#speaking of the prisoner. what the fuck is going on with him. i need to study him under a microscope

[esteemed-excellency]

ok i'm almost done with the new firmament chapter, i have So Many thoughts 👀

[lpsgirl109]

Suddenly obsessed with the idea of FA Harry Osborn villain arc featuring Bruno looking at the Avengers and going oh my god what did you do to piss this guy off

[moe-broey]

The Maine shooter has been found dead, btw. In case anyone was wondering.

[schizononagesimus]

being in a family of other addicts is weird, i never really thought of it like that but us all being in town together for my graduation has just been like (ENABLES U) (ENABLES U) (ENABLES U)

[the-acid-pear]

Something I adore about T-Bag is how subtle but consistent his character development is because as the seasons go on and he spends more time out of the jail (or, in other, worse jails) the more of his worst traits and beliefs he kinda let's go. Which is what makes me passionate about him he really has it in him to improve, to change. By the intro of season 5 he was literally just living alone in a swamp or something and didn't even want anything to do with Michael.

Like it's not that it happens from morning to noon it's just that there's less and less opportunities for him to repeat his problems to the point he just stops doing it altogether willingly it's just really neat. I just enjoy it.

[cosycafune]

RELENTLESS CONQUEROR

1.5k words. you’re not supposed to give in; that’s your first mistake. confessing to a man that’s notorious for deals is only going to screw you over. but, having him between your thighs, ruining you, makes you forget about sylus’ nature.

acts: multiple creampies, slight choking, rough sex, teasing, corruption kink, breeding kink, crying, orgasms, missionary, light sadistic tendencies, pet names, overstimulation, size difference, big cock, hickeys and potentially more.

a/n: there's only so much I can write for him. I love him.

RUINED, that’s what you are. The moment you revealed your love for Sylus, he couldn’t help but grasp you – sexually reforming you. As a confession fleed from your lips, his usually stoic demeanour faltered. Faltered with cockiness that you knew would be your demise.

Perhaps that was why you’re here right now? Pulverised, stuffed immensely with his colossal cock? Tears streamed from your wavering eyes, paving you into gasping, moaning and writhing as he thrusts inhumanely within you. All forms of coherency fled from you, leaving you a trembling, jolting mess – mushy at Sylus’ precise cock ruining.

Your gummy walls engulf him, completely overwhelmed and claimed. Tears stream down your cheeks while Sylus cloudily meets your eyes, taking you in missionary. To him, he had to memorise you in your rawest form. Rawest form as your large breasts bounce, your pursed lips stammer crazily, and your throat bubbling with his name.

“Sylus! Ah!” You hazily moan, barely capable of holding his sculpted back – lazily attempting to clutch the ridges of Sylus’ abs.

“Fuck! Say… you love me, Sweetie,” Authoritatively pleading, Sylus’ carmineeyes admire your prisoned self — fuelled by lustful adrenaline.

“Ngh! I-I…love you, Sy’,” Moaning, whining obediently, you arch abnormally – completely conquered by Sylus’ cock thrusting its deepest within you.

“A-Again,” Cloudily commanding you, Sylus picks up his extremely swift pace – in love with the addictive warmth that flows from your needy cunt.

“Yes! I…Ah! Love…you,” Flustered, you're barely able to speak – mentally consumed by Sylus grunting within your ear.

“Look at…you, sweetie,” So close to crumbling, you grow extremely close to finishing – longing for Sylus to inform you that he loves you.

Positioned upon his ample, seclusive bed, you glimpse into his eyes. A whisper of vulnerability holds them, leading to you guiding your trembling hand to settle upon his cheek. Even as your small hand is entwined with his own, his toned hips primal, marking you with his fruitful cock, Sylus listened to every essence of you.

It’s as if he preyed on your vulnerability, posing himself to watch your crumbled expressions worship his cock. With each lick of sweat upon you, each gasp, moan and plead for more, you knew Sylus basked within it. No, you knew he had estimated how long it’d take for you to break your intimate barriers for him. Innately, guided by fate, you knew he was mentally intrigued by how swiftly you admitted your love. Admitted your love to be beneath him, overpowered by his veiny cock, consistently cumming and faltering.

“‘Need…more,” Pleading, moulded to accommodate Sylus eternally, you grow obedient.

The obedience you display sculpts Sylus into a hazardous state, boyishly grinning before he maintains intense eye contact. Wealthy with your clinginess, Sylus increases the skin slapping in the room, watching your eyes impossibly roll back, your brain mushed at how stupidly good he fucked you. Sylus is proud and consumed by how someone as stubborn and naive as you handle him. Handle his devilish cock, going an unstable amount of sexual rounds. 

Seeing you, someone promoted as untouchable, detesting his presence, sexually succumbing to him – begging – heightened Sylus’ ego. Taunting you, he can’t help but stop his addicted cock – looking down at the ego-shattering mess of you. If you knew what you looked like, pouty, messy, flaunting glassy eyes for him, he knew you’d be unable to redeem yourself.

“S-So…near,” Breathless, you choppily hurl your pointless words, “D-Don’t…stop.” Clenching drastically around Sylus’ cock, you lovingly press your lips against his own – listening to his air-less breaths.

“When you…kiss me like that.” Lulled by you, Sylus is incapable of resisting – relishing the intimate warmth your kiss promotes.

Sombrely, you both had kissed in disadvantaged circumstances. Obstacles engulfed you both each time. So, sacrificing your honour, and giving Sylus genuine affection, warmed him immensely. Having you, knowing you were once discontent with him, flares Sylus’ primal instincts. A surge of desperation writes his fate, paving him into gifting you a deep thrust – greeting the sexual spots you love heavily.

“I…love you,” Subconsciously speaking, you gasp with each thrust – revealing each mental card you hold. Your poker face had crumpled, leaving behind your purest love for Sylus.

“Mhm,” Sylus mutters, feeling you frantically clench around him – unable to compose yourself. You’re so close to faltering, cumming all over his pulsating cock – but your subconsciousness wants to hear him return your words.

“Do…you?” Teary, faintly questioning Sylus, you greet his rolling eyes – noticing his firmness increasing within you.

“Hm–” As Sylus readies himself to speak, you mewl, too overwhelmed by the macaroni-imitating sounds, the wicked skin slapping and the emotion-heavy atmosphere.

Breathing heavily beneath him, attempting to pry Sylus away, so close to finishing, you sink further into the bedsheets. Spewing tears, your eyes close, your lips draw apart further and your back arches. Even caged, presented with limited freedom, you impulsively gather might. Using your might, you claw at Sylus’ back, your dainty hands barely covering the surface of his manly back.

“Ah! Sylus!” Freeing yourself, you clamp around his pulsating cock – finishing intensely. Your willpower shredded itself, surrendering you to Sylus entirely.

“Finished?” Teasing you, Sylus sharpens his pounding – decimating your overstimulated pussy. Even as your adorable cum decorates his manly cock, he can’t help but continue – bounded by the feeling of you.

“G-Good,” Mentally misplaced, you respond to his fuzzy voice – noticing the Sylus’ eager bucking.

To you, you could sense he longed for more. Each one of his thrusts was becoming a little sloppy, paired with his heavy breathing. Sylus is dripping with sweat, admiring a sleepy you – burying himself his deepest within you. He knew you struggled to take his thickness, but easing you through it was the best thing he had ever done. It represents the subconscious trust you carry for him, revealing your nude vulnerability and your guarded heart.

“L-Let…me,” Pussy-stricken, Sylus stutters – consumed by the tingling warmth that cuddles his whole physique. However, he still has adorable, crimson ears. Ears you’d always tease.

Nodding, you lazily wrap your burly legs around Sylus’ abdomen – desperate to immortally seize him. Nothing in you wanted to release his closeness, to protect your future. Everything within you wanted to keep him here, have him cum in you so many times, uncaring if you end up pregnant. All you wanted was everything of him, no matter how much love bit you – putting you in overwhelming situations.

Sacrificing yourself, you feel Sylus grow increasingly aggressive and more possessive. Animalistically, he brings his hand to settle around your neck – moaning, grunting and growling at the submissive scenery of you. Sylus goes his absolute hardest, turned on by your overstimulated self. Just seeing you, croakily moaning, completely broken into, churned his heart. 

You’re all his now, something he won’t forfeit. Even as you subconsciously cry, your jiggly breasts bouncing, your squelching pussy wanting more, Sylus can’t bring himself to release you. He knows you want all of his thick, fruitful buckets of semen, but he wanted to taunt you a little bit. Even if it renders him into painful, yet beautiful, pleasure, he doesn’t care. Depriving you, corrupting you, it was what he loved most. As if he’d give you his cum right now, filling you up to listen to you purr with satisfaction.

“‘Can’t…resist,” Admiring your hickey-scattered self, Sylus cries out with angst – his abdomen a crazed mess as he intensely cums inside of you.

Happily, Sylus stuffed you like a twinkie bar – overstuffing you with his spilling seed. As you arch at his extremely intense release, Sylus softly increases the pressure on your neck – remaining his deepest within you. Whilst you’re laying beneath him, a sticky and sweaty mess, he lets his cock kiss your cervix once more – shooting out his last cum spurts. Marking you made him gleeful, leaving you with a belly full of him.

He did not care that you’re ovulating, right now.

“You…did good, sweetie,” Exhausted, pulling out, Sylus breathlessly praises you – looking into your fluttering eyes. He could see the conflict that stirred within your glassy eyes.

“Y-Yeah, but,” Doubtful, you stop speaking – feeling him alter his physique. Sylus slowly settled you upon his chest, giving a nude you the sound of his rumbling heartbeat.

“Speak,” Doused with curiosity, Sylus’ low, scruffy tone forces you to answer. His authority’s off the charts, knowing you’re vulnerable now.

“You never said it,” Physically drained, you respond to him – meekly shying away at his intimidating demeanour.

“That I love you, sweetie?” Sylus’ almost conclusive question causes your stomach to inhabit butterflies.

You didn’t even care that you could get pregnant or anything that could happen.

“Yeah,” Meek, you reply to an attentive him – listening to Sylus’ heartbeat rise erratically. 

You did that.

“I love you, sweetie,” Embedded with truth, Sylus reassures you – plastering a gentle kiss upon your temple.

Gentleness adheres to you, causing you to cave into his hold. Listening to him speak so sincerely, riddled with the art of love, completely consumed you. Heartiness adheres to you, pushing you into relishing Sylus’ presence. Even if love bites, you can’t help but relish Sylus’ presence – rendered love-stricken.

Weirdly, you didn’t want to resist the bites of love. Naturally, you pledge to embrace them – especially since they came from Sylus.

—

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. read more.

[mossy-rock-in-a-field]

Several weeks ago, my retirement-age mother requested that I play Baldur’s Gate 3 for her because she has trouble with controllers/keyboards and wanted “to see what all the fuss is about with that cute wizard boy.” For context, my mother and I have done this sort of thing in the past with certain RPGs (dragon age, mass effect, etc.), but it’s been a few years since she’s personally requested a game like this. Basically, I control her Tav but let her make all the choices so she can determine how the story plays out without worrying about mechanics. She treats it like a choose-your-own-adventure book.

Anyway, here is a list of some of the things my mother has said and/or chosen to do throughout the course of BG3 in no particular order:

She is (obviously) romancing Gale. She is quite smitten with him and his passion for books and learning; she also thinks he’s polite and qualifies as “relationship material.” She also REALLY likes the things he’s said about his cat so far (my mom is a cat lady), so I know she’s gonna flip shit when we meet Tara in Act III.

She’s playing a normal druid Tav with a generally good alignment. Her favorite spell is Spike Growth because she thinks it’s hilarious whenever enemies walk into the AOE and die. I usually end up having to cast it at least once per battle per her request. Sometimes twice.

Contrary to her alignment, my mother tasks me with robbing every single chest, crate, barrel, and burlap sack we come across; this also includes people and their pockets. The party is always at max carrying capacity. ALWAYS. She doesn’t like selling things because “what if I need them.” The camp stash is in literal shambles. There is no hope of organizing it. She’s got like fifty seven sets of rags and a billion pieces of random silverware.

She MUST talk to every animal and corpse in the game. I think five hours of her total playtime so far (47ish) has been spent speaking to animals as many times as humanly possible. Like, I was thorough in my own playthroughs, but this is on a whole other level.

She did NOT get Volo’s lobotomy, but she did let Auntie Ethel take her eye in hopes of a cure for the tadpole. I did not understand the logic then. I still do not understand it now.

She is far more interested in fashion than equipment stats. Do you have any idea how much gold I’ve had to spend on dyes just to make things match? SO much. Same vibe as that “please someone help me balance my finances my family is starving” tweet but instead of candles it’s thirty thousand fucking bottles of black and furnace red dye.

We broke the prisoners out of Moonrise, but they got on the boat too early and bugged the fight by leaving Astarion and Karlach behind. Wulbren Bongle somehow got stuck in combat mode even after engaging the cutscene on the docks below Last Light; he he kept trying to run ALL THE WAY BACK TO MOONRISE nine fucking meters at a time while I frantically tried to finish the fight with the Warden, otherwise Wulbren would have run straight into the shadow curse. (I would’ve let him go; fuck Wulbren Bongle, all my homies hate Wulbren Bongle. But my mom didn’t know that, and she wanted to keep him safe. So.)

She had me reload a save like eighteen times to save the giant eagles on top of Rosymorn Monastery. Wouldn’t even let me do non-lethal damage just to get past things. I think getting that warhammer for the dawnmaster puzzle took us like an hour and a half alone. (Yes, I know you can use any warhammer, but SHE didn’t.)

She’s started keeping an irl notebook to keep track of her quests between play sessions. She writes down ideas and strategies when she thinks of them during the week, then brings them to her next game session at my house. I think she wrote about three pages on possible approaches to the goblin fortress alone.

She insists that I pet Scratch and the owlbear cub before every single long rest, no exceptions. Sometimes I have to do it multiple times until she is absolutely sure that the animals know exactly how much she loves and cherishes them. She has also commissioned a crocheted owlbear plush from a friend of hers and is very excited.

I’m sure there’s a bunch of stuff I’m forgetting, but those are some fun things I thought of. She’s enjoying the game and is telling all of her retired friends to get it and play it for themselves. She asked me “what is Discord” yesterday and I think my life flashed before my eyes.

anyway shout out to my mom for being neat

Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

[luvyeni]

1095 DAYS ,, 방찬

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ exinmate!bangchan x fem!reader wc. 1.3k

genre. smut

🦢◞  including ... oral ( m. receiving ), unprotected sex, breeding kink, daddy kink

request. HERE I AM AGAIN! Ahem so I want a chan smut "he comes out of prison after 2 years for killing your psycho ex and you wait for him at home dressed in his fav way ;)" yeahhhh sounds horrible and freaky but I trust you ;)))

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 enjoy it probably one of my favs in a while !

❪ masterlist! ❫

1095 days; 16 hours, 30 minutes and 23 agonizing seconds since you could wake up to his arms warmly wrapped around you in the morning, hear his laugh when he tells you a corny joke that you laugh at just to make him smile— it was finally coming to an end.

3 years before you met chan; you were in a very physically and verbally abusive relationship with your ex; he destroyed you and everything around you— if it wasn't for chan you probably wouldn't have escaped; he saved you, and after he saved you he protected you, didn't let anyone harm you.

when your ex began to stalk you again; finding your shared apartment with chan, breaking into your home thinking you were alone; fortunately for you; you were weren't, but you couldn't say the same thing about your ex. he left out in a body bag, but the love of your life; the only man to protect you was also leaving out that night— in handcuffs.

the court process was long and stressful; and in the end he was sentenced to 5 years in prison for the murder of your ex— 5 years which you told him you'd serve right by his side; well on the outside.

it was the hardest time of both your lives; seeing him locked up in a cage when you went to visit him; sometimes covered in bruises due to fights he would get into with other inmates. only being able to speak to him for short periods of time, most of the time it was him listening to you cry about how you missed him and you needed him, which only made him upset; but he would never change what he did , if he could go back and do it again, he would.

luckily it was all over; he was released, 3 years later; 2 years before his release due to good behavior— he couldn't wait to be and to touch you, it was the first thing he thought about as he walked through those gates. “look at you.” lee know a good friend of his waited with his car. “you’re fucking jacked, did all you do was work out?” he pulled the boy into a hug. “ah! so good to be out.” he said. “and that's all i could do man, that and think about my girl.”

“speaking of your girl; don't worry we made sure she was straight the entire time, she's waiting for you at home.” he smiled getting into the car. “take me to my girl.”

staring at yourself in the mirror; you looked sexy, and it was chans favorite. “perfect.” you smiled to yourself, heart pounding, you'd finally have him in your arms again— you'd finally have him inside you again. “baby?” you heard his voice , the door closing being him. “oh my god!” you shrieked, running out of the room. “channie!” you jumped into his arms. “babygirl.” he lifted you up. “fuck i missed you so much princess.”

“i missed you too.” you said , he groaned. “seeing you and not being able to touch you was fucking torture.” he said. “it's been torture.” you whined, kissing his neck. “i needed you.” he moaned as you bit his neck. “it's not the same using my fingers.” he could feel his cock hardening in his sweats. “then how about i give my pretty princess what she's been needing for the past three years?” he hummed against your skin. “let's take this too the bed room baby.”

he carried you to the room, sitting you down on the bed, taking in your outfit. “oh baby i surely did miss this.” he sighed. “good cause you're getting this for the next few months.” you looked at him with glazed over eyes as you sunk to your knees, hold the waistband of his sweats. “yeah?” he said. “gonna suck my cock?” you nodded; pulling his pants down, along with his underwear , his cock almost slapping you in the face. “missed this so much.”

you grabbed the base of his cock; kissing his tip. “fuck baby , give me what i've been missing.” you sunk down on his length; his head knocking back as you began to bob your head up and down. “that's it baby, suck my cock.” he hadn't felt this in so long; unable to ever have privacy in a prison cell; he was force to be celibate the three years he was locked up. “fu-fuck baby , not gonna last long; take it fully choke on daddy's dick.” he grunted , your removed your hand from stroking what you couldn't fit inside your mouth, holding his thighs as you took him fully , gagging around his length. “yes fuck!” his thick accent and deep moans , shooting straight to your cunt , making you moan around his length. “fuck baby gonna blow my load , gonna take it right fuck , take it right down your throat?”

he began to thrust himself; using your throat. “fuck baby im gonna cum, gonna fucking cum?” he released over and over. “fuck im cumming!” he shouted , cumming into your waiting mouth , pulling out cumming onto your cheek. “good girl , taking daddy's cock like that.” he moaned, slapping his cock on your cheek. “time for daddy to fuck that pretty pussy of his.”

he helped you up. “as much as i love this pretty outfit, it's time to take this off so i can get a good look of your pretty body.” you slowly took off your lingerie, he watched you , stroking his cock. “you like daddy?” he smirked. “so fucking much princess , your pretty photos is what kept me sane for those three years.” he groaned. “go ahead and get on the bed for me.”

he cursed as you climbed on to the bed , spreading your legs revealing your wet center. “so wet baby, you really missed my cock didn't you?” he got in between your legs. “so-so much.” you moaned. “missed it so much.” you said , running your freshly manicured fingernails , pink with his initials , down his abs. “please fuck me.”

he wasn't gonna deny you or himself , pushing himself inside you. “oh yes.” he moaned. “this is what i've been missing.” he slowly rocked his cock inside of you. “ch-chris.” you moaned. “so-so fucking big.” the familiarity of his cock stretching you out , giving your cunt exactly what it wanted after so many years. “go faster please.”

he pushed your legs against your chest. “want daddy to go faster, fuck you deeper?” you nodded, he folded your body in half , pounding into you. “fuck!” you screamed. “this what you want?” he plowed into you. “for me to ruin this pussy?” he hissed. “yes please!” you cried out. “fu-fuck princess , daddy missed you so much.” he cursed. “missed feeling you squeezing me like this.” he groaned , the last three years were hell , now that he was out , he wasn't going back , he would never leave you for that long. “shit im gonna cum.” he moaned. “me-me too.” you moaned. “please cum inside me.”

“yeah? want me to cum inside you, give you a baby?” he cursed, he was ready to settle down with you, he had it all figured out , get a job at changbins auto shop; marry you and start a family. “please chan , give me a baby.” he kissed your neck. “channie im gonna cum.” you moaned. “gonna cum all over your cock.”

“fuck baby do it, cream daddy's cock.” he watched your mouth drop open as you came. “oh fuck that's it baby cum for daddy.” he groaned. “gonna cum.” his thrust began to falter. “fuck im cumming!” his cock twitching as he came deep inside you. “shit.”

he pulled out; watching his cum leak out. “mhm , not done baby , daddy's still hard.” he began to thrust inside you. “chan.” you shook in overstimulation. “ch-chan please fuck me.” he smiled. “don't worry baby.”

“daddys got so much more cum for you pretty girl.”

©LUVYEN

[inkdrinkerworld]

Maybe Spencer is having a bad BAD day, full on ptsd, and sunshine!reader is trying hard to cheer him up. It gets to a point where Spmcer just snaps and says something mean and starts a fight

Spencer can feel the bars around him. He feels trapped in his own mind because he can see that he isn’t in prison anymore, but his brain has been conjuring these vivid dreams of him being back and of Shaw sending men to beat him up.

Every night, the dreams end with Spencer never being found not guilty and him having to spend five years in prison and his eventual death from Shaw’s men.

He’s gasping and shaking and there’s a sweat spot on his sheets. He apologises every morning, you tell him it’s okay and that you’re here to talk. He never wants to talk about it and you never push.

He doesn’t sleep the rest of the night and it makes him irritable.

When he comes into work, you try not to internalise the way he brushes you out of his path as he beelines for the coffee pot.

“I already put your cup on your desk. With breakfast.” You try to temper your cheeriness when you notice the way his shoulders tense.

Spencer wants to be grateful, but all he can think is, ‘I can do it myself. I can take care of myself.’

He doesn’t say anything, not a quiet thanks, not even a half smile.

Your nerves are frayed immediately.

You don’t know what Spencer experienced in prison, he’s told you bits and pieces, the nicer parts of living in a 4 x 4.

Yet, you know the signs of PTSD and as the day drags on, you’re almost certain Spencer’s having a rough go of things.

He’s been snappy with Luke, nice with Penelope, and then flippant with you all over again. It’s hard not to feel like nothing you do is helping.

“We could go out to get lunch. From the place you like, the burger joint.” Spencer’s been slipping in and out of this conversation and the longer he hears your sweet voice, the more it sounds like chalk grating a blackboard.

At his silence, “Or we could order in? Whatever helps, Spence.”

Suddenly, his coffee cup is shattering in the wall behind your head and Spencer’s chest is racing. “Stop!” You feel hot tears prick behind your eyes at being yelled at; at work no less.

“It would help if you weren’t fucking hovering all the damn time. I can take care of myself, I don’t need your help. As a matter of fact, I don’t want your help. Go find someone else to be happy go lucky with, some of us can’t stand it.”

Your breath hitches, you’ve never heard Spencer speak with such venom. You reach a hand to your cheek pulling it away to find blood on your fingertips. Spencer must see it too because he’s on his feet, reaching for you as you step away from his outstretched hands.

You try to remind yourself that he’s just reeling, that he’s been having a rough couple of nights, that this will pass and that you don’t need to be mean to him too. “Fuck you Spencer.” The words are out of you before you can think about it much more. It’s honestly the nicest thing you could muster right now, embarrassment and defeat hot in your chest.

Emily and Matt rush in, finding Spencer tugging at his hair. Emily sighs as she sees the broken mug, Matt sighs as he notes your missing presence.

“Fucking stupid.” Spencer murmurs to himself, pushing back his chair, digging around in his desk for a first aid kit. “I’ll come back and clean it up,” no one is really listening. Emily will do this for him while he cleans up his other mess.

Spencer finds you in the bathroom with Penelope cleaning the little shards from your hair and cheek.

She glares at him and Spencer feels even worse; to top it off you don’t even look at him, just at his shoes.

“I’ll finish it, Garcia.” She stills, not knowing what to do. As she looks at you, you give her a little nod and she leaves, rubbing your back as she goes.

Spencer doesn’t approach you for some time, standing there like you’re the one who exploded and he’s waiting for another shout.

“I’m sorry,” he starts, taking up the tweezers Penelope left behind and reaching for your cheek. Spencer cradles your face gently as he picks the shards out. “I shouldn’t have thrown the mug, or said any of what I said.”

You don’t say anything, letting him continue. “You don’t hover, and I love that you’re always smiling and happy. It’s not an excuse but my dreams are really getting to me, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you.”

You offer Spencer your other hand. You weigh your words, “No you shouldn’t have. I understand that some of what happened while you were in prison is too hard to talk about, but you need to talk to someone Spencer. You can’t just throw things and scream and then shut people out.”

He nods, “Luke recommended me to a psychiatrist for people suffering from PTSD, but I guess I felt like going would be me admitting that things there got to me.”

You sigh, “I’m not sure if I can do this if you’re going to shut me out and be violent like that.” At Spencer’s panicked eyes you continue. “I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose, but this unchecked shit is going to. Whether you mean for it to or not.”

Spencer opens the first aid kit and swipes at your cheek gently, grateful that it hadn’t been a deep cut. Still he knows the silver scar it’s going to leave will eat at him forever.

“I made an appointment for tomorrow at nine.” He mumbles, worry and dread eating at his stomach. “I know it might take a bit for you to trust me again-“

You roll your eyes, “I do trust you. I trust that you’ll go to therapy, use all the tools given to you and cue me in when things are too hard. I trust that you won’t do this again Spencer. I’m not going to punish you for having an off day.”

Tears spring to his eyes unconsciously, “You don’t want to leave? Because I’d understand if you wanted to.”

You kiss his wrist, “No I don’t want to. I know you’re going to get better, but if there’s a next time, Spencer I’m not staying.”

“There won’t be a next time, I swear.” He kisses right under your injured cheek, tender and soft.

[solbaby7]

Killing Me Softly

pairing: cassian x reader

[ part 2 ]

warnings: swearing, violence, blood, jealous themes, angst

summary: [based off that episode in greys were Mer got beaten by that patient who didn’t remember anything when they woke up]

—

It had started out as a normal fight.

Something small and fixable.

But somewhere along the way, things had snowballed and the playful Cassian you’d always known had disappeared before your very eyes. “You have a responsibility,” His tone is firm; slightly condescending and you can feel the attitude beginning to form when his arms cross over his chest. Cassian shoulders squared out, spine straight and wings pulled taut as he stood his ground. “The answer is no.”

“Cass, you’re not even listening. I told you I had this planned a week ago,” It comes out rushed, brows furrowed as you tried to meet something else besides that hard wall behind hazel eyes. “Besides it’s the med wing, they always have volunteers coming in to help—it’s just one date.”

“This really isn’t up for discussion,” His steely exterior nearly crumbles to pieces when he sees the way you visibly deflate, fingers grazing over the pretty dress you’d spent three days searching for with Mor and Cass had to pretend to be thrilled when you came barreling through his bedroom door with it in hand. You were beaming, smile so wide he thought your cheeks would split in two. “Now, go get changed.”

Guilt bubbles in his belly at the sight of you, jaw clenched tight and eyes blinking furiously to push back the frustrated tears; you had been really excited. You say nothing when you breeze past him, making sure not to touch him or make eye contact when you disappear back where you came and Cass doesn’t even need to turn around to know the way Azriel is looking at him. “Thought you said the med-wing was fully staffed? Easy day, you said.”

“Don’t even start.”

“It was just one date, she bought a dress and everything.” Az doesn’t buckle at the remorse that begins to scrunch at hard features, hands that clench and unclench at his sides as Cass battled a war that didn’t take prisoners. “If you won’t act on your feelings for her then leave her be so she can be happy.”

“Seriously, mind your fucking business.” Cassian all but snarls, golden eyes like burning lava when regarding his brother; the words hitting much harder than and punch. “She had a job to do and she’ll be here doing it. We don’t have time for stupid dresses and dates when people are dying.”

You don’t speak when you re-emerge in something more sturdy, medical equipment neatly organized in a bag that you held loosely in one hand. A whole folder of papers had been shoved in your grasp from a brooding General, inky hair flying away from his face when the wind cut through on his speedy departure. Frustration builds but you don’t allow it to overcome you, ignoring Azriel’s inquisitive stare, arms crossed over his chest and thick leathers hugging muscular thighs. “You okay?”

You sigh, gesturing to the stack of papers while you begin down the hall. “I’m busy.”

Times flows significantly slower now that you’re aware you’re missing something of importance; you’d really been looking forward to dressing up. Taking special time on your hair and the dark kohl that Mor insisted would make your eyes pop. The bittersweet daydream of what could’ve been is interrupted by the ruffled patient, his body covered in a serious of wrappings and notes near his side table on the tonics he’d been given—heavy duty sedatives and even stronger pain alleviants. Dosages so high there was no was he should’ve been moving, eyes blinking into consciousness and slurred speech stumbling from his tongue. “Where am I?”

“Sir, it’s okay just relax. I’m only here to help.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Your hands are gentle when they reach out for him in attempts to soothe but it only makes him more agitated, arms whipping around wildly and his volume steadily increases. “Who are you? Why am I here?”

“Sir, please. If you just calm down I can explain—you were hurt, I’m only here to help.”

Rational thought and logic make no home in the frantic patients mind, his terrifyingly sturdy grip latches onto your shoulder. You’re jostled in close, bandages and antiseptic falling from your grasp and you only have time for one sharp yelp before his hands are wrapped around your neck. It takes alarmingly little effort for him to get to his feet, slamming your form down on the cot he’d been recovering in for days. Broken noises pull from your throat, nails scratching at his arms and face and whatever skin you can get your hands on, punching and kicking and reaching for anything to help and just as a black spots line your vision you finally get a good kick in, enough to push you from his hands and your body tumbles to the floor with a thud.

Deep heaving breaths pull from you, sucking in as much oxygen as your lungs will allow and tears you didn’t even realize you’d let out are streaming down the curve of your cheeks as you struggle to gain your footing, to get out of the room but hands are back around your arms. A broken cry fills the air when your face is shoved into the wall, heavy weight pushing you over and over until blood pooled from your temple and choked noises caught in your throat.

You can’t even remember when it stopped, a darkness overtaking you but even that’s abruptly ripped away from you for what feels like just seconds later. Someone screaming, strangled, pain filled shouts when you feel a set of hands on your body, lifting you from the floor and setting you on a cool table. “She’s awake,” You hear Madja firmly speak, hands quick yet sturdy when reaching into her bag to pull out medical grade scissors. “Anyone not necessary needs to leave.”

“She’s family, we aren’t leaving her.” Azriel retorts even stronger, leaving no room for discussion and you can feel the warmth of his hands on your own when he looks down at you. “You’re going to be okay, we’re here. We’re all here.”

You can’t even form words, eyes watery and panicked when darting between both of his own and the grip you have on his fingers when the healer pressed down on your abdomen is enough to have him barking at her for pain relief. “I can’t just give her things without a full assessment.”

“Assess faster—she’s in too much pain.”

Everything goes in one ear and out the other; you keep trying to speak, to beg them to please stop poking there and prodding at that bruise and asking if it hurt there, because it hurt everywhere. Broken whines pull from your throat, chest heaving and limbs trembling so hard the table shook. “I can feel three—no four broken ribs, collarbone fracture on the right side, shoulders dislocated on the right as well.” Madja begins, voice almost void of any emotion as she drifts from a person to a woman in charge. The High Lord in standing near your head, murmuring encouraging words while soaking in the information, a grim expression shared between him and the shadowsinger. “Damage to the brain is possible with such intense trauma to her head; two males had to physically pull the patient off of her.”

“Why would he even do this?” Rhys takes the warm cloth handed to him and gently begins to drag it over your forehead, trying his best to comfort you through the agony. “She’s harmless—she wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”

“It was the first time he’d been lucid since we’d found him; he doesn’t even remember what happened.”

Half a dozen more healers filter in the room with handfuls of equipment, eyes filled with worry when regarding one of their own but they quickly shake it off and step into line to assist. Azriel snarls at Madja’s words, stomach clenching in disdain at the helpless groans you let out, head lolling from side to side, tears treading trails into your hair as the pain overwhelms you.

Madja skims a knuckle over your jaw on accident when accessing the harsh bruising at your throat and the yelp that pulls is absolutely devastating. “Grab the restraints and hold her down,” The healer commands to the others, insisting they wrap them tighter while ignoring the deep shouts of the two males guarding you like their lives depended on it. “Her jaw is broken,” A heavy sigh pulls from Madja, dark hair tightly braided behind her shoulders. “—I have to set it and it won’t be fun so help me or get out of the room so we can do our jobs.”

Rhysand’s fingers are running through your hair, Azriel’s thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of your hands and you feel the exact moment they both go stiff, heads turning to face the towering figure that stuttered to a stop in the doorway. “I’ll hold her arms,” The shadowsinger holds your arms with a firmness you hadn’t experienced from him before, soft apologies being whispered into your ears when your heart rate surges. “Cass, hold her legs. She needs to be still.”

The General doesn’t move, eyes wide and mouth hung open when he takes in your form. The clothes that were cut from your body, the countless amounts of thick gauze and medical towels soaked with your blood pooling in piles on the floor. Warbled streaks of crimson red is a stark contrast against the white floors; the smeared print of ten fingers and two palms drag along the wall, the small side table and the around door handle—you’d just nearly gotten away. “Cassian,” Azriel snaps, the rough tone ripping him from his trance. “Hold down her legs, now.”

The shock doesn’t wear off even if he does do as he’s told, golden eyes stuck on every bruise, ears painfully attuned to every whimper, every cry and gut-wrenching scream when your jaw was forced open, the bone shifting with a deafening crunch. “Please, please, please.” You barely get the words out; speech slurred, sweat lacing your forehead, body shaking so hard from the pain you couldn’t tell what was up from down. “Please, make it stop. Please, I’ll do anything—please stop.”

“Give her something!” Rhys snapped, wiping away tears and bracing you from moving around too much.

Madja scoffs, outnumbered and overwhelmed she calls for a tonic, allowing a higher dose than normal and your relief is instant. Deep cries fade to drawn out whimpers before your whole form goes eerily limp. “This will not be an easy recovery; if you think that was bad, just wait.” Quick hands make work of setting your shoulder with a sharp jolt and another healer is wrapping it in thick bandages to keep it in place. “Why was she even in here? The form specifically stated that supervision was required for this patient—she shouldn’t have been alone.”

“She shouldn’t have been here at all,” One of the healers muttered under her breath, hands quick and careful when tucking your hair behind your ear and dabbing your face clean of the blood that had started drying. “—she had a date today. I took this shift for her so she could go. She’s been talking about it all week.”

A silence fills the room and Rhys follows the sharp stare Azriel had trained on the General who’d been stuck in place at your feet. His hands shake where they rest near your calves, gaze seemly stuck on the socks you wore, fabric torn and stained in your own blood and he can just picture how hard you’d struggled trying to escape. Cassian says nothing, not when the others seem to catch on; putting together a piece of the puzzle in his silence—the shock that settles in every pore and the guilt that radiated from his burly form.

He only watches as they collect the soiled gauze off the floor, antiseptic filling the space when they begin to scrub your handprints off the wall, sweeping up the drywall that gave way from the pure strength put into smashing your body to pieces. “Four broken ribs,” Azriel’s voice is unnervingly calm when the last of the healers filter out, the door shutting behind with a soft click. “—a fractured collarbone; she was thrown into the wall so hard her shoulder popped out of socket.” Rhys takes a step forward, a hand raised to stop the shadowsinger but he’s sharply cut off, Az’s tone getting just a bit deeper when he stalks towards Cassian like predators did their prey. “He nearly shattered her skull—she’d be dead if it weren’t for one of the other patients. They heard her scream and found me.” Inky shadows slink around Azriel’s shoulders, but it’s the hand that pushes Cassian a step away from you that finally gains his attention.

“Azriel—“ Rhysand begins to intercept but abruptly pauses when the spymaster continues, fingers pointed at the leader of the Night Courts armies.

“You made her stay today because you were jealous.”

The High Lord goes still, violet eyes sliding from one friend to the other. “What?”

“She had a date and Cass was jealous because he has feelings for her and is too afraid to say anything.” Azriel can’t seem to stop once he’s started; such pure rage burning beneath his skin at the selfishness that resulted in such unimaginable pain.

“You think any of that matters right now?” Cassian doesn’t even sound like himself; no booming voice or need to make his point, no logical facts and carefully thought out points. He can’t even stop looking at you, eyes glassy and shoulders slumped when remembering what you’d looked like just two hours earlier. “I thought I didn’t deserve her before but now—after this? I know I don’t.”

[plasticferal]

hey queen! can you pls do an angst story with chris. where they get into an argument and chris said things he never meant. then he apologizes to her afterwards. ( basically angst to fluff)

damsel in distress | chris sturniolo.

i added my own twist to this ask. it's my favourite prompt so thank you! 18+ protective!ex-boyfriend chris x fem!reader. fighting, touches on themes of unwanted attention, mentions of alcohol, explicit language. reader discretion is advised. p.s inspired by the unreleased olivia rodrigo song 'prison for life'.

the house is filled with familiar faces and strangers. a small gathering turned into a full blown house party from the moment the word got out. where the sturniolo triplets are, a flock follows. you sigh, pushing and shoving your way through the unwanted crowd.

all you want is to make it into the kitchen, miraculously being the only place no one wants to linger. the last person you need to see right now is your ex lover. chris is standing ahead of you, leaning on the kitchen counter, alone in the room. you shut the doors behind you, needing to escape. even if it means with him.

“if you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked." he speaks smug, before taking a sip from his red solo cup.

“i'm not in the mood,” you dismiss. you open the fridge, eyes scanning the shelves but nothing calling your name.

you know you're not actually looking for anything, you just don't want to look at him. the entire night has you shaking with anger. from the mess in your home, the lack of care everyone is taking, the noise complaint you know you'll be getting later, and worst of all, that one guy who won't leave you alone.

you've never seen him before tonight, you don't even know his name, but all he's done is make you uncomfortable. try to dance with you, try to give you drinks. he brushes your waist every time he walks past.

all of your friends have been encouraging you to go for it, to get over chris. and honestly, you consider it for a moment. just to finally move on, but you can't bring yourself to. at least not with some random creep.

the break up is still raw. he tells everyone it was 'mutual' but it was a part on your request. he'd never throw you under the bus like that. he knows why you made your decision, he's never questioned it.

chris feels like it's unrequited love. although, you haven't lost any love for him, no matter how much you try to push him away. he has every right to despise you, but he doesn't.

every time you close a chapter with him, you find yourself in a sequel. it's like you're re-reading different stories, but the ending stays the same. your heart wants him, your brain wants to hate him.

"what's wrong?" he asks, sensing you're genuine in your frustration.

"nothing." you refuse to let him know what's happing in your world, let alone your mind. you don't need to let in him anymore, even though you want to let it out. he's the one person who could just sit and listen to you for hours on end.

"alright, just askin" his words trail off into a hush. he switches the tone, not wanting the conversation to stop.

“your friends are nice” he speaks in a sickeningly sweet tone, because if anyone knows how to kick you while you're down, it's him.

"you would think that" you scoff, implying that you've seen them throw themselves at him all night. him pouring them drinks, smiling and frothing over the attention he's receiving.

"the fuck is that supposed to mean?" his temperamental side seeps out, and you grow only more irritated.

"chris, can you get out please?" you huff, hands crossing over your chest. an unintentional way to seperate yourself from him, a metaphorical wall being put up.

"such a party pooper. you really gotta let loose, relax a bit." his words come out a lot more nasty that you hope he meant them, and it makes your face hot.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and think he's speaking with resilience, at the fact you keep shutting him down.

"i wonder why we ever broke up." you reply sarcastically, a fake smile on your face. he rolls his eyes, finishing off his drink and letting out an audible "ah," like a child finishing a juice box.

"i haven't seen you all night, y/n" his voice softens, and it becomes clear he's speaking for the sake of talking to you. he always wants to talk to you.

looking at the counter quickly to place his cup down, he looks back at you, tilting his head to the side slightly. he's not being horrible to you, he never has been. he's still in your life whether you like it or not, despite your hostility.

"sorry. i'm just tired." you lie. he knows it.

"your poker face isn't very good. i learnt that the hard way," he bounces his eyebrows, biting the tip of his tongue, eyes a bit wider as he stares at the ground and you can tell he's having a flashback.

you chuckle at the reference. the one time he caught you faking an orgasm didn't end very well, and he's been able to catch you out ever since. he's never been afraid to pull you up on your own fibs.

"sorry, again." you hug your body tighter, avoiding his eyes. he pushes himself off the counter with a stretch like hum and walks over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

"stop apologizing, you sound like matt," he rolls his eyes lightheartedly, and you let out a small laugh. that's always his intention, to make you smile.

"c'mon princess, let's get you a drink. seems like you need it." he nods toward to the door, rubbing your shoulder enthusiastically.

you let him try to fix your mood, because god knows you do actually need to stop stressing. you can't control what happens, just how you react. that's what chris always used to say when you were together.

feeling safe in his embrace, he security guard style moves you through the party. he hollers "excuse me!" and "coming through!" and everyone just listens, parting like the red sea. he's not the biggest guy in the room, but he sure is the most assertive. especially with you under his arm.

when you finally get to the drinks table, he makes you a vodka lemonade, saving the rest of the can for himself to finish off. it's not the most thrilling drink, but enough to keep you settled. ease the tension a bit. plus, it tastes good. no harm, no foul. as chris is mixing the liquids into cups, you feel an unwanted hand snake up around your hip.

"there you are. are you hiding from me?" your stomach drops at the voice of the mystery man towering over you, and you look ahead to watch chris's eyes snap up instantly.

chris lowers the cups, holding his eyes on the man behind you. you watch as he kinks his neck and his jaw tenses, taking a step closer. you shake your head at chris, holding a hand up subtly to tell him not to come any closer.

turning around, you stare up at the man. his breath reeks of liquor, and his shirt is drenched is sweat. it makes you sour your face and tense your entire body.

"i don't know what you want from me, but it's not gonna happen. i think you should leave." you speak sternly, trying not to let your voice shake with pure nerves. not even liquid confidence could help you right now.

"the party's just getting started," the man smiles, stumbling toward you in what you think is an attempt at a hug, but you begin pushing his body away from yours with a shove.

"dude, she doesn't want you. walk away." you hear chris's direct voice over your shoulder.

the last thing you want is negative attention on chris in a room full of people who would spread the news like wildfire. you never want that for him.

"it's okay, i got this." you dismiss chris in the nicest possible way, but you're being serious.

"come on, we'll have fun," the man hiccups through his words, mumbling them and tripping over toward you again.

"get the fuck away from her." chris's breath hits the back of your neck as he moves even closer to you.

"christopher, i'm serious. stop." you speak through grit teeth, so people can't read your lips, as he lingers next to you.

you try to be as inconspicuous as you can in your rejection to his advances, but he won't give up. the man appears more annoyed, and he grabs your wrist with a tight grip.

"let go of me." you grab the mans hand, trying to pry his grip without making it obvious.

you’re shaking at the thought of attention drawing. not for you, but for chris. eyes are already on you, being his ex. it's not what he ever wanted for you either. if he could make it all disappear, he would. it becomes more difficult when chris notices, and this time, has no intention of backing down.

"i'm not gonna repeat myself, back the fuck up." chris walks around your body, face to face with the guy who has a hold on you now.

"please, chris." you beg, voice quivering.

you know his temper can change in the blink of an eye. him and matt both have that in common.

"she doesn't need your help, pretty boy." the man splatters his words, a malicious smile on his face as he leans toward chris, almost nose to nose.

chris smiles criminally, flashing his teeth.

"you're right," chris puts his hands up in defence, a downward smile on his face as he chuckles darkly, taking a big step backward.

there's a feeling of relief, and intense fear as he actually does start to back away. but you know chris. unfortunately, it's unavoidable.

you try to catch his eyes, and speak through a begging stare without using words. he looks at you with sadness, and you mime the words, 'please don't'.

the moment the man tugs your wrist as if to leave with him, making you wince with the grip he holds. you regret your counteraction instantly, because chris reacts viscerally.

he flares his nostrils and squeezes his nails into his palm, balling up his hands by his hip. his knuckles are turning white.

before you can get pulled away, chris lunges forward with a tight fist, throwing a strong, perfectly aligned punch to the mans cheekbone. it throws the man to the ground in the blink of an eye, relieving the pressure on your skin. you stumble backwards, out of the line of fire.

chris steps heavily forward, shoving a foot into his ribcage before straddling his legs, completely overpowering him. the man projects forward to swing and hit chris's mouth. chris doesn't even flinch, like it was painless. you watch chris raise his arm up again to pummel down onto the now defenceless stranger.

the surrounding crowd gasps and yells, clearing the space that chris has created with his actions. iphone cameras flash, making you feel sick. the whispering and gossip you can already hear pounding in your head is overwhelming.

you feel so futile. chris is too in his own world to even realise the repercussions. you're not saying the guy didn't deserve it, you have no care in the world for him. you care about the aftermath.

in a fantasy world, a daydream, a fairytale even, this is attractive. a knight in shining armour, fighting for his lady. a world where there are no consequences, or social media, or fear. a reality chris has suddenly forgotten about.

he looks natural doing it, too. the veins in his arms so prominent, his tight mouth and huffed breaths as he gives it everything he's got.

you're frozen in shock, watching chris pelt another punch into the man, and you want to pull him off, you know you need to, but all your body can do is watch. watch the two men roughhousing and exchanging blows, chris taking every hit with pride.

you're numb to the feeling, screaming in your head.

appearing out of thin air, nick and matt are in your line of vision, hiding the chaos ahead of you. his brothers move into action before anyone else needs to.

they've obviously been summoned, but there's a part of you that believes they could just sense it. like they telepathically knew chris was getting himself into trouble by the lack of surprise they express.

nick grabs chris by the collar of his shirt, pulling him off. matt grabs his wrists, to stop him from using his fists. the fight comes undone, finally, but chris is disoriented. he spits onto the man as he's being escorted into the kitchen by his brothers.

your eyes burn with tears that refuse to fall, and matt sweeps your hand up, guiding you with them in a hurried manner. matt is trying to snap you back to reality, but it's just white noise.

chris hits his palm aggressively with frustration against the door frame of the kitchen as you all walk through, and you take a deep breath to compose yourself. your eyes are still welling as you choke back a sniffle, and you're not sure if it's shock, hurt, or anger anymore.

you're in a trance as you walk over to the freezer. your body is in autopilot, moving without you even knowing. you grab a frozen bag of vegetables out of the tray.

"so fucking stupid," you say nastily under your breath, slamming the door shut.

walking over to chris who's sat up on the ledge of the sink. you throw the packet at his chest, and he grabs it, questioning you for a second before matt walks over and shows him to place it on his bruised and red raw knuckles.

the room is filled with tension.

matt is biting his nails, you're leaning against the closed door, and nick finds himself squatting on the floor.

"what the actual fuck was that?" nick is too stunned to even yell, he just speaks aloud.

"i asked you not to, chris. i could have handled it myself." you shake your head, vision blurry as you stare vacantly ahead. you want to lash out at him, but for some reason you can't.

"yeah, it really looked like you had it under control." he crushes the frozen packet harshly against his hand.

"we'll leave you two alone." matt cuts through awkwardly, shooting nick a warning glare.

matt knows it's not his place to go off at chris right now. he'll do that later.

"but-" nick begins, and matt snaps toward the door. you hear nick sigh, knowing he would love nothing more than to stay and listen to you tear into chris. alas, they both leave promptly, matt flashing you a sympathetic smile on the way out.

you can hear from the other side of the door, both nick and matt are hustling trying to kick everyone out. it’s a weight lifted off your shoulders. the literal mess being left behind is the least of your worries now.

you're alone with chris in the kitchen again, the second time not being anymore pleasant than the first. you blame yourself fully for dropping your guard, even if for a second.

“i begged you not to, chris.” you repeat with a stern tone, laced with betrayal and genuine hurt.

he’s silent for a moment, staring at you from across the room with no emotion on his face. you know he feels terrible, he doesn’t have to show it. or tell you.

“did you think i was just gonna stand and watch?” he rebuttals.

“i would have preferred that, honestly.” you don’t understand how he can’t grasp the intensity of the situation.

"did you want him? go back out there then." he's bitter, pointing at the door. you roll your eyes, shaking your head in disbelief.

"chris," you start. he keeps talking.

“because i’m sure he’s still laying on the floor. go ahead. he might have a hard time talking now, though.” chris shrugs, speaking in a provoking manner.

“you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t press charges." you apprise.

“he should feel lucky i didn’t do worse.” he takes another step toward you, presumptuous in the way he carries himself.

"you've done a lot of stupid shit, chris. but that," you raise your hand as you speak, laughing in shock.

"that was unbelievable." you pinch the bridge of your nose, taking yet another deep breath.

"you know what's unbelievable is how you haven't even thanked me once" he ignores your words and bites back with irritation, face growing more twisted with upset.

"thank you?" you repeat, jaw dropping. you step toward him this time. you feel dejected trying to get him to understand.

"thank you for what? for causing a scene? for putting yourself in danger?" you step forward again, feeling like you could drive your heels into the ground beneath you.

"you're acting insane" he brings his hands to his head, tugging at his own hair with despair. his words sting, despite the back and forth arguing.

"you're the one that lashed out on that guy with no consideration for anyone else around you. that's insane" you speak with physical gestures unconsciously.

you're trying to reason with him, but with the state he's in, it's like trying to put a brain in a statue. you examine him, trying to search for his eyes but his body won't keep still, twisting and moving around.

"fuck, okay, i get it! i get it, y/n. you're not happy with me. you never fucking are apparently," his words trail off and he waves you away, turning his back to you. he sounds desperate for it to end.

you want to scream at him at the top of your lungs, and quite frankly, you could. your face burns and steam is about to shoot out of your ears.

"you don't need to protect me anymore, chris."

"i saved your ass out there." he speaks with his hand, four fingers direct to your chest. his words are like salt being rubbed into an open wound.

"saved me? that's a fucking stretch. your brothers saved your ass, because you don't think before you fucking act!"

"this is about YOU, y/n! what i did for you!" he slaps the back of right hand into the palm of his left.

"i'm not some damsel in distress that you need to sweep up and put in a tower, chris"

"yeah well at least in a tower you can't attract trouble." he speaks as if it's your fault, and of all the things he's just spit out, that's by far the worst. the most menacing and cut to the bone tone he's used.

"that was low, even for you." you huff, emotions at an all time high.

your breathing feels tight, but instead of reacting, you force yourself to seperate your emotions from the reality of the situation. you're both feeling very intensely, and expressing it the same way.

in hindsight, you could have redirected some of your emotions, but you also wish chris would take back some things he's said. there's no excuses.

chris re-collects himself and turns toward you again. he shrugs his shoulders, like he has nothing left to say. no fight left.

the closer chris is standing the more prominent his face is, and more specifically, his busted open lip.

you gasp in a mix of being upset, and shock. it feels like a piece of your heart is breaking off, seeing his delicate, pale skin so sore.

"your lip, chris." you exhale, stepping toward him.

he flinches when your hand raises to touch his face, and you know now that you've acknowledged it, it's hurting him. neither of you paid any attention to it amongst the turmoil.

"come here." you sigh, pulling his arm, bringing him over to where the paper towels are, in the corner of the sink.

tearing a white square into your hands, you rinse it under cold water lightly before squeezing the saturation out, leaving a damp cloth in your hand.

turning into chris's body, he looks down at you. he's still at last, and looks like he has no thoughts behind his now seemingly innocent eyes.

you cup his cheek gently, to turn his face downward. you bring the towel up to his lip, wiping his stained chin and mouth. he lets you, and doesn't even wince. he visibly gives into your touch. he's content.

"i need you to promise me you'll never do something like that again." you pull back, folding over a clean side and then wiping his lip softly, trying not to cause him pain.

"i can't promise that." he speaks in a whisper, as if he doesn't want you to hear his word.

with his lip no longer being red, you toss the damp and crumbling paper into sink, making it a problem for another time.

"why?" you look into his eyes, wiping your hands on your shirt.

his blue eyes are big but blameless, pupils dilated. holding his stare as your arm lowers.

"because if anyone lays a hand on you again, i'm going to prison for life." the piece of your heart that broke off earlier reattaches at his words alone.

chris's much shorter hair is spikey around his ears, and wet at the ends, turning dark brown from his sweat. you caress his messy curls, tucking it over the curves of his ears and taming the wispy strands. you hold his head in your hands, tiling him up and your mouths are inches apart.

"how hard did he hit your head?" you ask against his lips. he chuckles, genuinely.

he's an idiot, undeniably. but the gut wrenching, lawless love he has for you makes him that way. his low, smooth laughter, makes your heart skip a beat.

"i mean it, y/n."

"but i know, i know it was stupid." he admits.

"yeah, it was." you agree, shaking his head around slightly.

he grabs your hands with his own, engulfing them and holding them in his palms. he squeezes your hands, bringing them to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"i'm sorry." he speaks on your skin.

"like really fucking sorry." he strains his head back with remorse, making his adam's apple more prominent, and he swallows hard. like he's swallowing his guilt.

"i said some nasty things. i wish i could take them back, y/n. i really do."

"i know, chris."

"no, you don't. i'll apologise to you everyday for the rest of my life if i have to. i've been horrible tonight."

"chris, enough," you hush him, the calmness in your tone making him understand you hear him. loud and clear. you need some time to forgive, but you absorb his words.

"i don't know how you didn't smack me in the mouth." he jokes, and you giggle through your breath.

"there's still time," you joke back. and he knows it by your tone.

"i could never bring myself to do that. as much as you deserve it." your banter eases the pressure, and you feel chris squeeze your hands in his again.

you rub your thumbs over his knuckles, looking at the little purple marks forming. he notices your face drop with stress, and he slips his hands away, moving to your hips instead.

"hey, i'm fine. i don't care what happens to me, i just need you to be okay."

"i am okay," you reply. he drops his face with a look that expresses he doesn’t believe you. you give a light eyeroll, and small smile.

"i mean it, i swear.” you raise your pinkie finger to him, to keep your promise. knowing it’s the only way he’ll actually believe you.

chris smiles, weak with his bruised lip, and wraps up your pinkie with his own, wriggling your hands around.

"i'm always gonna want to protect you." he pulls you toward his body. he's so warm, and radiates a magnetic energy that makes you want to collapse into his arms.

you know you don't need him to, but deep down, you would like his protection. his unconditional love. selflessness.

"i'll be sure to send you love letters in jail" you grin up at him, and laughs from the chest.

his voice is like a scratched record, fatigue taking over his body. you swallow hard, all of your senses coming back. he feels so real standing in front of you all of a sudden, like it's not just a dream you're about to wake up from.

"stay the night." you speak mindlessly.

chris brushes your hair from your face, cupping the back of your neck lightly to pull your forehead to his lips, kissing just above your eyebrows gently. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, pulling you tight to his chest in an embrace.

"i'll stay forever if you ask me to."

this is the feeling he fights for. requited love.

[moonstruckme]

hellooo!! hope you’re doing well! So in my city whenever a drop of rain falls it’s immediately chaos, people drive worse than ever and lots of floodings happen. Today was especially rough as it was raining really bad, I got out of class at 4;30 and got home at 7, a trip that usually lasts around 20-40 min depending on traffic. I was stuck in traffic and was low on gas, the fastest way to get to a gas station was through a flooded road, though many were driving through it, it was still so scary. Literally called my mom, almost crying, not knowing if I could cross the road. Thankfully, i did cross it, praying to whatever that heard me the entire way. Got home absolutely exhausted, cramped and menstruating😆

Sooo the point is if you could do this but with poly!marauders? Where reader calls one of them up crying and they can only help her through the phone, need the angst with comfort. Tsym!!

Ugh sorry lovely, glad it worked out okay! Thank you for requesting

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 702 words

“Hello?” 

“Ask her what’s taking so long,” says Sirius, leaning towards where James sits sprawled across the loveseat and dragging Remus with him by consequence. Sirius’ cartilage piercing is infected again, and Remus has finally resorted to trapping both of his hands in his to keep him from touching it. Sirius seems to feel alternately pleased and as though he’s being held prisoner. He shouts towards the phone, “Rem won’t heat dinner without you, and I’m starving!” 

James cups the speaker protectively, cradling the phone close to his ear. “Hey, lovie,” he says, voice soft enough that the other boys both still. “What’s going on?” 

A muffled voice on the other end of the line. James’ brow pinches. 

“Alright, that’s okay. You’re okay, right? Are you somewhere safe?” 

Remus’ chest tightens. 

“Put her on speaker,” says Sirius, mouthing at first, then louder, until his voice is a shrill whisper. “Put her on speaker, James.” 

“Angel, give me just a second, okay? I’m gonna put you on speaker.” James pulls the phone away from his face, whispering hurriedly to the others. “Her tire blew on the motorway.” He clicks a button. 

“Hey, baby.” Remus can hear your stuttering breaths through the speaker, a forewarning that you’re holding back tears, and Sirius’ desperate tone is a match for them. “Are you okay?” 

Remus strokes his thumb over his boyfriend’s hand. Settle down. 

“I’m fine.” It’s a relief to hear your voice, though it reaffirms Remus’ fears, thick and slightly tremulous. “I, um, my tire blew and the car kind of went out of control, so I panicked and ended up pulling off in the shoulder of the fast lane. I keep thinking people are going to hit me.” 

Remus leans towards the phone, ignoring the twinge in his chest and summoning his surest tone. “Nobody’s going to hit you. Just keep your hazards on, they’ll go around you.” He glances outside. It’s not dark yet, but it’s getting there. “Do we still have the spare tire in the trunk?” 

“Um, I think so? I’m not sure. I’m a little bit scared to get out and check.” 

“We should go,” Sirius whispers. 

“How?” Remus asks, not unsympathetically. “She has the car, love. We can’t very well walk there.” 

“There’s no rush,” James says to you. His light tone is at odds with his terse expression, fingers wrapped tight around his phone. “You can go look for it when you feel ready.” 

Suddenly, they can hear the sounds of the motorway through the phone. You must have put them on speaker, too. Remus can picture you in the car, setting your phone in the cupholder and pulling your legs up onto your seat. When you speak, it sounds muffled, as though your voice is coming from behind your hands. “I’m really sorry. You guys should eat dinner, I think I’m going to be awhile.” 

Sirius makes a distressed sound in the back of his throat. “Hey, I was just fucking around about dinner, babydoll. Don’t worry about that. We’re all okay, yeah?”

“Okay.” You sound close to tears. 

“Sweetheart,” Remus interjects, “can you take a deep breath for me? Just take a second.” 

There’s a thick pause, the sound of your breath crackling through the speaker. Remus does it with you, trying to relax the tension in his own chest. He notices James’ shoulders drooping on your exhale, too.

“Thank you,” Remus says softly. “You’re fine, yeah? You can handle this.” 

“Yeah.” You sound frail, but better. “Sorry.” 

“What for, my love?” James asks lightly. “Seems like luck just wasn’t on your side this time, s’got nothing to do with you. Listen, I’ll talk you through changing the tire in case there’s anything you forgot, and then we can worry about you merging back on when it comes to that. There’s no rush, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, more sure now. “Thank you. You’ll all stay on the line with me?” 

“Where else would we be, sweetness?” Sirius teases. “I always love talking to you, you know that.” 

Remus lifts Sirius' hands to his face, kissing them with a smile on his lips. For all the worry thickening the air in the room, the love is thicker.

[tojipie]

ma’am you mentioned slipping a guard a wad of cash for a quick closet fuck in your story so like…how often did prison toji have to bribe the guards? 😅

prison boyfriend toji series linked here <3

content: semi-public, intimidation, mentions of incarceration, facials

custodial wing at 11:30

that’s what he’d whispered to you before you parted during your day visit, hand reaching under the hem of your shirt to trace shapes into the curve of your spine.

you didn’t need to ask questions knowing how often the two of you pulled this off. if the state wouldn’t grant you two conjugal visits on account of you not being married.. then you’d just have to make your own. 

getting started wasn’t a challenge in the slightest knowing entry-level guards melted like putty once a little stipend was involved. money was everything in this system, and toji had left you a lot of money.

once every two months was the deal. frequent enough that you’d both get your fill of each other outside supervised visits, but not so often as to draw suspicion. 

naturally, you make a beeline to your destination as soon visiting hours come to a close, mumbling something about needing the bathroom to a clearly peeved officer at the front desk. 

toji comes into view just at the end of the hall, facing away from you. you realize his body is obstructing another person as you you near, bits of their conversation floating in and out. 

“you really should be in your cell fushiguro...”

“just wait till’ she gets here before you do something stupid.. christ.”

you pause just beside toji, peering over at the navy blue-clad stranger in front of you. 

“where’s..” you trail off, eyes flitting between the two men. great, your regular officer wasn’t on duty today. a fucking warning might have been nice. 

the new guard is probably half your boyfriend’s size—and age, not a firm bone in his body by the looks of it. if he did, you figure toji would already be in solitary for sneaking out of his cell. your shoulders relax at the realization. at least this guy wasn’t a threat. 

the inmate shoots you a knowing smile, sly as ever despite the high-stakes situation. you quickly move to rustle through your pockets at the sight of his outstretched palm, placing a wad of cash in his hand.

“why don’t we give our pal a little gift, hm?” toji coos, holding the money up between two fingers and shaking it like a dog treat. “wanna give me an hour with my girl?”

the guard frowns, looking around cautiously.

“we’re not really supposed to take bribes…”

the fake smile on toji’s face falters. “fuck does that mean?” he says in disbelief.

“well honestly, it means that i’m going to have to report this.” the younger man says, reaching for his walkie-talkie to alert the rest of the security team. 

“are you stupid?” toji seethes. sizing the smaller man up. regret instantly washes over the the guard’s face, eyes blowing impossibly wide as he’s backed up against the wall.

“no sir— I mean— i’m sorry!” a tattooed fist slams against the concrete, dangerously close to his face. 

“i could kill you right now. could snap your neck and keep you in that closet over there,” he whispers, jutting his thumb behind him. you know there’s no real intent behind his words, toji simply wasn’t that cruel. 

the paralyzed guard cowers at the threat, taking the two of you by surprise as a wet spot grows on the front of his pants. gross.

“you gonna piss your pants every time a real man speaks to you? huh?” he barks, laughing at the younger man’s misfortune. 

“no no no please,” the guard babbles, motioning toward the closet. “i’ll keep watch i promise, i— i don’t even need the money i’m sorry.”

“good cause you weren’t getting it,” toji sneers, pocketing the cash before picking you up bridal style. 

“that was mean,” you whisper, oddly impressed at the inmate’s intimidation skills.

“yeah? you like when i’m mean?” he mutters jokingly, hands already squeezing the curve of your ass from where his palms are holding your body up. the contact makes you shudder, sending bolts of electricity right to your core.

you loved seeing him like this, as sick as it was. possessive, short-tempered, commanding. it all made your knees weak. 

you find yourself propped up against the door of the closet moments later, held up by his hands as he wastes no time, leaning in to mouth at the curve of your neck. 

the way he maneuvers you without so much as a sigh only stokes the flames deep in your core. toji’s strength was something to behold, an absolute marvel.

the closet is dim, lit by a pull-string bulb older than the two of you combined. you’re so close that you don’t know where your body ends and his starts, making it seem like there’s not enough air for the both of you. 

you reach down with one hand, keeping the other on his shoulder for balance. deft fingers work up the scratchy fabric of his brown uniform, exposing his abs with a hum.

fuck, he was getting bigger, muscles chiseling deeper and deeper as each day went by. the barest hint of black ink peeks just under the hem of his shirt, grabbing your attention for just a moment.

“lift it up angel,” he rasps, mouth still working at the thin skin of your collarbones. purple blood vessels bloom under his lips, the trail of hickeys growing larger by the minute.

the inmate helps you strip his upper half, lips detaching from your body with a sly smile.

“toji, oh my god,” you gasp, running a careful hand over the barely healed tattoo. 

“didn’t want you to see till’ it was finished,” he explains, grinding the hard length of his cock against your clothed core. 

toji hadn’t taken his shirt off the last two times you’d snuck off together, opting fuck you through three orgasms with his pants around his knees, showing off the barest hint of his happy trail. 

you figured it was for the sake of saving time, a precautionary measure in case your situation was compromised. naturally, there was a much deeper reason behind it.

delicate swirled letters brand your name across his ribs, etched into tanned skin amid a background of black and grey mist. the skin around the edge is still pink and delicate. blushed by the spike of a needle over, and over, and over.

god.. how did he even get this done? and so well at that? the things he manages to achieve even while serving time never fail to blow you away.

you hadn’t even realized he’d stopped grinding into you, his palm just barely cradling your face.

“you okay?” he says it so gently, like you’ll break. 

“it’s perfect,” you tell him, basking in the shy smile he gives you. scarred lips finally meet yours, setting you down on the floor of the closet to shimmy your skirt down. toji pulls away with an audible hum, tapping the inside of your calf to get you to open your legs wider.

the inmate wastes no time, hooking a thumb under the fabric covering your heat, and pulling your panties to the side. you feel his hulking body drop to a knee in the dim light, running thick hands up the soft skin of your calves before pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. 

“beautiful,” he whispers, though the stars that dance across your vision keep you wondering if he’s talking about you, or your pussy. 

and then your thoughts come to a screeching halt as a warm, dexterous tongue licks up the length of your slit. the noise he makes is obscene, desperate, groaning low in his chest as he tastes you for the first time in months. 

you nearly forgot how good it feels to be taken like this, struggling to maintain your balance as toji laps at your hole, two hands settling on your knees should they decide to buckle. 

“tastes so fucking good,” 

he says it directly into your heat, shooting vibrations straight into your core. warm velvet sneaks up to lap at your sensitive bud, tracing hot, wet circles in the spot that matters most.

you peek down just enough to see him free his cock from his boxers. two fingers swipe through your heat, using your slick to ease the slide of his hand along his shaft. 

it’s filthy, the way he’s always been so readily able to shift how he acts around you. cold, unforgiving hands turning into warm fingers that bring you nothing but pleasure. 

you’re the only one who sees him like this— who will ever see him like this. on his knees in the back of a cramped closet, making love to your cunt like a man starved. 

the feeling of your approaching high rips you from your thoughts, hands tangling into his mess of raven hair.

“gonna cum,” you whine, pushing at his forehead to get his face away from your clit. the tiniest bit of relief floods your core as he pulls away, his mouth and chin dripping with slick. 

“turn around.”

you haven’t even fully pressed yourself against the door before the blunt head of his cock is sliding into your entrance, filling you to the brim in one fluid motion.

toji takes a second to palm at the flesh of your ass, humming in appreciation as you adjust to his size.

“please,” you groan, “please just fuck me toji, please.”

the inmate pauses, slipping a hand under the hem of your shirt to play with your tits.

“should i?” he whispers, groaning as you clench down on his length.

frustrated, you push your hips back into his shaft, swallowing him over and over while harsh pants ring out behind you. large hands squeeze around your waist to stall your movements, giving him space to rut into you like you need.

the feeling is seismic, explosive. sending you right over the edge and into the abyss as black streaks over your vision. you don’t think you’ve ever been fucked this good before, taking deep, thorough gulps of air as you’re humped and rutted into against the fragile wood of the closet door.

large fingers wrap around your wrist and pin your arm behind you as you reach down to toy with yourself.

“like this,” he tells you. the implications clear as day.

cum on his cock or don’t cum at all. 

and cum you do, shuddering as you flood yourself between your legs. his pace doesn’t let up for a single second, bucking up into that special spot over and over.

“knees,” he commands, tone as urgent as ever. “fuck, get on your knees.”

you don’t have to be told twice, sinking to the floor to face him as he pulls out of you.

“open baby, open up for me.” the noise his hand makes while her jerks himself off is absolutely debilitating.

you tiredly rest your cheek just under the jut of his hip bone, pressing soft kisses under the far edge of his tattoo. the aftershocks of your high leave you breathless as thick spurts of seed cover the left half of your face. 

toji takes you by the face and holds you in front of him, fingers squishing your lips into a pout as he paints your face with the last of his load.

“there we go, there we go, eat it for me,” he pants from above you, chest heaving from the force of his orgasm. you gather as much as you can with your tongue, letting him thumb the rest into your mouth.

“beautiful,” he says, letting you clean off his fingers with your tongue. and this time you’re sure that he’s talking about you, his girl. his everything.

taglist ! 🏷️

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[multifandomlover01]

Not Technically Mine…But Still Unequivocally Mine

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (not AFAB specific)

WC: ~2.9k

Warnings: reader is undercover bait, very scummy suspect, very uncomfy situation and dialogue, touching, Spencer is concerned for her safety, biological male reaction mention, strangulation mention but not depicted, the b word is used to describe the reader, he spits on her too

Summary: (based off a post by @hereforhalstead and fic semi-requested by @ribbongrll) Reader has to go undercover as bait to lure in a suspect, and Spencer is not happy about it. He’s very protective and almost caused the mission to not be completed

Note: I envisioned post prison Spencer for this so it’s like S13-15 (JJ and Luke are in here), also third person and idk what’s happening with the tenses. Also a bit repetitive? Bit annoying?

Spencer absolutely fucking hated it whenever he had to be in a club or a bar for a case. It didn’t matter how much time he had to spend in the building. He got anxious and overstimulated very quickly. The only thing that made it worse was when some guy flirted with his equally as anxious female coworker (who was also his best friend who he was also in love with). Every time a guy would flirt with her while she just stood there, uncomfortable and silent, his heart broke. He’d glare at the guy and if he still didn’t take that hint, say something. Luckily, this usually took care of any further interaction.

Apparently the only thing worse than some guy flirting with his best friend/crush was her being bait for a suspect. She was his exact type, physically speaking and personality wise. Spencer almost immediately objected when he saw the form fitting and revealing dress that JJ had helped her pick out. But he doubted he’d be able to convince Prentiss and Rossi to ditch the plan. It was the best one they had. At least Spencer got to go undercover with her as her date…although he didn’t know if this actually would make the situation better or worse.

He didn’t even notice that his hand was brushing against hers the whole ride. He also didn’t notice that he was sweating a little bit.

“You’d better not do that in the club…you’ll give us away.” She teases and he doesn’t know what she’s talking about until he is suddenly physically aware of the perspiration.

He chuckles. “I won’t. Don’t worry.” He takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabs his face and neck.

They arrive at the club. He gets out of the vehicle and helps her out. He suppressed a groan when she tugs on her dress to futilely get it to cover more of her thighs. He gingerly grasps her hand and leads her inside.

“Remember…be your shy sweet self but not too reserved and reluctant because we need-”

“The suspect outside, yes, I know, Spence. We’ll be ok.” She chuckles as she looks at him.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.” He frowns.

“You think I want to get hurt.” She furrows her eyebrows.

“Of course not.” He shakes his head, smiling some. “But it’s my job to protect you and…I don’t wanna fail.”

“I have to let him get me outside, isolated and alone so that JJ and Luke can apprehend him. You can’t protect me once I’m on my own with him.” She states what he was trying not to think about. She was right, though, of course.

“Just…be careful, ok?” He squeezed her hand.

“I will, don’t worry.” She squeezed his back. “Hey, I’ve done better for longer on my field training that you have, remember?”

“I remember when you had to help me pass my test to still be qualified to carry a gun and be in the field.”

“And now you don’t even need my help. You’ve gotten better and I’m proud of you. There’s always room for improvement…even for me. I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Spencer still wasn’t sure about this whole situation as they took a seat at the bar at the club. There was only one seat available. Spencer thought about letting her take it as the lady while he stood but then an idea he liked struck him. He sat down on the bar stool, took a hold of her waist and hoisted her up into his lap. He held her tightly to him as he had his arms wrapped around her waist.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, slightly confused by his behavior.

“I’m your date. I’m being…friendly.”

“That’s not why.” She huffs slightly.

“Alright…I’m protecting you, then.” His breath tickles her ear.

“Do I have to be in your lap?”

“I would say that…yes, you do.” He said rather definitively.

They ordered drinks (he made sure to order her a virgin cocktail so she had no actual alcohol in her system, not only was this regulation for an undercover agent, but he knew the last thing he wanted was for her cognition to not be at 100%). They sipped their drinks as she remained in his lap.

Spencer remained vigilant to his surroundings when she had to be more subtle about it to maintain her “oblivious” undercover role. He was grateful that it made sense for a girl’s date to want to ward off any potential girl stealers. He was not so grateful that the suspect did not care about that (even if the whole point of being bait and undercover as a couple was to lure him in to apprehend him).

It didn’t escape her notice that he’d tighten his grip around her whenever any guy got particularly physically close to her for whatever reason (even if it was as innocuous as standing beside her at the bar to order drinks) even if they didn’t even glance at her, let alone talk to her.

“You can relax some, you know. The suspect is going to be much bolder. You don’t have to spike your poor heart rate over every little thing.”

“I care about you. I won’t have you getting hurt.”

“We went over this. I’m perfectly capable of-”

“I know, I know you are, ok? It’s not…it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s-”

“Excuse me…” An overly charming and soft voice says, cutting Spencer off.

Their eyes immediately flit over to the man that had suddenly appeared. Spencer’s blood runs cold when he realizes that this is the man that matches the descriptions that the bartenders and patrons had given.

Spencer tenses, gripping her hips tightly as he holds her to him.

“I was just at that table over there and couldn’t help notice this…vision of loveliness right here.” He smiles as his hand rests on her knee. She cringes. Spencer’s blood boils.

“Don’t touch her.” He says in a dangerously low tone.

“Oh come on…I’m not gonna hurt the little lady. I’m merely…admiring her.” He steps ever so closer.

“Back off.” Spencer says, or rather…he grits it out. His grip on her hips tightens and she’s starting to wonder if they’ll bruise if he grips any tighter or if he does so for long.

“Oh come on…don’t be such a hard ass. What do you say, darling? How’s about…you and I…ditch this guy and I’ll show you a real good time.” Spencer wishes he could punch that stupid smirk off his face and break his hand as it slides further up her thigh. She’s squirming in his lap, pressing back into him (which doesn’t help another situation).

“You won’t. She’s clearly uncomfortable. You should take a hint and piss off.”

While she is in actuality very uncomfortable around this man, she knows she needs to get him outside.

“Well I…” She forces herself to scoot a bit off of Spencer’s lap and closer to the man. Spencer doesn’t loosen the grip on her hips and pulls her back against him.

“See? The lady here does seem interested.” His smirk hasn’t disappeared as his fingers are now at the hem of her dress.

Spencer has to fight between his instinct to get her as far away from this man as possible and his recognition of the mission. He just glares at the man. Reluctantly, he keeps his mouth shut.

“That’s it…listen to your girl here. Come on, honey. He seems like a real fun guy but…I promise to show you a night you’ll never forget. You’ll feel things you’ve never felt before.”

She scoots off Spencer’s lap a bit and he reluctantly loosens his grip. The man wastes no time sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him. She lets him lead her away. Spencer’s knuckles turn white against the bar counter as he sees the bastard caress her and then sees his hand move lower and squeeze her ass.

He just prays that she can keep herself safe with her training. She couldn’t wear a wire or anything. But he had one to inform JJ and Luke that they were on their way out to them. All he had to do was wait. He heard the confirmation that they’d made it outside and had been spotted by the agents placed there in the alley.

“Guys…tell me what’s going on.” Spencer murmurs into the mic.

“She’s fine. Just sit tight, Spence.” JJ tries to calm him down. It doesn’t work.

“Don’t tell me to just sit tight, JJ. I…I can’t just sit tight knowing she’s out there with that monster. You’ve got eyes on her. Please tell me she’s ok.” Spencer says pleadingly.

“She’s handling herself, man, ok? She’s capable.” Luke now tries to assuage Spencer’s fears. This also is not successful.

“That’s also not what I asked, Luke.”

Spencer hears Luke sigh. “He’s got her up against the alley wall, ok?”

“Well what’s he doing to her?”

“Spence-”

“What’s he doing?” Spencer insisted.

“Well he’s…fondling her…kissing her neck.”

“Jesus Christ…when are you guys gonna apprehend him? What if he hurts her?” Spencer is starting to get very concerned.

“We have to wait.”

“For what?! For him to strangle her?!”

“We need to wait until there is probable cause for an arrest. She’ll fend him off and he’ll push too far.”

“But how far? Does her dress have to be ripped? Does she have to be humiliated coming back in here?” Spencer was getting angry at his friends. They knew how much he cared about her. He didn’t often get like this.

“Just another minute or so, then we’ll go, ok?” Luke says, hoping again that this’ll calm him.

“Ok…only that…no longer. You can’t leave her with him for longer than that. Please…please protect her.” Spencer says softly.

“We will, Spence. We promise.”

“Thank you.” He sighs in relief.

It is indeed only another minute or two before go time, with JJ and Luke revealing themselves to the suspect. He is startled when two FBI agents with guns come out of the shadows. But before he can get angry and lash out at them, he turns that anger towards his potential victim.

“You…bitch!” He seethes, spitting in her face, causing her to gasp. This causes Luke to push him against the wall as he handcuffs him.

“Alright. That’s enough, buddy. We’re taking you in now.”

“You set me up? This was a set up?! I didn’t do anything! You pigs set me up!” He yells as Luke wrestled him over and into a squad car down at the end of the alley.

JJ comforts her briefly as she stands shaking slightly against the wall.

“Go back inside. Spence is quite anxious to see you.”

She chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

She wanders back inside the club, tugging her dress to get it back in place, wiping her smudged lipstick off, wiping the spit off as well.

Spencer is out of his seat like a rocket and bounding towards her the second he sees her enter the door she’d exited out of. He doesn’t say anything as he engulfs her in a tight embrace.

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” He whispered softly in her ear.

“I’m always ok.”

“You don’t have to be. It’s ok to not be ok.” He caressed her back.

“I know. But I’m ok.”

“What if…what if I’m not?” He holds her tightly to him. He buried his face in her neck.

“Why would you…not be ok? I’m…I’m fine.”

“You don’t understand, hon. This whole thing…has been near torturous for me. Watching that man…talk to you…flirt with you…touch you and knowing he was…” He’s shaking now and he doesn’t even realize it.

She caresses his back. “Hey…hey…it’s ok. I’m ok. It’s all over now.” She whispered softly.

“I just didn’t want you to get hurt. If that monster had hurt you…”

“Why don’t we get out of here, huh? I think we should go.”

“Fucking finally.” He groans as he wraps an arm around her waist and swiftly makes his way with her to the front exit of the club. He takes a nice deep breath once he’s exposed to the cool night air. He didn’t even realize how suffocating that environment was to him.

He helps her back into the vehicle as it’s brought around and still keeps her close to him as they head to the hotel to decompress for the night.

Once in the calm peaceful safety of the hotel room, he grabs his sleepwear from his bag and then gets hers for her as well. She had retreated to the bathroom to remove her makeup and take the dress off. Spencer enters the bathroom without knocking. He gets an eyeful of his best friend in her underwear and his face turns red.

“Oh um…I’ll just…leave these here. Sorry.” He puts her sleep wear on the counter and turns quickly to leave, shutting the door behind him.

He changes outside the bathroom in the room, still very embarrassed about his faux pas. He should’ve knocked. He just had so much on his mind at that moment that he’d completely forgotten to do it.

He occupied himself with a book as he sat up on the bed. His head lifts when he hears the bathroom door open. As beautiful as she’d looked in that dress and makeup, she looked infinitely more comfortable in her sleep wear and with no makeup. And because she seemed so comfortable and relaxed now, she somehow seemed even more radiant to him.

“Hey.” He says softly as he smiles at her. “Feeling better?”

“Much better. Thank you.” She smiles back at him as she sits on her own bed.

He looks over at her as she gets her own book out to relax. She goes to put her earbuds in her ear and he stops her. He knows she’s going to listen to music.

“You don’t have to put those in. You can just…play it from the phone.”

She looks over at him. “Really? You’re sure? I dunno how you’re gonna feel about some of the music.”

“It’s fine. I’ll listen to whatever you wanna listen to.” He shrugged. He very much wanted to relax and listen to music together with her instead of it seeming like they were doing it separately.

“Ok. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.” She chuckles as she puts her earbuds away and turns the volume up on her phone to prepare to play her music.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“You say that now.” She smirks as she presses play.

Classical music starts to play.

“What do you mean you warned me? That’s just Mozart!” He exclaimed.

“For now.”

“Oh for now.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “What’s next…Wagner? Don’t get crazy now.”

“Oh you just wait, Reid…just you wait.”

“Don’t tell me you have Hans Zimmer on there. That’d be really crazy.” He joked.

“Something wrong with movie and tv soundtracks?”

“No, not at all! I love them too. I’m merely amused at what you consider crazy.”

His smile falls when metal music starts playing. She laughs at his confused expression.

“I told you I warned you!”

“Now I’m concerned about what you consider relaxing.” He raises his eyebrows.

“I can always put my earbuds in.” She offers, pointing to them.

“No…no. It’s fine. Then I’d just be concerned for your hearing.” He shakes his head.

“You’re awfully concerned about me a lot of the time.” She notes, pausing the music.

“Of course I am. You’re my best friend. I care about you.”

“Well yeah but…how much?” She queried.

“What do you mean?” He cocks his head.

She scoffs. “You know what I mean, genius. Now answer the question.”

“Well…um…I suppose that…the answer is…a lot.” His gaze is averted from her.

“Spencer…look at me please.” She requests softly.

He obeys and his gaze lifts to meet here. “Yes?” He asks softly.

“Enough to almost blow our chance of catching that scum?”

He chuckled sheepishly, remembering what he’d done. “Yeah…that much.”

She puts her book down and stands up, going over to his bed. He looks up at her as she stands in front of him. She smiles down at him as she reaches up to cup his face. He smiles back up at her, letting her touch him. He wasn’t bothered by her touch.

“You were really scared, weren’t you?” She asks softly.

“I was terrified.”

“Even though I can handle myself?”

“I know you can. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was…” he trails off and his gaze averts briefly.

“Yes?”

“I couldn’t rationalize it in my mind. I knew you could handle yourself but that didn’t seem to matter. I was still scared. I couldn’t calm down. All of my nerves were on edge.”

“But why? If you knew I’d be fine…why worry?”

“Because…I care about you…because…because I think I love you. No…that’s not…I-I know that I love you.”

“You love me? Really?” She smiles.

“Oh absolutely.” He smiled back. “I think I have for quite a while now, I just…I just didn’t know how to express that to you. I could never…find the right words.”

“You couldn’t find the right words?” She chuckles lightly.

“Believe it or not, no. But I’ve…I’ve never been very good at expressing my feelings.”

“Well…the great thing about feelings is…you don’t necessarily need words to express them.”

“You don’t?” He looked at her quizzically.

She shakes her head. “No. You don’t. Actions work just as well.”

“Act-”

She cuts him off for the first time ever by leaning down to kiss him softly. He smiles softly and presses into the kiss. He’s waited so long to feel her lips against his. And it’s just as wonderful as he imagined it would be.

[fanaticsnail]

Five Days

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 5,900+

Synopsis: Temperatures flaring between a marine and their prisoner brought the two of you to this moment. In charge of the former-admiral's prison transfer, the sweltering heat propels you to do something against protocol. You give in to your temptation, and allow him to give you what he threatened he would.

Themes: Aokiji Kuzan x f!reader, gendered terms used, mdni, 18+, smut, nsfw, inappropriate use of devil fruit, inappropriate use of seastone, coercion, swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, marine x pirate, enemies to enemies that fuck, kisses, subtle Dom!kuzan x Sub!reader, pet names used, summer temperatures, tipsy writing, temperature play, pirate!kuzan x marine!reader.

Notes: This fic is dedicated to a dear friend, @skullfacedlady who needed a reward for all her hard work in studying. I hope you enjoy your man like this, love. Come get him. This is a part of my October event, but I wanted to give Skullfacedlady a gift because I'm so proud of her.

The sweltering heat swelling the brig of the vessel stung and cracked your skin. The perspiration dripping beneath your marine hat did little to cool your face and body, especially due to the weight of your heavy uniform jacket. The remainder of the crew had made port, leaving you and another officer behind on the topdeck to keep guard of the ship in case there was an incident involving you and the detainee in their cell behind you.

As a lieutenant, prison duty was not your usual forte, yet it was your given task for the past five days. Drawing the short straw in the meeting with the other members of the crew had you seething: likely what had the temperature searing your veins with the slight simmer of rage. Standing with your back to the brig, you attempted to ignore the presence who continued to attempt to goad you into a verbal spat for the umpteenth time.

“Go on, little one,” the smooth voice calls from behind you, causing your lip to upturn in a twitched curl, “Take off your jacket. It’s hot out, and you don’t deserve to be more uncomfortable than you already are.”

Aokiji Kuzan, the admiral who served his severance to the marines in favor of joining Blackbeard’s crew, was a thorn in your bootheel the moment he stepped aboard. A fly buzzing in your ear would make for better company than the sweet-talking man in the cell. You were a marine, and he was a defector turned to piracy. These past five days, he had been pressing you with comments and flattery with a smoothness to his tone that you hadn’t experienced prior. Always balancing on the knife’s edge of being overly seductive, while a complete gentleman the next. It repulsed you, enticed you, agitated you, and aroused you. You hated it as much as you loved it, and that, in itself, drove you wild.

“The prisoner will refrain from speaking in the presence of a marine,” you offered monotonously to him in a practiced response, ignoring the trickle of sweat pasting your hair against the nape of your neck. The heat was bordering on unbearable now, the thick air stinging at your nostrils with the burn of the embers.

“Come on, honey,” he whispered softly, his tone almost harboring empathy, “It’s just you and me. I'm not gonna tell anybody, I promise-.”

“-You promise?” You cut him off, tilting your head towards him. Thankful for the shroud of your marine uniform cap, you were able to glare at him from beneath the shroud as you scorned him, “A promise from a pirate whispered through iron bars means very little to me. Especially from a deserter.”

“Ah, so that's it, then,” Kuzan nodded. His dark, tight curls now loosely framing his face with a wave-like bob to his motions. “You’re offended I renounced my orders and took to living for myself.” He chuckled, leaning back against the wooden hull of his cell with a cocky air to his tone.

Kuzan had long-since shrouded his heavy jacket, likely before the seastone shackles were placed on his wrists, halting his abilities. You were made vaguely aware of his powers, one of which was the ability to grow a prosthetic for his missing left leg from an element. He was exceptionally tall, far taller than you at full height. From his place sitting hunched against the cell wall, he could easily meet your breasts at his eye height.

Although his skin glistened with sweat from the heat, his demeanor was always cool and collected. The former admiral seemed to radiate a calm, and this agitated you to no end. The purse of his lips, the curl of that edge of his smile, the ease his eyes seemed to put you - all of those weighed heavily on you as the burning air entered your lungs and expanded your chest.

“Tell me what about it you're so offended by,” he quipped with that curious edge in his tone, “Let's put it to rest so you and I can really talk, officer.” Aokiji Kuzan took a moment to gaze at you. His eyes lazily drank you in with an almost entertained twinkle in his eye.

Turning your head back to face the wall in front of you, you took a deep breath to calm your nerves. His tone haunted you. That cool edge in the blistering heat did more damage to your already alight temper.

“I have nothing to say to you, oathbreaker,” you snarl viciously, your head upturning to add further emphasis to your attitude. “You will remember your place, and hold your tongue.” Expecting silence to be met with your order, you recoiled completely as he goaded you further.

“Why don't you come in here and hold it for me, marine.”

The way he spoke with such an air of confidence prompted you to completely meet your eyes against his. If you could strike him dead with your haki without causing a strike to your record, you would have done so in a heartbeat.

Before you had an opportunity to utter a word in rebuttal, he revealed his palms in surrender and fell his eyes to your feet in submission.

“Accept my apologies,” he uttered quickly, pausing only to take a heavy gulp of air through his lips. “It's hot, tempers flare, and I'm pissed off about the seastone. My devil fruit power would be useful right about now, and we'd both reap the benefits. Please,” he turned his eyes up, meeting them against yours with that honesty behind them that held you transfixed, “I didn't mean to offend you. I just-... I've been in here for a while, and it just seems to be getting hotter and hotter.”

You took a moment to search his eyes, your own forming an analysis regarding his demeanor. Kuzan meant every word, and you truly believed he meant no harm. In honesty, he had been a model prisoner through his entire ordeal. Well mannered, polite, and cooperative: Kuzan did not engage with any of the other guards in this manner.

In a sigh of good faith and understanding, you sigh through your nose before removing your heavy uniform jacket and cap, placing them on a mop handle reclining against the wall. Each button popped slowly, his eyes wandering over each one with interest.

“Apology accepted,” you crack a small smile, raking over your hair to remove it from your eyes and shake the sweat from it. “And it's not ‘officer’, it's ‘lieutenant’ to you. For those of us who still respect titles, you will uphold mine.”

Kuzan clicked his tongue in understanding before smiling at you. He drank you in as he would a cool glass of water, glistening with condensation from the ice melting within.

“Lieutenant,” he smirked at you, waving his hand against his forehead in a mock salute. You decided to match his energy, raising your own and uttering, “Severencer.”

Turning back around to face the wall, your jacket and hat removal now making you feel a little more at ease in the humidity in the brig. You continued staring vacantly in that silence, ignoring the pair of eyes that never leave your body for a moment.

Externally, Kuzan was doing just as you were: fighting off the heat as best as he could within the depths of the ship. But, likely unlike you, fighting off the heat of another kind.

He had never seen a woman as physically beautiful as you were before, and he is a connoisseur of women. Kuzan prides himself on loving women, appreciating them from afar, and hoping they would be as interested in him as he was in them. With you: the enemy on a vessel binding him for capture, wearing the very uniform he discarded to chase his own destiny; he was unbelievably angry.

You were so physically close, but unattainable by him. If he remained as a marine, and had you met under different circumstances, he may have had a chance of a different life with you. Kuzan calculated the statistical likelihood of having you in his arms after work, wailing for him in the thralls of ecstasy while he pleasured you, and the thought had heat pooling in his belly that rivaled the atmosphere surrounding the two of you.

Rivals bound to be enemies with one another: his end being met at the end of a rope with his legs helplessly dangling beneath him, likely a trial to hold him accountable first and made an example of. Would you be present? Would you even care? Those thoughts momentarily shrouded his mind before his eyes focussed on the curvature of your ass now more revealed without your uniform jacket.

If he was a man bound for death, he craved to have you near him, just once, in any capacity. Now he’d managed to convince you to remove one layer, how much more could he get away with before you stopped.

“Lieutenant?” he gently called to you, his voice holding an edge to it that felt like a purr, “May I trouble you for some water?”

Inhaling deeply, you clicked your neck in a rotation before turning around to face him once again. Your scowl had resettled on your face as you looked to the canister in the corner of the room.

“What’s wrong with the one over there?” you asked, curiosity momentarily piquing in your tone. His smile upturned dangerously, his full-lips goading you with the sinister smirk threatening to spill over.

“Evaporation,” he explained, gesturing to the vessel with his bound hands, “Tends to occur when it’s hot like this. Have you any to spare for a lowly defector?” Growling in response under your tone, you made to the other side of the cell and filled the jug left behind for those working security for the day.

Dunking the vessel into the barrel, you felt how physically warm the liquid was and scowled at it.

Noticing the expression on your face, Kuzan groaned below his breath. He could change it to make it cooler. He could change the entire room to make it cooler. He could think of a variety of things he could do with you to make the stay more bearable, but he held his tongue. Watching as you traveled over to his cell, he took a note of where the keys to his cuffs were on the ring you unhooked beside his cell door.

“Stay where you are, hands where I can see them at all times,” you stated in a low warning, “Make a move, and I will drink the entire container while you have no choice but to watch, you hear?”

“Yes ma’am,” he pursed his lips, revealing his palms beside his head with his knuckles scraping against the wood behind him, “I’ll be a good boy for you.”

Electing to ignore the connotations laced behind that comment, you took to the side of the cell and peered into the empty container to ensure it wasn't a trap before replenishing his supply with the fresh one from your jug. You both trailed one another with your eyes, the tension returning between you while the menial task was completed. Taking a moment to study him, you noticed how truly attractive he was. From his tall stature, to his dark curls, down his lengthy body, down to his remaining foot extended on the floor: Kuzan was incredibly handsome, and you hated how hot his gaze made you feel as it lingered on your body.

“Stop gawking at me like that,” you snarl at him, watching in the corner of your eye how high the jug raises the volume of the water. He continues to rake his eyes over your body: truly enjoying the display of flesh you’ve elected to reveal to him.

“Like what, lieutenant?” He slowly bats his eyelashes at you, tilting his head to the other side and pursing his lips innocently. Your glare hardens, your face falling stern and serious as you bore your eyes into him.

“Like I’m some meal to you.”

He chuckles at your choice of words, feasting on your body with each passing moment while shamelessly undressing you further with his eyes. Kuzan truly no longer cared whether you filled his water canister or not, opting to drink you in in lieu of water any day.

“Oh, lieutenant, you are a meal to me,” he uttered seductively in response, “And I haven't eaten this well in quite some time.”

Five days.

Five days of the heat swelling the room. Five days of being in close proximity of Aokiji Kuzan. Five days of tension between you rising. Five days of ensuring he remained alive and healthy for transport. Five days of thinking about him every night while you remained in your joined barracks with your fellow marines. Five days of being unable to release the tension pooling between your thighs to not be caught by your comrades.

Five days of tolerating his comments, his words, and the way he made you feel both validated and violated with his flirtatious comments aimed towards you.

“If I had my powers right now, I could cool you off,” he whispered huskily, his bottom jaw dropping as he gawked further, “Anything you wanted, baby. I would give you the world if you’d let me-.”

“-Stop it, prisoner,” you warned him, your temper teetering on the edge of your resolve, “Final warning.”

Chains rattling broke you from your simmering rage, his bound wrists rattling as he drew them down over his thighs. His lip curled high, both snarling and smiling at you with desire being the swelling embers behind his darkened eyes.

“Warning for what? I am offering you a reprieve from the heat,” he tilted his chin up, looking down through his eyelashes at you, “Remove my seastone, sweetness. Let me show you how good I can cool you off.”

Snapping, you discard the jug and allow it to roll to the floor, water tipping onto the wooden panels surrounding you. With all the strength you could muster, you gave in to your rage and approached him. Using your foot, you press it against his chest and shove him firmly back with your boot heel. Holding him firmly pinned against the wall behind him, you lean more pressure onto your leg and stoop lower.

Having the upper hand on a former admiral lasted for less than a heartbeat before he took his shackled wrists and nudged your foot easily away from his chest to fall beside his thigh. Given the position prior with your entire weight placed onto your foot, you fell unceremoniously onto his lap. Each leg easily took their place framing his thighs beneath yours, eyes now level.

There was no opportunity to scream, snarl, or growl a reprimand at him before his lips collided messily with your own. Groans and whimpers fell easily from his lips as he attempted to hold you flush against him with his bound hands. His kiss was lustful, passionate, and aggressive: his former cool-headedness all but fleeing him the longer his lips lingered on your flesh.

“Desserter-,” you snarl angrily into his lips, attempting to pull away from his hard kiss to no avail.

“-Kuzan,” he moaned into your mouth, tilting his chin and circling your face, “My name is Kuzan. Use it.” The short hair on his chin and upper lip grazed the skin of your face with his passionate exchange.

In lack of your better judgment, you had no choice but to whine into his lips as he ordered you. His admiralty tone still found purchase in your head and reverberated in your obedient marine soul. Temperatures finally flaring enough, you roughly grip his dark curls and yank them back. He released a gasped groan in response, his lips still attached firmly to yours as he didn’t fight the feeling of your hands laced in his hair.

“Take off my cuffs,” he barked at you, his chains rattling as he attempted to grip your thighs in heavy fistfuls, “Now.”

The way his words held your judgment in an anchor made you feel as if he was using some kind of haki to dominate you. You knew that wasn’t the case. The slick pool of arousal dampening your panties spoke in prologues to your neediness of him. Your fingers moved against their will, your mind screaming at you to think with anything other than your pussy as you drew your shaken hands to unclick his shackles: all the while his kiss pressed into your lips with vigor.

As soon as his seastone fell easily to the floor, you both pulled apart and took a moment to gauge the way the other was feeling.

You just unshackled a bound prisoner, simply because he had baited you with a few suggestive words. That suggestion led you to disobey a direct order and follow the way your emotions ran rather than to heed to your call as a marine and chastise him for poor behavior.

Kuzan knew he could run. He should use this time to escape now. Convincing a needy and repressed marine to unshackle him took a long time, but his charisma lucked out with you. He could push you aside, trap you within the cell, escape to claim his freedom with the nomadic lifestyle that came with piracy. But he couldn’t.

Not with the way your clothed pussy felt against his lap, and certainly not with the intensity the heat made the both of you feel.

That realization only met you both for the bat of a butterfly’s wing before he was on you again. Hungry lips swelling yours with the intensity of his bruising kiss, Kuzan pushed you onto your back on the warm floor. Your undershirt stuck to your skin with the sheen of sweat glistening in your skin, desire fueling your passions in the midst of the moment.

When his lips pried away from yours, kissing a hot trail down your neck, your skin began to tingle beneath his cool breath. The seastone now released from your prisoner’s wrists returned his devil fruit ability to him with full fruition. The tenth titanic captain of the Blackbeard pirates was cooling your skin beneath the intensity of his heated kisses. Each time he mouthed at a pinpoint of your body, the coolness shrouded your skin and shot relief to your soul.

“Kuzan,” you gasped his name as he mouthed at your pulse with the heavy neediness, “N-No marks, please-.”

“-I know, baby,” he whispered against you, moving down to mouth at your pale undershirt, “Nowhere visible above your uniform. I'm aware.” His possessive growl was ripped from his throat when his trail was halted by the material, “Remove this and give me something I can mark up. I want you.”

The air began to thin with his ability cooling the atmosphere around you both, but the thickness of passion between you continued to build in intensity. As you reached down and gently placed your shirt to the side, he hastily drew his hands to your belt and expertly unbuckled the fastenings with a few quick swipes. You gasped out a squeak in protest, but it was quickly stifled by his lips colliding with yours once more.

He used his body weight to stamp you to the floor as you shared breaths. As the heat of your needy exhales expelled from your lips, the cool vapors of his own replaced the ones you lost.

“Thankful we lost the cuffs?” he smiled against your lips before tearing them away and searing his eyes into your body. You curled your lip and bucked your hips up, trapping the back of his knee beneath your heel and switching positions. Pinning the prisoner beneath you, you glared down at him while circling your hands around his wrists.

“I'm regretting not chaining you down to this floor and riding your face until I'm satisfied,” you quip back at him. Left in your bra and panties, you felt his hands draw up and sneak his fingers beneath the hem and play with the flesh of your ass.

“I don't need chains for you to do that, baby,” he purred up at you darkly, “Take a seat, and I'll have you screaming for me.” He annuncified the statement by slapping your ass before molding the flesh beneath his hands.

You were unsure whether you should be offended at his words, or aroused further by them. He was your prisoner, you his guard, him an ex-marine admiral, you a lieutenant rising in the ranks. Weighing up the options, you quipped your head to the side and allowed passion to once again guide you.

Crawling up his long chest, you tugged your panties to the side and revealed your glistening pussy to him as to test how serious he was. Accepting your challenge, he gripped your thighs and immediately pressed you down onto his face and licked a fat stripe from your slit to your clit in one lengthy motion. You sucked in a silent scream when he continued to slowly and passionately collect your essence into his tongue without protest, romancing your core with each intentional glide of his skilled muscle.

“Kuzan,” you whined in a breathy gasp, causing him to chuckle up into you. His eyes never left your face as he used his hard grip on your much smaller body to rock your core against his face.

“That's it, pretty girl," he praised you, his hands disappearing beneath the material of your panties to press your body further against his lips. Muffling his words up at you, he continued, “Get off on your prisoner's face. Let me feel you.”

Given how pent up you had been watching over Kuzan for the past five days, the coil in your abdomen bound tight quickly. Stomach knit in heavy knots, your pussy fluttered against his lips and tongue and he mouthed at you. Alternating between latching onto your clit and swirling his tongue against it, before drawing his face down to fuck your needy cunt with his tongue while nosing at your clit, Kuzan’s eyes never left you.

You were gorgeous. Everything about you was gorgeous. From the curvature of your breasts, to the shape of your ass, to the partition of your lips, to the hue of your hair: he loved it all. And he hated that he did.

“More,” he growled up into you, “Give me more, lieutenant. Cum for me. Cum on my tongue.”

Focussing on your clit, he mouthed at the small bud while concentrating a small coolness onto you. The combination of the coolness of his devil fruit with the warmth of his tongue tipped you over that edge.

Dancing on the edge of ecstasy, one more rotation of his tongue around your clit and you were cumming hard on his face. Muscles of your stomach tensed and flexed as you rode through your high. His steady hands splayed on your ass cheeks as he guided you expertly through your release.

Just as you came down from your high, you were met with a crude shock to your large joy.

Ice bound your wrists and flung you to the wall behind you. Knees drawn up to your chest, black flush with the wall, he bound your body to the wood with his devil fruit. Your eyes rounded in shock, body still sensitive from riding through your bliss to process what was happening.

The prisoner bested you. He was going to escape, you were going to be punished for your insubordination, and your career was to be ruined. As he rose to his full stature, you had no choice but to watch as he dusted off his pants and produced a shard of ice to extend from his absent knee down to the floor.

You had released your prisoner, and after cumming so hard on his lips, he was going to leave you in your bra and panties against the wall for your superior to find.

Tearing your eyes away from his face and clenching them tightly shut, you felt shame wash over you like a cool bucket of water. Your body was still twitching in soft aftershocks as you heard the rustling of materials. Assuming he was donning his shirts and personal effects, you were shocked to feel his lips on your neck and bare chest flush with your own.

Your eyes reopened, quickly finding purchase on his thick curls as he hummed against your skin.

“Thought I'd leave you like this, didn't you?” he sighed against your skin, “No way, sweetness. Not when I haven't felt the way your pretty pussy wants so badly to take my cock. Nuh uh.”

“You-...?” Your breath was stolen from you as he dragged his cockhead against your sensitive entrance. His height at full stature was over nine feet tall, and the circumference of his cock was enough to have you whine as he rocked it against your panties.

“I know.” He nodded his head against your clit, “I'm big. But you can take me, can't you?” Tugging down your bra, he groaned in bliss as your breasts were freed from the shroud of the material.

The ice spread your legs, moving beneath the will of its master to hold them apart for him. He rocked his hips, against your clothes cunt, groaning as he did so. Ice cracked and swelled, dragging across your stomach and binding you to the wall. His lips traced down to your nipples: swirling, tugging, and releasing them with a taut pop.

“You want this, don't you?” Kuzan purred against your skin, “Tell me you want this. Big pirate making a little marine feel so helpless. Say it. Say ‘I want this, Kuzan’.” He drew his lips up to your neck once more, trailing a flurry of kisses towards your jaw while his ice toyed with the border of your nipples.

“Say it.”

“I want this, Kuzan.”

The words spilled from your lips before you could tell them not to. You were bewitched by him, possessed by a lust that you had never known. His smile was felt against your jaw as he drew his eyes up to meet yours. Tugging aside your panties once more, he lined up his cock with your entrance: soft beads of pearlescent precum beading in need at the slit.

“That's my girl.”

Those three words were all the warning he gave you before his lips bit and ravished yours. At the moment his rough kisses met with your lips, gasping and growling against your mouth: his cock softly rocked into your core. You whined desperately into his mouth as he pushed more of his cock inside to the ridge of his rim.

No matter how rough his kisses became, he was so careful with his cock pressing inside you. Kuzan knew how small you were in comparison to his stature, and he would never dream of injuring you in the thralls of passion. Although he was a pirate and you were a marine, he treated your body with the respect you deserved.

Five days of being close to you. Five days more for longing. Five days longer still for yearning. And five days longest for how many nights he fucked his fist to the thought of claiming you as his in the quiet of the night.

Finally passing that first ridge, your body took him like it was made for it. It was Kuzan’s turn to whimper into your neck, shuddering as he buried his face into your neck and cock into your pussy. Sinking down to half his length with little resistance, he became lost in the way your pussy sucked him in. Rocking against you, he gasped into your ear.

Eyes wide, you had never felt so full in your life. While he was your enemy, you had never felt a touch as gentle as his. He was so careful with his cock that you could take him, while he toyed with you with his devil fruit.

“Look down,” he whispered, “Look how deep you're taking me. How well you're taking a pirate's cock.” Doing as he ordered, you looked down and watched as his hips rocked in slow, languid thrusts. Cock disappearing within your cunt, you gasped out as you took him within you.

“Like being fucked by a filthy pirate?” He quipped, his cock sinking deeper, “Pretty marine getting her pussy destroyed by her prisoner. Come on, tell me you w-want m-more.”

His stutter gave out his hardened experior, his bliss truly being lost to him with each marriage of degradation and praise. He tried not to show how much he was enjoying this moment stolen with you.

As soon as he got you off once, he had no doubt he was going to flee from his cell and claim his freedom. But he was in love with the way you cried out for him. He was obsessed, consumed with longing for your release joining with his.

Sensing this dynamic shift while being bound to the wall, you decided to goad him into more.

“Does the filthy pirate want to show the marine who's boss?” you whispered against his ear, biting at the lobe and attempting to rock against him to the best of your restrained ability. “Does the filthy pirate want to fill his marine with his cum? Pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” he parrotted back, his hips snapping with more purpose, “Does this feel pathetic to you?” His pace increased, his desperation more tangible with each in-thrust.

Ice eclipsed both your nipples, only giving way when he dipped his lips down to roll your pebbled bud within his hot mouth to contradict the cold with the warmth. You mewled beneath his lips, your pussy fluttering beneath his harsh momentum.

Coil building further in your abdomen, you felt another orgasm approach you with a low build. Kuzan was nearing his peak, his cock already beginning to expel sticky waves of precum within your stomach. Kuzan was becoming sloppy with his movements, his balls sucking up into his stomach the closer he became to his release.

“Gonna cum, Kuzan?” Your question fled from your lips like a needy whine informing him you were reaching your end, “Gonna fill me up with your cum? Go on, pirate. Tarnish me. Ruin me.”

“Nnnnghh- fuck,” Kuzan growled into your neck, biting just below to collar to anchor himself to you, “Gonna cum. Gonna- fuck, I'm cumming. Ah-, shit.”

Ropes of viscous cum met with your cervix with his verbal confession, his hips rutting against your core and giving in to the feeling of your cunt fluttering around his shaft. As he met his peak, you met yours. Walls contracting around his shaft, you cried out for him while he filled you.

“Hhah- cumming,” you warned him, your pussy sucking him in with every wave of your secondary ecstasy. Milking him of his cum, your cunt squeezed his thick cock as you both met the waves of your highs in the arms of one another.

The dancing lights split your vision white, just as it did his own. You had never felt the way you did in the arms of this former admiral, nor did he buried deep within the pussy of a marine lieutenant. As you both finished, he slunk his head forward and collected you into his arms. Ice cracked like glass, the shards dropping to the ground and simmering like embers against the floorboards.

He ushered you onto the ground, sitting back on his calves and holding his cock deep within your pussy. Both panting and catching your breath, you sat within the shared breath with the man who ushered you into twin highs in close succession. Dwelling in the silence, your hearts beat as one as the heat dampened down between you both.

“You have a fifteen minute head start, former admiral,” you sighed, stroking his cheek with your palm. He blinked slowly at you, taking in your words while coming down from his high.

“What do you mean-?” He began, halting beneath your interruption.

“-It takes the average marine seven minutes to shake off haki,” you nodded, pressing your forehead against his and brushing your noses together, “You conquered me. I was helpless. Do you understand, pirate?”

Kuzan was taken aback, shaking his head and searching your eyes. You nodded against him, your smile slowly splitting up your cheeks.

“I conquered you?” he asked softly.

“Knocked me out completely,” you laughed in response. Gently pressing your lips to his forehead, you unsheathed his cock from your pussy and began to collect your things. “You have fifteen minutes to redress. Get to it before I catch you.”

“Catch me?”

You smiled as you gathered your uniform into your arms. Kuzan, the former admiral he was, was truly clueless when he was spent of his release. Balls and head both empty, he reached for you in craving of your touch.

“Kuzan,” you warned him, “You escaped your shackles after you found the strength to conquer me. You collected the keys, unbound yourself, and fled. You left me alive as witness to your escape.” Kuzan understood, nodding along as he came to terms with what you were expressing to him.

You were enemies. An ex-marine turned to piracy, and a marine in charge of his capture. Both of you knew how wrong this was, but your bodies couldn't help but to sing how right it could be. He could never give up his freedom for you, and you would never turn to piracy for him. No matter how your bodies felt together, and how easy the intimacy came to you both: you could never be together like this.

“Fifteen minutes?” He asked you, halting to cup your ass in his firm hands, “Is that all I'm worth to you?”

Rolling your eyes in response, you playfully slapped his arm while you scampered to find your uniform.

“You're lucky I gave you more than nine, pirate,” you snarl at him, “I gave you that extra six for making me cum twice.” Kuzan laughed, finding his effects and beginning to don them while you fixed your uniform up.

“I will see you again, lieutenant,” Kuzan whispered while fixing his belt at the waist, “And when I do, I am going to make you cum so hard you'll renounce your vows and join me in piracy.”

“And when I find you again,” you warn in return, “You're going to cry for me while I show you that quips and taunts are not all I can do with my tongue.”

Kuzan gulped, truly wanting to experience that thought while he shrugged on his heavy overcoat. You began affixing your coat once more to your persons, making sure each button was marine-issue ready. He watched on with a shudder to his jaw and a feral urgency in his eye that craved that meeting between now and then to become smaller.

“Until the next time, then,” Kuzan offered with an extended hand. Placing your hand within, he drew your knuckles up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against it.

“Until I see you again,” you responded in kind, nodding to him as he released your hands with his kiss. The temperature began to fluctuate between you. The weather mixing with Kuzan’s abilities made for a more pleasant atmosphere between you currently, but the heat between you would continue to grow with every passing moment.

Both of you couldn't wait until the next time you saw one another again: both hoping you could truly best the other.

Only time would tell.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

[tinyluvs]

I’m so happy your on my dash again!!! I was wondering if u could do something like post-prison Spencer where him and the reader do “it” for the first time after he gets out, and instead of it being rough they r both completely blissed out by being so close to each other again! And it’s super gentle, slow, and just like love-drunk.

ah glad to have you back angel! i would love to! enjoy! *mdni!!* this ended up being much longer than i anticipated!! ♡

spencer showers the minute he gets home from prison and naturally, he takes twice as long as he normally does. you sit on the edge of the bed waiting for him, watching steam billow out from the open door

normally he wouldn't leave the door open but the thought of having something separating you from him, for even a few more minutes was too much

you watch as he dries off, just happy to have him home. he wanders back into the bedroom, smiling softly at you when you hold out his pyjama bottoms, folded neatly in your hand, "here," you whisper

"thanks honey," he mumbles, rubbing a towel over his hair so it's mostly dry. you look away when he gets changed, only hearing his towel fall to the floor with a soft thump, "hey,"

spencer crouches down in front of you, his hands smoothing over your thighs as your eyes flicker over his face. he looks tired though his eyes are soft, "i've missed you," your voice wobbles as you speak, tears flooding your eyes against your will

you hold his face in your hands, a gentle reminder that he's really there, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks, "no tears," he mumbles, sounding like he could cry too

in your best attempt to stop crying you kiss him, softly and slowly, letting him sigh contently against your lips. his hands slide up your legs, settling on your waist as he leans into you, pushing your body back until your laying underneath him

he pauses to breathe, eyes searching yours wildly while he hovers over you. his hips roll against yours, a soft gasp passes your lips as a whimper tumbles from his, "just," he pauses, his eyes shutting slowly, "need you," his forehead presses against yours

"i'm here," you whimper quietly, feeling his cock pressing against you, hard and tenting in his trousers. he hums against your jaw before pulling your bottom lip between his while his hand drops down between your bodies

your back arches immediately when he touches you through your trousers and panties, soft circles being rubbed over your clothed clit. "sit up," his voice is muffled by your lips on his but you get the gist, holding your body up just enough for him to get his hands up underneath your shirt

the loss of touch on your pussy makes you whine and paired with the cold air brushing over your nipples, you become desperate. he leaves a sloppy trail of open mouthed kisses down your neck, groaning gently to himself when he gets to your tit

his hair tickles against your chest and your fingers slide up his neck, tugging on the hairs at the base, "spence," you plead, his mouth on your nipple and his fingers against your clit becoming more teasing than anything else

"i know," he breathes hard and kisses your collarbone before he stands up, towering over you. his fingers slip underneath the waist of your trousers, gripping and tugging to pull both your trousers and panties down your legs, discarding them on the floor as you sit up

spencer steps between your legs, knowing what you're going to do before you can ask, he hasn't got time that now. he hisses when you get your hands on him, wrapping softly around him as he pushes his pyjama's down so he can step out of them

the tip of his cock weeps in your hand, precome leaking over the pad of your thumb, "fuck, angel," spencer groans through gritted teeth, his fingers tangling into your hair as his head tilts back

you lean forwards, pressing soft open mouthed kisses from the base of his cock to the tip, barely sliding your lips around the head before he's pushing you away, "don’t, i'll come,"

he's always been sensitive but after months of not being able to touch you, to have you, it's increased tenfold. you flop back down onto the bed, watching him carefully as he leans over you, his hand between your bodies once more

slowly he drags his fingers through your folds, spreading the wetness from your entrance to your clit, smiling softly to himself when your fingers wrap loosely around his wrist

"c'mere," you whimper softly, pulling his hand away from you so he crowds your space. your nails dig into his shoulder while your other hand guides his cock to where you need him, "please, please ple-,"

spencer thrusts forwards, filling you in one swift movement. he grunts deeply against your neck, listening to you moaning, your head tilted back against the mattress

after a moment, he starts to move, pulling his cock out until it's just the tip resting against your hole and then he's pushing straight back in, splitting you open

your nails dig into the back of his neck, holding his head against you, his breath and lips ghosting over your skin. your other hand trails over his shoulder blade, scratching lightly until you're pulling whimpers from your boyfriend

"i'm not going to last honey," spencer groans, his chest rumbling against yours and his hips bumping against the back of your thighs, creating a gentle slap every time

"i know," you reply softly, moving your hand from his back and down to your clit. wet, sticky sounds fill the room from your fingers and where spencer is fucking into you like it's the last thing he will ever do

he grunts and groans against your jaw, his mouth open, matching yours where a steady stream of whimpers tumble from between your lips. he adjusts his hips, thrusting into you from a slightly new angle, the tip of his cock pressing impossibly deep into you

"oh fuck," you whine, arching away from the mattress. your tits bounce slightly, nipples catching against his chest. spencer huffs, cheeks puffing out as he licks over your nipple

his free hand slides into yours, fingers tangling together by the side of your head, squeezing each other gently as his cock starts to twitch, the veins on his cock rubbing against your walls

"i'm so close," you cry, fingers frantically rubbing over your soaked pussy. tears slip down your cheeks, the feeling of spencer everywhere, over you, against you, inside you being far too much for you to handle

"can feel it," spencer groans, throwing his head back when you clench around him, trapping him there, "so good for me angel, i've missed you so much," he rambles, repeatedly pushing the tip of his cock against a spot only he can reach

his pelvis pushes your fingers against your clit in time with his thrusts, causing your brain to switch off, reducing you to a crying, whimpering mess underneath him, completely blissed out

"god," spencer whimpers, a sound you'll never get sick of hearing, "angel, i can't ho-, fuck, i'm going to come," he whines, high pitched and panting hard

you turn towards your hands, still clasped together at your side. you kiss at the vein on his forearm, dragging your lips up his arm as your orgasm takes over, your entire body shaking

spencer comes at the same time you do, cock jerking inside of you as you tighten around him. both of you moan and pant loudly, your body shivering slightly when come floods your cunt, thick and warm, filling you up more after every wave

"oh my god," you sigh gently, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into you, his weight fully pressing you into the mattress, "i love you," you mumble, peppering kisses over his temple

“love you more,” spencer hums, scooping your body up carefully, making sure he stays inside of you. he manoeuvres you around so he’s laying against the bed and you’re on top of him

“never leave me again,” you whisper, your head lolling into the crook of his neck as his fingers trail up the dip in your spine softly, “please,”

“never, i promise”

thanks for reading! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily!! send prompts to my ask box!

❥ spencer reid masterlist !!

a/n i proofread this but if you see a mistake, holla at me