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fl4tlines · 2 months ago

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Bad Things Happen Bingo – Addiction/Withdrawal @badthingshappenbingo ┆ Square #1

「✦」 OCs: Kay Edwards ⅋ Paris Elswood 「✧」 Content: Addiction ┆ Alcoholism ┆ Cursing ┆ Graphic Drug Use ┆Suicide Mention 「✦」 Word Count: 2,145 「✧」 Relevant Links: Masterlist ┆ .𖥔˚ ♫˚ 𖥔.

⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀❝ So you pour a little more; // And there's no one there to judge you; // At least that's what you tell yourself; // But don't you know, nobody drinks alone; // Every demon, every ghost from your past; // And every memory you've held back; // Follows you home. ❞ ⛧ ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿⛧

“Can you sort?”

Paris held the phone to his ear as he spoke. The third number in as many minutes. He rubbed his forehead and shook his head at the answer from the other end of the phone.

“Seriously? Look – I can pay double.”

Another wince as he received his response.

“Yeah. Cash.”

“An 8-ball? No, just a sixteenth.”

Paris paced back and forth across the living room carpet, biting at some loose skin around his nail as he waited on an answer.

“Mhm, yeah. Yeah. Great.”

He glanced upwards to the clock. Three in the morning. But it was an hour and… something slow. More like half four. He pressed his hand into his forehead again.

“Yeah. Got it. Double in cash. Same spot as yesterday?”

After receiving the confirmation, Paris hung up the phone and finished the last of a bottle of wine from the table. Cheap shit, Kay had told him. Rough. Muddy. Rotgut. Yeah, Kay liked to pretend he knew what he was talking about. Throwing around all the right buzzwords so people thought he had something worthwhile to contribute.

And Paris couldn’t help but find that endearing.

He grabbed a jacket on his way out of the door – one of Kay’s, khaki green with a fur lined hood. Still with a wad of cash in the pocket from yesterday. Now was a good time to be thankful Kay never wore it.

The moment he was out of the apartment, Paris pulled the hood up and made his way down the two flights of stairs in the dark. Wiring was busted. Again. Third time this week.

Chilled air hit him as he took the all too familiar route, head down as he walked briskly. At this point, he didn’t even have to look up. He could work on muscle memory alone for this. And then the last turn. Taking him down a street – an alley behind long since closed takeouts and a nightclub. With rusted security cameras surveilling it. Long since disconnected.

The usual ten minute wait ensued. Agony. Paris paced back and forth, picking at his nails as he waited. But it was always ten minutes waiting for this guy. Even when he did the forty minute drive in thirty. Paris should be used to this by now, but each moment passing was pressure in his chest. If Kay came home and he was gone, that was the relationship over. Done.

But, if he was home? Plausible deniability. Did that apply? An old stash. A slip up at a party. Peer pressure. Anything to shift the blame off of himself. After he had made the call. Gone in search of one more hit.

But it could be worse, he told himself. It could be heroin. Or meth. But he wasn’t an addict like that. He wasn’t. It was just cocaine.

It was easy to forget that he’d reassured Kay in exactly the same way about his drinking. The drinking could have been worse. Paris had it under control. It wasn’t cocaine. It could have been worse.

It still could be worse.

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice broke Paris’ train of thought. Probably for the best.

“You’re not Aiden.”

“I should hope not,” the quick, scoffed, reply. “Cami.”

Paris only had the energy, and care, to give her a quick once over. Long, dark hair. Leather jacket. Skinny jeans. Unassuming. Unremarkable.

“Right, whatever. He spoke to you?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I’ve got it. I can do $190.”

“$350.”

“Never had someone talk me up before. Suicidal or something?” Cami’s response was blunt, but she edged it off with a slight smile.

“I keep my word. I’m not screwing over Aiden. And I don’t need a dead hooker on my conscience.”

“Call girl. But it's your money.”

Paris rummaged in his – Kay’s – pocket and counted out the money in front of Cami, before handing it over to her, and replacing it with a small ziploc that she handed him.

“I can put you on to something better. Cheaper,” Cami looked Paris up and down. When he didn’t respond, she continued. “MCAT. You’ll be paying half. Same kick, better price tag.”

Paris thought about it for a few moments, eyes ever so slightly narrowed as he thought about the offer.

“Cheaper doesn’t matter. This is my last hit, I’m done.”

Cami seemed to do everything she could not to laugh in his face.

“I am. I’m done,” Paris repeated.

“You tell yourself that,” Cami pulled out a card and handed it to Paris, who paused before he took it. “Agency card, but just ask for me. I’ll get you sorted.”

“Listen – I – this is my last fix.”

“Doesn’t mean you won’t need the number.”

Paris pocketed the card. Taking it was far easier than trying to argue with her.

“Are we done?”

“Yeah, we’ll talk soon,” Cami had already decided.

“Yeah. Drive safe or whatever,” Paris muttered as he brushed past her and turned the corner out of the alley.

The walk home could have been therapeutic. A quieter version of the usual busy city. Almost lifeless at this time of night – just about to be revived by commuters on the way to a nine to five. And the bustle was beginning as Paris re-entered the apartment through the door which he had left unlocked. A neighbourhood like this? Even Paris would confess that was reckless. The late night pick up felt relatively safe in comparison.

He crashed down on the couch, still in his coat and emptied his pockets onto the table. Paris cursed under his breath, his life contained only to the mess scattered on the cracked glass surface. With his entire existence laid out like this – who was he kidding? With Kay on the verge of leaving him, the comfort he found here was temporary, but wasn’t everything?

Now wasn’t the time to be tearing himself down, right? He was doing better than he could be. And that must count for something. Rock bottom still seemed so far away.

He took one more look at the table before sinking his head into his hands and continuing to curse under his breath in a low mutter. This was fine. It was fine. Kay wasn’t even home. Wouldn’t be for hours.

Paris straightened his posture and tilted his head back, collapsing once again against the back of the couch. Breath through gritted teeth. It was fine. He had spoken it into existence. It would be fine. He was fine. One last fix wasn’t going to kill him. Not after everything else. This was mild. Quiet night in. Recovery.

Except he knew he was kidding himself there.

Roughly wiping away tears that had not yet fallen, he leant forward on the couch and picked up the clear ziploc. He hardly had time to think as he emptied some of the powdered contents onto the screen of his phone. But he left more than half in the bag. Because this was his last pick up. Because any more would prove he wasn’t recovering.

Paris got to his feet, almost tripping over a discarded hoodie on the floor as he skimmed the pile of DVDs next to the TV. He pulled out a dog-eared copy of Saw III. A movie Kay vehemently refused to rewatch. Written it off as shock value torture porn. Paris slotted the half empty ziploc bag behind the disk and tried to return it to the stack, knocking half of them to the floor in the process.

Compared to the rest of the apartment, the mess was minimal. He’d deal with it later. Before Kay got back.

One glance back at the table, and Paris’ initial focus returned. He stepped over the hoodie on the floor this time and stared down at the screen of his phone. This was just – it was just something to take his edge off. Push some of the itching thoughts back to where they belonged. Maybe the late night trip wasn’t a blaring warning sign. It was proof he had pushed back against the waves of intensity all day. ‘All day.’ After he had run out at five yesterday morning. After passing out in bed from pure exhaustion what must have been minutes before Kay woke. Dealing with the worst of a brutal comedown.

If he’d lasted that long, maybe he could force through another few hours? Then Kay would be home and – Paris banished the idea quickly. Lasting this long was mere proof that he could quit whenever he wanted to. And that wasn’t tonight.

He took one of the loose bills from the table and pressed it over the powder on his phone screen, before taking Cami’s card in his other hand. Slightly too flimsy. But whatever. Paris slowly dragged the card across the top of the bill, breaking up any impurities in the substance. He removed the bill and tapped the card against the screen to target larger clumps, before replacing the bill.

He proceeded to repeat this several times before putting the bill to the side. Paris was methodical, focus drawn into the familiar routine. Even the action itself brought a warm sense of comfort. With continued precision, he separated the powder into several distinct lines. It contrasted the black of the phone screen in a way Paris would only be able to describe as satisfying. Clean.

Paris picked the twenty dollar bill back up from the table and rolled it up, tight and even. Like he had done it thousands of times before. And that probably wouldn’t be an exaggeration. He pressed a finger to each nostril and inhaled in quick succession before bringing the note to his nose. Paris leant forward and sharply exhaled, before inhaling with the end of the note pressed to the first line of powder.

Within moments, the sharp taste hit the back of his throat. Distinct bitter petrol. Familiar. A sign of a better emotional state on the horizon, no matter how brief the respite would be. Paris waited for a few minutes before he got up from the couch and took off his coat, hanging it back in the hall. A futile effort to hide his late night walk from Kay. Because Kay would know. No matter how careful Paris was.

Not that it mattered. It was a problem for later, Paris had already decided. Kay would understand, they could talk tomorrow. Kay would get back from work, they would talk. Paris vaguely remembered Kay saying he had a couple of days off. And they could make the most of those few days. A date. Movie. Drive out to a trail – a hike. Picnic, maybe. Paris smiled faintly to himself as he sat back on the couch.

It would be good. He’d get the apartment back into a reasonable state tonight, and they could have tomorrow. And the next day. His heart pounded in his chest – in his throat. This was fine. Good, even. What had he even been thinking before? Kay wouldn’t leave him. They weren’t on the verge of a catastrophic collapse. Kay wouldn’t hurt him like that.

The hours passed into the early morning. The earlier morning, as daylight began to emerge from the outside world into the apartment. Fractured rays of sun illuminated the mess of an apartment – somehow in a worse state than Paris had dared consider. The beginnings of a headache brought his attention back to the phone on the table.

He should text Kay. Apologise. Beg for some semblance of forgiveness. Swear to clean the apartment tomorrow. Convince Kay not to walk out on him. Because he would.

It wasn’t worth it to stick around.

It took everything Paris had to pick up the phone, dragging a finger across it to collect the last dusting of powder. He pressed it against his gums and unlocked the phone with his other hand, pulling up Kay’s contact.

A text would make everything worse. Paris dumped the phone back onto the table and stood up. Kay would be home soon, and Paris had to sleep this off before he got home. Just an hour. Two.

The only incriminating remnants from the night before were the card Cami had given him and the bills on the table. Plus a takeout box of fries. Still full. He hadn’t been able to stomach the thought of eating, despite the hunger pangs that had emerged through the night. How they were clawing at his stomach, only quelled by sheer nausea. Paris took the money and business card as he stumbled towards the bedroom – a combination of the drink, drugs and plain old sleep deprivation causing his unsteadiness. He tossed everything into the nightstand drawer and almost collapsed into his side of the bed. The thought of undressing – even so much as taking off his shoes – didn’t occur to him as he fell into a restless sleep.

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#whump #whump snippet #emotional whump #whump blog #whump writing #hurt/comfort #Bad Things Happen Bingo #Addiction/Withdrawal #OC: Paris Elswood #OC: Kay Edwards #OC: Cami #OC: Aiden #WIP: Chasing Midnights #mine #i abandoned this blog in october 2023 and this is the first thing i think i've written since then #pretty sure i got hit by the ao3 a/n curse so here's the lore dump #in no particular order over the last year and idk how many months i:#got accepted into uni and moved away from home #then got kicked out of uni and moved back home (i did nothing wrong i swear)#had a fling with a band guy double my age while he was touring and lived out my y/n dreams #got two cats via the cat distribution system #took a weekend trip with a guy i'd never met in person #only to find out he was on bail for multiple things and probably engaged to a girl in japan #had surgery and now only have 203 bones so rip to my scaphoid lunate and triquetrum you will not be missed #also won the ticket war for eras and queued for like ten hours for barrier #somehow managed to survive my feral and reckless party girl era and not get arrested (so far)#and proceeded to do zero writing through any of it #uhh i don't even know what real tags are any more #but my life is back on track now apparently

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cypreus-and-willow · 2 years ago

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Broken Promises

Summary: Ryo makes Saki a promise. So does Shuuji. Neither are able to keep it.

In the bleak silence of afternoon, the girl wanders alone. Floramon waiting impatiently back home for her to return. But she needs this. Time. Time to think. Time to grieve.

How fundamentally changed they are. That nothing will ever be the same again. She has real friends now. That's a good thing. Ryo is gone and so is Shuuji. Ryo will never complain about being nagged by him ever again. Shuuji will never have to worry about him running off and causing trouble again. That's a good thing.

Still, she can't get the images out of her mind. Ryo, her constant companion and temporary friend, running towards the hands, pleading and crying for the safety of his mother.

Shuuji, her cowardly protector and one time partner, running away from friends, begging and crying to stop the danger of his father.

Ryo won’t have to be sad anymore. And Shuuji’s dad can’t hurt him again. That's-

Eyes close, breathe in deep. Shakily.

That's a good thing. Right?

Do the others care? Did they even know them?

"I was close to them both," said her fake. Her copy.

Those things, those monsters. They'd taken from her memories. Close? Those two weren't close to anyone. Saki might’ve been the closest they ever got to having a friend.

“What's your favourite ice cream flavour?” She’d asked, out of the blue. Testing the waters of her new found companionship. Ryo frowned in annoyance.

“Don't have one.”

“Everybody has one.”

“I dunno… vanilla.” Liar.

“Vanilla has no flavour. That's so boring.”

“Don't ask then!”

A plain, simple, uncomplicated flavour. He was a little bit like that. His attitude towards everything was simple. He either liked it or he didn't. The notes of his sadness were subtle. The uncomplicated ice cream flavour tucked away in the corner, largely ignored but always there.

“Oi, Ryo. Today’s the last day of camp. Buy me some ice cream when this is over.”

“Alright, alright. I'll get you your ice cream, brat."

The loud ring of the shop bell brings her back to the present. A person smiling at her behind the counter; his grin wide and his cap, pink. "Welcome! What can I get for you?"

"Um…" she swallows the numbness in her throat. "One scoop. Vanilla. Cone please."

Gold and pink hues sparkle over the river, sun setting in beautiful silence. The pink glow of spring, welcoming. Entreating her to remember. Never forget.

The ice cream numbs her lips.

“Shuuji-san, I don't know if I can make it.”

The sun was rising blood red over the water. The two children so unprepared for chaos as to wear plain oxfords and ballet flats. Caked in mud as they crawled their way by the river.

"You will. We're all going back."

Then Shuuji ran and left her behind. She laughs. Typical, he was actually really good at running. Always running, moving ahead, pushing her past her limits, dragging her forward until she couldn't breathe. Dragging her upriver when they should've drowned or been eaten.

So their trail would be broken. So they wouldn't be scented by the wolf thing that hunted them. So they could buy just a little more time.

And they only bought time until sunset.

He never quite shone as bright as the sun but he tried his best to light their way. Even in the dark where light couldn't reach and he needed them more than they needed him.

She looks at her surroundings, vanilla ice cream quietly melting in her hand. Subtle flavours quietly meeting their subtle end.

I'll get you your ice cream brat.

The pink river loosing its hue, now a dull grey. The sun that lights her way home is leaving and she has to go.

We're all going back.

In the end, she can only remember the good.

“Ryo, Shuuji-san. I’m home.”

#digimon survive #digimon #kimishima saki #saki #tominaga ryo #ryo #kayama shuuji #shuuji #working title #will post to ao3 later #fic #grief #grieving #i honestly dont know if I should use honorifics #it feels wrong if i dont since we kinda use em in my language too #but Ive already written most of my fics without them

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theyhadlightinsidetheireyes · 2 years ago

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the tennant civil war of ao3 poll is incredibly funny to me. literal brother against brother stuff

#ao3 poll #and comparing which ship is older?#listen tenrose was bigger and more mainstream earlier #I have to acknowledge it #but good omens soldier were fighting in the trenches since the 90s #*soldiers #show some respect to the unsung heroes #of small fandoms #who have survived over all this time and came on top

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allsassnoclass · 5 months ago

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for the word guessing game, how about "holiday" or "blue"? -💙

hi @igarbagecannoteven! I've only really worked on two wips in the past two months, and neither of them have those words :( but! i'm going to give you a small snippet from each anyway

From the timkon fake dating:

"Fair," Kon concedes. "I can't lie to Bart, though. He'll definitely know, and he'll tell the others." "Skill issue," Tim says. Kon knocks their shoulders together in retaliation, then doesn't move away, leaving them pressed together. "Not all of us can lie so well that we can do it to Batman. It's concerning that that's a skill you're proud of."

and from a cobra kai post-season 5 one-shot from tory's pov:

It used to be her home. It used to be the only place where she was powerful and in control, where she had free reign to crush anyone who touched her. By the time Robby left, it stopped feeling like that. First Sensei Lawrence, then Sensei Kreese. First Miguel and Aisha, then Hawk, then Robby. In the end, the dojo was just fake trophies and a tightening noose.

#i wrote some more of the ask box prompt for this #still hoping to finish it today #it'll be kinda mid but it'll be done! which is significant at this point #so far this year i've only posted 5 ask box prompts and 2 ao3 fics #which is so far less than any year since 2020 that it's almost comical #but we're surviving #ask #megs #igarbagecannoteven

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kutepik · 1 month ago

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Eyes on you

(nsfw 18+) Caleb has hidden cameras all over his house, and you've decided to put on a show for him.

2k words. posted also on ao3!

stalking, obsessive behavior, voyeurism, fem!reader.

PART 2 IS HERE!

Cameras. There were hidden cameras all over his house. There wasn't a bookcase or a mirror that didn’t have a little dot on it, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye. You only knew they were there by accident: when you took the elevator to Caleb's apartment, you bumped into an excited boy wearing a cap and uniform of a security company.

"Are you Mr. Caleb's girlfriend? What a pleasure, I only saw you in pictures!" The boy waved, taking you by surprise.

"No... I'm just a friend." You said a little confused, and the energetic boy explained himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I saw so many photos of Mr. Caleb with you the day I went to install those cameras that I thought you were dating. He also said he was installing the cameras to protect someone he liked." Cameras? What cameras? You thought, but before you could say anything, the elevator door opened and the boy jumped out. "Let me know if any of them stop working, I've installed so many I've almost lost count! Bye!" And so he disappeared down the hall.

Now you were in the living room, standing there in the middle, feeling the weight of your body and your movements, self-conscious about yourself and alert to the fact that you were being watched. Was he watching you? Now? Right now? That’s fucked up. Jail worthy. Caleb was obsessed with you and if your recent reunion hadn't already proved it, the dozen or hundreds of hidden cameras scattered around that room were proof that Caleb was sick.

But we know the saying: When you point one finger, there are three fingers pointing back to you. More sickening than knowing that you were being watched, from every angle and probably in every room, was the fact that you were aroused. The spot between your legs throbbed, excited by the situation, by the fact that Caleb had probably seen you naked, had seen you sleeping, had seen you showering... It was so fucking wrong that, despite being against everything he had done in Skyhaven right after the reunion, you still delighted in remembering the possessiveness and obsession that melted at the words of your friend, oh, dear friend.

In addition to the burning sensation between your legs, there was this tingle in your stomach at the thought of a man - not just any man, we're talking about Caleb - being so concerned, so devoted to you that he would kill and die for your happiness. In fact, a man who returned from the ashes and survived for you and you alone. He was no longer your sweet childhood friend... But that wasn't a bad thing. Now he became a man who had eyes (many, it seems, all over the house), only and exclusively for you. Caleb was crazy about you, and, oh shit, you loved it, which made you as crazy as he was.

So you had two options: the first was to confront Caleb about why the fuck he had installed so many cameras in the apartment if the only person who spent time there apart from him was you; the second was to pretend you didn't know anything and carry on with your life as if everything was normal.

You always chose the second option when it came to Caleb, ever since you were a teenager and in college. Whether it was sneaking around his room and finding your panties secretly hidden in the back of his closet, or listening to him masturbate while calling your name when he thought he was alone, you always pretended everything was normal. But ever since, and even more so now that you've found each other again, there was nothing normal about it, and no reason to carry on in the same way. After all, if he had changed, there was no reason for you to remain the same or pretend you didn't know anything.

Then there was a third and new option: pretending not to know anything, but taking advantage of the situation to play with Caleb. Basically, make him taste his own medicine. If he wanted to see you, well, he would.

Pretending to be normal, you sat down on the sofa and took off your coat, throwing it on the coffee table. You took out your cell phone and called his number.

"Is my favorite guest home yet?" Caleb answered in his usual animated voice.

"Yeah. I'm bored. Still working? Is it break time?" You remembered that around this time he was most active on social media, so it should be the best time to put into action what you had in mind.

"Ah…You've always been very clever. Yes, I'm on break. I'll be home in two hours and we can do whatever you want. Don't get bored, you can turn on the TV or play a game on the console I have." Caleb was always like that, attentive to you, always wanting to please you. He wasn't much of a gamer, but because you liked games, he had bought a console with the excuse that he was getting interested in games. But now you weren't going to play with the console. You were going to play with something else.

"Oh, no..." You put the phone on speaker and placed it on the arm of the sofa. You lifted your shirt and brought your fingers up to your bra, massaging your nipples. "I want to relax, not play." You said, holding your right breast while spreading your legs, slipping anxious fingers into your pants, brushing the fingertips against the wet panties.

The call went silent. Bingo. He was indeed watching you, like the pervert he was.

"Caleb?" You asked innocently, keeping your voice steady as you started moving your hand in circles, making it obvious what you were doing inside those tight pants.

"A-ah, yes. Relax..." His breathing was heavy on the other end of the line, and suddenly you heard the sound of a zipper being opened. You had to stop yourself from moaning just then. He was starting to touch himself while watching you. "Why don't you, uh, take a shower in my bathroom?" His voice was a little choked. He was probably pumping himself slowly, staring at your live image through the screen in his office. Your pussy throbbed and suddenly your pants were too tight and too hot. You stopped stroking your own breasts and took both hands to the waistband of your trousers, sliding them down your legs. Then you took off your shirt, leaving only your panties and bra on. You positioned yourself again, this time with your legs spread wider and your heels resting on the table in front of the sofa. Your fingers returned to the soaked fabric of your panties, touching the sensitive clit through the wet cloth.

"Yeah, I'll have a shower, I'm just finishing something up." With your middle finger, you moved your panties to one side to touch yourself directly. You bit your lip, holding back a moan, and squeezed your breast with your other hand.

"Fuck..." he swore.

"All right?" You replied innocently, holding back your unsteady voice as you carried on stimulating your clit at a steady pace. You wanted him to think you didn't know about the cameras, so you had to stay as normal as possible on the phone.

"Yup... I- I just hit my finger," he lied, slurring his words.

"Caleb-" You said, catching your breath. "I miss you,"

"I miss you too." He sounded almost breathless. "I can come over now."

"No, you can't. There's work. Or is there something urgent you need to do here?" You quickly pulled down your panties, leaving them between your thighs. Then, out of the blue, you heard the unmistakable sound of a camera zooming in. He must have been eating you with his eyes, and now he wanted a closer look. You opened your folds, circling your fingers around the soaked entrance, like a pervert. You slowly moved the fingers up to your clit, stimulating yourself obscenely again. The other end of the line was completely silent, only a few low sounds and grunts were audible. "Caleb, is there something urgent you need to do here?"

"Uh-" He stammered, and you raised your hips a little, grinding against your hand. "Fuck, fuck," he said. He didn't bother with sentences anymore.

"What’s up with you? I'm feeling lonely and bored here. Can't you entertain me?" You teased innocently, but your legs were already shaking.

"I can entertain you. Ah-" For a second, you heard the wet, rhythmic sound of his thrusts against his own hand. Oh my. Caleb had his pants down, sat somewhere in the FAA, and was touching himself like a teenager while he watched you. And you fucking loved it. "I can entertain you... I can be so, so good for you, if you let me." His voice was raspy and breathless. If you weren't so close to your orgasm, you might've asked him if everything was alright and put him in a tough spot again, but you couldn't even think about that. You were too caught up in your own pleasure. One hand was on your nipple under your bra, the other was all over your clit, and you arched your back on the sofa.

"I- I know you know how to entertain me. You're so good to me, always." You gasped, no longer caring that he was probably listening to the sound of your quick fingers against the wet flesh of your vagina.

Suddenly, you heard a muffled cry on the other end of the line and several "Fuck, fuck, fuck" being whispered like a mantra at a low volume, as if he had his hand against his own mouth. He was coming. And that was all it took for the tingling at the base of your belly to explode and flow out of your pussy in an obscene and intense orgasm.

You had just squirted all over the living room table and carpet, and had probably wet the sofa as well. The two of you were silent, only the audible gasp of your breaths as you caught your breath.

"Caleb? Are you still there? It seems the connection was cut." You lied, still pretending you didn't know anything. He coughed and the sound of things being adjusted or stirred could be heard in the background.

"Yeah, yeah… Probably disconnected or something."

You got up and stood next to the sofa, looking at the mess you had left there.

"Caleb I think I spilled...something on your sofa and carpet. Is there any cleaning cloth so I can clean it up?" You looked around.

"NO!" Caleb almost shouted from the other side. "I mean, it's no problem, pipsqueak. You don't have to clean up. You must be tired from all this, right?" He cleared his throat. "From the trip, and everything. Just rest more, like I said, you can use my bathroom and take a shower if you want."

"Hm, where's that cleaning freak from before? Who are you and what have you done with my Caleb?" You heard a laugh on the other end of the line.

"That's why. I'll take care of it. Please" The last word sounded as if he was begging. "I'll be home soon, and I'll be able to...entertain you, as you wish. We can, huh, relax together, too."

You laughed and picked up your cell phone, walking to the bathroom while dropping your bra in the hallway, knowing that he was watching here too. You picked up your wet panties and placed them on the bathroom door handle. In an instant, you could see a small dot hidden next to a painting, pointing directly at where you were standing. You stared directly at it, smiled and winked.

"I'm waiting for you then, Caleb."

Part 2 is here

#caleb x reader #love and deepspace #caleb x mc #caleb x you #love and deepspace caleb #lads caleb #caleb smut #lads smut #kutepik

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nymphoheretic · 3 months ago

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Synopsis: You infiltrated the Farspace Fleet only to be captured by the Colonel. He looks vaguely familiar...It couldn't be! Could it be...Caleb!

Warnings: Hatefucking, psuedo-cest, CNC (Caleb uses reader's conflicting feelings against her),OOC Caleb(probably cause he's a little mean), gun kink, glove kink, misuse of Caleb's evol, fingering, electrostimulation via his bionic arm, squirting, light degrading, teasing, edging, choking, oral sex (m!receiving and f!recieiving) impact play (clit slaps, spanking, light face slapping), praise, manipulation, breeding, orgasm control, overstim, use of "gege", use of "mei mei" (lemme know if I missed anything!)

Pairing: Caleb x F!Reader/MC

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Caleb has been rotting a brain ever since his trailer dropped and he was all yandere-ish vibes and mean and evil and....I swear I'm a Zayne girlie

AO3

Network: @eveningatthemoviesnetwork

You were visibly shaking with anger as you glare at the man walking around in front of you. How could he dare show his face to you again after being declared dead for a year?! How did he survive the explosion? How did he escape? And the more important question that burns in the back of your mind: if he did make it out, where was Granny Jospehine? Did he just leave her to die?

Your eyes follow him as he steps slowly around the room, an apple in his grip as he stares at it thoughtfully. There was a neutral look on his face as the methodical soft creaks of his boots echoing out as he circles you. You clench your fists tightly as your teeth bites down on the plush of your lip as you raise your chin he finally sits down, his purplish eyes easily locking with yours.

“Gege…”

The pitterpatter of the storm outside strikes against the widow as Caleb regards you with a cool look as he squeezes the apple lightly in his fist. He sits directly in front of you, his knees brushing against yours from the movement. A small, short scoff leaves his lips as he looks down at the apple in his grip. “Have you ever taken a moment to consider…” His eyes shift back towards yours as his lips quirk up into a sinister smile. “…that I was never your brother?” Caleb lifts the apple to his lips slowly and takes a bite, the sound of his teeth breaking the bright red flesh echoing through your ears.

Before you could stop yourself, you rose to your feet, hand held high and smacked it across his cheek. The apple flying from his hand and smashing against the window before sliding down and smearing the glass with its juices. Your chest heaves as you glare at him through narrowed eyes as the force of your slap causes his head to turn to the side, his cheek visibly red. “Bastard.” you growl, voice filled with hatred, yet it still trembles with conflict as the memories of the sweet Caleb you grew up with surfaces.

Caleb slices his eye back over to you, subtly flicking his index finger up and watching as the gravity around you grows dense from his manipulation as you drop to your knees. Lightning flashes, making his eyes glow sinisterly as he rises back to his feet. His hand stretches out and pets your hair as his smile turns back soft. “You’re acting like you don’t remember me, Little one.”

That nickname. It stirs something within you and the image of Caleb - your Caleb - overlaps the man in front of you. His eyes turn playful and it makes your heart beat faster in your chest. “No!” You yell out and when his hand moves to caress your cheek, you lash out and bite him. Your teeth sink in deep as you clamp your jaws down on to the fleshy part between his wrist and pinky.

He lets out a grunt as he grabs your jaw in his other hand and squeezes your cheeks until you release his hand. His tongue pokes out and licks at the indents your teeth left behind on his hand. “Do you remember when we were little and you brought home an injured cat?” He reaches out and grabs your wrist, placing a thin black device around the width as he releases his control over the intense gravity around you. “I put a collar with a bell on it so it couldn’t escape without being noisy.” His hand trails down your leg as he increases the gravity around it to hold you in place on the couch.

You gasp and open your mouth to say something, probably to curse him again when the cold gloved finger of his other hand presses against your lips, silencing you. His eyes harden once more as he rises back to his feet. “Do as you’re told and don’t cause any trouble. You won’t get hurt then.” When your jaw snaps shut his facial expression softens as he reaches for your hand and places it on his cheek, curling your fingers to make you cup his face. “It’s me. I’m back.”

Those words make your heart quiver as you nearly give into his sweet voice. Everything about him screamed your gege - your Caleb, but there was something darker about him that was holding you back. A bit of darkness in his eyes that you could easily spot. You grit your teeth as you could still feel the effects of his evol holding you down. “Gege…If you’re back, then let me go!”

Caleb’s eyes darken when you call him that and he moves his face away from you. His fists clenched tightly, his gloved hand making a creasing sound as his eyes squeezed shut. When he opens them again, he looks into yours. The hatred that burns in them was shallow. He could easily break you if he chose to. “Princess…you didn't pass.” His voice was cool as he reached out his hand.

You gasp as pressure constricts around your throat as the gravity around it moves inward, pressing down on those precious arteries and veins that deliver oxygen rich blood to your brain. Your eyes widen as you claw at the air around your neck to no avail. You try to squirm around, but the pressure on your leg holds you down. Tears begin to form in your eyes as you look at Caleb pleadingly. “Please…ge…Caleb…” you manage to breathe out.

Finally.

The pressure around your throat stops and your hands immediately fly to cup your tender neck as your chest heaves, your breath coming out in pants as blood seeps back into your brain. Your shoulder gives a short flinch when Caleb wraps his long fingers around your delicate wrist and pulls you into his chest. His sweet voice surrounds you as it rumbles from his chest. Your hand curls up on his pectorals as your face heats up, coloring down to your chest. “Caleb?”

“You can't convince yourself to hate me with every fiber of your being.” His finger slips under the small opening at your waist, slowly tracing the skin there in a slow caress that makes shivers roll down your spine. “Wouldn't you agree, Little one?” He practically purrs that name in your ear as his gloved hand presses you deeper into his embrace, a coldness seeping into your flesh through the materials of your clothing.

You meet his lilac gaze and could see the way they soften for you - because of you. It made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. He was right. You couldn’t bring yourself to hate him completely but that did not stop the rage that was boiling within you. You try to remove yourself from his hold but still that heavy pressure on your legs keeps you close to him. You open your mouth once more to curse at him, when he slips his fingers into your mouth and presses down on your tongue.

“Ah ah ah…You still haven’t passed your test, princess.” He kicks your feet apart, his manipulation over the gravity that holds you down releasing its grip but now he has one on your jaw as saliva pools on the center of your tongue until it leaks down the corners of your lips. Caleb’s lips turn upwards into a smile, his face morphing into the one of your sweet gege. You blink once, twice, three times to try to clean your mind. This Caleb was not your gege. This was the Farspace Fleet’s Colonel Caleb. And you? You were his prisoner.

Caleb stares into your eyes, lilac orbs darkening with something akin to desire and need. All those pent up feelings he’s had for you are flooding back so intensely. His fingers slide deeper into your mouth, saliva spilling down the corners of your mouth before he pulls them out completely. He spreads his digits and watches how the translucent strings of spittle slides down them. His knee slots between your thighs as his hands quickly cup your cheeks, “Bite me again and I’ll crush your throat,” he warns before his tongue slips into your warm mouth.

A surprised squeak vibrates in your chest as you try to beat down that feeling of greedy want and desire that you had once held for Caleb before he was lost to you. You had to remind yourself that he was now the enemy, but…why were his lips so soft, tongue so gentle as it strokes over yours, trying to coax a reaction out of yours. Your first instinct was to bite down until his threat replays in your head. You could feel a sheer difference in the temps of his palms as he cups your face under your jaw.

His tongue licks over every part of your mouth, leaving nothing untouched. He strokes over your teeth, the roof of your mouth before finally coming in contact with your own. He swirls it with his pink muscle, teasing and coaxing it out to play with his. He grips your jaw a little tighter with his left hand, cold, hard fingers digging into your skin as a growl vibrates in his chest. He pulls away briefly, tongue flicking out over your lips. “C’mon. You’ve kissed me before, little one. Don’t tell me you actually hate me?”

Your eyes narrow once more as you try to pull your jaw out his grip, wincing a bit when he squeezes it tightly. A hiss vibrates on your tongue before you draw in a slow breath at his taunting words. Heartbeat racing as blood whooshes in your ears as you remember all the sweet shared kisses with Caleb. How his gentle tongue tastes on yours, how his soft lips felt against yours. Before you could stop yourself, your eyes soften as they flicker down to his mouth, his lips looking very inviting.

Slowly you lean in, breath mingling with his as you near his lips with yours. Lips clash in a soft kiss as a moan dares to slip past when his tongue reaches out to play with yours. Feelings that you tried so desperately to keep hidden away, to keep them locked away resurfaces before you could snuff them out. Your arms come up to lock behind his head, fingers digging into his soft dark hair and pulling him in closer. The sweet, familiar taste of apples explodes over your taste buds as you curl your tongue around his in a slow, seductive way. Your eyelids tip close as you begin to lose yourself.

A voice in the back of your head screams at you loudly, shocking you and making you break away as his hands begin to slide down your back. “No!” You say as you push him away, your breath coming out in hot pants as a string of saliva cools as it snaps back against your neck. Gasping when he suddenly slides his knee further between your thighs, pressing it up against the seat of your pants as his hand tips your face back up to meet his purple eyes. “Caleb…what are you…”

He says nothing as he digs his knee in deeper against your core, eliciting another gasp from you. “You don't really hate me. I'm back. I'm your Caleb, remember?” He takes your hand and presses it against the left side of his chest over his beating heart. “See? I'm alive.” His cool, even tone also sounds sad to your ears and you have to look away from his eyes. He was trying to pull you back under his spell. You couldn’t let him. Hold on to the fact that he lied! That he… Caleb trails your hand down lower until it rests on his belt. “Do you still hate this, princess? I’m aching for you.”

“C-Caleb!” You squeak as you try to pull your hand back, but his grip holds tight as he slides your hand lower until you cup his hardening cock. You could feel it rising to full attention, tenting the black slacks he had on and straining against the zipper. “Y-you…” Glaring up at him, faux disgust written all over your face, but your body was betraying you as your thighs hug together around his knee. You could feel yourself growing damp as your fingers curl around his length. “N-no…” You whimper out. Caleb takes your face in his hand gently, squeezing your cheeks until your lips part. Slipping his tongue out, he lets a long, hot dollop of saliva drip down to pool in your mouth. With a subtle flick of his finger, gravity shifts around your throat and before you could even think spit slides down your throat as he easily reverses your positions. The manipulation of the gravity around your leg strengthens and forces you to kneel in front of him, you place your hands on his thighs to prevent your face from being smushed in his lap.

A smile tilts at his lips as his finger comes up to tip your chin back up to look into his darkening gaze. “You remember what to do, right.” He coos softly as his other hand tugs down the zipper to his pants, popping the button open. Caleb shucks them down over his hips until his long, thick cock pops out, the tip leaking pre down the pale shaft, the tip flushed a bright pink. “Come on, little one.” His voice is still that same soft tone from before - the one that makes your heart quiver as you look up into his soft, puppy eyes.

Your tongue peeks out to wet your bottom lip as you are slow to realize what he wants from you. It wasn’t until his cock springs out and nearly smacks your cheek did your eyes widen. “I…No. I won’t do it.” You flinch when his hand raises, but peek one open when his fingers simply brush over your hair as he gives you another soft smile.

“Oh, pretty, I wasn’t asking.” His eyes darken as he lifts his chin, the gravity around you shifting and forcing your lips on his cock. Caleb lets out a groan as your warm cavern engulfs his length, his head falling backward to rest against the back of the couch. His hands ball into fists as he decreases and increases the pressure of the gravity to make you bob your head up and down. He could feel the familiar way your tongue curls around his dick. His lips curl into a smirk, “That’s it. Such a good girl. Keep sucking, just like that. Your mouth feels as good as I remember.”

His praise sent shivers rolling down your spine as a tingle started to throb between your legs. You squeeze your thighs together as you feel slick beginning to pool into the seat of your panties. How and why were you enjoying this? Caleb was the enemy now! He was no longer your sweet gege - no longer your sweet Caleb. This was…Your thought process was interrupted as Caleb shifts, thrusting his hips upward and the thick tip of him brushes against the back of your throat and making you let out a choked moan. You should hate this, but his familiar taste on your tongue made it almost impossible as the hatred in your eyes softened as you tried to glare up at him.

Caleb slowly eases up on his manipulation of the gravity around you until you were sucking him off willingly. He reaches down and presses his hand against the back of your head as your saliva drips down to wet his balls, your soft tongue caressing the large vein running on the underside of his cock. “Such a nasty little cockhungry slut. Wish you could see how you look, sucking my cock like it's your favorite treat.” His voice trails off in another low growl as his hips buck up, heavy balls slapping against your chin as they begin to draw up as his cock twitches on your tongue. “You want me to cum down that greedy throat of yours? Paint your mouth in my color, yeah.”

You didn’t realize that his hold over the gravity around you had stopped as you continued to work your mouth and tongue over his thickness. A moan vibrates in the muscles of your throat and chest as you bob your head deeper down on his cock, nose brushing against the light dusting of brown hair at the base of his pelvis. Thick strings of spittle clings and runs down his shaft as your tongue curls around his tip, tasting the precum that was oozing out the slit. He tastes just like you remembered, sweet with an underlying hint of salty. His degrading words reach your ears and your face burns with embarrassment as you try to remind yourself that he was using his evol to make you do this.

Before you could look back up at him with faux anger, his cock twitches on your tongue, swelling in your mouth as the movements of his hips grow sporadic. You let out a surprised squeak when his hands cup your face as he thrusts deeply, his tip hitting the back of your throat as his seed suddenly spills over. It fills your mouth at such a rate that you have no choice but to swallow or choke on it.

Caleb’s hips thrusts in sporadic jerks as his balls empty his cum down your sinfully tight throat. Oh how he could stay in this perfect little mouth forever. But he was dying for a taste of you. He missed you and your touch so much over the past year, he was gone. “You enjoyed tasting me, yeah? Got you wet between your thighs, little one?” His eyes watch the way your chest heaves as he slips his cock out your mouth and sees the way your thighs pressed together. He tsk’ed when you shake your head “no”. Still denying the fact that you didn’t hate him. That you didn’t hate what he was doing. That you didn’t hate that he was reclaiming what was his long ago.

A ‘scwhick’ sounded in the silence followed by the ripping of leather as a blade slices through the material of his glove. Your eyes widened at the sight of his bionic hand as a knife shoots out of the wrist. Caleb balls the hand into a fist and raises the blade down to your eye level, a grin spreading over his lips as he waves the blade in your face. “You’re wearing too many clothes, baby girl.” With those words, he slides the tip of the sharp knife down your neck, being mindful to not pierce your flesh until he makes it to your hunter’s uniform. He easily slices through the white collar of your top before dragging the blade down towards the red corset top.

You gasp as your breasts bounce free when your top was cut down the center and with Caleb’s manipulation over the gravity around you made it impossible for you to raise your hands to cover them. Your mouth parts in a whimper as the cool touch of the blade crawls over the soft, warm skin of your breasts as you feel Caleb’s eyes locking in on them as he traces his knife over them. “Cale-” Your words are cut off as he snaps his gaze back towards yours and you feel the shift in the gravity pulling you back up to your feet.

Caleb said nothing as he shifted his manipulation to make you rise back up, his bionic hand making quick work of the black pants you wore. His eyes zero in on the red lace of the panties you were wearing and a grin spreads over his lips. “Were you expecting this? You’re such a naughty mei mei of mine.” He says the term like it was a curse, like it was venom on his tongue before his eyes land on the dark, wet spot forming in the seat of your panties. “What’s this? Lying to me about not liking having me down your slutty throat.”

“I…I didn’t! I…I don’t want you, Caleb!” Your words sounded false even to you. You advert your eyes away from his and lift your chin in defiance to his question. “It’s a natural reaction! That doesn’t mean anything, gege.” You’ve learned that he hates being called that now and when you peek down at him out of the corner of your eye, you could see the dark cloud that covered his face. You let out a squeal when his fingers suddenly dig into your hips, hooking into your panties and pulling them down. You watch in mild shock at the long string of slick that connects your labia to the wet cotton patch before it breaks.

Caleb arches his brow up at you, a smirk curling at his lips. “A natural reaction for getting this soaked for me. Your “brother”? He leans in and presses his lips against your mound, nosing at it and listening to your soft gasps as your hands fly to his hair. “You’re a terrible liar, princess. Just admit it.”

You could feel yourself getting weak in the knees as Caleb trails kisses down the innermost corners of your thighs, inches away from your dripping heat. You feel a moan threatening to escape and you quickly bite your lip. Hard. To try to prevent it from slipping out. “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, gege.” Your mouth parts in a scream when a shock courses through your body coming from between your thighs. You yank Caleb’s head back to see his bionic arm’s finger pressing against your clit, a stream of light violet energy surging through it.

“Caleb.” He growls, another surge of electricity running from the tip of his mechanical finger to your precious little pearl. Your voice calls out to him as his tongue reaches out to soothe the sting and his chin is immediately drenched with your juices. His metal fingers slide from your clit to prod at your opening as his other hand wraps around your thigh to pull it to drape over his shoulder. The pointed tip of his tongue circles your nub before his lips close over it and he suckles it into his mouth.

Your legs buckle as your slick bubbles and pops at your hole as his fingers slowly push inside. Fuck. Your heart was pounding beneath your rib cage as your fingers curled into his dark hair and you didn’t know if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer to your needy cunt. His name was on the tip of your tongue but you swallow it back down. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction that he’s broken you down. Made you submit to him and his…Fuck. Your head falls to your chest as his tongue does wicked things to you, slipping between your folds and curling in deep as his nose nudges and bumps against your clit.

Fingers dive deeper into his hair as you could no longer hold in your voice as Caleb pushes his metal fingers in deeper and lets a wave of electricity course through your walls in a pleasurable tingle. “Oh fuck!” The screams of your ecstasy reach his ears, sounding like the gods and goddess were singing to him. His tongue became relentless as his lips suck and slurp at your sensitive little clit, drinking down every drop your slick hole produces.

If it wasn’t for his hold on your legs and the strength of the gravity holding you up, you’d have fallen as your knees buckle when he slurps at your juices as they run down his chin, trickling down his neck as he shakes his head like a ravenous beast. You were close, you could feel your heartbeat throbbing in tune with the pulses of your clit as his fingers dug you out, juices gushed out with every thrust that his greedy tongue eagerly laps up. “Ge-Cal-”

Then suddenly it all stops as Caleb pulls away, ruining your orgasm. Lilac eyes flash mischievously as he peers up at you, his bionic arms dripping with your juices as he brings the fingers to his lips and licks them clean. “Did you want to cum? Come on, little one. Admit it. Admit that you want me. Admit that you never saw me as your brother. Admit that you can’t hate me.” His hand closes around your thigh as he turns his head and presses his damp lips against the plush flesh. “Admit it and I’ll make you cum so hard you see stars.”

Caleb watches you with his lips quirked up into a smile as you whine and try to undulate your hips; seeking his tongue and fingers back into your aching and dripping snatch. But his hand wraps around your waist and holds you down as the gravity around your body places opposite pressures, causing you to stand still. His eyes narrow when you still try to struggle against his hold over his evol and a “tsk” leaves his throat. “I said. Admit. It. Little. One. Stop. Being. Stubborn.” He enunciated each word with a sharp slap to your clit with the flat of his fingers.

You let out a pained whine as each strike was also followed by a small zap of electricity that thumbs over your engorged button as blood makes it swell even more. You bite your lips to stop the plea that almost spills over. Your eyes are burning with tears as you shake your head. You would not admit that you were enjoying the painful pleasurable torture he was putting your body through. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You- “Ca-Caleb…” Your bottom lip quivers as tears threaten to spill down your cheeks. “Please…I admit it. Can I please cum now?”

Your subconscious was screaming at you as your lips betray you and uttered those words, but before you could even think to take them back, to redact your statement, a cool smile spreads over Caleb’s lips as his fingers slide over your soaked slit, smearing your juices over you labia. You bend at the waist, hands flying back into his hair as his control over his evol weakens a bit and a moan escapes your lips. “I…I didn’t…mmph…” Your words are stolen as Caleb shoves his fingers into your mouth, your taste still clinging to the leather of the glove he still wore as he attacks your slit again with ravenous licks.

Caleb feasts on you like a starving man, juices trickling down the side of his face and neck as he ate your pretty cunt so messily. Lewd slurping sounds echoed throughout his room as he drank down every bit of your slick pussy juices that he could. The pointed tip of his tongue flicks and lashes out at your sensitive nub as his lips suck on your labia. As his gloved fingers still thrust into your mouth, the fingers of his bionic hand find their way back inside your slick cavern twisting and turning as he digs for that sweet spot that will have you cumming on his tongue.

You could feel the way your walls were clenching tightly around his fingers as he pressed deeper and deeper, searching for that gooey spot deep within your body. It all felt so foreign to you. This wasn’t the sweet Caleb that you had shared tender kisses with. Wasn’t the sweet boy you gave your virginity to years ago before his “death”, Nor was this your sweet gege that always vowed to protect you. Your voice is muffled by his fingers as you feel your pussy squeeze around his metal fingers as you feel your clit twitch and your juices flood out of you, hot and runny and drenching down his wrist. “Gege!”

The second your juices flow down his tongue, filling his mouth as he greedily drinks and slurps it all down. But the moment that name leaves your lips, he stops; pulling away from your addictive little pussy, a line of slick clinging to his bottom lip as he cuts his lilac eyes up to meet your dazed gaze, his voice was hard and even. “What did you call me?” He watches as your mouth parts in a gasp as he rises to his feet, cock bobbing as he stands, but he ignores the pre that dribbles from the tip to splatter on the floor. Lifting his chin, he snaps his head towards the couch and his evol sends you flying down into the cushion; face down ass up and your back arched so pretty for him. “Would your precious “gege” do this?”

He pulls out his gun from the holster, his legs coming to lock yours between his feet as he leans over you. The cold muzzles of the pistol caresses the hot skin of your spine, starting at the base of your skull and trailing down to the center of your back and over the curve of your ass. His other hand came crashing down on the globe of flesh until the skin was heated and a faint print of his hand was left behind as the skin wiggled. “I shouldn’t have let you cum. If I had known you’d be such a brat.” But despite his words, he was happy to taste you on his tongue, to taste your sweet juices.

You turn your head to look back at Caleb, feeling the cold tip of the gun tracing down the length of your back. You cry out when his hand smacks the flesh of your ass over and over again until the skin was heated and you were damn near in tears. You bite your lip as you feel him nudging the gun against your right ass cheek to stop the whimpers from coming out. Your pussy clenches in anticipation of what he was going to do, body betraying you as it grows slicker with every passing second. Despite your mind telling, yelling, that you should hate this, hate what he was doing to do, your body craved it. Craved more of his mean touches. More of his harsh treatment.

Caleb’s hand fists his cock as he slides the gun down, the cold tip gliding down the line of your ass. “Hmm? Should I punish you for being a brat. Delaying your orgasms again and again as I fuck you? Or maybe this slutty pussy is greedy for something else? You want my cock, little one or…?” He traces the muzzle down the line until it brushes against your glistening slit. His eyes watch as you jolt from the contact and try to pull away as his hand glides faster over his length, squeezing the swollen tip with every upward drag. “Answer quickly before I make the decision myself, princess.”

You try to pull away from the gun, but your hips rock back against it, your labia spreading to encompass the tip briefly. How could he try to make you choose? You…didn’t want either, right? Your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking you with his gun, but was drooling over the chance to finally have his cock nudging up against your most sacred parts. Just as you were about to open your lips to tell him your answer, the cold steel of the gun sinks into your gooey walls, slick bubbling and popping around the black metal.

“Ca-Caleb?” Your voice was a mixture of shock and pleasure as he worked the gun a little deeper as you slowly rocked your hips backwards to help him. As his knuckle nudges at your clit, you let out a mewl and throw your head back. “F-fuck!” The curse leaves your throat before you could even think to swallow it down. You push back further, walls stretching to accommodate the thickness of the gun’s muzzle. You were so depraved for enjoying this, but you would never tell him. You still hated him. Right? Right?

“Shhh….” his hand wraps in your hair gently, pulling it back until your neck is exposed as he sinks his gun in deeper, the wet gushy sounds of your sloppy pussy making his dick grow impossibly harder. As your juices gush out, drenching his gloved fingers and sliding down the handle of the gun, his eyes watch as your naughty hips couldn’t stop moving backwards to fuck yourself deeper on the barrel. “Lemme listen to these slutty sounds she’s making for me.” Without warning, he pulls his gun out, the sticky sounds of your pussy trying to desperately suck it back echoing around the room as nasty strings of your cum drips down the length. “Just look at how you’ve dirtied my gun?”

He pulls on your hair, arching your back so far back your spine pops almost uncomfortably as he waves his slick covered gun in your face. “I should have you clean it, no?” He presses the gun against your cheek, smearing the creamy cum down your skin for a moment as his bionic hand lets go of your hair, still coated in your juices from earlier and wraps carefully around his cock and smears your slick down the length of it. His eyes zero in on your quivering little hole as you tremble under him and his self-control was beginning to waiver. He wanted to keep teasing and edging you until you were screaming his name and only thinking of him and his cock.

Moving the gun away from your face and bringing it to his lips as he notches the bulbous tip of his cock against your drooling hole. He shifts his bionic hand from his cock to grip your hip tightly, his mechanical fingers digging into the plush flesh tightly. As his tongue slips out to lick up the length of his gun, he pushes past those first tight rings of muscles, your pussy immediately stretching to accommodate his girth. Your taste explodes over his taste buds and he moans softly as he was greedy for more, but the wet velvety feeling of your silken walls engulfing his cockhead was starting to make him dizzy with how fast the blood was leaving his head to his engorged cock.

Your head drops to your chest as your arms threaten to give out from under you as Caleb sinks deeper into your warm, gooey walls, the delicious stretch of him filling you was damn near maddening. His name was on the tip of your tongue as you clench down tightly around him, sucking his cock in until the thick mushroomed tip was pressing snuggly against your cervix. A low moan vibrates in your chest as you pant and your hips rock back against his, the slow sticky clasp of skin meeting skin ringing out in the room.

Caleb’s eyes were trained on the sight of your tight little hole as it swallowed up his length. You were perfect for him. Your walls hug him just right, the right amount of pressure that makes him never want to leave your depths. “Fuck.” The curse leaves him in a growl as he places his gun down on the edge of the couch, both hands coming to wrap around your waist to pull you back deeper and faster on his cock. His leg hikes up, foot planting into the soft cushion of the couch as he thrust fast and hard into your tender cunt, pounding into you at such a pace that it was near demonic.

You bite your lip to stop the scream that was building up in your throat, chest burning from holding in your voice as your pussy squelches with every brutal and harsh thrust. The lewd sound of his pelvis meeting your ass vibrates and echoes in the room. His fingers grip your waist tightly, the cold fingers of his bionic arms branding your skin with his marks as his grunts fill the room as well. Sweat forms on your brow as you pant for air, rolling down the side of your face. “Ca-” You quickly snap your jaw just as you stop yourself from calling out his name.

Another low “tsk” leaves his throat as his eyes narrow. His left hand moves to grip the back of your neck and pushes your face down into the cushions as his foot slides up higher, caging your much smaller body under his. “Come on…let me hear you.” He urged as he made sure that with every thrust, he pressed his pelvis against the curve of your ass, grinding a bit to make sure you felt every inch of him. “Say my name. You know you want to scream it for the whole Fleet to hear, hmm?” He punctured each of the next words with a sharp snap of his hips. “Fucking. Scream. My. Name. Brat.”

The dam within you broke and your pent up emotions came flowing like the river of slick that gushes out of you as you cum hard against him, the force of it pushing his cock out as you finally grace his ears with the melodic sounds of your salacious screaming. “Ca-Caleb!”

Finally.

Finally after he’s edged your body to the best orgasm of your fucking life, did you say his name in the most prettiest of cries. He sits back on the couch, hands grabbing you around your waist, using his evol to shift the gravity of your body to make you weightless as he straddles you over his lap. “Such a dirty girl. Cumming so violently like that. I’m not through with you yet.” He flicks his finger down after his right hand notches the bulbous tip against your leaking hole and the gravity shifts downward, forcing your pussy onto his length.

Another lewd scream leaves your tender throat as Caleb makes you ride his cock, bouncing you up and down on his thickness. You had just come and your body was still trembling from the aftershocks of the one he just gave you. Your arms come up to wrap around his neck as his hands grip your thighs as he thrusts up into your cunt. “Caleb! Please! Slow down!” Tears sparkle on your lashes as drool begins to leak down the corner of your mouth.

He grabs the back of your neck and pulls your lips to his, tongue sliding out to delve into your mouth and curls over yours. Caleb then sucks your pink muscle between his teeth. You moan and he swallows the sound down as his hand shifts to grab at the meat of your ass to bounce you up and down on his cock, the tip kissing your cervix with each upward snap of his hips. Caleb felt the way your walls were fluttering, gripping his thickness tightly and he knew that you were going to cum again soon.

Breaking away, a thin string of saliva still connecting your tongue until it broke away to lay coolly against your chin, his lilac eyes capture your fucked out gaze. “Gonna cum again, little one?” His breath came out in harsh pants as your pussy squelches loudly as your juices gush out and wet up the material of his pants still hanging around his hips. “Ffuucckk, you’re squeezing me so tightly.” His head falls to rest against yours as he pecks at your lips sweetly, a vast difference in his powerful thrusts.

Your body was trembling as you rock your hips into his, not caring if his evol was making you bounce on him or not anymore as the pleasure consumes you. The only thing that matters in that moment was the approaching climax he was about to give you. Your nails dig into the material of his black uniform, damn near ripping into it as you claw at his back. “Fuck! Caleb! ‘M’gunna cum!” Once. Twice. Three ti- “Wh-what?” Your voice was a warbled cry when his hands grip your hips, stilling you over his cock.

His lips curl up into a soft, yet sadistic smile as he holds you in place, his evol working against you and keeping you pinned down. “Did I give you permission to cum yet, little one?” He plants his feet down firmly on the floor before utilizing his strength to stand up, his hands wrapping around your thighs and locking your legs around his thick, muscular waist. He moves his left hand away from your body and hooks his finger between your teeth. “Bite only my glove, pretty girl.”

You do as he says, biting down on the tip of his glove and watch with hazy eyes as he pulls his hand free. And finally. Finally. His skin meets with yours as he glides his fingertips down the valley of your breasts to your belly, his eyes widen when he feels the smallest protrusion and his lips crack into a smile. “Look at that. I’m so big and you're so small compared to me, I’m bulging out. Such a tiny, tight pussy you have mei mei.” He teases as he lays his palm flat over the small bulge and presses down on it to hear you squeal out his name as he uses his bionic arm to slam you up and down on his cock.

His knees bend slightly to stabalize himself as his hips move in tune with yours as he fucks you fast and hard. Caleb grips your ass hard, hard enough to leave the imprint of his fingers behind as he bucks up into you, jostling you on his dick as your arms come to wrap around his neck as your fingers dig into his scalp, grazing it with your nails. His eyes shift towards the large bed in the center of the room and his lips curl into another smile as he turns. His cock never leaves your soft, warm, wet walls as he walks over to where the bed was; your salacious moans making him impossibly harder as he grits his teeth.

“Fuck…just listen to her talking to me.” His hands grip your ass tighter as he lifts you up, your cuntsquealching and gushing around his girth as he pushes you back down on him. Caleb stops at the edge of the bed, your slick juices dripping down his shaft and creating a creamy ring at the base of his dick as he lays you down on the plush mattress. You immediately sink down into the softness as he pushes your legs to your chest, ankles damnnear by your ears as he folds you up.

Your breath is stolen from you as your thighs are compressed against your chest as he pistons his dick in and out of your clenching pussy. You grab at his shirt, twisting the material until the buttons pop open. Your eyes widen when the familiar silver dog tag with a small apple charm dangles in front of your eyes. The chain sways to and fro before you and your heart pounds beneath your rib cage as you feel a rush of slick gushing out of your snatch. The necklace you had given him. He kept it. You hook your finger into the chain and pull.

A surprised grunt leaves him when you tug down on his dog tag, making him lean down to meet your lips in a hungry kiss as his hips pause in their brutal snapping. He moans softly when your tongue seeks out his, curling and tasting his mouth. Caleb pulls away, his eyes shining with adoration, desire, and affection for you. “Naughty girl…look what you did to my shirt?” His left hand trails down your body, caressing your soft skin and relishing in the feel of you under his rough fingertips. “Punishment by pleasure. You’re not allowed to cum until I say so.”

His feverish words are whispered hotly against your lips as he pulls his hips back, thick shaft rubbing against your walls as his cockhead bumps against your over sensitive clit. It twitches under his touch as he saws his length through your soaked lips until you damn near were in tears. “Beg. Beg for it. Beg for my cock like the slutty girl you are for me, princess.” He coos softly.

Your teeth worry your bottom lip as tears fill your eyes at his teasing. Your body was beyond sensitive and stuck on the edge between pleasure and pain as the need to cum grows more and more intense. A part of you still wanted to deny him, to not give into his demands, but the bigger, louder part wants to submit to the pleasure. “Pul-please…Caleb…I need you…”

“Hmm?” He leans down, teasing your clit with featherlight touches as he nudges the tip of his dick at your slick hole, sinking the tip in and thrusting shallowly before pulling out. “Need me to what? C’mon. Use those big girl words.”

“Caleb!” You whine out as you try to grab at his necklace again, but he’s quicker than you and takes both your wrists in his bionic hand and pins them to the bed. “I need you to fuck me! Please make me cum again! I need it!”

A feral smirk spreads over his lips as his left hand moves to spread your labia apart, translucent strings of your slick slipping over your drooling hole as he lines up the bulbous tip of his dick. “Since you asked so nicely.” With those words, he slowly sinks back in, making sure you felt every single thick inch of him. Feeling his balls tingling, he set a slow, steady pace, hips smacking into yours with every deep thrust that makes your breast bounce. Your hands twist and nails dig into the meat of your palm as you buck your hips upward and wrap your legs around his middle, your heels fitting perfectly in the dips of his back.

He keeps up that same slow, sensual pace, his hips swirling in slow undulated thrusts as he takes his time. His pubic bone grinds into your clit with every stroke as he slips his fingers inbetween the two of you. Caleb swirls his ring and middle fingers over your clit slowly, pressing into the swollen flesh as he watches your face scrunch up and you writhe with pleasure under him. “Y’like that. Like it as I slowly make you mad with pleasure. Is that something your precious “gege” would do? No, sweetheart, I was never your brother and you knew that. The kisses we shared, the times I held you closer during thunderstorms. The many times have we done this?” Caleb’s thrusting picks up in speed as his emotions hit a new high.

You shake your head as you desperately try to cling onto what little semblance of sanity you had left. But the steady wet smacks of his pelvis against your as his dick makes your pussy gush around him makes that almost impossible. “Caleb. Caleb. Caleb.” His name leaves your lips like a mantra as tears of pleasure fall from your eyes and down the side of your face into your hairline. “You were never my brother, Caleb! You’re my lover!”

Caleb’s hips stutter as his balls tingle and he cums a little at your words. You said it. The one thing he’s been dying to hear. The one thing he was determined to make you say. “That’s fucking right. You never really hated me. You just needed me to fuck the brat out of you, huh?” His hips pick up in speed until he is thrusting in and out of you at such a speed that it makes drool bubble up in your mouth and your tears to fall faster. He captures one of your bouncing breasts between his teeth and sucks the hardened nipple into his mouth, lathing it with his tongue and circling the areola as he works the fingers of his left hand over your pretty little clit.

His balls smack against the curve of your ass as he feels the telltale signs of his release nearing. He quickly moves your legs from around his waist, placing them on his shoulders as he cages you with his body, his thrusting becomes sporadic. Caleb’s hand returns to rest above your mound and spreads, thumb still resting on that tender button as he presses down on the protrusion of his cock in your lower belly. You let out a squeal as the pressure stimulates you from the inside and your legs lock around his neck. The thick tip of his was constantly knocking against your cervix and the fine dark hairs of his pubes rub so tantalizing against your clit as his thumb rubs fast circles.

“Cum. Cum for me, baby girl. Cum so hard for me.” As if by his command, your juices squirt out of your pussy, drenching his pelvis and dripping down his shaft and balls. “Good girl. You want me to cum? Deep inside you and fill you up so full?” His fingers still work over your sensitive clit until you were screaming and begging for reprieve. “Yeah, you do.” He snaps his hips heavily. Once. Twice. Three more times before stilling, his cock twitches within your depths before his seed floods out the tip.

His cum is hot and sticky as it fills your womb, his hips resuming their slow, gentle thrusts to fuck it deeper and deeper still even as the sheer amount overflows your pussy and gushes out with every slow, deep thrust. His forehead drops against yours, the cooling sweat that beads there making your skin sticky as he pecks at your lips in sweet kisses. Caleb slowly lets your legs down from around his shoulders, his left hand massaging your hips in case there was any lingering soreness.

“You okay, little one? I shouldn’t have been so rough…” His eyes widen when your hand slips from his grip and cups his face. Your eyes were soft as you gave him a smile.

“It was perfect, Caleb. I needed this. I missed you.” Your fingers rub his cheek gently as you lean up and press your lips to his forehead softly. You wiggle your hips, feeling his cum slosh around inside you and blinking in confusion. “Uh…Caleb…”

“Hmm?” He hums as he drops his head to the junction of your neck and shoulder, skimming his lips over the soft skin. “Yes, princess?”

You fidget under him, whimpering a bit when he slowly drags his hips out, cock still hard inside you. “How are you still..”

Lilac eyes peer down into yours as a boyish smile spreads over his lips and a chuckle vibrates in his chest. “You didn’t actually think I was done with you, yet? Nope, we have all night. Round Two? Start.”

2022-25 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

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typewriter83 · 1 month ago

Note

I know enough about your lore to know that’s Roger the rooster in your mood board! Ellie has beef with the rooster as much as she does with Bill! it’s hilarious and everyone should read about Roger the rooster!

Y’all are hilarious 😆 that is indeed an iteration of Roger the Rooster. I went back to look for snippets with him, and honestly I thought we saw more of him to lead to an actual “lore” but I guess twice was enough to make y’all laugh!

We first met Roger back in “You’re all that I need (underneath the tree)” when our duo is living on the ranch outside of Jackson, and Ellie wants to roast the rooster for Christmas dinner

The second time we see him (and when he was named) is in the final installment of Donuts & Coffee when Ellie is shouting and Joel is defending his bird

The Roger coming up in this new story has a little more “screen time” - just to piss off Ellie, of course.

I can also tell you that Roger is inspired by none other than HeiHei from the movie Moana. He’s a little insane but he also struts around like he owns the place.

🫶🏻

#mari’s musings #ask away!#endoftheworldseries ao3 #d&c ao3 #Joellie #joellie headcanons #joel x ellie #ellie x joel #since i survived ao3

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fading-event-608 · 6 months ago

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Listen, I know, you all have been seeing fundraiser posts all day long. I've seen people complain that the tags for Palestine are "unusable" now because… genocide victims use it to find aid to survive.

Thing is, those posts will be here until Israel ceases it's aggression. And Palestinians will need your aid as far as they are left with no income and besieged. I've tried reaching out to other platforms, and Tumblr is still the best place for at least Falastin (Gazan who I spotlight for more than 2 months) to get donations; because here you don't need thousands of followers to get interactions. And at least we get one in ten response here; on other platforms both of us don't get any.

So yes, a dying website for fandom is her best bet to save her family right now. We don't speak of evacuation anymore (even though we hope for it), this is a battle for day-to-day survival. The prices in Gaza are increasing every hour, and they have no income and Falastin has gone into multiple debts to help them before starting the campaign in June. And yes, she receives more attention now but her family is still in starvation - she tries to support 26 people now, since her cousin was martyred and his 2 children joined 24 of her family in Al-Mawasy.

Yes, they should get free aid from all those countless non-profits that raise millions. But if they see something labelled as "aid" it is because they have bought it themselves. Yes, you can see (and maybe touch!) aid if you subject yourself to hours-long queues and/or humiliation of being a part of a photoshoot. They also said that the aid they get is stale at best and spoiled at worst; and that's again, if they get it.

Yes, there are grassroots organizations but they cannot reach everyone, because they are in small teams and they don't receive a lot of funds. And you can of course donate to them to try "fix" this; but please do not think that it means individual fundraisers are not worth supporting. I did not see any evidence of individual fundraisers "taking" money from others; on the contrary, when Falastin's fundraiser struggles, I see others struggle too. When we celebrate a good day of donations we celebrate it with others too.

And I could talk about Harris campaign get 1 billion in donations and still receiving them or how AO3 got 200k in a couple of days; but the post is getting too long.

Anyway. Please consider donating to Falastin's campaign; the money would buy food and water first, shelter and clothes for the winter second. There's a raffle for hand-made Palestinian thobe that Falastin's friend makes (LINK); and please follow her here.

Donate via Gofundme (in SEK! check rates below please): LINK

10$ = 108 SEK

25$ = 272 SEK

50$ = 544 SEK

100$ = 1,088 SEK

Donate via PayPal (in USD): LINK

Vetting info: #282 in El-Shab-Hussein and Nabulsi's spreadsheet [here], #957 in the Butterfly Project spreadsheet [here]

#falastin #free palestine #palestine

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kuzoowl · 8 days ago

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Feelings 🖤 [Survive after round 7]

I had always wanted to explore how their feelings would play out if they got rescued, tho, within my limitations of 4 pages for comics

hopefully doesn't read as too much ooc and if it does oh well 🕊️

Also kinda inspired (?) because it doesn't play out like this at all but, since i joined the fandom this fic put this idea on my mind, so if you want actual very angsty stuff i would recommend this fic "let me drown in you" by beefcake42 on Ao3

#already planning part 2 of this #ivantill #till alien stage #ivan x till #ivan alien stage #alien stage #alnst #art #comic #digital art #kuzoowl #my art

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moongirlcleo · 2 months ago

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Fault Lines

❤︎ tags and content: One Bed Trope, Friends to WTF?, Accidental Arousal, Xavier Has Been Holding Back and It Shows, Reader Said “Tease” and Xavier Heard “Destroy”, Xavier Fucks Like He’s Got Something to Prove ❤︎ author note: check out all my fics by searching #moongirlcleo or on AO3

🔞NSFW content - Minors DNI 🔞 Dividers: @cafekitsune Fic: @moongirlcleo

Stuck in a hotel during a snowstorm, you and Xavier are forced to share a bed. No big deal—until an innocent brush of your leg reveals that Xavier is very much not unaffected by your presence. One accidental touch turns into something else entirely, and soon enough, the bed isn’t the only thing breaking.

(Or: You tease Xavier. Xavier loses control. The hotel bed does not survive.)

The train rumbled beneath you, a steady hum that barely cut through the howling wind outside. Snow streaked past the windows in thick, blinding waves, the storm swallowing the landscape beyond. The interior of the train was warm, but a subtle chill still lingered in the air, seeping through the metal frame.

Across from you, Xavier sat with his arms crossed, gaze flickering between the datapad in his hands and the storm outside. He was composed, as always—sharp lines, cool demeanor, a presence that never quite relaxed, even in transit.

You pulled your coat tighter around you, exhaling softly. “I don’t know why they thought sending us out now was a good idea,” you muttered, watching the whiteout conditions blur past the window.

Xavier didn’t look up. “Weather patterns are unpredictable. It was clear when we left.”

“Still. I bet half the city is shutting down by now.”

At that, he finally lifted his gaze to you. “Then we’ll adjust.”

That was such a Xavier answer that you huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Of course. Adapt and overcome.”

His lips twitched—just barely—but he didn’t argue.

For a while, the two of you sat in relative silence, the train’s steady motion and the occasional muffled announcement the only things filling the space between words. It wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Xavier wasn’t the type to fill silences unnecessarily, and you’d long since learned to read the conversations in his quiet glances, his subtle shifts in expression.

Eventually, you stretched out your legs slightly, nudging his boot with yours beneath the table. “So. What’s on your schedule after this?”

Xavier glanced at you, considering. “Routine surveillance. Lower district.”

“Exciting.”

He arched a brow. “Necessary.”

You hummed, tilting your head. “Yeah, but necessary doesn’t always mean interesting.”

“I don’t need it to be interesting.”

“Of course you don’t.” Your lips quirked. “You probably prefer it when things are uneventful.”

“Efficiency is preferable to unnecessary complications,” he replied smoothly.

You smirked, leaning back. “Boring.”

He didn’t argue, but there was something almost amused in the glance he gave you before he returned his focus to the datapad.

Outside, the storm thickened. The train slowed slightly, adjusting for the weather.

You sighed, shifting in your seat. “Hopefully this place has good heating. I don’t think I’ve been this cold in a while.��

Xavier made a quiet sound of agreement, his gaze lingering on the frost-lined window. “It’ll pass.”

You nodded, watching the snow continue to fall. Something about it felt heavy, like the kind of storm that could shift plans, change trajectories. But for now, the train carried you forward, the destination still ahead.

The train groaned as it pulled into the station, its momentum slowing until it finally lurched to a stop. Outside, the city was buried beneath layers of freshly fallen snow, the streets dusted white beneath flickering streetlights. The blizzard hadn’t let up—the wind still howled through the towering buildings, sending spirals of ice and powder sweeping across the platforms.

You pulled your coat tighter around you as you stepped onto the platform, boots crunching against the frozen ground. The cold was instant, seeping through the layers of fabric like it had been waiting for you to step outside.

Xavier descended beside you, his expression unreadable as always, though you caught the subtle way he adjusted his gloves, flexing his fingers against the cold. Even he wasn’t immune to it, then.

A sharp gust of wind cut through the station, and you swore under your breath. “Damn. I think it got worse.”

Xavier exhaled, watching his breath fog in the icy air. “It’ll pass.”

“You said that an hour ago,” you muttered.

He didn’t respond, but you could’ve sworn the look he gave you held a flicker of amusement.

A moment later, he shifted slightly, turning to face you fully. “Your route takes you through the research district?”

“Yeah. Shouldn’t take long,” you said, adjusting the strap of your bag. “And you’re headed toward the lower sector?”

He nodded. “Expected to check in before sundown.”

You huffed, blowing warm air into your gloved hands. “Alright. I’ll meet you at the hotel once I’m done.”

Xavier didn’t respond right away, glancing toward the snow-covered city stretching out before you both. The station was bustling despite the weather—figures in heavy coats moving through the haze of frost and lamplight, their footsteps muffled by the snow.

Then, finally, he spoke. “Be careful.”

It was quiet, just two simple words, but something about the way he said it made warmth flicker in your chest despite the freezing air.

You smirked. “You too.”

Xavier gave a small nod, then turned, adjusting the high collar of his coat as he stepped off toward his destination. You lingered for a second, watching him disappear into the crowd, before exhaling and setting off in the opposite direction.

The storm roared overhead.

<hr>

The research district was eerily quiet, muffled by the heavy snowfall. The usual hum of city life was subdued beneath layers of ice and cold, leaving only the distant hum of power grids and the occasional flickering streetlight to break the silence.

You tightened your grip on your coat, stepping briskly through the narrow streets. The cold bit at your face, but you ignored it, focused on the task at hand. This was supposed to be routine—just a check-in with the local researchers, exchanging updated intel, and making sure all sensitive data remained secure.

Inside the main lab building, the warmth was an immediate contrast. The overhead lights buzzed, casting a sterile glow over the pristine floors. A handful of researchers milled about, all looking more exhausted than usual, their coats hastily thrown over chairs. The storm must’ve been keeping them here longer than intended.

Dr. Lian, the head researcher, barely looked up from her screen when you entered. “You’re late.”

You pulled off your gloves, rubbing warmth back into your fingers. “Blame the train. You have the reports?”

She slid a tablet across the counter. “Encrypted, as requested. But there’s been… unusual movement near the old storage facilities. Someone’s been poking around.”

You frowned. “Any breaches?”

“None yet.” She hesitated. “But I have a feeling it’s only a matter of time.”

You nodded, tucking the tablet into your coat. “I’ll flag it for review. Keep everything locked down until then.”

Lian sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’ll add it to the list of things keeping me up at night.”

You smirked. “Welcome to the club.”

With that, you left the lab, stepping back into the freezing cold. The snow was falling heavier now, thick flakes sticking to your hair as you pulled your coat tighter. You had what you came for—now, it was time to meet up with Xavier.

<hr>

Xavier moved through the lower sector with practiced ease, slipping between narrow alleyways and quiet streets, his breath fogging in the cold air.

The lower district was always unpredictable. Even in this weather, figures loitered in the shadows, half-hidden beneath hoods and coats. It wasn’t just the cold that made people keep their heads down here.

He stepped into a dimly lit outpost, the faint hum of security monitors filling the air. The contact he was meeting—a wiry man with sharp eyes and a nervous twitch—didn’t bother with greetings.

“There’s been movement,” the man muttered, pulling up a grainy feed on one of the monitors. “Near the restricted zones.”

Xavier studied the footage. Silhouettes moving where they shouldn’t be. Patterns that suggested more than just random strays.

“They’re testing the perimeter,” Xavier observed.

The contact nodded grimly. “I don’t know what they’re planning, but it’s not small.”

Xavier exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “I’ll report it.”

The man hesitated. “You think command will take it seriously?”

Xavier’s gaze was sharp. “They will.”

That seemed to settle things. The contact leaned back, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Storm’s getting worse. You should get moving before the trains start shutting down.”

Xavier was already turning toward the door. “I have somewhere to be.”

<hr>

By the time you reached the hotel, the city was practically buried in snow. The storm had thickened into an unrelenting whiteout, the streets coated in ice, the distant hum of emergency broadcasts echoing through the streets.

The lobby was a welcome relief—warm, modern, with soft golden lighting and a quiet hum of activity as stranded travelers checked in. You sighed, shaking the snow from your coat as you stepped inside.

You didn’t have to look long to find Xavier. He was already there, standing near the front desk, his coat dusted with snow, his sharp gaze scanning the room. He looked up as you approached, his expression as unreadable as ever, though you caught the flicker of assessment in his gaze—checking for injuries, exhaustion, anything out of place.

“I take it your mission went smoothly?” he asked.

You exhaled, pulling off your gloves. “Define smoothly.”

A ghost of amusement passed through his eyes, but he didn’t press. “We should check in before the storm worsens.”

You nodded, glancing around. The hotel was filling up fast—travelers seeking shelter, some looking frustrated as they spoke to staff. You didn’t think much of it. Not yet.

As Xavier turned toward the front desk, you followed, unaware that in just a few minutes, everything was about to go very, very wrong.

The warmth of the hotel lobby did little to thaw the exhaustion settling in your bones. The storm outside had only worsened, snow piling against the glass doors as wind howled through the streets. More travelers had filtered in, their coats damp, their faces pinched with frustration as they spoke with staff.

Still, you weren’t concerned. Not yet.

Xavier stepped up to the front desk, cool and composed as always, while you busied yourself rubbing warmth back into your fingers. The receptionist—a tired-looking woman with dark circles under her eyes—offered a polite, if strained, smile.

“Welcome,” she said, fingers already moving across her console. “Name on the reservation?”

“Xavier.” His voice was clipped, efficient. “There should be two rooms.”

The receptionist’s expression faltered. That was the first sign something was wrong.

She frowned at the screen, then hesitated. “Ah. About that.”

Xavier’s brows barely lifted, but you caught the subtle way his posture shifted.

You sighed. “What about that?”

The receptionist winced. “It seems there was a… logistical issue. Due to the storm, we had several unexpected bookings. We did our best to accommodate, but unfortunately—”

A pause. A weary glance between the two of you.

“There’s only one room available.”

Silence.

You stared at her. “One room?”

She nodded apologetically. “We’re completely booked. Every available space has already been filled.”

You exhaled, slow and measured. “Okay. Fine. Not ideal, but fine. It’s at least a double room, right?”

Another hesitation.

Your stomach dropped.

“It’s a single,” she admitted. “With one bed.”

Another beat of silence. This time, heavier.

You weren’t looking at Xavier, but you felt the shift in the air beside you. Like he’d gone perfectly, painfully still.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, finally, you turned toward him. “Well,” you said, voice drier than the tundra outside. “That’s unfortunate.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened just slightly. “...Yes.”

The receptionist, clearly desperate to smooth things over, jumped in. “I truly apologize for the inconvenience. We’d offer a cot, but we’re out of those as well.”

Of course.

You dragged a hand down your face. “Right. So. One room. One bed.”

Xavier exhaled through his nose, the sharp edge of frustration barely visible beneath the usual composure. “It’s late,” he said, voice even. “We’ll take it.”

You blinked. “We will?”

“It’s a bed,” he said, tone just a little too pragmatic. “Given the alternatives, it’s acceptable.”

You squinted at him, but he was already reaching for the room key.

Fine. Fine. You could handle this.

Probably.

Without another word, you grabbed your bag and followed him toward the elevator, the tension trailing behind you both like a second storm.

The moment the door clicked open, you immediately assessed the situation.

It was a nice room—modern, warm, with soft lighting and a window overlooking the snow-covered streets. The heater hummed quietly in the corner, doing its best to chase away the outside chill.

But none of that mattered. Because the centerpiece of the room—the only piece of furniture that really mattered—was the large, singular bed pressed against the far wall.

You and Xavier stood in the doorway, silent.

Neither of you moved.

Finally, you sighed, stepping inside and tossing your bag onto the chair in the corner. “Alright. We’re both adults. This is just sleeping. No big deal.”

Xavier made a noise that sounded suspiciously like agreement, though he was still standing stiffly by the door, like he wasn’t quite ready to commit to entering.

You shot him a look. “Don’t tell me you’re the one making this weird.”

He exhaled sharply, stepping further inside, his movements precise and controlled. “I’m not making it anything.”

“Good,” you said, kicking off your boots. “Because I really don’t have the energy to sleep in the bathtub.”

He gave you a glance—flat, unimpressed. “That’s unnecessary.”

“Well, yeah, but so is sharing a bed with you.”

He didn’t argue.

Another beat of silence stretched between you before he finally moved toward his side of the room, undoing the buttons on his coat with careful precision. His gloves landed neatly on the table, his every movement deliberate, measured.

You, meanwhile, were already face-down on the bed, groaning into the pillow. “This is going to be so awkward.”

Xavier paused, then muttered, “Agreed.”

The heater hummed. The storm raged on outside. And the two of you stood at opposite sides of the room, acutely aware that sooner or later, you’d have to turn off the lights—and deal with the fact that there was, in fact, only one bed.

You exhaled slowly, rubbing your hands over your face as you sat up. The warmth of the room was helping, but the cold from outside still clung to you, a deep chill settled in your bones.

“I’m taking the shower first,” you announced, standing before Xavier could argue. “I need to thaw out before I turn into an icicle.”

He barely glanced up from where he was unzipping his bag. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated. You weren’t sure what you expected—maybe some kind of snark, or another pointedly flat agreed, but no. He was just… casually rolling up his sleeves, focused on methodically unpacking.

Right. Fine. Normal behavior.

You grabbed some clothes from your bag and stepped into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

The moment you were alone, you let out a long breath.

Okay. This wasn’t that bad. It was temporary. Just a minor inconvenience. You could handle one bed. It wasn’t like you and Xavier were going to be cuddling or anything. You’d both just stay on your own sides and get through the night like professionals.

Totally fine.

You turned on the water, stripping off your cold-dampened clothes while the steam began to curl against the mirror. The shower was heaven—hot water rolling over your skin, the kind of warmth that made your muscles finally start to relax. You stayed there longer than necessary, letting the heat chase away the tension in your shoulders, the chill in your fingers.

By the time you stepped out, wrapped in a towel, the mirror was fully fogged over.

And yet, despite the warmth, a prickle of anticipation settled in your stomach. Because you were about to step back into that room. And Xavier would still be there.

You shook off the thought, quickly pulling on fresh clothes before running a towel through your hair. This was fine. Completely fine.

While you were in the shower, Xavier busied himself with the simple, methodical process of unpacking. Clothes folded. Gear stowed away. Weapons secured. It was a routine he could do on autopilot, a way to ground himself in the familiarity of order.

But then his communicator buzzed.

His gaze flicked to the screen, reading the message quickly.

UPDATE: Due to severe weather conditions, all travel has been suspended. No departures until further notice.

Xavier’s jaw tensed.

More than one night, then.

He glanced toward the bathroom, where the faint sound of running water still filled the room. You didn’t know yet.

He should tell you. It would be the practical thing to do. But instead, he sat down at the edge of the bed, pressing the heel of his hand against his forehead, willing away the very real fact that he was about to spend multiple nights sharing a space with you.

With you.

Xavier had trained himself well—his focus was sharp, his control ironclad. But that control had never been tested quite like this.

He was used to watching you. Observing from a distance, cataloging your habits, the way you moved, the way you felt—a presence that had long since embedded itself in his mind. It was something he could usually ignore, tuck away in the part of his brain that kept things need-to-know, classified, untouchable.

But now there would be no distance.

His gaze flicked toward the bed—the single, far too small bed.

His fingers twitched at his side.

This wasn’t ideal. But it was just sleeping. A basic, biological necessity. If he could manage high-risk operations, enemy encounters, and missions that required complete emotional detachment, then he could certainly manage this.

Except…

His mind betrayed him for a second, slipping past the carefully constructed walls. A flicker of something unbidden—the thought of you in this room, shifting under the covers, breathing soft in the dark.

He exhaled sharply. It’s fine.

The bathroom door opened, and a wave of steam curled into the room as you stepped out, dressed in warm, comfortable clothes, hair still damp.

His gaze barely flickered over you before he forced himself to turn back to his bag, fastening the last strap with precise efficiency.

You arched a brow. “You unpacked?”

“We’ll be here longer than expected.” His voice was as even as ever, though he left out the part about how much longer.

You groaned. “I was afraid of that.”

He nodded. “You should get comfortable.”

You snorted, running a hand through your damp hair. “Right. Super easy when I have to share a bed with you.”

A pause. His grip tightened slightly on the strap of his bag.

That feeling surged up again—quick, sharp, gone before he could examine it.

“...I’ll shower,” he said simply, stepping past you toward the bathroom.

And just like that, he put space between you again, slipping back into the safety of cold water and careful control.

<hr>

Xavier emerged from the bathroom, steam rolling out behind him, his damp hair slightly tousled from where he’d run a towel through it. He had changed into a black shirt and sleep pants, the kind of simple, no-nonsense outfit you should not have thoughts about—but here you were, thinking them anyway.

You quickly shoved those thoughts aside and buried yourself deeper under the covers, pulling the blanket higher like it could somehow shield you from reality. This is fine.

He crossed the room with his usual quiet efficiency, placing his folded clothes exactly where he wanted them, movements sharp, precise, completely unfazed—meanwhile, you were lying there, internally screaming.

Then came the moment you’d been bracing for.

Xavier lifted the blanket and slid into the bed.

You stared at the ceiling. He stared at the ceiling.

The bed felt smaller than it had five minutes ago.

A whole galaxy of space existed elsewhere in the room, but here, under this blanket, it felt like you were occupying the same inch of breathable air. His warmth seeped into the space between you, his presence too much despite the fact that he hadn’t even touched you.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position.

Unfortunately, that meant accidentally brushing your foot against his leg.

It was meant to be nothing. A brief, fleeting touch. But the second your freezing toes made contact with his skin—

Oh.

You barely had time to register the fact that he’d tensed before you realized something much, much worse.

That was not his leg.

Your entire body locked up, a slow, creeping horror spreading through your system as realization slammed into you like a freight train.

Xavier was hard.

Like—no-question-about-it, very visibly affected, no way to ignore it—hard.

You stopped breathing.

He stopped breathing.

A thick, suffocating silence filled the room as the two of you lay there, perfectly still, your foot still traitorously pressed against the very real, very undeniable evidence of whatever the hell this was.

Your brain short-circuited.

Oh no. Oh no.

Your entire being screamed at you to move, to fix this, to rewind time and pretend this never happened—but it was like your body had forgotten how to function.

And Xavier?

Xavier was still not moving.

Which was somehow worse, because that meant he was actively trying not to react. And Xavier never hesitated, never faltered, never got thrown off his game.

Until now.

Very, very slowly, you retracted your foot, heat rushing to your face so fast it was a miracle you didn’t spontaneously combust.

“…So,” you whispered, voice strangled. “That’s a thing that’s happening.”

Xavier inhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenched so tightly you were afraid he might break a tooth.

You were about to make a joke—something, anything to cut the tension—when his voice finally came, low and dangerously controlled:

“Go to sleep.”

A pause.

Then, unable to help yourself—because you were you and your survival instincts were terrible—you murmured, “Not sure I can now.”

His fingers twitched against the blanket.

You bit your lip, glancing sideways at him. “I mean, should we—”

“Don’t.”

His voice was strained, his breathing controlled, but when you turned your head slightly, you caught it—that look in his eyes. The kind of restraint that meant he was holding back something dangerous.

Something he wanted.

And now, neither of you were pretending anymore.

You could feel the tension thick in the air, pressing down on both of you. You weren’t even sure who was going to break first.

But someone was going to.

The silence stretched between you like a drawn wire, tense and vibrating with something neither of you could ignore anymore. The heat from his body was palpable now, pressing into your side despite the fact that you weren’t even touching.

Not yet.

Your breath came shallow. You could feel the weight of his restraint, the tight coil of it in his muscles, the way his fingers flexed once, twice against the blanket like he was debating something.

You had no idea what would happen if one of you pushed just a little harder.

So, naturally, you did.

Slowly—carefully—you turned onto your side, facing him in the dim light. The sheets shifted, a whisper of fabric, and Xavier’s breath hitched.

And that’s when you knew.

Knew that he was right there, standing on the very edge of whatever this was, waiting for a single excuse to fall.

“…Xavier.” Your voice was softer than you intended, edged with something you couldn’t name.

He didn’t answer.

But then—he moved.

One second, he was rigid beside you, a locked system of restraint. The next, he was rolling onto his side, facing you fully, the heat of his body washing over you like a second blanket.

Then—his hand.

Slow, deliberate, sliding beneath the covers. His fingers brushed over your hip first, barely a touch, before skimming lower, wrapping around your thigh.

You squeaked.

That was all it took.

Xavier exhaled sharply, and then he dragged you closer, his grip firm, pressing your leg over his. The blanket shifted, tangled between you, but you barely noticed because—

Oh. Oh, he was right there.

The sharp scent of clean skin and faint soap. The warmth of his breath, slow but heavy, controlled but barely. His hand on your thigh, fingers pressing in like he wanted to memorize the shape of you.

His voice, when it finally came, was deep, wrecked.

“You keep moving closer,” he murmured, low and deliberate. “What is it you want?”

Your stomach flipped.

“You,” you blurted before you could stop yourself.

A mistake. A massive mistake.

Because Xavier laughed.

Not his usual dry, nearly silent exhale. No—this was low, amused, but dark at the edges, like he’d just been given permission to be exactly what he was.

His hand flexed against your thigh.

And then, so easily, so naturally, he rolled on top of you.

The weight of him pressed you into the mattress, slow and intentional, his knee sliding between your legs like it belonged there.

A breath. His lips ghosted over your cheek, not quite kissing you, but close enough to make your heart stutter.

Then, finally—

“I know,” he murmured against your skin.

And then he kissed you.

Xavier kissed you like he had been waiting—starving for this, for you. There was no hesitation, no testing the waters—just the sheer weight of his mouth pressing against yours, his body crowding into your space until there was nowhere left to run.

You gasped against him, and he took full advantage, slipping his tongue between your lips, deepening the kiss with a precision that made your head spin.

His knee pressed higher between your legs, parting them further, and the friction—God, the friction—made a pathetic little sound slip from your throat.

That sound?

It broke him.

Xavier growled, low and rough, and then his hands were on you—gripping your waist, your thighs, fingertips digging into your skin like he was holding himself back from something even worse.

He wasn’t just kissing you—he was devouring you.

“This what you wanted?” he murmured against your lips, voice thick, wrecked. His teeth scraped your bottom lip, teasing, before he soothed the sting with his tongue. “This why you kept shifting closer?”

Your brain barely functioned enough to register the question, let alone form a response.

You nodded—probably too eagerly—and he chuckled, dark and knowing.

“Thought so,” he muttered, dragging his mouth down your jaw, your throat, tongue flicking over the rapid pulse there.

Then, without warning—his hand slid under your shirt.

You gasped, body arching instinctively as his fingers dragged up your stomach, slow and teasing. He didn’t rush—he took his time, like he was mapping you out, learning every inch of you by touch alone.

You squirmed, half-desperate, half-mortified by how easily he had you falling apart beneath him. “Xavier—”

“Mm.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Still cold?”

The bastard.

You barely had time to scowl before his fingers hooked into the waistband of your shorts, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” he murmured, his voice silk and sin. “I’d have warmed you up already.”

Then his fingers dipped lower.

Your body jerked—a strangled sound leaving your throat—and Xavier just smirked against your skin, all sharp teeth and wicked satisfaction.

Xavier’s fingers traced the edge of your waistband, deliberate, teasing, a slow drag of knuckles against your hip that made your breath stutter. His body was still pressed against you, the heat of him seeping into your skin, his knee still nestled between your thighs, keeping them parted just enough to be maddening.

His lips brushed against your jaw, trailing lower, slow, like he was savoring every second of this.

“You’re already shaking,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, with something darker. His teeth scraped lightly over your pulse point. “Barely even touched you yet.”

You wanted to snap back, say something, but the second his fingers slid beneath your shorts, all coherent thought vanished.

You gasped—your hips jerking instinctively—and Xavier made a quiet, satisfied noise, his breath hot against your throat.

“There it is,” he murmured, almost like he’d been waiting for that reaction. His fingers skimmed lower, brushing just barely where you needed them, teasing, testing, not nearly enough.

You squirmed, fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to get more, trying to—

“Ah.” His voice was soft but firm, a warning wrapped in silk. His free hand caught your wrist, pinning it against the mattress. “Stay still.”

You whimpered, half-frustrated, half-desperate, and that did something to him—you felt it in the way his body tensed, in the sharp exhale through his nose, in the way his grip on your thigh tightened.

Then, very slowly, he dragged his lips back up to your ear, his fingers finally slipping between your thighs, barely parting you.

“Good girl,” he whispered.

You whined.

Xavier chuckled—low, dark, pleased—before he sank his fingers into you.

Your back arched hard, a strangled moan ripping from your throat, and he groaned at the feeling of you around him, hot and wet and clenching around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his control cracking at the edges. “You’re soaking.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t think, not when he curled his fingers just right—pressing against that spot that made your entire body tremble.

“Sensitive, too,” he mused, voice rough, wrecked. His mouth was back on your throat, biting, soothing, ruining you. “Poor thing.”

His pace was slow at first, deliberate, making sure you felt every movement, every deep press of his fingers, every subtle shift of his wrist.

Then he picked up the pace.

And you—you came apart.

Your breath hitched, your nails digging into his arm, your body tightening around him as the pleasure spiked—a helpless, broken moan escaping your lips.

Xavier cursed softly, his hand tightening on your hip, keeping you right there, right on the edge.

“Come on,” he murmured, a dangerous promise in his voice. “Let me feel it.”

That was all it took.

The pleasure hit—white-hot, all-consuming, tearing through you like a live wire. Your body arched, thighs trembling, breath shattered as you tumbled over the edge.

Xavier groaned, feeling you clench around his fingers, riding it out, his lips pressed against your jaw, his breath ragged.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your heavy breathing, the faint hum of the heater, the storm still raging outside.

Then, finally, Xavier slowly withdrew his fingers.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he lifted them to his lips—watching you, watching your reaction—as he slipped them into his mouth.

Your stomach flipped.

He groaned softly, eyes dark, heat pooling behind them. “Sweet,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Your brain short-circuited.

He smirked, then leaned down, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered—

“You’re still cold, aren’t you?”

A pause.

Then—

“I should fix that.”

Your body was still trembling, heat coiling low in your stomach, your breath uneven from the aftermath of what Xavier had just done to you. But as he hovered over you, smirking like he’d won, you decided—

No.

If he thought he was the only one who could play this game, he was wrong.

Your fingers, still unsteady but determined, trailed down his chest, skimming over the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt. Xavier’s smirk faltered just slightly, his sharp eyes flicking to yours, curiosity flashing behind them.

“Oh?” he murmured, voice all velvety amusement. “Feeling bold?”

You didn’t answer. You just pushed.

A sharp shove against his chest, enough to catch him off guard, enough to tip the balance—he let you roll him onto his back, his broad frame sinking into the mattress beneath you.

Xavier blinked up at you, surprise flickering across his face for half a second before it was replaced by something hungrier.

He let you do this.

He wanted you to do this.

And now that you were here? Oh, you were going to make him pay.

You straddled his hips, palms splaying over his chest, feeling the steady, controlled rise and fall of his breathing. His pupils were blown wide, his lips slightly parted—but his hands? His hands stayed right where they were, resting at his sides, like he was waiting to see what you’d do.

You smirked.

“Oh,” you murmured, dragging your nails lightly down his stomach, “I’m just returning the favor.”

His breath hitched. Barely. But you felt it.

Your fingers slipped lower, tracing the waistband of his sleep pants, feeling the sharp inhale he took as you brushed against the very obvious problem he was dealing with.

Xavier’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t move.

So you did.

Slow, deliberate—you reached inside, wrapping your fingers around him, feeling just how thick and hot he was, how he twitched under your touch.

That was the first time you heard it—

A ragged breath.

Not controlled. Not calculated.

Just raw need.

“Fuck.” His voice was low, strained, his head tipping back against the pillow as his fingers finally clenched in the sheets.

You grinned, feeling intoxicatingly powerful.

“You are warm,” you mused, stroking him, watching the way his muscles tensed beneath you.

Xavier groaned, hips jerking slightly, his grip on the sheets tightening like he was actively fighting the urge to take control back.

“I can’t tell if you’re teasing me,” he muttered, voice wrecked, “or if you actually don’t know what you’re doing.”

Your fingers squeezed just a little harder.

His breath stuttered.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you whispered.

Then, before he could form a response, you leaned down, dragging your lips over his throat, biting, your hand still working him in slow, torturous strokes.

And that?

That broke him.

Xavier snapped.

His hands moved—gripping your hips, grinding you down against him, making you feel how hard he was, how much he needed this.

His lips ghosted over your ear, his voice low, wrecked, but dangerous.

“You want to play this game?” he rasped. “Fine.”

Then he flipped you again, pinning you hard against the mattress.

“Let’s see if you can handle what happens next.”

Xavier’s grip on your hips was tight, bordering on bruising as he pinned you beneath him, his body pressing into yours, heavy and hot. His breath was ragged, his pupils dark and hungry, and you could feel the exact moment his restraint snapped.

“You wanted to tease?” he muttered, his voice thick, dangerous, pressing his knee between your thighs. “You wanted to test me?”

You swallowed hard, but before you could even think of an answer, Xavier shoved your shorts down, ripping them off like they were nothing, like he had zero patience left.

“Xavier—” You gasped, your breath hitching as the cold air kissed your now-exposed skin—

But then—

Then he slammed into you.

Your back arched off the mattress, a strangled, broken moan escaping your lips as he buried himself deep, stretching you open, filling you.

“Oh, fuck—”

Xavier groaned, his head tipping back for half a second, like he was reveling in the way you clenched around him, your body squeezing him so tight he could barely move.

Then his gaze snapped back to yours, sharp and wrecked.

“You can take it,” he muttered, voice low, wrecked, a promise more than a reassurance. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you slightly, angling you just right before—

He thrust.

Hard.

The bed slammed against the wall with a crack.

You screamed, nails digging into his back as the force of it sent you rocking into the mattress, your brain going completely blank from the sheer intensity.

Xavier didn’t let up.

He set a brutal pace—deep, relentless, every snap of his hips sending the headboard smashing into the wall, rattling the entire bed frame like it was barely holding together.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growled against your ear, his breath hot, his voice raw. “Look at you—” Another hard thrust. Another wrecked, helpless moan from you. “—taking me so well.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

He had you pinned, your legs wrapped around his waist, your fingers tangled in his hair, your body shaking beneath him as he fucked you like he owned you.

The headboard cracked again, the frame creaking under the force, but Xavier didn’t care—he just kept pounding into you, chasing something deeper, something desperate.

“You feel fucking perfect,” he groaned, pressing his forehead against yours, his teeth gritted as he slammed into you again, harder, faster.

The bed frame snapped.

One of the legs gave out with a violent crack, the entire mattress tilting, sending you both crashing deeper into the ruined frame—

But Xavier didn’t stop.

If anything, it made him worse.

A feral sound tore from his throat, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace turning almost brutal as he wrecked you, fucked you into the now-broken bed like nothing else in the world existed except the feeling of you wrapped around him.

“You wanted this,” he rasped, biting at your jaw, your throat, dragging his teeth over your skin. “Didn’t you?”

You sobbed out something that was probably supposed to be a yes, but it came out as nothing but a guttural moan.

Xavier chuckled darkly, dragging his fingers between your bodies, finding your clit—

And that broke you.

Your entire body locked up, your breath catching, the pleasure slamming into you like a fucking tidal wave—

You came hard, a choked cry escaping your lips as you clenched around him, body trembling, legs tightening around his waist.

Xavier groaned, his rhythm faltering, his fingers digging into your skin as he buried himself deep one final time, his body shuddering as he came with a low, wrecked growl against your throat.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, the faint hum of the heater, the creak of the ruined bed beneath you both.

Then—

“Fuck.” Xavier exhaled sharply, forehead pressing against your shoulder as his body relaxed, chest rising and falling with the aftershocks.

You stared at the ceiling, completely spent, still buzzing from the intensity of it all.

After a long pause—

“You broke the bed,” you muttered breathlessly.

Xavier let out a short, breathless laugh against your skin, his body still heavy on top of you. “Technically,” he murmured, voice still low, satisfied, “we broke it together.”

You snorted, too exhausted to argue.

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, still trying to catch your breath. “So, uh… what do we tell the front desk?”

Xavier smirked against your shoulder.

“That we need another bed.”

A pause.

Then, a wicked, dangerous glint in his eye—

“But I’ll just break that one too.”

<hr>

The room was wrecked.

The bed? Ruined. One of the legs had completely given out, the frame split, the mattress slumped at a questionable angle.

You were boneless, sprawled beneath Xavier, your body still thrumming from the absolute destruction he had just delivered. Your legs refused to function. Your lungs still hadn’t caught up.

But your brain?

Your brain had questions.

Like, for example, what the fuck just happened.

Xavier was still on you, his body warm, heavy in a way that wasn’t suffocating—just grounding. His breath was steady now, though his fingers were still absently tracing patterns into your skin, like he needed the tactile reminder that you were there.

And honestly? You liked it.

You let the silence linger for a moment, basking in the quiet hum of the heater, the faint flicker of snowfall outside the window. Then, finally, you swallowed, your voice hoarse, exhausted.

“So,” you murmured, shifting slightly beneath him, “where the hell did that come from?”

Xavier huffed a quiet laugh against your skin, but he didn’t move, his face still half-buried in the crook of your neck.

“You really don’t know?” His voice was lower now, quieter. Softer.

You blinked, tilting your head slightly to try and get a look at him. “I mean—no?”

Another beat of silence. Then, with an almost reluctant exhale, he lifted his head just enough to look at you, his sharp gaze now hazy, warm, fond.

“Because it’s you,” he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your breath caught.

Xavier didn’t look away.

“I’ve wanted this,” he admitted, voice quieter now, more vulnerable. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles over your ribs, his body still partially pressed against yours. “For longer than I should.”

Your heart stumbled over itself.

“Xavier—”

“You think I don’t notice?” He exhaled sharply, his thumb brushing over the curve of your hip. “The way you look at me? The way I look at you?” His voice dipped lower, his lips ghosting just barely over yours. “You think I don’t feel it every time we get too close?”

You swallowed hard. You knew what he meant. The tension had always been there, unspoken, buried beneath layers of professionalism, logic, denial.

You just hadn’t expected him to be the one to admit it first.

Xavier gave you a look, like he could see the gears turning in your head, and sighed, shaking his head. ��You’re ridiculous.”

You let out a breathless laugh, overwhelmed, dizzy. “I’m ridiculous? You’re the one who broke a bed over this.”

His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close.

“I did warn you.”

“You did not warn me.”

“Mm.” His fingers trailed up your side, light and soothing now, as if trying to calm the lingering tremors in your muscles. “Maybe not verbally.”

You groaned, letting your head fall back against the ruined mattress. “Unbelievable.”

Xavier smirked, then, without a word, rolled off of you, pulling you effortlessly with him so that you were half-sprawled over his chest instead of lying in the wreckage of the broken bed frame.

The shift was jarring—one minute, your body was still thrumming from being absolutely wrecked, and the next, you were being held.

And gently, at that.

It sent a different kind of warmth through your chest, slower, softer.

“…You okay?” he murmured, the rough edge of his voice smoothing into something almost tender.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question—by the quiet concern in it.

“Yeah,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “Just… processing.”

His arm tightened around you slightly, fingers dragging over the bare skin of your back in slow, absent motions. “Mm.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time, it was comfortable. Warm.

You shifted slightly, turning your head toward the window, where the snow was still falling outside, thick and slow under the golden glow of the streetlights.

Xavier followed your gaze, exhaling softly.

“…Storm’s still going,” he murmured.

You sighed. “Guess that means we’re still stuck here.”

A pause.

Then, very dryly—

“We should probably request another bed.”

You snorted, pressing your face into his chest to smother your laughter. “Yeah,” you muttered, muffled. “Probably.”

Xavier was quiet for a moment, his fingers still absently tracing over your spine. Then, his voice dipped lower—

“But I’m not sleeping in it.”

You froze.

Slowly, you lifted your head to look at him, your stomach flipping. “Oh?”

Xavier’s gaze was dark again, but not with hunger this time—something else, something warmer, something dangerous in an entirely different way.

“Mm.” His fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer. “Now that I have you here?” His lips brushed against your forehead, light, teasing. “You’re not sleeping anywhere else.”

Your breath caught.

“…Bossy,” you muttered, feeling your face heat up.

He hummed, his smirk pressing against your temple. “You like it.”

You rolled your eyes, but didn’t argue.

Instead, you settled against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet hum of warmth between you.

Outside, the snow continued to fall.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt completely, perfectly warm.

#love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace #lads xavier #lnds smut #lnds #lnds xavier #lads smut #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #and soon enough #shen xinghui #moongirlcleo

1K notes · View notes

goatgoesmbe · 3 months ago

Note

Y/N: Torturing König for information

König: Oh... that's quite nice

Y/N: Why can't anyone take me seriously. Fuck this, Ghost can deal with this

König: NO please- I can be normal about this!

Y/N: Can you.

König: ...no

Y/N: GHOST! COME HERE!

👀👀👀👀

Alright now, hear me out anon- i hope you don't mind me turning this to 3k words porn.

big thamks to my mommy-auntie (montie?) @ahobaka-trash for beta-reading

KonigxReader + GhostxReader

tw : edging, implied torture, hostage interrogation, blueballing, dead dove, free use interrogation, open ending

AO3

rated : E

word count : 3092

Ghost wasn't dumb. He knew exactly what was going on in that giant's head, ever since he saw you innocently beaming at them, gesturing at your catch, a hostage.

Konig was his name, a fucking colonel. No offense to you luv, but from how everyone glanced at each other, no one believed you could take down that hunk of a mountain.

But a hostage is a hostage.

"GHOST! COME HERE!" he heard you yell. After a nod from Price, he then stepped inside the interrogation room.

You were not assigned to interrogate him at first. But Konig is tight-lipped, barely flinching at any pain, and made no sound except when he demanded your presence.

Dark brown iris lazily trailed to their hostage, who was now shirtless- well except for the shirt on his head which they couldn't get off him. It was like the colonel simply let them do what they wanted, but put his foot down when they overstepped his boundaries. Like he was in charge instead of them.

Ghost took in the cuts and bruises. They definitely looked painful, unpleasant. But from what he heard when he stood behind the one-way mirror, the soft moans and heavy breathing, it seemed like it was doing the opposite.

bastard's fucked in the 'ead, the lieutenant thought.

The usual method of torture wouldn't work on him. Ghost needed to improvise.

He said nothing and simply stood behind you before leaning down to whisper in your ear "Do you trust me, luv?".

You looked back, big doe eyes blinked at him in confusion. That innocent look on your face always made him question how the fuck did you survive working alongside them all this time.

"Um.. yes-?" a gasp slipped out your lips before you could say more, gloved hand fisting your hair and tugging back towards him. You went rigid like a kitten held by the scruff.

"Yeah?" He asked again in a low purr, the other hand trailing up your torso to squeeze your tit.

You gasped again, staying still as your eyes immediately looked at the large mirror where you knew the others were watching. Expecting anyone to say something.

Silence

Like they were waiting for your greenlight. No interruption from your captain, nor the hostage. It was all up to you what's gonna happen next.

Silence, except for faint panting from the colonel tied up in front of you.

You nodded.

And instantly, your top was ripped off of you.

You didn't get enough time to react to it, your pants got yanked down, now pooling around your knees before slowly falling to your ankles.

"Y'gonna talk now?" Ghost asked, slipping into that persona he always used in this situation. Straight to the business and no-nonsense, nonchalant about his colleague who was now half naked in his grip.

You could see Konig's eyes darkened as his pupils dilated, his breathing was heavier than before. Then, his blown pupils glanced up at Ghost while he tilted his head as if he was taunting him.

The grip on your hair tightened and you were pushed forward just enough for Konig to lean in and tug your bra down with his teeth.

Your lips parted and you feel that clench. Mind and body against each other. You shouldn't be enjoying this, a voice in your head said, scolding you for getting your panties wet.

With your tits now exposed to the cold air of the interrogation room, your nipples perked invitingly. You held your breath when your hostage opened his mouth to have a taste, only for it to be denied when you got yanked back.

"Well?" Said a voice beside your ear, though it was directed at the man in front of you who stared unblinking at your lieutenant before trailing down to your breasts which were now being fondled by two gloved hands.

"..What do you want to know?" The colonel said, sounding serious for the first time since you've met him.

"You work for Makarov?" The question was growled at him, yet your body reacted with a shiver and you couldn't help but whimper. Red flushed your cheeks, your eyes once again darting to the mirror.

Konig simply hummed in response, and you couldn't really tell if that was a yes or a no. Ghost seemed to have the same thought since he pinched your nipples hard and pulled.

"Please-!" You yelped out a plea, not really knowing who it was directed to.

The cloth on the hostage's head shifted, he was licking his lips under the hood. "He is a client" he finally said. You let out a sigh of relief when Ghost loosened his hold but didn't let you go, massaging your breasts more softly as his fingers rubbed your nipples as an apology.

That was a big intel, Makarov is working together with Kortac. The colonel himself confirmed it, an enemy, not some unlucky passersby.

You tried your best to take all the information, you really did. But it was really hard with how your lieutenant fingers danced on the sensitive nubs.

"You were with ‘im?" Ghost asked. His voice is gruff yet steady compared to the colonel in front of you, like it's normal to use his coworker as an interrogation tool. To be honest, you are quite scared of what Ghost can do to you to make Konig talk.

And you're ashamed of yourself for how that fear brought heat to your core.

Konig didn't respond once again, a silent command for Ghost to do something. And you wondered who was really in charge here, definitely not you though.

Your train of thought was interrupted when a pair of strong arms hoisted you up, one leg raised until your knee was pressing against your chest while your other leg was left dangling. Despite the cotton panties covering your cunt, you still felt very exposed, being spread out in front of one of your enemies of all people.

A pathetic whine slipped out of your lips, which were swollen from you biting down on them previously. A thick finger rubbing between your folds through your panties. Slow yet firm, soaking the cotton even more.

"Were you with Makarov?" Ghost asked again, voice lowering an octave. Whether to intimidate or maybe he was just as affected by all this too.

"No" Konig responded shortly. His body shook slightly and you noticed how he tried to pull his hand out of the handcuffs behind the chair. Like he wanted to touch you, or maybe himself, from the obvious bulge in his pants.

You swallowed at the sight.

"D’you know where 'e is?" Your lieutenant asked as his finger kept rubbing you, trailing up to circle your clit through your panties which made you whine.

Konig stayed silent again. Like he didn’t want to interrupt the lewd voices you made as you slowly unraveled in your superior's hands.

Ghost clicked his tongue, feeling impatient but still played along with the game. His fingers trailed up to the waistband, trailing across the fabric slowly like he was taking his time appreciating the delicate panties before ripping it off and tossing it with your other torn garments.

Before you could have a chance to mourn the loss of your panties, two thick fingers rammed deep into your pussy. You could only squeal, throwing your head back against his shoulder. "Ah, ah, ah-" A gasping moan with each thrust aiming at your gspot.

"Where. is. Makarov?" Ghost growled, each word emphasized with a hard thrust that got you keening.

"Si- Ghost, please.." It took you a second to realize that was your own voice.

"Not up to me, sweet'eart" The lieutenant replied without taking his eyes off the hostage.

You panted, following his gaze to the colonel in front of you. His half-lidded eyes, pupils so wide with light blue outlining them, and if you focus past the wet squelching noises you can hear him breathing heavily.

"..Konig"

His whole body jerked at your plead. "Scheiße" You heard him hiss under his breath.

"I don't know, we only interacted through a third person or a call" He continued. With your mind all jumbled, you questioned for a second about who he was talking about, oh right Makarov, we're gathering intel on Makarov.

"Don’t even try lyin’" Ghost tutted and curled his fingers, pressing against that sweet spot that made you whine pathetically.

You heard Konig chuckle breathlessly. "Oh, i won't lie to this hübsche kleine schlampe. Don't want to break her heart" he shrugged.

Ghost held back from rolling his eyes and scoffed. "What’d 'e pay ya for, then?".

Expecting another silence, Ghost didn't wait for a response. Pushing you down on your knees before shoving your face onto the colonel's crotch. "Open" He whispered lowly in your ear, tilting your head just so, your lips pressing against the zipper on the hostage’s pants.

With your teeth, you tugged the zipper down. And your eyes widened when you saw his throbbing cock. You took in the veiny shaft, the pinkish tip glistening with precum under the dim lighting of the interrogation room. filthy git went full-on commando on his job.

"What’d 'e pay you to do?" Ghost asked once again as he pried your mouth open, a silent command for you to make good use it. Then you felt the colonel go rigid when you wrapped your lips around the tip.

"..Retrieving a package" The colonel answered as he tried to buck his hips, hoping to shove more of his dick into your mouth. You started to panic, you didn't know if you could take more. He was really big, too big. And that's something, since you've taken Ghost before.

"What's the package?" The lieutenant asked as he slowly pushed you down, forcing you to take more, not caring about your muffled noise.

You felt the tip nudging the back of your throat, your eyes tearing up and you whined around the girthy cock as Ghost kept urging you to keep going. This is how you're gonna die, choking on some enemy's dick.

"Verdammt- i don't know" You heard Konig say through gritted teeth when you felt your nose buried in a bush of hair, somehow managing to take all of him. Looking so pliant and pathetic, batting your wet eyelashes up at him, as you focused on remembering how to breathe.

Ghost jerked your head back, and forward, again and again. Fucking your throat with the colonel's dick, hard without mercy.

"Don't give me that bullshit" Growled the lieutenant. Though, he didn't expect a response, letting the hostage lose himself in the wetness of your mouth.

Before you were pulled back by your hair, letting go of the cock with a wet pop. And you heard Konig whimper, his cock twitched violently, robbed from his release.

It took a while for Konig to respond, trying to regain his control back from the pleasure, steadying his breathing before speaking. "I really don't know, they told me nothing, I asked nothing. We only care about finishing the job" He said. Though, you can see his eyes glint mischievously. He was keeping something from them and felt in control because of it. Taunting your lieutenant to give him more of you in exchange for that.

It seemed that Ghost thought of the same thing since he yanked you back up and forward. You thought he wanted you to sit on the colonel's lap and you were going to, but then he held your hip in one hand while the other still had a fistful of your hair.

Then he shifted you above Konig’s lap, until your pussy lips are rubbing against the tip of the colonel's cock. Taunting back.

"Try again" The lieutenant's voice rumbled. You didn't know if you imagined it but you could hear him smirk.

The colonel was holding back from bucking his hips. Not wanting to give in just yet so he could get more. Just a bit more. "As I said, I have no clue" He shrugged, the smugness in his voice is more obvious now.

Even though you had expected it, you still gasped. It was just the tip, but the stretch made you exhale shakily. Your legs trembled slightly, and you were sure without Ghost holding you up you would definitely fall onto the colonel's lap.

Konig sighed, whether it was in exasperation or pleasure you didn't know. Probably both.

"Missiles.. possibly nukes," The colonel said without being asked. "Overheard them talking about it, though my Russian is rusty so take it with a grain of salt" he continued.

Ghost hummed into your ear, gloved hand reaching down to toy with your sensitive clit. It was as if he was rewarding you for making the hostage give them such valuable intel.

Though, he didn't reward the man who gave the intel. Making him suffer by making you clench around his tip, not letting him sink even another millimeter of his dick inside you.

"Where are they stored?" The lieutenant asked, lips against your ear, hot breath making you squirm. There's an itch in your core, this was torture for you too.

"Stop movin’, princess, unless ya want me to stop 'ere" He whispered lowly so only you could hear it, stopping the circling motion on your clit to pinch so hard it almost hurt. It's too much, but also not enough. And now you're dripping down an enemy's dick like a slut.

"I can pinpoint the location on your map" Their hostage hissed, his voice was a bit shaky and those bright blue iris locked in at the spot you and him were connected. "Untie me" He added, his eyes now locked onto your lieutenant's.

Ghost scoffed condescendingly. "Ain’t 'appenin'" he said.

You heard the colonel let out a dry chuckle. "Worth a shot" he murmured to himself.

"Just shoot it" Ghost demanded whilst moving his fingers on your clit. Flicking with his thumb, sliding two fingers up and down whilst squeezing the sensitive nub between them, massaging the top agonizingly slow, making tiny circles.

"Go on, tell 'im, luv" Deep voice purred sultry into your ear and you cried out when he lifted the hood of your clit and roughly rubbed the exposed underside. You started shaking, your back painfully arching with the overwhelming pleasure. Too much.

"Konig.. Konig-" You pleaded pathetically, squeezing the head of his cock inside of you. More of your slick dripping down his shaft.

Konig groaned, both at the sinful sight and the way your sweet voice sang his name. "Why should I? I don’t need you slitting my throat once youget all the information" He sneered.

A gloved hand slapped your clit and you squealed. "Please, please-" You whined. Doe eyes all teary as you locked eyes with the hostage.

You could feel Konig jerk beneath you as your channel clenched uncontrollably around his tip.

"We won't" Ghost responded. "Be daft of us to get rid of a bloody colonel just for this shite, and you know it" He added.

Konig snorted in response but said nothing.

"So?" Your lieutenant asked once again, pushing for an answer.

"I assume you would keep me here to exchange for something with Kortac, it's rude to keep your guest tied, no?" Konig said mockingly, making Ghost narrow his eyes.

"You ain't no bloody guest" Ghost growled and pinched your clit again, tugging it painfully while his other hand pulled at your nipple in a similar way, making you go crossed-eyed. "Now, spit it out" The lieutenant added, his voice was booming compared to your little pleas "pleasepleaseplease".

The colonel sighed, like he took pity on you. "Abandoned hospital at the north" He finally said. And you could just kiss him for making Ghost let go of your sensitive nubs and rub them in a much gentler manner.

"Thought that was Al Qatala's base now" Ghost mumbled to himself, a bit too casually like he didn't just try to ruin you.

"Yeah, the Russian made a transaction with them," Konig said. Blue eyes trailing back to you, observing the state you were in.

"Now, I told you everything you need.." The colonel purred, eyes crinkling which made you think that he was smiling at you underneath the hood.

And with that, all hell let loose.

The lieutenant's hands on you started rubbing with the intention of making you come. He let go of your nipple and went south, tracing the rim of your entrance where you still have the head of the colonel's cock inside.

Your eyes widened when you felt his fingers slipping inside you again. Not caring that you were still stretched open.

Eyes crossed, toes curled. Panting and whining like a little puppy when you felt those fingers go deeper, rubbing your gspot at the same pace as his other hand on your clit.

Your thighs were trembling, your moans getting higher and higher as your climax threatened to wash over you. And then, Ghost didn't stop Konig from thrusting up this time and you lost it.

Wave after wave of pleasure, your cunt clenched uncontrollably around Konig, moaning like a whore.

Just when you wanted to grind down for more stimulation, Ghost lifted you by the back of your knees. Konig let out a string of curses in German, watching the way your pussy clenched desperately around nothing.

"..Simon" You whimpered, teary eyes looking up at him with a pout. You didn't have the capacity to care about saying his real name in front of an enemy after such orgasm. Looks like your usage for interrogations is finally over – and you are not sure whether you were useful or just looked pretty enough.

"Don't worry princess" He murmured, shifting his hold to lift you in a bridal carry. "You've been good, we'll reward you" And with that, he kissed your forehead. You didn't see the way his eyes shifted to the one-way mirror where the rest of the team had been watching from behind it.

You could only let him carry you out of the interrogation room, heavy steps from his boots filling the silence.

And Konig?

"Verdammte Hurensöhne!" Raspy voice boomed behind you before it was muffled as Ghost closed the door behind him. Not caring that the hostage still had his hard and throbbing cock out, wet from your slick and his own precum.

But of course, if you took pity on him and if you asked everyone nicely, maybe they would let him watch- or since the interrogation had been more than successful, he could join. Letting him enjoy their leftover, to fuck everyone’s cum deeper inside your cunt.

Just say the word.

...

taglist : @partiallysame, @niazrzl, @midwesternwitchery, @cupcake4440, @cupcake4440

#call of duty x reader #call of duty #simon ghost x reader #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod #mbe write #mbe's ghost #mbe's konig

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novthirty · 1 month ago

Text

OUT OF BOUNDS | you get isekai-d into the N109 zone

— pairing: sylus x non-mc! reader

— synopsis: you land in the world of love and deepspace. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of his personal secretary. wc: 3.8k

— tags: isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, pining, slice of life, birthdays, holiday season, reader is not the main character, boss/employee relationship

— a/n: i'm thinking of making a part 2, but also thinking of making it into a full-fledged fic,,, let me know if you’re interested! but for now, i’ll be working on another, more angsty non-mc fic for sylus’s bday 👀 hope you enjoy! 💕💕edit: i’ve since turned this into a multi-chapter fic! this will continue to function as a standalone one-shot, but you can find the series here.

ao3 | masterlist | requests are open!

It was just your luck to be walking home from a 7PM class on a desolate road, only for a vehicle to swerve and crash into you. The impact is like a sledgehammer to your body as you hear the crunch of glass and the snap of bones. This is it, you think, as the world around you blurs into nothingness.

—————————————————————

You wake up in a hospital bed, where you promptly have a panic attack from the IV attached to your arm. You desperately thrash against the nurses’ hold, trying to remove the intrusive line from your body, but it’s no use as your injuries and the numerous drugs hamper your movements. You hear muffled explanations— inaudible to your clouded mind— before they decide to sedate you. You drift back to sleep.

Sometime later, you wake up again, this time with the IV detached and a familiar face sitting by your bedside. You laugh, thinking you must be in some sort of dream or coma-induced hallucination. Because why was Sylus, a love interest from Love and Deepspace— the game you’ve been obsessed with for the past few months— sitting beside you? You say as much, and the only response he deigns you with is, “Did you sustain brain damage on top of your other injuries?”

You shake your head at the absurdity of your delusions, quickly falling back into a medically-induced sleep. Things should be back to normal when you wake up.

—————————————————————

Newsflash: they weren’t. Days passed, and you gradually had to accept that whether it was reality or not, you were gonna be stuck here until you figured out how to go back to the normal world. Sylus visits you from time to time, the strange girl who landed in his backyard and claims to be from another world. It turns out that the place you’ve woken up in is not a hospital, but Onychinus’s medical ward.

When you’ve healed enough to be discharged, you have nowhere to go. So you turn to the only person you’re familiar with in this world.

You had been a college student, just months away from graduation before you found yourself here. It fills you with spite, how everything you’d worked hard for was taken away in the blink of an eye. But you push the bitterness aside, offering whatever skills you have to Sylus so he doesn’t kick you out. You know that this world isn’t kind, the N109 Zone one of the worst places you could have ended up. A normal civilian such as you wouldn’t survive here alone. Though you don’t have much to contribute to a criminal organization, you’re grateful when Sylus offers you the job of his personal assistant.

Although you don’t have much work experience, your previous internships and methodical nature help you to excel at this job. Never has the leader of Onychinus been so…. organized, his colleagues around him observe the stark change in the following months. You whip him up to shape, scolding him when he arrives late to meetings, making sure he actually calls back when he says he will. His business partners now call his office to be greeted by a chirpy voice, “How may I help you? Oh, Sylus isn’t here right now. Would you like to leave a message?”

He had initially given you this job as more of a placeholder role, so you can occupy yourself with the illusion of real responsibility while he investigates his suspicions about you. Where did you come from? Who sent you? And most importantly, how did you manage to infiltrate his base right under his nose? But his investigation leads him to the simple truth: there was nothing on you. It’s as if you materialized from thin air. No records, no blood ties, no evidence of your existence before you walked into his life.

But if reincarnation can be fact, and dragons more than legends, why deny the possibility of other realities? This, more than anything, makes him inclined to believe your claims.

Besides, you’ve proven yourself to be… useful, he supposes. Although the fear he instilled in his business partners was enough to put them in their place, he now had you to act as a buffer to their complaints and concerns, handling matters that were beneath him. You easily adjust to his nocturnal schedule; you’re like a little crow chirping at his shoulder at all times of the day, reminding him to leave on time for meetings, to eat three meals each day (even going so far as to ask his preferred meals to inform the chefs in advance). You physically force him out of his office the moment noon hits in an attempt to prevent him from overworking, “Sun’s up, boss. It’s time to hit the sack.”

Your office is connected to his, although it's less a room and more an alcove he cleared away when he gave you the job. You have a small desk, a fluffy pink swivel chair, and a shelf covered in the trinkets you spend your salary on. (Another thing you have in common with Mephisto, he notes to the ever-growing list.) He finds amusement to idly watch you during his downtime, twirling the strands of your hair and chewing your pen as you talk on the phone about weapons shipments and insuring someone who lost a finger in an operation.

Contradictory to his initial expectations, you prove yourself in a professional capacity and cement your place in the ranks of Onychinus.

—————————————————————

The first surprise is truly when the clock strikes twelve on April 18, and he enters his office to find a cake on his desk. Decorated in black and maroon frosting, it’s topped with his name in crooked cursive and a crow-shaped candle to boot. Moments after, you stride in from behind with Luke and Kieran, all carrying gifts and wearing patterned party hats, singing a terribly off-key rendition of the birthday song.

“Happy birthday, Sylus! Make a wish!”

He blows the candles (and wishes for the only thing he truly desires).

“Do you like the cake? The chefs helped me decorate it!” You say as you slice it into even triangles, giving him the largest one. Mephisto is perched on your shoulder, with his own red party hat, as you feed him small bites of your own slice. (The resemblances between the two of you are truly uncanny). The celebration is a silly endeavor that lasts no more than an hour before he kicks everyone out of his office. But try as he might, he can’t wipe the grin off his face for the rest of the day.

When May comes, you rope him into the preparations for Luke and Kieran’s birthday. Due to your incessant nagging, he’s since discovered your shared digital calendar— complete with monthly, weekly, daily, and hourly agendas— and chosen to ignore it. “The calendar exists for you to be on time,” You seethe whenever he steps into his office late, the little shit smirking as if you didn’t just rearrange his schedule to hell and back for that one hour-long meeting he missed. However, that doesn’t mean he’s exempt from any festivities you force upon the household.

The twins’ celebration is a significantly more chaotic affair than his, involving a two tiered cake and a booking for a laser tag arena, and ending with a trip to the medical ward. Despite the casualties, it’s the most fun Luke and Kieran have had since they joined Onychinus. (Fun that wasn’t self-orchestrated, at least).

Your presence brings a liveliness to his found family, something that grounds you all in this high-paced line of work. A presence that, little by little, seeps into his life to the point he can no longer imagine living without it.

—————————————————————

When he finds you on a cold midnight in November, sitting alone on the kitchen island with a puny cupcake and a candle, he asks you what the hell you think you are doing.

“Well, it’s just a birthday. I didn't feel the need to have a lot of celebration this year." The answer is nowhere enough to appease him, especially given your grandiose efforts to celebrate literally everyone else’s birthday. So, you admit to him, “I felt a bit sad, I guess. This was my last year of college. I had so many plans for before my entry into the workforce… and now, I can't really do any of them.”

Without missing a beat, he asks, “And what were those plans?”

You list off the various places you wanted to visit, the items you were supposed to cross from your bucket list this year. As you reminisce on old plans, you split the cupcake with him and bid him goodnight, returning to your office to catch up on work.

When you wake up at 5 PM later that day, it’s to streamers and balloons in the living room.

“Happy birthday!” Everyone in the house cheers as you enter the room, decked out in all sorts of party favors. Even Sylus, who was notoriously un-festive, is wearing a cone-shaped party hat striped with your favorite colors.

What follows is an impromptu day-off for everyone in the base (you feel an oncoming migraine thinking of how you’re going to readjust Sylus’s schedule). They bring you to Linkon City, your first time visiting since your arrival, following an itinerary that matches your original plans to a T.

Sylus is upset that you’ve kept the date to yourself for so long, but more than that, he’s angry at himself for not bothering to ask. So he does his best to make up for it in the final hours of your birthday. Throughout the evening, he drags you to every activity that had been on your wishlist, lavishing you with all sorts of presents on the way. It’s a little too much. You’re not used to being spoiled, not used to treating yourself without deserving it first, and you tell him as much.

He tips your chin upwards with a feather-light touch, his gaze unreadable as he asks, “And who says my lovely secretary doesn’t deserve the world at her feet?”

The atmosphere shifts, the effortless ease at which you interact with him dissipates into stutters and heated stares. You ride home on the back of his motorcycle, finding yourself flushing despite the winter chill in the air. It’s a comfortable silence, yet your heart is thumping loudly against your chest. Does he hear how he makes you feel? You wonder.

Before he retires to his bedroom, you place a soft kiss against his cheek. “Thank you for today,” you whisper before shutting the door behind you.

—————————————————————

From then on, things are significantly more… tense, between the two of you. What were once casual interactions turn tense with every brush of your fingers, with every meeting of your eyes across the room. He's always lavished you with the sweetest of pet names; darling, little bird, sweet girl. You assume it’s just his speech pattern, given what you had known of him from the game. But why does it make your heart race every time he refers to you with such terms of endearment? Why does it fuel your delusions of having something more?

—————————————————————

It comes to a head during the week of Christmas, where you once again strong-arm him into having your festive way at the Onychinus base.

You were appalled at their lack of holiday spirit for the previous years, “How can you run an organization like this?!” So you drag your boss out to the nearest Christmas tree farm. “You’re rich enough to afford a real one,” You decide definitively. He rolls his eyes but drives you there anyway.

Each night on the week before Christmas goes similarly. The moment your work is done for the evening, you drag the whole house into some sort of festive activity. Decorating the tree, baking a gingerbread house, making eggnog. Holiday tunes fill the Onychinus base 24/7 and for once, Sylus finds that he doesn’t mind. Not when he sees the way you dance to yourself when you think no one’s looking, the way you know the words by heart and hum them under your breath. But he doesn’t participate much, mostly checking in and making a sardonic yet supportive comment before returning to his work.

One evening, he decides to bring his work to the living room while you’re setting up the tree. It was a great source of amusement to see you struggle on your toes to place the ornaments, hoisting yourself up on whatever surface was available to you. But even he found it a bit too pitiful to watch you struggle to place the star, too vertically challenged to place the finishing touch. Couldn’t you just get a ladder? “Let me help you,” His breath tickles your ear as he grabs your waist and lifts you up.

You squeal, holding tight to his arms and kicking at the air beneath you, “Sylus, what the fuck! Put me down!”

“Place the star, darling. While I'm still being nice.” In the end, you call it a team effort, despite his only contribution being his role as a human ladder.

—————————————————————

You’ve been very festive and cheery the whole week of Christmas, so it disturbs him when the eve of the 25th arrives and you’re downtrodden. A shell of your typical self. He's never seen you like this before— absentminded and listless, it takes you a whole minute to realize he’s calling your name for the grand Christmas dinner you had insisted upon. You open presents with everyone in the early morning, smiling and thanking at the right cues, but he can tell your heart’s not in it.

After the gifts have been given and the wrapping paper cleaned up, he takes you to the rooftop to ask what’s wrong.

And so, you bare your heart to the only person who holds enough of it to break it.

It’s a bittersweet Christmas for you, the first one you’ve ever spent away from home. For the first time since you were whisked away to this surreal world, you speak of your original life. Your family. Your friends. Your dreams. A fragile boundary that you haven’t touched with anyone here, for it hurts too much to speak of what you left behind. Of what was taken away from you.

And it is here, underneath the midnight sky where he tells you of his search for the other half of his soul. He speaks of a similar homesickness, resonating with how out of reach home feels for you right now, as he’s waited what seems like a millennia for the person he calls his.

You already know, of course, that sooner or later, he will meet her. This world was once your favorite game, and you had shed tears at their loss, at their cursed fate. You stay silent, listening to the tragic tale from the man himself. The affection in his tone as he speaks of her— his sorceress, his soulmate— makes you hurt for this man, for the trials he’s endured in the name of true love. But it is also a bitter reminder that you have no place by his side.

—————————————————————

On New Year’s Eve, he doesn’t even give you the chance to feel homesick. The moment the sun goes down, he takes you on a joyride to Linkon City, bringing you to a cafe to have dinner together and sightsee the various festivities for the holiday; making sure you don’t even have a moment to feel sad.

He brings you to the tallest building in the city, for the best view of the sky when the fireworks show starts. Despite the chilly air, his hand is warm in yours, clutching it in a tight grip as he wades through the crowd of people who had the same idea. You find a secluded corner where the two of you sit down and sip your milk tea, talking about your new year’s resolutions.

“I don’t do resolutions,” He waved a hand, unimpressed. “If I want to change an aspect of my life, I won't wait until the start of a new year to do so.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” You stick your tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes, but he’s internally pleased with how well he’s distracted you thus far. “My resolutions are always the same. Exercise more, eat healthy, and save money!”

“Dear, there is a private gym back home that you haven’t touched even once,” Your heart flutters at the word home. A word that brings you melancholy most of the time, but now fills your heart with a sort of domestic bliss.

“Well then, it’s perfect! I'll have no excuse not to start tomorrow.”

He shakes his head in fond exasperation. Your eyes are glued to the magnificent colors soaring through the sky, legs bouncing in time with the countdown. But unbeknownst to you, his gaze is entirely on you.

When the clock strikes midnight, you jump to give him a hug. “Happy New Year, Sylus!”

He cradles you in his arms, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, “Happy New Year.”

—————————————————————

As the months pass by, you grow more accustomed to the harsh edges of your new job. It's not exactly the first job you had envisioned for yourself; you had once hoped to start somewhere more in line with your aspiring career, somewhere you could make use of your degree. But plans don’t always work out. What you do is unorthodox, but it’s fulfilling and allows you to live in this dangerous world from a safe vantage point, almost like dipping your toes into a ten feet pool.

That doesn’t mean you’re completely sheltered from all the dangers of the job, however. Given the type of clientele you handle, more often than not, you’re faced with threats of being maimed over the phone when you can’t give somebody what they want. Each time, Sylus promptly takes over and matches their energy twicefold with a more heinous, yet very real threat.

The worst days are post-missions, when you have to witness your newfound family return bloody and bruised in the name of Onychinus. You become conditioned to waiting with a first aid kit and a change of clothes for Luke and Kieran, immediately patching up their wounds. But Sylus— you almost think he’s invincible, with how he returns from even the most high-risk operations without a scratch.

That is, until one night when he walks through the front door, leaving a bloody trail in his wake. His evol is working overtime to knit his skin back together, but the blood still pools beneath him on the marble tile. You stay by his side through the night as he recovers, listening to deluded murmurs about a time long past, and an ever-so-familiar name.

You grip his hand in yours throughout the night. But it’s not your hand to hold.

—————————————————————

Over the span of a year, you become one of Sylus’s closest confidants. He treats you with all the gentleness and care in the world, revealing to you a softer side of him that you knew existed in the game, but that he rarely ever showed to anyone else. You feel honored that he trusts you with these facets of himself, but you also feel guilty.

Because what Sylus doesn’t know is that he was your favorite. You, a student facing burnout in your final year of university, began to cope with a game suggested to you, subsequently becoming engrossed with one of its newest characters. His soft treatment of the main character, juxtaposed with his violent nature, had drawn you to him. Your heart had fluttered at every tender moment, each call and text message, each appearance in the main story. You had foolishly indulged in the delusions of romance with a fictional man.

When you landed in this world, there was a cognitive dissonance as you came to terms with the difference between the 2D character that lived on your phone screen and the living, breathing person in front of you. For a while, you were too focused on your new situation to even think of the implications of the fictional character you’d been crushing on being in close, real proximity. He had not trusted you, either. You could practically visualize his defenses in each interaction, as he contemplated what to make of you.

At the time, you thought that by now, surely you would have woken up from this coma-induced hallucination already. Surely you would have woken back up to reality. But as you grow to accept that the situation you’re in is real, and the likelihood that you may be stuck there for the foreseeable future— before you knew it, he had crept into your heart.

You don’t know when it started. All you know is that his presence in your life is more than the surface-level distraction it once was in your reality. No, Sylus— the living person who comforted you on the saddest birthday you’ve had, who indulged your demands for a Christmas celebration, who makes your heart race like no other— has you wrapped around his finger. He could ask anything of you, and your heart could do nothing but surrender to his whims.

But in the back of your head, always lurking, is the distant reminder of the main character. The vivacious hunter whose life is tied to his. The other half of his soul. There’s no chance you could ever come between something destined by the universe itself, so you yield in the face of their cosmic love. You shove away your feelings and resign yourself to finding a way back home, desperately, before this world forces you to lose a love you never had a chance at.

—————————————————————

What you don’t know is that he’s desperately blocking off every potential lead back to your world, not wanting to face a reality where you are not in his life.

He finds himself conflicted, because his soul is tied to her. His sorcerer, his soulmate, whom he has yearned for for what feels like a millenia. But here you are, his lovely secretary, the woman who forces him into mundane festivities and stays by his side even in weakness. The two images war in his head; the dragon roaring at how distracted he’s become from searching for his mate, and the man, falling fast and hard for a woman from another world, brought to him by pure fate. A love born out of an unexpected connection.

His search for his long-lost love continues, but alongside it are his attempts to tie you down to his world, to keep you in his grasp. Because he cannot, will not, live without you.

He will watch the world burn before he lets it take his love away again.

—————————————————————

So, the two of you continue in this cycle of push and pull, of moving closer but not close enough. You live in a limbo, desperately searching for ways to get home before the main storyline catches up to you. Haunted by the narrative, you two move in and out of each other’s orbit, just out of reach. Just out of bounds.

—————————————————————

like and reblog if you enjoyed!

i’ve since turned this into a multi-chapter fic! this will continue to function as a standalone one-shot, but you can find the series here (comment there if you’d like to be tagged!)

#novthirty-writes #love and deepspace #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x non mc #sylus #qin che #lnds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x non mc reader

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freezerbrldes · 4 months ago

Text

no nut november - s.r.

PAIRING. Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY. Spencer is confident he can win a bet against Morgan… what he didn’t account for was having to share a room with you…

WARNINGS. smut, brief mention of male masturbation, unprotected sex, breeding kink if you squint

AUTHOR’S NOTE. It’s been awhile since I’ve actually written something and it’s also the first time I’ve ever written smut so hopefully this turned out okay. This is based on one of the bots I’ve made on character.ai/spicychat. I know it’s January but let’s pretend I posted this in November.

wc: 2.1k

credit to @cafekitsune for dividers

also on ao3

Spencer was beginning to regret agreeing to this bet. He thought it’d be easy, but after 3 and a half weeks, he felt so frustrated he could passed out from just the slightest touch.

Him and Morgan made a bet. Morgan was positive that Spencer wouldn’t be able to survive No Nut November. Spencer was not the competitive type, but he definitely wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to prove Morgan wrong.

Spencer is no stranger to getting himself off every so often. While he may be a genius with a high IQ, he is still a man with needs. He isn’t into hook up culture— he’s too much of a germaphobe for that. His right hand became his closest companion when alone after a stressful case.

The first week wasn’t bad at all. He began to think he might actually make it, but once the second and third week hit, that’s when thoughts about you were constantly on his mind…

Spencer has always found you attractive— like really attractive. So attractive that he often finds himself thinking about you while he pleasures himself late at night. He doesn’t want to think about you this way, but his mind always wanders to thoughts of you underneath him.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, you were sharing a hotel room with Spencer during the new case. He tries to distract himself with a book as you lay on your bed in an oversized tshirt and very short shorts.

You are reading over some case files, looking for any connections between the last two victims. Spencer could feel his pants get tighter at the mere thought of you just a few feet away from him.

You must’ve notice he has been particularly quiet today, because the sound of shuffling paper pulls his attention away from his book.

“Are you okay? you’ve been acting weird for the last week,” You ask, rolling over onto your side to look at him on the other bed.

“I-I’m fine, the cases have just been very, uh— draining — recently,” Spencer lies, shifting awkwardly on the bed to hide the evidence of his arousal.

“Right,” you chuckle, not buying his excuse. You walk over to his bed and sit across from him, the mattress dipping slightly under your weight. “C’mon Spence, what’s really bothering you?”

Spencer feels his heart rate increase. He fidgets with the hem of his sweater vest, avoiding direct eye contact.

"I...I'm just tired, okay? These cases take a toll on me," he says, trying to maintain a calm tone despite the growing tension between you.

His gaze drifts to your legs, which were crossed and showcased more of that smooth skin he'd been fantasizing about. He quickly looks away, focusing on the stack of psychology journals on his nightstand instead.

"Look,” Spencer sighs, “I appreciate you checking in, but I promise I’m fine. The sooner we crack this case, the sooner we can head back to Quantico."

Despite his words, Spencer found himself leaning slightly towards you, drawn in by your presence.

He feels his resolve weakening as your warm presence drew closer. Your scent fills his nostrils— a tantalizing mix of vanilla and something uniquely you. It stirs feelings within him he hadn't acknowledged before.

"I know you're just trying to help, but please, let me handle this," he pleads, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn't meet your eyes, fearing the intensity he knew would be there.

A bead of sweat trickles down the side of his face as he recalls the countless nights spent pleasuring himself, always picturing your body in his mind, but now you’re inches away from him.

“Spencer,” you say, pulling his attention away from his wandering mind. “You’re one of my best friends, I can tell there is something else bothering you other than this case. Please— let me help you.”

Spencer's chest tightens at the word "friend". Despite the strong attraction he harbors for you, he had never allowed himself to hope for anything more. You deserve someone better, someone who could give you the love and affection you craved.

Spencer brain scrambles to come up with another excuse, as he gazes into your empathetic eyes, he finally caved.

"Okay, fine, There is something I've been struggling with," he admits, his voice barely audible. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I made this stupid bet with Morgan, I’m supposed to go the entire month of November without having sex or masturbating. At first, it was easy but now, being in the same room as you, I’m having a hard time controlling my thoughts.”

Spencer closes his eyes, bracing himself for your reaction. He opens them again when he didn’t hear you laughing and making fun of him.

Relief washes over him as he saw an understanding expression rather than disgust. He swallows hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

"You're not mad?" he ask, his voice laced with vulnerability. In that moment, Spencer felt like he could finally exhale, like a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Of course not,” you reply, “why would I be mad?”

"Well, because even if I wasn't doing this bet, I still...I still think about you," he confesses, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

"I know it's wrong, but I can't help how I feel. You're amazing. You’re smart, funny, beautiful..." Spencer’s words trailed off as he realizes where they were headed.

"I shouldn't say these things, but I can't keep pretending anymore." Spencer closes the space in between the two of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

After what felt like an eternity, His lips finally met yours in a passionate kiss.

Spencer felt a rush of emotions overwhelm him— excitement, nervousness, joy, and most of all, relief. This was what he had secretly longed for— dreamed about in the dark of night, and now it was finally happening.

His arms wrap around yours instinctively, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His tongue dances with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth with a hunger he hadn't known he possessed.

When you finally broke apart for air, Spencer's breathing was ragged. He gazes into your eyes, seeing the same desire reflected back at him.

"You know, um, we should probably talk about this— about us," he adds, his voice barely above a whisper.

“How about we talk about it after?” you chuckle, your lips meeting his in another steamy kiss.

Spencer melts into the kiss, his body responding eagerly to your touch. He knew they needed to discuss the their growing feelings, but right now all he wanted was to lose himself in your touch.

Spencer's hands roams over your curves, mapping your body through your clothes. Breaking the kiss again, Spencer looked at you with a mix of adoration and longing.

"I want you,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. "More than I've ever wanted anyone."

His lips trail from yours down your neck before reaching the hem of your tshirt, pulling it out of the way to plant kisses onto your collar bone. Spencer sucks on the sensitive skin before pulling the shirt over your head, carelessly tossing it onto the motel floor.

He kisses a path up your throat, pausing to nibble on your earlobe before pulling away just enough to admire the view. His gaze drank in the sight, the air thick with tension.

"You're stunning," he breathes, reaching out to trace the curve of your bare breast.

You moan softly as he gently caresses your body. Spencer dips his head to capture a nipple between his lips, sucking gently as his hand cups and kneads the other.

Spencer groans into your breast, the sound muffled by your soft flesh. He suckled harder, his thumb pinching and teasing the neglected nipple.

His other hand slides down your side before dipping lower to brush against the waistband of your shorts. He could feel heat emanating from your core, fueling his growing arousal.

He pushed the fabric of your panties aside to slip a finger along your slick folds as his mouth returned to your neck.

“You’re so wet already, is this all for me?” Spencer sighed, nibbling at your earlobe.

Before you could even respond, you moan loudly as he pushes a digit inside you, groaning at the tight clench of your walls.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," Spencer gasped, pumping his finger slowly in and out of you.

He adds a second finger, scissoring them gently to stretch you open, leaning back slightly to watch your face contort in pleasure.

Spencer watched intently as your body arches off the bed to meet his thrusting fingers. He curls them inside you, rubbing against that sweet spot that made your legs quiver.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he picked up the pace, driving his fingers deeper.

His own arousal grew unbearable, it demands attention. With a growl, Spencer broke the kiss and hastily removed his clothes, throwing them in a pile with your discarded tshirt as you whimper at the loss of contact.

“I need to be inside you,” He pants as the last of his clothing is removed. He makes quick work of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.

Spencer's hazel eyes are dark with lust as he positions himself between your thighs, the tip of his cock nudges against your entrance.

With a deep breath, he pushes forward, sinking inch by inch into your welcoming heat. A low groan rumbles in his chest at the feeling of your tight walls hugging his length.

Once fully sheathed, Spencer pauses, his forehead resting against yours as he savors the moment.

“God, you're perfect," he whispers, then begins to move, setting a slow, deliberate rhythm.

You moan loudly as he begins to pick up the pace, your nails leaving crescent moons on his shoulders.

“Please don’t stop, you feel so good inside me,” you beg.

Spencer's grip on your hips tightens as he pounds into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him.

His fingers tug your hair lightly as he angles his thrusts to hit that spongy spot deep inside you over and over again.

"Shit, you feel so fucking amazing, so wet and tight," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. “I'm going to cum so hard inside you."

One of your hands move from his shoulder down to where your bodies connect, rubbing hard circles over your throbbing clit.

Spencer's thrusts falter as he feels your fingers working on your sensitive nub. The sight pushes him even closer to the edge.

"Oh god, yes! You’re so fucking hot!" he cries out, his hips snapping against yours with renewed vigor.

He reaches down and replaces your hand with his own, rubbing harsh circles as he chases his high.

“Fuck yes, I'm gonna..." Spencer's words trail off into a guttural moan as his orgasm crashes over him, his cock pulsing and twitching inside you as he fills you up. The feeling pushes you over the edge with him.

Spencer collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he tries to catch his breath. His heart pounds wildly in his chest, still racing from the intensity of his orgasm.

After a moment, he lifts his head to look at you, his usually bright hazel eyes now heavy-lidded.

“That was...incredible," he murmurs, a soft smile playing on his lips, he places a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose.

He slowly pulls out of you and rolls onto his side, he reaches out to brush a strand of dampened hair from your forehead. You both lay in silence as your breathing returned to normal.

“Well,” you break the silence with a smug grin, “it would appear you have failed No Nut November,”

“Yeah, but it was worth it,” Spencer chuckles, his thumb rubbing circles onto your flushed cheek. “I’m starting to think you and Morgan set me up.”

“You really think I seduced you to help Morgan win a bet?” You laugh in disbelief.

“I mean, that would be a very Morgan thing for him to do,” Spencer says, his hand now caressing your arm, “That man always plays dirty.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I saw Morgan flirting with one of the motel staff, she left his room about two hours ago, so I’m sure you probably did beat him.”

“Of course he did, Morgan can’t go 5 minutes without sleeping with someone,” Spencer laughs as he pulls you into his arms.

You lay like that for a while before both of you drift off into a deep sleep, excited to see what the future holds for you two.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds smut

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