#on top of that fucking intrusive thoughts coming full force like just gifs me a fucking break i am begging at this point

[jisungsplatforms]

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x (afab) reader

Genre: NSFW! Smut yeye; established relationship

Warnings: Mature content! (DNI if uncomfortable or UNDERAGED); language, fingering (main thing of the fic if i’m being honest), slight power play, degradation, liiitle bit of a praise kink (but the degrading kink overpowers it lol), use of pet names/name calling, pornography(?)/erotic filming, mention of safe word (not actually used), squirting, idk what else. (no PIV this time boohoo)

“You-you wanna what?”

Seungmin’s face uncharacteristically burned a bright red; his confidence was suddenly nowhere to be seen. “I said, uh, is it okay if I filmed you getting...fingered?”

You could only stare at him in disbelief. You weren’t gonna lie, you were caught off guard by your boyfriend’s request. It wasn’t something you thought you would never hear him ask, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t like it. Seungmin chewed on the inside of his cheek out of nervousness.

“You know what? Nevermind. You probably didn’t like that. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, Y/n. Just forget it.”

Before he could turn away, you tugged his arm back. “No! It’s not that, it’s just...why?”

He turned his face away from you and muttered, “I just want something to remember you bye.” Ah yes, it was now comeback season again, so that means you have to surrender your boyfriend back to his band mates.

“Remember me bye?” you giggled, “You’re just gonna be staying at the dorms again, not leaving the country. You can still visit me anytime you want.”

Seungmin groaned in agitation. “But- ah, nevermind. Just tell me you don’t want to! I’m already embarrassed enough!”

You laughed at his innocent looking face, albeit the lewd request he was asking not even a minute ago. “No, no! I do want it! I just didn’t expect that you’d be the type to want this kind of stuff. It’s kind of hot actually.”

“So, is that a yes?” he muttered, still refusing to look at you in the eye. You tenderly grabbed his face to turn it to yours and kissed him.

“Please ruin me.”

With that, a switch in Seungmin was turned on. Literally. He roughly took your arm and dragged you to your room. The fire in his eyes and the way manhandled you was almost enough to make you cream yourself. Throwing the door open, he practically shoved you into the room, nearly making you stumble. He lets go of your arm to slam the door shut and walked to your closet to get a towel. Reaching for the pink one on top, he took it and laid it on your bed. You stayed in your place in front of the door, unsure of what to do, until Seungmin beckoned you.

“What’re you doing? Come on, pup.”

Pup. Your face burned at the name, feeling the stickiness between your legs increase. You waddled to your bed as Seungmin stacked both of your pillows on top of each other on the edge of your bed. He takes his phone- which was underneath one of the pillows he took- and propped it against them. He swiped left to activate the camera and switched to video mode. He turned you first before he started filming. “Are you sure?” His warm, chocolate eyes were soft and full of concern but his dominant aura was still very much present.

You responded by sitting on top of the towel and spreading your legs. “Want you to fuck me dumb with your fingers, master.” You provocatively rub your thighs, making sure Seungmin sees your thumb brushing against your core. His eyes flickered to your thumb before narrowing. He gave a dry chuckle while rolling his eyes.

“You nasty mutt.”

He quickly glanced at his phone to press the record button then attacked your lips. The forcefulness of the kiss made you gasp, which Seungmin used to his advantage by latching his left thumb onto your jaw and shoving his tongue into your mouth. You whimpered, feeling him suck on your tongue. Squirming, you tried scooting closer to Seungmin’s arm that was directly in front of your sopping core. Catching on to that, he moved his arm to roughly grip your hip, pushing it down. His other hand moved from your face to the back of your head, gripping your hair.

“Dirty slut. No need to be so impatient.”

You whined, tears starting to form in your eyes, as he moved away from you, thinking he was going to get some ribbons to tie you down. Instead, Seungmin pushed the pillows and phone back to get a better view of the both of you. “Be a good little whore and keep your eyes on the camera.” He moves back and sits behind you, trapping you between his long legs. His big hands rubbed the inside of your thighs the same way you did as he kisses your neck. You resist the urge to moan, biting your lip when his thumb pressed against your clit. Not hearing the reaction he craved for, he rolls your clit with more pressure and harshly bit the juncture of your shoulder, making you moan out loud.

Smiling, Seungmin licks and kisses his bite mark and rests his hands on the waistband of your little shorts. Feeling his fingers slightly move on your hips, you get his message and shimmy out of your shorts and panties, displaying your drenched core to the camera. Seungmin hummed at the sight of your pretty pink pussy on the screen. “Look how pretty my little mutt is,” he muttered more to himself. You still caught on to what he said and blushed, not saying anything. You sit back down and relax against his chest as he went back to rubbing your thighs. “See how pretty your pussy looks, whore? How you’re so wet that you can see it glistening on the screen?”

You squirmed and whined on his chest, coaxing his hands onto your pussy. Seungmin, however, didn’t like that, apparently. He slapped your thigh with one hand and grabbed your face with the other. “Now, now. Behave and master will give you what you want,” he said, his thumb rubbing your jaw. “Understood?”

You nodded maniacally. “Yes sir! I’m sorry! I’ll behave for master from now on! Promise!”

“Good.”

Seungmin softly pecked your lips then plunged two of his long fingers into your core, making you moan loudly from the sudden intrusion. Not giving you enough time to adjust, he immediately set a pace that was faster than usual. You gasped and whined and moaned from just his fingers alone; the feeling of his digits rubbing your delicate, spongey walls made you feel dizzy. Once in a while, you glanced at the camera, seeing the lewd sight in front of you, an intense feeling of shyness overcoming you. You moved your hands from the bedsheets to grip onto Seungmin’s arm and thigh instead. With the curl of his fingers, he hit your sweet sweet spot, making you let an embarrassingly loud whine. You started to buck your hips to meet his arm, making Seungmin pin your waist down.

“Master!” you stuttered, “ ‘M close! Your puppy is so close, ah!”

Seungmin smirked and started to pump his fingers faster. “Yeah? Gonna cum a lot for master, pup?”

“Yes! Oh my- fuck- yes!” Your eyes were glazed and out of focus. What were you looking at? You didn’t even fucking know. Seungmin revelled at the sight of your fucked out expression, an expression he caused with just his hands. He adored the feeling of your wall clenching tighter and tighter around his fingers. Knowing you were close to your orgasm, he moved his thumb to your clit and rubbed it as well. You let out a pleasured scream.

“Fuck!”

You cummed all over his hands, trembling. Seungmin slightly slowed down his pace, not showing any signs of stopping. He moved his hand back to your thigh, stroking it to calm you down and pry your legs wider for him. You breathed heavily, your hole still pulsating. You were about to ask Seungmin if was going to stop and fuck you with his cock instead when he started pumping his fingers again, but faster. A mixture of pain and pleasure set in your core from the oversensitivity. “Seungmin!” you cried. “Fuck! It hurts! Wait!”

“Really?” he asked rhetorically. His tone sounded bored, which, for some reason, turned you on even more. “Does it really hurt you, mutt? Or are you just being dramatic?” You whimpered, shaking your head. You tried speaking but only unintelligible slurs and moans came out of your mouth.

“Come on. Use the safe word. If you really can’t take it, use it,” he said, half taunting, half out of genuine concern. The way you arched your back and threw your head back with shut eyes was enough to let him know that it was something you were actually enjoying rather than hating. Seungmin scoffed, “See? I knew you can take it, filthy whore.”

Because of the over sensitivity, your high was coming to its climax quickly. You tightened the grip on his arm, pushing it closer to your pussy. Your other hand was now on the back of his neck, clawing at it. He took his hand off of your thigh and lifted your oversized shirt, exposing your tender breasts to his phone camera. He squeezed and pulled on your nipples. You were already sobbing from the pleasure at this point.

“Close again, pup?”

You nodded, licking your dry lips. Seungmin moved his left hand to play with your clit again, pinching and circling it. The pitch of your moans increased. One harsh tug of your clit triggered your sweet release, whining desperately this time. You whispered a weak stutter, “Oh my-!”

Instead of stopping or slowing down, Seungmin only continued his abuse on your core, overstimulating you again. You whined and hissed, looking back at the camera to see your boyfriend’s cum-covered fingers moving in and out of your red pussy, cum leaking out with every thrust. You eyes rolled back at the erotic sight, your head back onto his broad shoulders. “M-Master.”

“Come on, slut. One more can’t hurt. I know you can do it, beautiful.”

You bit your lip and hid your blushed face in his neck. The feeling of your hot breath fanning against his neck made Seungmin giddy. His left hand was back on your hips, making it difficult for you to move around. “Aw, how cute. Puppy can’t keep still,” he laughed condescendingly. “Bet you can’t talk anymore either, can you?”

You didn’t respond to, let alone hear, any of Seungmin taunts. The sound of your labored breathing and the squelching of your wet sex was the only thing your mind had the capability of listening to now. Getting an intrusive thought all of a sudden, you were suddenly aware of the embarrassingly loud moans you were letting out. You covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle your lewd noises. Seungmin immediately took notice of this and pried your hand away from it.

“Ah ah, little one. Too late for that now,” he grinned. “Besides. I want our neighbors to hear how good I make you feel. That no one but me can pleasure you how I can.”

“Yes,” your voice cracked. “No one. Only you can make me feel this good, master.”

“Yeah? What are you then, pup?”

“I’m master’s little fuck toy. Your nasty little mutt.”

Seungmin giggled. “Good pup.” He buried his face into your neck, making you lean your head to grant him more access, and kissed and sucked hickeys onto it. He pumped his fingers even faster than before, one finger curled to rub your sweet spot, the other stretched out to hit your cervix. Your throat was already hoarse from all the screaming and gasping you’ve been doing. Tears continued spilling out of your dazed eyes and your lips were as red as your abused cunt. To say you looked erotically disgusting was an understatement.

To Seungmin though, you looked like an absolute sex god, loving how ruined you look. Tears of pleasure streaming down your face, eyes shut tight. Your shirt throwing over your chest, breasts heaving from your labored breathing. Neck stretched out and exposed, showing off your pretty bite marks and hickies to the camera. Legs trembling, trying to their best to not squeeze themselves shut. Seungmin thought he could cum untouched just looking at you. You screamed; you were on the brink of insanity.

“Holy shit.” Your grip tightened even more, your hips bucked, and your breathing got heavier. You were close to your third release of the night. The heat in your stomach, however, felt even more intense than the last two times. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Seungmin!” you stuttered his name. “Holy fuck, I’m so so so fucking close. Shit!”

You shut your eyes tightly, your head thrown so back over his shoulder and your mouth so wide open. He harshly bit your shoulder again, triggering your release. You let out the most pornographic moans Seungmin had ever heard from you. You were spasming, the feeling of your orgasm was overwhelming.

“Holy crap, Y/n,” Seungmin gasped. You slowly peaked your eyes open to see your boyfriend’s expression through the phone. His eyes and mouth were wide open, vaguely looking prideful. He wasn’t looking at your face though, his eyes were down at your sensitive area. You looked down to see what got Seungmin so proud. Lo and behold, you see his fingers still inside your clunt, covered in a clear, glistening substance. You narrowed your eyes to see clearly. You then noticed that that liquid was spread all over the towel and a little bit on the bed. Your eyes widened almost comically once you realized what it was.

H-holy shit. I-

“O-oh. Oh wow. Holy- I made you,” he slowly pulled out his fingers, making you wince at the emptiness. “I made you squirt! Oh my gosh!” He laughed cutely. You smiled at his accomplishment.

“Congratulations,” you said, cringing at the raspiness of your tone. “‘Think that was my first time doing that.”

Seungmin smiled brightly, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“You did so well for me, beautiful. Good job,” he said softly. You smiled, relaxing your stiff body on his chest. He wiped his soiled hand on the towel to rub your back with both hands. The two of you cuddled, waiting for you to come back down from your high. Seungmin kissed your knuckles and leaned forward to get his phone and stop the recording. He patted you down with the towel after, then moved the pillows back to their place, pushing you to make you lay on the bed. He covers you with a warm blanket, waiting for your legs to relax.

“You know...If you have a video of me like that on your phone now...I think it’s only fair if I have one of you too?”

Needless to say, it was a long sexy night.

A/n: This was an impromptu(kinda?) collab with @seungmoomin so check out Nia’s version on their blog!! <3

[thundergunexpresss]

Something Like Seduction

This is a request I got a few days ago which I had loads of fun writing. I hope you like it anon! I took it upon myself to make it smutty, because I don’t think I’m physically capable of not writing something smutty. I miss my boyfriend, quarantine is NOT it, chief

Anyway. Enjoy my lovelies. Leave me a kinky request, they keep me young

MASTERLIST

The first time you nearly kiss Spencer Reid, it’s with a gun in your hand.

“Have you ever done this before?”

You blink up at Spencer, and you can feel your cheeks redden as your eyes meet his.

“Of course, I’m not a complete idiot.”

He gives you a quick reassuring smile, passing the gun back over to you where you sat beside him at your desk. To tell you complete truth, you really didn’t have much of a clue of what you were doing. You hadn’t worked the streets before moving to the BAU, and none of your previous roles had required you to be carrying. But he didn’t know that, and reloading the gun couldn’t be that hard. Hotch had noticed that you didn’t seem the most comfortable around firearms and had told you that a member of the team would swing by your desk to help.

It’s just- you hadn’t imagined that it would be Spence showing up at your desk, sleeves rolled up and tie loosened as he pulled a seat up beside you, his knee bumping yours as he sits. It’s not like you couldn’t handle a crush, you’re not 15 anymore and he’s a colleague, but there’s just something about the way he acts around you. That feeling of excited-almost-dread you get in the pit of your stomach you feel when he shoots you a wink, or refers to you as angel as he so often does.

You’re broken from your train of thought by Spencer’s hand patting your knee to regain your attention. It doesn’t do much to help with the blushing situation, and honestly if he wanted you to focus that was the last thing he should’ve done.

“So, I’m reloading it. Gotta make sure the safety is on first though?” you try to sound brazen, but your statement comes out as more of a question. It must be clear from look baffled look on your face that you’re lost, a smirk forming on his lips as he raises an eyebrow at you.

“You haven’t got any idea what you’re doing, do you angel?”

“Um, no. Not really. But if you teach me now then it’ll be just like I knew all along though, right?” he laughs, shaking his head at your response.

“Well I couldn’t have you getting in trouble, could I?”

He’s flirting. He’s definitely flirting. Or is he just being nice? Jesus, it’s like running in circles, this little game the two of you have come to be familiar with. Flirty comments, suggestive looks, the nicknames. He drives you fucking crazy – part of you wants to just jump him when nobody is around, pin him against a wall and focus all this pent up frustration on getting him to fuck you as hard as you imagine he would.

“So, you treat every gun like it’s loaded,” he explains, reaching over and placing his hand over yours on the handle of the pistol, and if he notices you shudder then he doesn’t say anything. He pulls your finger away from the trigger, “you never know when it’s going to go off, and you’ve got to make sure you’re ready for the consequences of getting so close to such a…,” his voice is quiet, almost a mumble, and he glances at you before finishing, “dangerous weapon.”

It’s like the air thickens as you swallow, turning to face him. There energy shifts between you and you’re acutely aware of how hot his skin is on yours, hands still wrapped over yours as you hold the gun.

Dangerous weapon. It sounds like a tacky line from an 80’s porno, but for some reason coming from his mouth it makes your heart race.

“Then you press the eject button, right here,” his hand wraps around yours as he places your finger over the button, pressing it in with slight force, “and then the magazine comes out. It means storage space in French, which is why you store the ammunition in there.”

“Good fact, brain boy.” You tease, but the cheeky tone is gone, your words coming out timid and wobbly. You’re hoping that he assumes it’s the nerves of holding a gun, rather than the fact that you can feel how wet you are as you squeeze your thighs together beneath the desk.

“Then you fill it up.”

He’s talking about the gun. He’s talking about the gun.

He slots the bullets in with ease, and it gives you a chance to focus on his fingers. They’re long and weathered despite his young age, his knuckles prominent, the veins in his hands bulging as he grips the handful of metal.

“Then, once it’s full, you just line it up,” he slots the magazine into the hand grip, pressing your palm to the bottom and cupping your hand with his own, “and slide it in.” his hand shoves firmly against yours, lingering after you hear the click confirming the mag is locked in place.

There is no way that he’s not doing this on purpose.

“Then, just turn off the safety,” he gestures to the top of the gun, “and shoot the bad guys.”

“Seems tricky. Can’t you just do it for me?” you ask, facing to turn him, recoiling slightly as you find him already looking at you, faces inches apart. He smiles, and for a second it feels like he’s going to kiss you. Your breath hitches in your throat, and you swipe your tongue over your bottom lip nervously. The movement seems to snap Spencer back to reality, because he pulls back and coughs, dropping his hands from your own and the gun.

“You know I’ll always take care of you, angel.”

You smile and look down to the floor as he stands up, forcing a laugh at the nickname.

“You better, Reid. What would you do without me?”

He doesn’t respond, just shoots you a wink as he turns to leave, heading back to the other side of the office to continue with his day. Completely unaware of the affect his every action has on you – or worse – aware and uninterested.

You sink into your chair and glare at the gun on the desk in front of you as if it were the weapons fault that you’d had to endure the past 10 minutes without crying. The worst part was, even when you tried to spill to JJ she barely believed you. He didn’t make it obvious; it was subtle and hidden in moments when nobody else was around. When he asked a favour of you, or when you were making a drink and he happened to catch sight of you alone by the coffee machine. That was perhaps the worst bit about it – as if he was doing it on purpose to drive you mad. If that was the plan, it was working. But what else would you expect from a genius?

*

The second time you nearly kiss Spencer Reid, it’s with your hand down your pants.

Halloween. It had been your favourite holiday growing up, you loved to dress up. As you got older, you loved getting absolutely wrecked while dressed up, but this year you were on duty. It was an unlucky pick, only two members of the team having to work the evening shift on the night of the festivities to assist with the increased demand on law enforcement over the course of the night.

You arrive early, everyone else already having gone home by the time you get to your desk. It’s quiet in the office, only a janitor finishing up across the room. It’s eerie, a distinct silence in the usually bustling workspace, and you scan the rest of the room as you drop your bag onto your chair. First in order is caffeine, working through the night was never easy, and recently you’d been losing more sleep than you could afford thinking about him. His unruly hair that curls around his cheek bones, framing his slender features and wide eyes perfectly. His cardigans, the way he rolls up the sleeves and tucks in his tie like some kind of sexy hipster agent. The beat-up satchel bag he wore everywhere.

The beat-up satchel bag.

You almost choke as your eyes fall on the bag, sitting atop his workspace in the empty room. Not this again. Not another night of slightly too inappropriate for work banter and semi-serious wandering if masturbating in the toilet stalls was going too far or not. Your brain tells you yes, but the way his eyebrows furrow as he concentrates says it’s your only option.

You stomach flips as you hurry past his desk, just the knowledge that you’d soon be in his company enough to make your head spin. It was a constant battle of either discretely avoiding him, or giving yourself meaningless tasks to bring yourself over to his desk. Taking the longer route to the coffee machine and keeping your eyes down, praying he was watching as you made your way past him.

“Who’s got you in a hurry, sweetheart?”

You body slams on the breaks, plastering on a smile as you turn to face him as if he’d appeared from nowhere, shoving your intrusive thoughts of getting in your knees for him into a box in the back of your head.

“Caffeine, sweetheart,” he grins at you as you mock him, “the great love of my life.”

He feigns hurt at your choosing a love other than him, his hand raising to his chest as he leans crosses his legs and leans against the wall. He’s not wearing his usual work get up, instead wearing a chunky sweater which was much too big for him and a pair of worn converse. It was unlike him, he rarely shared details of his life outside of work, wardrobe included. He’s wearing his glasses, another sight you rarely got to enjoy, and it only makes your job harder.

Job. That’s right. Keep professional, and it’ll all go smoothly. It’s bullshit and you know it, but at least it’s something to focus on which doesn’t lead you right back to the thought of riding him in his desk chair with his glasses still on.

Except, here you are anyway, thinking about riding him in his desk chair with his glasses still on.

“So, the Halloween shift. Someone hates us.”

“You got that right,” you mutter under your breath, placing your mug into the holder of the machine, watching as it begins to fill, “I’m going to get started on some paper work, maybe it’ll make it go faster.” You say, louder this time, turning your head to look at him as he stands up, adjusting his glasses. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he seemed disappointed in your plans, but if you stayed to chat you couldn’t be sure of what you’d say.

“Okay, angel,” he steps aside as you pick up your mug and move past him, “don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t, Spence.”

You don’t look back at him as you make your way back to your desk, setting down your drink and grabbing your bag as you slump down into your chair. This was impossible. He had to feel the electricity that sparked when you were together. It wasn’t something that could just be ignored. You’ve had long term relationships that haven’t made you feel as excited as the way you feel when he smiles at you as you catch eyes across the room – as excited as you feel when you hear ��that’s my girl’ as you make a step forward in a case, or do something as simple as get him a cup of coffee as you get your own.

That’s my girl. What you would give to hear him say that as he pushes his cock down your throat, fingers curled in the hair at the back of your head as he completely controls you. His hand wrapping around your throat so he can feel how far down you can take it, how filthy the sounds falling from his lips would be, how his praise would only make you want it more, make you want to show him how good you can be for him.

Jesus Christ. You raise your eyes cautiously to check on his whereabouts, seeing him face down in a book on the other side of the office. Its barely even a conscious decision, your hand snaking its way between your legs as apply the slightest amount of pressure to your crotch, seeking a moment of relief. It’s not a good idea, and you know that – but it just feels too good.

Only a select few lights are on in the office to save on energy, and the dim bulbs provide you some sense of cover as you pull at the button of your trousers, pushing your hand below the waistband of your panties to feel how wet you are. You run your fingers over your hole, pursing your lips as you feel the wet heat surround them. Your eyes raise again to glance at Spencer, and its like a shock runs through your body directly to your clit on sight.

It’s so dangerous, but you like it. The concept of being fired goes out the window as you begin to move your fingers in little circles around the oversensitive bundle of nerves, your other hand rising to the laptop in front of you, lifting the screen to provide a little more shelter should Spencer glance over. You inhale shakily, keeping your eyes on the empty screen in-front of you. You want nothing more than to watch him as you get yourself off, to watch the way his long fingers wrap around the cover of his book as you feel yourself clench around your own fingers, but this is Spencer. He’d sense your eyes on him too soon, and you’d have to stop - and potentially get caught. So you stick to the screen, focusing on keeping your mouth shut and movements minimal as you feel a familiar heat pooling in your stomach, your toes curling inside your shoes as you dare to speed up, doing your best to keep your arm still as your fingers do all the work.

It's almost too much, it never feels this good when you do it at home. It’s the adrenaline junkie in you, it’s why you picked your current career – the danger turns you on, sexually and mentally. Your breath is coming out of your nose in short huffs, too scared to open your mouth to breathe despite what your lungs are telling you.

“Hey, can you sign off these files for me, angel?”

You freeze, startled, almost jumping back in your chair as his voice echoes in the empty room. He’s close to your desk – too close. You hadn’t even noticed him move from where he was sat.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and you must look like a deer in headlights. You cough slightly, plastering a smile over your face as you shuffle forward in your seat. If you remove your hands now, it will be way too fucking obvious that they’re down your pants, so you push your body into the desk in the hopes that he thinks you’re just sat with your hand on your lap. It’s not great, but it’ll have to do.

“Yeah, of course. You just scared me,” he doesn’t look all that convinced, “I thought you’d forgotten about me.” You pout, your heart isn’t in it, but he bites back regardless.

“How could I forget about you, sweetheart.”

You can’t help it, your fingers twitch against your clit at the nickname, and you whimper. It’s quiet, but Spencer hears, frowning as he brings the files over to your desk, getting even closer. He doesn’t stop until he’s practically bent over your desk, and he takes your chin in his hand, moving your head side to side. It’s a lot to unpack – you can smell him, his hands are you on you, he’s staring at your face. It’s almost torture.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asks again, inspecting your face as you sit beneath him.

“Just tired. The Halloween shift you know, fun!” he nods, understanding, still only inches from your face. Why does this keep happening? He’s looking at you directly again, eyes slightly narrowed as he watches you. He takes in a sharp breath, eyes glancing down to your mouth so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching him so intently, you might have missed it.

“Okay, well, don’t have too much fun,” he winks, pushing himself off the desk and turning to leave almost as soon as the words had left his mouth.

He can’t- does he know!?

You yank your hand from your trousers, and you can feel the heat spread across your cheeks as you watch him walk away. If he knows what you were doing, then he didn’t do anything about it, which means he either doesn’t like you or doesn’t want you. The thought of either makes your stomach drop, and you look down to the files on your desk.

There’s a sticky note atop the first in the pile, scrawled out in Spencers handwriting.

‘There are cameras in here, angel.’

Your eyes widen as you snap your head up to his desk, but he’s not there, having left to go to the evidence room or make a coffee, most likely.

Inhaling slowly through your nose and out through your mouth in a desperate attempt to get some control over your body, you peel off the note, crumpling it and throwing in the trash. You pull your headphones from your bag, placing them in your ears and pressing shuffle, cutting off the outside world, or in this case, any further interaction with Spencer.

It’s going to be a long night.

*

The third time you nearly kiss Spencer Reid, you actually kiss Spencer Reid.

“You’ve got to loosen up, have another drink.” JJ says, reaching over to pour some more of her stow away vodka in your cup. You look down at the liquid and sigh. You’re half-way drunk at a leaving party for someone that, if you’re being honest, you don’t even recognise. It’s an office thing, so naturally the whole team is here at the bar, Spencer included, though you were yet to see him.

“He’s had plenty of opportunities. He’s not flirting it’s just friendly banter – he’s bored.” You say, and JJ rolls her eyes. She doesn’t mention the fact that she never asked, just wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“He’s not like that with anybody else. I still find it hard to believe, our Spence flirting,” she pulls you up so you’re standing in front of her, “but you look fucking spectacular. Get drunk, have fun, if he fucks you then he fucks you. If not, his loss.” She shrugs, pushing your cup to your mouth and you don’t argue, drinking a mouthful and cringing at how strong it is.

“Classy,” you laugh, taking another swig of your drink before she’s pulling you out of the bathroom and back onto the dance floor. She’s right – who cares. He clearly saw what you were doing on Halloween, and he did nothing. He barely spoke a word to you after the sticky note, so fuck him. If he doesn’t want you at your horny office stage then he doesn’t deserve you at your horny drunk stage.

It doesn’t make much sense, but you don’t care. The alcohol is starting to set in, your vision hazy as you dance, arms in the air and hips grinding to the music. You don’t think twice when you feel a pair of hands on your hips, pushing yourself against the body behind you, desperate to let off some steam.

Spencer. Spencers hands wrapping around your waist. Spencers lips on your neck. Spencers hard on pressing against your ass as you grind to the music, head spinning as he pulls you closer.

You turn around clumsily, staggering in your heels as you look up at the man you’ve been dancing with, and who the fuck is this!? You push your hands against his chest, mumbling an apology into the suddenly much too loud music as you stumble backwards. How drunk are you? You make your way to the bar, squinting your eyes in a bid to make the room stop spinning as you fall into a bar stool, putting your drink down and shutting your eyes, trying to block out the sound and work out what the fuck you’re doing.

“Looks like I’m not your only admirer, angel.”

His voice is loud in your ear, hot breath hitting your skin as he leans in close to ensure that you can hear him. You don’t need to open your eyes to recognise his voice, it’s been haunting you for months.

You blink your eyes open, accustoming yourself back to the flashing lights as you look up, and there he is. His shirt is unbuttoned down his chest, his skin slick with sweat from the humid air in the room. He’s got his tie loosened, still around his neck, and he must have come straight from work, because even in your drunken state you know that even Spencer wouldn’t wear a tie to the bar.

“Yeah, well, at least that one wants to touch me.” You slur, picking your drink back up as you look away from him. You don’t see his face, but you can imagine how his brow would furrow in confusion, mouth opening and shutting again in wait of finding the right words to say.

“What? I-“

“I don’t even care,” you cut him off, almost shouting to be heard above the pumping music, “I’m going to have some fun, enjoy your night, ‘angel’” you mock, standing up and taking a second to find your balance before making off into the crowd of writhing bodies in front of you. You push your way through them, drink spilling out of your cup as you try to find an exit. It’s getting too much, the room begins to spin again, and it feels like there isn’t enough oxygen to go around. It’s suffocating, and suddenly you feel light headed. There isn’t enough time to find the toilet before your vision darkens, and your body starts to feel like jelly.

The last thing you hear before you drop to the floor is someone shouting your name, and then everything goes black.

*

You slowly blink your eyes open, recoiling at the bright light in the room as you come to. It takes a second to come to your bearings, and you push yourself to sit upright as you take in your surroundings.

“What happened?” your voice is hoarse, and you cough to clear your throat. Spencer is sat next to you, his hand is over yours, his thumb rubbing small circles over the soft skin there.

“You can’t hold your alcohol very well, can you, pretty girl.”

Pretty girl, that’s new. It makes your stomach flutter, and suddenly you realise how awful you must look in front of him. You grip the chair as you try to push yourself up, only for Spencer to pull you back down, concern etched on his features.

“I’ve got an Uber coming to pick us up.” His voice is soothing as he speaks, and you sit back down, frowning at him.

“Us?”

“Us. You’re coming back to my apartment,” he explains, and alarm bells ring in your head. His apartment, which contains his things. Because he lives there… Spencers apartment.

“I have my own place, you know.” You mumble, feeling your pockets for your phone, relaxing as you feel it in your jeans.

“I didn’t want you to go home alone, angel,” he leans forward to catch your eye, “I need to keep you safe.”

“I don’t even feel drunk anymore,” and it’s not a lie. You feel grounded, aware of yourself. Maybe a little tipsy, but the head rush has gone.

“Drunk or not, the Ubers here.”

He grabs your hand to help you up, and you take it, despite feeling steady on your feet. His hand engulfs yours, much bigger than your own hand as he pulls you towards the door of the back room you’ve been sat in. It leads straight out onto the street, the bitter cold hitting you as you step out of the building.

The Uber is right outside, Spencer must have given the driver strict directions so that you wouldn’t have to walk back through the bar. It should make your heart swell, but instead your stomach drops, heat pooling in your stomach. Your body is almost too predictable at this point, getting turned on at Spencer doing something as simple as booking a ride. But it’s the care he puts into it, the extra mile he seems to go whenever you’re involved. It can’t just be in your mind.

The ride back is painfully quiet. Neither of you speak, sitting in the back with your hands in your respective laps, and he seems nervous. It’s not unlike Spencer to be quiet, but he’s fidgeting, playing with his hands, and it’s almost annoying. What does he have to be nervous about? You’re the one in an Uber at midnight on your way to the apartment of the man you’ve been borderline obsessed with for months.

Saying it like that makes you sound crazy, but you just can’t get him out of your head. It’s like your body is magnetically attached to his, you get this pull to be near him. You fall asleep at night thinking of ways you can touch him without it appearing unnatural. Maybe you are crazy.

You don’t get the time to dwell on it either way, because the car halts to a stop outside an apartment building just a few minutes from the bar.

You thank the driver, exiting the vehicle and following Spencer to the door of his apartment building as the car pulls away behind you, leaving the two of you submerged in the darkness.

It takes a second to unlock the door, but soon you’re inside, the warmth of the lobby easing your tense muscles and relaxing you a little as he leads you towards his place.

“It’s not much,” he says quietly, sliding the key into the lock and pushing the door open, “but at least you won’t be on your own.”

He flips a switch and light floods the room. The first thing you notice is books. Lots of books. It’s like a library, shelves lining the walls of the small space, covering almost every piece of available wall.

Spencer leads you to a room on the other side of the apartment, opening a door to reveal his bedroom. It’s not dissimilar to what you’ve already seen of the apartment, books stacked on furniture and on the floor beside his bed. It’s so Spencer. It’s perfect.

He clears his throat, snapping you back into reality as you cross your arms over your chest, offering him a nervous smile.

“I’ll find you something to change into,” he turns to a closet opposite the bed and grabs a folded t-shirt and sweats, “I’ll let you change, angel.”

He hands the clothes to you, brushing past you as he exits the room. As the door shuts behind him, you sit down on the bed, clothes in hand. Of course they’re ridiculously soft, and they smell like home. How is that even possible?

What the fuck was even going on. You’re sat on Spencers bed. His bed! You try not to freak out, but the gravity of the situation hits you hard as you begin to take off your clothes, this is not how you envisioned getting naked in Spencers room would pan out. Not with him taking you home out of pity because you got so drunk you passed out.

You sigh as you pull the t-shirt over your head, your lips turning upwards into a smile as you run your fingers over the Cal Tech logo. The embarrassment of this evening is something which you’d need to unpack tomorrow once you got home – potentially over a bottle of wine, and a very self-pitying phone call to JJ.

A knock on the door breaks your train of thought, Spencers head appearing round the door as he enters hesitantly.

“I’m done changing, Spence,” you assure him as he steps into the room, still in his shirt and messy tie from earlier. The knot in your stomach tightens, and you dig your fingertips into the side of your leg as a reminder to control yourself – now is not the time to get horny, but fuck, how could you not be.

He walks over and sits down next to you on the bed, his arm brushing against yours as he settles.

“So,” he begins, “do you want to talk about it?”

You stare at him, staying perfectly still as you try read his facial expressions.

“Talk about… what?” you ask, almost dreading the answer. You have no idea what he’s talking about, and nothing good ever comes from ‘do you want to talk about it.’

“What you said at the bar.”

And suddenly it rushes back to you. You groan, dropping your head into your hands to hide your face. ‘At least that one wants to touch me.’

Your own voice echoes in your mind and it makes you sick to your stomach. What the fuck were you thinking? What are you supposed to say to him now?

“Spence, I was drunk,” you start, but you’re cut off before you get to hear what thrown together excuse your brain would muster.

“I do want to touch you.”

The words fall from his mouth like he wasn’t expecting them himself, and you lift your head to look at him.

“What?”

“I do,” he shifts so he’s facing you, “I do want to touch you. I’ve been going crazy, watching you from my desk, calling you angel to try and flirt, which just seemed stupid coming from me.”

It’s like you’re in a dream. The room begins to spin again, but this time it’s not the alcohol.

“And then on Halloween,” his eyes drop to the floor, and a new wave of embarrassment hits you, “I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to, you know, but I didn’t know what to do – what to say. You’re so beautiful.” He sounds ashamed at his lack of action, and you reach your hand out to rest on his leg. He looks up, almost in shock, and you don’t know what to do either, so you do the only thing that you can think of. The only thing you ever think of.

You don’t give yourself time to second guess, you just lean forward and press your lips to his, so gentle they barely touch. He takes in a sharp breath, and you begin to pull away, worried that you’ve fucked up, but then his hand is wrapping into your hair and pulling you back, and he’s kissing you.

Spencer Reid is kissing you.

It’s like something clicks inside of you, something animalistic that screams horny and all your rational thoughts are out of the window. You push back into the kiss, hands moving to his waist as you open your mouth to press your tongue against his bottom lip. He parts his lips to meet your tongue, his hand gripping your hair slightly tighter, the burning sensation on your scalp only urging you to deepen the kiss.

You gasp as he pulls your head back, kissing the side of your mouth and slowly pressing kisses down your face until his lips attach to your neck, sucking and kissing the sensitive skin there. It’s messy and it’s desperate, and his hand wraps around your neck to keep you in place as you writhe under his touch.

“Spence,” your voice is low under your laboured breathing, eyes fluttering shut as he closes his teeth over your skin in response to hearing his name, biting down gently before pulling away to look at you. He looks manic, eyes wide and lips swollen, chest heaving as he tries to take the image of you in all at once.

“Are you sure?” he asks, and you don’t respond, instead pushing his shoulders until his back hits the bed, swinging a leg over him to straddle his waist.

His hands find your waist immediately, pushing under the old t-shirt to touch your skin as your lips find his again. It’s everything you’ve imagined. His stubble brushes against your chin as you kiss him, and you revel in the control of being above him.

Grinding your hips down, you feel how hard he is against your hip, catching his moan with your lips at the friction. Pushing yourself up, he watches you as you lift the t-shirt over your head, exposing your breasts as you begin to grind down onto the erection beneath his trousers. His eyes flutter shut, his mouth falling open into a silent moan as you move above him.

“I was so angry,” his eyes open to hold contact with yours as his hands find your hips, fingers digging in as he guides your movements, “watching you dance for that man,” his hips thrust up to meet yours, the outline of his cock in his trousers presses against your clit, “you were all over him. My pretty girl, you made me so jealous.” He hisses, his hips pushing up particularly hard, and that name. My pretty girl. Fuck.

You lift your hips up, whimpering at the loss of contact as you remove yourself from his body to pull off the sweat pants he had given you. He doesn’t waste any time following suit, his eyes scanning over your body as he pushes down his pants, and pulls off his shirt. You would normally be self conscious, but it’s almost as you’re high right now, you care so little about anything except your drug of choice, Spencer.

He finishes removing his clothes, and for a second the two of you are still, taking in the sight of each other naked, and wow. It’s always the tall skinny ones, but Jesus. He’s big - big big - kind of scary when you really think about it big. He reaches a hand down and wraps his hand around himself, slowly stroking as he watches you stood in front of him.

It makes your legs feel like jelly, watching him touch himself, getting hard because of you. You sit down on the bed next to him, and gently push his hand away.

Leaning forward, you ignore the uncomfortable angle as you let spit fall from your mouth onto his cock. He exhales shakily, watching you as you reach a hand up and begin to stroke, spreading the saliva until he’s wet. He’s mumbling something, you can’t hear what exactly but you’re sure it’s good as you crane your neck down and take him into your mouth, sinking down until you realise you’re not breathing. Coming up for air, you look up at him as you begin to bob your head up and down, the flat of your tongue pressing against the underside of his cock, hand matching your rhythm on the areas your mouth can’t reach.

He looks wrecked, his hair is messy and his bottom lip is caught firmly between his teeth catching the steady stream of moans he lets out as he watches you. You take your mouth off of him, replacing it with your hand, working over the head of his cock dangerously fast.

“Angel, I’m not going to last if you keep that up.”

You slow your hand down, nodding as you push yourself onto your knees. Climbing back to your original position, you straddle him, leaning down to reconnect your lips.

Most men would shy away from kissing after you’ve had your mouth on them, but Spencer seems to thrive on it. He’s kissing you like he’s starved, like if he can’t get enough of you right now you’ll disappear. His hands are everywhere, cupping your ass, pinching your nipples between his fingers, holding your jaw to keep your head in place as he bites over your neck, no doubt leaving a trail of angry red bruises in his wake.

You lift your hips up, reaching down between your bodies and lining him up with your enterance. You don’t break the kiss as you sink down slowly onto him, open mouths pressing against each other’s as you take it, a guttural moan ripping from your throat as you feel how full you are.

It takes a second for your body to adjust, you lift your hips slowly, feeling the drag as you raise yourself up. You find a rhythm, slow at first, and Spencer’s eyes are shut as you slowly rise and then sink back down, as if he’s concentrating on not cumming. The thought of him being so strung out because of you makes you lose it, and you start to bounce on him, thighs beginning to burn as you speed up.

It feels fucking incredible. Every subtle shift of your hips pushes him in deeper, and it’s like fire shooting up your spine. Spencer’s voice is low as he mumbles praise, a string of ‘yes, ah, fuck’ escaping his lips below you.

“Yes,” he hisses as you drop down onto him particularly hard, “such a good girl.”

It’s all the encouragement you need, his words echoing around your head as you leans back instead of moving up, your hands resting on his thighs keeping you steady. It’s like your brain glitches as his cock presses into you just right, and your body chases the feeling, hips rutting franticly, unable to keep quiet as the tight feeling begins to build in the pit of your stomach.

You’re so far gone that when you lift yourself a little too high, the sudden empty feeling makes you sob. Spencer doesn’t hesitate, reaching down to slide back in, this time raising his knees to gain the leverage required to begin thrusting up into you, the only noise in the room skin slapping on skin as he slams into you so quick it feels as though you’re winded.

You’re both sweaty, his thrusts becoming uncoordinated as your bodies move together. His cock slips again, and you fall forward, your face pressing into his neck as a desperate whine, almost unrecognisable comes out of you.

He doesn’t waste any time, pushing his hips up until you’re full again, his arms crossing behind your back to keep you in place as he fucks up into you, brutal and hard and exactly what you needed after months of teasing and flirting and wanting.

And then, it’s gone again. This time it’s not an accident, and you squeal as he flips you over so you’re on your back, and he’s on top of you. His hair falls onto your cheeks as he leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips, before he’s thrusting into you, deep and hard and rough.

You’re getting close, you can feel how wet you are and you can’t slow down the fast approaching release you need so badly. You can tell Spencer is close too, his face bunched up in concentration as he grits his teeth, using all his energy to keep the pace fast.

Suddenly, he’s leaning forward, pushing your legs back to your chest and bending you in half. Your lips clash as you reach a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, chasing that feeling as Spencer’s hips slam into you.

“Fuck, angel,” he struggles to speak as his hip movements stutter, and it’s either the nickname, his weight on you meaning you can’t breathe, or just him that sends you over the edge.

It’s like your whole body is on fire as you come, your vision going white as you shake beneath him, clawing at his back as he thrusts in deep and holds it there. You can feel the warmth spread inside you as he comes, and you cling to him.

It feels a long time that the two of you stay like that, sweaty and heaving and completely spent, but in reality it’s probably no more than thirty seconds before he’s slowly pulling out, hissing at the sensation.

He disappears for a moment, leaving you lying in his bed, eyes closed as your body twitches, the aftershocks of your orgasm still making its way throughout your body.

He returns not long after with a towel, and you take it gratefully, doing a quick clean up before shuffling up the bed to lay beside him.

He lifts a hand to brush his thumb across your cheek, leaning in and kissing you softly, gentle and loving and in such stark contrast to the way he had been kissing you minutes ago.

“Thank you,” you whisper as your lips part, your head dropping to the pillow, “for taking care of me.”

He smiles, one arm snaking beneath your neck and the other around your waist as he pulls you closer, kissing your forehead.

“I told you I always would, angel.”

You feel safe, finally falling asleep in his arms after so long. It feels right, familiar. As if it had never been any other way.

Spencer’s thumb caressing little circles into the small of your back is the last thing you feel before falling asleep. It’s the best sleep you’ve had in months.

You’re home.

/

taglist: @blushingspencer @disney-dreams-world

[trashmenofmarvel]

Devil’s Backbone - Chapter 6

Pairing: The Winter Soldier x S.H.I.E.L.D. agent!Reader

Summary: With your team dead and your mission failed, you’ve been taken by the assassin to an unknown location and are at the mercy of your cruel tormentors. (This fic is explicit, 18+ only, mild dubcon)

Chapter Warnings: Intrusive thoughts

Word Count: 2.7k

Tag List: @pandalandalopalis @insidethemindoftrent

AO3

The isolation was bearing down on you again.

The harsh walls of your cell were growing smaller, the surface so stark it hurt your eyes to stare for too long. The quiet pressed against your eardrums like an invisible pressure, becoming so unbearable that you would scrape the bottom of your boots against the floor just to break the deafening silence.

You didn’t want to think about him. You didn’t want to acknowledge that his visit—and what he had done to you during it—had eased your torment and made the suffering more bearable. At least, for a short amount of time. Was this some new kind of torture? Give you a respite from the terror and isolation only to make it that much worse when you were left alone?

If that was the case, it was working. Your muscles were tensed into coils and you could feel your heartbeat pounding your chest, thumping like a caged rabbit. You wanted to get up and pace to burn the excess energy, but the part of you that still held onto Rumlow’s teachings told you to wait. Conserve energy, rest, and prepare. Always be prepared.

But the hypervigilance was wearing on you too. As you sat slumped against the wall, your mind began to wander, treading dangerous ground as it desperately searched for something to latch on to. If the assassin was acting under orders, at least you knew where you stood with him. He was your tormentor and you were the imprisoned. He would break you down eventually, using your need for comfort as a weapon against you.

But, what if… what if he was acting alone? If he had come to your cell of his own volition, acting on no authority but his own, that was even more dangerous. It made him unpredictable. Someone with a hidden agenda.

At the thought, you shivered and curled your legs up to your chest. It was still too cold in the cell. You would have taken a threadbare blanket at this point just to have something to warm yourself with, but they had stripped you of that small comfort too. Your humanity was a joke in this place; the punchline an unmarked, shallow grave.

The sound of the door unlocking jolted you out of your stupor. Your back was against the concrete and you were already in a half-crouch before the door was fully open. They wouldn’t take you without a fight today. You were determined to either escape this place or die in the attempt.

But there were no men in black fatigues, ready to haul you to the white room. It was the assassin. Again.

Your stomach churned in a storm of emotions, too many and all too fast for you to catch. The reason for his visit was clear as soon as he entered; he had brought you another tray of food, this one carefully balanced on his metal palm as he shut the door behind him.

You looked at the tray of food and sudden tears blurred your vision as you worked against the lump in your throat. Pathetic, the cruel voice sneered in your mind. So what if he remembered to feed you when no one else would? He had still slaughtered your team. Taken you captive. You should hate him, but you didn’t. Instead, the voice mocked, you had let him use you. You had enjoyed it.

And you’ll let him do it again, the cruel voice added, triumphant.

No, you denied, wanting to shove your hands over your ears to shut out the accusation. I won’t. Not this time. This time, I’ll fight.

While you warred with the invasive thoughts in your head, the assassin moved forward. The internal battle immediately ceased as you watched him walk halfway across the room, his movements oddly stilted as he placed the tray carefully on the floor, his eyes fixed downward. He wasn’t looking at you, and had avoided making eye contact as soon as he’d opened the door.

His demeanor was so different than the confident, graceful predator you had first confronted. Now, with the mask covering the lower half of his face and his hair obscuring what little was exposed, his stance tense and withdrawn, he looked like a downtrodden dog who had been beaten one too many times.

It could have been a trick. A manipulation tactic to gain your sympathy. You knew better. You were smarter than this.

So why did the sight of him looking so miserable pluck at something in your chest?

He turned to leave.

“Wait.”

He paused at the sound of your voice, his shoulders tense and his back rigid. You pulled yourself to your feet, not knowing what exactly you wanted to say to him but knowing you couldn’t let him leave without trying to get some answers.

“Please?”

He turned his head just enough to eye you out of his peripheral vision. You bent and carefully moved the foot tray out of your path, placing it on top of the sink. Showing him that you weren’t going to dash it against the wall in a rebellious act this time.

He slowly turned to face you, pale blue eyes watching, slightly narrowed in what you could only interpret as wariness. His flesh hand twitched and you tried not to stare at his bare fingers, your mind only too happy to recall what they had evoked from you hours ago.

“Why?” Your voice was slightly rough. “Why did you… that?”

You didn’t think a further explanation was warranted, but he didn’t respond. You were beginning to think he might be mute or that he had been expressly ordered not to speak to you.

Ordered not to speak to me, but fucking me with his fingers was fine?

You shut down that train of thought before it could go anywhere. Already your stomach was twisting in a way that felt too much like anticipation just from simply being in the same room as him.

Jesus.

The first of your questions left unanswered, you decided to ask the second. It needed to be asked but it still set your teeth on edge. You almost hoped he wouldn’t answer this one, either.

“Did they tell you to do it? Were you under orders?”

For a moment, he remained completely still. And then the angle of his shoulders dipped the smallest degree.

“No.”

You were struck dumb. He had spoken. Finally spoken. His voice… was not what you expected. Muffled as it was by the mask, it was unmistakably masculine. But also strangely soft. You could feel the heat creeping up your chest, an involuntary response you wished you could deny.

“Okay,” you said, trying to sound as if that single word he had spoken hadn’t completely shaken you. “Then… why?”

He stared at you, his gaze unwavering for just long enough for the heat to spread to your neck. And then all at once, he looked away.

“I don’t know.”

Somehow, you were struck even more than before. There was something so human in that voice behind the mask, and it took you a moment to place it, despite the fact you had felt it not long ago.

Shame.

Instead of feeling sympathy for him, something else sparked inside your gut.

“You don’t know?” you repeated his answer, the beginning of anger edging into your voice. “How can you not know?”

He glanced up at you, perhaps because of the hostility in your words, and his brows were angled together. He looked almost confused, as if he was truly mulling over your words, but you felt only frustration. You didn’t know how you knew, maybe your body had started keeping track of your schedule of misery, but you just knew the guards would be coming within the next couple of hours.

And you were running out of patience.

Before he could react, you strode up to him and grabbed him by the harness strapped across his leather vest. His eyes widened in surprise, and you pulled him closer, the scowl on your lips tight and unhappy.

“What are they doing to me?” you demanded. “Who are these people? What do they want?”

You were so close to him you could feel his filtered breath on your face. But he remained silent and still, a statue in your hands.

“Why did you bring me here!” you snapped, desperation cracking your voice. “Answer me!”

He didn’t react to your harsh tone or the distraught words. It was when your fists tightened around his harness, causing the leather to creak from the strain that he reacted. Swiftly and without hesitation.

He grabbed your shoulders and before you could blink, he slammed your back against the wall. The air whooshed out of you, but you didn’t dare move as he kept you firmly pinned in place, his fingers digging into your skin. Even through the curtain of his hair you could see the unforgiving severity of his pale eyes.

He kept you at arm’s length, almost deliberately so. He had never been shy about full-body contact before—clearly—but now he seemed to be keeping you as far away as possible.

You couldn’t stop staring at him as you tried to catch your breath, unable to look away as your body slightly trembled with the force of your coiled muscles. His gaze bore straight through you, intense with some emotion. Anger, perhaps. He was definitely upset, though you weren’t entirely sure why. He wasn’t the one being tortured and kept locked in a prison.

His fingers tightened on your shoulders. This was it, you thought. Either he would snap your neck, release you, or drag you off to your dreaded appointment with the lab coats. You had gone too far, but even that knowledge was a relief. Anything was better than the unending, tedious waiting. Better to die now then return to the white room, or worse, lose your mind in this tiny cell.

But he didn’t move. He seemed frozen in place, his hard gaze wavering. Then it seemed to drift, appearing almost… lost. It was such a startling change from even a few seconds earlier that you couldn’t square it. Cold ruthlessness one moment, and then the next…

You didn’t know what made you do it—you couldn’t blame the fever this time. Maybe it was because you had nothing left to lose. You raised your hand and slowly, carefully, moved your hand toward your face.

His fingers gripped your shoulders tighter, his blue eyes honing in on your hand as if it was a weapon. You paused, not wanting him to grab your wrist again. But when he made no move to do so, you continued onward, drifting closer as your fingertips neared his jaw.

His hands on your shoulders were almost painful now, gripping you hard enough to make you wince. But he didn’t stop you.

You were so close now, so close, and then you were there. Fingertips touching the ridged surface of the dark mask. You weren’t sure how to unhook it from his face; it didn’t seem to be attached to his vest, though it was hard to tell with the black cloth covering his neck.

With great care, you traced along the hard material of the mask under his curtain of hair. It was soft against the back of your hand, tickling your knuckles as you moved towards the back of his jaw and below his ear.

You were having some kind of effect on him; his fingers trembled around the cusp of your shoulders and you heard the uneven rhythm of his breathing. But his eyes never left your face, the confused look replaced by something more focused but uneasy. He seemed as if he would snatch your hand away at any moment, the physical contact too much to bear.

You found a strap extending from the mask under his hair, a clasp along its length. You pried at it with your fingers, careful not to snag your nails on his loose brown strands, and with a click the strap came undone and the mask was loosened.

Barely breathing, you carefully slid it away from his face.

The face staring back at you was startling. Unexpected. Despite the hard line of his brow and the piercing glare of his pale eyes, the rest of his features were gentle. Handsome, even. His jaw looked powerful but his lips were full and soft. Stubble dusted his cheeks, enhancing his masculine features. Even his cheekbones changed the appearance of his eyes, giving the blue a sorrowful look where before they had been cold and callous.

He didn’t have the face of a killer. He had the face of someone whose first reaction was to smile. To show kindness. Where before you had only seen hard, knife-like edges, you now saw something soft and sadly sweet.

The mask felt vile in your hand and you quickly released it, hearing it clatter to the floor. The assassin paid no attention to it, his eyes only on you. How differently he looked without it.

Human. Vulnerable. Jesus, he almost looked breakable. Was this really the same man who had massacred your team and dragged you into this nightmare?

You raised your hand to his face again, trying to steady your trembling fingertips. He had allowed this much; you figured there was no point in stopping now.

When your fingers made contact with his jaw, the muscles in his cheek jumped. You almost retreated at his flinch but instead cupped your hand against his cheek. He was unusually warm, undeniably alive, and the stubble on his sharp jaw tickled your palm.

But what was most startling of all was when his eyes became unfocused, half-lidded, and almost fluttered shut as he actually leaned into your touch. It was such an innocent gesture, heartbreaking in its sincerity, and your first real insight that something was desperately off about this whole thing. About him.

You should have asked more questions. Gotten him to talk now that he seemed pliant. But all you could do was hold his jaw in your hand, marveling at the way he couldn’t seem to get enough. As if he craved it. Needed it. When your thumb stroked lightly across his cheekbone, he gave a noticeable shiver.

His eyes flew open. He glared down at your hand and grabbed you before you could retract it, wrapping his metal fingers around your wrist and forcing it back against the wall next to your head.

The soft sadness in his eyes was gone. He braced his teeth so hard the muscles in his jaw flexed, and the hand that had been on your shoulder now grabbed the front of your black STRIKE tank.

And just like that, as if flipped by a switch, his demeanor had changed and your fear had returned. His mood was mercurial at best, unstable at worse, and you let emotions distract you, trick you into thinking he might be something he wasn’t. The assassin was violent and aggressive, not someone to be pitied or empathize with.

You had fucked up royally, and now he had you in his sights.

Your worst fears seemed to be confirmed as he brought his face close to yours, his breathing shaky and erratic. You turned away, pressing your cheek against the rough, concrete wall. At this angle you could see his metal arm just inches away, holding the narrowest point of your right wrist.

You had never thought of yourself as small, and certainly not frail, but you were as delicate as a trapped bird in his steel grasp.

Shutting your eyes tight, you waited for the attack to come. Almost wished for it, because pain you knew how to deal with. If he was brutal and cruel to you, then everything would be simple. Black and white. That was the world you lived in. None of these shades of grey that left you ashamed and confused and—

You went stock-still as something warm pressed against the sensitive area below your earlobe. Opening your eyes but not wanting to turn and look, worried you might set him off again, you tried to figure out what it was. Your stomach fluttered with what felt like a hurricane of electric butterflies when you realized what it was: his lips.

Next Chapter

[deepseavibez]

Liquid Honey || PJM

-> Gif Source - Tumblr

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Liquid Honey [Jimin x Reader]

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Genre - Smut; 21+; Oneshot

Summary - You've been a very bad girl, sending very tempting pictures to you boyfriend all day. Rules are rules baby and your sexy boyfriend seems to be enjoying your punishment a little more than he should.

Warning - 21+!Only; Smut; Bondage; Edging; Fingering; Dirty Talk;

Word Count - 1.7k

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He had you tied to the bed. You weren't allowed to make a sound.

Walking into the room, he unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants, giving his hard on some space.

You clenched at the thought of what he was planning.

Silent. Naked.... and your body betraying you, with how ready it was to be used and fucked.

He walked to the bed, slowly. Like a tiger approaching his prey.

Reaching down with his hands and gripping you at the ankles, you yelped as the legs you held so tight together was pulled open, so each one could be tied to either side of the bed.

A knee bent, he leaned into you on the bed and smirked as he bit at one of your nipples.

You cried out at the sting... and the wave of pleasure that rolled through, had the evidence on your thighs visibly more noticeable.

Your open core dealing with the slight chill of being exposed, and the heat of the lust that consumed you, you were delirious with pleasure as he molded your other breast in his hand.

The loss of control, not being able to touch him, and move your hips or your hands as you pleased, it all heightened the pleasure to a borderline painful need.

Frustration built in you at the restraints, you wanted to pet him, grab at him, run his hair through your fingers.

He was fully clothed and you were so vulnerable, but all you wanted was release.

A hard and harsh release, but he was in no rush.

Jimins eyes met yours as he kissed his way up to your lips. He licked them. He kissed your cheek, he whispered his teeth across your neck and licked a stripe back up... But he never kissed you.

A frustrated cry coming from you, he cooed, and shushed you, pushing his finger into your mouth. You sucked at it, knowing his cock would be unbearably hard soon.

His trail of kisses ended below your left ear and he bit your lobe without warning. 'Jimin, please!'

'Please, what,' his nose kissed your shoulder as he asked the question.

'Please touch me.' Your voice was husky, desperate and needy.

He smiled, finally looking at you, his eyes jumping to your lips and back, 'Touch you where,' his whispered breathe against you.

You shivered. 'Y-your f-fingers in me, I want your fingers in me. Now!' You bit off in a desperate cry.

He took his time obliging, his hands skimming your shoulder, going down to pinch at your pert nipple, roving over your tummy, then he stopped. Drawing slight circular motions, on taut skin, that shouldn't even be arousing considering the location.... but it tortured you.

Your breathing labored, your hands tugged at the restraints. 'So help me God Park Jimin, get me out of this restraints and let me do it, if you won't!'

He stopped. All playfullness drained from his face as he gripped your waist tightly. Your breath hitched as he turned his eyes towards you.

His hand gripped your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact as he bared his possessive fury to you. 'Do you really think your fingers can make you feel the way I do? Will they be able to fuck you as deep as I can? Make you scream like I can?!'

He was dangerously close to the edge. But he caught himself. 'Don't push me baby, you're already in punishment.' He rubbed his forehead against yours.

'Please,' you begged. A sob you couldn't stop broke its way through.

You needed to be filled. You needed to be touched. You needed a finger in you at least, another rubbing at your clit. You needed it. You were going to lose your mind if you couldn't move for another second, if you couldn't use your own hands to push his fingers in you to thrust deep, or do it on your own

He kissed you then. A deep, slow kiss. You took his mouth savagely. As if you had been starved. But he gripped your throat. Pressure on either side he forced a slow dance with your tongue as your mind clouded. A slow kiss, sultry and addictive.

Like liquid honey oozing it's way through your body down to your core. Your moans were all that could be heard.

He broke off when you were both out of breathe. A nose kiss that left your heart aching, he worked his way, suckling any part of you he could see.

Writhing in ecstasy, you shivered, your hands gripping onto the ties for dear life, as he took you to heaven a single tiny step at a time.

He met your eyes as you got to the opening of your pussy and smirked as he blew his breath on you. You instinctively bucked your hips, but with your feet tied down and his hands gripping your thighs you were held down, no room to react before he dived in.

You screamed at the wetness from his tongue, as he didn't hold back. He licked a stripe from your clenching hole up to your clit and back down. Running his teeth lightly across your outer lips he went down to your inner thigh and nipped as he pleased before diving to grip your bud between his lips and suckling it. You were so close so so close. Before he lifted his head.

You whined at the emptiness, as you came down from the edge, he didn't give you your release that you so badly needed.

He caressed your inner thighs with his hands. And worked his way back up slowly to you pussy. After he was sure your body had settled from the almost orgasm, he plunged two fingers into you.

Your mouth tore off at a swear word, unable to hold back with the intrusion you had been craving so badly.

Your legs being stretched open gave him full access to you. He thrust deep and slow, not once quickening the pace. You clenched on his fingers. Dripping wet, high in pleasure, you could come if he added a bit more pressure. But he knew this.

He pulled away, even though you tried chasing your high and licked his fingers as you watched helplessly.

Teardrops fell on either side of your face, you couldn't stop it. And you didn't care to, everything too intense to comprehend, nothing else making the least sense except your body and mind knowing you needed release.

'Shhhhh,' he had his hands on the side of your face, cradling you as he wiped your tears and kissed you all over your face.

Despite the edging that was exhausting you, your heart still fluttered when he touched his nose to yours in a small gesture of comfort.

Finally standing up and taking off his shirt, you stared at the sight of this gorgeous man.

He licked his lips at you splayed out on his bed. Fucking hell how you wanted to sink your teeth into those full pink lips and mould them to yours. His eyes were heavy with lust, enjoying the view of you ready, willing and waiting to be wrecked by him.

His pants and boxer briefs were down a heartbeat later.

Climbing on top of you he pushed a pillow under your butt and lower back. He rubbed his cock at your entrance, he was so hard, so thick and he was going to fill you up so much, you groaned at the thought of him finally filling you.

Your hips, though bound, moving of their own accord, thrusting forward for you to meet his cock. He hummed, and looking up at him you realized how much of control this took from him. He wanted you. He wanted inside you as much as you wanted him there. So you used it.

Leaning back, pliant and obedient you licked your lips and moaned louder. Bit at your lower lip and pushed toward his dick. He took no time in pushing himself through your small opening and you threw head back and moaned at his first thrust into you. A slow shallow one.

'Fuck me, you're so tight.' he growled.

Hands on either side of you he pulled out and thrust deeper and deeper each time. Jimin still kept the pace, sultry and slow, as you lost your mind.

The only sounds now were your moans and his growling into your ear, you were so wet and tight and Jimin was in heaven. He bent his head for a kiss but you had other plans, as he thrust into you, you squeezed his cock inside you and bit those full lips of his.

And he snapped. Labored breathing, sweaty and face screwed up in anger, his hips slapped harshly into yours. His hands held onto your hips as he took you, thrust after thrust, that had you going from moans to cries and before any warning, you were coming.

But he didn't stop.

You rode out the first harsh orgasm that hit you with screams and tears and was worked up into another seconds after. His hands went between you to circle your clit and help you reach the edge, and just as you did, he threw his head back and roared his climax while you came down with him.

He collapsed on top of you as aftershocks raked its way through body. Head in your neck he placed dainty kisses there as you both got your breath back.

You felt utterly and completely used, and you loved every minute of the feeling.

When he was normal again he untied you, and massaged your wrists, kissing each side that was red, took you into his arms and sat you on his lap.

Your head tucked in the crook of his neck, he asked. 'Did I hurt you?'

You smiled tiredly. 'What sort of person asks if the punishment was bad, after they give it?'

You wanted to tease but he was genuinely concerned.

So you did the only thing you had wanted to since he came home tonight, you gripped his hair between your fingers and pulled him into a kiss.

'You're such a mochi Park Jimin,' you said against his lips... And he smiled against yours.

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[our-chaoticwhispers]

What Are The Chances (Pt 3)

Pairing:  Chris Pine x Reader

Warning: Smut!! I wrote smut! Oh my god.. Please tell me if it’s terrible!! 

Summary: Filming finally wrapped on Star Trek. You are Chris having been dating for a few months now, but haven’t taken it to the next level. While doing interviews, Chris and you can’t seem to stop flirting, let’s be honest, it’s adorable.

A/N: Again, I LOVE SOFIA BOUTELLA. I think she is amazing. In fact I like her some much, I decided to steal her life… ish… for you, the reader. <3

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Word Count: 1377

Filming was finally finished, and in the few months that you had off while the film was in post-production. You and Chris have been basically inseparable. He has taken you are several perfect dates, even some that most people would think are cliche, but you thought they were endearing. Your favorite being a trip to Disneyland. Chris treated you like a queen, he made you feel like the most important person in the world. There was so much love between the two of you, it was almost tangible. Everyone around you could see that the two of you were made for each other.

A few months later, you, Chris and Zach were sitting in front of an interviewer, talking about the new Star Trek movie. Both the boys were very touchy feely. Especially, Chris. He was constantly playing footsies with you, holding your hand, and rubbing your back.

After the interviews were over for the day, and you finished showering, there was a knock at your hotel room door. While in your towel, you look through the peephole to see the face of your handsome boyfriend.

"Hey baby," you said with a smile. "what are you doing over here? ... With a bottle of wine."

"Well, I thought that we could crack this baby open, and maybe watch a movie or something. It's been a long day, and I just want to hold you." He said, walking into the room.

You kissed him and walked back into the room. "What do you want to watch?" You call as you walk back to your suit case to pull out your PJ's. But, before you could start changing, Chris pulled your towel open and admired your naked form. The love in his eyes, as he raked over your body was intoxicating.

"Maybe we could skip the movie?" He said pulling you close to him. He grabbed the back of your thighs and lifted you up to his waist. You let out a small, surprised yelp, but wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.

You surprised him by grabbing his face and kissing him deeply. Tongues intertwine in a battle for dominance. You finally relent and enjoys the delicious assault on your mouth.

"If you don't want to go any further, just let me know." He said between kisses. Chris respected your decision to take everything slow, and he would never dream of rushing you. He walked back to the bed, and set you down.

You responded by grabbing his face and deepening the kiss. Chris moved his hands over your arms to your legs and back to your face. He gives you a little push that signals for you to lie back on the bed, as he kneels between your legs, scoring your luscious legs with love bites and kisses until he reaches the spot he was looking for.

He feels you tense as he gently removes your panties, “Last chance to tell me to stop.” he croons as he gently starts to rub her clit with the pad of his thumb.

"Please don't stop." You moan, lightly. You had been waiting for this moment, but you were far too scared to initiate it. And Chris was not one to try and pressure you into anything until you were ready.

You were already responding so much to his touch. When he replaces his thumb with his mouth, you think you might burst. You have never felt such exquisite pleasure in your life. The feeling is so much better in real life than anything you could have ever dreamed.

He licks your clit expertly. He knows all the right places to run his soft tongue over. Just a few short minutes after starting, you are shaking and on the verge of orgasm.

You reach down and grab a fist of his hair, forcing him to lick harder and faster. When your orgasm hits, it hits you hard, and causes you to shake violently. He soaks up every second of it. Licking well after the orgasm started, making you call out his name in ecstasy.

He gently removes the rest of your clothes, exposing your breasts, taking one nipple in his mouth at a time and lavishing over them until they harden to peaks.

Chris lifts himself off of you and stares intently at you. “I will give you one more chance to tell me no. But, if you still say yes, I will take you in any way that I want, as many times as I want. Do you understand?”

“I want you, Chris. Do whatever you want with me.” You look intently at him. Your lust for him, barely contained. Chris stares at you with a smile on his face that makes your heart jump

“I just want you to focus on pleasure. Just relax, and let me take care of you." His kiss intense and full of passion. You are so lost in the feeling of his mouth on yours and the taste of yourself on his lips.

He walks around from one side of the bed to the other, staring at every curve of your body. He lingers on the curl between your thighs and decides he needs to taste you one more time. As he laps at you and gently bites at your sensitive clit, you try to that you are about to cum, but the words don't make it out in time.

He looks down at your naked form in front of him. Fuck, you are so wet. He kisses his way you to your lips and captures you in another mind fracturing kiss. "Are you okay, baby?" He asks.

Your only response is to moan and grind yourself against him. You are so aroused at this point that it is almost painful. Chris moans into the crook of your neck before gripping himself and slowing pushing into you.

Part of you wants him to just push in as hard and as fast as he can, but the other part of you is savoring the slow torture. By the time he is fully seated in you, you are grateful that he went slow. My god, the man is huge. He pauses a moment, to let you adjust to the delightful intrusion.

"Are you okay?" He said after he noticed you squirming a bit.

"Yeah, I'm fine... You are just... bigger than I anticipated." You say sheepishly.

Chris can't help but laugh a little at the blush that rises to your cheeks. He begins to move and the feeling is almost indescribable. It may be cliche, but it feels like you two are made for each other. The rhythm Chris sets it perfect, just the right amount of passion and roughness.

You can feel yourself about to fall over the edge, and it seems that Chris can sense it, as he speeds up just a bit. He kisses you roughly and wraps his arms above your head as he drives into you, faster and harder with each pump.

"I'm so close, (Y/N)." He moans into your ear. Your name falling from his lips like a benediction. So soft and yet so full of longing that it is enough to send you over the edge. Clenching your inner muscles around him hard, as you call out his name.

He collapses on top of you, heavy - but not unpleasant. You both lay there for what feels like an eternity, both coming down from your highs. You idly run your fingernails up his back, causing him to shiver and laugh into your shoulder. After planting several kisses on your neck and collar bone, he looks at you in your (Y/E/C) eyes.

"I love you, (Y/N). More than I ever thought I could love another person." He sighs rolling off of you. "I just wanted our first time together to be special. And I feel like I rushed it."

You scoot over to him, straddling his lap and kissing him - hoping that the kiss shows him how much you love him.

"Chris, it was perfect. I couldn't have asked for a more perfect night." You say as you push him back and wedge yourself in so that you are the little spoon. "I love you, too."