her. It was said that a Shadowsinger's Shadows would only listen to their master. Maybe it was the mating bond, maybe they just liked you but sometimes it seemed that the inky void that shrouds your mate, liked you better.

"Az, you know how to hold a baby, you know cuz your and Uncle... And a Father..." You set your still daughter back in her crib for a moment and padded over and cradle your mates face in your hand, your other intertwined with his scared flesh. "I'm not mad at you. Just, you do realize that we've only had Astrid for a couple of weeks and now we have two, right?"

"I know, and I'm sorry for not telling you. I was afraid if I didn't bring him home, Devlon would have sent him off before I could get back." Azriels shoulders seemed to finally relax a shadow falling from his mess of curls to sit around his neck calming. His grip on the swaddled little one became natural again. "You still didn't tell me where we are going, it past 1 in the morning."

You picked up Astrid, shooing away the inky void that doted on her constantly and walked to your bed room to grab your shoes and your coat. Azriel stood in the hallway that lead back downstairs, waiting for you patiently. He was bouncing the little boy in his arms gently, this parental instincts finally coming back to him when the little one started to cry.

"Feyre always said that we could head over to the river house in a time of emergency and I'm detailing 'we just adopted a little boy with no clothes or anything we need to take care for of a second baby,' an emergency. She probably still has some clothes that is too small for Nyx laying around, for now at least."

You both decided to walk the short distance to you home to the giant river house. Your daughters wings fluttered at the feel of snowflakes melting on the every so often. You both walked close together, as you usually did, babys in arms, the quiet of velaris washed over the two of you like a blanket. You could feel Azriel's Shadows almost climbing up your legs and coming to rest on your shoulders to admire their masters daughter.

"Ok..." You said slowly your head clearing with the fresh chilled air. "I'm not upset. But I'm going to ask some questions and I need better than 'I don't know', ok?" You needed to hear what happened, as much as it happens, it's rare for a baby to end up with no one and you wanted to know everything about this little life that you were about to add to your family.

Azriel nodded his head, his eyes trailed over the white city. As tense as he always looked, Azriel's Shadows curled up under his wings comfortably. He cradled the infant tightly to his chest, scarred fingers gently played with the edge of the blanket as you both walked. Normally the Shadows would flock to you when you had Astrid but they seemed to have divided, wanting to look over and cuddle both babys.

"Does he have a name?" You start with. As you cross the Sidra you can smell the food coming from the rainbow, you could even hear the faint sound of music booming, Rita's not being far away. You still can't believe that days of going out and partying until sunrise with your family wouldn't be an option for a long, long while.

"Not that I know of." He shrugged, adjusting the blanket so the infants wings fan out comfortably after he started to fuss. The boy seemed to be a calm baby so far but you would be taking him to madja bright and early tomorrow just to make sure nothing was wrong.

"How old is he?"

"Devlon said he's not more than 6 months old, he didn't know specifics. He just said that his father was killed in the blood rite this year and his mother was... Like I said, he would have been just another Cass..." He bounced the little boy in his arms, more to soothe himself than the baby.

Your blood boiled in your veins, and you had to take multiple deep breaths to keep from crying. You loved your mate dearly, and his brothers were your family, the best you could have asked for but Illyrians in general made you so angry most of the time! They treat females like property and they steal them just the same. Then the female gets shamed for being pregnant, without a husband. If he really was like Cass, you prayed to the Cauldron that his mother had a peaceful second life after what she no doubt endured.

"Well, if we're going to keep him, he's going to need a name." You said with a smile as you neared the side walk that lead up to the river house. Your mate had the biggest heart and the kindest soul, you didn't care what anyone said, you knew him best. This male brought home countless animals so he could nurse them back to health. He always made sure that nothing bad happened to those animals, and if they didn't make it, they earned a spot in your backyard with the other rainbow pets, as Azriel likes to call them. If the Mother sent him a baby then she meant for us to be the ones to love him. Azriel thought for a bit. He only looked up once we stood at the front door of his brother's home.

"What about Rhain?" A shadow flew up and wrapped around the door knocker, knocking loudly before returning to your mates shoulder.

"Why Rhain?" You asked before knocking again louder this time before you saw a light turn on inside meaning you got somes attention.

Azriel shrugged his shoulders and shook his head with the smallest smile coming to rest over his face. He looked down at the bundled little baby with a fondness you only seen him show to your daughter. You head shuffling on the other side of the door and smiled at your mate before your brother in law opened the door, looking very much worse for wear.

"Rhain it is."

FYI Rhain, pronounced Rain or Rine, either is fine means strength, power, resistance, and potential. It also means 'the spear' in Welsh.

If you want to be added to the tag list or would like to be added to the tag list for the series masterlist plz comment or dm me and I'll add you.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope that you enjoyed!

Taglist

@romantasyreader28 @mulansaucey @jennnsthings @6v6babycheese @mich0731 @starlightandsouls @ohemgeewhat @littlelunatica @icey--stars @paleidiot @jir67

[cherie-doll]

I have this brainrot for a while now

Which cod man would be the most husband material, who waits for the shortest amount of time before getting married? And who would be the one who would be fine with not getting married at all? And where are the rest of them?

How many kids would they want if they want?

I don’t need sleep, i need answers!😭

sorry for the delay my wifi is so slow, we just got a new batch of snow down here and tbh it might be affecting my internet

✧ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ᰍᩚ Price... he's PERFECT husband material. Cut from the finest cloth I'm SO normal about him. You've just observed his behavior closely and he doesn't do annoying things like leaving his clothes lying around on the floor or leaving unwashed dishes in the sink. He def want to get married, but doesn't wait too long nor asks you right away, he'd time it just right. As for kids? Maybe he could convince you to have one or two...

ᰍᩚ Ghost... he doesn't realize he can lowkey be a good husband. He thinks he's not willing to adapt to anyone, given how much stuff he's been through. A relationship isn't the worst thing he's had to go through, he's gone through worse, so why is he thinking about it so much? He doesn't want to enter a relationship with only half a heart, not mindlessly. But he knows his feelings towards you don't come from nothing. His feelings would have to be resolved before you even started dating, so that afterwards everything progresses pretty smoothly. And after marriage, kids? Maybe idk.

ᰍᩚ Soap... he probably had your entire life planned out before he confessed. He knew he loved you, was convinced he wanted to marry you and needed to have kids. So, he waited the least amount of time to marry you. There's lots of things he could improve on as a partner but the good thing is he's willing to make any and all of those changes for you. His respect will never run dry, he won't let desperation take ahold of him, always letting you know one way or another he still cares. It was up to you to decide how many kids you'd be okay with but if it were up to him... yk what better not go there.

ᰍᩚ Gaz... Perfect boyfriend AND husband material. He loves showing affection with the little things, a cup of coffee or tea and cuddling when you feel down or taking care of chores when you need a break. Simple things that he does on the daily that in the long run fortify your relationship. The amount of time he waits before asking you to marry him depends and it's all on how you want your relationship to progress. He's surefooted in his decisions so after the initial stages of the relationship when he's gotten to know you very well, your faults and what he loves about you, he just lets you know that if you want to take that step, he's more than ready to do so. He def wants kids, at least three.

ᰍᩚ Roach... oh my sweet boy ToT. He's such boyfriend material and in time will no doubt grow into a loving husband. He very deeply cares about your connection and how deep it runs between you both. The topic of marriage comes up at a very proper time in your relationship, it's when all he can think of is holding your hand every day, how comforting your presence is to him and how this couldn't ever revert into something casual. Marriage is a definite yes for him. Kids are something he wouldn't think of right away. Maybe a few years down the lane, and maybe one.

ᰍᩚ Alejandro... you made him wish impossible things. How you've made him feel, the sensations not only running smoothly over his skin but finding a way to penetrate deeply, to make him desire nothing else but a life with you. Marriage was the ideal way to continue living in that daydream. How he wishes the days were endless, so he can rejoice for eternity with you. If this was what made him wish to be better, then he was surely husband material. In time, he'd want to start a family with you, to create life, to have little ones to take care of. Three or four kids would occupy his days.

ᰍᩚ Rudy... is THE blueprint for all husbands out there to follow. He's very patient, his voice soothes you, could lull you to sleep. Always listens to you even if you rant, if you point out a flaw of his he works to be better. Never pushed you into doing anything, even when he could already hear the wedding bells ringing, he wanted you to make this decision on your own. In the back of his mind, he most likely already had baby names planned and asked if you wanted kids. He def did and wanted three. He thought it was the perfect number.

ᰍᩚ Phillip Graves... husband material at its FINEST. He's not only charming and a gentleman as a boyfriend but also as a husband. He just couldn't wait to put a ring on your finger so he did want marriage very soon. There is no way he'd NOT want children, he's just as much father material as he is husband material. I've said it before but he was made to father children and I will die on that hill. He loves going everywhere with his son, showing him how to run a company and then he gentles when his daughter is born, doing everything she wants.

ᰍᩚ Makarov... husband material at the core. Deep on the inside he can be genuine and want to care for someone. He likes having someone to depend on him, under his care, leaning on him for that strange affection that isn't found anywhere else. It would be hard to refuse him with the amount of gifts he sends to sweeten you up and coax you to accept his proposal that came too soon for your liking. But look at it this way, he'll always provide everything you'll ever need and want and in exchange you only have to agree to marry him, live with him and... kids. Yes, he wants kids. A numerous family preferably.

ᰍᩚ Keegan... is quite levelheaded when it comes to relationships so he's fine with staying your boyfriend and living with you or becoming your husband when you marry. He could improve on becoming peak husband material but you're lucky if he picks up his clothes from the floor and places it in the laundry basket instead. He thinks having no kids is better until you get a scare thinking you might be with child and he gets excited until you call false alarm. He felt disappointment and then realized he did want kids after all. Would be fine with just one but wouldn't completely be against having another one later on.

ᰍᩚ König... it's not him you have to worry about when it comes to marriage. He's got to watch out for himself because YOU'RE going to wife him up, otherwise he'd never get around to asking you to marry him. Not that he wouldn't want to but he's thinking when would be the perfect moment to ask and he's always thinking, "I'm going to ask them next date", and another date comes and goes by and then another and another... He'd learn to be so loving with kids you just gotta convince him he CAN be a good father. I don't know how many he could handle though.

ᰍᩚ Horangi... he's fun but he's prob best as a boyfriend. Not that he could never be a husband because he can, but he'd be completely fine with not marrying. If you're expecting him to bring up the question and get down on his knee for you... then you're probably setting yourself up for disappointment. It'd take him a while and you'd have to hint at wanting marriage, because otherwise he wouldn't mind just moving in together. I know I used to say he'd want marriage quickly but idk man my perception of him changed. He might get baby fever (rare) and he might ask for ONE kid them, but don't think he's the type for them much.

ᰍᩚ Nikto... if he does open up to wanting a relationship you've got to work with him on the long run. He might be closed off to certain things simply because he might not see a point in progressing in that field, but once he sees that you respect him and don't force anything, he'd def want to marry you. I'm not exactly sure how long he'd wait before proposing to you, honestly it all depends but once he grows attached to a person he wouldn't want to be apart from them so I'm guessing he'd tie the knot pretty soon. The topic of kids is something he's very hesitant of, he rarely gets baby fever, like ever. It'd have to be a lot of convincing on your part. But he might be okay with one or two at most.

[aperrywilliams]

A Bit Rougher (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: You and Spencer have been in a relationship for a little bit more than four months now, and the team doesn't know. One day, the BAU girls ask you by your mystery partner they know you have - even if they don't know who it is - and bring up a topic you are not so sure to share with Spencer yet: your kinky side in sex. What happens when the same Spencer puts a test on you on that matter?

Word Count: 6.5k (I'm not sorry)

Warnings: SMUT/18+/MDNI. Where do I start? Reader sleeps with Spencer (obviously). Talks about sex life. Mentions of tantric sex and rough sex. Mentions of some kinks like choking, spanking, and dom-sub dynamics. Clothes get ripped, Spencer calling you 'my girl' (oh God), masturbation (f receiving), fingering, kind of choking, dirty talk. Spencer does his best as a dom (soft!dom because it can't be any other way), penetrative sex, spanking, begging, more dirty talk, creampie (it really doesn't exist another word for this?), and aftercare. Spencer is the best boyfriend in the world. If I forgot something, please let me know.

A/N: This one was a request. I can't find the original message, and I don't know if the person who asked wanted their name here (I can quickly add it if they want to).

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The moment rays of sunlight peek through the curtain and hit my face, I turn to my back to avoid them, not ready to fully start the day yet.

Still half awake, half sleepy, I can feel a pair of hazel looking at me. I peek one eye open, and I see Spencer smiling at me.

"Good morning, beautiful," he rasps. And I don't know why such simple words have me blushing like a schoolgirl. Beaming, I return the greeting.

"Morning, handsome."

I get my reply with a lingering kiss on my lips, which I fully savored until a sudden thought came to me.

"What time is it? We need to get up."

Spencer, with his calm voice, shakes his head.

"It's a bit early yet. We have time. Also, you have some clothes here, so you don't need to go to your apartment before driving to work."

Smart me for bringing clothes to his apartment. It's an obvious decision, though, considering I have spent more nights here in the past weeks than in my place.

A devilish smirk makes an appearance on my face.

"So, we do have time, don't we?"

"Yes, sweetheart. We do," Spencer mumbles, scooting closer and peppering kisses on my face and then down to my collarbone.

Oh boy, this is what I call a good way to start the day.

-

How much time can you fool a bunch of the best profilers in the country, hiding your relationship with one of your coworkers? Spencer and I keep the count. The mark is set now in four months and two weeks.

It's not that we are embarrassed by what we have or anything close to that. It's just that things started so casually and naturally, and they're running so smoothly, so we want to keep it to ourselves as long as we can.

And by now? It's working.

We have also been careful about it. On our first nights together, we woke up early and went home for a shower and a change of clothes. After some weeks, we started to pack extra in our go-bag. Now, we have at least a change of clothes in each other's places. The second rule is never to get to work at the same time or on the same transportation. Spencer usually takes the metro even if I can drive and make time in the parking lot. Just one day, we did it, and we were so worked up in our making out session that we almost got caught by Morgan, who parked two cars away from mine.

Naturally, any form of PDA at work is completely off-limits. That's the toughest rule to follow. After all, we spend more time at the office and on the road than we do at home, so avoiding any kind of touch is definitely a challenge.

Despite all that, I can't help but feel happier every day as I fall deeper for Spencer. I often feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, constantly distracted by thoughts of him. Clearly, my behavior hasn't gone unnoticed, at least not by the three girls cornering me right now in the BAU kitchen.

"So, are you going to deny you're having fun these days?" Emily teases me while JJ and Penelope giggle in agreement.

"Where did that come from?" I say, intentionally diverting my gaze to the mug I'm filling with coffee.

"It's just basic observation, my dear," Penelope chimes in.

"Basic observation? I honestly don't follow you guys at all," I reply, feeling a bit overwhelmed by this unexpected Tuesday morning interrogation. This time, JJ steps forward with her evidence laid out right before me.

"We have all noticed the changes in you over the past few months—the giddy smile that lights up your face when you read a text on your phone, the new pep in your step, and how you hurry home every time we finish a case. Do I need to say more?"

"Busted!" Garcia points a mocking finger at me. I roll my eyes in fake annoyance. After all, they are completely right.

"Okay, okay. Yeah. I'm seeing a guy. Happy?" I confess, and Garcia squeals.

"Yay! We need to know everything about him."

Oh. That's dangerous territory.

JJ notices my discomfort and tries to ease it a bit.

"Penelope, I'm sure we'll know more with time. Right?" JJ looks at me, and I nod appreciatively.

"Okay. But the basics. Is the guy good?" Emily asks. A silly smile appears on my face.

"Of course he is. He's caring, fun, always attentive-" I'm about to start a rant about how my mystery man is perfect. But Emily's snort stops me at mid-sentence.

"What?"

"Emily is asking if he is good in bed!" Penelope clarifies, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Oh, Lord. What have I got into?

"Are you really expecting me to tell you about my sex life?"

The three girls nod in unison with no shame. Well, I guess I got my answer.

"Like if you haven't done it before. And for what it is worth, we all have said something about it more than once. That's why we created girls's night in the first place," Emily points eloquently, as always.

Touchè. They are right. I have said more than I would like to admit about my sex life. But now it's not that simple. We are talking about Spencer, even if they don't know it yet.

"Then? Is he good or not?"

I contemplate my answer not because I don't know what to say but not revealing more than necessary.

"I don't think good is enough to describe sex with him. The first time we slept together was amazing. The whole night was if you know what I mean. Since then, we have taken our time, savoring the moment, giving, and receiving a new part of ourselves when we do it. So, yes, sex with him is more than good."

"But it could be better," Garcia interjects, and I look at her baffled.

"How's so? Didn't I just say the sex is great?"

The three women nod in agreement, but I think I'm missing something here.

"Don't take it the wrong way, my lovely. We are really happy you are having fun and enjoying yourself," Garcia says, patting my shoulder. "But it sounds pretty vanilla to me. And it's not bad! Not at all!"

I frown, and Emily rolls her eyes, continuing Garcia's idea.

"What Penelope tries to bring here is what we talked back then about your last partner. Remember? The one who liked tantric sex?"

Oh. Yeah. I remember that one. It's not one of my finest choices, if I have to be honest. But it wasn't the guy's fault.

"Yeah. What about him?"

"You forgot how you complained about him being basically a statue? That you wanted it rough, and the guy never got the memo?" Penelope fills in, arching an eyebrow. My cheeks are flush crimson right now.

"I can't believe we are talking about this in the office kitchen," I mumble, embarrassed. "But that was different."

Emily scoffs. "What? Did you change your kinks now? What happened with the choking, the spanking, the begging, and all those things?"

"Emily Prentiss, can you please shut up? This conversation is too much for a morning in the office," I complain, shaking my head to try to cool my red face.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop. But if you are still into it - and I'm sure you are - maybe it's a good idea to share it with your partner. Healthy sex life and all that, so it doesn't happen what it did with the tantric guy."

"Well, thank you all for your concern. But I think I'm good. Now, can we please drop the subject?"

Luckily for me, the girls listened and changed the topic. By the time we leave the kitchen, I feel less embarrassed and ready to continue my paperwork.

But the conversation kept popping into my head from time to time during the day. My sexual preferences haven't changed 180 degrees, that's true, but with Spencer, it's different. I wouldn't want to bring something like that up if it's going to make him uncomfortable. Our relationship is still fresh, and I'm happy with our current sex life.

And talking about Spencer, I haven't seen him the whole morning. By the time lunchtime arrives, he doesn't come back to his desk, so I go with the girls and Morgan.

When we come back from lunch, I finally see him at his desk, concentrating on a pile of files. A smile creeps in my face. He looks so damn good with the crocked tie, messy hair, and shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms. This man has ruined me just sitting there. I'm doomed.

"Hey," I call his attention, and he turns his head to look up at me.

"Hi," he returns a smile.

"I haven't seen you around in hours. Are you okay?"

A frown appears on his face, but he brushes it off quickly.

"Me? Oh, yeah. Fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. It's just Hotch that had me checking and analyzing a pile of boxes with folders from old cases in the store office. That's all."

It makes sense. Spencer's fast reading is a blessing and a curse, and obviously, people tend to use it often in the office.

"I'm sorry, sure it wasn't a very entertaining task."

A shy smile creeps on his lips, and I have to use all my self-control not to pounce on him right now and pepper his face with kisses.

"It's okay. I'm already done, anyway. How has been your morning?"

"Oh. Mostly paperwork. As everyone. But I think I'll be done soon, too." Before continuing, I check my surroundings to ensure nobody else is listening. "Maybe we can go home early?" I suggest seductively.

The flush in Spencer's cheeks is endearing. It's like the ones I sported this morning when the girls were interrogating me. And they want me to tell this boy about my kinks? No way. I won't do that if it means he won't feel comfortable with me again.

"We could. But I'm afraid plans will have to wait," Spencer says as his gaze shifts from me to Garcia and the quick tip-tap of her heels, heading to the conference room.

Fuck. A new case.

-

Don't get me wrong. I love my job. But being stuck in the middle of the desert, looking for an unsub that seems to be a ghost? And I say 'ghost' literally because we are looking for a guy who is dead for the town records. No, this is not my idea of a 'normal work day.'

It's frustrating, and not only for the lack of progress. The heat here is like hell. The AC barely works, and everyone's mood is bitchy.

We are not making any progress by now, so Hotch sends us to the hotel for the night. Once in my room, I text Spencer, not with an explicit purpose but to talk to him for a while. But he doesn't answer my texts. Is he sleeping by now? Considering he's a night owl, I found it very rare. But maybe he's drained like everyone else, so I let it slide.

In the morning, after my shower, I'm checking my phone, and I don't have any messages. Has Spencer received my texts?

I don't want to sound paranoid, but it's like something is going on. At the precinct, I barely get a hello from Spencer. Okay. Maybe it's the stress. I don't give it too much thought, either. Not when we have work to do.

And boy, we have been working hard on this one. Some clues give us hope, but we're far from catching the unsub.

In the little spare time we have between interrogations and visiting dumping sites, I try to share moments with Spencer, but it definitely seems like he doesn't want to be alone with me in the same room, even if he doesn't say it or shows signs of annoyance or animosity towards me.

I can't tell why he is so distant, but it's starting to worry me. Did I do something? And it's killing me because the more I think about it, the more I miss him. A kiss, a hug, anything from him would ease the ache I'm starting to feel.

It doesn't help that he has been choosing to wear the sexiest clothes he has in his go-bag. Those tight grey pants that accentuate his ass, those button-ups with sleeves rolled up.

We have been here for six days, and I think I'm going crazy. I have been trying to be subtle and professional. But I swear that if one more day goes by without being able to feel Spencer's touch, I don't know what I'll be able to do.

It seems heaven has listened to me because we finally managed to catch the unsub, and we're on the jet on our way home. But I'm nervous. I didn't even want to sit next to Spencer like I usually do. I don't know why. What if he wants to break up with me, and I'm just dragging things out?

What the hell am I talking about? I don't believe I'm thinking clearly here. But this week has been so odd that I don't know what to think.

Maybe when we land, I can finally talk to Spencer and put an end to my overthinking. With that in mind, I doze off for the rest of the trip.

Once the jet is down, I'm starting to gather my things when I hear Spencer rushing out, saying goodbye to everyone.

Disappointed and frustrated, I leave the tarmac.

Maybe a full night of sleep in my bed isn't a bad plan after all.

But be that as it may, fuck you, Spencer Reid.

-

As if all that had happened wasn't enough, when I got to the parking lot, my car fucking didn't start. I knew I had to get it checked before.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

That delayed my arrival home for another 45 minutes.

Now, disappointed, frustrated, and with no car, I slam the door shut. The apartment is pitch black, and I have no energy to flick the lights on, so I drag myself to the bedroom. When I open the door, a yelp escapes my mouth when I see a silhouette of a man sitting in the chair I have in one corner.

I'm about to reach for my gun when the bedside lamp flicks on, and the scare turns to confusion when I see Spencer sitting there.

"What the fuck!"

"Hi," he says as if he hadn't almost scared me to death two seconds ago.

"Spencer! What are you doing here?" My voice sounds harsher than I intended, but Spencer brushes it off quickly.

"Waiting for you," he says matter-of-factly.

I'm officially confused. We were together an hour ago? He left without saying anything.

"I don't understand. The way you left the jet in such a hurry, I thought I was the last person you wanted to be with."

My words come out resentful, but I can't help it. Spencer's eyes soften. I averted his gaze as I dropped my go-bag, unholst my gun to set it on the safe, and sat at the end of the bed to remove my boots.

"Hey, don't say that. Of course, I want to be with you," Spencer says, standing from the seat and kneeling to help me remove my boots.

"I'm sorry, but it didn't show that way. You avoided me all week!"

Great, now I sound like I'm making a tantrum.

From his place where he knelt on the floor, his eyes met mine, and I don't know why suddenly I felt a shudder running down my spine.

"Sweetheart, you know we were working, weren't we?"

That condescending tone escaping Spencer's lips? It is something unexpected. But why does it make me kind of nervous? It's a type of nervousness that gives me butterflies in my stomach.

"I know! But- but then in the jet. And you left."

Why am I babbling? Since when did Spencer have looked at me with those piercing eyes?

He stands and offers me a hand to help me to do the same.

"Is my girl upset?" He asks when we are both upright.

'My girl'? That's new. Spencer always calls me by my name, a short version of it, or beautiful, or sweetheart. But thinking about it, 'my girl' doesn't sound bad at all.

"No! I'm not-"

"Oh yes, you are. Look, I wanted to prepare a surprise for you tonight, so I left in a hurry. I was thinking about a bubble bath, dinner, wine, and a movie. I even had the table done with candles ready to lit," he says nonchalantly, and I feel silly for thinking the worst scenarios all week.

"Oh," is the only thing escaping my lips.

"But now, thinking about it, maybe you don't deserve it. Not if you're questioning me like this," Spencer shakes his head in fake - I hope - disappointment.

Okay. Stop right there. What the hell is going on here? Why is Spencer talking like that? About me as 'not deserving' something? What's next? That I'm a naughty girl? - Uhm, I wonder how it could be hearing those words from his lips.-

"What? Why I-"

"Come here," he requests as now he is the one who sits at the edge of the bed and pats the spot in his lap. It doesn't sound too commanding, but sure as hell, I don't need anything more to comply. I need to know where this is heading.

As I'm at Spencer's reach, he pulls me by my wrist to land on his lap while his other hand cradles my face.

"Tell me, uh? Why are you upset?"

His voice drips like honey, and I start to feel hot here.

"I- I don't know. I just missed you, I guess."

"You guess?" He arches a questioning eyebrow.

"Yes. I mean, I do know. I have missed you," I confess, defeated. Oh yeah, now I'm the needy one.

"It helps if I say I have missed you, too?" he says, caressing my cheek tenderly with his knuckles. "I have seen you tense all week; that's why I thought I could do something special for you tonight."

I close my eyes, and for the first time tonight, I let myself enjoy Spencer's embrace.

I exhale a heavy breath as I get lost in his arms.

When I open my eyes, Spencer's are fixed on mine. But his look is not as sweet or reverent as it usually is when we are like this. No, this one is dark and raw. His pupils are fully dilated, and I feel like the breath leaves my lungs.

"Spencer-" I barely mumble.

"I know," he whispers, moving one hand to cradle my neck and bring my lips to his.

Oh God, what I have been craving for days is finally happening, and I can't stress enough how happy I am.

The kiss starts slow and sensual. But not far from that, it gets needy and messy, charged with all the pent-up emotions from the past days. If I had any doubt about Spencer's distance in the last week, this kiss quickly eased my anxiety.

My fingers go to undo the buttons of his button-up, but Spencer stops me with one of his hands, grabbing both of my wrists.

Why didn't I notice before how big and strong his hands are compared to mine? I mean, I always admired his long and deftly fingers, but this? Wow. It's new territory.

"But I want to touch you," I pout when he keeps hold of my wrists in his hand. The cocky bastard raises an eyebrow, contemplating my request.

"You will have to be patient this time and earn it, darling," he says casually, and as my eyes go wide, my jaw goes slack. These words have never come out of Spencer's mouth before. But why am I suddenly starting to feel hotter and more worked up? I blame it on sex abstinence.

"Please, I have missed you so much," I insist, trying to escape his grip to get what I want: undress him. But he doesn't budge, tsking his tongue.

"I already told you. You need to earn it. To my knowledge, only good girls get what they want, and I don't think I'm wrong, do I?"

Jesus Christ! I had never heard Spencer say 'good girl' before, and I'm sure now I'll be addicted to hearing it every chance I get.

"Spencer, please. I'll do anything. I promise. I want to be a good girl. I want to be your good girl."

Spencer's smirk tells me he likes my response, and I'm not at any ounce ashamed of sounding desperate.

He maneuvers me so that I am now on my back on the mattress. I watch his every move intently, and I get lost in his gaze, which screams lust and desire.

He kneels between my spread legs, staring at me intently as his hands move to the edges of my blouse. Just when I think he's going to work on unbuttoning it, he grabs it and rips it open.

A yelp escapes my lips at the raw sound and the view of buttons flying. Spencer doesn't seem fazed by his display of caveman style. And me? I won't mind if he rips all my clothes right now. His hands go to caress my breasts over the fabric of my bra. And then pull it down to free the skin. The cool air quickly stiffens my nipples.

Spencer leans down to suck one of them, twirling the other one with his fingers. A moan escapes my lips at the pleasure his touch is giving me.

"You like that, uh?" he mumbles, still with his mouth sucking and lapping.

"Yes!" I say, as my hands fly to his hair so I can ground myself in something.

After giving enough attention to both of my nipples, he helps me to get rid of the fabric of the ruined blouse and my bra. Now his mouth is sucking a hickey under my jaw, and I feel like I can faint of how aroused I am. One of his hands goes south and stills at the button of my work pants. His breath is hot in my ear.

"I'm going to take care of you. If I do something you don't like, just say it, okay?"

That's a sliver of the Spencer I know, and I can't even think of something this man can do to me that I wouldn't like.

"Okay," I manage to blurt when his fingers work on my pants, leaving me clad only in my panties in a matter of seconds.

Under his intense gaze, I feel exposed, but I also feel safe. There is no place where I would rather be right now.

"You're gorgeous. You know that?" Spencer says, trailing feather touches on my skin aflame with desire. "You don't know what you do to me, do you? I barely can control myself," he continues his praises, thumbs toying with the waistband of my panties.

I'm about to combust.

"Spencer, please."

"What is it, my girl?" he asks, kissing my neck as his fingers slide down my legs, removing the soaked fabric that used to cover my most intimate part.

"I - I need more."

"Are you already desperate for me?"

I can feel how his fingers trace soft patterns in the skin between my thighs, explicitly avoiding the spot where I need him the most.

"Yes! I am. I - I can't-"

I don't even care if I sound coherent at this point. I'm already so turned on and desperate that I can't be bothered by my lack of speech. Spencer still doesn't budge, though.

"I know you want to beg. And I know you can do better than that."

Oh God. I don't know how Spencer's words manage to make me more aroused, but they do.

"I need you," I croak, eyes pleading him to take me. I can feel his fingers ghosting my throbbing clit.

"I need you, sir. Please. You can use me whatever you want, but please, touch me!"

What the fuck? I just called Spencer' sir' and offered my body explicitly to him to use. And the bastard doesn't even flinch? Who is this guy in full control, and who am I acting like a pathetic submissive?

I don't have the answers, but honestly, I don't care. Did he want me to beg? If this isn't begging, I don't know what it is.

"I know you do, baby. Do you think I didn't notice how needy you have been all week? How have you tried to get my attention all these days?" Spencer's voice drops almost two octaves as his finger finally starts rubbing circles on my clit.

Just feeling his touch makes me whimper pathetically.

His lips ghost in my ear, and I can feel his breath heating the spot before his teeth nibble my earlobe.

A mewl leaves my mouth, and if I wasn't soaked before - which I was - now I'm dripping.

"Tell me, this is what you wanted?" His voice is commanding but feels like honey leaking on my body.

"Yes! Please, don't stop."

His movements are deliberate and precise, and when he buries a finger into my core, I can feel the coil in the pit of my lower belly beginning to form. My moans increase in number and volume.

"So needy, my sweet girl. Like that? That's how you want me to touch you?" Spencer coo as he watches me tremble under his touch, adding a new finger to fuck me.

His ministrations continue, but his free hand moves slowly from my cheek down to my neck, caressing the exposed skin with his thumb.

"Or maybe you want me to touch you like this?"

A mewl escapes my lips when he poses his open palm over my throat, not squeezing but seizing how much of my neck he would be able to cover with his huge hand.

"Yes! Please, do it. Please Spencer," I babble, feeling my orgasm closer and closer. And he complies. Applying the minimal pressure in my throat is enough to highlight all of my senses. That, plus the way his ring and middle finger pound in and out of me and his thumb toy with my clit at the same time, sends me to the edge.

"Spencer!" I scream as my climax washes over me.

I don't remember having an orgasm like this in a long time. My vision blurs and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of pleasure that I don't want to come down from. I can hear Spencer's encouraging words in the distance as he helps me ride my orgasm.

"That's it, my girl. You did so good for me. See how good I can make you feel?"

With hooded eyes, I see Spencer sucking clean the fingers that were fucking me seconds ago.

"You taste amazing. I'll never get tired of it," Spencer says, with a satisfied grin on his face.

Still dizzy, I gesture for him to come closer. When he does, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for the most passionate kiss my current post-orgasmic state will allow. I can taste myself on his tongue, and it is like my sex drive reminds me I want more. I need more.

"Please, fuck me," I mumble between kisses, and I can feel the smirk forming on his lips.

"I just did that," he states when we part from the kiss. "Are you being ungrateful?" Is he joking? I hope he does, but I won't take the chance of not having his dick in me tonight.

"No, baby. I'm thankful for the way you have touched me tonight, but I want you to feel good, too."

Spencer looks at me with a raised eyebrow.

"Is that so? Are you willing to do what I want to make me feel good? It's not only for your benefict?"

"Yes! Whatever you want. I'm yours. Take me the way you want to do it. Whatever you want to give me."

I don't know at what moment I became this kind of submissive, but if I have to beg again to have Spencer inside me, I will do it without complaining. And considering he's still fully clothed, I don't know what kind of plan he has right now.

"On your elbows and knees."

It's simple, and the moment the words leave his mouth, I move quickly to obey.

Unfortunately, from this position, I can't see Spencer, but I can hear him undressing. When I listen to him undoing his belt buckle, I have to do everything in my power not to rub my thighs together in search of some friction. And Spencer notices.

"I can bet you're dripping again. Don't you?"

The anticipation is killing me. When I feel the mattress dip with Spencer's weight, I can't stop the mewl that leaves my lips. It doesn't help when he presses his body to mine, and I can feel his hard cock pressing my ass.

"Can you feel what you do to me? I want to fuck you so bad. I want to ruin this pussy." Spencer's voice is husky and low, almost predatory, and I can't wait to feel him.

While we've used dirty talk before, I think this is the first time I can feel it coming naturally from Spencer. I'm usually the one with the filthy mouth.

When I feel his tip teasing my entrance, I instinctively push my ass back, gaining a laugh from Spencer.

"Be patient, once inside there is no coming back." Before I can say anything in reply, I feel him push his cock between my folds, and the stretching is painfully delicious.

"Oh, fuck!" I yelp as I hear Spencer hissing when he bottoms it out. He is still there, grabbing my hips to keep me from moving.

"So warm. So tight. Made for me," he mumbles, leaning to kiss my shoulder blades.

"Just for you, it was made for you," I agree, in a new state of pleasure and urging him to move. Spencer pulls back almost completely, only to thrust hard again, setting a slow but deep pace.

"That's my girl, taking everything I give her. You wanted this, didn't you? I know you do. Fuck! So good for me."

Another thing I'm not used to is Spencer being a talker during sex. I mean, yeah, he's very vocal, moaning, whining, cursing, and so am I, but his words are now taking me there faster than I expected.

"Spencer, yes! Don't stop, please!"

"I won't, baby, I won't. Not when this pussy tighen me like this."

His pace quickens, and in the room, you can only hear the sinful sounds of skin hitting skin, our moans, and the dirty words escaping Spencer's mouth.

"Spencer, please, harder," I beg to him. I don't know why, but I want to go to my limit, and I trust Spencer. I need it. He's quick to deliver, and with every thrust, I'm entering into a new space of ecstasy.

He is pounding me harder, and my broken moans are testimony to the brutal pace he leads. I can feel him hitting in all the right places.

"Like that?" He asks, panting in my ear.

"Y-yes."

"I can't hear you, darling," the bastard demands, not faltering his thrusts.

"Yes! Fuck, yes! Like that! Oh, fuck-"

My voice cracks when I feel a sharp smack in my ass.

And I can't stress enough how good it feels and how it helps the ball forming in my lower belly to grow.

"What a sight. You should see how my fingers are red imprinted on your skin," Spencer says, amazed with his doing, not ever slowing his thrusts, and I can feel closer to a new earth-shattering orgasm.

"We need to even the score, right baby?" I can't even catch what he's talking about when I feel a new smack in my other ass-cheek. And then I lose it. I'm teetering to my end, and I need Spencer to fall with me.

"Spencer, I'm so close. Please, I need-"

"Are you going to come? That's what you're trying to tell me?"

"Yes! I need to cum, please-"

"I'm right there with you, my girl. Come on, cum on my cock. Show me how you fall apart because of me."

And I did. My orgasm crashes me like a freight train, screaming Spencer's name once and again until my throat goes dry. He keeps his pace, chasing his own end, and after three deep thrusts, he stills, and I feel him spilling inside of me, grunting as he does so. The feeling almost makes me cum again.

We stay in that position for a few moments, him inside me and trying to catch our breath. I feel like I'm out of this world, savoring the post-orgasmic euphoria of the best sex of my life.

Spencer pulls out, and I hiss at the loss of him. Carefully, he helps me turn over and lie down to rest my back on the mattress. I close my eyes, regulating my breathing, content and completely satisfied.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks me, but I'm still lost in the haze of pleasure. I can barely acknowledge the moment he goes to the bathroom to bring a warm cloth to clean me up.

"Uh? Yeah. Amazing." My words escape before I can process them, but I'm not lying. And I can feel the tons of endorphins running in my brain right now.

"Are you sure?" Spencer checks again. And because I'm more alert now, I can see his worried eyes.

A tired smile forms on my lips as I turn to the side and bring a hand to his cheek.

This man just has fucked me senseless, and now he sees me with those panicked eyes as if he had broken me. And maybe he did, but in the best way possible.

"I'm fine, Spencer. I'm more than fine, actually. That was something else," I confess, caressing his jaw. He lets out a breath of relief, and his cheeks turn a shade of pink.

"So you liked it?"

"Liked it? Did you just forget how I was screaming your name just minutes ago?" A satisfied chuckle escapes Spencer's lips. "But I need to know something," I prompt, propping myself on one elbow to have a better view of Spencer's face.

"What is it?"

"Where did this idea come from? It's not like you woke up one day and said, 'Next time, I'm going to choke her and spank her,' right?"

"Well, yeah. It wasn't that kind of spontaneous idea, even though I have thought about it before," Spencer looks at me sheepishly.

"Yeah? Well, then?"

"I heard you. Talking with the girls the other day at the BAU's kitchen." I narrow my eyes, trying to pinpoint the exact moment, and when recognition washes over me, my entire face flushes.

"Oh, God."

"I know I did wrong. It wasn't a conversation for me to hear, but you were talking about your mystery man, and I - I don't know, curiosity got the best of me."

Spencer looks apologetic, and I feel kind of embarrassed right now. It's funny for two people that minutes ago were fucking like there is no tomorrow.

"Don't apologize. It's my fault for spilling those kind of things in the office kitchen." Wait a minute. "From what part you heard?" Spencer purses his lips in thought.

"The part when you admitted seeing someone."

"So you heard when I said I was happy with our sex life, right?" He nods. "Why did you feel compelled to try something different, then? I'm not complaining at all, but I don't want you to feel obligated to do something because of me."

Spencer shakes his head. "I don't feel obligated. I wanted to. But can I ask why you didn't tell me what you liked before?"

That's a valid question, and I don't want to make him feel like I don't trust him because it is not like that.

"It's just- I mean, I love what we have. And I'm falling for you even more each day. I don't want to lose that, and I thought maybe I would have made you uncomfortable saying those things. I didn't want that."

Spencer's eyes glisten with warm understanding. How could I have doubted that he would comprehend? One of his hands goes to push back a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"I love what we have, too. And you won't lose this or me if you share those things with me. I know I'm not the best example of a sharing person, but I'm learning to do that with you. And I want you to be happy and satisfied in this relationship."

"I really am. Seriously!" I quickly reply. God forbid Spencer from thinking I'm not happy and satisfied because it's far from the truth.

"And I'm happy to hear that. But there is no harm in experiencing new things, right?" He says, caressing my cheek.

"You really mean it?" Spencer nods and chuckles.

"It's not an altruistic offer, you know? I pretty much enjoyed what we did tonight." Only remembering what we did minutes ago brings a wide grin to my face.

"Sure you did. Okay. We can keep trying things. One condition, though."

"Name it," Spencer states, opening his arm for me to scoot closer to his side, which I happily do.

"I want you to choose the next kink to explore," I request, glancing up at him to gauge his reaction.

With narrowed eyes, Spencer is contemplating his answer. After a few seconds, his lips turn into a mischievous smirk, and he looks back at me.

"Have you heard about temperature play?" he asks, and I immediately bit my lower lip in excitement.

What can I say? This man is full of surprises, and I'm the lucky one who will experience all of them. I can't wait.

------------------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers

[bunni-v1]

this is based off someone requesting a lighterxreader where lighter gets jealous of a plushie, since section 6 has a celeb status theyd probably have (they definitely most likely do) fanmerch of the members right? like those 10 or 20 cm plushies you can dress up that hoyo characters have? imagine reader having a wittle plushie asaba that accompanies reader when asabas not home and then he finds out and goes 🥺 eyes "do you really prefer that over the real thing🥺🥺👉👈?" JSKSDJLWBUXOWBXHSO

Asaba Harumasa is a pretty popular figure, being the only man in section 6, and just generally being pretty and flirty it’s no wonder he has tons of merch. The plushies were a new thing though! A bit… weird… if you asked him but he shrugged his shoulders and moved on. Nothing to write home about, fans were weird.

You, however, found the little thing interesting. It’s big yellow eyes and floppy fabric hair was just too cute to resist. The clothes were surprisingly well made, and you could take them off and change him into whatever you liked.

Harumasa had so many late nights at the office, and you didn’t seem him for such long stretches of the day… maybe getting one wouldn’t be so bad. So, you buy one (and some extra outfits <3) to keep yourself company throughout the day.

It weirdly helps you feel connected to him, even though it’s not him and he had no idea you had the little thing. Whenever you missed him, you pulled it out and cuddled up to it like it was the real thing. Like right now, curled up on the couch waiting for Harumasa to get home. Your eyes are heavy and your body heavy, the plush of the stuffie drawing you further into sleep until you hear the door open.

Harumasa drags his feet across the floor, not even taking his shoes off before he slumps over to the couch. You peer up at him with sleepy eyes, and his soften as he smiles. He makes his way around the couch to hug you, but pauses when he sees… himself…

Well, a little him, at least. He hadn’t even considered you might want one of those things — well, why would you? You had the real thing after all.

“What’s that?” He asks, pointing at it with disdain.

You cuddle into the thing, worsening his scowl, “‘S little you. I call him Harumasa Jr.”

You hold the plushie tight to your chest, and he feels something… unpleasant curl in his stomach. He didn’t like the idea of you finding a replacement for him, regardless of if the replacement was… literally him. It wasn’t the same. He should be the only thing you cuddle up to and coo at, not some… plushie.

He sits down next to you with a pout, pulling the plushie from your lap. He tries to ignore how you whine, then presses his head into your stomach with a defiant pout.

“What are you pouting for,” You sigh, running your fingers along his scalp.

He hums, burying his face into your thighs, “You don’t like that thing more than me, do you?”

You roll your eyes, petting his hair with all the love in the world. He was worse than a jealous cat. He was upset over a plushie of himself. Maybe it was played up, but you could tell it bothered him. So, sweetly, you lean down and press a kiss to his head.

“Of course not, there’s nothing in the world I like more than you, Haru. It’s just here for when I really miss you,” You assure in that honied tone he loves so much. His hands come around your waist, sliding under your butt for a cheeky squeeze. Another sigh falls from your lips, “Most jealous man I know.”

He chuckles against you, “Only for you, babe.”

You allow yourself to bask in the moment with him, really having missed him all day. You know he missed you too, just from how tightly his fingers are clenching each other. Like he doesn’t want to let you go.

But, of course, Harumasa cannot leave well enough alone, and he peers up at you with a smile, “Can we throw it out?”

“Absolutely not!”

[justluxy]

Beach Day

Tw: Smut, public

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

Imagine a boring afternoon at your boyfriend's house. Your boyfriend gets an idea to go to the beach with you to spend the afternoon. You and him start packing stuff for the beach like towels, clothes, snacks, and drinks. You guys get in the cat and starts driving to the beach while chatting about random stuff

Finally you and your boyfriend arrive to the beach and the first thing you both do is take off your shirts since it was hot and laid on the towel on the sand watching the water

But your boyfriend couldn't help but get turned on when he say you without your shirt and since there were only a few people in the place, he took you to a secluded area where no one could see you and him. He started kissing you while his hands were focused on taking your shorts and underwear off. Then he spit on his fingers and started fingering your hole while you moaned softly

Then you started riding his, his hands were on your hips helping you bounce on his thick and long cock while hearing the calming sound of the ocean waves and the air. You could feel his cock hitting your prostate at every thrust, you could feel like you could cum in any second

Then you changed positions, now you were laying on the towel while your boyfriend was on top of you, fucking you in missionary style while his hands were on your waist keeping you in place. Then before he cummed, he pulled out and came on your stomach while you also came. After the relaxing but good sex you and him went to swim and also to clean his and your cum from your stomach

[toorusmu]

Video Game Lover !! ☆

K. Kozume x Fem Reader, Dom! Reader, Sub! Kenma

You and Kenma were strictly friends through video games. You didn't play volleyball, and were much more outgoing than he was. At first glance, no one would assume you even knew each other.

In middle school, when you met, you were known as better friends, though you're arguably closer now. Back when you were shy, more reserved, you clung to him during social situations. Kenma himself was antisocial, usually hiding behind Kuroo in a similar fashion. But the way your smaller hands grasped at his T-shirt always gave him an Ego "Level up"

Now in highschool, youve both changed your looks, participate in separate clubs, are in different social groups.. But you both find a way to cling to each other. And he still uses video game terms and real life, you trying not to laugh or pretend you don't know what hes talking about.

Not many people knew the Popular girl was secretly a total nerd. Only her loser classmate who always stuck to her side during the school day. But now clinging to you, he felt something different grow and "Level up". No one else had you sat on their lap while you played My Hero Ultra Rumble. They weren't focusing their entire attention on not growing hard when you scratched his scalp from behind his gaming chair. They weren't making you mute your roblox voice chat all of a sudden because cock warning finally evolved into him desperately fucking up into you.

He watched you turn down every guy, many taller, more athletic, and popular than him. You two never had a talk about what you were, but he felt safe when you decided to not even open your locker on Valentine's day. You knew he already had something waiting for back at home anyway.

Sure, probably every guy who'd put a letter through the small vents of your locker would've taken you out, shower you with gifts or praise. Grasp at and beg for your affection. But all you wanted was your seat on your best friends lap, while running around the Date he made in Minecraft for you.

It was adorable, soft pallets, good shading and texturing. He was clearly a good player in every aspect. With multiple references to your favorite animes and interests, it had so much more intention and care than any confession you'd ever heard.

It was a long night, a lot of quiet laughter in the comfort of his room. And eventually, the cool night air of upcoming spring heated between your bodies.

Growing closer and closer, everytime you moved closer to his screen to observe the details, your hips grinded softly back further against him. Even though youd spent almost all day with him, it felt like only a few minutes had passed before he needed his hands on you.

His head fell onto your neck, his breath hitching as his hand tugged on your shirt. "Ohh ? Kenma ?" You snickered, it was impressive hed held back for this long in the first place, but teasing him was just too irresistible.

You hadn't even done anything, but his breath was heavy against your shoulder. If you weren't careful, goosebumps and butterflies would overtake you. "Please.." He whined, hips rolling softly against yours.

You hummed in pleasure, gentle movements warning you up from in-between your hips to your inner thighs. You could feel the distinct bump of his tip through his sport shorts, occasionally pressing directly against your clothed entrance. Like he was subconsciously trying to fuck you as soon as possible.

"You want it off ?" you looked down at at his pudding hair, sprawled across you. You pressed a much too intimate kiss to his head, his cock twitching further and his body gaining speed. "Thats okay, let me get it for you." You moved a bit from him, bringing your shirt, and soon after, bra off of your body and on the edge of his desk.

Your clothing hanging from the space he spent so much time in was driving him crazy. You were so close to him, even if you did this every time, it got hotter and hotter with every visit, and he craved it more and more every time you left.

"Fuck.. fuck yes.." He bit into your shoulder, his head instantly pressed back into it, his fingers now prodding and gripping at your bare breasts. His hips switched from circular movements to quicker vertical thrusts, as if he was directly fucking into you. "P..please can I fuck you ? Ill be good I just fuck.." He gasped, his breath unsteady and higher than usual. "Mmmph.. 'm getting close and.. i.. hah.. wanna finish inside f'you.."

You were starting to get way too worked up too, and you knew itd feel too good to resist if you had him in you. "Of course, baby" You giggled, although you acted cool, he knew from the dampening fabric that you needed him too. But fuck, he loved when you talked to him like that.

You pulled down your shorts and panties, hips momentarily lifted as he quickly shoved down his respective clothing. He was already hard as a rock, his tip slapped against you. "Ohh fuckk.." He gripped its base, quickly jerking it but not letting his hand rise further towards his tip. "Please oh my goddd.." His head fell back, his eyes screwed shut.

You put your hand over his, "Shh.. you're getting too loud.." Usually his parents would be out, but they were enjoying their personal Valentines dinner downstairs. You lowered yourself again, letting your sticky entrance press against his leaking tip.

"Haah.. Fuck!" He cried out, you werent even around him yet, just a touch was driving him crazy.

"Kenma..!" You whisper hushed, usually he only got this way after being properly fucked, and you could shut him up with making out. But from the position, it would hurt your neck way too much, and if you got up for even a second to go to the bed you think hed start actually sobbing.

"Pleaseplleasepleasee.." His chest was falling and rising rapidly against your back, and you suddenly wish you took the time to unclothe him.. wait.. clothe him ?

"Its okay Kenma, jus one sec.. need to make sure you dont get us caught." You took your soaked panties from all the grinded, and turned over slightly to press him into his mouth.

"Nghh..!!" His eyes rolled back. His tongue immediately swirled around it, and while you could tell he was totally moaning louder now, your underwear did the job and muffled it to a soft vibration.

"Good boy.. thats perfect." You heard him practically scream as you finally lowered your hips on him, the praise and your walls sinking into him inch by inch was just too much. The makeshift gag in his mouth turned him on further than he expected, his cock desperately twitching and leaking into you.

"P..pweaf.." He barely mumbled, you wouldn't have been able to tell what he was saying if he wasn't such a beggar.

You smiled, moving your hips up and down slowly, getting used to the stretch. He was making strings of odd but clearly pleased noises, a lot of "hnnngs.." and "mphs !"

After a minute, his hands left your breasts to your hips, his own starting to fuck back into yours. "Oh fuck.. Kenma..!" You were rushing to keep your voice down, but his thick length was forcing his veins against your walls, texture and tip against your gspot driving you fucking insane.

You could hear faint muffles of your name being repeated over and over, a telltale sign he was about to cum. "Come on, Kenma.. hah.. come for me already.."

"Nn..nnghhmmph..!" He whined out, his dick quickly thrusting in and out, drool swept down his chin as he spurted out thick ropes of cum against your cervix.

"S..so good.." You moaned lowly, fucked yourself slowly until you felt your resolve snap. You looked back at him, he looked so obedient, fucked out, with your panties as a gag. His hair was messier, eyes dazed with sweat dripping erotically down his face. It was too much, and before you knew it, you were clenching against him.

Eventually the messy, slobbery in more ways than one panties fell from his lips, and his quieter gasps became clearer to your ears.

Everything felt hazy and dizzy after how intense it was, maybe.. just sitting there like this for a moment longer would be okay.

[intomepang]

you look so good in my clothes

summary: boyfriend!patrick taking care of you after a party warning: bit of sexually suggestive content note: hope you’re all having a great start of the year!! this has been sitting in my drafts and idk if i like it but i decided to post it anyway. (barely proofread!)

“patrick,” you slurred. it’s already past midnight as patrick half-carried you into your apartment, his arm around your waist as you heavily leaned against him. you were now giggling uncontrollably, the complete opposite of the grumpy mood you had been in earlier when he had to drag you out of the party. 

you halted, tugging weakly on his shirt as he tried to guide you through your apartment. "wait, stop," you said, your giggles fading into an exaggeratedly serious expression. patrick looked down at you with a raised eyebrow. "what is it?" he asked.

“pat, i think you’re sooooo sexy when you play tennis.” a sweet grin spread across your face as you glanced up at him. “especially when you’re, like, into it,” you slurred, the words tumbling. “the way you—ugh, when you’re all serious and sweaty and it just…” you trailed off, burying your face in his shirt trying to relive the image in your head. “it kinda… no it really turns me on.” you admit, voice muffled. 

patrick shook his head, unable to hide the smirk creeping across his face. the way your words tumbled out, he found you irresistibly cute in moments like this.

you pulled away, looking up at him. “honestly... i think i’d let you fu–mmmph!” your words are cut short as patrick gently pressed his finger to your lips. “alright, that’s enough, baby.” he chuckled and took his finger off your lips to tap your nose, making you pout in response. you end up mumbling what you were trying to say, something about his racket, but he brushes it off.

“the things that come out of your mouth when you’re drunk…” he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with amusement as he guided you to the living room, careful not to let you stumble into the furniture. 

he tells you to sit still on the sofa and disappears into the kitchen. he returns with a glass of water, handing it to you “drink up before we get to bed.” you take a sip.

without another word he leads you to the room. the second the both of you enter, you wasted no time and collapsed onto the bed with a yawn, stretching your arms out. patrick stood by the end of the bed, arms folded across his chest, feeling a mixture of warmth and affection as he watched you.

"don’t sleep on me yet," he said. "i still gotta change you into something comfier.” 

patrick crouched down to take off your shoes first, with gentle movements to avoid shaking you too much. he straightened himself back up and glanced at your closet. he could've easily grabbed one of your oversized tees or pajamas, threw it on, and call it a night. instead, he turned toward the corner of the room where his overnight bag rested. it didn’t take long for him to find one of his favorite t-shirts and a pair of his boxers. 

"here," patrick murmured as he approached the bed with his clothes in hand, a little grin tugging at his lips. "let’s put these on, you'll be more comfortable." 

patrick pulled you to your feet and helped you out of your dress, his hands moving carefully as you giggled in a hazy bliss. he slid his boxers on you with the waistband resting snugly on your hips, and then pulled on his t-shirt, the fabric soft against your skin. as he tugged the shirt down, he took a moment to admire how you looked.

"you look so good in my clothes." patrick whispered, caressing his hand along your waist. he really wanted to have you right now.

"patrick," you whined with your cheeks flushed from more than just the alcohol. you quickly climbed into your bed and snuggled yourself into the blanket. "hurry up and change. i’m cold. get in bed with me already."

"alright, alright, bossy.” he chuckled, as he stepped away for a moment to change. he comes back and joins you under the covers, the bed dipping slightly with his weight. you immediately curled into his warmth, burying your face against his chest. he wrapped his arms around you securely, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your head. 

[aliwritex]

franco thoughts: 18+ car quickie 1.6k

“You should’ve stayed back, I know you get car sick”

“It’s fine, we’re not even moving anyway.”

You had been stuck in traffic for a while. You didn’t really know where you were but it was a busy avenue. The car was quiet, the radio barely audible and none of you saying much as the sky darkened above you. You had been sent to get some missing ingredients for dinner before the sun even set.

Now it was night, you hadn’t even gotten to the market yet and you were bored out of your mind. The only thing keeping you entertained was your shirtless boyfriend.

He was coming out of the pool when his dad threw the car keys at him, giving him the chore. You were kind of glad that he was such a stubborn person and didn’t listen to you telling him to change before getting in the car, he only threw a shirt over his shoulder instead.

You wish you could stop starring but the thing was, you had been staying with his family for the holidays so alone time was a tad more difficult. You had tried the first night you got there, of course, you missed each other and couldn’t stop your hands, but the next morning at breakfast you could see his family avoiding eye contact — so there was no way you’d do that again. But it had been more than a week now, and God, you were horny.

You couldn’t help but reach out for his thigh, he looked down at your hand and covered with his.

“You okay?”

He watched you nod and moved his hand away from yours after a squeeze. He didn’t get it. You removed your hand from his thigh and took it to your shirt undoing the first few buttons, exposing your chest and the bikini top that barely covered it. It took him a while to notice but when he did his eyes rolled back into his head.

“What are you doing?”

“Just getting comfortable, looks like we’re gonna be here a while.”

You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, but not without your hand pressing hard on his thigh. When you sat back on your seat he was glaring at you.

Another idea popped in your head when you realized the first wasn’t working so well. Your hands dropped to your jean shorts, slowly unbuttoning them. Franco started watching you, eyes on your body as you struggled to get out of your shorts.

You heard him curse something in Spanish and it only made you smile as he moved the car a couple meters forwards. You spread your legs open on his passenger seat, only your bathing suit covering your bottom half. You caught him shaking his head from the corner of your eye as your fingers danced around your clothed middle.

“You’re fucking impossible” he muttered

“C’mon, Franco, let me touch you, I miss you so much” you practically whined “please?”

He didn’t say anything at first, just turned back to the road, relaxing and spreading his legs wider.

“You see that street over there?” he pointed through the glass “I’ll stop there to sort you out.”

“If you can last till we get there” you teased, dipping your hand into his shorts before he could even stop you.

He was starting to get hard, you could feel him becoming warmer and stiffer in your hand. His entire body tensed up for a second before he relaxed again. Franco shook his head when you started massaging him. Your palm ran up and down his shaft till you felt him completely hard in your hand, soft sighs leaving his lips.

You pulled away just to move in your seat, settling into a position where you could simply bend over the center console and face his crotch.

"Mi amor, please"

"Please, what?" you teased, lifting yourself till your lips where brushing his cheek, "want me to stop? Just say the word, yeah?" you kissed his face as your hand pulled him out of his shorts, making his eyes screw shut, still not saying anything. "Right, just enjoy, love"

You bent over again, your lips meeting his tip in a quick kiss before you spit on him. He groaned as you paused, waiting for the spit to drip down his shaft. A few more licks, quick kisses and soft touches till you sat back in your seat, leaving Franco confused, looking at you.

"The traffic lights, Franco" you told him, nonchalantly. He drove the car for a couple more meters before turning back to you. "I need you to concentrate, you don't wanna hit anyone in this state, do you?"

Your hand dropped to his lap again, grabbing him.

The spit helped as you started moving your hand up and down. You were being extremely slow with your movements, partly to tease him and partly so he would last.

Your hand worked skillfully around him, squeezing, thumb pressing his veins and his tip, making curses and moans fall from his lips. You tried to stop when he had to drive but it just made him more desperate.

"Don't cum yet, I really need you." you whispered to his cheek.

He nodded, flicking the turning signal on. The noise driving you insane for the next couple of minutes till he finally reached the street. He struggled to turn, almost scraping the car in front but nothing was gonna stop him. He parked behind a building, immediately pulling the handbrake.

"Come here" he whispered, pulling the seat back.

You chuckled as you climbed over him, sitting on his thighs. He finally felt your lips on his, soft and warm as they moved together in a rushed kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth as his hand dropped to your middle.

You felt his fingers tug your bikini to the side, easily sliding between your wet folds. A sigh left your lips when they pressed against your clit, making you pull away from the kiss. He smiled at your reaction and let his lips drag down the side of your face, meeting your neck.

Franco kissed and nibbled at your neck as you teased each other with your hands, sighs and soft moans leaving your mouths as you did.

“Fran, please” you whined, both of your hands going to his hair, tugging on it.

He nodded and pulled on the side tie of your bikini, making it come undone. Franco didn’t even bother with the other side, he just lifted your hips up and pushed you down on him. Satisfied groans left both of your mouths, your foreheads meeting.

“Ai, mi amor, missed this so much” he whispered, diving his hand into your hair to pull you into a kiss.

Your hands rested on his bare chest as you started moving. His own hand running up your waist to tug your bikini top out of his way. You moaned into his mouth when his cold palm met your breast, your nipples hardening because of the temperature.

Your hips moved against his in a slow rhythm, enjoying the drag of his skin against your clit as he kissed you. That was till he dropped both of his hands to your hips, guiding them up and down. Franco then wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you close to him.

He bounced his legs to help you move on him. His chin rested on your chest as he looked up at you, watching your face twist in pleasure. He couldn’t care less about his pleasure as he saw you use his body for your own.

You were shocked as you felt the warmth of pleasure grown inside of you so early but when your boyfriend took his hand between your bodies to circle at your clit there was no doubt that your orgasm was creeping up on you. Your walls were clenching around his cock as every single muscle in your body tensed up. His legs still bouncing to work you entirely as you reached your high.

He watched and felt all the little reactions your body had as you moaned. Your hands closed into fists on his hair, making him groan at the sting. Franco almost spilled inside you as you convulsed around him but he managed to ground himself, waiting for you to come down and finally pull out.

You smiled and kissed him, sitting back in his thighs. “You could’ve come inside, you know I don’t mind” you whispered to his neck, still lost in the bliss of your orgasm.

“No, I wanted to cum in your mouth, don’t want you to be a mess while we shop”

You smirked and moved away from him, settling back on your seat before bending over to take him in your mouth. He tasted like you when you first took him in so you made sure to clean him off, licking and sucking away all your wetness from him. His hand dropped to your hair, pulling it away from your face before he bucked his hips into your mouth, holding you in place as he shot ropes of cum.

A Spanish curse left his lips in a sigh as he finished and finally let go of you. “‘m sorry”

“You don’t need to apologize, love.” you pecked his cheek, “if I wanted you to stop you would’ve known.”

“You okay, though?” he asked as he tucked himself away.

“Perfect, love” you gave him a peck on the cheek.

You fixed your clothes as he took off and it turned out, there was a better way to the store, you were there in no time.

[thewretchednight]

Long Time No See.

Dom!Jinx x Fem!Piltie!Virgin!Reader! Ft. Pow’ Pow

Warnings: Gun fucking, Home invasion, Name calling (Bitch,Esc), mentions of stalking, Slight choking, over stimulation, Squirting, oral. I believe that’s it. If there’s anything thing else feel free to inform me. (Also only proof read twice so sorry for any mistakes thank you @tobyslover for proofreading and fixing it for me.)

Men and minors DNI

You sat in your chair staring at the notes on your desk. You were tinkering around with a new idea that popped into your head. It was fairly late and to be honest with your self you were just sitting and spacing out.

To be fair with yourself needed some time for your brain to just shut down. The sound of the clanging of your window made you jump to attention. Metal fell onto the marble floor with a clang. You stood wiping your eyes nearly tripping over your own feet. 

‘ Whatsa’ firein bullet? ‘ The familiar voice of Jinx coming from the window behind your seat. ‘ Fuck- You look absolutely wiped out or your wits pumpkin. ‘ She took steady strides towards your form letting out a gentle giggle. 

‘ What do you need Jinx… ‘ you huffed glaring at her, giving her a wave of your hand in annoyance.

She paused in her tracks lifting her hands in defense, giving you a mock pout before grinning letting out a hum. She let her arms fall to her sides her stature loose.

‘ Whatsa’ wrong mouse? ‘ She smiled moving closer to you. Gently placing a hand on your chest she pushed you. Stumbling back you fell into your chair. You looked up at her sneering, once you faced up at her your face softened your eyebrows furrowing. Her eyes were no longer blue you noticed. But now they were pink, you could swear they were glowing. 

Swiftly sitting down in your lap hands placed on your shoulders lazily, she spun the chair gently picking something off your clothing. ‘‘ Whats the matter with your eyes-?’ You asked examining her. 

She’s different…

‘ It’s been four years and all you can say is what’s wrong with my eyes? ‘ she snapped eyebrows furrowing her eyes flickering with annoyance and something else…. Impatience? You quickly changed the subject shifting under her uncomfortably ‘ What do you want Jinx?- ‘ you snapped. 

‘ What? Can’t I not visit anymore? ‘ cocking her head to the side her cheek nearly touching her shoulder. 

‘ You’ve never visited befo- how do you know where I lived?- ‘ you questioned looking up at her then looking at the window which she broke, Was she stalking you?  ‘ Never mind that. Why are you here? What do you want. ‘ you mumbled looking back up at her red’violet eyes.

‘ Mmm~ Attention? ‘ she giggled out. You grumbled ‘ Couldn’t you see I was in the middle of something bitch? ‘ You grabbed her wrist of the hand that was stroking your hair. She gave you a look of offense before rolling her eyes. 

‘ The middle of you drooling onto your little scribbles? Yeah. I found it less important than me though. ‘ She grinned. The shine of the metal and the barrel of the gun she sneaked out of its halter made you go cold. The metal connected with your skull making you freeze at the contact. You looked up at her eyes wide. She mocked your expression laughing maniacally after leaning back daring to fall off your lap. ‘ Now let go of my hand toots. ‘ You fallowed the command letting go of the appendage. ‘ good girl! ‘ she pinched your cheek letting the hand that held the gun fall to her side.  

‘ I love when you think you’re all tuff n all,  till I bring out the toys. Honestly so cute!~ ‘ she squealed 

‘ Look at you now~ not so tuff after all, Huh mouse? ‘ she mocked.

‘ I could give you over to the enforcers. After All you were the one whom bombed the high council. ‘ you warned gritting your teeth. ‘ Oh…~ but you can’t… can you? ‘ she placed the barrel under your chin cocking the gun. You shut your eyes tightly. You shook your head swallowing thickly. Jinx leaned into your ear ‘ Thought so. ‘ 

The boom of the gun made your ears ring the shattering of glass fallowing right after. You shuttered gently looking up at her. She grinned placing the gun on your desk, you glanced at the metal, of course Jinx saw your eyes dart over to the weapon. She laughed humming ‘ Mmmh~ No I don’t think so sweetheart. ‘  she smiled waving her pointer in-front of your face. 

She flipped herself so she was sitting longways on your lap letting her legs hang off the arms of the chair. She picked up one of your notes like it was a rotten banana peel before taking her other hand ripping it In half. ‘ oops~ hope this wasn’t important. ‘ she smiled up at you of which you returned with a scowl. 

‘ Ughhhhh~ ‘ she grumbled ‘ Your so boring. ‘ she pouted throwing the paper into the air. She stood up from your lap back faced to you. She rose her arms in the air stretching with a gentle groan. You took your chance grabbing the gun on your desk. You stood up swiftly, you grabbing one of her braids yanking her back into you. 

Putting her into a headlock you held the gun to her head. She tilted her head back a wicked grin spreading across her face. You gave her a disgusted look wrinkling your nose. She reached a hand up gently caressing your cheek gently. You froze for a second before pressing the gun harder into her skull.  She smiled softly running her hand through your hair digging her nails into it. 

‘ You still love me~ Doncha’ bullet? ‘ she whispered. 

You hated her so much. You thought she was dead. But yet… she was right… you did still love her. 

‘ It’s been a four years.. A four Powder. ‘ you mumbled. 

‘ Mm- sorry, mmbut I was kinda busy bein’ undercover, n all‘ she said shrugging. ‘ You’re really that self centered… ‘ you scoffed pushing her away from you strolling over to your bed sitting down on the edge. She pouted fallowing you gently crawling back onto your lap straddling it. ‘ I didn’t know if you were even alive.. ‘ you mumbled. ‘ I’m here now though~ ‘ she cooed lifting your chin.  

‘ you don’t understand- ‘ you started yet quickly cut of with a pair of lips swallowing your protest. 

‘ You just don’t shut up huh- ‘ she muttered against your lips ‘ blah blah blah- something I’m selfish m’ right? ‘ she huffed. ‘ well- ‘ you mumbled ‘ Your quite the talker yourself there Pow- ‘ 

Before completing your sentence again she kissed you again, hungrier this time, her petite hands wrapped around your neck her thumbs gently pushing into the cushion of your neck slightly blocking your airway. 

Immediately you choked on your own spit grabbing her arms breaking her kiss your wide eyes staring at her wild ones. ‘ What the matter mouse? It’s Mkay. I won’t kill ya or any thing. ‘ she let go with one hand gently stroking your hair. 

‘ Lemme make it up to ya toots~ ‘ she scooted closer to you in your lap quite literally closing any space you had left. 

You opened your mouth to speak placing a hand on her shoulder. ‘ Ahah- Shhh~ ‘ she  whispered holding your chin forcing you to look up at her. She shoved her lips against yours once more heated that time. 

She pushed you back against the mattress keeping her hand on your chest gripping your loose shirt. Her Red-Violet eyes looked nearly luminous. She trapped you between her and the mattress,  her lips attacked the flesh of your neck teeth nipping your sensitive skin. 

‘ Fuck-~ ‘ you whimpered weakly under her, you reached to wrap your hand around her neck. Soon as your thumb grazed over her clavicle the cold metal of her pistol met with your head again. 

‘ Mmm~ I don’t think so sweetheart~. ‘ she cooed. You’ve already long forgot about that pistol that you left at your side as soon as she crawled into your lap. 

‘ Off~ ‘ she nudged your hand with the gun. You obeyed quickly moving your hands to her sides. ‘ Much better Pumpkin~ ‘ she murmured laying the pistol down next to your head. 

Her hands groped your body roughly, her mouth jumped between your lips and neck leaving sloppy marks and kissing leaving your skin coated in saliva.

‘ Hey-~ slow down… ‘ you whispered carefully caressing her face. She shoved your hand away her fingers slipping under your shirt starting to lift it till she realized it had buttons… 

You remembered her despising buttons, quoting " They take too long “ 

Before you could react. The dagger she kept sliced open the thin fabric you wore. Slipping it off your shoulders she threw the ruined garment aside, leaving you exposed at her will.

‘ Powder~.. ‘ you groaned her tongue licking around the outside of your breasts. 

She reached up placing a hand on your chest her classic chipped pink and blue nails scraping against your skin. Her lips moved up to your neck again her thumbs gently massaging your breasts. 

You reached up fumbling with the her crop top. She pulled away from your skin to help you out by finishing your work pulling the leather over her head throwing the garment aside.

Pulling her back in for a kiss. Your fingers explored the various scars and other marks all over her body, moving her hands up to her shoulders you gently pressed your fingertips into them earning a groan from her. 

‘ Awfully quiet for someone who talks a lot. ‘ you teased the female pulling one of her braids gently. ‘ Awfully needy for someone who wanted me gone a few minutes ago. ‘ she replied in her usual manner giving you a little giggle. ‘ Shut up. ‘ you hissed kissing her your hands pulling at her hair. Pulling away after a few seconds she sat up on her knees. She unbuckled the arsenal around her waist. Bullets, Little satchels filled with who knows what, a dagger or two. You watched her place it carefully on the floor. Her gaze immediately moved back over to you her fingers hooking under your pants. Fumbling with the drawstring. She un tied your loose knot that you made to keep the garment on your body. She toyed with the now loose waistband before yanking the garment down your legs in one swift motion, the warmth of the room hitting your skin pleasantly. 

She leaned down gently kissing your stomach ever so slightly moving down to kiss near the rim of your underwear, she pulled away slipping down her own pants. Your eyes devoured her form eyes trailing down her body. 

‘ Take a nice long look toots~ ‘  she smirked glancing down at your dumbfounded form.

‘ Anyone ever tell you how incredibly gorgeous you look? ‘ you muttered, watching her thumbs tease the elastic of her pants. ‘ M’ think your the first to tell me n’ those words ‘ she replied with a gentle smile slightly pulling down the cloth covering her hips. Giving you a judgmental look at how intensely you were staring at her hands pulling down her garment painfully slow. ‘ You’re basically drooling over me, Toots. ‘ she pointed out snapping you from your trance. 

‘ I- I surely am not…! ‘ you stammered getting defensive at her words. She laughed at your response discarding her pants at the moment tossing them to the side. She crawled on top of your body straddling you. You quickly shut your trap at the realization of her being on top of you. Her nails running down your body leaving red trails behind them as they reached your hips. ‘ Someone shy now? ‘ She mocked toying with the waistband of your underwear, which was, let’s be honest soaking at this point. The female cocked her head to the side her red violet eyes looking up at you hazily. ‘ No- ‘ you said defensively your eyebrows furrowing. ‘ Good!~ ‘ she squealed dragging your underwear down throwing them aside. 

You opened your mouth to follow up your "No" before you were quickly thrown off by her slinking down your body. Her hands pulling your legs apart to make space for her. Her lips connected with your heat, her tongue sloppily lapping up your juices. You stumbled on your words making a  rugged groan leave your lips. ‘ Fuck! ‘ you hissed out throwing your head back. Her hands grasped each your hips pulling you in closer. She plunged her tongue into your dripping hole. Quickly becoming dissatisfied with her method she latched onto your clit. Replacing two fingers into your hole instead of her tongue. 

Not a few more seconds passing by, you could feel your orgasm build like a ticking time bomb getting ready to explode. ‘ Mmgf- Jinx~ ‘ you grumbled your body tightening under her grasp. ‘ I’m gonna~.. ‘ You warned the female. She hummed in response, the vibrations of her hum making your toes curl like her fingers abusing your cunt. A few more thrusts of her digits has you coming undone within her tight grasp.

’ Jinx… Mmgh too much- ‘ you squirmed under her once she didn’t stop, becoming more and more overstimulated under her lips drinking you up. 

‘ You can handle it… ‘ she muttered into your cunt. The female pulled away wrapping her hand around the gun by your head. She opened the cartridge which held the bullets letting them fall onto the ground with clangs. 

‘ what are you doing?- ‘ you asked fear creeping into your words ‘ Mmmh~ making sure of your safety. ‘ you cocked a brow sitting up only to be shoved back down. Her hands shoved your legs apart the cold metal of the barrel brushing up against your folds.

Shuttering you looked up at her your hands gripping the sheets in anticipation. Her head cocked to the side examining the way your hips flinched. ‘ Are you- still? ‘ she grinned looking up at your embarrassed face cheeks a bright pink. She giggled gently, running the barrel up and down your slick gathering your juices.

She slipped partially of the gun into you making you scream feel like it was splitting you open. “ mmmh~P-Powder!~ ‘ you moaned arching your back off the bed. She leaned down biting down onto your neck harshly before kissing around the visible mark leaving a few others around the flesh of your throat, she then slipped a few more inches of the gun into your heat starting to thrust the hunk of metal in and out of your dripping hole

‘ How do you feel about pow’ pow taking you? Good?~ ‘ she mocked with a grin her nose grazing your ear gently as she took in your scent. Despite the pleasure and her arousing sentence, you were confused.

Who was pow’ pow?

You couldn’t worry yourself over it for long after you felt the knot start to untie in your abdomen. You glanced down at her seeing the bulge of the gun every time it re-entered your body. The sight threw you off the edge, your head lolled back simple moans escaping your lips. You felt light headed your vision blanked for a moment. You opened your eyes to see a pleased Jinx. Sittings on your lap licking the stinky wetness off her beloved gun. 

‘ Din’ know you could squirt there bullet ‘ she smiled tossing the gun to the side leaning down to kiss you deeply. ‘ If I’ve known that little tid-bit of information, I would’ve taken your little virgin ass sooner toots. ‘ 

‘ sorry I waited so long~ ‘ she cooed slipping off your limp body. She rolled you over on your side causing you to groan your chest still heaving. She slipped behind you wrapping her legs around your bare waist her smaller body pressing up against you. She pulled the blanket over you nuzzling into your back. 

‘ I’ve missed you Powder…. ‘ You mumbled, your voice hoarse. ‘ I've missed you too bullet… ‘ she whispered back kissing your neck ‘

Morning. Your body ached. You sat up hold your head a massive head ache burring your thinking process . You looked to your side seeing it empty. You frowned looking around the room in a haze finding no trace of the female. Disappointment washed over you as you moved to the edge of your bed your feet finding the cold marble of your floor. You stretched, you flinched at the sudden sting of pain that burned on your collar bone. You whined getting up quickly moving to your vanity you read " Property of JINX " carved into the skin of your flesh. 

You flushed at the thought of this. You looked around a little more grabbing the robe which hung on the chair in-front of your desk. You stared down at the desk for a moment. Your eyebrows furrowing all your books of research and papers of your project were all gone. Your heart sped up looking all over your apartment for said research to no avail. You froze infront of the mess of your bed realizing where they could’ve gone. Or whom they could’ve gone with. 

Jinx. 

Please do not steal, claim, or repost any of my work. Thank you

[evis-gossip]

His mission. Part 2: Wake up

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader

Categories: Light angst, fluff, mostly hurt/comfort, almost sick fic

Warnings: Protective! Ghost (almost possessive). Talk of commas and unconsciousness. No use of Y/N. Allusions to long hair and small body. Hospital setting. Ghostie’s in his feels, I fear. MC speaks briefly of loosing their family and so does Simon.

Word count: 1k words

A/N: Guess what? We’re back babes. I did a little more research for this one and so it’s a little longer. MC is explicitly female in this one, sorry babes. I acknowledge that so far it has been faily platonic, but it's gonna start getting romantic soon. I can't help but want to eat this man up.

Part 1: He had you - Masterlist

Simon hadn’t moved and inch away from your bed.

Johnny had just brought him a change of clothes, jeans and a jumper. Simple, but most importantly, not tactical gear. Nothing bulletproof, cammo, sharp or particularly practical. Just something comfortable that’d make you feel easier in his presence. In any other case he wouldn’t have cared about clothes, but he did now. He wanted to look presentable for when you finally woke up.

Believing you would wake up at any second, he made Soap stand watch over you while he changed in the hospital rest room. And when he came back at super speed, fully believing you must’ve woken up after the less than 5 minutes he was gone, he was utterly disappointed when you didn’t. He had your safety first thing in his mind, but he just wanted you to wake up already. He had so many questions. Like for starters, what was your name? He wanted to know everything about you, but he couldn’t know anything without even enough to utter your name and went right back to sleep, then that would be enough to get someone to find intel on you. At least then he could let you rest while he studied your history. They even tried your fingerprints. But no such luck.

He should be grateful the doctor hadn’t proclaimed you comatose, just unconscious, just resting. But to be honest with himself, he was getting greedy, he wanted more. He needed to know what the hell was it that made you feel so safe in his presence? Why did the old bloke feel so protective over you? Maybe because your delicate features made you look so angelic, or because you had felt so soft and small in his arms. But he forbade himself from thinking those thoughts over an unconscious woman he knew nothing about. He didn’t even know how old you were and still he wanted to haul you up in his arms.

Simon hadn’t slept in almost a week. Ever since he found you, he hadn’t slept a wink. He spent all that time looking into you face, inspecting every feature, every freckle. And he was a soldier, he could keep himself awake for 72, no caffeine, imagine with. But after all that time, sleep was starting to catch up with him. Your steady heart beat on the monitor was starting to lull him to sleep.

He didn’t notice his head falling to the side of the bed, nudging your knee, right next to your limp hand. Not the most comfortable position to fall asleep in. Delete Created with Sketch.

When he woke up, something was tickling his forehead. He opened his eyes with a groan to find out that something were your fingers lightly trying to graze his skin. He sat up so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. When he looked into your face, you’re eyelashes were fluttering so slightly he might as well have dreamed it. He wanted to caress you face gently and brush away the strands of hair, but instead took your fingers in his hand and traced your fingernails, willing you to wake up.

As much as he had eagerly will you to arise, he now had to face the reality of it. What if you didn’t even speak English? That was a very real possibility. And what if you had amnesia and didn’t even remember your name? He eagerly watched you wake up nonetheless, swallowing his own questions for later. Your head tilted to the side and your eyelids scrunched tighter one last time before you opened them with a whine.

“Hey luv” he smiled softly, not like the beast baring his teeth he’s used to being “Hmm, brit, eh?” “That’s right” he sighed looking at your face. That was the first thing he ever heard you say, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find your voice otherworldly. He’d do anything to keep you talking. You looked so peaceful and far better than how he found you, but he needed to know " What’s yer name, luv? Can’t find yer family wit’out it” You tilted your head to your side, avoiding the question completely, tears filling your water line “Sh sh sh” He cooed gently as got closer, cupping your face tenderly “Yer don’t gotta talk if yer ain’t ready” Simon looked into your eyes and felt himself fighting to stay above water instead of drowning in them. You whispered your name before breaking into tears. “They’re all gone. ‘Is only me now” You sobbed your heart out, leaning into his arms and Simon found himself finally gathering you up to his chest again. He kept repeating in his head that it was all to calm you down, but truth was, he enjoyed having you so close, even if you were crying hysterically.

He rubbed your back soothingly softly beckoning you to calm down. He understood. He didn’t have anyone else left either, but he was not about to let you feel the same way he did, not when you just woke up after being held hostage for god knows how long. He’d be there for you. When your crying slowed down to soft sniffles, he laid you down on the bed again, right before nurses flooded the room to check you up after waking up. A little more conscious than the previous time, you scurried away from them and crawled to the safety of Simon’s warm embrace. And he held you tight. It was conflicting really. To feel so protective over someone so vulnerable. Almost possessive. Like an incessant need to keep you all to himself.

He was glad you had woken up and started to talk. He was even more pleased when you fell back asleep clutching the fabric of his jumper, nuzzling into his chest again. This time he did not put you back in bed, but instead pulled the blanket over your small frame and sat back, letting you sleep peacefully in the cradle of his arms.

Thank you for reading and let me know what you think!!!! <333

[v1rtu4ld0ll]

ִ ࣪✮✦✮⋆˙ 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧

⌞♡⸝⸝ 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬⌝ Headcanon format, kissing , skinship, slightly suggestive ⌞♡⸝⸝ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭⌝ 0.87k

⌞♡⸝⸝ 𝐃𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐲'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞⌝ Officially making my bnd work debut with my baby MJ <3

✦ It all started when one of his close friends introduced you to him and he was just — WOW, flabbergasted , starstruck , jaw on the floor and pupils practically heart shaped as his eyes landed on you. He still kicks his feet in embarrassment whenever he remembers that day. He was so in awe that he was spilling his own drink on himself before he snapped out of it once he felt the cold sensation of ice cubes melting through his clothes which made him jump up from the seat and almost bump into a waitress — he made quite the first impression on you , at least he made you giggle with his clumsiness and asking if he was okay. Normally , he was a yapper , a born yapper but — when you talked to him , it was like he lost the ability to speak. His words were lost , his mouth dry and his wide puppy like eyes just staring at you while nodding slowly — your smile , your voice, your giggles, they pulled him into a trance.

✦ He thought he was being slick with hiding his growing feelings for you but — he was the only one who thought like that , he was not being slick at all. His eyes practically shooting hearts at you whenever you looked away or talked with him? Not slick at all. Him complimenting you every chance he gets and noticing every small change you did on yourself? Not slick at all. Him putting his head on your shoulder , hugging you longer than anyone else and always hesitating to let go? Not slick at all. You knew about his feelings for you and felt the same all along , you just found his behaviour endearing and wanted to see how long it takes for him to crack (he’s still sulky about that because , what do you mean the two of you could have dated earlier??). New years eve came up and he grasped that chance. You guys did a gathering with your friends to celebrate together and he mentally counted the seconds down before turning to look at you. He gently took your hands in his and decided to be straight forward , telling you that he had been liking you for some time all while slowly inching his face closer to you —  there were 5 seconds left and his eyes were scanning your face , he wanted to kiss you. The look you gave him spoke louder and clearer than anything you would have said and right as the clock hit midnight and the fireworks started to color the sky , his lips gently touched yours. The firework in the sky wasn’t the only firework happening, he still remembers the tingly feeling on his lips and in his stomach.

✦ Say bye bye to your personal space because your bubble is his bubble now too (unless you actually need space , then he’ll give it to you). He’ll be by your side 24/7 , the only exception will be when you need privacy. You’re going to the mall? Not without him , what if something happens to you. You want to take a nap? Sweet! He’ll lay down with you , wrap his arms around your body and take a nap with you. You’re walking around the apartment? He’ll trail after you like a lost puppy. You have an appointment ? He’ll come with you and accompany you. He just loves you so much that he wants to spend every single second with you , but he knows that that might make you feel suffocated and will ask you if it’s okay for you beforehand , he doesn’t want to force you to have him by your side.

✦ Absolutely loves kissing you. If his lips aren’t busy with yapping , his lips are busy with kissing you — be it your lips or your face or hands. He loves kissing your forehead, your cheek, your nose, your hand , the back of your hand, your tummy, your neck, your shoulder , your lips. He just loves to kiss every single inch of your body :( But , be prepared to have swollen lips. He starts with kissing your lips slowly and gently before pulling away a little with a lazy smirk on his face , whispering with his raspy voice how pretty you are before kissing you again but more sensually with his tongue pressing against your bottom lip to make you part your lips. Once parted , he’ll shiver and tighten the hold he has on you when your tongues touch. He will be left panting yet chasing your lips for more kisses.

✦ Chronic waist grabber, he can not keep his hands off of your waist. You guys are walking? Hand on your waist. You guys are cuddling? Hand under your shirt and holding onto your waist. You’re cooking? He’s standing behind you with his hand on your waist and looking over your shoulder. It has gotten to a point where he even reaches out and grabs your waist when he’s sleeping.

✦ Pampers you , a lot. He’ll feed you , massage your feet if they’re sore, run you a bath, cup your face and coo softly while peppering your face with kisses. He just wants to spoil his pretty girlfriend , if he could , he would give you the whole world.

𐔌 . ݁₊ ۶ৎ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⭑.ᐟ 𐦯 @hollyoongs

[multific]

Will and Heart

Marcus Acacius x Reader

Summary: Destined to marry the General, you try your best to give him a good impression. But there is something between the two of you that nothing will change, age.

Your home's atmosphere was calm yet busy, all of the servants were preparing for the evening.

As you wandered past your father’s study, a conversation caught your attention.

The door stood slightly ajar, enough for you to catch a small part of the conversation happening inside.

“She’s too young,” a familiar voice remarked with a firm tone. It was Marcus Acacius. “A girl, not yet a woman. She’s spirited, yes, but that alone won’t prepare her for the challenges ahead.”

You froze, your heart sinking at the weight of his words. And you thought he was happy to marry you. Because you certainly were.

“She has potential,” your father disagreed. “She only needs time and support.”

“Time is a luxury,” the General replied. “And support cannot replace maturity.”

Your fingers curled into fists as your pulse quickened with anger flowing through you, you walked away.

Immature? Incompetent?

His words stung and sparked a fire within you.

You were now determined to prove him wrong.

You found yourself in the training yard that afternoon.

Soldiers had left their training equipment for the midday meal, leaving the area quiet.

You picked up a wooden practice sword, it was unfamiliar but felt manageable.

The movements you tried were clumsy, mimicking what you had seen in passing. Since you never paid much attention to the men training there.

Each swing of the sword came with a whispered mantra: Prove him wrong.

“You’re holding it incorrectly,” a voice called from behind.

You were startled, turning to see a passing soldier glance at you before moving on.

Rude.

Biting your lip, you adjusted your grip and resumed your practice.

The strikes came faster now, your determination growing with each swing, though your arms began to ache.

A misstep sent you stumbling, your foot twisting awkwardly beneath you. You cried out as pain shot through your ankle, and the sword clattered uselessly to the ground.

“You’re lucky you didn’t break something,” a voice rumbled, this one unmistakable.

Your stomach sank as Marcus Acacius stepped into view.

His sharp gaze swept over you, assessing the damage.

“Was this supposed to impress me?” he asked, crouching beside you.

You looked away, embarrassed but unwilling to let him see your shame as the tears began to gather in your eyes.

“I wanted to show you I’m not just some naive girl,” you whispered.

He sighed, carefully lifting your ankle.

“And instead, you’ve proven why I had concerns.” His words hurt, but his touch was gentle, steadying you as he wrapped a cloth around your injury hoping to keep your ankle in place.

“I was trying to be strong,” you countered, wincing. “I wanted to show you I can handle more than you believe.”

"Strength isn’t about reckless displays,” he said quietly. “It’s about knowing your limits and recognizing when to ask for help.”

When his gaze met yours, it was no longer distant or dismissive.

“I underestimated you,” he admitted after a moment of silence. “You have more courage than I gave you credit for.”

Your breath caught, the sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

“I just wanted you to see me differently,” you said with a long sigh.

“I do,” he murmured, his expression shifting. The lines of his face softened as he studied you, something new flickering in his dark eyes. “You’re... remarkable.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, his unexpected words sending your heart racing.

Before you could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours.

“I see you now,” he said, his voice low and steady.

“Good,” you replied, a small smile breaking through. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips curved into a rare smile, and in that moment, you knew you had won far more than his respect.

You had captured his heart.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @brevlada24

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

"... I was under the impression that I would be fighting someone? Impress? What, am I supposed to court the hero while I'm at it?"

The sidekick groans, pulling at her hair with a grim expression. "Yeah. That's what this is about. You- are you not going to become the hero's archenemy?"

The villain looks confused. "I can't become the hero's archenemy if I don't- court them?"

Shaking her head, the sidekick pulls off the villain's shirt aggressively. He wanted to wear a T-shirt- a T-shirt! To his first official battle with the hero. It'll be broadcast, for heavens sake!

"It's not just about courting, you know. First impressions are important, and your impression was mediocre at best. We're lucky that the hero wants to fight you again at all! Your shoes were tacky, your hair dye was fading and your roots were grown out, and your shirt! Again with the shirts, boss. The presentation saved you, with the explosions and all. This time, I'm not letting you outside until you are fit to be the hero's archenemy."

He looks confused. His sidekick has all but stripped him to his tighty whiteys, and left to fetch clothes out of the closet. What was the point of stripping him if they were going to leave? The air is cold on his skin. He shivers.

Still in hearing range, the villain speaks loudly to continue the conversation. "None of that answered my question! Why am I courting the hero?"

"Well, it isn't really courting," the sidekick calls back. "Just, you have to earn your spot as his archenemy. Otherwise you'll get tossed around between hero associations, with no one in particular wanting to fight you. That's bad rep! Since he will be your first archenemy, you've gotta get it right. No second chances, they say."

The sidekick starts to manhandle her boss into new clothes, fashioning a grey button up with a bow collar and a black cloak, whose inside is lined with red velvet that has various swirly designs inside, giving the impression that the villain is backdropped in blood. His pants are dressy and fitted to his measurements, while the waistband goes higher than he's used to. It makes his waist look small.

"I don't know about this... shouldn't I look, you know, scary? I look like I'm going on a fancy date."

His sidekick mumbles something under their breath while tying his knee high boots. They have a minor heel on them, and he'd like the extra height if it weren't for the slender appearance of his calves. He works out, but this outfit smooths over his defined muscles, and even his dress shirt has loose sleeves. They round out his arms before connecting with his cuffs.

"Look, boss, don't you want to fight him? You told me that you really enjoyed your last encounter. You even licked the blood on your busted lip when you said it. This is just what you have to do if you want him to keep coming back to you!"

The villain grumbles, sliding his palms down his legs to search for some pockets, to rest his fidgety hands in, but to no avail.

"... Can I at least have pants with pockets?"

"Your coat has pockets, boss."

"It's not the same."

"Just deal with it for today. I'd have to redo the outfit if we changed the pants now. You have to be early, so that the hero can witness your silhouette behind the setting sun, with the blood red velvet accented by the orange rays of light. I tagged where to stand on your map; it'll look amazing."

"Right..."

His sidekick finishes lacing up the boots. It took far longer than his normal pairs of shoes. They feel stiffer too, because he hasn't broken them in yet.

"Listen boss, you can flirt as much as you want today-"

"Flirt?"

They continue, ignoring the question. His sidekick points accusingly at his face.

"-but you can't reveal my existence just yet. That isn't for until we get the laser finished. I have a whole plan." She waves her hand in the air, nonchalant. "He finds the laser, you confront him in the building, and when he's preparing to escape after you defeat him, I'll swoop in and knock him out. I'll help you interrogate him while he's tied up in the cell. It'll be a great entrance for me."

"So that's what that cell is for." He hadn't used it yet. She didn't tell him why they needed this facility specifically, only that it needed a place for a laser and a dungeon.

"Yes. I'm still wondering if we should make it comfy or not. Some heroes like the brutality of it, others prefer to keep it simple. Some even want to be taken care of in a fancy room with good food during their stay- they like the demeaning nature of it."

"Should I ask him?" He asks her sarcastically.

"No need. I'll watch the footage from your hidden camera. It's in your collar, the base of the bow? The fabric shouldn't flap around too much. I'll listen to your conversations and make the judgement myself."

"Okay..." the villain feels a little under qualified for his position. His 'sidekick' is starting to feel less like a sidekick and more like an idol manager. "So, if this goes wrong, does that mean I can't fight him again?"

"Basically. The hero corp will watch the footage of your confrontation from the TV or the hero's hidden cam, and decide if they'll assign him to your case. It's phrased in a more, 'hero,' type way, but that's what it means. There's a lot of work that goes into finding a hero-villain match, but I think you two really work together."

"... This feels like matchmaking. I'm not doing this to date him."

"Right."

"You don't sound like you believe me."

"I mean, obviously it'll take a while."

"What does that mean?"

"A bond between hero and villain can take some time to form, it's okay. The frustrating aspect of being defeated or succeeding too much can affect your relationship. If you really aren't a match, we can request a new hero from the committee."

"No, I feel like you're misunderstanding me. I like fighting him."

"So you have to dress nice! To see him again."

"This is not going to be that type of relationship. Fighting and thwarting only."

"Right. I know that. Anyway, you should get going."

"You-"

"If you're late you won't get to meet him again."

The villain runs to the door. "This conversation isn't over!"

"Have fun!"

The door to the dressing room slams closed. The sidekick hums, picking up their boss's previous outfit off the ground. They catch it on fire with their ability. When it is reduced to ashes, she cleans up the mess.

"... I wonder if the hero has a sidekick."

They leave the room to go watch the fight from the villain's hidden camera.

Prompt (466)

"That's what you're wearing to fight the hero?" the villain's sidekick asked skeptically.

The villain looked down at their clothes. "Yeah. Why?"

"Nothing, it's just. . .a little basic. You want to impress them, don't you?"