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cavalierious-whim · 1 year ago

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Chock Full (Neuvithesley)

Part of 'Tea and Paperwork'. Wriothesley thinks tentacles might be fun. Read here on AO3. You can also, follow me on Twitter. Mrk1pk also drew some amazing art based on this fic, truly blessing me-- you can find it here on their Twitter! At the moment, my written work is my only source of income whilst I'm between jobs. Other ways that you can support can be found below-- even if HALF of my followers on Twitter follow my $1 Tier on Patreon, it'd be life-changing income for me, so if you love my work, please consider it! You can find my Ko-Fi and Commission Info/Shops here. You can purchase Digital PDFs of some of my works here on Gumroad. Pre-Orders for physical books of selected works are still open for preorder in my Big Cartel Shop here. And you can follow my Patreon here as well! --

Neuvillette is, occasionally, stunned by the beauty of his mate.

“Beloved,” he murmurs as he leans over him. Wriothesley's waist is soft underneath his palm. “You’re doing so well.”

They’ve played in many ways, but never quite like this. Wriothesley writhes in the sheets, held down by cool, slick tendrils of Hydro. Sweat beads across his brow and he moans, the sound hoarse with pleasure as his cock twitches and leaks against his stomach.

Neuvillette thumbs over scars as his claws trace Wriothesley's being. It is a matter of trust; that is what brings pleasure to this old dragon. To request it, to beg for Neuvillette to do as he wishes—It is a gift.

He marvels at the sight of Wriothesley tied down, relaxed in the sheets because he knows it will not be too much. That it’ll be perfect, and that Neuvillette will take care of him—which he will. Oh, he will. Neuvillette would do anything for his mate within reason.

“Is it too much?” he asks. His hair is unbound and loose, falling over his shoulder like a waterfall.

“No. No.” Wriothesley swallows. Neuvillette’s gaze hones in on the bob of his throat, the way that the scars there stretch with the movement.

“Do you want more?”

Hesitation; Wriothesley hesitates before saying, again, “No.” Quieter this time, a flighty groan that tumbles from his lips.

Perfectly acceptable. Neuvillette offers him a smile as his fingers trace the sharp line of his collarbone, as he thumbs across a nipple, as he drags his knuckles down Wriothesley's sternum to his navel. And then below.

“So, hear me out,” he’d said earlier with that well-known, lecherous glint in his eye. “I have a fun idea.”

That fun idea was for a Hydro tentacle to be shoved deep into Wriothesley's ass. The rest of him is tied to the bed by other slick tendrils, spread wide and open in a sordid display. Wriothesley could pull away if he wants—that’s a negotiated requirement—but he’s given in so easily this entire time.

“Does it feel good?” asks Neuvillette, cupping the small bulge that rests just above the base of Wriothesley's cock.

Wriothesley moans as the weight of Neuvillette’s palm presses down ever so slightly. One, two, three—that’s how many Wriothesley begged for. They are thin and viscous, altogether just a smidge larger than his draconian length, but long—far longer than what Wriothesley is used to. “Yes,” he says, his throat dry like the Sumeru desert.

Divine, thinks Neuvillette; the sound of it. Wriothesley has cried out in pleasure to the point of losing his voice. What a sight, a dream that will haunt Neuvillette for longer than he’d ever admit aloud. But this is Wriothesley, and his mate knows. Even now, lost in the throes of heat and pulled to the edge of spilling over, Wriothesley still manages to shoot him a smirk.

“Does it feel as good as my cock?”

That smirk falls. “No.”

Neuvillette chuckles at the response. “As both of my cocks?”

“No.” Wriothesley's bravado slips at the thought of it, Neuvillette can tell. That is another indulgence that requires time and preparation but is beloved.

“Sweet boy,” says Neuvillette, thumbing over the ridge where those tentacles push Wriothesley's gut to its limits. The bundle isn’t as thick as taking both of his dicks; no, this is a different kind of stretch, one that Neuvillette finds himself horrifically fascinated by.

“Neuvillette, please.”

Neuvillette looks at Wriothesley's face to find him pink-cheeked and slack-jawed. He pulls at the tentacles that tie him down which has Neuvillette clicking his tongue. “I thought you didn’t want more? Is this not enough?”

“It’s good,” says Wriothesley immediately. He rolls his hips, sliding across the tentacles to prove his point. Neuvillette is water incarnate so he can still feel it, the tight heat of Wriothesley's insides. A strange sensation he is unaccustomed to; it’s as if the entirety of his being is just…wholly consumed.

Neuvillette hums softly, considering him. “But?”

“Come on, give me your cock too.”

Neuvillette stills. His hand moves, knuckles brushing down Wriothesley's length. Neuvillette aches as well, his own cock hot and hard, spurred on by Wriothesley's goading. He has restraint. This is not a night where his facade threatens to crumble but he is enamored all the same.

He sweeps those fingers down, teasing the seam of Wriothesley's balls. They twitch, drawing up tight against his cock. Neuvillette presses his thumb into the smooth skin of his perineum just below, watching Wriothesley jerk in response.

“Fuck, fuck—”

“Soon,” says Neuvillette, the word tinkling with laughter. He traces Wriothesley's rim where it’s stretched smooth around the tentacles. Neuvillette thrusts them in and out once, twice, and delights in the way Wriothesely’s hole swallows them greedily. “You think you can take my cock as well? Together?”

Wriothesley huffs at that. Nothing but dirty talk, of course. These three tentacles pale in comparison to the girth of both his cocks together, but Neuvillette finds himself in a mood to tease. He thrusts them again, obsessed with the slick squelch as they slide deep.

And that bulge—the sight of it does things to him.

“That look—” Neuvillette blinks at Wriothesley's voice. “—you’re thinking about it, right? Fucking me with your cock too?”

Neuvillette finds himself thinking of breeding his mate and how he’d look gravid. How handsome he’d be on his knot, or laying those eggs; bearing their young—

“Would you like to know what I’m thinking of?” he purrs, a low rumble in his chest. Neuvillette sinks a thumb into Wriothesley alongside those tentacles, testing the give. Loose enough. Greedy for more. His thumb slides to the last knuckle and the both of them groan.

“Yes, yes—”

Neuvillette slicks his cock with his other hand. He pulls at Wriothseley’s hole, spreading it to press just the tip inside. He rolls his hips gently, rocking his cock deeper and deeper with every sweet thrust. The coolness of the tentacles offers a strange juxtaposition to the tight heat of Wriothesley's body.

“Oh gods,” murmurs Wriothesley. “Oh, oh fuck. Archons—”

Neuvillette growls at that, his next thrust a little rougher. “Wriothesley,” he snaps, hissing at the tight vice of his velvet insides the moment his thighs meet the soft swell of his mate’s ass.

Wriothesley whines. “Sorry, I just—” He yanks Neuvillette close, desperate to touch, desperate to breathe the same air. “Baby, please.”

How can he deny him? Neuvillette seeks out his mouth for a needy kiss, drowning in Wriothesley's taste. He moves, thrusting into him, his cock pulling out to the tip only to fuck right back in. “The Archons,” he muses, nipping at Wriothesley's mouth. “Not here. No, there is only a dragon here now.”

Wriothesley cries out his name as Neuvillette sinks his teeth into the meat of his shoulder. Hips rise and fall to meet every thrust of his cock. And those tentacles—Neuvillette slips a hand between them to pet that bulge again, those errant thoughts clouding his brain.

He will not last long; neither of them will. Wriothesley arches in the bed, stuffed full of his cock and tentacles, writhing in the sheets. He cries out, hoarse, begging for more, praising Neuvillette for how it feels, how much he loves it, how he needs more.

“Tentacles,” teases Neuvillette. He cups Wriothesley's face, thumbing at that scar underneath his eye. “You would ask for the most ridiculous of things. And now, it is my turn.”

“Neuvillette—”

“I was thinking of breeding you,” he says then, nosing at Wriothesley's temple. He smells like tea and leather, like unfettered desire and love. “My love, my beloved—all I can think about is fucking you full. Would you let me? Can I indulge in this fantasy?”

The answer is a resounding yes. Wriothesley comes the moment Neuvillette’s hand drops to stroke his cock. He clenches so tightly that Neuvillette’s free hand nearly shreds the sheets. “Just like that,” hisses Neuvillette, his next thrusts sharp and heavy.

He spills with a grunt, slicking Wriothesley's insides with his spend. Then he grinds deep, his hips slapping against Wriothesley's ass with a wet squelch. Wriothesley's neck is bared, deliciously on display. Neuvillette can’t help but suck a mark into it as his instincts nearly boil him alive.

It isn’t until Wriothesley brushes back his bangs that Neuvillette realizes his tentacles have melted away in that hazy aftermath. The bed is wet and sodden. Wriothesley shudders as Neuvillette moves, his cock shifting inside of him.

“Wait, no, stay.”

Neuvillette stays, collapsing against Wriothesley who just sighs against his face. He keeps petting his hair, fingers tracing down the long length of one of Neuvillette’s horns. There may be muttered words about a bath, about cleaning up, about resting—all of which Wriothesley ignores.

“So yeah, tentacles,” laughs Wriothesley. “I think you’re the one that needs rest, though. Did it hurt?”

“Hurt?”

“To admit your desires? It’s rare to hear such dirty talk from you—Ow—”

Neuvillette’s teeth sink into his flesh for a bite that’s a little too hard. Wriothesley hisses but doesn’t push him off, accepting his fate. And he loves it, Neuvillette knows he does; he’ll catch Wriothesley admiring the mark left behind in the mirror later.

“Mmhn. I love you,” he says, kissing that bite mark, soothing it with his tongue. “Even when considering your dubiously inclined preference for tentacles—”

“It isn’t a preference!”

Of course, not. But Neuvillette can’t help but be amused nonetheless.

#Cavalierious Fanfic #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin #genshin smut #neuvithesley #neuvillette/wriothesley #tea & paperwork

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docholligay · 1 year ago

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I talk about this a lot!

I have spent much of my life with a high level of human happiness, and this has been true even when I was what could be fairly called "up against it" in a financial-housing sense.

I credit a fair amount of this to two things, and a third thing I'll also mention, though it's not mentioned above:

I do things that are difficult and require a lot of personal work and discipline and sometimes suck very much. Doc this sounds not fun at all. Well, sometimes it isn't. I read challenging texts. I run long distances. I do very intense hikes. I try to learn embroidery and I swear a lot and boy am I not even close to basic skills there. BUT, I work hard at things that require me to struggle, and require me follow through, and when I DO I get not only a shot of dopamine, which is pretty easily obtained in modern society, but a longer lasting positive sense of self. My boot camp teacher doesn't tell us something isn't hard, she yells "You can do hard things!" and I think that's the key. I can do hard things. I know that about myself, when I do hard things. And this makes me feel like a person who is control of myself and my life, even when i am...struggling with that, and that feeling CARRIES, and lets me do things like planning menus, and cleaning up my office, and working on a hard craft project because I CAN DO HARD THINGS. I cannot tell you enough how much this sense of mastery can help carry you through difficulty in life, but you have to slog through the mud first. And to reiterate the above: Things you do on your computer do not count as much. They just don't, mentally. You can hate it as much as you like, but it is in fact true that building a tiny dollhouse out of superglue and popsicle sticks will make you feel better, long term, than minecraft.

I keep a fairly large group of in-person social connections. This is important for two reasons: In-person interactions count more, mentally. This isn't to say everyone has to be your best friend, but, you know, when you have positive contact with people in your day to day life, it is a good thing, that makes you feel good. And two, the 'touch grass' of human interaction-- I think it's really important to have relationships with people who don't agree with you, or have different shades of thought from you, and it's important to have to deal with that. I think online it can be so easy to get into these circles where there is almost groupthink, and I can be just as guilty as anyone else, I am not saying I'm God's special girl. But these relationships help you learn how to deal with disagreement in a civil way, keep you tapped into the idea that there's more than one way to think about things, and also remind you that people are, generally, more alike than we are different. I know I worked with the Plains Council talking to farmers and shit for years so I have some more experience with this than others, but people in person, like to get along. It is so easy online to see the world as polarized, and to turn cruel, and again, I AM AS GUILTY AS ANYONE ELSE. I have intense regrets about how I have handled some things in the past. But people, on balance, are good. And I'm not even talking about major "I think you should die stuff" I have people I know in person where, we're both Under The Rainbow Umbrella, but I, coming from a rural lesbian point of view, might think something seems really navel-gazing and with a lot of fuckin steps to not much changing, and they might think I oversimplify the human experience and the value in thinking about the micro-ways you interact with the universe, but they trust that I am essentially a decent person, and I trust that they are, and we can both shrug our shoulders and go, "Okay, whatever makes you happy" and that is VALUABLE because we, as human beings on this earth, if we want a better world, must see each other as fully human. Every fucking person, even Ted goddamn "coward" Cruz, has a spark of the divine. And in person, it is easier to see the glint of God in another person, and to allow them to see yours and this is DEFINITELY type two fun, but once you see it, you will see that spark in everyone and you will get greedy to make people the best they could be. Also, popping off and saying something stupid in person makes stronger friendships. You cannot love someone truly, and they can't love you, until they see where you are flawed, and broken, and is...I'm not gonna say impossible, but it is so easy to craft a version of yourself online that sands off the rough edges. (Cue every person who knows me in real life going: "uh did you assume that person had a spark of the divine when you upbraided them for cutting in line?") My online friends, who have become REAL friends--it's a fucking Velveteen rabbit situation. I have seen them in real life, and they have seen me UGLY, and they say, "And so am I" and, I can't tell you how nice this all is. To be a part of a world, the way you are.

Find the light. One time, not to overshare, I was in a rough situation, and I noticed the way the sun sparkled through the frost on the window. It was beautiful. I still think about that. I was cold, and things were not great, but that was beautiful. If you look, it's worth finding.

But definitely like, go outside and say hi to someone on your street and take up a real, physical hobby.

I think people get mixed up a lot about what is fun and what is rewarding. These are two very different kinds of pleasure. You need to be able to tell them apart because if you don't have a balanced diet of both then it will fuck you up, and I mean that in a "known cause of persistent clinical depression" kind of way.

#I added a bunch to this you're welcome and I'm sorry

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myupostsheadcanons · 1 year ago

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Book's "Read" In 2023

Ranking of the Audio Books I've "Read" this past year. This is my opinion on the books, as "Fun Garbage > Boring Navel Gazing" and books that may be objectively better written are not always fun or engaging to read. Sometimes a really good actor can make an average book sound really good.

List from 2022

Previous entries 2021, 2020. 2019, 2018, 2017

My Top Books/Series:

Rabbits - Terry Miles: If Ready Player One was good. There is a game called "Rabbits" being played that involves looking for "glitches in the matrix" in the world around you. The winner of the game gets an unknown wish. But this round of the game is off... something is wrong... people are dying... and our main character, her girlfriend, and their best friend are putting together the clues and finding out that there is more to reality than they first thought.

Under the Whispering Door - T. J. Klune: Asshole Lawyer dies and realizes he wasted his life. Finds himself in the waiting room to the afterlife, which is a little hipster coffee and tea shop out in the middle of the North West USA. He refuses to accept his death and lingers around the shop as a ghost... wacky adventures ensues.

Alice isn’t Dead - Joseph Fink: Woman becomes a truck driver while searching for her wife?/girlfriend/so that she thought died. Until one day she saw said wife in the background of a news report. There are wicked cannibals on the road and a secret Area 51 town of murderous ghouls.

Dead Water - C. A. Fletcher: Small Island Town in Scotland gets a zombie outbreak problem. From the same writer as "A Boy and His Dog At The End of the World"... The main character is a woman from Scandinavia that married into the family from the island, she became widowed and remained behind on the island. She ends up looking after her orphaned disabled niece as there is a festival inland that the grandparents and most of the villagers left to see. The author loves the Scrappy Dog Companion Trope, and I am all for that!

The Emperor’s Edge Series - Lindsay Buroker

Conspiracy, Blood and Betrayal, (Forgotten Ages Saga), Forged in Blood (Part 1 & 2)

This is one of Buroker's first series, older than the Star Kingdom, Fallen Empire, and Dragon's Gate Series. Many of her archetypes are present, the main female character gets a crush on the Dark and Mysterious Badass. The Badass may be a killer but has a code of honor and a secret soft spot that he eventually trusts the main character with. Lots of Snarky back-and-forth dialog between all the side characters, and the main character can usually talk people into doing what she wants.

The Forgotten Ages Saga is a Prequel to The Emperor's Edge series, but I HIGHLY suggest that it gets read before Forged in Blood, as it introduces us to General Starcrest and it will be easier to understand what goes on in Forged in Blood, and reading it after Blood and Betrayal doesn't spoil the 'zinger' twist about their world-setting.

Super Powereds - Drew Hayes

Year 2, Year 3, & Year 4

Drew Hayes's first real long-form novel series. It shows some of the clunkyness of being a first series that would later be hammered out before getting to Villains' Code, Fred The Vampire Accountant, and NPC's/SS&S. It is also one of those series where the books get bigger with each installment, the 4th book could kill a cat. (suggest listening to the audio books on a higher speed)

It has a lot of collage tropes from the 2000's, young people with super powers going to parties and drinking while worrying about grades and studies. The twist really wasn't much of a twist, as we could easily guess who the actual bad guy was early on and that who we thought was the bad guy wasn't really bad... I don't really care for the "everybody is related" kind of twist, where like half of the cast ends up being from the same family and all this was some kind of messed up family feud.

It is a Young Adult Series, but it feels like the characters are Young Adults and not written specifically for a YA crowd. There is still swearing, violence, has dark themes but it isn't grimdark (like Cline's Ex-Heroes series). Explores topics like discrimination, not just the main characters being Powered, but there is a plot line where one of the main character's father was disgraced hero because he was having a secret affair with an other guy. It isn't so much that this hero was outed as being gay that caused the son to be mad at him, but that the father left them and broke contact with them that causes most of the rift in their relationship. There is a spin-off series called CORPIES that follows along on the Father trying to get back into the super hero game that takes place along side Book 3.

Other Favorite Books/Guilty Pleasures

The Grief of Stones (Goblin Emperor, Book 3) - Kathrine Addison: It was left a little ambiguous if there is going to be more in this series near the end, or if the author is going to change protagonists for another in later books. Third book in the Goblin Emperor Universe, Second in the Witness for the Dead series. The Witness for the Dead books can be read together, they are shorter together than the GE book. I wouldn't mind there being an on going series where new protagonists take over the narrative as the series progress and expand on the world building. The Witness for the Dead series is made for getting people familiar with how people live in their world... because we can't escape death no matter how rich or lucky you are.

Villains Vignettes Vol. 1. (Villains' Code, Book 2.5) - Drew Hayes: A collection of short stories that take place in the Villains' Code Universe: Including a Halloween-Town-themed story and a Christmas story where Santa is real and Fornax has to save the North Pole. Another is a better version of "Glory Road" (see bottom of list), but it is Ivan/Fornax instead and he was summoned to save a planet from demons... and leaving a trail of bodies behind.

A Fallen Empire Omnibus (Books 1 - 3) - Lindsay Buroker: Aftermath of a Revolution War that did not plan out what was to happen with the freed systems once out from under Empire Rule, and lawlessness spreads across the galaxy with entire systems left to defend for themselves. A former Revolution Army Pilot wants to head home to her daughter, but travel is expensive and the only known means of escaping the planet is by a freighter ship that was once owned by her mother. However, a Empire Super Soldier Cyborg got to the ship first and has somewhere else he wants to go. (This is a Lindsay Buroker Book, and considering her other "ships" from the other series, the main female lead gets the hots for the troubled and dangerous badass)

Eyes of the Void (The Final Architecture, Book 2) - Adrian Tchaikovsky: The Architects are on the move again, and even places that were once safe from attack are no longer. A race of people in the past left artifacts behind that once repelled the Architects. Our protags find themselves on a planet that has a city of these ruins upon it that is being systematically devastated. Humanity is fractured and don't hold an united front against the threat.

Noble Roots (Spells, Swords, and Stealth, Book 5) - Drew Hayes: Their is an estate that holds a tournament of challenges with prizes at the end for the winning team. Not a whole lot to say, one of those books that you will love if you already read the ones that came before it.

Farilane (Rise and Fall, Book 2) - Michael J. Sullivan: The one book this year that had me crying at the end... But by that point I've spent 10 books following that one character's journey and got attached to the main character of this one.

Kingdoms at War (Dragon Gate, Book 1) - Lindsay Buroker: Sweet Sciencey-Magic. A setting where magic acts more like science fiction. The Dragons created gates that allowed them to travel between worlds, the dragons left one world but the gates remained behind. The gates and the metal they are made of are very valuable and wars are fought over the possession of the gates, even though the means to use them is unknown. A young man and his mother figure out how to use these Gates to some degree and become wanted fugitives. (one of the villains is a r-pist, so this is a very much adult series)

Flight of the Magpies - K. J. Charles: Get some good smut in with your Supernatural Victorian-London Crime-solving.

The Sandman (Act 3) - Neil Gaiman: The majority of this installment involves Orpheus, Morpheus's son: their past, why they fell out with each other, and Morpheus reconciling with his son.

The 13th God (Cycle of Galand, Book 8) - Edward W. Robertson: Dante and Blaze are still trying to save the mortal realm, this time it requires having to kill a God and they have to team up with another villain to do so. I love this series... but even at this point, I hope it gets wrapped up in the next couple books.

Travel by Bullet (The Dispatcher, Book 3) - John Scalzi: If you like the early Dresden Books, give this series a shot. Uses the unique "people can't die of unnatural causes" rule, while people try to cause crimes and find work-arounds to killing other people or themselves.

Good Books, But Not Everybody's Cup-of-Tea

Song of Night (Dying Lands Chronicle, Book 2) - Jacob Cooper: Read the first book a few years ago. There is a "redemption" arc in this installment, a new prominent character who was a villain long ago becomes good and is trying to fix things (like Caeden from Licanius Trilogy or Malcolm from Riyria)

The Mad Mage of Sevendor & Marshal Arcane (The Spellmonger, Book 14.5 & 15) - Terry Mancour: The Mad Mage is a collection of Diary Entries from Minalan recording personal events that happened during Marshal Arcane. It comes off as if these entries could've been slotted in between the earlier chapters of MA, when Min isn't the person telling the story but the secondary people around him getting their first-person spotlight chapter.

Seas The Day & High Gloom (The Bad Guys Series) - Eric Ugland: Morally Gray Main Character, human gets Isekai'd into a MMORPG. The Gods of Good and Evil fight for his favor, and he frequently pisses off both of them. Don't get too attached to side characters.

Explorer of the Endless Sea & Fate of the Free Lands (Empress of the Endless Sea, Book 2 & 3) - Jack Campbell: Read Book 1 a couple years ago. A prequel to the faux-fantasy series Pillars of Reality. The series as a whole heavily reminds people about the Prophecy that a savior will be born to free the people from the oppressive governments that run their world. This series is about the woman Jules, who's decedent would one day be that person.

Resolute (The Lost Fieet: Outlands, Book 2) - Jack Campbell: Continuation of one of my favorite space series, with the most realistic space battles I've came across. This is like the 20th book in the canon, starting with The Lost Fleet: Dauntless. They are short books, can be consumed in under 12 hours each.

Vampire Hunter D: Riser of Gales, Vampire Hunter D: Demon Deathchase (Vampire Hunter D, Book 2 & 3) - Hideyuki Kikuchi: Riser of Gales is D coming across a hidden Noble fortress. In the recent past, a group of kids from a nearby town went missing exploring the fortress grounds, but showed up with loss of memory as to what happened. They did not come back whole. At least one graphic scene of sexual abuse to a minor... Demon Deathchase is the book that Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust was mostly adapted from.

Architects of Memory, Engines of Oblivion (The Memory War, Book 1 & 2) - Karen Osborne: Classism in Space. The non-citizens are poor and live as indentured servants to the mega corporations that govern society. Aliens seek out an artifact that contained the memories of their people, lost during the war they had with humans that they ended abruptly. Has a "Darth Vader" twist between the antagonist and the main character.

Priest of Lies (War for the Rose Throne, Book 2) - Peter McLean: Punk street thug, to mob boss, to wealthy lord... and not by choice. Strings are being pulled, people he once depended on can no longer be, and former allies turn as they become angered by the MC's rapid jump in status, "becoming what he once despised."

Doors of Eden - Adrian Tchaikovsky: in some paces the walls between the multiverse is thin. LGBTQ book, the main character is trying to find her lost girlfriend that fell through one of these Doors into another world. The other is a transwoman that discovered the method of creating these portals. Rich asshole bad guy.

Malefactor (War with No Name) - Robert Repino: The Sad and Depressing books about animals turned humanoid. Peace is fragile between the animals and humans, a wolf pack in the woods is stirring up discontent and rebellion.

The Elfor One (The Code Series, Book 3) - R. R. Haywood: Final book in the trilogy. They free the ships from the shadow organization and bring equality to the Lower 40's.

Stormbringer (Elric Saga, Vol 2), The White Wolf (Elric Saga Vol. 3) - Michael Moorcock: Elric fights Nazzis.

A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking - T. Kingfisher: cute story, not as fun as Too Many Curses, but on the same quality and reading level. Main character should've been older (16-18ish) because she acted more like a sheltered adult rather than a kid. Bread Wizard. The Yeast Beast is the best character.

Second Hand Curses - Drew Hayes: a group of cursed story characters team up to create a task force to resolve various curses around the literary world. Hunting down wicked witches is their specialty.

Posthumous Education (Fred The Vampire Accountant, Book 8) - Drew Hayes: I love the idea, a collage for the supernatural. Kinda getting sick of Quinn's schemes tho after so many books. Dude's gotta go, please, sometime in the next couple books, Drew.

The Halloween Moon - Joseph Fink: If you liked Gravity Falls, Goosebumps, and Welcome to Nightvale. A story for middle-school aged kids that isn't too childish for older people to enjoy.

God of Neverland - Gama Ray Martinez: Peter Pan goes missing. Michael Darling, now an adult, worked for the Magical Detective Agency. He is sent to Never-Neverland to solve the problem. Jaded Adult Visiting a Magical Land of Fantasy ruled by The God of Children.

Average Sauce

Ithaca - Claire North: It tells the story of Penelope through the voice of Hera and her omnipresence in the story. There is a lot of "men are either scum or useless" messaging and that powerful women get punished unfairly.

Pandora’s Jar & Stone Blind: A Novel - Natalie Haynes: Pandora's Jar is closer to an Essay on Women in Greek Mythology. Stone Blind is a retelling of the Medusa Myth, and why she was different from her other sisters and the loss of her compassion after her death.

The Archived - Victoria Schwab: Girl and her Family move into a spooky old hotel that was converted into apartments. Girl is a ghost-buster. Runs into two guys around her age that become potential love interests. One of them ends up the villain, and it isn't the nice guy.

Gallant - V. E. Schwab: A girl from an orphanage is found by a long-lost relative and moves to a creepy house. There is something spooky living in the shadows of the estate grounds. Author needs to work on Villain Twists.

Persephone Station - Stina Leicht: Main characters are women and non-binary on the LGBTQ spectrum, working as a team of Special Ops Mercs for Hire. The natives of the planet are being killed by the colonist humans. Main characters are sent out on a suicide mission to save the natives.

Sword Stone Table: Old Legends, New Voices - Swapna Krishina, Jenn Northington: Retelling of King Arthur but with Women, LGBTQ, and POC taking the roles of the main characters. Some of my favorite versions is the Latino Baseball Player, A Wild West Prospector turn Mogul, and Merlin visiting the AIDS clinic as a fake magician.

Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa: The Badass Swordsman. Based on a real person, but this is extra meme. Written in an era of wanting to glorify the Empire of Japan around WW2. Lots of elements went on to be used more commonly in fighting manga, movies, and other media from Japan. Adapted into several TV series and a manga (Vagabond).

The Sheep Dragon (Unconventional Heroes) - L. G. Estrella: an in-between book. Most of the stories follow around Spot The Dragon and a scheme of Timmy's to breed sheep with special wool properties. The series has a habit of getting lost in the minutia, and over explaining things.

Cosmic Delivery Boy - L. G. Estrella: Over explaining things looks to be a quark of the Author themselves. I don't always mind it. Explaining how the Cosmic Hamsters rule over multi-dimensional shipping, how the MC's new job works, and the dynamics of the different worlds they visit. I am not nearly as invested with the world and characters as I am with the author's Unconventional Heroes books.

The Great Courses: They are Educational, non-Fiction.

Albert Einstein: Physicist, Philosopher, Humanitarian (The Great Courses) - Prof. Don Howard

England: From the Fall of Rome to the Norman Conquest (The Great Courses) - Prof. Jennifer Paxton

King Arthur: History and Legend (The Great Courses) - Dorsey Armstrong

The Iliad of Homer, The Odyssey of Homer, The Aeneid of Virgil (The Great Courses) - Elizabeth Vandiver

Readable/Passable

The Red Sphinx (The Three Musketeers) - Alexandre Dumas: A political, historical fiction novel taking place in the same timeline as The Three Musketeers, they do not appear in this novel. Lots of names, intrigue, and court politics done by a cast of over-the-top characters. The only real "downer" part of the book was a chapter on the Plague. The version I read had an additional story at the end to resolve an abandoned love story plot, it was better/more memorable than the book itself.

Archetype - M. D. Waters: An 'updated' version of The Handmaid's Tale. Women are having fewer children and the poor women are being bought and sold as slaves. A technique was discovered to restore the fertility of women, but is only accessible to the super rich. Main character is one of the women in the program, placed there by her husband; she has holes in her memories and her memories were not lining up as they return to her. (expect a lot of gaslighting, manipulation, and "women vs. men" flag waving)

The Collective Works of Arthur C. Clarke - Arthur C. Clarke: Clark was one of those authors that didn't understand women IRL. It is reflected in a majority of his stories that the women are not the main characters through most of his career, and often were treated as passive and either only going along with the men, being in the way, or only pined after when absent. Like most Old School Science Fiction - many stories had cool concepts, but poor execution.

The Dark Decent of Elizabeth Frankenstein - Kiersten White: It would've been a better story if it wasn't restrained by the Young Adult genre. It wanted to go grimdark, but had to hold itself back when it would've been better to just full-send it. It depicted Victor as someone who was a sociopath since childhood and Beth was adopted into the family as a "nanny friend" that became dependent on him. She would lie for him when ever he "slips up" and was a passive protagonist for most of the story.

Bottom of the Barrel

Lord of Light - Roger Zelazny: Masters of hyper advanced technology that have taken over civilization using the names of old Earth Gods. The idea that "the gods aren't that much different than the people that created them" but in a science fiction setting.

The WORST

Glory Road - Robert A. Heinlein: Ex-Pat, Ex-Soldier Libertarian gets Isekai'd into a Conan The Barbarian Type Fantasy World. Tip toes around the idea of "is this advanced tech or is it magic?" Man solves problems of backwoods Fantasy Stereotypical world through being a dick to most people (a typical Heinlein Hero).

#myu reads #books read in 2023 #2023 books #booklr #book review #book recommendations #read a book #text wall #long post

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new-sandrafilter · 2 years ago

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The Chalamet Effect: Timothée Talks Fate, Fashion And Being An Old Soul

At 26, Timothée Chalamet is already a consummate, cool-as-they-come movie star. As he gets set to become the actor of his generation, Giles Hattersley goes in search of the real boy wonder. Photographs by Steven Meisel. Styling by Edward Enninful.

BY GILES HATTERSLEY

15 September 2022

He arrives, a princeling in jeans and a rock-metal T-shirt, bounding sprite-like from one of those blacked-out Cadillac tanks preferred by the famous (reluctant or otherwise). It’s June in New York and Timothée Chalamet’s hometown is gently sweltering. But, for once, the paps are nowhere to be seen and so his body language is a joy to behold, as he bounces into Champs, a vegan diner in Brooklyn, somehow channelling both a street-style star and Buster Keaton.

We’re shooting a Vogue video. He enters with curls un-frizzed, a smile that reaches all the way to his eyes and a head to shoulder ratio rarely glimpsed outside of children’s drawings. In a swift half-decade, this publicity-averse, sensitive, ambitious, inscrutable dreamer has become both art-house stalwart (Call Me by Your Name) and box-office king (Dune). Then something odder (certainly rarer) occurred. A baton was placed in his hand, passed down the decades by dint of James Dean and River Phoenix, David Cassidy and Leonardo DiCaprio: Chalamet became boyfriend to an entire generation. In fact, it was DiCaprio (in a moment of near-literal baton passing when they first met in 2018) who bequeathed Timmy his career rule: “No hard drugs and no superhero movies.” So far, so good. Give or take. Oh, to be 26 and Hollywood’s most wanted.

Timothée wears vintage T-shirt, Contemporary Wardrobe. Leather trousers, Balmain. Steven Meisel

And wow do they want him. “I…” he says, laughing, unsure what to do with that information. It should be noted that Chalamet’s default setting is uncertainty. Thoughtful, courteous, smart? Absolutely. Able to articulate a definite opinion about anything? Absolutely not. Never mind. The charm is very real: “We met before,” he says, recalling some 3am dance floor-adjacent small talk we had a few years ago. Far from the navel-gazing “f**k boy” the internet occasionally likes to paint him as, he’s checked my Instagram and read some past interviews. Immediately he wants to talk about Lady Gaga, who he doesn’t know but finds “fascinating!” He is a rare interviewee – albeit a classic deflector – in that he much prefers to ask the questions: “Where are you staying?” “What did you think of [the London production of] Cabaret?” “How are you feeling?” Of course, once the recorder is running, the fidgeting begins in earnest. “But for Luca, anything,” he says of Luca Guadagnino, auteur supreme, in whose Bones & All Chalamet stars this autumn as cannibal drifter Lee. Part road movie, part addiction allegory, he plays opposite Taylor Russell on a bloodied, nomadic flee through America. It is a performance so pristinely heartbreaking, so tenderly horrific, so violent and vulnerable, it feels – as his work so often does – like he’s carved out a new genre of man.

Call it the Timothée effect. It’s everywhere, bewitching fans, directors, fellow actors, fashion houses and now British Vogue, for whom the half-French, half-American, fourth-generation New Yorker becomes the first man to appear solo on the print cover. We meet again the following day in SoHo. He keeps a rental apartment in the city, and his parents only live uptown, but he prefers staying in hotels, so we head up to the pool deck of The Dominick, his current bolthole, where the hostess leads us to some lounge chairs, her eyes bugging silently at the celebrity angel who has touched down to earth in the middle of her shift.

Eyes bug a lot with Timmy. In return, you occasionally spot a flash of kindly exhaustion in his. His manners are almost comically superb and an antenna attuned to the energy of absolutely everyone around him at all times is a terrific resource for an actor – enervating for a human, though. “I hate talking about this kind of stuff, but like the pressure of, you know, being in the public eye, whatever the f**k that means,” he says, annoyed by the concept even. He finds the world too desperate for answers to questions he doesn’t have answers for. “It’s always like, ‘Who are you?’ ‘Do you know who you are?’” It’s possible he does not. To be honest, after a while in his company you start to wonder if you know who you are either. His small talk has this habit of pulling at the fabric of time and space. “You’re the captain of your fate,” he says excitedly at one point. “Master of your fate and captain of your soul. Like those things where you can, like, draw with both knobs.” An Etch A Sketch? “Exactly. You shake it up and then it’s all gone. You can’t just keep building on the same Etch A Sketch.”

This analogy ends up haunting me for days. Not that there aren’t flashes of more earthly self-reflection: “I had a delusional dream in my early teenage years to have, in my late teenage years, an acting career,” he says. “And in my late teenage years, working on Homeland and starting to do theatre in New York, I felt like I reduced my goal to something more realistic, which was to work in theatre and hopefully make enough money doing either a TV show or something I could sustain myself [with]. And then it felt like every dream came true, exponentially. And then life is moving at six million miles per hour.”

Leather waistcoat and leather trousers, Gucci. Cotton vest, Intimissimi. Leather boots, Miu Miu. Bandana, Rockins. Steven Meisel

“When Covid hit, it required me to take a step back and be humbled to the idea that the greatest rock star…” panic suddenly crinkles his features. “No, I don’t want to use that word, sorry, sorry. Scratch rock star. But [everyone has to] deal with, like, taxes and the dentist and real adulting, you know? I should have been trying to get my adult feet under myself a little bit earlier than I did,” he says. “I found myself having to really, you know, be honest with myself that where I’ve been able to get myself to in life was balls to the wall, like throwing everything at [it] at a young age that, by some miracle, got me to where I am. But to then transition to an adulting mindset…” Taxes and the dentist? He laughs. “I’ve always paid my taxes, I always went to the dentist, but I’m suddenly very aware of that.” It’s classic quarter-life stuff, lived at hyper-speed. “So the ways I feel older than 26 I have always felt,” he says, relaxing. “It’s not like I feel like I’ve had some mental breakthrough that has given me perspective. The perspective that feels ‘old man’, I feel like I was born with it.” Such as? “The empath thing, the thinking for everyone in the room, the sort of misplaced idea, this sort of illusion, of control based on trying to feel for everyone.” In Bones & All, reunited with Guadagnino, who directed him to an Oscar nomination for Call Me by Your Name, he wove elements of himself into the character. “With Lee, the illusion of control is based on feeling for no one and not even interacting with anyone.” That Lee’s affliction is cannibalism, not being very famous, perhaps gives some insight into the extreme head-f**k of the latter. “And I guess that’s where I’m at.”

Does the institutionalisation of a film set suit you? “Yeah. But then no, because I want experiences to be unique.” He likes the immediacy, the rough and readiness, of some social media, he says. “There’s a benefit to the TikTok generation that I feel like I’m a part of too: selfies and stuff, and the comfort with the camera.” Are you talking about the two selfies you post a year, I tease? “Oh, man,” he says, chuckling. “You know, you know.” He is of his generation and yet no two-dimensional exemplar. Confessional Instagram Live rambler Timothée is not. Manifestly shy, self-conscious, perhaps a little scared of what people think of him, he does not find a balm for his issues in forging digital intimacy with millions of followers. To be honest, he doesn’t really like to talk about what he had for breakfast.

Or, heaven forbid, his romantic life. Do you ever imagine yourself as a father one day? As a husband? There follows an almighty pause. “You know what, I’m going to get back to you on that.”

Mostly his love life has been revealed in the grainy pixels of paparazzi long lenses. The twin pillars of young celebrity – dating and deals – have not been cashed in on. Is it true he’s never shot a fashion campaign? “Yeah, I haven’t done any.” Surely you’ve been offered everything? He blinks, politely. “When [success] came my way, I felt very particular that I didn’t want people and I really didn’t want to see myself cashing in,” he says. He adores fashion, is close friends with several designers and has worn floral Alexander McQueen and glittering Louis Vuitton on red carpets to internet-breaking effect. Even today, in perfect denim shorts, a simple tee and a smattering of jewellery, he looks spot on. As for his feelings on being British Vogue’s first solo man cover star? “The nature of the world now, you know... It felt right to not make it too statement-y,” he says. He didn’t want to overthink it or overstep. He just wanted to play some characters, to live the fashion. He loved the shooting process, loved incorporating womenswear into the styling and likens working with Steven Meisel to Denis Villeneuve.

Archive chain-mail top, Stella McCartney. Pearl and palladium-plated necklace, Justine Clenquet. Leather and silver stud bracelet, Chrome Hearts. Steven Meisel

For much of the past year, he’s been living in London, filming the upcoming movie musical Wonka, an origin tale of the early life of the Roald Dahl anti-hero. Directed by Paul King, of Paddington fame (be still my beating heart), he leads a cast of Brits including Olivia Colman, Paterson Joseph and Rowan Atkinson. When a first glimpse of him in costume surfaced online – in crimson velvet, smouldering under a top hat – the internet lost its mind. “In this one, Wonka f**ks” read one memorable tweet. Chalamet starts cracking up. “You know what’s really funny about that is it’s so misleading. This movie is so sincere, it’s so joyous.” How many musical numbers do you have? “Seven!” Making it provided a perfect situation for him: escape. “I hate to say it, but the dream as an artist is to throw whatever the f**k you want at the wall, you know? And I guess what I’m realising is that one’s personal life, one’s adult life, can be quite boring and the artist’s life can still be extraordinary.”

With that he pulls his cap down and puts his defences up, ready to weave through the busying bar area and up to his room. In a few weeks he’ll travel to Budapest to film the second instalment of Dune, then to Venice to launch Bones & All, and then ever onwards, up and up and up. But he worries a key point has been missed. “I’m grateful,” he says. He gives me a hug and asks me to be kind. A man caught in the stasis of life’s first quarter, always looking for the answers.

The October 2022 issue of British Vogue is on newsstands on Tuesday 20 September.

#timmy #timothee chalamet

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chalamet-chalamet · 2 years ago

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It should be noted that Chalamet’s default setting is uncertainty. Thoughtful, courteous, smart? Absolutely. Able to articulate a definite opinion about anything? Absolutely not. Never mind. The charm is very real: “We met before,” he says, recalling some 3am dance floor-adjacent small talk we had a few years ago. Far from the navel-gazing “f**k boy” the internet occasionally likes to paint him as, he’s checked my Instagram and read some past interviews

- Giles Hattersley (British Vogue, Sept. 15)

#timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet #vogue #british vogue #September 15 #Giles Hattersley

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djarinsbeskar · 3 years ago

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Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

Text

Reassurance

masterlist

part one

Summary: Spencer feels insecure, and Reader puts his worries to rest.

A/N: I got several requests to write a follow-up to Avoidance , and after writing almost the whole entire thing, only to scrap it all because it was literal trash, here we are! I initially planned to go a different route with this, but it didn’t flow right and I ended up changing the entire plot line somewhere along the way. I really like how this turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy it, too!

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom!Reader

Content warnings: cursing, Spencer being insecure, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), anal fingering, pegging, light degradation, Spencer experiencing sub-drop

Word Count: 6k

Spencer’s lips drag against mine at a slow, deliberate pace as I sit perched on his lap, my hands tugging lightly at where his hair curls at the nape of his neck. One particularly harsh tug has Spencer gasping into my mouth and tightening his grip on my hips, pulling me down until I’m fully sat on his lap. The bulge tenting his slacks comes in full contact with my clothed core and I hum appreciatively against his lips.

“Getting excited there, baby?”

Spencer lets out a whine of protest when I pull away, leaning forward in an attempt to reunite our lips. I press my hand flat against his chest and push him back until he rests against the couch cushions.

“I thought you wanted to watch a movie tonight?” I ask him, my lips curled up into a knowing smile. Spencer’s thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into my hips as he fixes me with a shy smile.

“Maybe later,” he replies, sheepish. He looks breathtaking - bathed in the soft glow of the lamp light, shadows dancing across every perfectly chiseled inch of his face. Faint purple bruises dot the underside of his jaw line, remnants of the last time we had been afforded enough time to get tangled up under the bedsheets. I press my thumb to one of them, applying just enough pressure to cause Spencer’s breath to hitch. In another day or two, the purple and yellow discoloration would be gone, leaving no trace of our time together.

I release my hold on his jaw and make a mental note to see to it that he has another set of pretty marks before the weekend is over.

“Later?” I lift the hand that was splayed across his chest until I’m able to fiddle with the top button on his dress shirt. “You talk as if you have something else you’d like to do first. Care to share?” Spencer squirms underneath my gaze, eyes flitting between my lips and where I’m pressed firmly against his erection. I watch him flounder to come up with a response before deciding to forgo words completely and rut himself against me, eyelids fluttering closed as he lets out a low whine.

I click my tongue at him and raise up until my center hovers over him, torturously close but not quite close enough to touch.

“What’s the matter, Doctor? It’s not like you to be at a loss for words,” I taunt as I pop open the last three buttons of his shirt. Now that the milky white skin of his chest is on full display, I waste no time in dragging my fingernails from his collarbone down to his navel, light and teasing. The action elicits a shiver from Spencer, who looks up at me with glossy eyes and blown pupils.

“P-Please,” he stutters out.

“Please, what?” I prod, cocking my head to the side. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Spencer’s tongue pokes out to run across his bottom lip.

“I want you,” he breathes out, low and sultry. “Now. Don’t wanna wait.”

I let out a pleased sigh as I lean forward to capture Spencer’s lips in a heated kiss. Spencer’s quick to reciprocate, eagerly licking into my mouth as soon as my lips brush against his.

It’s not long until I feel the hands on my waist begin to tug me back down onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from me.

“Such a needy little thing,” I murmur against his lips.

Usually, a comment like this would be met by some sort of mumbled affirmation. But this time, as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel Spencer’s whole body tense up beneath me.

“Does… Does that bother you?”

I pull away and give Spencer an inquisitive look.

“Does what bother me?”

Spencer averts his eyes, “That I’m so submissive.” He spits the word out like it burns his mouth – like it’s something to be ashamed of – and I can’t suppress my frown.

“Why would that ever bother me?”

Spencer gives a feeble shrug of his shoulders, still refusing to pull his gaze from where it rests on the floor.

“I read an article in Psychology Today that discussed a survey in which 172 German adults completed a personality questionnaire and then measured their own preference for a dominant partner. Not only was the general consensus that both genders prefer dominant partners, the participants also agreed with statements like ‘a very nice partner is often boring’ and ‘I feel attracted to assertive partners.’ So, it’s only natural that you might get tired of me always being such a pushover and search for a more exciting partner than can keep you stimulated-”

I clamp my hand down on Spencer’s mouth, effectively ending his self-deprecating rant and forcing him to look up from where his eyes were burning a hole into the floor. When I know he isn’t going to try and continue down that particularly awful train of thought, I remove my hand.

“First of all, you are not a pushover. Insinuating that you are a pushover would also be insinuating that I’m taking advantage of you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?” Spencer’s eyes grow wide and he frantically shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. I… I love what you do to me – with me. What we do together. I-I just want to be sure that you like it to. That you’re not just humoring me until someone who can actually give you what you want comes around.”

I feel my mouth fall open from shock somewhere during the middle of his spiel. He can’t actually be so oblivious to the fact that I enjoy the hell out of our sex life, can he?

Apparently, he can and he is, because Spencer takes my silence as affirmation.

“I could try? To d-dom you, that is. I’ve been reading up on it and-”

“Spencer, where on earth did this come from?”

Spencer blinks hard, “I told you – I read it in Psychology Today.”

I shake my head at him and slip off of his lap and onto the couch cushion beside him.

“No, that’s not what I meant. What made you think that I’m not happy with our sex life?”

“N-Nothing in particular,” Spencer stammers. “I just know that I’m not exactly the most masculine guy, and I want to make sure that you’re, you know… happy. With me.”

And there it is.

I reach for Spencer’s hand and link our fingers together.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that comment Derek made this morning, would it?” Spencer doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes drop to his lap tells me everything I need to know. I tighten my grip on his hand. “You know he was just messing with you, right? As out of line as it was, he was just being… Derek.”

“He wasn’t wrong, though. I am extremely docile – along with a litany of other very passive traits. I’m not strong or assertive or confident like Derek; I’m basically the complete opposite of the ideal male partner. All I’m good for is spouting out information that’s only sometimes useful. No wonder you don’t want to-” Spencer clamps his mouth shut and his cheeks burn red. “Forget it. C-Can we pretend this conversation never happened?”

“No wonder I don’t want to what?” I prod, brows furrowed in confusion. But still, Spencer refuses to meet my eyes. “And as far as all the other stuff goes, it doesn’t matter if you’re assertive or strong. I prefer my sweet, gentle boy over guys like Derek Morgan, any day. My ideal male partner just so happens to be pretty boys with curly brown hair and massive IQs, not aggressive alpha males with overinflated egos.” I bring Spencer’s hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “I’m being serious, Spence. There’s a lot to love about you.”

Spencer’s next words are hushed, so quiet that I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Then why haven’t you told anyone about us yet?”

In the two months since our first time together, neither of us had been brave enough to broach the subject of what exactly we were doing. With neither of us quite sure how to go about defining the relationship, we’d fallen into a sort of routine. Whenever it came time to pair off for the night and retreat to our hotel rooms, Spencer and I always made sure that we were paired together. Hotch never seemed to care – he was just happy that we weren’t walking on eggshells around each other anymore - and the others were kind enough to keep their suspicions to themselves. On the weekends, or really any time that we weren’t working a case, time off was spent in each other’s company, be it at Spencer’s place or mine. Days full of impromptu adventures to farmer’s markets and niche antique shops devolved into passionate nights spent learning every inch of each other’s skin until no stone was left unturned. It was the perfect arrangement.

Or at least it would’ve been, if Spencer and I hadn’t managed to fall half way in love somewhere along the way. It was glaringly obvious early on that it was way more than just sexual chemistry that kept us both coming back for more, but owning up to that fact was a whole other issue that neither of us was ready to deal with.

Until now, apparently.

“I-I mean, we haven’t talked about what exactly this is, so I wasn’t quite sure how to go about that,” I stammer. “But now that you’ve brought it up…”

Spencer finally looks up and his eyes are filled to the brim with equal parts fear and hope.

“I-I really want there to be an us,” he whispers. “I kind of thought that much was obvious.”

“And I thought the fact that I have absolutely zero complaints in the bedroom was obvious, but here we are,” I tease, and Spencer lets out an involuntary giggle when I poke at his side. “I want there to be an us, too. And for what it’s worth, I like you just the way you are, Spencer Reid - just so we’re clear.”

“Really?” Spencer persists. From anyone else, it would seem like they were fishing for compliments, but from Spencer? I knew my sweet, darling boy just needed some reassurance.

I lean forward and capture his lips in a long, languid kiss.

“Really really,” I mumble when I pull away. “Have I done a thorough enough job drilling that into your head, or do you need some more convincing?”

“More convincing,” Spencer replies as he ducks in for another kiss. “Lots and lots of convincing.”

I smile against his lips, “That’s good to hear, because I sorta had a little something special planned for you.”

“Something special?”

I slide my hand from its place on his knee until my fingers glide across the tip of his clothed cock.

“Remember that thing we talked about last week?”

I can feel the way Spencer’s cock twitches under my hand and I have to bite back a smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

I give his bulge a light squeeze that has Spencer moaning low in his throat.

“Only if you want to. There’s no pressure at all. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’d be perfectly fine if you just wanna watch that movie and cuddle a bit - you know that right?”

“Yes, but I still want to,” Spencer chokes out. “Very, very much.” And then he’s bringing a hand up to cup my face before slotting our lips together again.

The kiss is sloppy, seeing as we’re both much too excited to worry about being precise. Spencer spends time exploring my body with his free hand, starting at my hips and then dipping underneath my t-shirt. Spencer’s hand is just shy of skimming over my bra when I pull back and he lets out a frustrated whine when I pull his hands off of me.

“I wanna ask you a few things before we do this, okay, baby?” Spencer flushes a deep crimson as he nods. “Have you ever experimented with any sort of anal play before?”

“N-No, I haven’t. Is that okay?”

Spencer Reid, you are going to be the death of me.

“That’s perfectly fine, sweet boy,” I coo. “I’m just trying to get a feel for what’s going to be the most comfortable for you. We’ll start small and work our way up, okay?” Spencer nods, prompting me to tack on an, “Assuming that you want to, that is. This is all on your terms, and I need to make sure that you know that nothing’s going to happen that you don’t expressly consent to first.”

Spencer’s lips pull up into a sweet smile.

“I know, and I trust you,” he says. “And I consent to it. To all of it.”

“You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that,” I chuckle. “What exactly are you consenting to?”

Spencer shifts in his seat, “Y-You know.”

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it, baby.”

Spencer gulps hard, “I-I want you to fuck me. Please.”

I let out a satisfied hum and remove my hand from Spencer’s lap.

“I want you to go to the bedroom and take off all your clothes. Then I want you to lie in the center of the bed and if I walk in and see you touching yourself, I’ll walk right back out and I won’t touch you for a month. Are we clear?”

“Y-Yes, Miss.”

I spend much longer than necessary in the living room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through my phone for nearly ten minutes before getting up and making my way to the bedroom. The anticipation is half of the fun, in my opinion, and I take great pleasure in imagining Spencer squirming against the sheets, desperate for me to walk through that door.

I rid myself of my skirt and blouse as I make my way down the hallway, leaving me in only my panties and bralette. I can hear Spencer’s heavy breathing before I even reach the bedroom, and it makes my stomach flip excitedly as I push open the door.

Spencer lays in the middle of the bed, hands grabbing at the sheets as he rolls his hips in vain. His cock stands painfully hard, leaking precum and bobbing up and down with every motion of his hips. Spencer doesn’t see or hear me when I come in – his eyes are closed tight and his bottom lip is nestled between his teeth, blissfully oblivious as he ruts up into nothing.

“It seems like my poor, needy boy has worked himself up into quite a state.”

The sound of my voice startles him and he immediately halts the movement of his hips. Spencer’s eyes watch on and I walk over to the night stand, taking my time as I remove a bottle of lube, my harness, and the newly purchased dildo bought especially for my sweet boy.

Spencer’s eyes linger on the silicone member, wide and curious as I set the items on the bed and crawl in between his legs. He spreads his legs without being prompted, leaving him completely exposed to me, and the action makes my heart swell with pride. My good boy has learned so much in the past two months.

“M’gonna suck that pretty cock of yours now, and I want you to keep your hips still. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Spencer nods frantically, “Y-Yes, Miss. Please – I need your mouth. I’ll be still, I promise.”

I let out a pleased hum as I take him into my hand, dragging my fist up and down, spreading precum across the entirety of his length.

“I know you will, baby. You’re always so good for me. So eager to please.”

I lean down and begin placing kisses to the sensitive skin of his thighs, all while continuing to work my hand against him. I nip lightly at the skin above his right hip and Spencer sucks in a ragged breath when I suck a pretty purple bruise in the very same spot. It contrasts starkly with his porcelain skin, and I enjoy the way it looks so much that I continue until a plethora of love bites litter his inner thighs. When I finally sit back and admire my work, Spencer’s writhing so pitifully against the mattress that I decide to put him out of his misery.

Spencer devolves into a whimpering mess the moment I take his tip into my mouth, his head thrashing wildly against the mattress when I swirl my tongue around him. I take my time with him, not at all rushing my descent onto his cock, choosing instead to tease him with a slow, steady pace. If Spencer minded my slower than usual pace, he didn’t say so. He was too busy choking out an unrelenting string of the most wanton moans I’d ever heard as he watched himself disappear into my mouth.

I decide now is as good a time as any to up the ante and I pull my mouth away from him.

“W-Why did you stop?” Spencer stutters, chest heaving up and down.

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Are you being ungrateful, Doctor? Because if you are, I could always just leave you here like this - cock hard and leaky with no way to get off other than your own hand. That wouldn’t be nearly as fun as having me fuck that pretty little ass of yours.”

“No, please! I’m so sorry,” Spencer mewls. “I’ll be good, just please don’t leave!”

I loosely grasp Spencer’s cock in my hand and run my thumb across his slit.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. I can’t wait to hear how pretty you are when you’re begging for me to fuck you harder.”

Spencer’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth hangs open, panting hard.

“I want it so bad. Please, please, please, Miss.”

I use my free hand to reach up and push two fingers into Spencer’s mouth, “Suck. I want them real nice and wet so that I can use them to get you ready for me.”

Spencer moans around my fingers, laving his tongue around the them as he hollows his cheeks. When I retract my fingers from his mouth they’re practically dripping and I reward his effort by tightening my grip on his cock.

“Good job, baby. Are you ready for me to finger that tight little hole of yours?” I ask him as I release his cock and grab the bottle of lube. I drizzle a healthy amount onto my fingers before dragging one across his puckered hole, eliciting a high-pitched cry from Spencer.

“Yes!” Spencer gasps as he attempts to wiggle closer. “So ready for you, Miss. Use your f-fingers on me, please!”

I start by slowly pressing one in, so as not to overwhelm him, and to my endless delight, it glides in almost effortlessly.

“Already so ready for my fingers, Doctor. You sure you haven’t touched yourself here before?” I ask as I begin to work my finger in and out in slow thrusts.

“N-Never. O-Only you,” Spencer stutters out between moans. “C-Can you add another, Miss?”

I pull my finger out, only to add another and resume my efforts at a slightly faster pace. Spencer’s back arches up off the bed when my fingers brush against his prostate and he lets out a half startled, half delighted yelp.

“Oh fuck!” Spencer moans as he grinds down onto my fingers. “Again, please, Miss!”

I comply, and with every press of my fingers against the fleshy bundle of tissue, Spencer’s body jolts from the sensation.

“S’that feel good, baby? Do you like how my fingers feel?”

“Oh, God, yes! F-Feels so good. Never felt like this b-before,” Spencer sobs. “I-I’m getting close, Miss.”

“I didn’t say that you can cum, baby. I wanna save that for when I’ve got my cock buried inside you. How’s that sound?”

“Y-Yes, Iwantitsobad,” Spencer slurs, his words running together as he draws nearer and near to the end. “Want you to fuck me, Miss! Please, I’ll do anything-”

I take pity on him and withdraw my fingers, which makes Spencer keen in protest.

“Calm down, greedy boy. Just gotta get ready so I can give you what you want.”

I crawl off of the bed and step into the harness, fastening it in place and making sure that the dildo is secure before I crawl in between his legs. Spencer watches on with rapt fascination as I pour lube into my palm and work it over the silicone cock until every inch of it glistens.

“What’s your color, baby?” I ask as rub the tip of the cock over his hole.

Spencer’s breath catches in his throat and his whole-body tenses with anticipation.

“So green, Miss. So fucking green,” Spencer whimpers.

I raise a hand up to his hip and begin to rub soothing circles into the skin there.

“Gonna need you to relax for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?” Spencer bites his lip and nods his head. I watch as the tension begins to melt away, and when I see him relax back into the mattress, I bring up my hand to stroke his cock. I keep my touch light, barely applying pressure – I knew if I applied too much, Spencer wouldn’t be able to hold out longer than a few thrusts. He was already teetering on the edge as it was.

Mine and Spencer’s eyes meet and he smiles up at me, dopey and drunk from pleasure, and it’s all the permission I need. I press into him slowly, and I’m left in awe as I watch Spencer Reid completely unravel beneath me.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Spencer curses, head flying back and hitting the pillows. It never ceases to amaze me at how fucking responsive he is, and tonight is no exception. It’s like his body is a live wire, trembling beautifully as I press in further and further and further. I stop just shy of being fully sheathed inside him, trying to allow him a moment to adjust, but Spencer seems to have other plans.

“Keep going, Miss, don’t stop, please! I want all of it, please give it to me! I can take it, please let me show you!”

He looks up at me and those beautiful brown eyes are so wild, so positively feral that I can’t even entertain the idea of denying him any longer.

Spencer looks positively ruined by the time I bottom out inside him. His hair sticks to the sheen of sweat that gathers on his forehead, and his lips look positively abused from the way he’s been biting down on them. His eyelids flutter closed every few seconds, and every time he blinks them back open, I’m able to see that his pupils are so blown that his eyes look almost black.

I pull back until all that’s left inside him is the very tip of the cock, and just as he opens that bratty little mouth to beg for more, I give particularly harsh thrust of my hips until I’m fully sheathed inside him. Spencer lets out a surprised cry as I set an unforgiving pace, all the while still loosely jerking him off as I bury myself inside him again and again and again.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Spencer chants loudly, face contorted beautifully in an expression of pure ecstasy. I spare a brief thought to Spencer’s poor neighbors and make mental note to invest in a ball gag.

“S’that feel good, baby? You look so pretty taking my cock like the good boy you are. My pretty little cock slut. Such a shame nobody’s fucked you like this before,” I hum as I focus my attention on the head of his cock, thumbing lightly at where he leaks for me.

“D-Don’t want anyone else, just wanna be good for y-you. Wanna m-make you proud,” Spencer whines, tripping over his words as he struggles to form a coherent sentence. The sentiment sends a jolt of heat down to my already soaking core, but I do my best to ignore the slickness running down my thighs for the time being. Right now, my only focus is the boy chanting my name, praying for a type of salvation that only I can give him.

I smile down at him and my hand drifts lower to where I’m steadily thrusting in and out of him. Spencer’s body jolts as the pad of my thumb brushes against the sensitive skin of his hole.

“Of course, I’m proud of you. Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. It’s like you were made to take my cock,” I praise him.

My words, mixed with the way I’m working both Spencer’s cock and his tight little ass, seem to be getting the better of him, because Spencer doesn’t even try to formulate a response. He just continues to let out strangled moans that almost sound like sobs as his hands grasp at the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

It doesn’t take long until I feel the muscles in Spencer’s stomach and thighs begin to tense, and when his cock twitches in my hand I can tell Spencer won’t last much longer.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” I ask him as I grind my hips against his, and Spencer’s reply comes in the form of an incoherent, garbled moan.

“What’s the matter, baby? Have I fucked you so stupid that you can’t answer me anymore?” I taunt him. I use the leverage I have from the hand placed on his hip to propel myself deeper. “Is my poor dumb baby incapable of replying?”

Spencer makes a feeble attempt at a reply, “P-Please let me – f-fuck – cum! Oh, God, m’socloseMiss. Harder, please!”

I take a minute to bask in the way he’s completely fallen apart at my hands - relishing in the way his eyes are glossy and dark with lust, in the way that his chest is flushed a deep red, and in the way that precum beads at the tip of his cock, aching for a release. He looks beautiful like this, whining and squirming, hips grinding down in search of more, more, more. I’d never imagined in a million years that I’d be so lucky as to see the illustrious Spencer Reid fucked absolutely senseless, but here he was, waiting for my permission to throw himself off the edge and into the best kind of oblivion.

“Cum for me, pretty boy,” I say in the softest voice imaginable. “Show me how good you are.”

The tension that had been steadily building since the first press of my lips against his snaps in an instant, and copious amounts of cum spurt out from his cock, painting his chest in thick, white ropes. Spencer chants out muddled thank yous as I fuck him through his release, pushing in and out of him in shallow strokes as slowly comes back down from the high.

When his breathing slows down to a normal rate, I pull out of him, quickly freeing myself from the harness and tossing it aside to be dealt with later. I crawl up until I’m at eye level and begin pressing soft, sweet kisses to Spencer’s face.

“You did so well, Spence,” I murmur against his skin. “You’re amazing, baby. Thank you so much for trusting me to be with you like that.”

Spencer lifts a shaky hand to my hair and pulls me down into a heated kiss. I indulge him and pour every ounce of passion I have into my efforts, hoping to express my gratitude with every swipe of my lips against his. And when I pull away, my pretty boy smiles up at me, sated and full of adoration, and it’s beautiful.

“D’you think you can handle taking a shower with me?” I ask as I pull away, and Spencer gives a shy nod in response. He sits up in the bed and swings his legs until his feet hit the floor. I’m just about to stand when his hand comes down on my wrist to stop me.

“What about you? You didn’t . . .”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Tonight was all about you.”

I move off of the bed and help him to his feet, holding him steady when his legs begin to shake. “Might be a little sore for a while, but it should go away within a day or so.”

I help him to the bathroom and turn on the shower, and when it’s warm enough I rid myself of my bra and panties and motion for him to join me. I urge Spencer to step under the spray first, but his arms snake around me and pull me with him.

Spencer nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck and he lets out a deep sigh.

“You okay, bubs?” I ask him as I tangle my arms around his torso and begin to rub soothing circles into his back.

“I just feel a little… down? I-Is this a sub drop? I read a little bit about them, but I don’t k-know…” he trails off, sniffling pitifully against my neck. “I-I just know that I want to hold you. Is that o-okay?”

My heart lurches painfully in my chest as his voice wavers, and I pull back just enough that I can look into his weary eyes.

“Baby, that’s more than okay. Sub drops are a perfectly normal thing to experience, and I’ll be right here to hold you for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Spencer’s eyes fill with tears and he makes no attempt to hold them back, choosing to let them fall freely and mix in with the water pouring from the shower head.

“T-Tell me you want me,” Spencer begs, lip wobbling pitifully. “I-I just feel like I’m not good enough for you, and I know it’s all in my head, and I know how you feel about me, but I just think it would help if you just… s-said it. Please?”

I feel my heart break for the man that stood before me. The implication his words carry - that this wonderful, kind-hearted, extraordinarily gifted man could ever think so little of himself – was enough to bring tears to my own eyes. I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat and, with all the sincerity I can possibly muster, I reply.

“I want you, Spencer Reid. I don’t want anyone else – only you,” I tell him, never once breaking eye contact. “For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Spencer chokes out a weak laugh, “And if I want you forever?”

I nudge his nose with my own, and the act feels almost more intimate than everything that preceded it.

“Then forever, it is,” I murmur. I press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away and reaching for the shampoo. “Now, turn around, pretty boy. Let me pamper you.”

“Y/N!” Penelope calls out, sauntering over to me in a flash of hot pink taffeta. I’m in the middle of throwing my satchel over my shoulder when she runs up to me, excited smile on her face. “Me, you, JJ, Elle, and a bottle of tequila. You in?”

On a normal day, the answer would have been a resounding hell yes. But today? I let my eyes wander over to where Spencer lingers near the glass doors, trying to look like he isn’t listening in. Very subtle.

“I’m gonna have to pass on this one, Penelope.”

Penelope’s smile transforms into a pout.

“This is the third weekend in a row you’ve ditched us!” she whines, stomping her kitten heeled foot like a petulant child. “Either you’re avoiding us or you’ve got some secret lover we don’t know about. And if that’s the case, then we have a whole other problem, because that’s the kind of thing I expect to be told about immediately.”

The giddy smile that stretches across my face gives me away before I even have the chance to open my mouth, sending Penelope into an absolute frenzy.

“Oh my God, I cannot believe this. We’ll talk about how angry I am about being kept in the dark later because right now, I need details,” Penelope gushes. “Who is he? Where did you two meet? Is he hot?” Penelope barely gets the words out before she’s shaking her head. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. Of course, he’s hot - just look at you. Do I know him? When do I get to meet him?”

I can’t help but laugh at Penelope’s enthusiasm.

“Slow down, Pen,” I chuckle. “I didn’t tell you about it because it’s still relatively new, and it wasn’t until this past weekend that we finally decided to put a label on it.”

“A label? Does that mean this guy is your boyfriend? Oh my God, I thought this day would never come,” Penelope sighs dreamily. But the far-away look in her eye quickly fades and Penelope begins to grill me with renewed fervor. “Y/N, you have to tell me who it is. It’s like, practically a crime that I’m only just now hearing about this, so you owe me this much. And I’ll be needing his first and last name, along with a DOB so that I can run a full back ground check ASAP. Don’t even try to talk me out of it – we deal with enough freakiness during our day jobs, and I insist on making sure the freakiness ends there.”

I can feel a flush spread over my cheeks and I fiddle with the strap of my bag.

“I, uh, don’t think a background check is going to be necessary. You know this guy pretty well already.”

If Penelope had been worked up before, she was practically vibrating with excitement now.

“I know him? Oh my God, this is so huge. Is it Brendon from down in sex crimes? Or maybe James from counter-terrorism?” Penelope muses aloud, before her eyes go almost comically wide. “Holy hell, it’s Anderson, isn’t it?”

“It definitely isn’t Anderson, or any of the others, for that matter,” I laugh. “Do you want a hint?”

“What I really want is for you to just tell me, but if you insist on dragging this out then yes, I would very much like a hint!”

I cut my eyes over to where Spencer stands, and it’s impossible to miss the giddy grin on his face. So much for trying to remain subtle, Doctor Reid.

I fake like I’m looking around for anyone within earshot before motioning for Penelope to lean in. She’s quick to comply, and I do one last exaggerated sweep of the room.

“Alright then, here’s your hint,” I whisper into her ear. “He’s got an IQ of 187, and he’s a pretty kickass magician.”

I lean back and adjust the strap of my bag, sparing one last, parting glance at Penelope, whose jaw is practically on the floor.

“See you on Monday, Pen.”

“W-Wait, are you serious?” Penelope calls out after me. “Reid is your mystery man?! Y/N, get back here right now and explain yourself! Derek, did you hear that?!”

By the time I reach Spencer, Penelope’s voice fades into background noise as I focus all my attention on the way he smiles down at me. I link my hand with his and I’m vaguely aware of an increase in volume coming from Penelope’s direction, but I ignore in favor of smiling back at him.

“You ready to get out of here, boyfriend?”

Spencer squeezes my hand in his and he nods.

“Ready when you are, girlfriend.”

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earlgreydream · 4 years ago

Text

rings.

| bucky barnes x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. bucky with rings

mafia au, soft!dom

cw: sliiiiight dubcon if you squint, but not actually

“You’re running the money through here?” Steve asked Bucky, and he nodded.

“Yes. We have a few other sites we launder through, but most of the money comes through here. Police don’t come poking around a locally owned Romanian restaurant on the upper east side,” Bucky explained.

“Boss is very... careful.” Zemo explained, referring to Bucky.

They were trying to make a deal with Steve and Sam, the two American bosses of another mafia they were trying to sell their illegal weapons to. One of their bases was raided, all of their drugs and weapons seized by the DEA.

They had come to Bucky, looking to buy more weapons to arm their dealers and “soldiers”.

“And who is this exactly?” Sam eyed Zemo suspiciously.

“Zemo. He’s security, and my weapons expert,” Bucky answered.

“Do you have connections?” Steve continued, trying to ignore the Sokovian’s unsettling stare.

“Yes. The head agent of the Manhattan DEA is one of us. Half of the local precincts are in our pocket, and I own the NYPD.” Bucky’s tone was impatient, he didn’t appreciate the questioning of his authority.

Bucky was the most powerful man in New York, and also the most feared. He demanded respect, dominating every space he entered. Steve and Sam wanted to be under his protection, and be supplied by him.

The men stopped talking when they heard a noise, and the four men burst into the front of the restaurant, guns drawn.

“Did you not lock the fucking door?!” Bucky snapped at Zemo. Zemo just rolled his eyes, and they stepped out into the dining room, where you stood.

You loved the Romanian restaurant just a few streets down from your building. You frequented it, their papanasi your favorite comfort food.

You’d had a rough week, a lot of family drama, and you were craving the Romanian food. You found the door unlocked and a back light on as you were walking home late, and you’d gone inside to try to get a snack.

It was empty, but four men had come out, three of them pulling guns and pointing them at you. You’d heard voices and had begun to walk to the back hallway, where they’d been talking in an office. You’d heard “I own the NYPD,” and nothing else. You’d started to leave when the men had appeared.

The man who didn’t have a gun pointed at you was in an all-black suit, silver eyes matching silver rings on his fingers that looked like they costed more than your Manhattan rent.

You were frozen, staring down the barrels of three guns, fear robbing your lungs of air.

“Get your fucking guns out of her face!” Bucky shouted, making you jump. Zemo obeyed immediately, but Steve and Sam kept their guns pointed at you.

“She’s-”

“She’s unarmed and terrified. Put down the fucking guns!” The other two slowly lowered their weapons, and you were shaking.

Bucky looked at you, a frightened girl who clearly had just ended up at the wrong place at the wrong time. You stared back at him, your hands trembling. You didn’t understand him protecting you from the other men, but you were thankful.

“Please, I didn’t hear anything, I haven’t done anything... I just wanted some food,” you pleaded softly, looking at Bucky in hopes he’d take more pity on you.

“I believe you, doll, but we can’t let you leave,” Bucky spoke, and you bit your lip.

“I won’t do anything,” you promised.

“I know. You came for something to eat? Let’s get you some food. Zemo.” Bucky pushed the Sokovian toward the kitchen.

“Barnes, we can’t just-” Steve turned to Bucky, starting to object.

“You will respect my authority, Steve.”

You looked at him, and Bucky held his hand out for you to take. You hesitated, and his silver gaze softened.

“I’m not going to hurt you, doll,” he said quietly, and you carefully put your hand in his, the metal rings cold against your warm skin. Bucky pulled you toward him, his other hand going to rest on the small of your back as he led you to his office, sitting down with you on one of the brown leather couches. You began to smell the food Zemo was cooking, growing hungrier. Sam and Steve sat across from the two of you, and you shifted under their intense gazes.

“What’s your name?” Bucky asked you, and when you didn’t answer immediately, he introduced himself.

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but my friends call me Bucky,” he felt bad that you’d gotten caught up with them. Under another circumstance, he probably would’ve sent you away, but he couldn’t let you go in front of the two Americans, and not risking what you may have heard of their conversation.

Your mind was spinning. You’d never been in the presence of four men as beautiful as the ones in the restaurant. Bucky especially, was incredibly gorgeous. His stern, dominating personality made him far more attractive somehow, and you found yourself growing warm in your jeans.

“Your name, doll?” Bucky’s voice was soft as he called you back to attention, snapping your mind out of your wandering thoughts.

“Y/N,” you whispered, pulling at a rip in your jeans, letting your eyes fall down to your lap.

“That’s a pretty name,” Bucky said, repeating it, and god it sounded so much better falling from his lips.

“Here,” Zemo returned, setting down a plate for you. A small gasp left you as Bucky hauled you closer to him on the couch. You realized it was so that Zemo could sit down on your other side. You picked up the plate, eating quietly, trying to ignore the stares from the men across from you.

Zemo and Bucky didn’t stare, and Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your leg. They began to speak in Romanian, and you didn’t understand, so you kept eating. You nearly choked when Bucky squeezed your thigh a bit, his rings glinting from the movement.

You wondered how the cool metal would feel against your heat.

“Y/N? I asked if you were alright?”

“Hm? Yes,” you blushed furiously, and Bucky had an amused smirk on your face, practically reading your mind, or at least recognizing filthy thoughts as you stared at his large hands.

“Her cheeks look a little rosy,” Zemo hummed, his fingers brushing lightly over your cheekbone. Your chest rose and fell heavily, and Steve leaned forward and took the now-empty plate from your lap.

“Are you nervous?” Bucky teased, his deep voice soaking into you, surrounding you and blocking out everything else.

“No, sir,” you shook your head, swallowing hard.

“Sir? So sweet,” Zemo chuckled darkly, and you felt his fingertips ghost down your spine.

“I am sweet,” you said, looking up at Bucky, and he tilted his head to the side a bit, running his hand up and down your thigh. You squeezed your legs together without meaning to, just needing to alleviate some of the sexual frustration that was building inside of you.

You were overwhelmed by the two men speaking softly and sensually to you, their hands on you, the dominating personalities, and the tension in the room. You were focused on Bucky, and he helped you onto his lap. You let him move you to straddle his hips, your back to the other men.

“Want to show me how sweet you can be, doll?” He asked, his hands resting on your ribcage, and you could feel him through your thin top. You nodded shyly, and he kissed you to get you to relax a bit.

“My friends here are going to watch, okay?” Bucky’s voice was dangerously soft, and you nodded. He kissed your cheekbone lightly before slipping your top over your head, your breasts barely covered by thin, see-through lace.

You blushed, looking to the side and seeing Zemo shift at the sight of your chest.

“He’s admiring you,” Bucky hummed softly into your collarbone, pressing a kiss to the skin there, just above the curve of the lace on your breast. His hands slipped down into the back pockets of your jeans, squeezing you and pulling a breathy noise from you. You couldn’t see Sam or Steve, but you felt their gazes on your back, watching the way Bucky balanced softness and dominance with you.

“I want to make you feel good, I want to hear your little moans of pleasure,” Bucky spoke quietly, mouthing gentle kisses along your jaw.

“Please,” now, instead of begging to leave, you were begging for him, the mafia don you were on top of.

“Let’s let these poor boys behind you see. I want them to know who’s in charge here,” Bucky said, and you nodded in consent. You felt like you could collapse as he got you to stand up off of his lap. You looked down at his rings as he smoothed his hands up your belly to tease the raised peaks under your bralette.

“So pretty, doll,” Bucky praised you, kissing just above your navel. His eyes gazed up at you, and your trembling fingers threaded through his dark hair as you got lost in the stormy grey.

Bucky wanted to tear you apart, but he took it slow and was gentle for you, the sweet girl under his protection.

He kissed the space between your hips as he undid the button on your jeans, sliding them down your legs. He reached a hand up for you to take as you stepped out of them, holding you steady. He smiled at the lace bottoms that matched your top, nearly see-through.

You heard a soft throaty noise from behind you, and you looked to see Sam and Steve with their hands down their trousers, stroking themselves as they watched Bucky undress you. Zemo was doing the same, but less shy than the other two, his suit pants down around his knees, giving you full view of his cock.

You blushed shyly, feeling exposed but somehow safe with Bucky, who was squeezing your ass, leaving imprints of his rings against your skin.

“Look, they’re all touching themselves because of you, how beautiful and sweet you are,” Bucky turned you around so your back was to him, making you watch Steve and Sam. Your skimpy underwear showed how wet you were, and you were unable to hide how turned on you were any more.

Bucky’s hands were on your hips as he kissed down your spine, shivers shooting through your body. He slid the lace down your legs, leaving it discarded on the floor with your jeans, but not bothering to get you fully naked.

A soft squeal escaped as you were suddenly dragged backwards, falling onto Bucky’s lap, your back pressed against his suit-clad chest.

“You can rest on me, doll,” he coaxed you to relax, his hands smoothing down your body.

Steve and Sam were overwhelmed by the sight in front of them, and Bucky knew it. He was doing this to assert his dominance, and to establish a level of trust between them. They watched him part your legs, keeping them open with his knees. Zemo was much more unphased than the other two, enjoying the show as one of Bucky’s loyal friends.

Bucky could hear your soft, unsteady breaths, and he stilled when your smaller hand grasped his.

“Leave them on, please,” you begged, tilting your head back to look him in the eyes before he could remove his rings.

“Of course, sweet girl.” Bucky planted a gentle kiss to your lips, deepening it to hear your soft moans.

“Oh my god, fuck,” one of the men moaned as they came, seeing your sex glisten as Bucky licked into your mouth sensually.

Bucky gently trailed his fingers through your folds, feeling how wet you were. He began to stroke your clit softly, listening to you whine.

He eased one of his large fingers into your tight entrance. You shuddered, your breath stuttering as you felt the cold metal against your hot pussy, your muscles squeezing around his finger.

“Does that feel good?” Zemo asked you as Bucky pushed two fingers inside of you, still teasing your clit to keep you relaxed.

“Answer him, doll,” Bucky commanded you sternly.

“Yes, sir,” you turned your head to look at Zemo, watching his hips fuck up into his hand.

“No, you keep touching yourselves. You’re not done until I’m done.” Bucky’s order was directed at Steve and Sam, who’s noises rose in pitch at the forced overstimulation. They were too afraid to disobey Bucky, knowing the consequences would be dire. Zemo knew this ahead of time, and was taking it much slower, still enjoying himself as he watched you writhe on Bucky’s lap.

Bucky kissed along your shoulder and neck, three fingers pumping slowly in and out of you. He expertly drew whines and moans of pleasure from you, and your legs were beginning to shake from the intensity.

The cold metal against your heat was driving you mad, making your eyes roll back in ecstasy. Your back arched off of Bucky’s chest, and he wrapped an arm around you to hold you against him. He still managed to stay calm enough to continue being gentle with you, leading you quickly toward a powerful orgasm.

“You must ask him before you let go, sweetheart,” Zemo informed you, and your broken whimper filled Bucky’s ears. He watched the other three men writhing in their own mind-blowing pleasure, all under the instruction of him.

“Please, Bucky, I need-” you cut yourself off with a strangled squeal as he curved his fingers forward inside of you.

“Let go, I’ve got you,” He said, kissing your cheek as he murmured the soft words. Your screams of white-hot pleasure filled the room, shaking and falling apart on his lap. A choked sob left your chest as he pulled out of you, his digits soaked in your come. He’d waited until you had fell down from your high, becoming relaxed in his arms.

He was whispering gentle praises in your ear as he slipped his fingers into your mouth to clean them off. You hollowed your cheeks, obediently cleaning him up and feeling the metal rings pressed against your lips. You were soothed by sucking off his fingers and the praises, melting into the mafia lord.

“I think I want to keep you.”

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isk4649 · 2 years ago

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2022/10/12 WIP Wednesday

Happy Wednesday!

Thanks for tagging, @kittynomsdeplume and @a11sha11fade!

I’ve been obsessing over my modern AU finale fic, so today will also feature an excerpt from that. I am really excited to post it eventually.

In my modern AU, Cullen and Blackwall served in the U.S. Navy together. Cullen met Tharin, who then introduced Josephine to Blackwall. Now, they are all living in Seoul for Tharin’s and Josephine’s careers. And Cullen is in a bad mood - definitely related to the reason why he asked Tharin for a divorce two WIP Wednesday posts ago.

It’s on the longer side, but I think it’s worth it just for the friends’ interaction.

From Jamwon Station, Josephine and Thom’s apartment was five minutes on foot.

Gangnam was drafty. The gale coming from the river was relentless, emitting a shrill noise as it bypassed high-rises and swept over the streets. People in masks and padded jackets rushed by, their bodies scrunched and their heads looking down. Only the thin white breaths rising like smoke let Cullen know they were living beings. Before venturing out from the sheltered entrance of the subway station, Cullen zipped up his own padded jacket and exhaled harshly.

In no time, Cullen’s eyes teared up and cheeks turned numb, forcing him to cup his own masked face with his gloved hands. He was nonetheless grateful for the cold. Fretting about the cold helped him push away the predicament he faced. The more he thought of it, the more insurmountable it seemed to get, and so, being distracted enough to forget for a few minutes was a blessing.

He exited a narrow street and stood in front of a thoroughfare. Cars zoomed past him, worsening the gale. The complex where Josephine and Thom lived stood tall across the thoroughfare, looking intimidating. A veritable fortress of affluence and privilege.

It was higher than other apartments in the area, and the design was different too. Refined, tony, and minimalist, the upscale apartment in the heart of Gangnam was a testament to the Montilyets’ wealth.

Well, it had to be Josephine. Thom was a country boy from Montana turned a sailor turned a househusband. Cullen could not imagine he was the one with the money.

When Cullen rang the doorbell to the unit on the thirtieth floor, a little boy with a mop of black curly hair peeped through the door. It was Guillem.

“Hiiiii!” The boy immediately hugged Cullen, his head bobbing just below Cullen’s navel.

“Hi, Guim.” Cullen chuckled and bent down to dispense a firm hug to the boy.

Thom followed, looking domestic with a worn kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, his shaggy hair pulled into a bun, and his beard well-groomed. He asked in a voice half an octave higher than his usual, “Have you brought anything? A cake, maybe?”

Cullen knew Thom was simply being jocund, yet he could not muster any joviality. In fact, he spoke harsher than he intended to, “No. You explicitly told me not to bring anything.”

Josephine, who managed to look stylish even in a knitted sienna sweater and fitted sweatpants, pushed past Thom and leaned against the front door. With one corner of her lips raised, she droned, “He was being polite obviously. You make a terrible Korean, not bringing any gift…”

Cullen could not help but be sullen. “Good thing I’m not, then.”

Thom and Josephine looked at each other. When he turned back, Thom had a divot on his brow, worry transparent. “Did something happen?”

Cullen merely looked down at Guillem as the boy wrapped himself around his leg and looked up. The boy’s face broke out in the sunniest smile, and Cullen felt his heart break a little.

Ending the silence, Thom reached and lifted Guillem into his arms. He bounced his son, making him giggle. After placing a quick peck on the boy’s cheek, Thom declared, “Right, let’s go for a walk. The river park sound alright?”

With his gaze still glued to Guillem’s beaming face, Cullen mumbled crossly, “Sure.”

Thanks for reading! I would like to tag @jonogueira, @tessa1972, @kemvee, @raflesia65, @noire-pandora, and anyone else who would like to participate!

#WIP Wednesday #Cullen Rutherford #Tharin Trevelyan #fanfic #modern au #where the waves crest #blackwall dai #Josephine Montilyet

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theweirdymcweirderson · 4 years ago

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Pretty - James B. Barnes & Steve Rogers

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes, Steve Rogers

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader×Steve Rogers

Word count: 2110 (these are getting longer and longer, sorry)

Summary: Sexy times with the Super Soldiers.

Warnings: 18+, Pet names, Daddy!Bucky, Captain!Steve (is this a thing?) explicit words, smut, teasing, Bucky Barnes’ fucking arm, chocking I guess, Dom!Bucky, Dom!Steve, so much dirty talk :), fingering, hints to unprotected intercourse, daddy kink (beware: this is my first time writing it), captain kink, sub!reader, masturbation, threesome. Let me know if you find more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is, once again, I don’t know :).

The gentle light from the candle flickers on the walls, creating soft shadows in the otherwise dark room. You can feel the silky fabric of the robe you’re wearing tickling your skin, caressing it with every twitch of your muscles. Your nerve endings are on fire, crackling on each movement, each lungful of air; your mouth feels dry and you swallow again for the 5th time in the last couple of seconds.

“Look at that. So fucking wet, darling.”

Teeth sinking in your bottom lip, you nod to Steve even though his words are not meant as a question; eyes begging him for something, anything. The way he’s looking at you, the sound of his voice - almost as wrecked as you feel - the words he normally chastises you for falling from his bitten lips, every single thing has more slick gathering between your thighs.

“You like this, don’t ya? Being watched as you fuck yourself?”

Bucky’s voice is darker, smugness dripping from the words because he already knows, but he loves the way you get flustered; the way you look away from his eyes in embarrassment.

His teasing elicits twin groans from you and the blonde sitting next to him. They’re both at the foot of the bed, shoulder to shoulder as they watch with rapt attention how your fingers press inside of your pussy.

Your legs are spread open, knees bent as you lean back on the pillows Bucky has lovingly set against the headboard. They love your eyes on them, get off on having you watch the way you affect them as you pleasure yourself. Steve’s hand moves to the prominent tent in his slacks, palms it for just a second as another guttural groan escapes his mouth at the wet sound of your lips accommodating your fingers.

“She looks good, doesn’t she, Stevie? Pretty pussy peeking through the lace?”

Steve brings his eyes to yours, watches as you plead with him for more. You can tell that if it was up to him alone, he’d already be balls deep inside you, but Bucky enjoys the teasing.

“Fuck yeah, she does. You know she does.”

His sky-blue eyes darken a little more as he turns to catch his best friend’s gaze. They stare at one another for a moment, and then Steve’s eyes glance to Bucky’s lips as they curve up in that grin that never fails to bring either of you to your knees.

A frustrated whine slips out of you when Bucky’s metal hand wraps around Steve’s throat. You feel the green-eyed monster rear up its head at the sight of the black contrasting so prettily against Steve’s flushed skin.

“Wanna fuck her, Stevie?”

“Taste her. She’s so wet, smells so fucking sweet.”

Yes, please. Another whimper, your hips buck up at the suggestions; either of them would be more than welcome since your fingers are not cutting it anymore. You feel Steve’s fingers caressing up your foot, but you know better than to move. You keep still, breath stuck in your lungs as his fingers wrap around your ankle. Bucky mirrors his actions and they jerk your legs apart a little more. You yelp in surprise at the sudden movement.

“Oh, she smells delicious, a’ight. And your face does look real fucking pretty framed by her legs.”

Steve’s hand goes back to palming his dick and Bucky chuckles allowing his eyes to follow the gesture. You would protest at the loss of contact if your own eyes weren’t greedily soaking up the erotic scene before them.

Bucky tsks, metal hand gliding up his friend’s neck to land on his cheek; fingers softly sinking into Steve’s stubbly skin while his thumb caresses his bottom lip.

“You want it bad, don’t ya?”

Steve barely nods, doesn't even need to because Bucky can read it all on his face. His tongue pokes out of his parted lips, tip grazing Bucky's thumb and it's the brunette's turn to bite back a groan.

“See whatcha did, dollface? Got Cap here all wound up for you.”

Bucky's silvery gaze finds yours, and you swallow again at the dryness in your mouth as all moisture keeps gathering south. He smiles at you, all soft and warm, and the complete opposite of his words and the dark promises in his eyes.

“What do you suggest we do about that, hum?”

Your eyes go back to Steve's form, wander over his body, from his chiselled face down to where his hand is still squeezing his cock. You wish you could undress them with your thoughts alone.

Before you can answer, Steve interrupts you.

“Keep fucking yourself, darling.”

Bucky kinks an eyebrow disapprovingly and you realise that sometime, as you lost yourself watching them interact, you’d stopped moving your fingers. Not that anyone can blame you; your boys are just too fucking pretty.

You resume your teasing, because that is all you can really do with your underwear still on, but Steve likes it. He likes to see your skin adorned by the lace as you touch yourself; that's the reason behind it overflowing your underwear drawer.

Eyes apologetic, you push and pull, turning your attention back to Bucky.

“Whatever you want, just...do something.”

Steve squeezes himself a little harder at your breathy voice, and switches hands so that he can bring his left one back on your leg. This time it rests a little higher, grasping at your calf as he eyes your body hungrily.

“Whatever we want? Oh, dollface, you sure you can take it all? Take us both?”

You nod, fingers quickening slightly when your mind starts conjuring up images of what Bucky's words might entail.

“Yeah? Gon let us have our way with ya?”

Bucky's voice is even deeper than before, getting huskier by the second and Steve moans at his words, unbuttoning his pants. Fucking finally.

“Yeah. Yes, Bucky, please.”

They move at the same time, shifting closer to your body and you can finally feel the heat radiating off of them. Steve's hand is now on your thigh, fingers moving along the inner muscle until it quivers with anticipation. He grins at you, all boyish and carefree with a barely concealed hint of mischief.

The black, hard metal of Bucky's hand makes contact with your tummy, forefinger tracing your navel as you marvel at the light reflecting off the gold decorating the arm. Your quick intake of breath pleases him and he leans closer until he’s face to face with your heating cheeks.

“What d’ya need, dollface, huh?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let the hand that was clenching the sheets move to find his, fingers wrapping around his wrist to urge him to speed up in his ascent towards your breasts.

“I want you to fuck me. Need it so bad, please.”

“Always so fucking polite, darling. So fucking pretty for us.”

Steve tugs on your wrist and your fingers easily slip from inside you; the panties’ elastic gently slapping back into place. Both yours and Bucky’s eyes are glued to the blonde as he brings your fingers to his mouth and sucks them in, eyes closing in delight when your juices reach his tastebuds.

Heavy breaths mingle in the otherwise silent room until he releases your fingers with a lewd pop, bringing your hand to his chest before letting go of your wrist. He moves then, settles between your parted thighs and that seems to be Bucky’s cue to focus his attention back on you.

“Want Cap’s cock, dollface? Want him to fuck you?”

‘Cap’, you know what that means and you moan your answer, a broken ‘yeah’ that has Steve hurriedly pushing his zipper down and rising to his knees to shove the pants out of the way. Humour is coating the brunette’s voice when he wraps his hand around your throat and a desperate whine slips past your glistening, bite-swollen lips.

“And what about me, huh?”

“Want you too; want both, please.”

Unable to stop yourself, you glance at Steve as he’s unbuttoning his shirt, gaping at the expanse of muscle being revealed and hoping for him to lose the boxers a little bit quicker. He smiles when he catches your eyes, discarding the material aside and grabbing his cock again.

“Gon let Daddy fuck that pretty, little mouth of yours, darling?”

Oh. Stunned into silence, you keep your eyes glued to him until Bucky’s fingers tighten around your neck, effectively diverting your attention; claiming it back as his own.

“Answer him, dollface, gonna let me fuck your mouth?”

“Yes, Captain. Wanna feel Daddy down my throat.”

Both men moan at your words, Steve shifting until his hips are bracketed by your thighs; his cock now free and resting on your panty-clad pussy. He rocks forwards once, creating such delicious friction on your clit that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Look at you, doll. You just wanna be a good girl for us, don't ya?”

“Uh huh. I'mma be a good girl, Daddy. I'll be your best girl.”

Steve ruts against you again, hands hot on your thighs, using the hold for leverage and pulling your body down as he surges up. Your thoughts scatter all over the place; mouth falling open on panted nonsense and pleas.

“Oh, we know you will. Now c'mon, darling, give me one before I fill this pretty pussy up.”

Groaning your understanding, you clench the sheets in one hand, bringing the other to Bucky's forearm for something sturdier to hold onto as his best friend keeps rocking you back and forth.

“You want that, doll? Want Cap to come inside that tight, little pussy of yours?”

“Oh God, yes! Want it so bad. Fuck, Captain, don't stop, please.”

He quickens his pace, his cock catching in your panties until Bucky reaches over and pulls them to the side, baring your pussy to his friend before bringing his hand back to your throat.

“You hear that, Stevie? Think we spoiled her too much.”

Steve grunts something that you can't quite make out, but Bucky seems to understand him just fine if his chuckle is any indication.

“Bet you want Daddy to fuck your pussy, too. Don’t you, doll? Cause one’s not enough for you anymore, is it?”

You hear rustling and open your eyes to see Bucky stroking himself through his jeans. Without waiting for his say so, you reach over and unsteadily unbutton and unzip them for him. He pulls his cock out and you take over again, thumb collecting the warm precome before you start stroking him as best as you can.

Steve leans over then, his skin hot as it barely grazes your rising chest on each intake of breath. They’re shoulder to shoulder again, Steve’s nuzzling your neck on the right, while Bucky is still upright, leaving room for you to work on his cock.

“Is that true, darling? You gon let Daddy fuck this pussy when I’m done with it? Let him use my come as lube? Is that what you want?”

A fresh wave of slick coats Steve’s cock after he husks the filthy words in your ear; his hand joining Bucky’s around your throat so that they’re both framing your neck.

You groan something intelligible because you’re too far gone; hips thrusting up knowing that you need just one more push and you’ll tumble over the edge. Bucky groans, his fingers twitch against your heated skin before he turns to face Steve.

“Fuck. That’s so fucking nasty, Stevie.”

“Shut up, you love it and, from the way she just flooded by dick, she does too.”

“I do. I do, please Captain. Would be so hot, to have you and Daddy filling me up, fucking my pussy ‘til I’m full and leaking on the sheets.”

You bring your unoccupied hand to the back of Steve’s head, keeping him close to you as his hips rut faster against your swollen clit. Bucky’s free hand wraps over yours and helps guide it as your body begins to turn to mush; all muscles slackening with the fast approach of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, I’m com-”

The words die on a silent scream when you convulse underneath Steve, feeling his left hand clutching your thigh while his body seizes up and a long, drawn out groan leaves his parted lips. Bucky fucks up one last time into your fists, and comes with a soft, almost inaudible moan that sears itself in your brain.

A beat passes, you’ve barely sucked in enough oxygen, before you feel the grips at your neck tightening again.

“Hands and knees, darling, c’mon.”

More notes, cause why the heck not?: Please consider leaving me some feedback? Maybe? You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it. Thank you for reading in any case :)

As requested: Pretty 2

Find more here :)

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2goth2moth · 3 years ago

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Ink and Salt (GN!Squidperson x M!Human, NSFW)

Once again, big thanks to @xo-philia for beta-reading this :-)

Word count: 3257

Includes: Non-human genitalia of the tentacle variety, d/s undertones, praise kink, self-lubrication

Nothing Tilu ever did was subtle. No one could ever really tell whether it was natural or an extremely dedicated choice, but they certainly let it into every part of their life. The way they flirted was no different.

“Wanna make out?”

Only mildly surprised, Blair glanced at them over the top of his book. They were stretched out on their stomach across the floor in front of him, propping themself up on their elbows. “I thought you wanted to take a nap.”

“Yeahhh, I did,” they said with a luxuriant stretch. “But I got distracted by the cute boy sitting in front of me. And now I want to kiss him.”

Blair felt his face heat up. No matter how long he knew Tilu, their bluntness never failed to fluster him. He put a bookmark in between the pages of his novel before setting it on the desk he was sitting at. “Really?”

Tilu laughed, pushing themself back until they were sitting up, cross-legged. “You have to stop asking me that every time I want you. I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t want to kiss you. Do you want to?”

Blair nodded feebly, getting off his chair and sitting on the floor in front of them. Sitting on the same level made their already significant height difference even more pronounced. Even standing over a foot taller and with Tilu’s head barely reaching his chin where they sat, he still felt like they were towering over him. The markings that ran, jagged and electric, over their skin made them seem larger than life, an unintentional intimidation that was made more difficult for him to bear because of how much he adored them.

A hard fingernail made contact with his forehead. “You’re freaking out, I can tell.” Tilu brought their hand down to cradle Blair’s face, stroking his jaw affectionately. “Don’t overthink this. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.”

“No!” Blair broke in, grabbing Tilu’s hands in his. ”I want to! I just…” He took a deep break to steady himself. “You’re so beautiful. I want to be good for you.”

A cool blue flush dusted Tilu’s face and ears. It rose prettily on their snow-white skin, contrasting with the rich wine-red of their markings. “You’re so fucking cute. Just get over here and kiss me already.”

He obeyed. Tilu’s hands found their way to his face again as their lips met. Their mouth was cool against Blair’s, and he shivered as the tip of their tongue traced the seam of his lips. Small, round fingertips caressed the delicate skin behind his ears as he opened his mouth to Tilu. Their tongue was long, and dextrous like the rest of them. It filled Blair’s mouth, flicking around his throat and palate, tracing over his teeth. He sucked on it gently, eyes fluttering at the feeling. His hands came to rest on their waist, stroking up and down their sides, dipping fingers up under the crop top they were wearing. Both of them were moaning softly and Blair could feel spit dripping from the edge of his mouth.

Tilu pulled away from him, leaving him slack-jawed and panting. They had translucent black saliva smeared around their lips. He was unbelievably pleased at the thought of himself matching. “I want to keep going.”

The question was unsaid but fully understood. “Yes please.” He whispered.

Tilu moved back in to kiss him again. It was sloppy, and their small, sharp teeth dug into his lips as they moved together. They shoved their hands up underneath his shirt, scratching over his ribcage and chest, pausing to lightly play with his nipples. He moaned again, loudly, and pulled back enough to let Tilu take off his shirt. His own hands found their torso, and began tracing over their markings. Dark red, spidery, scratchy things, they burst at the centre of their belly, curled over their delicate collarbones, framed pitch black eyes. He let one hand dip low enough to trace over the markings that rose above the waistband of their shorts. Even though he couldn’t see the rest, he knew that they marked the centre of their scalp and ran down their spine, and his mouth watered.

Clearly getting impatient, Tilu pushed him roughly. “Lie back.” They quickly stripped off their shirt, revealing an expanse of quartz-like skin. They ran their hands over their chest and abdomen, uninterrupted by nipples or a navel. “I want to ride your face and your cock.” Their shorts were next, a thin rivulet of black liquid dripping from a small slit in their pelvis down the inside of one thigh. “Take your pants off too, I’ll stain them.”

Blair rushed to obey, kicking his pants off his legs before settling on his back. His cock was half-hard already, lying flushed and sweet against the bottom of his stomach. Tilu shuffled over to straddle his chest first. They grasped his chin firmly, turning his head from side-to-side slightly, as if appraising a piece of art. A small thumb was shoved between his willing teeth. Blair sucked on it softly and thought that he would die a happy man if this was the last thing he ever saw.

“Good boy,” they cooed down at him, that pretty blue blush spreading to their shoulders and chest. “Are you ready?”

He nodded eagerly. Tilu pulled their thumb from his mouth with a quiet pop, the digit still attached to Blair’s mouth with a string of spit, and repositioned themself over his face. More black fluid was leaking out of them, slicking their public bone, running into the creases of their thighs. It smeared itself into the tacky mess of saliva already covering his face as they lowered their hips over his mouth. Blair flicked his tongue out to lap some of it up, the taste strong and salty. He continued running his tongue over their skin, doing his best to clean all the dark fluid up, not yet teasing their sheath. Tilu rocked their hips against his face in small, insistent circles. His adoring touch redoubled, brushing soft kisses and sucking small blue bruises anywhere his lips could find purchase. Still, as much as he wanted to, he didn’t start on their sheath. A tight grip in his hair broke Blair’s concentration and he pulled back, gasping, as far as he could.

Glassy black eyes stared down at him over the smooth milky stretch of their body. “Come on, baby. Don’t you want me to ride you?” Tilu smirked playfully at him, leaning back to play with the head of his cock. Blair let out a strangled moan, simultaneously nodding his head and trying to buck his hips into their hand. “You do, don’t you?” It was punctuated by a single rough grind down on his face. “Well, you have to get me ready first.”

With a nod and a whimper, Blair dove back in, now focusing all his energy on their sheath. Tonguing at the tender skin at the opening, he felt more inky liquid spill into his mouth, staining his lips and leaking out of the corners. He could feel Tilu getting more turned on in the way they rode his race more aggressively and sweet sounds of pleasure rose up from their throat. As he kept working them over, the tip of a cool, slick appendage emerged to probe his mouth. Blair opened his lips to let it in. It roamed his mouth, caressing the inside of his cheeks, wrapping around his tongue. He let it slip into his throat, tongue free to continue working at Tilu’s soft skin. More tentacles began slipping out of their sheath as he gently worked it open with his mouth.

“That’s right, baby,” Tilu murmured. They began running their whole hand up and down his hard length. “You’re such a good boy for me, aren’t you?” Their voice had gone soft and breathy in that lovely way it always did when they felt good. Blair could feel himself flush under their sweet words and touches, and he hummed around the tentacles slowly filling his mouth. There was no doubt that he looked like a complete mess: cock stiff and leaking on his belly, eyes full of tears, face and neck smeared in black slick and spit.

The way Tilu’s tentacles looked now was clear evidence of their pleasure. Teased out from their slit by Blair’s hot tongue, they bloomed like an anemone, gently waving about and stroking his face. His eyes rolled back in his head as more of them breached his mouth, stretching his jaw almost painfully, slowly fucking his throat. Moans escaped his mouth as he suckled on the salty-slick tendrils. A foggy haze was beginning to fill his head, senses overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of what he was feeling. The rich, briny scent of the black liquid, the pressure of tentacles filling his mouth, the rocking of their hips onto his face, the feather-light strokes on his dick. Tilu still pinned him to the floor with that bottomless gaze, although it now fluttered with every lap of his tongue.

Small fingers closed around the base of Blair’s cock with shocking force. His whole body tensed up and he moaned loudly, though the sound was muffled by the writhing mass of tentacles in his mouth. Tilu backed up from his face to straddle his stomach. They cradled his face lovingly, spreading the thick black slick around his mouth. Emotional tears leaked from his eyes and they wiped them away with a gentle hand. “Look at you. You’re so lovely, you know?” The way they continued touching, as if he were something to be treasured, nearly reduced him into a puddle. “I want to ride your cock now. Let’s see how much lovelier I can make you, hmm?”

“Oh my god, yes please,” Blair begged, squirming helplessly beneath Tilu. His desperation was met with a pleased smile that was filled to bursting with affection and needle-sharp teeth. They leaned down to kiss him sloppily. One hand worked over his dick in slow, teasing strokes as that long tongue licked deep inside his mouth again.

“I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard,” Tilu purred against Blair’s mouth with one last kiss. They positioned their sheath, now open and surrounded by tendrils, over his steadily leaking cock. The tentacles curled sweetly around his hard length, like tongues and fingers in one, running along his shaft and just barely breaching the slit at the head. Sharp bolts of pleasure shot through his body, burning through his ribcage and making his toes and spine curl. A high-pitched whine tore from his throat. Tilu planted their hands on his chest, nails digging into the soft flesh above his nipples, and braced themself to lower down onto his cock.

Even heavily slicked and with their tentacles fully extended, the size difference between Blair and Tilu made this a delicate process. Pointed teeth stuck out over the ridge of their lip as they bit down hard enough to draw icy-blue blood, face a cool-flushed mask of concentration. The head of Blair’s cock pressed hotly into their sheath, the stretch just bordering on painful. It took all of Blair’s self-control to stay still under their body, effort betrayed only by breathy gasps and a lightly jumping muscle in his abdomen. The slick pressure that engulfed him felt unbelievably good. Easing down a little bit more sent Tilu’s head arching back violently with the beginnings of a strangled cry.

“Fuck, you’re so good like this,” they said through clenched teeth. “So patient. Just a little longer, okay?”

Blair nodded, moving his hands to rub reassuring circles into their calves. Tilu’s head being thrown back gave him an excellent view of the pearly skin of his torso. The starburst of dark red on their stomach dipped and rolled with their heaving breaths as they lowered themself the rest of the way down his shaft.

When his cock was fully seated inside of them, Tilu exhaled shakily, loosening their grip on Blair’s chest. Small red crescent-moons mark the swell of his chest where their hands had been gripping for dear life. They apologetically soothed the marks with their cool fingertips, rubbing the divots flat before ghosting their hands over his nipples. Teasing the nubs up to hard pebbles with feather-light touches, they worked over his tender flesh before giving an experimental roll of their hips. The movement dragged Blair’s cockhead against the slick walls of TIlu’s sheath. A bolt of pleasure shot through Blair’s body, drawing a long, low groan out of him. Another roll splintered the sound in his throat and drew the fluttering muscles in his belly taut. The look of stubborn concentration melted off of Tilu’s face, being replaced by one of confidence and pleasure. Blue flush now traced down their throat, chest and shoulders, as well as staining their face and ears.

Tilu stared down at him with a cocky smile. They pinched at his pebbled nipples, hard, and ground down onto his dick again. Their tentacles started winding around the shaft of his dick in earnest now, squeezing around the slickened skin instead of just teasing it. Leaning forward enough to place their lips against his ear, they whispered, “I want to make you cum so hard that you forget your own name.” Blair keened loudly, arching into them, nails digging into the meat of their calves. A single tendril snaked down to cup his balls. “Get fucking ready, baby.”

They rose up on their knees, his cock sliding out of them until the tip was the only thing stretching them open, before slamming back down. The feeling set both of them moaning loudly and Tilu began fucking themself on Blair’s cock properly. Their legs spread over his hips gave him a mouthwatering view of the inky black spread over them and the azure hickies that he left on their tender inner thighs while he ate them out. “You’re- AH- so beautiful!” The cool walls of their sheath were squeezing him tightly, the rest of his shaft and balls wrapped in slippery tentacles, nipples still being roughly worked over in skillful hands. His moans were quickly turning into cries in the face of such extreme pleasure.

A particularly hard grind sent Tilu’s black-glass eyes rolling back, the surfaces wet with tears. They moaned wantonly, long tongue lolling out of the corner of their mouth. “God, I love your cock so much!”

Hands wrapped around Blair’s wrists where they were still gripping into Tilu’s calves, wrenching them upwards so that he could hold onto their hips. He grabbed into the soft flesh, holding on as if they were a rock in a stormy sea. He could feel the muscles under their skin flex with every motion. Sparks were shooting through his blood, curling his toes and drawing desperate sounds from his mouth. “Oh shit! Slow down. Ple-ease! I’m about to cum!”

“Cum inside me, baby.”

Blair’s entire body was tensed up, but Tilu didn’t let up. They started bouncing even harder, even faster, walls squeezing around him. Leaning down to his chest, they wrapped their lips around his left nipple, keeping their hand teasing his right. Sharp, needle-like teeth bit around the sensitive bud, careful not to break skin, the pain soothed by flicks of their slick tongue. Translucent spit leaked out around their mouth, creating a mess across his chest. Their hips began stuttering on him but they refused to let up. Riding his cock with even more intensity, they bit down on his swollen nipple at the same time as a tentacle wrapped tight around his balls.

“Ah, I’m gonna...AHH!” The pleasure coming at Blair from every direction was too much and it tipped him over the edge. His hips stuttered deeper into Tilu’s sheath once, twice, before he came impossibly hard, near-screaming out in pleasure.

Tilu continued bouncing on his length, even as he spasmed with overstimulation. Blair could feel them getting ready to climax as their tentacles started writhing wildly and their chest began heaving even harder. Sweet, high moans were spilling rapidly from their lips, mixed in with curses and little words of praise.

“Fuck, just look at you. So gorgeous.” They dragged the nail of their pointer finger through the tacky mess of slick and spit on his face. “You look so damn good, even all filthy like this. I’ve never met someone as pretty as you.” Tilu always got sappy when they were about to cum. Sinking all the way down onto his softening cock, the tentacles splayed out like the petals of a chrysanthemum and the walls of their sheath constricted even tighter around him. Their back arched dramatically, and they came with a high-pitched whine. “FUCK!”

Blair rubbed his thumbs into the meat of their hips, feeling pulsing aftershocks go through them, the overstimulation making him flinch. They leaned down against his chest and kissed him deeply.

“Mmm, that was good,” Tilu murmured against his lips, smiling needle-toothed and affectionate. Rising up on their knees, both they and Blair groaned quietly as they pulled off of him. He looked filthy. Saliva and slick were drying in dark smears on his face, chest, and crotch, and he was still sweaty and panting. His eyes were foggy and happy as he sat up.

TIlu were barely in better shape. Thick, jet-black liquid, the remains of their orgasm, leaked out of their sheath, marbling grey with Blair’s semen. The mess covered the hickies on their legs, and almost their entire body was flushed, the cool colour lovely against their red markings. Their thigh muscles quivered from the stress of holding themself up for so long, and when they moved to sit beside him, he could see their knees were turning blue as well. Even so, their eyes were soft and warm, and they looked thoroughly content.

His heart still squeezed with regret. “Tilu, your knees,” Blair said, reaching out to catch one of their hands and bring it to his lips. He kissed their knuckles, then their fingertips, then their palm with a kind of apologetic reverence, settling the curve of his jaw against the inside of their wrist. “I’m sorry, I should have thought to put something down for you to kneel on.”

“Shhhh,” they chided, rubbing lightly behind his ear. “Don’t be silly. I could have put something down too, if I’d wanted to. Don’t be so hard on yourself, you were wonderful.”

Blair felt his face heat up again at their soft words. He leaned against their cool wrist, humming into the delicate skin there. “Okay,” he whispered. “You were wonderful too. You look very pretty right now. Like this”

Tilu smirked at him. “‘Like this’? Bruised and blushing and dripping cum, with all of my tentacles out?”

“No!” Blair blurted out. “I mean...yes, but I meant...satisfied? Happy. You look happy right now. I like seeing you like this.”

They stilled for a breath before surging forward and wrapping their arms around him. “You’re a goddamn sap, you know that?” They said, turning their head to the side so that their face was nestled into the side of his neck. “I also love you so, so, so much.” Tilu kissed his throat once- ever-so softly, ever-so sweetly- before standing up, tentacles starting to re-sheath themselves, and offering Blair their hand. “Shower with me?”

He looked up at his lover, standing there beautiful and happy, and he nodded.

#monster fucker #monster lover #exophilia #terato #enthusiastic consent #smut #monster x human #minors do not interact #terfs dont fucking touch #seriously if i see a fucking terf i'll fight you

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yutahoes · 4 years ago

Text

Rough

A badly written smut from yours truly. Third part of No Strings Attached and Everybody has Secrets.

characters : boyfriends! Nakamoto Yuta and Jung Jaehyun x Reader

word count : 2.1k words.

genre: smut (Please be warned)

a/n : This is a spur of a time thing. I just wanted to write something for Jaehyun on his birthday and this is the closest that I can do. Anyway, please just kill me after reading this. 🙈

You were already in your second glass of beer, watching how your boyfriend interacted with his guests. Why does his birthday fall on Valentine's Day? And why does he have so many single friends? You should be at his apartment, spending the night together. But here you are, seated by the bar and just watching the sexy man of your fantasy with his friends.

"Why do you look so lonely?" Yuta asked, sitting beside you while laughing to himself. "You're the girlfriend. You should be there." He gestured to Jaehyun's co-workers who were talking at him, obviously flirting.

You rolled your eyes then twirled your chair that you're facing the bar counter. You asked the bartender another glass of beer which he quickly gave you and you downed it in one shot. "And you should be there." You gestured at Jaehyun's group of friends seated on one side of the bar, checking out girls. "Aren't you the bestest friend?"

"That's Taeyong." Yuta corrected.

"Yeah right." Again, you rolled your eyes. "You even share a girlfriend."

He chuckled. "A girlfriend who is currently lonely." You glared at him. His hand slipped on your waist that he's now standing next to you. "So baby girl, what did you get Jaehyun for his birthday?"

You smirked. "Nothing."

"Not even a sexy lingerie?"

"Nothing, Yuta." His mouth formed an o when he realized what you meant, eyeing the erect nipples showing on your dress.

"Then what did you get me?" You stared at him in confusion. Why? "I'm still your boyfriend, right?" You nodded. You agreed on this set-up with both their consents anyway. "It's Valentine's."

You had to giggle at that, standing up. Your body is so close to him that you can feel his warmth, your nipples poking against his chest under the thin material of your dress. Your hand traveled to his chest down to the bulge on his jeans, squeezing it. "Nothing, Yuta."

His mouth didn't leave yours as he opened the door to the bar bathroom. One hand on your back to pull you closer while the other went under your dress and into your thigh. His fingers went to your core and you moaned at the contact. You're so wet. You wanted this. You needed this. "Yuta, please fuck me."

"You're such a princess." He teased then turned you around that you're facing the mirrors of the bathroom, hands on the sink. He slapped your ass that made you moan before pulling your skirt up to reveal your bare nakedness.

You were expecting him to go down on you first since Yuta is amazing with his tongue but you heard something zip followed by a metal hitting the floor. A gasp escaped your mouth when he entered you from behind, pushing your body to the sink. He pulled out for a while before thrusting into you again that made you shout his name.

His fingers held your waist, sinking his nails on your skin that it hurts now. He kept on slamming in you, not bothering if you're hitting the sink or if someone walks in on you. "God. Yuta." You kept on shouting, head bowed down since you felt like spinning. Your knees already feeling wobbly at how he was taking you.

He held your hair in a ponytail, tugging on it and raising your head. "Watch yourself, baby." Your gaze went to your image in the mirror and you swore, you felt like watching a porn video of yourself and Yuta. Your agape lips and the small whimpers escaping your lips made you so turned on that you're clenching on him for your orgasm.

Yuta's striking eyes locked on you through the mirror and he smirked when he increased his speed. Fuck, he is so rough. So good. You gripped on the sink, face pushed on the mirror as you felt your mind-crippling orgasm took hold of you. Yet he didn't stop even if you heard the bathroom doors opened. "You two really." You watched as the birthday boy smirked while watching you two from the mirror, dimples showing that made him so adorable.

His eyes were focused on you as you groaned at Yuta's thrusts, hands stroking the growing bulge in his jeans. When the Japanese guy pulled out of you, your knees gave way and you sat on the floor. You could still feel his cum inside you but your chin is already held by Jaehyun, jerking his cock at you.

Ever since this relationship had started between the three of you, Jaehyun had become feral in sex. It's like their roles switched. Yuta is always the one taking care of you after sex, making sure that you take your birth control pills every day. And Jaehyun became more experimental.

He held the back of your head, fucking your mouth that you felt tears in your eyes. You've given them countless blowjobs before but you weren't used to how rough Jaehyun is especially today. Maybe he is already drunk. You clawed his thigh, wanting to breathe but his length and the closeness of his body on your face doesn't let you. Fuck, he might kill you.

Your jaw was hurting when he pulled out of you and you sucked in a heavy breath before you felt his cum shooting on your face. Fuck Jung Jaehyun. "My pretty cumslut." Yeah, he's really drunk. He pulled you closer, standing you up then kissed you rough while grabbing your butt cheek. "I'll just finish the party, be ready for me later." What?

"Bring her home, Yuta." He ordered the guy who was just standing behind you, watching his every move. "Tie her tight on the bed." Your eyes widened in horror. What the fuck?

Yuta shook his head, handing you some tissues that he got from the side of the bathroom when Jaehyun left the said room. "You wanted this." He wiped the cum on your dress then smiled, "Don't worry, I have a plan to calm him down."

Honestly, you don’t really trust Yuta but you knew he’s the only one who can save you now. He knew a lot of things when it comes to sex that you and Jaehyun had a hard time exploring. So maybe, just maybe, it was Yuta who can help you now. You weren’t surprised that you entered a sex shop. What’s surprising is what he bought inside: rope, whipping cream, and chocolate syrup. What the hell is he planning?

He was quiet even if you reached his apartment and opened the light of the bedroom for you. “Take a shower. You’ll need it, sweetheart.” He ordered then disappeared to the kitchen. You were shaking, what is this situation? And why are you suddenly scared of what will happen?

You took time in lathering yourself, making sure that all nooks and cranny of your body is clean. Judging by the whipped cream and chocolate syrup, it’s food play. But how? And how would that stop Jaehyun? A towel was wrapped on your body when you entered the bedroom. Yuta glanced at you then returned to tying knots by the bedpost. You’ve only been tied up by a belt, a handcuff, or a necktie so this is pretty new.

His fingers were skillfully tying the ropes on the four posts that made you surprised. Even your feet? “Do you trust me?” He asked and you wanted to laugh. No. But you decided to trust him this time. “Lie down.”

The rope on your wrist feels foreign but it isn’t uncomfortable. “If you want to stop, you can free your hand by pulling this loose rope.” He explained then showed you what will happen. It’s amazing. How did Yuta know how to tie a knot like that? “I used to be a boy scout, baby.” But still, do they teach how to tie a girl there? “We’ll use your safe word. Do you remember it?”

You nodded and he smirked before slapping your bare pussy. Words. Yuta hated it when you only nod or shake your head. “Vanilla.” He tied your ankles in a different knot that made you surprised. “Yuta, it’s a little tight.”

“I’ll unknot them if you say the safe word.” He gazed at your body before smiling. “Now to make you a cake.” He disappeared from the room. A cake? It really is food play.

The whipped cream feels cold on your body as he started putting some on your breasts down to your navel. He stopped when the cream reached your waist. “Jaehyun will just choose between his cake or your pussy.” He drizzled chocolate syrup in his masterpiece that made you hitch your breath. This is surprisingly turning you on. "You look so delectable, baby."

You heard keys jiggle and he stood up to greet Jaehyun at the door. You can even make out their voices with Yuta telling Jaehyun that he has a surprise and that he had to choose between two things. Their gazes made you hot that you turned your head to the side to avoid looking at them. You are tied in bed, both hands and feet, with whipped cream on your exposed body. “So is it the cake or Y/N?”

“Why can’t I have both?” Jaehyun asked and you wondered the same thing. How will this save you from intense sex with your boyfriend when he’s obviously so drunk?

Yuta chuckled. “Because you can’t put anything sugary in her. You’ll risk her of a yeast infection and we both don’t want that.” Wow, you thought, Yuta is good at this. “So you can only have one. I suggest the cake since it’s your birthday.” He’s too good.

Jaehyun took the bait and started removing his shirt. He started licking one of your nipples that made you moan, tongue playing with the erect nubs. “You taste so good,” he whispered before slurping the whipped cream on your neck. From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta grinning before going up to the bed with the two of you. You closed your eyes as you felt two tongues on your body, one on your breast and the other inside your core.

You kept on whimpering, squirming at the unadulterated pleasure that their mouths were giving you. Jaehyun kept on lapping up the cream on your body, sucking and biting on your skin. Yuta, on the other hand, is doing the same on your wetness. Not stopping even when you squirted against his tongue. This isn’t a surprise, Yuta can give you head for hours.

When Jaehyun reached the end trail of the cream, he licked your body going north until to your chin. “Hi.” he greeted while giving you that dimpled smile that you love. “Are you having fun?” Fuck, you wanted to punch his face. You nodded and he kissed your lips, “Thank you. But I’m really sleepy.” Wait, what? You gave him a curious look and you felt Yuta chuckling because of the vibrations he sent through your body.

Jaehyun just dropped his head on your chest and you pulled your wrists from the constraints to lightly push him off you. "Yuta, stop." But he kept on licking your inside that made you roll your eyes. "Vanilla." He gave you a warning look before pulling the ropes on your ankle. You checked if Jaehyun is still breathing, he's usually not like this.

"Don't worry, it's just sleeping pills." You looked at Yuta in surprise. "I didn't know the effect happens immediately."

"Why?"

"Because you don't like how rough Jaehyun is when he's drunk." He reasoned out and you raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought you were going to cry earlier." He threw your towel at you. "If he's sober tomorrow, we'll see if he's going to be that rough. If he still is, I'm going to talk to him."

Why is Yuta doing this? This is so unexpected of him. "What?" He asked, then giggled. "Are you falling in love with me?" You probably are.

Yuta smiled. "You know Valentine's isn't over and you need a shower." But you just showered. "Let's get you cleaned up, princess." He offered, holding out a hand for you.

You doubt you'll get cleaned in the shower with Yuta.

#yuta nakamoto smut #yuta smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #jaehyun smut #yuta x reader x jaehyun

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