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greengoblinswifey · 8 days ago

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Beneath Chaos—Hwang In ho/Player 001 x Fem!Reader

summary— as the two of you become more intimate, you uncover Young-il is not who he claims to be. He’s revealed to be the Hwang In-ho, the mastermind behind the entire game. As he manipulates you with his affections, you begin to question everything you thought you knew about him with the line between love and manipulation becoming increasingly blurred

warnings— age gap(reader is in her 20s, he’s in his late 40s) the usual squid games violence mentions, manipulation and deceit, fingering, choking, nipple play, oral(f!receiving), praise kink, body worship, mirror sex, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

a/n— requests are open but i take a while to get to them, patience <3 like and reblog <3

Part I

It was a war zone. Screams and shouts echoed through the space as players turned on each other, desperation driving them to violence. You’d managed to stay out of it for the most part, keeping close to the quieter players, but tonight, the group had decided it was time to go after the organizers of the game.

“Stick with me,” Young-il, the player who had stuck by your side since the start, urged.

You nodded, clutching your arm. “Where are we going?”

He tightened his grip on your wrist. “Trust me. I’ll get you out of here.”

The two of you weaved through the chaos, narrowly dodging bullets as guards closed in. One of them lunged at you after having their gun taken, and before you could react, Young-il used a gun to shoot them.

“Keep moving,” he barked, his voice unusually firm.

As the two of you made your way through what you called a maze, a steel door loomed and you couldn’t help but notice how methodical Young-il was. He fought with precision, taking down and guards and helping the group as you pressed forward.

“In here!” he said, dragging you through a hidden corridor behind the door.

Your heart pounded as the sounds of chaos grew fainter. “Where are we going? How do you know about this place?”

He didn’t answer, his jaw clenched as he led you through the dimly lit hallway. When two guards appeared, you froze, expecting them to attack, but Young-il stepped forward, raising his hands.

“It’s me,” he said coolly.

To your shock, they stepped aside, lowering their weapons.

“What the hell?” you whispered, staring at him in disbelief.

He turned to you, his expression unreadable. “I’ll explain everything. Just stay with me.”

You followed him through the hallway, each step filling you with dread. At the end of the corridor, he pushed open a heavy door, revealing a sleek, high-tech room filled with monitors.

You froze in the doorway. The screens displayed every corner of the facility, the dormitory, the games, the guards. It was the command center.

“What is this?” you demanded, turning to him.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached to a table and picked up a black mask that had been hidden.

“You’re the organizer of the games?” you whispered, recognizing that he was what they were after.

“I wanted to tell you,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “But I couldn’t. Not yet.”

“You’re the Front Man?” Your voice trembled as the realization hit you like a freight train. “You’ve been running this whole thing?”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his tone laced with guilt. “I didn’t want you here. I never wanted you to get hurt.”

Tears blurred your vision as you stepped back. “You lied to me. All this time, I thought—I thought you were one of us. I slept with you!”

“I did what I had to do to protect you and—forget that,” he said, taking your hand firmly.

You pulled your hand away, anger bubbling to the surface. “And this is your idea of protection? Letting people die?”

“I’ve kept you alive, haven’t I?” His voice softened, and for a moment, you saw the man you thought you knew. “I brought you here because it’s the only safe place left. Please, just trust me.”

The heavy doors to his quarters slid open, and he guided you inside with a hand on your back. The room was cold and sterile, lined with screens showing every corner of the games. You felt a shiver crawl up your spine as you realized how removed this place was from the chaos you’d just escaped.

He stood by the console, running a hand through his damp hair as his chest rose and fell with controlled breaths. He was fighting to keep his expression neutral, but you noticed the faintest flicker of something else, a strain, like he was holding back.

“I need to explain,” he said, his tone carefully measured.

You crossed your arms, your voice trembling. “Explain what? That you lied to everyone? To me?”

He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he walked closer. “I had no choice. My name isn’t Young-il. It’s Hwang In-ho. I entered the game for a reason, to infiltrate and dismantle this from the inside.”

There it was again—that careful modulation of his voice, as if he was reading from a script. But the way he avoided your eyes gave him away.

The real truth you were unaware of was that he didn’t care about dismantling anything. The truth was, the deaths, the violence, it didn’t matter to him. The only thing he cared about was you. His sweet, pretty little thing.

“What about our friends?” you asked, cutting through the silence. Your voice cracked as you thought of the people you’d fought beside. “What happened to them?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “Don’t worry about them,” he said coldly. “It’s just me and you now.”

“Don’t worry?” you repeated, your voice rising. “They were our allies, our—”

“They don’t matter,” he interrupted, his tone hard. “You matter. I’ve done everything to protect you. Every choice I’ve made, every lie—it was all for you.”

You stared at him, unsure whether to believe the man in front of you. His eyes softened as he stepped closer, his fingers brushing over your arm. “I know it’s hard to trust me right now. But you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

You shook your head, your mind racing. “I don’t even know who you are right now.”

“You’ll see,” he murmured, his thumb grazing your knuckles as he took your hand. “You’ll see that everything I’ve done has been for you.”

He straightened, his voice firm again. “You can get cleaned up. There are clothes for you in the bathroom.”

You walked into the sleek bathroom, its stark white tiles almost blinding under the fluorescent lights. A stack of fresh clothes sat neatly on the counter, along with a towel. The sound of water running filled the room as you stepped under the stream, letting the heat wash away the violence of the night.

You hadn’t heard him enter until you felt his hands on your waist. “In-ho?” you gasped, turning to see him standing behind you, naked, water dripping down his hair.

“I told you,” he murmured, his lips quirking into a faint smirk. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

Before you could respond, his hand tilted your chin upward, and his lips were on yours. The kiss was slow, his fingers tangling in your wet hair as he deepened it. You felt his other hand slide to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you.

“Is this your way of making me trust you?” you whispered against his lips, your breath hitching.

He chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Maybe.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “Or maybe I just can’t stay away from you.”

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the warmth of his lips, the weight of his arms on your naked body. But in the back of your mind, the doubts lingered, like a dark cloud that wouldn’t leave. As his lips trailed down your neck, you fought to push the thoughts away, telling yourself you could question him later. You really wanted to argue, to pull away, but the warmth of his hands against your wet skin, the way his breath fanned across your neck, made your protests dissolve before they even formed.

“I can feel how tense you are,” he continued, his fingers tracing slow circles along your hip. “Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do anything.”

You swallowed hard, the heat from the water mixing with the heat of his touch. “I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

“Yes, you do,” he countered softly, his lips skimming your jaw. “You know I’ll make you feel good. I always do.”

His hand moved lower, his fingers slipping along your thigh and feeling a slick wetness completely different from the water, and you couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran through you. “See?” he said. “Your body knows. It always knows.”

His fingers teased higher, the pads of his fingertips grazing your clit with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch. You leaned against the tiled wall for support, your knees threatening to give out. Pleasure ran through your body and you opened your eyes to stare into his dark ones as they locked on you. They broke away from you, looking down at your breasts that were cascaded in warm water before leaning down and swirling his tongue over them, his fingers still rubbing your clit.

Soft whimpers left your lips even though you tried your hardest to suppress them. You bit your tongue as he took your nipple between his teeth and bit down gently, a finger now slipping inside your wet pussy.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet praise. “So beautiful. So perfect for me. Your body is a masterpiece.”

Your head tipped back, water running down your face as his fingers found your sweet spot, the pressure just enough to make you gasp. “In-ho,” you breathed, your voice trembling with equal parts of protest and need.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his free hand moving to cradle your face, tilting it toward him. “I won’t let you fall. Just trust me.”

He moved his hand back down to your breast, kneading it as you involuntarily arched into his touch. A small smirk played on his lips and he leaned down, placing a kiss on yours. Another finger found its way inside your pussy, as his thumb skillfully rubbed your clit, increasing your pleasure. His fingers curled, and he used his free fingers to gently pinch and pull on your nipples as you tried to stop the soft moans from leaving your lips.

The sensation was overwhelming, his touch unrelenting, and the praise spilling from his lips only heightened it. “That’s it my good little girl,” he coaxed, his lips brushing against yours before capturing them fully, swallowing the sounds that escaped you.

His kiss was possessive, almost desperate, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone hearing you but him. His fingers thrusted faster inside you with an expert rhythm, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he whispered against your lips, his voice low and intoxicating. “So perfect, every part of you. All mine.”

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as an orgasm built inside you. “That’s my girl,” he murmured. “Let me see you cum, just for me.”

His fingers went faster and your body gave in, the release was swift and all consuming, leaving you trembling and moaning his name in his arms. He held you close, his hands steadying you as your breathing slowed.

“See how good that felt?” In-ho murmured, his lips curving into a small smile. “It can get even better.”

A flicker of shame passed through you, how could you let him do this, knowing what was happening just outside these quarters? The chaos, the danger, the people you had left behind. But the moment his hands trailed down your waist, firm and grounding, the doubt began to dissolve.

“In-ho,” you whispered, though your voice betrayed you, shaky and soft.

“I know angel,” he said gently, his forehead resting against yours for a moment. “But don’t think about anything else right now. It’s just you and me here. No one else matters.”

Before you could reply, he dropped to his knees. The sight of him kneeling before you, his dark hair dripping with water, made your breath catch.

His hands found your thighs, spreading them slightly as his lips pressed kisses on your pussy. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice husky. “Let me show you.”

Your hands instinctively found their way to his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as his lips engulfed your throbbing clit. He worked with slow, deliberate care, his mouth trailing heat over your pussy.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his breath warm against you. “So good for me. You always are.”

His tongue flicked over your clit fast, better than your fingers or anyone else could ever feel on you. He licked from your entrance back up to your clit, swirling his tongue and suckling like a starved man.

Your grip in his hair tightened as a low sound escaped you, and he let out a quiet chuckle, clearly pleased with your reaction. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear you.”

For a moment, all thoughts of the world outside were forgotten. The only thing that existed was the feel of his lips and the steady stream of praise falling from them.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice reverent yet commanding. “I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

He ate you out like he had something to prove. Like he was showing you that no one else could care for you so much that it reflected in how they pleasured you. His tongue slipped inside your pussy, thrusting gently as you shivered and let out soft whimpers that made his dick hard. All that clouded your mind now was his tongue, exploring every inch of your needy, quivering pussy, licking up and down and slurping on your clit.

Your grip in his hair tightened again as your breaths turned shallow, your body trembling under his touch. He moved with such precision, as though he knew exactly what your pussy ached for. The sound of the water cascading around you only heightened your senses, every touch, every flicker of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through you.

“Come on sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin, his voice a low, rumbling praise that sent a shiver up your spine. “Just cum for me. Be good for me.”

Your fingers clenched in his wet hair, and your body obeyed, your orgasm spilling over as the pleasure became too much to contain and you squirted in his mouth.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your clit one last time before he stood, his hands trailing up your sides to pull you against him. You could feel the strength of him, solid, grounding you as you tried to catch your breath.

He leaned in, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands sliding down to your hips. “See how good I can make you feel?” he murmured against your lips.

Before you could respond, he turned you gently, guiding your hands to brace against the tile as the warmth of the water poured over you. His lips found the curve of your shoulder, trailing kisses along your neck as his hands explored your wet, naked body.

“You feel so perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “I won’t stay away from you, you know that?”

As his hands gently groped your ass, you could feel his hard cock pressing against you. His breath was warm against the back of your neck, his words soft but full of lust. “I need to fuck you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

“Please- please do,” you whimpered.

You could feel the way he was responding to you, his cock against your ass telling you everything you needed to know. Your pulse raced as you gave in to the moment, not wanting to fight the pull between you. You both let out low moans as he entered your tight pussy from behind, halting for a second to give you time to adjust to his sheer size. He was so thick, stretching and filling you in ways you knew no one else could.

He began steadily rutting into you, the sound of skin slapping amplified by the water making him chuckle lightly. His lips pressed against your neck as your pussy gripped his cock like it never wanted to let him go.

His voice was a little hoarse as he whispered, “You feel so fucking good.”

His hands shifted, one sliding around your neck, the pressure just enough to make you gasp. You leaned into it, feeling the pleasure rise inside you. With every thrust, he took his time, drawing out each moan, each squelch of your pussy that sent your heart racing.

He looked down at your ass bouncing against him, and you swore his cock throbbed inside you. With his hand still around your neck, the other reached in front, rubbing rough circles on your clit as his cock hit your g spot repeatedly.

“Relax,” he whispered softly. “I’ve got you. Cum on my cock.”

His words, his touch, it was all part of this undeniable force pulling you closer, and you gave in, your pussy soaking his cock buried inside you, surrendering to the moment, feeling more alive than you’d ever thought possible these last few days.

After drying off, the steam from the shower clung to your skin. The mirror fogged up just a bit from the warmth, but it only added to the intimacy of the moment. His hands gently cupped your waist as he stood close behind you. You could see his reflection in the mirror, his gaze intense as he met your eyes through the glass.

“You’re breathtaking,” he whispered, his breath warm on the back of your neck. His hands traced your sides slowly, memorizing every curve, every inch of you. “From the moment I saw you, I knew I had to protect you.”

The words made your chest tighten, a mix of emotions swirling within you. You’d never felt so seen, so cared for, as if everything about you mattered to him. He continued, his voice low, full of reverence, “You’re my priority. I would do anything for you. No one else matters but you.”

He stared at you in the mirror as his hard length entered you again. He moaned into your ear, the deep sound going to your pussy and making it throb as he began fucking you again. Your mouth fell open, the intimacy of the moment sending ripples of need through you. His large hands cupped your breasts, groping and tweaking your nipples as you met the roll of his hips, fucking him back as he pounded your pussy.

The mirror reflected the way his eyes softened as they traced your brown skin, his admiration for you evident in the way he held you. He kissed your shoulder, your neck and then your temple, the feel of his lips on you making you shiver.

“No one else matters. They don’t fucking matter, only my pretty little angel,” he murmured

With every thrust, he showed you just how much you meant to him, his actions speaking louder than words ever could. You could feel the care, the devotion, and the unwavering desire to be close to you, to cherish you in some lowkey sick and twisted way. It was a rare and overwhelming feeling, one that made your heart race and your pulse quicken.

“Every.part.of.you,” he murmured, thrusting with word, his lips brushing against your ear, “is.perfect.to.me.”

You couldn’t hold on much longer. He was right at the edge waiting too. Your hand reached behind him, bringing his head down to suck on your neck, his eyes still locked onto yours in the mirror as you squirted on his cock. Your pussy drenched him, your juices trailing down your thighs and his as you convulsed with him still inside you.

“That’s my good girl, fuck, I’m gonna cum too, deep inside this tight pussy. Take it for me sweetheart,” he groaned.

He let out a deep, guttural moan and you hummed in content, feeling his hot load fill you to the brim.

As your highs passed, you could feel the air between you slowly easing. His lips brushed against your temple, soft and tender, grounding you. His voice was gentle but firm, “I’m here. It’s just us now. That’s all that matters.”

His words were soothing you in a way that only he could. With delicate care, he cleaned you up, his touch surprisingly gentle despite everything that had just happened. Then, he led you to the bed, helping you lie down as he dressed you slowly, making sure you were comfortable.

“You’ll get all the answers you need,” he said quietly, his hand brushing a strand of your curls away from your face, “in due time. Just trust me. Be patient.”

You let out a soft breath, not fully understanding everything, but something in his words made you want to believe him. Trust. What a word. It was so simple yet so heavy. Could you really place it in his hands, when everything else felt so uncertain?

You looked up at him. “Trust,” you echoed, “you’re really good at making that sound easy.”

He returned your smile, though it was tinged with something darker, something unreadable. “I don’t need you to trust me now. Just know I’ll never let you go.”

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 5 months ago

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Simon was seething. Never had he been so viscerally angry, his temper dangerously towing the tight rope that was his self control. You’d almost been killed. You’d been shot, and you were damn lucky that it hadn’t been fatal.

He found you on the roof later that night, no longer hiding the pain the bullet wound in your side had caused once you thought you were alone. It took all of two seconds of him seeing you hurting like that for him to snap.

“The fuck were you thinking out there, Y/N?!” His voice echoed in the night air, causing you to flinch slightly. “Do please tell me you’ve got a reasonable explanation for what happened.”

“Simon, please just calm down for a minute.” Your voice was soft, too soft, and it only fueled his anger more.

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Simon bellowed, his self control rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “You almost fuckin’ died, Y/N!”

Simon hated the way you flinched, hated the way you backed up ever so slightly away from him, but he couldn’t control himself. He had almost lost you.

“I know that, Simon. I know. But I don’t regret what went down.” You forced your voice steady, your eyes not leaving his as you attempted to stand your ground. “I-.”

“You don’t regret almost getting shot? Y/N, you’re not on this team to make reckless decisions. If I knew you’d be making choices like that, I’d have had Price kick you off the team months ago! Almost dying, for what? For what?!” Simon moved closer to you, the red in his vision nearly blinding, and this time you didn’t back away.

“For you, asshole!” You screamed, your hands reaching for Simon’s chest, pushing him as hard as you possibly could. Simon barely moved an inch before you screamed again. “For you! If I hadn’t taken that bullet, you would’ve died!”

Simon’s world stopped in that moment, the red vanishing from his vision, his heart coming to a slow halt in his chest as he absorbed your words. For him?

“He was aiming at you, Simon. If I hadn’t stepped in the way, we would’ve lost you. And I.” You trailed off, unable to look at the hulking man in front of you. “I don’t know, I didn’t hesitate, it was as if it was just instinct for me.”

Simon could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the soft thud thud thud the only thing keeping him grounded. You’d saved him. You’d risked your life to save him.

You, the sweet soldier who always put others first. You, the one who’d always patched him up late at night, laughing at his shitty jokes. You, the one who understood him like nobody else. You, the one person in this godforsaken world that got him to lower the never ending walls within him. You, the one he’d unknowingly loved for years. Saved him.

“I know it was stupid, and if you want to kick me off of the team for it, fine. But I’d do it again.” You threw your hands up in the air, and Simon didn’t miss the way you winced from the pain in your side. “I don’t regret it.”

Simon only stared at you, his eyes betraying none of the inner turmoil that he was currently experiencing.

“I couldn’t lose you, Simon.” Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, your eyes falling on the lower half of his mask. “Not now, not ever. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that bullet hit you.”

Simon’s eyes found yours as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, incapable of moving. For the first time in his life, he truly didn’t know what to say.

He watched as you chewed your bottom lip, your eyes leaving his yet again as you looked down at your feet. God he wishes he could say something, anything, but as always words failed him around you.

“I’ve got to go report in to Price.” You said, slowly turning away from him to face the door. “I won’t apologize for what I did, but I’m sorry for causing you to doubt my ability to support the team. Have a good night, lieutenant.”

Watching you turn away from him had finally stirred something within him, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He had to make this right.

“Y/N.” Simon found his voice as you reached the roof’s door, causing you to turn to face him. “Wait.”

Your heart practically stopped beating upon finding Simon’s mask discarded, his face now fully bare for you to see. You weren’t sure what you had expected, once you’d finally seen him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He was simply beautiful. Every scar, every small freckle, dimple, wrinkle had formed his face impeccably well, and you couldn’t help but stare at him as your mind ran completely blank.

You’d fallen for the masked man long ago, his dry humor, loyalty and bravery were something that’d you’d found yourself drawn to. You’d meant what you said to him about not regretting taking a bullet for him. You loved him. And truthfully couldn’t fathom a life without him.

“Now you see me.” Simon breathed, his eyes softening as he watched you take in every inch of his face. He should’ve felt vulnerable, shy even. But he didn’t. Not with you. He wanted you to see him, every imperfect inch of him.

He bared himself to you, let his face and eyes tell you everything he didn’t know how to express with words.

“I’ve always seen you, Simon Riley.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand softly cupped his cheek. “Always.”

And that was all it took for Simon to know he loved you.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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chuluoyi · 7 days ago

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𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑

- xavier x reader

a new friendly colleague has joined your team, but your boyfriend is convinced he is up to no good... and that's why xavier is determined to show it that you are his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—jealousy, fluff explicit smut: slightly rough sex, fingering, doggy style, based on xavier's card misty silhouette

note: skxmskcjsf bye don't look at me. this fanart and xavier's card messed me up :') this banner is so unhealthy for me i swear </3

Xavier knew he wasn’t the most patient person.

But even patience, he thought, has limits. And he had been patient and reasonable for a week, to be precise.

It all started ever since that damned new recruit entered his team. He didn't know why, but he kept coming to you for everything—directions, advice, even trivial nonsense like lunch recommendations. It was almost as if on purpose.

This afternoon was no different. Xavier had been looking forward to having lunch with you—just the two of you. You’d promised him, after all.

And yet—

“There was this one time I got trapped inside the N109 Zone—”

“N109 Zone!?”

“Yes!”

“Really?! What did you do then?”

“Hmm, so at first, I was in total panic, but then—”

For the past 15 minutes, your lunch break had been taken over by recounting your tales of valor as a hunter to the new recruit. Nearby, Xavier sat in brooding silence, scathingly sparing him a glance. The slight frown on his face said it all—blatant disinterest and a touch of irritation.

And you too... why are you engaging him so enthusiastically?

Then again, given his age, Xavier knew he had to be mature about this. He tried, really. If it had been someone like Jeremiah, he might have let it slide.

But there was just something about this new recruit—Sean, was it?—that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Whoa, you're so cool, Miss Y/N!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with admiration. “Not only are you pretty and talented, but you're also incredibly skilled! What do you even lack, eh?”

“Really, it's not that much,” you giggled, brushing him off. The way you got sheepish only made Xavier’s annoyance flare even further.

“Let me guess— a boyfriend!”

So that’s what it was. Now Xavier understood what about Sean that set him off. The entire time you’d been talking, he had been giving you those googly eyes.

He didn't like it one bit. He looked ridiculous while doing it.

Despite being silent as a mouse all the way, before he could stop himself, he blurted, “She has a boyfriend already.”

You turned to him in surprise, clearly not expecting him to announce it so bluntly.

“Oh...? Xavier, you know who her boyfriend is...?” Sean turned to him with curiosity.

He noticed it. How his expression fell ever so slightly upon he told him that you were already taken. Xavier huffed and stuffed his mouth with his ramen.

“Yeah. Her boyfriend lives next door.”

Technically, he lived upstairs, but the detail didn’t matter. He just needed to make his point known.

And somehow, for the rest of the day, the new recruit finally seemed to develop some sense—at least enough to stop hovering around you so frequently. Particularly when Xavier was nearby.

“Xavier... why did you tell him that?”

You fell into step beside your quiet boyfriend as the two of you headed home that evening, tilting your head as you replayed the events of the afternoon.

Xavier gave you a brief glance before looking straight ahead again, ignoring your question.

You observed him. There it was again—that gray cloud hovering over him. It always seemed to appear when he was in a bad mood.

Puckering your lips, you pressed further. “We haven’t even told anybody else about our relationship... And what you did there—you’re literally telling him we’re dating.”

“So what?” he shot back, his tone sharper than usual. “Are you afraid people might find out we are? Or—”

Xavier abruptly stopped in his tracks, turning to face you. His usually vibrant blue eyes darkened, piercing into yours with a sharp gleam. “Are you afraid he will find out?”

There was something in his gaze that held you captive—that made your silly heart skip a beat.

“N-no...” you looked away, swallowing the heat that were about to take over your face. Why does Xavier look kind of... hot like that...?

Your cheeks warmed regardless, but you had to appease him. “Like I told you before, I just thought it’d be easier if this stays our little secret. It’s less of a bother if they don’t know…”

Reaching for his hand, you gave it a reassuring squeeze and flashed him a soft smile. “Besides, why would I be afraid if he knows? My boyfriend is cool, handsome, and the best hunter there is.”

You watched as Xavier's expression softened, the tension melting away. A faint blush crept up his cheeks too, and the gray cloud that had loomed over him finally disappeared. He squeezed your hand in return, looking away as if to hide the way he got bashful.

Adorable. For all his brooding, your boyfriend was surprisingly easy to soothe.

For the rest of the walk back to your apartment, you two remained hand-in-hand, the tension of the afternoon slipping away with each step.

. . .

You were staying over at Xavier's place tonight. After a relaxing bath and a hearty dinner, the two of you found yourselves standing side by side in the kitchen, doing the dishes together.

It was mundane things like this that Xavier considered his favorite routine to do with you. Just as you handed him the last plate to dry, you spoke up, your voice breaking the quiet hum of contentment—

“Xavier, can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?”

“I was just thinking... Sean seems nice and friendly, but from what I’ve seen, you seem kind of... unwelcoming— almost hostile even towards him.”

At your words, a frown etched itself onto Xavier’s forehead as he turned to face you fully. You seemed so oblivious, standing there with a look of genuine curiosity.

“Do you really not know?” he questioned you incredulously.

You blinked. “Know what?”

Damn it. Xavier sighed and put down the dish he was holding, but the words faltered on his tongue as a sour expression crossed his face. “No matter,” he muttered under his breath.

He took a deliberate step closer, his movements slow and heavy, and you instinctively backed away—

“So,” he said, his voice low, his blue eyes boring into yours as he took one hot step forward after another, “while Sean is nice and friendly, I’m hostile and unwelcoming, huh?”

—only to find yourself pressed against the window, unable to retreat further.

He stood in front of you now, his arms caging you in, creating a barrier that sealed off any chance of escape.

Uh-oh. Apparently, you had flipped that switch—

The air between you grew thick, and you could feel your pulse quicken under the weight of his gaze. “That’s not what I'm getting at—”

“He’s been eyeing you all day, following you around... getting lunches with you—”

In that moment, your phone erupted to life, its ringtone cutting through the tension. It sat on the small table near the windowsill, and Xavier gave it a quick glance, his expression darkening upon seeing Sean's name flash on the screen.

“Oh?” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous glint flickering in his eyes. “He’s now calling you at nights too?”

“No!” you quickly refuted, your words tumbling out almost too fast. “Xavier, don’t get the wrong idea—”

He tilted your jaw to face him, holding your spooked gaze. “Then what idea am I supposed to be getting when he’s so blatantly pursuing you and you don't even do anything about it?”

The plot twist is... you know. Of course you knew it when a guy was trying to make a move on you, you just pretended not to notice it because it was easier that way. You didn’t know which devil had planted this rotten idea in your head that made you want to push Xavier to the edge, just to see how he'd react when he held nothing back—

The call tonight was a coincidence though, but definitely fueled your lover's ire even more. It was a dangerous game, but now that you’d crossed this line, you couldn't go back any longer.

Your lips curled into a bewitching smile then, and your boyfriend was almost mystified. "So, what will you do to me?"

Xavier looked at you with slightly widened eyes, not expecting your boldness at all. But then he grimaced, as at the same time, the irritation in his veins suddenly flared up—

With a swift, fluid motion, he turned you that you faced the window, his right arm wrapping around your waist from behind as he pressed his body against yours—his hardness pressing, almost poking you.

“You’re so clueless,” he growled into your ear before going after your neck, sucking hard and fast. His hips began to grind against you, pressing harder with each movement. “Too damn clueless...!”

His fingers that gripped your belly moved then, slipping inside your frisky nightgown to finger you— and you lost all your wits in that instant. “Ah-h—!”

Two of his fingers pumped in and out of you, dragging them almost rashly, and it took everything in you to stay upright. "X-Xavier!"

“Mmph,” he breathed against the skin of your neck, his other arm pressing you against him tighter, simultaneously squeezing your breasts. "You asked for it."

Your thighs were trembling in no time, and your breaths came in shaky moans. Your boyfriend was not exactly gentle, but this is probably the first time in a while that he was being rough without reservations. While you wanted to protest, it felt too good—

He turned your face towards him then, crashing his lips on yours.

It almost felt like you were punished, but you couldn't do anything about it. The tension in your lower belly was steadily building, ready to snap at any moment, and the way his fingers relentlessly hitting that one unforgivable spot was starting to made you dizzy.

"Ah—ngh!" You finally shuddered when you reached your climax. It was freeing when you felt yourself burst on his fingers, the release smearing your thighs.

And right then your knees buckled—

But Xavier immediately got a secure hold over you, lifting your body effortlessly into his arms, one hand supporting your knees, the other cradling your back. Through your teary eyes, you met his gaze once more. His expression was unreadable, a dark haze of disapproval clouding his features.

“I’m not done yet.”

He brought you over to his bed, gently lying you down despite the roughness of his voice. He parted your legs, getting himself between them—

Ring! Ring!

The shrill sound of your phone pierced the coolness of the room, and you almost jolted.

But your lover... the sound was like a spell to him, only intensifying his irritation as his features twisted with frustration, and you knew that he was about to take it on you.

As if changing his mind, Xavier suddenly flipped you over that you laid on your stomach and straddled you from behind. He quickly turned your head to face him and claimed your lips in a deep, urgent kiss.

“Mm, hmmp—!” The ringtone of your phone blared in the background, a jarring sound that wasn't pleasant at the slightest. It wasn’t until it finally stopped that he pulled away from the kiss.

You were gasping for breath, your chest heaving, and a stray tear slipped from your eyes. Xavier stared at you, and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

Flushed, sweaty, tearful... you looked so enchanting in his eyes in that moment. He almost felt bad that he had manhandled you this roughly.

Almost.

His hands gripped your waist, and he paused, his gaze locked with yours, silently seeking your approval— or more like, commanding you to give it to him.

In response, you arched your back— a silent affirmation, bracing yourself.

From then on, he was no longer holding back. He tugged your panties down and let his throbbing member out of his pants. It was laughable how insatiable he was— both of you were still clothed, save for his unbuttoned shirt, but he was already this aroused and hard.

He nudged forward, his tip breaching your entrance. The feeling of that familiar stretch left you keeling, babbles and whimpers falling from your lips as he slowly eased into you.

It was hard to take him in fully, and you were a mess of breathy gasps the moment you did. But you were in for the main ride when he started ramming into you, pushing in and out of you in a merciless pace.

"Ah... Xavier!" you panted between thrusts, feeling how it started to be too much for you the more he went on. "Ahh, hrah!"

Behind you, Xavier groaned in reply, his lips sucking your shoulder as his hips quickened, striving to bring you to the peak faster. One of his large hands dug into the skin of your stomach, urging your back to arch more, while the other clasped yours, fingers entwined in the sheets.

He watched intently as your face twisted and contorted in ecstasy, a surge of pride swelling within him, greater than he thought possible.

It was mind-blowing, slightly forceful, and your senses were all heightened. The harsh pace drew cries from your lips, your tears falling to the sheets, yet the pleasure also catapulted you into the stars—

The sinful delight of having him so deep within you.

The sinful rapture of being thrusted over and over.

“Ahhh!” And then, all at once, it was as if heaven and hell collided in a cataclysmic burst. Everything inside you shattered as you cried out—a scream morphing into a high-pitched gasp—as the two of you reached the climax together. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your walls clasped around him impossibly tight as Xavier filled you with everything that he had in one shot.

You collapsed against the sheets like a ragdoll, the pressure finally easing from your sore spine.

“Hello? Yes, it’s Xavier...”

The morning after. You stirred awake, your mind still foggy with sleep, as muffled voices filtered in from outside the bedroom.

“I have to take an urgent leave today...”

You were still utterly drained, your body heavy and unwilling to move. Instinctively, your hand reached out to your side, searching for your lover, but the spot was empty.

“Yes. Y/N too. She isn’t well today... We will be back tomorrow...”

You let out a soft, tired whine, your voice plaintive, as you lay sprawled across the bed, wishing for his warmth to return. Honestly, everything was still sore, and you were this close to tears again.

The door then opened with a creak not long after, and you let out a whimper, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Are you awake...?” Xavier's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he stepped closer to the bed.

You blinked up at him, your vision still blurry. He was already dressed, his crisp appearance in stark contrast to your disheveled state. In his hand, he held a small plastic bag.

“What’s that...?” you mumbled, your voice hoarse as you struggled to prop yourself up, curiosity flickering through your tired gaze.

“Don’t get up too quickly,” Xavier murmured, his hands steady as he caught you mid-movement. He guided you back down and tucked the blankets snugly around you, his touch gentle yet firm. “Just rest for now.”

A low hum of contentment escaped you as you leaned into his touch. Your bleary eyes focused solely on him, and despite himself, Xavier found a smile tugging at his lips.

“I just went to the drugstore downstairs to get you some painkillers,” he explained, lifting the small plastic bag slightly. “Take them after you’ve had some breakfast later.”

He then fixed you a bashful grimace, looking down. “Sorry for... uh, last night... I think I’ve pushed you too far.”

His fingers reached out, brushing gently against your cheek. The same fingers that had driven you to the brink of madness the night before now so tender against your skin. “You were crying,” he murmured, guilt lacing his voice. “I feel bad.”

“Mm-hm, so that’s what happens when you don’t hold back at all,” you snickered softly, the corners of your mouth curving despite the lingering ache in your body.

Xavier shifted his gaze away, his confidence faltering. “Will you... hate me for it?”

It was hard to contain your smile from breaking out into a grin. Your boyfriend, a ferocious wolf in a sheep’s clothing, had no need for this shy charade when he had railed you that hard last night.

“No, but you’re going to have to make it up to me. I can’t even walk now.”

Xavier blinked before he patted your head. “Yeah, I’ll fulfill any of your wishes,” he sighed in relief, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice. “So, what is it?”

You paused for a moment, then with a mischievous glint in your eye, you said, “Take me to the bathroom? I want to have a shower first.”

And, of course, he obliged. With a effortless motion, Xavier scooped you up into a princess carry, holding you close. His arms cradled you with care, and you rested against his chest, the warmth of his embrace offering a sense of security.

Just like that, you spent the rest of the day as lovers, sleeping in with careless abandon, unburdened by your duties.

Epilogue

Later in the afternoon, you were once again deep in a sleep as Xavier cuddled you close, when suddenly the doorbell of his apartment rang incessantly.

Frowning, Xavier carefully eased himself out of bed, making sure not to disturb your slumber. He moved quietly towards the door, and when he saw the intercom, his frown worsened.

Sean, the newbie, was at his doorstep. He had half a mind to ignore him, but after a beat, he decided to open the door.

“What do you want?” his voice sharp with annoyance.

“Oh, Xavier!” The guy was stunned for a moment as his eyes lingered on Xavier’s chiseled abs, exposed through the his unbuttoned shirt. “O-oh, so... I’ve been trying to ring the doorbell to Y/N's apartment to give her a fruit basket to wish her a fast recovery, but she’s not answering—” he hastily explained, gesturing toward the basket in his hand. “Can you reach her—?”

Xavier felt like popping a vein at how meddlesome this guy was. Was this guy an idiot? Didn’t he realize by now that he was your next-door boyfriend?

Nevermind. The hard way it is.

“She’s with me.”

“H-huh?”

He shot him a pointed look. “Don't think you’ll have a chance with her, newbie.”

And with that, he shut the door in his face.

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amoressb · 2 months ago

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𐙚 nerds do it best

pairings : nerd bf!jungwon x reader

synopsis : when your bf comes to class with a new look

note : this is sort of a long one !! not too sure how i feel about this one, i couldn’t get to the point honestly but i still hope you enjoy my rambling !!

You made it to your classroom a little earlier than usual but it doesn’t bother you much since you’ll be accompanied by your boyfriend jungwon. You and jungwon usually walk to school together since you guys live in the same neighborhood but different streets. He wasn’t answering your messages or calls which made you a little worried. He’s always the one to do those things but today it was the other way around and he doesn’t answer? weird. There was a possibility that he went to sleep later than usual so thats ultimately what you thought.

After getting your things out for class, you decided to go to the bathroom and stroll a bit before class since again you’re way earlier today. Soon or later you arrive back to your classroom and basically everyone is in there seats talking waiting for class to start in about a minute or two but wheres jungwon? He hasn’t taken his seat next to you, let alone even arrive since the desk and seat were both empty. You decided to send him a message again in hopes he’ll respond.

you : class is starting, where r u???

hello jungwon?

baby?

With no luck and class starting you had to put your phone away and just hope he’ll come in later. While waiting for him you were having a hard time focusing worrying about him but the sound of the classroom door drew you out of your daydream. There he was. Jungwon..but your smile on your face turned into surprise and confusion when you see he now has..BLONDE HAIR?? AND ITS CURLY???

Jungwon apologizes for coming in so late and makes his way to your seat with a cheeky yet embarrassed smile. “hi baby” he quietly giggles putting his stuff down and looks up to you only for you to be completely shocked. “alright class we have nothing left for today so you may talk quietly till your next period” the teacher says to which you immediately turn to jungwon and ask “when did this happen?!” you say as your hand reaches up to his hair and run your finger through it softly. “just last night..thats why i came in to late, i finished at around 2” he says and you notice just how tired he was with how slow he was talking and his eyes seem heavy.

“it looks really good on you tho. makes you even more cute and hot” you say completely mesmerized now that you can fully process it all. His now blond hair, glasses, his cute smile and beautiful eyes. It made you fall more in live with him. “why don’t you lay down and rest for the remainder of the class hm?” you ask him. He just hums and nods as he scoots closer to you and lays his head down on your arm thats on the desk and wraps an arm around your waist not forgetting to take off his glasses so they don’t get damaged.

The whole time he was sleeping, you were running your fingers through his hair softly and rubbing his back softly at times hoping to soothe him and make sure he gets enough sleep to make it through the rest of the day. Surprisingly tho his hair was still super soft even after possible heavy bleaching. You had to ask for his hair routine..

Throughout the rest of the day, you couldn’t take your eyes off of jungwon. Which wasn’t hard since you were together in all your classes AND sat next to each other. “you’re staring yk and you’re gonna miss everything” jungwon says with a cheeky smile as you stare at him with heart eyes. “i can just have your notes” you say in a trance looking at him. He giggles at your state but continues taking notes knowing he will indeed give you his notes.

By the end on the day, you took basically no notes. You were completely focused on one thing and one thing only. Jungwon. The second you guys step foot outside, you immediately jumped on him and gave him a gentle yet tight hug and started peppering his face with kisses. “AHHHH you’re such a pretty boy. ily ily ily!!!!” you say and by now jungwons face was quite red. All the attention you’ve been giving him today was amazing yes. He loved it. But it was too much for his heart to handle, so it was easy for him to fold in front you. “i love you too but can it wait till we’re out of everyone else’s view?” its not that he’s embarrassed about you showing your love to him. It’s the fact that hes so red right now. Thats whats embarrassing.

Too bad for him, that didn’t stop you. You made it all the way home, hand in hand, you going on and one about how his new look was absolutely perfect on him. “stay at my house for a bit?!” you said excitedly knowing he’d say yes and end up sleeping over. Thank goodness it was friday. “when do i ever decline to that invite” he smiles as you lead him into your house all the way to your room.

You both change clothes, him always having clothes left over at your house to the point you bought extra drawers just for him for how often hes over and you changing into one of his sweatshirts and your sweatpants. You decided to stay in your room and watch a movie. Immediately you pull him onto your bed, he got closer and laid on top of you, head in the crook of your neck. “so..what do you truly think of my hair my love” he smiles tiredly sort of knowing what you’re going to say.

“omg i love it. it looks absolutely perfect on you and the glasses too. you look so cute yet so hot. I LOVE IT!!” you ramble about how good his new look is. He smiles into your neck happy you like it. “really? cuz i didn’t think it looked good at all, felt really weird” he voiced out his worries a bit. You this whole time had your fingers running through his hair, moved in closer to him if that was even possible and gave him a kiss on his head. “no i think anything you do, you will always look handsome in my eyes” you smiled into his hair. “i love you jungwon” you move some hair from his face. “i love you too pretty” he leans up a bit to give you a quick kiss on the lips then back to his position falling asleep almost immediately. Blonde jungwon will forever have you weak in the knees.

#amoressb #enhypen #yang jungwon #jungwon #enhypen jungwon #enha jungwon #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enha fluff #enha imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #jungwon x reader #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enha x you #enhypen yang jungwon #enha yang jungwon

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nyancrimew · 7 months ago

Note

saw a meme basically going 'which hacker is gonna step up and wipe away all this student loan debt, morgages, etc.' and was curious as I have very little logistical knowledge of both! What stops you from going "hmmmm I think ill go into a banks records today and start going crazy" on a day to day basis?

people say this stuff all the time because somehow hacking is the one skill where it's expected of you that as soon as you know any of it you can do literally everything, when really that response of "why aren't they doing X instead of smaller hack/hack i vaguely disagree with/hack for money (TO SURVIVE)" is basically the same thing as going up to a random protestor on the street and asking them why they haven't taken over the white house yet.

all forms of resistance require patience and while i wish i could just sit down and when i get up from the computer again the world is perfect that just isn't how the world works. hacktivists (and hackers in general) have had massive positjve material impacts over the last decades and just because the specific thing you want them to do hasn't happened yet doesn't mean we don't want to do that.

and as for why loan forgiveness hacks aren't really a thing, financial hacks are extremely hard, at this point it's basically impossible to steal money from a bank you hack without having to hack a whole number of them, and to truly get rid of something like debt which is info there is tons of copies and backups of is a monumental task which requires massive amounts of stealth and access that no one person alone could pull off and is incredibly risky. computer crime alone is already one of the most harshly policed areas to do activism in and financial crimes would only make it worse and basically impossible not to end up in jail forever.

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bi-writes · 1 month ago

Text

anatomy of us (3) | alpha!ghost x f!omega!reader

type: limited series, part 3 (9.8k), AO3 in an attempt to tame an unruly alpha, you are given. he did not come with warning labels. but neither did you.

series cw: reader described as plus-sized/curvier, alpha/beta/omega dynamics + universe, dark!simon, mature language and content, suggestive language and content, graphic depictions of murder + violence (this part contains graphic depictions of gore + murder + minor character death), military criticism, protective!simon, dubcon (but reader does consent), possessiveness, dom/sub dynamics, size kink, praise kink, unprotected piv, cumplay, oral (fem!receiving) 18+

PART 1 ⏤ PART 2

The mirror betrays you. There’s someone staring back, but it isn’t you. You don’t recognize her. Whoever is there, she’s a traitor. A liar. She stole what used to be your body, and now you can only stare back as she lifts her hands to your face and touches your skin.

It’s warm. Your cheeks are warm to the touch, skin bouncy and firm. When you pull on the apples of your cheeks, they bounce right back, elastic almost. You’re glowing, too. Your skin has never looked so soft, so smooth.

Something’s different.

You bring your hands up and cup your own breasts. When you squeeze, you shudder, realizing how sensitive you are. They ache a little, feel heavier than normal. Your bra feels a little tight, too. Your hands drop and grip the sink firm, and you swallow hard before turning to face the door.

Your body is telling you something. It’s trying to talk to you. It’s natural, you know it is, and it is inevitable, and you shouldn’t hate your omega for it because she can’t help it, but you do. It’s what’s happening to you because you’re off your meds. Your hormones are firing like they never have before, and the voice in your head is starting to talk to you in a way that sounds way too appealing. She’s starting to sound right. You like the way she’s talking to you, especially after…

You haven’t spoken to him yet. You haven’t talked about it. It’s only been a few days, but you don’t think you can sleep next to him for one more night and pretend like you don’t know what it’s like for him to be dick-deep inside of you and satiating the shrill insanity that lives under your skin.

So big. So capable. Isn’t he so strong? I bet he tastes good. Let’s find out.

You open the bathroom door slowly. Simon is sitting there on the bed, phone in his hand. He’s typing, eyes narrowed in thought, and you make the door creak so he knows you’ve come out.

“Everythin’ olright in there?” Simon asks. He doesn’t look up from his phone. You decide to be mean, because you can be. You want to be.

Fuck off, you tell her, try to. All she wants to do is get Simon on his back on that bed.

Can we just suck his dick already? It’s right there.

“What do you care?” You mumble. You go to the closet to pick out something to wear. It’s a Sunday, which means there won’t be much to do today besides relax and eat. Johnny invited you to Mass, which you promptly declined, and you didn’t much feel like spending time with Captain Price or finding out which beta would be underneath Gaz tonight (more than one, would be your guess, but it could’ve been another alpha, too, he doesn’t seem to care as long as he can devour something whole).

You don’t turn around to see Simon’s reaction. Maybe he doesn’t react at all. You grab a pair of jeans and drop your sleep shorts. Ever since Simon had taken you on a roof, you decided it was no use trying to change in the bathroom anymore–he’d seen everything, anyways. You step into the jeans and pull them up, jumping a little to get them over your hips, and just as you’re about to adjust the waist, you feel him come up behind you.

Simon grips both sides of your jeans and hikes them up around your middle. You suck in a breath as he slides his hands around, zipping them up, deft fingers finding the button and fastening them. You huff as he keeps walking, forcing your front flat against the closet doors until he can press his chest up against you from behind.

Remember how good he felt? Let’s do it again. Take them off.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss. Your omega purrs. She softens your insides. You grip the closet, irritated, but you can’t help the way you bend at the hip and push back into him. He snarls as he puts his hands on your hips, holding you there. You can feel her, pushing against you. It’s getting harder every day to shove her backwards–there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to.

Is that part me? Or are we drifting together?

“Wot does it look like?” Simon murmurs. “I smell you.”

Yes, yes, yes, let him. Take it off. Take them off. Let him have it.

“What did I say before?” You let your arms fall, and you smack his hands off of you. You turn around to glare up at him, grinding your teeth. “Boundaries, Simon. You need to ask for permission.”

“I don’t have to do anythin’,” Simon bites back. “I said some things before, too, didn’t I? Y’r mine.”

Oh, that’s how he wants it to be. You can see it in his eyes, the way his alpha is feeding him lies. Feeding into his ego. He’s got tendrils that are choking him from the inside-out, trying to tell him to be the bigger species, the more dominant figure. Your omega wants to let him, but that isn’t you. Fuck submission–it’s just not your style. You’re a taker, not a giver, and your omega will need to learn that the hard way.

You lean up on your toes, pressing your forehead to his. You meet his alpha in the middle, not backing down. You can be nasty, too. You can be dangerous. You might not have his build nor his strength, but omegas have teeth, and they are sharp.

“Then you better sleep with one fucking eye open, Simon. Cause I’ll kill you if you put your hands on me without asking.”

You make sure you hit him on your way around him. You open the drawers of the dresser angrily, ripping a shirt out. You slip your pajama shirt off, tossing it onto the floor, and you fit your bra straps over your shoulder before turning around. Simon is still staring like a dog–eyes watery and intense, staring right at your tits, and you grab a pillow off the bed and throw it at him.

“Oh my god!” You cry, and he sucks on his teeth under the mask.

“Mmm…” He puts a hand over his chest, rubbing there. If he didn’t have it on, you have a feeling he’d a smug grin on his stupid face. “My mate is fuckin’ naked, wot you want me to do, look away?”

“Yes, exactly, you pig,” you mumble, clasping your bra and fixing it to cover yourself before slipping your t-shirt on. You frown as you pick up a clip to tie up your hair. “And we’re not mates.”

“Tha’ right?”

“That’s right,” you say curtly. You turn to give him a hard stare as you slip your boots on. “As far as anyone else can tell, I’m not claimed.” You run a few fingers over your scent gland. Soft. Unmarked. Pulsing.

It’s like you’re taunting him. He snarls a little at that, something low and territorial under the mask.

“Tha’ wot you want? Me to claim you?”

“No,” you stand on your toes, faces barely touching. The air in the room is humid and thick, curling, competing scents making you a little dizzy. “I want you to drop dead.”

It’s half of a lie. It would be funny, you think, to see Simon eat a bullet or catch on fire and perish in a frenzy of equal pain and misery, but you know Kate would just do it all over again to you. There are no shortage of alphas at her disposal. With a swipe of her signature, she can have you moved halfway across the world again, and you’d like to not end up on the CIA’s bad side because you keep spending all their money on flights and bribes to get you some kind of mate that will tolerate an indifferent omega such as yourself.

An unruly one. A terrible one. A decisive one.

You don’t really want Simon dead. Better the beast you know than the one you don’t, and from the time you’ve spent with Simon, he is all bark, no bite.

For now.

Meals are always awkward. You feel like all you and Simon do is snap at each other lately. Call each other names. Spit nasty insults. Maybe it isn’t fair to be angry with Simon; you have a feeling he didn’t have much of a choice, same as you, but it doesn’t matter, because nothing really changes in his life the way it changes in yours.

Simon isn’t the one that loses himself. Simon isn’t the one that has to wear a brand on himself, a permanent reminder of his submission. Simon isn’t the one that has to succumb to things he can’t control about himself–the heats that last for days, the ones that will burn you from the inside out until it gets that nasty fill that your omega was born for.

Ruts just aren’t the same, you don’t believe it. They can swallow them down. Save them for later. It isn’t a comfortable thing to do, but if an alpha is missing their omega, they can satiate themselves with a lazy hand or a soft mouth until they get what they’re searching for.

Omegas aren’t offered the same luxury. If you don’t get what your omega feeds off of, she might kill you–and you don’t need to be reminded that you and your omega aren’t exactly on great terms.

The boys are quiet at breakfast. John has secluded himself in his office for the day, but Simon’s sergeants are pretty quiet for how much they usually babble. They are, however, shoving their faces in with food in a matter that makes you scowl.

They’re dogs, really. Johnny looks positively famished. He’s got his cheeks pillowed with eggs and toast, and you look away from Gaz as he tips his head back to wash down a mouthful of ham with coffee.

You jump when you feel a fist hit the table. It rattles the trays, and Johnny’s orange juice splatters a little outside of the cup. Simon is back from the kitchen, sliding your own tray in front of you. Your mouth waters a little at the smell of the freshly baked croissant and moka pot of coffee that waits for you, and the sergeants grumble a little as they look up at their lieutenant.

“Would you both fuckin’ eat with y’r fuckin’ mouths closed?” Simon snaps. “Bloody rats eat more proper than you lot.”

“What’s the matter, LT?” Johnny gulps down his food, wiping his mouth with a wet thumb. He smiles at you with teeth, and you pick up your fork to busy yourself. You can see feel his crazy eyes on you, trained on your face. He licks over his teeth as he does. “Want us to be proper gentlemen around yer bonnie girl?” He wiggles his tongue at you. “What’s proper about knotting a pretty little omega like tha’, aye? Can smell ‘er from ‘ere…Smell like taffy.”

Simon takes a seat on the bench next to Johnny. You stare wide-eyed as Simon cocks his head to the side. Your eyes water a little as you see Simon slide a big hand up Johnny’s neck. He leans into it, clearly comfortable (you’re going to try and forget this observation), but his face contorts from contentment to sheer pain as Simon wraps his gloved fingers into the curls of his mohawk and pulls. Johnny’s neck snaps back at a hard angle, making him hiss and kick his legs out. They bang against the table, shaking it, and Gaz looks down at his plate as Simon tugs Johnny close to him.

“You listen ‘ere, Sergeant. I’ll say this once, and I won’t repeat it,” Simon growls. “If I hear you say one more word about my mate’s cunt, I’ll rip your throat out with my own teeth. Don’t care ‘ow many times you’ve covered me or saved my arse on the field. My rank is her rank, so from now on, I want you to drop y’r eyes when she looks at you, and I want you to say, yes, ma’am, and nothin’ else, you ‘ear that?” Johnny grits his teeth as Simon shakes his head violently, holding him firm. “And if I hear about it when I’m not around, I’ll let her cut y’r dick off, yeah? Or maybe I’ll let her shoot you in the head again. And trust me, mate, she won’t miss–”

“Simon,” you interrupt gently. Simon’s face turns, and you meet his eyes. You shake your head a little. “It’s…it’s okay. Johnny’s just a huge flirt, and it came out wrong. Didn’t it, Johnny?”

Simon closes his fist, letting out a sharp breath. His eyes are a little darker than you’re used to. You’re not sure he’ll listen to you, but when you see his fingers start to loosen, you relax a little. You don’t understand why he’s defending you, anyways, but maybe Simon has some twisted moral code when it comes to insulting his mate.

That only he gets to, and no one else.

“Yeah–” Johnny spits, and when Simon lets him go roughly, Johnny just laughs a little. His cheeks are rosy, and he tries to shake it off, but you can tell by the way he averts his eyes and the smell that wafts from him–Johnny is terrified of his lieutenant.

Simon stands, making the table rattle again. Johnny’s cup spills over the edge, and your cutlery falls to the floor as he makes his way out of the mess hall, throwing the doors open and letting them slam shut behind him. You scoff, rolling your eyes, and you swipe Gaz’s fork from his tray before continuing to eat.

“What the fuck is his problem?” You stab your sausage with the fork, cutting it angrily, and Johnny clears his throat. His rubs the back of his neck, rolling it out carefully.

“Yer serious?” Johnny scoffs. “Fuckin’ big man is in love with ye.”

Not me. He’s in love with…her.

“He’s just mad because he thinks he’s the only one entitled to say anything derogatory to me,” you explain. “He’s such an asshole, I swear. So are you, Johnny, by the way–I’m not gonna wet your dick for you, go flirt with someone else.”

Gaz snorts, shaking his head, and you pour him a little more coffee from the pot Simon left for you and some for yourself.

“Kind of sweet, innit?” Gaz murmurs. “He cares about you, you know.”

“Yeah?” You raise a brow. “Has a real funny way of showing it. You don’t see him when we’re alone. He’s mean. I don’t know what goes on in your heads, but your kind jump to conclusions. And you assume. And you’re too aggressive.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Gaz asks. He turns to look at you, shrugging. “That’s how we’re made.”

“I try everyday to be anything but how I’m made,” you say lowly.

It’s a lousy excuse, especially for an operative like him. Kyle and Johnny are no strangers to aversion or high-stakes. There is combat, and then there is what this team does. You’ve peeked at the papers on Simon’s desk. You’ve read the files you have no clearance to read. For the air-headedness that Simon radiates, he’s excellent at writing post-op reports, with fine detail. He doesn’t miss anything. This team isn’t something like SWAT–they don’t carry big guns for show and break down suburban houses. They hit foreign targets without a trace and eliminate threats before they blink. They are in and out of a building in thirty minutes, and they leave no man behind and no target alive. Each of them are experts in their own subject, and even with Johnny’s big, disgusting mouth, you cannot deny what makes him special.

He could make an explosive out of regular kitchen supplies; maybe even out of the toiletries you keep in a go-bag. His affection for chemistry is as equal to that of a good, protein-rich meal. Kyle is no different–you’ve seen him just for fun program an auto-correct feature into John’s laptop that replaced every word that he typed that started with a vowel to shitfucker. You saw him do it remotely. Over Bluetooth. With a Blackberry.

These aren’t just operators. These aren’t just idiot, self-engorged, misogynistic and animalistic men that panted and waited for orders like lovesick puppies, they are much too intelligent and way too self-aware. You won’t take that’s how we’re made as an excuse–it’s beneath them, if you’re being honest, and it’s infuriating. They aren’t a normal pack, and they never will be, and so you need them to stop using stereotypical excuses as reason for them being just like the rest.

It is conscious. It’s disgusting. It’s exactly as you thought it would be.

“Well maybe if ye tried that less, tried just being what ye are…things would be easier for ye,” Johnny mutters, picking up his overturned cup and sighing sharply through his nose. You drop your fork and lean forward on your elbows.

Oh, alright. If Johnny wants to play rank, then you can play rank.

“You know, you both have a lot of nerve,” you say lowly. “I would start being very fucking nice to me from now on. Simon and I may not get along, and maybe we never will. But he sure as shit won’t stand aside if tuck my tail between my legs and blame one of you for something you didn’t do.”

“Thought you said he hated you?” Gaz mocks. “Thought you said he was mean?”

You stand up and shove your tray towards them, starting to walk. You lean over to murmur in Gaz’s ear.

“He is,” you threaten. “But he’s still an alpha, my alpha, and pussy talks, Gaz. You’d know. You’ve been drooling for it since I sat down. I can smell you, too.”

You pat Gaz’s cheek a bit too roughly, and he snarls a little. You smile to yourself as you make your way out, and down the hall, you see a familiar shadow disappear around the corner into the darkness. You cross your arms over your chest, sighing, and then you start towards it.

When you round the corner, he’s standing right there. Leaned against the wall, big arms crossed over his chest. His face twitches under the mask. You move to stand in front of him so you can get his eyes.

“You know, for someone who doesn’t want to babysit me, you can’t seem to leave me alone.”

“I have others to answer to if something happens to you.”

“Don’t act like you care what other people think. Especially your superiors.” You roll your eyes. You don’t have much more time to talk to him. Or berate him, you were still deciding. A shadow comes up next to you, and when you turn, Captain Price is staring at you both, nodding his head behind him.

“I need to have a word. With both of you.”

You give Simon a look, but he doesn’t give one back. He merely slips a hand down your back and puts you in front of him, ushering you to walk. You’ve never been reprimanded by a superior, not because of a mission or anything of stake, so you can’t help the feeling that overcomes you–something of failure.

Had you done something wrong? Surely you had.

John’s office is bigger than Simon’s, but just as messy. Messier. There’s a pretty beta secretary out in front of it, and she smiles at you and waves. She’s too cute–too sweet. She probably puts sugar in John’s tea to make him smile or draws little smiley faces on messages from missed calls. You pity her and wish you were her all the same. When she notices your solemn face, she shrinks and dips her head, picking up her pen and continuing to fill out some forms.

John waits for both you and Simon to sit before shutting his office door behind him. He sucks on his teeth before tossing his hat onto his desk, nodding towards the two creaky seats in front of him.

“Sit.”

“Rather stand,” Simon counters, but one hard look from his captain, and Simon is begrudgingly taking a seat. The metal creaks under his weight, and you take a seat next to him. John sits on his desk in front of you both, and he looks at Simon before ending on you.

The scents in the air are driving you insane. You take a breath to try and keep your eyes from watering, but it’s difficult.

“You know, Kit, our team isn’t known for…following the rules,” John begins. “But I was assured that…if anything went wrong, that my lieutenant here would be responsible. He vouched for you.”

You fold your hands in your lap. You prepare yourself for the beratement. You sit up a little straighter, squaring your shoulders. The neutral expression your face falls into seems to irk your captain. He scrunches his nose a bit, smoothing a palm over the papers in front of him. He’s trying to establish his air of dominance, but it’s increasingly easy to stare him back down when your alpha sits right beside you.

There’s comfort in his presence, and your omega feeds on it.

“I saw you shoot. Got a good eye for those kinds of things, I’ll admit,” John nods. “And you did well in training. Followed Simon. His orders. Saw you clearin’ rooms like you’ve been on this team for years.” He grins, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Blue, but empty. “He was right. Fast learner. You know your place.” You narrow your eyes at that, and he hums. “But it doesn’t change what this is. What you are.”

You’re surprised at the way your omega curls in your gut. Angry. There’s an alpha insulting you, but this one isn’t yours. She warms your hands, and you dig your nails into your chair to keep her calm. She wants to bite, and she’s confident with Simon at her side.

“An asset?” You try talking instead.

“A liability.” John leans forward. “You put my men in danger. Going into heat like that.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. It’s alienation. You are an outsider. Not part of his pack. John draws a circle around himself, and you are not included in it, and the sentiment leaks into his words like a flood, and it hits you through the chest. Your lip trembles just slightly, but you swallow down the rejection, keeping it close. Your omega whimpers–an alpha, though it is not your own, is isolating you, and it hurts her.

“She didn’t–” Simon is interrupted by John’s laughter.

“You were off comms for 15 minutes and 37 seconds, an amount of time that during an op is fucking critical and could’ve blown the entire operation!” John snaps. “I told you to be fucking careful, I told you both to take precautions, and you failed me. I can understand you–” He points at you, and omega lingers unsaid, “but you, Simon? You–”

“It wasn’t his fault, it was mine,” you interrupt. “I should’ve known.”

“He’s your alpha, it’s his fuckin’ job,” John clarifies. “But Simon has more than one job, and on that day, it was keeping the target in his sight and waiting for my fuckin’ say.”

“Don’t reprimand him for making the call,” you tell him. “I’m the one who misread what I was feeling. I’m the one who distracted him from what he was doing. I’m the one who was projecting so badly, he had to help. It’s me. I screwed up. I’m just as much of your team as they are, so hold me accountable, not Simon.”

“You are not on my team, you are my problem.”

She wails. She grips your heart in both hands and hangs on, crying, wailing, begging you to say something to make him approve of you. She so desperately wants to be included in Simon’s pack, and it aches inside to be pushed away. You dig your nails in further, and you don’t realize how much your scent is flaring. Simon gets one whiff of it and snarls. His hands close into fists.

You goin’ to let tha’ wanker talk to your mate tha’ way? You goin’ to let another alpha walk all over her? He’s challenging you, tha’s wot this is, innit?

“Choose y’r next words wisely, Captain.” Simon finally speaks, and his tone rattles you. His voice dips low, and you can hear his alpha soaking into his words, and the bitterness in the air has to be him deciding whether or not today would be a good day to stand up to his captain.

“Tha’ right, Simon?” John murmurs. “Is that an order?”

Simon stands. Immediately, the humidity in the room expands, and you nearly choke from the sting of their scents in the air. Simon is much larger than John. He’s so much bigger, so much wider. You stand, too, and when Simon feels your hand along his bicep, his shoulders loosen just an inch.

Your omega may beg for approval and inclusion, but even she stands down when you remind her of the importance of pack bonds. You are not mated, and Simon has his own to keep, so you must appease. It hurts to do it, but you know you will thank yourself later.

“I’m sorry, Captain,” you say softly. “I-It won’t happen again. I swear…I promise.” Your eyes water, and you try to hold in the cough you’re holding. “First time…and the last time.”

Simon’s task force is a unique group. Four alphas–a lot of ego and fighting dominance in one bunch. It’s normally not done. They like to have a nice mix of betas and alphas to keep groups balanced, but Kate needed an exceptional group, so she built one. Four alphas in one pack is not common, but it works–and she has the stats to prove it.

You wonder if she knew what would happen when she threw you into the mix. How each of them might react when an omega tried to slip in between them. If Kyle would try to sink his teeth in. If Johnny would pass out from panting so fucking hard. If John would let his resolve slip for just long enough to blur the lines between a commanding officer and his subordinate.

Maybe Simon reacted just as she expected. That he would see what was meant just for him and pull her apart so he could slip under her ribs and stay right there. You have not been claimed, and yet–it is truth. They know it, Simon knows it, you know it, and so does your omega.

Simon paces in his room. A slow pace, but paces, and you observe him from your place on the bed as he breathes deeply. His alpha is leaking through the cracks, and you can smell his anger. It fumes, makes your nose curl. It’s a bitter scent. Your omega purrs in your chest–she wants to soothe him.

We will do no such thing. Shut the fuck up.

“You need to let me handle things when we get cornered like tha’.”

“I’m a big girl, Simon,” you say softly. “And it was my mistake.”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter,” Simon explains. “I’m your alpha.”

“I don’t care,” you shake your head. “You don’t speak for me.”

“No, I speak for us both,” Simon points a finger at you, coming closer. “For you and for me, and you need to understand tha’.”

You glare up at him. In all the time you’ve spent with him, he’s still letting his alpha bleed when he’s angry. You need to understand nothing–Simon needs to learn. He needs to learn that the omega they write about in textbooks isn’t reality. You fight your omega tooth and nail for control, and you are still on top for now. Simon needs to learn this. He needs to learn that you are not easily influenced by command. You may smell like an omega. You may keen like an omega.

But it’ll be a cold day in hell before I submit like an omega.

“Fuck you.”

Don’t talk like that…you know you want to.

“Ya already ‘ave, kitty,” Simon spits. “Would you like to go again?”

“I know this is hard for you to get through your thick head,” you whisper. “But just because I fucked you doesn’t mean anything. What happened between us was clinical. Your dick is medicine, and there was nothing I could do, and that is where this ends. You can tell yourself over and over again that you are my mate…that you’re my hero, that you saved me, but maybe next time, I’ll just let my omega kill me. The thought of you inside of me ever again makes me physically fucking sick.”

You’re a bad liar.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say lowly. He leans closer, until his face is nearly against yours. “You’re a pathetic, insecure, waste of space. I will never be your mate, and I pity every omega that might come after me, that has the unfortunate mistake of thinking you could claim them with any sense at all. You use and you abuse, and you have your head so far up your ass, I don’t think you know what’s real and what isn’t.”

Simon stares. You stare back. Your chest heaves, and so does his, and you keep your eyes on each other as you stare back and forth. His eyes are so dark. Beautiful, but so dark, it’s difficult to tell what he’s thinking. It’s not long that you notice his lashes fade to blonde at the end of them. His skin, where it bleeds from the eye-black he wears to the pale color of his face, has freckles scattered around the eyes. You can see the raised, white line of a scar that is just peeking from under the mask.

Isn’t he so pretty?

“On your knees,” Simon murmurs.

It’s whiplash. One moment, your entire body is buzzing. Angry, fiery–you can feel it shaking you. You hate him with ever fiber, want to smack the smug look you know he wears under that mask. You hate the power that he has over you and how much he relishes in it. The next moment, in a few slow words, it vanishes.

Like it was never even there at all.

“Excuse me?” You breathe.

“On your knees. Lose the pants. ‘n y’r knickers.”

“What makes you–”

“Won’t ask again.”

We need this. We need this. We need this.

It’s just that easy. For all the resolve that it feels like you have, maybe you really have none. You blink, but then he hears the sound of you toeing off your boots. They hit the floor, and then your cargos are falling on top of them, and then you’re turning over, sliding along the warm sheets of his bed until you’re lying on your tummy, ass up, and you’re closing your eyes as his gloved hands push your panties down your thighs until they’re around your knees.

You don’t really know who’s doing it. You’re afraid to think about it too hard, because you know that it just might be you.

He eats nasty. All tongue. He spreads your ass with big palms, and you gurgle when he kisses your folds with tongue. Your brain starts to fog, and you relax easily. He kisses soft and slow, but wet. You fist the blankets, pushing back, and he slides a thumb down to smooth over your puffy clit very gently. He hisses when he sees your hole flex in response, a drop of slick falling onto his palm.

“Kitty, why didn’t ya just say so?” Simon asks, stupid and fascinated by you. “Why didn’t you just say you wanted y’r pretty pussy kissed, hmm?”

“Because I hate you–” You whine, and Simon slips his tongue inside of you. You babble, your mouth dropping open, and he hums as he gets a taste of you before pulling back, smacking his lips. The taste of you spreads across his tongue, and his alpha howls. He’s never spoken to him this way, not really. The only time his alpha has ever really come to the forefront like this was the times he thought he was close to death; but Simon’s never been this close to life, either.

“I know,” he coos. “I know ya do. But this isn’t personal, is it?” He uses his thumbs to open you up, growling when he sees your hole pucker a little. A dribble of slick falls, and he catches it with his tongue, swallowing it down. “How’d ya put it, luv? ‘s medicine?”

“Your dick is medicine.”

“My mouth, too, I reckon.”

“Shut the fuck up, and eat me, baby,” you whimper, and he opens his mouth wide and licks with a thick tongue. He presses his mouth to your cunt and eats, bobbing his head as he alternates between slobbering licks and eager sucking. His tongue slides between your folds occasionally before slipping into you, and you curl your toes every time he brushes against your clit. His thumb will sometimes circle it, or his tongue will suck softly, but he never stays there too long. Simon likes to tease. He likes to make you a little desperate, likes to get you soft and drippy and dizzy, and then he gives in a little. He gives you two fingers, gloved still, and you push back against his face with gentle grinds as he fucks you softly with his hand. It’s agony and relief all at once.

“Like tha’?” He asks. He sounds amused. You hope his hard cock gets pinched by his zipper.

“Mmm–” You try. You arch your back, getting up onto your elbows, and Simon uses his free hand to give one side of your ass a nice smack, jiggling it gently before kissing where he hit. You giggle at that, soft and airy.

“Answer me, omega.”

“Fucking love it,” you gasp. “Big fingers–”

Simon laughs at that. You can smell his ego, but you don’t have it in you to say something smart. It’s true. Even with his hand, he fucks good, hitting deep. His mouth did wonders, and you’re dripping along his hand. His glove is soaked, and his forearm is wet, and when you glance down at the sheets, they are damp and dark with the mess you made. Simon doesn’t seem to mind. He leans in to eat more, pulling his fingers out so he can use his mouth again, tongue deep as he sucks and hinges that big jaw to get a mouthful of you and groan. You taste good–nice and sweet, thick juices wetting his chin, and he squeezes your ass in appreciation when you throw it back and smother him. He likes this. Likes the lack of air, the wet pussy, the soft whines. He’s content here, and he doesn’t seem like he wants to move anytime soon, and he doesn’t complain. He just opens his mouth and swirls and tongue and fuck–your clit is in his mouth, and you’re crying.

It’s too kind. An alpha kneeling for their mate. Taking pleasure in their pleasure. It’s not unheard of, but it’s…unorthodox. It confuses you. Your omega cries with happiness, but she’s confused, too. She doesn’t expect pleasure just for pleasure–but she wants it, she wants more of it, she’s digging her nails into your skin to try and get you to convince Simon to give you more, more, more.

“Give it to me,” Simon murmurs. “‘s olright. Give it to me.”

“Simon–”

“Mhm,” he nods, cocking his head and taking your clit into his mouth again. “Give it ‘ere.”

Your orgasm hits hard, but it’s nice and slow. Your thighs shake, but Simon sinks into you, breathing out through his nose as he delicately laps at your clit. He doesn’t stop, swallowing as you come into his mouth, keeping the pace to make sure your orgasm fizzles just as good as it hit you.

You sink to your tummy when he pulls away. Your knees give out, and he slips your panties completely off, and you flop onto the dry side of the bed. You start to cry. Not tears of relief, but tears of pain. Of what is inevitable. Of the hard truth that you loathe more than anything.

Simon can never force you. You will always want him, you think. There will always be something in the back of your mind that aches for him, and you try and you try and you try to fight it off, but you want him so viscerally, it cuts you deep where you’ll never notice it.

“Say wotever you want about me,” Simon mutters. “Tell yourself wotever you want that helps you sleep at night, hate me oll you want. But I take care of wot’s mine.” He strokes your hair out of your eyes, leaning down, and you cry harder. You clutch a pillow, hug it tight, and your eyes flutter open as you look at him. His mask is still hiked up just under his nose, and you can see half his face. Scars that cut across him like paintbrush strokes, adding texture and depth where there shouldn’t be.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” you whisper. “You have no idea what it’s like for every single part of yourself to betray what you want. You don’t get it. Y-You don’t understand, you never will. You will always have the upper hand, and y-you will never know what it’s like to not have a choice.”

Simon continues to brush through your hair with his fingers. Soothing you gently, coaxing you into a headspace that feels like white noise. You whine, and Simon comes closer. He presses his mouth to your forehead, soft, gentle, his scent close enough that your beating heart slows down considerably just in response.

“No, I won’t,” Simon agrees. “But that’s what you are. You’re an omega.”

He says it like it’s so simple. Like it explains everything in the entire world. Being an omega is the simplest answer he could ever give, and it explains every variable, every nuance, every quirk that makes you you. It explains every time you sink to your knees for him. It explains how easily you let him fuck you on a rooftop in a foreign country. It explains how even though you hate him with every fiber of your being, there is somehow no one else you want standing over you now.

“I’m still me.”

“No,” Simon shakes his head. “You cannot change wot you are. You’re fighting her, and you will lose.”

You wonder, for just a second, if Simon is speaking from experience. Have there been times when his alpha takes over? Does it take control? Are there times when he looks in the mirror, too, and doesn’t know who is staring back?

“I hate her, too,” you spit. “I hate her, and I hate you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his terrible face. The first one you’ve ever seen. You hate the urge you have to lean forward and kiss it.

“She is you.”

“Then I hate me. I hate myself.”

Simon changes the sheets silently. He picks you up and moves you when he has to–two big, burly arms picking you up like you’re a feather. You cling to his neck, studying him, and you find yourself not being able to look away. He’s so capable. He’s so independent. He’s so reactive to your needs, it infuriates you, how could one man be so in tune with you, more than yourself?

He drapes all new blankets over you. He turns out most of the lights, except for the low glow of the yellow lamp on his desk. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm, and then he bends down to say something to you, in your ear.

“Dunno wot you think,” he tells you, “but there will be no omega after you.” His voice drops low, and when you close your eyes, you hear his alpha. Threatening, affirmative, exact. “You are mine. I’ll not ‘ave another. The sooner you accept tha’, the easier things’ll be for you.”

Mine, mine, mine–

“Eat a dick.”

Mine, mine, mine–

“Much prefer y’r cunt, kitty.”

Simon’s protection is instinctual. It’s not really a choice, it’s subconscious. He watches you braid your hair in your room, observes as you tuck it behind your ears and tie it off your face. He hovers as you gear up. Watches you buckle your belt, strap your tact vest, adjust your helmet. He comes over after you’ve laced your boots, tugging on your vest to make sure it’s secure and fastening your helmet for you. You let him as you clip your watch on, closing your eyes as he smooths a thumb across your cheek and turns you towards the door.

It’s a long flight. You fall asleep, your face smushed against his arm, and when you wake up, Simon is still sitting there, hands on his knees, staring straight ahead. John smokes, Gaz has a folded up little book in his hand with what seems like sudoku pages, and Johnny is twirling what looks like a fidget spinner in one hand. You blink awake, but it’s dark out, pitch-black.

That’s the job. Dark, where you can use night as cover. Stealth. You and Simon have been tasked with clearing out one building on your own. Several stories, possible targets inside, presumed armed and dangerous. You were given the clear to eliminate any threats on sight–the op is capture or kill, and John made that very clear in a small room that reeked of his authority.

The bird drops you a few kilometers from where your target building lies. You flip the night-vision down, flicking it on, and you stick to Simon like glue as you follow him silently through empty streets. You’re somewhere in Eastern Europe, somewhere cold and unfeeling and just on the border of Russia. You aren’t privy to any more details; all you know is that your mission is to be Simon’s cover, and you have the face of your target memorized and burned into the back of your eyes.

You spot your target building at the end of the block. The streetlight flickers, and it looks like a low-income apartment building. It’s very small, dilapidated, with a peeling entrance door that has the window broken, hastily patched up with duct tape. It’s no trouble for Simon to stick the scope of his rifle through the duct table and shred the remaining glass to pieces, putting his hand through the window and unlocking the door easily.

The first few floors are clear. Simon always enters a room first, with you in quick succession. You are silent, touch and go, soft taps on shoulders that the both of you can read immediately. You’re in tune with him. When he steps left, so do you. When he turns, you cover, when he sweeps up, you sweep down. It’s a dance, a very well coordinated one, and it lets Simon breathe easier when he realizes how well you’ve adapted to each other over a short period of time.

Just a few weeks, and you are two sides of each other.

Simon swallows down the prideful purr in his chest. Now isn’t the time to get distracted.

When you make your way to the top floor, just below the roof, your chest starts to feel warm. You pause at the top of the stairs as Simon keeps his rifle trained at the first door in front of him. You swallow hard, widening your stance to keep yourself upright. You shake your head, trying to toss the jitters off of you. Your throat hurts as the saliva goes down.

Simon clears the room with you shuffling close behind. You blink rapidly when you see two of Simon, and he whips around suddenly. You can see him through your night vision stiffening in front of you. Shoulders tensing, fingers gripping his rifle tighter. You pause as he comes close to you, and your eyes water when he lifts one hand from his gun to cup your face gently.

You know what he’s asking. You nod shakily, and he taps his wrist with two fingers.

Give me two minutes, is what he’s saying to you.

You don’t get two minutes.

The door behind you slams open. Two men breach inside, and they come at you with a force too strong, and you go flying towards the far wall. Your back hits it hard, and you collapse onto the ground. Your whole body aches, and you know there will an array of nasty bruises under the skin. Your helmet took the brunt of the hit, but you still feel dizzy as it falls off your head, clattering to the ground. You cough, scrambling for your rifle that is a few feet away from you now, and Simon drops one of them with a few easy bullets, but the second man uses his dead companion as cover, throwing the body at Simon until he can lunge at him.

Simon swipes the blade out of his boot and goes for his weak spots. He manages to get him under the arm, across his thigh, but Simon is wearing a lot of gear, and with the weight of a dead alpha getting tossed at him again, he gets moved backwards enough to lose his footing, and then it happens.

The man’s gun fires, and it goes straight for Simon’s head. A flash of light that seals some sick sort of fate that you know can’t be yours. It’s not you that screams in response.

It is your omega.

You launch yourself at him. In your daze, your omega finds clarity, and she seizes her moment. You slip the blade out of its place in your thigh holster, and you toss a nearby chair at him to incapacitate his gun. It gets trapped underneath it, enough time for you to jump and land on him from behind.

He’s an alpha. Physically, you should be no match for him given your size differences, but something else is taking over. Your nails don’t just grab, they pierce his skin. Digging it, shredding flesh, and you bring your blade down over and over again against his chest. He screams in pain, trying to wriggle you off. You lock your ankles around his middle, keeping your hand coming, tearing with your nails and slicing with your knife, but he manages to get an arm underneath you and throw you off.

You hit the ground again roughly, but it doesn’t stop your omega. She gets right back up, but he tackles you. He uses his weight to pin you down, and the knife rings as it slides across the room, but your omega doesn’t let it stop her. He got too close, and she will make sure he regrets it.

He went for your mate, and she cannot have that. She won’t survive without him. Unclaimed, but she doesn’t care–Simon is hers, and she won’t let him go without something all-encompassing and violent. He’ll have to pry Simon out of her dead hands. You feel like you’re watching from the sidelines. You’re not yourself. It’s the first time that you don’t really care.

You scream, leaning up, and he doesn’t get a moment to think before you sink your teeth into the plush of his scent gland and rip it clean out.

Fuck. There’s blood gushing everywhere, spurting from where you’ve severed the gland. The gland is precious, anatomically–it provides most of the oxygen to the brain, and it’s what seals the bond. While it can’t be marked the same way an omega’s can, an alpha can’t survive without it. You’re finding out just how precious it is as you watch an alpha cough and sputter once he realizes what’s happening to him.

He crawls off of you, trying to use his hand to put pressure to his neck, but it’s no use. He leans against the wall and chokes, blood filling his mouth, and you spit out the flesh from between your teeth as you watch him gurgle and kick his feet out. He reaches out for you, pleading in his eyes, but you feel no mercy. There’s tears coming down his face now, and you watch with a scowl as the blood spills between his fingers instead of bringing his brain precious life.

Good fucking riddance.

You turn over once you’re satisfied he won’t get up. You see Simon still sprawled on his back behind you, and you scramble to get to him. You grab his helmet and throw it off, and you start to cry, feeling around and realizing there’s something sticky oozing and pooling onto your fingers. You can’t see very well in the dark, but you put pressure anyways, unsure of what you’re dealing with. Your heartbeat is loud, and it echoes in your ears.

“No–No!” You gasp. You grab Simon’s radio, hands shaking as you press down onto the button.

“Bravo-6, d-do you c-copy?” You cry. “Bravo-6, answer–please–”

“Kit?” John’s voice comes out surprised, low. “What happened?”

“Si–Ghost–” You sob, “W-We need a medevac! Medevac–top floor–”

Your hands continue to shake as you reach for the bottom of his mask and rip it off. It’s the first time you’ve seen him without the mask, but you need to know. You need to know.

His face–it is a little ugly. The eye-black is smeared across his freckles, bleeding across his face from the sweat. He has scars everywhere; they criss-cross along his cheek, cut his lips, but you ignore that as you lean down and put your ear to his mouth.

His breaths come shallow and slow.

You cry with relief, feeling around with your fingers. When all you feel is blood, you pick up his helmet and cry harder when you notice the side of the helmet has been grazed, and the bullet casing lies near his head.

He had missed.

He missed.

You cup his face, tapping his cheeks gently, trying to wake him up.

“Simon?” You whisper, sniffling. “Simon, wake up. Please wake up. Please–”

You can’t carry him. Even if you tried to get your omega to help you, you aren’t physically strong enough to pick him up and carry him out. He’s too big and too heavy, and you wouldn’t be useful anyways; you’d be without cover trying to haul his ass to a bird that’s just too far away.

“Simon–”

He coughs. You gasp, wrapping an arm under him and trying to sit him up. He’s so much heavier with all of his gear on, but you do it anyways, lifting him up and laying his head in your lap. You lean down, pressing your forehead to his, and you cup the back of his neck.

“I thought he killed you–” You sob. Simon hums, his eyes opening and closing, and you smooth a few fingers down his cheek, relieved to hear him breathe. In and out, in and out, low and slow as he blinks away the spots in his vision.

Your eyes meet. It’s not a look you were expecting. You expected him to be angry, but he’s not. He’s looking at you like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. You must look a sight, you think. There must be blood on your face, staining your teeth, but all of your senses are dulled as you try and read him.

Your hands shake as you brush a bit of dust off his face. Your fingers are trembling, but it’s grounding to touch him and see him blink those dark eyes up at you. God, he’s not ugly, no, he’s gorgeous. He’s so beautiful. He’ll never be prettier than the way he is now. Raw and vulnerable–Simon is most himself here, you think, stuck in the in-between of an operation. This is where he must feel everything the most. You open your mouth to say something else, to ask him if he’s okay, but then his face scrunches when he finally realizes where you are.

“On the door,” Simon mutters. “Get y’r gun on the fuckin’ door.”

“Simon–”

“Now!”

You scramble to reach for the handgun in your thigh holster, turning to get up on your knees and cover the door. You will your hands to stop shaking, gripping the handle of the gun tight to keep them steady. You can hear Simon getting himself together behind you. Shuffling onto his feet, picking up his rifle and his helmet. When you look over your shoulder for just a second, you notice his mask is back on.

“Bravo-7 to Bravo-6, east building clear,” Simon rasps. He shoves his way past you, rattling you a little, and you stare at his back, defeated, as he clears the rest of the floor before making his way up the last flight of stairs. You hear your captain responding on comms, but you’re not paying enough attention. Simon slams the roof door shut once its behind you, and you wipe your eyes as Simon gets situated for overwatch as you cover the door.

“Simon, are you–”

“I don’t want to hear another word outta you unless we got contact on this fuckin’ roof,” Simon interrupts.

“I saved your ass!” You cry. “I did that! He would’ve killed you, you fucking asshole, so for once in your life, can you just look at me and say a fucking thank you?!”

Maybe Simon’s right. If you fight your omega, maybe you will lose. She might just kill you. You know she can. You’ve seen it happen before. Omegas that didn’t listen, losing themselves to the insanity of their inner struggle. It’s a violent end. It’s like they electrocute from the inside-out. Their minds betray them, and they let it take over, and with no alpha to soothe them, they’re just gone. If they drift too far, you can’t get yourself back.

Use me. I know what to do. I can get him back.

You do the only other thing you can try; you let your omega do the talking. The sweet, syrupy voice. The soft lilt. The edge that glides, doesn’t cut, the one that will hit his ear just right and hopefully get his alpha tick-tick-ticking inside of his head. The one that didn’t work on Kate–but Kate was not your mate. Kate never responded to you at all, not the way Simon does, and Kate has never tasted your cunt. Her alpha doesn’t know what she’s missing.

I can do it. Let me in.

“Please, Simon,” you beg. You see his fingers twitch as he adjusts the scope on his rifle. They falter, adjusting it just a few degrees too far. Simon doesn’t make mistakes, but then again he’s never had his omega purring in his ear like that. “Please.”

You make your way to him, curling a hand around his bicep. You tug him closer, trying to get him to look at you. He resists, but it’s a pathetic kind of resistance. The kind that you can overpower with just another firm tug. You can sense it, his hesitance, and your omega giggles in your head.

I have him. I can do it. Don’t worry.

“John was right,” Simon breathes. “You’re a problem. A liability.”

A liability because he doesn’t belong to anyone but you, maybe. He’s John’s liability. Not yours. Simon may be a part of their pack, but they should’ve picked up a fucking book when they knew you were coming. Submissiveness might be an inherent “trait” of your kind, but you realize now that is just a lie that alphas tell omegas to keep them quiet.

To keep them soft. To keep them begging. It’s probably something that your kind have learned over time, so distinct that you inherit it from someone that came before you, but you’re convinced that this kind of obedience and docility can be unlearned. It can be used.

If an omega cries, it would be stupid for an alpha to ignore it. It’s in their DNA–with just a soft whine, you can make Simon drop that rifle and bend you over any surface. They say it is for your sake. They say it is because omegas must be serviced or else they will succumb to themselves, but that isn’t what this is, and that’s not why omegas aren’t allowed in the field.

They’re not allowed because you can make Simon defy orders; because John can tell Simon something, and you can tell him something else, and you’re almost certain you know which way Simon will lean.

“Please just look at me, Simon,” you whisper. “Please.”

You cradle his face when he finally does. Your palms touch his wet mask, likely soaked with his own blood. You stand on your toes and draw his face closer to yours.

Fuck them for making you feel small. Fuck them for making you feel less than. Fuck anyone that ever made you feel like you were anything but in control, including her. If she just explained what she could do, this could’ve been a lot easier. If she just told you what she was capable of, you could’ve worked together. You could’ve given her what she wanted, and she could’ve given you what you wanted, and it could’ve been so much simpler.

“Gonna get me fuckin’ killed,” Simon growls. You start to cry again. Not because what he’s saying hurts you, but because he’s still bleeding, and all you can see when you close your eyes is that gun firing right at his head.

This is your ticket. This is your way out. Fuck Kate for making you believe that all you were meant for was being in his bed. You’re so close–aren’t you? You didn’t realize how close you were, but now you do, and you know exactly what to do.

You’re going to make them very, very sorry. You’re going to make them regret ever letting you inside. Your divisive, spitfire nature was not your line of defense. It was the indication of the future you always dreamed of, the future that is one bite-mark away from being tangible. You can taste it, like you taste what Simon wants in the air.

I can do it. I can help you. Let me in.

There was never a reason to be afraid. If anything, they should’ve been afraid of you.

You kiss him. It’s not a proper kiss, because his face is still covered, but you kiss Simon anyways. His cheeks warm, and his lips part, and you kiss him softly over and over as you take his face into your hands. When his arm slides around your waist, your omega is comfortable letting your knees buckle.

She knows already that Simon will catch you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon

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incognit0slut · 8 months ago

Text

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors

Your admiration of his vest leads you to an empty office with his face buried between your thighs—and an urgent Emily demanding your whereabouts.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) soft!dom spence (are we even surprised), fingering, oral sex (f), semi-public, slight overstimulation, and Emily kind of overhears because she calls Reader in the middle of the deed (oops). 5k words

A/n: I don’t have any excuse for this one, I just wanted to rewrite this scene of him because looking at it is not enough

You heard him before you saw him. It wasn't his voice per se, but the distinct sound of rapid shots cutting through the air. The noise seemed to intensify as you stepped into the control room, almost overbearing, but you'd long since grown used to its piercing sound.

"Is that Reid?" You asked, your polished boots echoing into the confined space. The officer monitoring him through the surveillance camera glanced over at you, and even though her expression didn't betray outright displeasure, you could hear a subtle edge in her voice.

"Agent Y/L/N," she greeted, her eyes darting between the rows of monitors, then to you, and finally settling on the clipboard in her hand. "You're not supposed to be here."

"Actually, I am. It’s Tuesday, my usual training day.”

"Not for another hour."

"I know," you countered, holding up your wrist to check your watch. "But I have some spare time, thought I’d come by early."

“I’m afraid it’s occupied right now. Agent Reid is still in the middle of his test."

This caught your attention. "What test?"

She glanced at you, her expression conflicted. "It's just a routine evaluation."

"He's currently not an active agent," you pointed out. It hadn’t been too long since his release from prison. It didn’t make any sense for him to go through an evaluation, not when he was behind bars for the past few weeks. Then recognition dawned on your face. "He's being evaluated to rejoin the team, isn't he?"

"I... I'm not at liberty to discuss that," she replied. Her gaze faltered momentarily before she nodded slowly, confirming your suspicions. "But yes, it's standard procedure for agents returning from extended leave."

"Oh wow—okay," you responded, absorbing the information. Your eyes flickered towards the monitor. "How's he doing?"

Her lips formed a thoughtful line before she answered, "Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp."

You let out a laugh, finding the comparison amusing. You'd known Spencer for what, three, four years? While he wasn't bad with firearms, comparing him to a historical figure like Wyatt Earp seemed a bit exaggerated. However, as you watched him through the monitors, despite your initial skepticism, you couldn't deny the truth in her words.

You had witnessed him handle a gun countless times, but always in situations where there was a real threat, where you both had to be on high alert. Yet as you observed him now from a different perspective, it was hard to tear your eyes away. It was as if he was in his element, and Spencer Reid in his element never looked so... attractive?

Now that wasn't an exaggeration. Although you had never admitted this to anyone—god forbid what your teammates would say—there was an undeniable charm to the confidence he exuded. While Spencer had always been attractive, there was something different about the way he handled the gun.

You were sure it had something to do with his time in prison. After all, who wouldn't be affected by such a daunting place, especially when you weren’t supposed to be there in the first place? Yet, surprisingly, Spencer seemed to be coping better than you expected. Despite the toll it must have taken on him, it was evident that his experiences had shaped him, perhaps more than he let on.

Although he was still the same sweet, adorable guy you considered one of your closest friends. But you weren't sure your current observation of him fitted the typical definition of friendship… because there was nothing remotely friendly about the thoughts running in your head right now.

Not only was it not friendly, but it wasn't exactly innocent. Because look at him. Look at the way he was gripping the gun, his arms defined beneath his rolled-up sleeves. Look at the way his protective glasses covered his face, the black-rimmed frames accentuating his handsome features. And even though you had seen him wear the uniform vest countless times, somehow it was undeniably distracting the way it hugged his chest.

Yep—there was nothing remotely friendly about how you wanted to climb up the man.

A sudden buzz echoed in the room, snapping you to reality. You glanced up and noticed the officer you were talking to entering the monitor screen and it dawned on you that you had been so distracted by your thoughts that you hadn't realized she had left the control room.

"I'll send the results to the review board this evening," the officer's voice resonated from the screen.

"Did I do okay?" His voice came through.

"Like the second coming of Wyatt Earp," she replied, echoing her earlier assessment. Her gaze shifted to the printed cardboard image of a man, supposedly representing the Unsub, which was shredded right around the face. "Or... Al Capone, maybe."

You observed Spencer's slight nod as she turned and walked out of the screen. Quickly, you exited the control room and met her in the hallway.

"Agent Y/L/N," she called out as she spotted you. "You can have the room in five minutes—"

"I need to reschedule."

Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Reschedule?"

"Uh... yes, something urgent came up," you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

She regarded you for a moment before nodding. "Alright, just let me know when you want to reschedule."

"I will, thank you," you said quickly. Sensing her lingering gaze, you added, "Oh, I'm just waiting for Reid. I need his help on... something."

A faint smile played on her lips, though she didn't press further. "Of course, I'll leave you to it then."

With a nod, she turned and walked away just as the door at the end of the hallway opened, revealing Spencer emerging from the room. His eyes met yours in confusion, and you could sense his curiosity as he approached you.

"Hey," he greeted. "What are you doing here?"

You cocked your head to the side.

What were you doing here?

You took a moment to gather your thoughts before offering a shrug. "Just passing by, I guess."

His brow furrowed slightly as if he sensed there was more to your answer than you were letting on. "Alright," he said, though his curiosity lingered in his gaze.

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling the need to change the subject. "So, how did the evaluation go?"

"So you've heard.”

"Yeah," you confirmed, starting to walk down the hallway as he stepped in pace beside you. "I can't wait for you to be back on the team. Officially, that is."

"If they let me back on the team."

"Of course they will," you reassured him, your hand finding its place on his shoulder, offering support. "You're more than qualified."

He sighed, and you tried not to notice the subtle movement of his vest across his chest, or how it shifted under your touch. "You think so?"

"I know so," you affirmed, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Trust me, they'll definitely bring you back."

He stopped his pace, and so did you, before his eyes flickered towards your hand on his shoulder. He must've sensed something different, considering you weren't exactly the type of person who liked physical contact. Neither of you were, actually. While Spencer was known for his aversion to germs, you simply preferred maintaining a certain level of personal space.

"Seriously," he wondered, his tone laced with curiosity. "What are you doing down here?"

You cleared your throat. "I told you, I was just passing by."

"Really? Is that why you're talking to me instead of going through your usual training?" he pressed on. "It's Tuesday. I'm well aware of your schedule."

Damn him and his eidetic memory. You shifted away from his gaze. "Can't a girl just choose to have a chat with a friend?"

"You chose me over your scheduled routine?” his lips curved into a subtle smile. “Am I that much of a distraction?”

Yes, that damn vest is distracting me.

"Distraction might be a bit strong,” you replied, the lie sounding feeble even to your own ears.

"So you’re admitting I’m slightly distracting?"

"I never said that.”

Spencer leaned in and you felt the heat of his proximity radiating from his body. "But you didn't deny it either.”

You felt a faint blush creep onto your cheeks as you realized the shift in his tone. Dare you say he was... flirting with you? Or was it just your imagination running wild? From the corner of your eye, you caught the subtle way he licked his lips, and without meaning to, your own gaze was drawn to the movement.

It was a habit of his, one you'd observed countless times before whether it was out of concentration or a mere reflex. But seeing it up close now, the way his tongue traced the curve of his bottom lip, was driving you insane.

You swallowed hard. This was not friendly behavior. A friend wouldn't be imagining what it would feel like to have his tongue on your lips instead.

"Y/N?"

Your face felt hot as you met his gaze. "I..."

Before you could respond, the sound of laughter and chatter from down the hallway reached your ears. You heard Penelope's unmistakable giggle with JJ's animated voice, and suddenly your instinct took over. Without a second thought, you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s arm, pulling him into an empty office nearby.

The door shut with a soft thud, and you frowned, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn't want to be caught in a state of flustered panic like some nervous school girl talking to her crush, but as Spencer stood behind you, you realized you were overreacting. The more you dwelled on it, the more absurd it seemed to hide away when there was no reason to.

With a sigh, you turned to face him. "Sorry about that, I didn't mean to..."

But as your gaze met him, your words faltered because he was standing closer than you expected. Close enough that the color of his eyes seemed to intensify under the soft light filtering through the window—a rich brown, like warm chocolate, with specks of gold that danced in the sunlight.

Your eyes involuntarily traced downwards, from the sharp lines of his nose to the curve of his lips, lingering on the stubble lining his jawline. Your mind wandered, and now you couldn't help but wonder how it would feel having it against your skin. Or how it would feel pressed against your thigh.

Your face grew hotter at the thought.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" he asked, taking a step forward. You squeaked in surprise, an actual high-pitched sound leaving your lips, as you felt the hard surface of his vest pressing against your chest.

"It's just..." You hesitated, feeling the heat rising to your cheeks. "You're standing really close..."

He glanced down at you, his eyes resting on your lips. "Do you want me to move?"

"I... uh..."

His eyes flickered back up to meet yours. "I'll take that as a no."

Before you could process his words, his hand reached up, fingers gently gripping your waist. You felt a rush of heat spread through you at his touch, the sensation seeping through your shirt and you found yourself leaning into him, your breath catching in your throat as his face hovered closely above yours.

It was happening. Your heart pounded in your chest as his lips drew closer. You couldn’t believe it, he was going to kiss you—Spencer-fucking-Reid was going to kiss you.

But just as his lips hovered dangerously close against yours, he suddenly stopped.

"Just to make this clear," he began, running a thumb along your side. "I respect you, both as a friend and a colleague. I don't want to force you into anything you're not comfortable with, so if you think this is pushing any boundaries then—"

"Spencer," you cut in. "Just kiss me already."

With a hint of relief and a small smile playing on his lips, he finally closed the gap between you.

You never imagined his lips could be so soft. He had the softest lips that moved against your own with a hint of coffee and something undeniably sweet. Those soft, soft lips parted away from yours for a moment before he leaned back in, more desperate, more needy. And when he swiped your bottom lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, you couldn't help but welcome him with a soft moan of pleasure.

He devoured you then, his tongue pushing eagerly into your mouth, his lips enveloping you with a hunger that left you breathless as he pressed himself against you. Before you could fully grasp what was happening, you were walking backward until your back collided with the solid surface of the desk.

With strength you didn’t know he possessed, he effortlessly lifted you and perched you on top of it, prompting a surprised squeal to escape your lips. He laughed in response but you were too caught up in the moment to worry about whether he found you amusing.

Your hands eagerly roamed over his chest, fingers curling around the strap of his vest as you pulled him closer. He slipped between your parted legs with ease and when he pressed his evident bulge against your core, you both gasped in pleasure.

"We should... we should probably stop, right?" he murmured, his voice muffled against your lips. Despite his words, his actions betrayed his self-control as he began to roll his hips against you.

“We're at work, someone might—” He groaned. “Someone might… hear us..."

He was right, but you found yourself unable to care about anything else but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your heat.

"We could stop, or..." you found yourself saying without thinking. Your hands moved with a mind of their own, finding their way between you as you started to unbutton your shirt, the fabric slipping away to reveal more of your skin.

"Or..." He prompted, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip yet again, his breath coming out in shallow, ragged bursts.

"Or..." you repeated, pushing the front of your shirt open. "We could be quiet."

"We could be quiet," he agreed all too quickly. "We could definitely be quiet."

You let out an amused laugh. "We’re going to get in trouble if anyone finds us."

“Then you shouldn’t make a sound.”

“Me? What about—oh.”

His lips were already trailing down your body, leaving soft kisses as they lingered on your neck, across your collarbone, and then he moved lower, sucking lightly on the swell of your breasts. A whimper of his name escaped your lips, your fingers entwining in his hair.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes drinking at the sight of your breast pushed up against your bra, a glistening sheen of his saliva coating your skin.

“You are stunning,” he murmured, before leaning back in to place a tender kiss on the spot where your collarbone met your shoulder. “How far do you want to take this?”

You blinked, trying to ground yourself into the moment between the lust fogging your brain. “What do you mean?”

“This,” he muttered as he rutted his hips against yours, drawing a needy moan from you. “How far are you willing to go?”

“If you’re asking whether I want to have sex with you, the answer is a hundred percent yes.”

You could practically feel his smile on your skin as he buried himself in the crook of your neck.

“That’s good to know,” he whispered, causing you to arch your back as your chest pressed against the hard material of his vest. “But I don’t think we can do much considering we’re supposed to be working. Well, you at least.”

You grasped his shoulders, pushing him away to meet his gaze. “I thought we agreed to keep quiet.”

“We can keep quiet,” he assured you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “But I can’t rush my time with you. Besides, you deserve a much better setting than an unoccupied office full of dust.”

“Sounds like a you problem.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers trailing lightly along your jawline. “Maybe, but it’s more about time, really. I just want to take—” His lips brushed against your cheek. “My time—” A peck on your lips. “With you.”

You melted right there and then. You could’ve sworn you were nothing but a puddle mess. If he wasn’t holding you for support you were sure you could fall right back to the floor.

“Alright then,” you finally said, reaching for the buttons of your shirt with trembling hands only to be stopped as his fingers curled around your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

You shot him a puzzled look. “I thought you didn’t want to have sex right now.”

“I didn’t say anything about stopping,” he replied, releasing your hand before his palms slid up your thighs. “There are plenty of other things we can do.”

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks. “Like what?”

“Well, I guess we'll just have to get creative.”

Your breath hitched when his fingers hovered over the button on your pants. You watched with a mix of excitement and disbelief as he started to undo them, your mind turning into a mushy mess. It was as if every neuron in your brain had decided to stop working.

“Lift your hips for me.”

You met his gaze, trying to summon up your composure but you couldn’t help the nervous twitch of your lips. He smiled at you.

“Come on, pretty girl, we don’t have all day.”

Not only were you melting, but you were practically liquid by now. Your body moved on its own accord—your hands gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, synchronizing perfectly with his gentle movements to slide the material over your hips and down your legs.

He placed your pants on the empty space beside you while his eyes never left your body. His gaze lingered on the rise and fall of your chest, and he leaned in, his fingers trailing over your skin before settling on the hem of your panties. His thumb slid to the front, brushing along the delicate material. Your hips bucked as he continued to run his thumb up and down as if he were trying to map out your slick folds over the fabric.

“Look at you dripping,” he mused, his eyes fixated on the way his thumb slid over to your clit. “Are you always this wet?”

Your cheeks heated at the question. He wasn’t even trying to make it come off as dirty talk; he asked it like a normal question, as if he were simply wondering about what you ate for breakfast. But the question alone had your face burning because you did not expect it to come from him.

“I… I guess so.”

“You guess so?” he asked, his tone amused. He hooked his fingers into the material of your panties before pushing it to the side.

“I-I don’t know.” You let out a breathless moan when his fingers grazed your slit. “Whenever I’m turned on, I don’t... I don’t exactly touch myself just to check how wet I am.”

Spencer chuckled softly, angling his hand between your thighs before gently pushing his middle finger into your entrance. You gasped at the sudden stretch, brows furrowing as he pressed further, and your hand instinctively gripped onto his arm.

“Do you often touch yourself?”

Your head fell back as he started to move.

“M-Maybe,” you managed to stutter out.

"What do you think of when you do?" he asked slowly, his own breath starting to grow shallow as he watched your face contort in pleasure. He observed the way your mouth fell open, your tongue slightly slipping out in the corner, and the way your eyes shut closed. He was fascinated by the effect he had on you, on how just a simple touch had you squirming.

“A… a lot of things,” you managed to reply.

“Have you ever thought of me?”

Whoa.

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked, momentarily stunned.

This was dangerous territory, but then again, nothing seemed quite as risky as being fingered by your coworker on a Tuesday afternoon. So what harm could it be if you admitted that yes, in fact, he had crossed your mind when you touched yourself wishing it was his fingers instead?

A lot of harm, actually. One, it seemed like an inappropriate confession given your friendship. Friends don't usually imagine each other in sexual scenarios. And two, you could die of embarrassment.

"No," you replied, hoping your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

He hummed skeptically. “I thought we were past the point of lying between profilers.” With a pause, he added another finger inside you, causing you to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. “Is this how you imagined it in your fantasies?”

What was the point of lying now? You swallowed hard, trying to think of a witty response to distract from the intense pleasure coursing through your body.

“Uh… This is slightly better.”

“Slightly? I’m hurt.” He pressed his thumb onto your clit. “What else did you think of then?”

Your cheeks flushed even more. “You… well, um, you also used your tongue.”

The airy laugh he let out sent a shiver down your spine. “Really? And how did that fantasy play out?"

Your heart raced as you tried to find the right words. "Let's just say it involved a lot more tongue action and a lot less talking."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your ear. “Then let’s reenact it.” He gently pulled his fingers out of you. “Lay on your back.”

With a shaky breath, you complied, sprawling out on the desk, a mix of nerves and excitement coursing through you. When he reached for the waistband of your panties, you couldn't help but crack a joke. "If I knew this was the direction this day was heading, I would've worn my fanciest underwear."

Spencer shook his head. “Trust me, you don't need fancy underwear to drive me crazy."

He then deftly removed your panties, his movements confident yet tender, like he was unwrapping a precious gift. When the fabric pooled at your ankle, he got down on his knees and parted your legs wider, positioning himself between them.

You watched, anticipation building, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. Then, with a teasing glance, he pressed his lips to your skin, planting soft kisses along the trail of your inner thigh, inching closer to your core.

You shivered at the sensation and your heart raced with every kiss. His hands roamed over your thighs, tracing delicate patterns while his mouth brushed closer to where you craved him the most. You bit down your bottom lip, unable to contain the moan that escaped as his tongue flicked out, grazing your sensitive flesh.

This was definitely better than your fantasies, the ones you'd harbored in secret, too taboo to admit even to yourself. But here you were, living out those desires in the most deliciously real way possible.

You gasped as his tongue lavished your slit, tasting every inch, mixing your arousal that was beginning to drip from your core with his saliva. Your back arched off the desk, thighs trembling and when they threatened to close, he made sure two heavy palms kept them open long enough for his tongue to drag over your clit.

You couldn’t believe this was happening. Somehow it felt like a dream, but everything was real. His face was right between your thighs; his mouth pressed against your cunt, his tongue lapping through your wet folds. And it wasn’t as simple as tasting you, he was eating you, devouring you, swallowing every drop of your arousal as if he couldn’t get enough of your taste.

You started to lose control of your mind, your body, your actions. Your hips bucked to meet his tongue, your jaw slackening as stifled moans spilled from your lips. And that was when you felt it—a faint vibration against your thigh. At first, you thought it was just the sensation of his touch, but then the loud, unmistakable loud ringtone of your phone shattered the moment.

"Shit!" You squealed, scrambling to grab your phone from your discarded pants. The last thing you needed was for someone to discover you in this compromising position.

"It's Emily—“ You pushed his head away, trying to hide your flushed face as he looked at you with surprise. His lips were glistened with your arousal and his hair seemed messier. God, he looked so pretty.

"Don't answer it."

"It might be important." With a pointed look, you silently urged him to keep quiet as you brought the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. “H-Hey... what's up?"

Emily's voice came through the line, slightly muffled by the sounds of commotion in the background. “Hey, I need you to review the report you submitted yesterday, you left a few details about the Unsub.”

Spencer's lips brushed against your inner thigh, sending a shiver down your spine, and you had to bite back a moan. You shot him a warning glare, mouthing ‘stop’ before turning your attention back to the call.

“Y/N? Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “So… um, which report?”

"The case in Florida," your boss explained. "You mentioned that the Unsub was targeting women between the ages of 25 and 35…”

You were trying to listen, you really were, but it was hard when you felt his fingers ease into your cunt, your juices dripping out, coating his flesh as he curled them inside. You almost let out a whine as his thumb pressed to your clit, caressing in circular motions.

“…he's also been stalking younger women."

Your eyes screwed shut as he sped up his pace. His touch was driving you crazy, and you could barely register the conversation over the sounds of your own arousal echoing in the room.

“Y/N.”

You snapped your eyes open, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you tried to concentrate on the call. "Uh, yeah, go on," you managed to stammer, hoping she didn't notice your wavering tone.

“Are you okay? You sound... off," Emily's voice cut through the haze of pleasure. You shot Spencer another pleading look, but he simply smiled at you with a hand still between your thighs and the other slipping underneath your bra.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, fighting against the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. "Uh, yeah, I… I-I’m doing my training.”

You mentally cursed yourself for the terrible excuse. Emily didn't seem entirely convinced. "Training?"

"Yeah, you know, the uh... firearm training? I-It’s Tuesday.”

There was a pause on the other end before she spoke again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound like you're in pain."

You bit your lip, trying to stifle a moan as his fingers curled inside of you. "No, no, I'm fine. Just... a little out of breath from all the… shooting."

Spencer let out an incredulous scoff, and you shot him a pointed glare.

“Are you with someone?”

You hesitated, racking your brain for a believable excuse, but all you could muster was a feeble, "Uh, nope.”

There was a pause on the other end, and the tension in the air seemed to thicken as your body flushed with heat. Meanwhile, Spencer seemed intent on torturing you, never stopping his pace. If anything, it seemed like his movements were increasing. Just when you thought you couldn't feel more exposed, another scoff echoed through your ear, this time from Emily.

“Alright, where are you really?” she pressed, her tone indicating she wasn't buying your flimsy excuse.

“I told you I-I’m doing my training.”

She laughed. “Y/N, we profile people as a job. I can sense your lie even through the phone.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. What was up with these profilers and their knack for sniffing out lies? You were one yourself, but apparently, you were no match for their scrutiny.

“I’m not—“ your words were cut short when he stood up, hovering above you. You looked up at him, smiling at you innocently as his fingers continued to curl deep inside you. You clutched his forearm with your free hand, attempting to steady yourself.

"I'm not lying," you managed to squeak out.

"Mhm," came Emily's voice from the other end. “Just come by my office and grab the report, okay?”

Your breath hitched as his fingertips delved deeper, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. You couldn't tear your eyes away from the sight of his hand moving between your legs, coated in your arousal with each thrust. You could feel your orgasm edging closer. Your hips moved in sync with his motions as the pressure built, the tension coiling tighter in your stomach and—

“Y/N!”

“Y-Yes, I’m… I’m coming.” Spencer's low chuckle filled your ears, and you realized what you'd unintentionally implied. Your eyes widened in embarrassment. “I mean, I-I’ll be there soon, okay, bye!”

You quickly slammed your phone down on the desk, ending the call with a thud. But before you could even take a breath, Spencer's fingers were back to their rapid pace, driving you to the edge of sanity. Your body staggered under his touch, your hips moving in sync with his relentless rhythm, the world outside the room fading away into a blur of pleasure.

"A-Ah—w-wait, fuck—"

You barely managed to utter a protest before his hand covered your mouth, muffling your cries of pleasure. Your back arched, your head thrown back as you tightened your grip on his wrist, your body writhing beneath him as your orgasm consumed you.

It lasted longer than you expected and Spencer seemed determined to push you over the edge as he shifted his attention from your cunt to your sensitive clit. His fingers withdrew momentarily, only to return with a renewed intensity, applying just the right amount of pressure.

Your senses were on overload as you moaned into his hand, the sound muffled but still audible. He worked you, over and over, and you didn't even know your body could take so much. Every stroke, every caress sent sparks of pleasure coursing through you, building up to an intensity that bordered on overwhelming.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as the sensations reached a fever pitch. It was all too much, too intense, and in a moment of desperation, you pushed his hand away. When the last tremors of your orgasm finally faded away, you collapsed back onto the desk, panting heavily, your limbs feeling like jelly.

Spencer removed his hand from your mouth, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he watched you catch your breath. “Are you okay?"

You nodded weakly. “Yeah, just… that was intense.”

“Good intense?”

“Really good intense,” you replied with a sheepish grin, which only made him smile. With shaky hands, you pushed yourself up from the desk, feeling a wave of satisfaction wash over you. As you began to dress yourself, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him—or rather, the evident bulge underneath his pants.

“That… that doesn’t look comfortable,” you remarked.

Spencer waved off your worry with a dismissive chuckle. “Don’t worry about me, I can take care of it myself.”

“Here? At work?” Your eyes widened at the implication. “I didn't know you had it in you.”

He cocked his head to the side. “That’s not what I meant. It’ll eventually go away if I ignore—stop staring at it,” he added with a laugh. “You’re not helping.”

Your gaze lingered a moment too long on his bulge. "I can think of another way to help.”

Spencer's breath caught in his throat, his imagination running wild with possibilities, but he quickly regained his composure. "Go," he said, gently nudging you towards the door once you were properly dressed. "Emily's waiting for you."

Your eyes swept over him and a wave of awkwardness suddenly washed over you. What was the protocol after experiencing the most intense orgasm of your life? Shake his hand? Give him a high-five? You couldn't help but stifle a nervous laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you decided to trust your instincts. With a hint of hesitation, you stepped closer and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He blinked in surprise, but before he could respond, you were already rushing to the door.

He couldn't help but smile as he watched you leave, a tingling sensation lingering on his cheek where your lips had briefly touched. But as he licked his lips absentmindedly, he couldn't shake the taste of your arousal that lingered there.

Groaning softly, he shifted uncomfortably as his mind filled with vivid images of you squirming under him; your mouth agape, eyes half-closed, your pretty legs spread apart. The memory of your moans echoed in his ears and his cock stirred in his pants.

He sighed, realizing he was in for a long day if he didn't do something about it. With a slight grimace—and the embarrassment gnawing at him for what he was about to do—he let his feet carry him to the nearest bathroom.

#behind closed doors #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fluff #Fanfiction #gifwriting

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mssalo · 22 days ago

Text

after hours

Joel Miller has been yours for a month now, and while things between you are steady, Jackson’s demands have kept you too busy for his liking. Missing you fiercely, Joel decides to pick you up after a late night, only for his mood to sour when Paul monopolizes your time. What starts as a simple check-in turns into something much more when Joel finally gets you alone or well... the other way around.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Sub!Joel, Dom!fem!reader, explicit sexual content, oral (m! and f! receiving), throat fucking, Joel nearly getting rimmed (not quite yet, though - we getting there), Joel kissing your feet for a sec, jealousy (hello, Paul), office sex kinda, praise kink, Joel being a desperate, needy mess, - and soft emotional moments because I'm nice

This can be read as a standalone but officially its part two of ma'am.

7k. Enjoy!

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The sun had long since set, casting Jackson in a blanket of cool twilight. Joel sat at the small kitchen table in his house, staring down at the unlit candle sitting in front of him.

He turned it slowly between his rough fingers, the faint scent of something warm and sweet drifting up to him- something that reminded him of you.

He’d found it earlier on patrol, tucked away in an abandoned cabin, and the moment the smell hit him, you’d been all he could think about.

The softness of it, the quiet comfort - it was you to him. He wasn’t sure why he picked it up, not at first.

Gifts weren’t exactly something he knew how to give anymore, and hell, he didn’t even know if it was too early for something like this. A month together wasn’t long, but for Joel, it felt like something impossible.

You had slipped into his life like sunlight, warm and steady, breaking through cracks he didn’t know were there. In just a month, you’d pulled him out of a place he thought he’d never leave, and it scared him sometimes - how much he cared. How much he wanted to hold onto you.

But lately, Jackson had taken up so much of your time. You still saw each other - quiet dinners, soft conversations, and kisses stolen in the fading light of day but that’s all there had been.

Between long shifts, late nights, and endless meetings, you’d been stretched thin, and Joel could see it. He didn’t resent you for it - how could he? You were the heart of this place, keeping everything and everyone steady. It was just…

He missed you.

And tonight, when the clock struck well past 11, and you still hadn’t come home, something in him stirred. Joel wasn’t the type to chase someone down, but tonight, he couldn’t just sit in the quiet house anymore.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed his jacket, stuffing the candle carefully into his pocket. The cold air bit at his skin as he stepped out onto the gravel path, boots crunching softly as he made his way toward the main building where he knew you’d still be.

As he climbed the stairs and spotted the warm light glowing from beneath your office door, he felt some of the tension ease in his chest.

You were safe. Good. But then he heard it—soft voices, yours and another man’s - Paul.

Joel paused just outside, his jaw clenching. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but something about it—about how Paul’s voice carried that too-familiar tone, how your own voice stayed calm and professional - made his teeth grind.

Paul. Joel knew exactly who he was, young, good-looking, dependable. Always where you were, always taking up your time. Joel resented him for it. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he was damn sure Paul wanted you - how could he not? Hell, Joel figured everyone did.

You were strong, beautiful, impossible to ignore.

And Joel? He still didn’t quite know how he’d gotten lucky enough to have you, and it ate at him, hearing Paul’s voice when he wanted to see and talk to you so badly himself.

His brow furrowed, and he stopped just outside the slightly ajar door.

“- appreciate the update, Paul,” you were saying, your voice calm and professional. “We’ll make adjustments to the roster tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” Paul replied, his tone polite but with a hint of familiarity that set Joel’s teeth on edge.

Joel peeked through the crack in the door and felt his chest tighten.

You were leaning partially against your desk, your posture relaxed but commanding, your sleeves pushed up to your elbows as you gestured toward a stack of papers in front of you.

The soft lamplight illuminated your face, highlighting the curve of your jaw, the way your blouse clung just right.

You looked… god, you looked so fucking good.

Too good.

Joel’s jaw worked as he stepped into the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his presence heavy and awkward.

You glanced up at him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “Joel?”

He shifted on his feet, his gaze flicking between you and Paul, unsure of what to say. His fists clenched at his sides, and he suddenly felt out of place, like he was intruding.

Paul turned to look at him as well, his expression polite but curious. “Evening, Joel,” he said with a nod.

Joel gave a tight nod in return, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to think of something to say. But his gaze kept drifting back to you - your relaxed posture, the slight smirk tugging at your lips as you studied him.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you read the situation.

“I think we can wrap up for tonight, Paul,” you said smoothly, your voice taking on a sharper edge. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow.”

Paul blinked, glancing between the two of you before nodding. “Sure. Have a good night.”

You waited until Paul had gathered his things and stepped out of the office before turning your full attention to Joel. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the desk, one brow arched as you studied him.

“Well?” you said, your tone light but teasing. “What’s on your mind, Miller?”

Joel shuffled his feet, his eyes darting to the floor. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “Just… you were workin’ late. Wanted to check on you.”

Your lips curved into a slow smile, and you pushed off the desk, stepping toward him. “And here I thought you were giving Paul the stink eye,” you teased, stopping just in front of him.

Joel’s ears burned, and his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “Wasn’t givin’ him anythin’,” he mumbled, his gaze stubbornly avoiding yours.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, tilting your head as you watched him squirm. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Joel’s voice was quiet, thick with a mix of concern and something deeper. “You shouldn’t work so late,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto yours for just a moment before darting away again. “It ain’t good for you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Baby, I’m alright,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

But Joel’s jaw tightened, and his shoulders remained stiff. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a clear sign he was holding something back.

You stepped closer, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his scruffy cheeks. “Hey,” you murmured, leaning in until your forehead almost touched his. “I mean it. I’m okay. You can breathe, you know.”

He exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into your touch. “Just… can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice rough and low. “You do too much. Somebody’s gotta make sure you take care of yourself.”

Your smile softened, and you pressed a brief, chaste kiss to his forehead. “You’re sweet,” you said, your tone teasing but warm. “But I’ve got this, Joel. I promise.”

With that, you turned back to the desk, leaning slightly as you reached for a stack of papers you’d been organizing before Joel arrived.

Your blouse shifted as you moved, the fabric pulling taut across your back and revealing a hint of the smooth skin at your waist. You pushed up your sleeves absentmindedly, as you flipped through the papers with a focused efficiency that had Joel rooted in place.

Joel tried to focus on your words, on the way you calmly explained whatever you’d been discussing with Paul before he barged in, but his mind betrayed him.

His eyes trailed over the curve of your back, the dip of your waist, the way your pants hugged your hips. His pulse quickened, heat creeping up his neck as he imagined you sitting back on that desk, your legs spread as you guided his head between them.

Fuck.

Joel clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides as he tried to shove the thought away, but it was no use.

The image was too vivid—the taste of you, the sound of your breathy moans, the way you’d hold his hair as he worshipped you. He could practically feel the pressure of your thighs around his head, your voice low and commanding as you told him to keep going, good boy.

“Joel?”

Your voice jolted him from his spiraling thoughts, and his head snapped up. You were looking over your shoulder, one eyebrow raised, your lips tugged into a curious smirk. “You okay over there?”

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Just… thinkin’.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, turning fully to face him now.

You leaned back against the desk, crossing your arms over your chest, and Joel’s eyes—completely against his will—dropped for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. Your smirk deepened, and Joel’s ears burned.

“You sure about that?” you teased, tilting your head. “Because it seems like your thoughts might be wandering.”

“I—” Joel started, but the words caught in his throat.

He looked away, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought to regain control. But the way you leaned against the desk, your confidence radiating in every movement, was doing things to him he couldn’t stop.

You watched him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, your smirk softening into something more thoughtful.

Then, you straightened, uncrossing your arms and stepping closer. “Joel,” you said softly, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart skip. “What’s really on your mind?”

His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, your fingers brushing lightly over his forearm.

He wanted to answer, but the words tangled in his throat, his mind still clouded with the image of you, the way you’d look under him—no, above him.

You tilted your head, studying him like you could see right through him, and your lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I see,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement.

Joel’s mouth opened, then closed again. He shook his head quickly, his ears burning, but you didn’t let him squirm away this time.

You stepped even closer, your fingers trailing up to rest lightly against his chest. “Come on, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing. “You can tell me.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to yours, then away again. “It’s… I just—” He stopped, his hands clenching at his sides as he let out a frustrated sigh. “You make it impossible to think, y’know that?”

Your smile widened, your head tilting as you regarded him.

“Oh?” you said, your tone light but edged with something darker, something that made Joel’s stomach flip. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”

Joel hesitated, his gaze flicking to the desk behind you for just a second before he looked away again, his jaw tightening. But it was enough. Your eyes sparkled with realization, and you leaned in, your voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Thinking about me on that desk, baby?” you murmured, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Thinking about how good it’d feel to put that mouth of yours to work?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, his pupils blown wide. “I—fuck,” he rasped, his voice breaking

Your smirk deepened, and you reached up to brush your fingers through his hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “Go on, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like velvet. “Say it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was caught mid-thought.

“I—fuck,” he rasped, voice cracking under the weight of whatever was bubbling inside him.

You smirked, tilting your head, and let your fingers glide into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“All day, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you—‘bout gettin’ my mouth on you. Feelin’ your thighs against my face, your taste on my tongue. Can’t stop.” His voice dropped into a low growl, his breath uneven.

“Can’t even fuckin’ think straight when you’re standin’ there lookin’ like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Didn’t I take care of you this morning, sweet one?”

His jaw flexed, and he groaned softly, his eyes dropping to your lips, then trailing over your body with an intensity that made your stomach clench.

“It wasn’t enough,” he muttered, voice desperate. “It’s never enough. You ruin me, darlin’. I just… I need you.”

You leaned back against the desk, arms crossed casually over your chest, and his eyes followed the movement, locking onto the subtle shift of your body.

“Take my pants off, Joel,” you said, your voice calm but firm, like it was the simplest request in the world.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his fingers already moving before he could fully process your words.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he stepped closer. His hands were unsteady, reverent, as they found the waistband of your pants, hesitating for just a moment before undoing the button and sliding the zipper down.

The air between you crackled as he knelt in front of you, his hands gently tugging your pants down over your hips.

His lips parted, and you heard the faintest gasp as your panties came into view, a darkened spot already visible where your arousal soaked through.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered, his voice low and wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t even know what you do to me.”

You smirked, leaning forward slightly, one hand brushing through his hair. “I know exactly what I do to you, baby,” you murmured. “That’s why you’re on your knees for me, isn’t it?”

Joel tugged the rest of your pants free, his movements quick and deliberate, pausing only to slide your shoes off and set them aside.

The moment your legs were bare, he hesitated, his eyes darting down to your feet before he leaned in suddenly, pressing his lips to the top of one foot.

The soft, warm press of his mouth sent a shiver through you, and you let out a startled laugh, tilting your head as you looked down at him. “Joel,” you said, your voice low with curiosity and amusement. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his lips traveled over the arch of your foot, slow and reverent, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick and trembling.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. Every part of you—” His tongue flicked out briefly, dragging along the delicate curve of your ankle. “—drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your breath caught as his hands slid up to cradle your calves, his lips brushing against the arch of your other foot.

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft but edged with heat. “Are you a feet-guy now?”

His head snapped up, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes were dark with pure, unfiltered want.

“I’m a you guy,” he rasped, his voice rough and uneven. “I’d worship every inch of you if you let me, ma’am.”

The sincerity and desperation in his voice made heat pool low in your belly, and you smirked, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Every inch, huh?” you teased, your tone sultry. “Guess I should let you, then.”

His lips parted as he stared up at you, his chest heaving like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “Please,” he whispered, the single word dripping with need as his hands gripped your legs tighter. “Let me.”

Joel didn’t hesitate when you gave him a soft nod, your smirk still firmly in place.

His hands slid slowly down your thighs, reverent and careful, like you might vanish if he wasn’t gentle.

Joels lips parted as he lowered his head, brushing a slow, deliberate kiss against your knee before trailing lower, his breath warm and shaky against your skin.

“Go on, baby,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilted your head, watching him with a lazy sort of dominance. “Show me how much you mean it.”

Joel groaned softly, his hands trembling as they gripped your thighs tighter. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, the heat of his lips sending a shiver up your spine.

His nose brushed against your skin as he moved closer, inhaling deeply like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “Smell so good. Always do.”

Your smirk deepened, and you gave his hair a soft tug, guiding him closer to where you wanted him.

“You’ve got a smart mouth when it comes to saying all the right things, Joel,” you teased, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, put it to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel rasped, his voice trembling. He didn’t waste another second, his lips brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.

The first touch made him groan, the sound desperate and guttural as he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging against your clit.

You gasped softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. “That’s it, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm and encouraging. “Yeah, just like that.”

Joel’s tongue flicked out, dragging along the wet patch that had already formed against the thin fabric.

He moaned as the taste of you hit his tongue, and the vibrations of the sound sent a sharp jolt of heat through your core.

His lips latched onto you through your panties, sucking softly as his nose pressed harder against your clit, grinding into you with every movement.

“You’re such a good boy, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk. “Look at you, so desperate to please. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He whimpered, his hands sliding up to grip your hips as he buried his face deeper against you.

“Every day,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Think about it every damn day. Wanna taste you, wanna make you feel so good.”

You smiled, the sound low and indulgent as you gave his hair another tug. “Then take them off, baby,” you whispered, your tone commanding but patient. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel’s hands shook as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, his lips brushing against your hip as he slid them down your legs.

He didn’t even bother to move them completely out of the way, his attention entirely on the sight of you bared before him. His breath hitched, and he licked his lips, his eyes dark and filled with reverence.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice wrecked.

You chuckled softly, leaning back against the desk and letting your thighs fall open a little wider.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leaned in, his lips parting to drag his tongue slowly through your folds.

The first taste always made him moan so loudly you couldn’t help but smile, and his tongue worked with desperate precision, lapping at your entrance before moving up to flick over your clit.

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed, your nails grazing against his scalp. “You’re so eager, baby. So good at this.”

He whimpered against you, his tongue pressing harder against your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking gently.

His nose brushed against you with every movement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he lost himself in you.

“Keep going, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm but firm.

Joel moaned again, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as his tongue worked faster, licking and sucking like a man possessed.

He was all-in, his desperation and devotion pouring into every movement, every sound, every shuddering breath.

Joel pulled back briefly, his face slick with your arousal, his breaths heavy and uneven. His thick fingers slid up your inner thighs, his touch featherlight, reverent, like he was handling something holy.

He reached your folds, his large fingers spreading your pussy lips apart, exposing your swollen, glistening clit to his dark, hungry gaze.

“Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice low and trembling as he stared.

His fingers gently held you open, and for a moment, all he could do was look - memorizing the way you glistened, the way your cunt clenched with anticipation.

His mouth opened slightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he bit down softly on the plush skin of your inner thigh, making you jolt.

“Joel,” you warned, your voice thick with arousal. “Don’t just look.”

Slowly, he leaned in to take your throbbing clit into his mouth again. - But then, under his breath, he grumbled,"Bet that asshole Paul ain't ever seen somethin' this fuckin' pretty."

Your brows furrowed immediately, the heat between you both briefly eclipsed by confusion. "Paul?" you snapped, your grip tightening in his hair, pulling his head back roughly.

Joel winced but didn't dare meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed as his lips glistened from where he'd already tasted you.

"You're jealous?" you demanded, a mix of amusement and annoyance in your tone, though there was something undeniably sultry in the way you said it.

Joel stammered, shaking his head, though his guilty expression betrayed him. "I just- he don't deserve to be 'round you like that."

You blinked, momentarily surprised by his audacity.

Then, something wicked curled in your chest, and your smirk returned as you leaned forward, your fingers threading into his hair to tug him to his feet.

Joel stumbled up, flustered, his face red as you pushed him back against the table with a force that knocked the breath out of him.

"You're jealous of Paul," you said again, quieter now, voice dripping with mock disdain as you stepped closer, your hips brushing against his.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the table for balance as you caged him in, your body pressing against his like he had nowhere to go.

His lips parting to reply, but no sound came out. His eyes darted to yours, wide and needy as you leaned in close, your lips ghosting over his ear.

"Would I touch Paul like this, Joel?" you murmured, your voice low and teasing as your hand slid down to press against the thick bulge straining in his pants.

Joel let out a strangled whimper, his hips jerking forward instinctively at the contact.

"Answer me," you commanded softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make him groan. "Would he be this hard for me?"

"Fuck-no," Joel choked out, his voice wrecked and trembling. His knuckles turned white where he gripped the table, his whole body tense beneath your touch. "Ain't no one else gets this. Just me. Please - always me, ma'am."

"That's what I thought," you whispered, a smug smile curving your lips as you slowly unbuttoned his pants.

Joel's chest rose and fell in sharp, shaky breaths as he watched your every move, his gaze dark and glassy with need.

"You think Paul could ever handle me the way you do?" you continued, teasing the waistband of his boxers now, your fingers brushing the bare skin of his hips. "Think he'd know how to please me like you do, baby?"

Joel shook his head desperately, his voice barely a whisper as he rasped, "No, ma'am.Never."

"Good boy," you purred, leaning back just enough to look him in the eye.

Joel's hips bucked forward slightly, his cock throbbing beneath your touch, but you stilled him with a firm press of your hand.

"You really think l'd let anyone else have me like this?" you murmured, your tone low and commanding. "You think I'd let anyone but you eat my cunt in this office?"

Joel whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he let out a shaky, broken sound that shot straight to your core.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Please— don't stop."

You smirked, leaning down to press your lips to the corner of his jaw, letting your teeth graze his skin. "You want me to prove it to you, hm, baby?"

Joel nodded frantically, his head falling back as his entire body trembled beneath you.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice raw and needy.

"Please... Show me l'm yours. I'll do anything, ma'am. Anything."

And with that, you sank back down to your knees in front of him, dragging his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, leaving him bare and vulnerable as you stared up at him, the wicked gleam in your eyes making Joel's cock throb painfully in anticipation.

"Alright, handsome," you whispered darkly, your lips brushing over the sensitive tip of him as Joel let out a desperate groan, his hips jerking forward.

"Be a good boy, and I'll make you feel like the only man in the world."

Joel's head tipped back, his hands scrambling for purchase on the edge of the table as your mouth closed around him, and the only word he could manage was a broken, worshipful, "Fuck."

You kissed along the thick length of his cock, slow and deliberate, dragging your tongue in a wet line up the underside until you reached the sensitive tip.

Joel’s body tensed, and a deep, broken groan tore from his throat as his hips jerked forward, chasing your touch.

“Ma‘am,” he choked out, his voice rough, his knuckles white where he gripped the desk behind him. His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths, eyes blown wide with need as they met yours.

You smirked wickedly, your lips brushing over his flushed, aching head. “Yeah, baby?” you teased, your voice dripping with dark amusement as you kissed him softly, deliberately avoiding where he wanted you most.

“Looks like you’ve been neglected.” You licked up the shaft again, savoring the way he whimpered, the sound breaking into a low, strangled growl. “But that’s on me, huh? I’ve been so busy…”

Joel’s head tipped back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You’re—fuck, you’re what Jackson needs,” he stammered, his voice wrecked and almost pleading. “S’okay. I get it. You—you’re keepin’ us safe.”

His hands shook as he forced himself to look back at you, his eyes glassy with desperation.

“Oh, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk as you nipped lightly at the sensitive skin, making him jolt with a sharp inhale.

“Jackson might need me—but I got someone else at home who needs me now too, hm?” You shot him a pointed look, your tongue flicking out to swirl around the tip as Joel let out a wrecked noise that made you clench around nothing.

His breath stuttered, his entire body trembling beneath your touch. “Me,” he rasped, his voice cracking into a whimper, the word soft and desperate as it fell from his lips.

You hummed, lips curling as you dragged your tongue along the sensitive ridge beneath his head before wrapping your mouth around him completely, taking him slow and deep until the tip nudged the back of your throat.

Joel let out a loud, guttural groan, his hips jerking involuntarily as he felt the wet heat of your mouth envelop him completely.

You pulled back just enough to let him slip free, a trail of spit and pre-cum stretching between your lips and his swollen, aching cock.

It twitched violently in the cool air, slick and flushed dark at the tip, thick veins standing out along his length as it oozed a steady bead of milky pre-cum.

Your eyes trailed over it with a wicked glint, drinking in the sight of him—so messy, so utterly ruined—and your lips curled into a slow, smug smile as you lazily pumped him with your slick hand.

The noise it made was filthy, each movement a slow, deliberate glide of your palm over his slicked skin. “Look at you, Joel. You’re already such a mess for me.”

You dragged your thumb over his leaking slit, smearing the pre-cum down the length of him, and his hips bucked sharply, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.

“Christ,” he choked, his head falling back, his jaw slack as his chest heaved. “Darlin’, please - please, I- ”

“Please what?” you teased, your tone light and mocking as you leaned back in, your lips brushing over the tip again, barely there.

Joel’s whole body jolted, and he whimpered—so loudly—as your tongue darted out to swirl around him, gathering the salty slick that had gathered there.

“Wanna fuck my throat, baby?” you murmured darkly, your gaze locked on his as your lips curled into a slow smile.

“Is that what you’re so desperate for? Hm? That big cock of yours buried all the way in, feelin’ me tight around you?”

Joel let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a plea, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice raw and wrecked. “God, yes, darlin’. I—fuck—please.”

“Then go ahead,” you purred, your hand stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. “Go on, Joel. Take it.”

He froze for half a second, as if the permission short-circuited his brain, before he stepped closer, his hands finally leaving the desk to cradle your jaw.

You let your mouth fall open, your tongue teasing his tip as he slid in, slow and careful, testing the waters. Your eyes stayed locked on his, and you hummed approvingly, encouraging him to move deeper.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you murmured between breaths, your voice thick with sin. “I can take it.”

Joel groaned, deep and guttural, as he pushed further, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You swallowed around him, and the sound that ripped from his chest was wrecked, his hips twitching as he fought not to lose control.

Slowly, he rocked forward, fucking into your mouth with careful, shallow thrusts, each movement slick and filthy with spit and pre-cum. You could feel him throbbing, could hear the desperate, broken noises spilling from him every time he hit just right.

“Jesus,” Joel gritted out, his voice low and wrecked as his fingers threaded into your hair, guiding you gently. “Feels so fuckin’ good, ma“am. So fuckin’ perfect—goddamn.”

You let him thrust just a little deeper, taking him until your nose pressed against the dark curls at the base of his cock.

Your throat flexed around him, swallowing him whole, and the growl that tore from his chest was loud and shattered, his control slipping further.

He pulled back, your spit trailing in thick, messy strings along his length, and you let out a satisfied hum as you pulled away completely, your lips wet and slick with him.

But you weren’t done.

Your hands slid up his thighs as you leaned lower, pressing your lips to his balls. Joel’s hips jolted sharply, his legs trembling beneath him as you kissed him softly, your tongue flicking out to trace the sensitive skin.

You smirked against him, releasing him with a wet pop before flattening your tongue and dragging it slowly, teasingly, down the sensitive skin just beneath his balls.

Joel’s whole body jerked, his knees threatening to give out as he let out a choked, desperate shout, his fingers tightening painfully in your hair.

“Yes,” he gasped, the word breaking as it tumbled out of him. “Yes, fuck, yes!” His voice cracked, hoarse and wrecked, as you continued your slow, deliberate path, your tongue barely grazing where he was most sensitive.

The filthy noises spilling from him grew louder, more frantic, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you pushed him further and further over the edge.

“Like that, baby?” you purred, pulling back just enough to whisper against the trembling skin. “Want me to lick even lower, huh? Is that what you want?”

Joel let out something between a sob and a growl, his head snapping back as his mouth fell open, panting for air like a man starved.

His body shook violently, and before he could even get the words out, his release hit - a sharp, shuddering jolt that tore through him like lightning.

“Fuck- oh, ma‘am- fuck!” Joel roared, his hips surging forward as his cock throbbed and pulsed, spurting hot, thick ropes of cum across your face and blouse, the first one hitting so hard you moaned softly at the sheer force of it.

His voice echoed off the walls, a deep, primal sound that he didn’t try to be quiet - didn’t care who heard.

“Shit- oh, darlin’ - fuck, I- ” Joel was lost to it, wrecked and trembling, his hands shaking in your hair as his cock twitched again, more of his release spilling onto your tongue and chin.

You caught as much of it as you could, sucking softly at the head of him as he moaned, loud and shattered, the tension in his body finally breaking.

“Such a good boy for me, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice thick with satisfaction as you swirled your tongue lazily over his still-pulsing tip, gathering the last drops of him.

His cock was slick and messy now, glistening with cum and your spit, and the sight of him—ruined and trembling, his thighs shaking so hard he could barely stand—made you smirk with pure satisfaction.

Joel’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stared down at you, his face flushed and wrecked, his chest heaving like he’d run for miles.

“Jesus,” he rasped, his voice barely there, as if the words were dragged out of him.

You licked at your lips, smearing a streak of his release off your cheek with your thumb before sliding it into your mouth, sucking softly as you held his gaze.

Joel’s body jerked at the sight, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull you up or drop to his knees.

“Made such a mess, baby,” you teased softly, reaching up to stroke his still-twitching cock, your hand gliding easily over the slick mess coating him.

Joel groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips gave an involuntary jerk at your touch.

“Didn’t even care who heard you, huh?”

Joel let out a low, wrecked sound, his face buried in his arm as he leaned heavily against the desk for support. “Don’t fuckin’ care,” he muttered, his voice muffled and rough. “Let ‘em hear. Let ‘em all know I’m yours.”

You smirked, rising slowly to your feet, your body grazing his as you straightened. Joel’s hands found your waist immediately, his grip still shaky, like he needed to hold on to you or risk collapsing completely.

You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, low and sweet, “That’s right, baby. You’re mine.”

Joel groaned softly, his head tilting back to meet your gaze, those dark eyes still heavy-lidded, glassy with the remnants of his release.

There was something else there too - something softer, flickering in the depths as he stared at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Always yours,” he rasped, his voice still wrecked but thick with something deeper. “No one else, darlin’. Just you.”

Your smirk softened, your fingers sliding up to trace along the stubble of his jaw before you cupped his face gently in your hands. “Yeah?” you murmured.

Joel’s breath hitched as you tilted your head and kissed him—softly, slowly—your lips molding to his in a kiss that stripped away the desperation and left nothing but warmth.

He sighed into it, his arms wrapping fully around you now, pulling you in close until you were flush against him.

You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “I’m yours too. Always.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his hands tightening on your waist as his thumb traced slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Okay, baby? No need to give Paul the stinky eye,” you teased softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Joel’s brows knit together, his face shifting into something defensive but playful as he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“I wasn’t givin’ him the stinky eye,” he grumbled, though the way his jaw twitched betrayed him.

You snorted, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up. “Joel,” you teased, your grin spreading wide.

Joel’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through, and he huffed softly, shaking his head. “You’re seein’ things, darlin’,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind his words.

You laughed harder, leaning your forehead against his as his low, rough chuckle finally broke free, rumbling deep in his chest.

The sound sent warmth flooding through you, and before you could say another word, his lips found yours again.

This kiss was softer now—easy, lingering, the kind of kiss that said I’m here, and you’re mine.

Joel’s hands slid up your sides, cradling you close as you melted into him, the laughter fading into something softer, something sweeter.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, you brushed your nose against his. “You were totally giving him the stinky eye,” you murmured, grinning.

Joel chuckled again, shaking his head as he pressed another kiss to your lips—soft, deliberate, and warm. “Maybe,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and fond. “Maybe I was.”

Smiling, you brushed your fingers along his jaw, your touch gentle, grounding. “You’re the sexiest and most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on,” you murmured softly, the sincerity in your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Joel froze for just a moment, his brow furrowing slightly like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. Then, his face softened, his cheeks coloring just a little as his lips curved into a lopsided smile.

“You really think that?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost uncertain, as though he didn’t quite believe it.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “No, Joel. I know that. Don’t go gettin’ all humble on me now.”

Your fingers tangled gently in his hair, your voice a whisper. “No one else could hold a candle to you, Joel Miller. You’ve got no reason to be jealous of anyone.”

He huffed out a small laugh, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer, like he needed to feel you against him to believe it.

After a minute - you stepped back. “C’mon, handsome,” you teased, your voice soft but playful, “let’s get home, yeah?” You winked at him, your grin infectious.

Joel huffed a soft laugh, his hands still resting on your hips. “Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, proud smile. “I got somethin’ for you at home. A little somethin’ I found today.”

Your eyes lit up, curiosity sparking as you tugged his hand gently. “Ooh, a present? You’re spoilin’ me, Miller,” you teased, grinning wide.

Joel chuckled, ears red, shaking his head as he let you pull him along.

· · ──𖥸

“A candle?” you breathed, your eyes widening as you turned it over in your hands, the label simple but faintly worn.

The smell of something warm and sweet reached your nose, and you blinked up at Joel, completely caught off guard.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the floor as a faint pink crept across his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, a little awkwardly, his voice low. “Found it while we were out on patrol. Smell reminded me of you… I don’t know, somethin’ soft and warm—real nice. Figured maybe you’d… like it.”

He shifted slightly, his hands fidgeting against his jeans as he added quickly, “I mean, it’s nothin’ fancy. If it’s too much or too soon—”

“Joel,” you interrupted softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you brought the candle closer, inhaling the faint, soothing scent.

Something in your chest tightened, an unexpected warmth spreading through you that made your throat feel thick. It had been so long—years, really—since anyone had given you something just because they thought of you.

Joel paused mid-ramble, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, worry lingering in his expression.

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward and kissed him—soft, sweet, and lingering.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky, tears threatening to spill as you smiled up at him. “Thank you so much, Joel. You don’t… you don’t know what this means to me.”

Joel’s brows softened, his hands reaching out to cup your face gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, “you’re welcome, darlin’. I just… I wanted you to have somethin’ nice. Somethin’ that’s yours.”

You smiled, blinking through the tears as you leaned into his touch.

“No one’s given me a gift since I was seventeen,” you admitted softly, a hint of laughter in your voice as you tried to play it off, but Joel’s expression only grew more tender.

“Well, I’m makin’ up for lost time, then,” he said, his voice steady, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You let out a soft laugh, pressing your forehead against his, your hand still clutching the candle like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re somethin’ else, Joel Miller,” you whispered, your voice fond and thick with emotion.

Joel chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Yeah, well… you’re worth it.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

1K notes · View notes

shrenvents · 9 months ago

Text

Professor Howlett

Warnings: Minors dni, smut, no protection, fingering, vaginal, doggy, pet names, squirting, age gap (legal!)

Pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Student (Mutant) reader

Summary: Your history professor always seemed uninterested in you, that was until you missed his class.

Word count: 2.7k

…

Throughout high school I’ve always kind of stood out. To be honest, I only have myself to blame. Bright colours and statement pieces are just so much more appealing, than wearing something ‘plain.’ Unfortunately, I did more than just “stand out” that day, just three weeks away from senior graduation. That fateful day, I was so close to the finish line, before my stupid ex-boyfriend discovered my secret, and outed it to the entire student body.

That I’m a mutant…

That was what led me across the coast, for most of the past year, running from god knows what. I heard the stories of mutants being hunted and gone missing, and I didn’t intend to stick around long enough, that I wouldn’t at least make it to my 20th birthday.

However, my days of swindling folks of cash and food came to a halt, when I spotted a man with red-tinted glasses watching me. His invested gaze observed my every movement, so I grabbed all my shit, and the last bit of petty change I managed to get, and sprinted into a crowd.

Just as I thought I was in the clear, my face collided with a colossal, firm chest. I pressed the heels of my palms into it, and felt the cotton of his white shirt, and the rough, yet smooth texture of his worn-in, leather jacket.

Logan Howlett, or should I say, Mr. Howlett, my history Professor... After he and Scott captured me, they dragged me by the ankles to their school for the “gifted.” I cringed when they said where we were headed, but once I arrived and saw all the kids, like me, going about their lives, free, I knew everything would be more than okay.

And one thing I knew for sure, is that I wouldn’t mind attending Mr. Howlett’s class. Did I know shit about history, yes. But I’ve always had a thing for the older guy, and from what I’ve heard, he’s more than enough in that department.

...

This morning, racing out of my room, I swore profusely at my tardiness... Just my luck. The one day that week I get to see and listen to Logan talk for an hour straight, my alarm malfunctions.

Multitasking between attempting to put on my hot-pink heels, wrapping my sparkly bag over my shoulder, and shutting my door, I missed the approaching figure behind me.

“It’s past 11 am, where do you think you’re headed?” I swivel on my toes, spinning to face Storm. “Class?”

“The only class you have left today kid, is at 2. You’ve managed to miss the rest already,” she scolds flatly.

“Noooo,” I fake astonishment and defeat, as I slowly back away from Storm's scrutinizing stare. She calls my name after I’ve taken at least two large steps backward. “Logan wants to see you,” she states, exasperated.

“Oh?” I straighten out, stopping my next step short. “Ok!” I exclaim, a little too perky. She huffs a faint smirk and walks off, and I take flight, zooming to Logan’s class, where he’s most likely dozed off.

Lo and behold, after knocking once and receiving no response, I open the door to see him snoring. With his legs fully extended, and feet resting on his desk, I bask in his lengthy physic. I giggle and then go towards him.

Mr. Howlett?” I say, clearing my throat loudly, he grunts in his sleep and I smile. “Mr. Howlett?” I say even sweeter. A second later, I swear he mumbles my name and my heart stutters, but he’s still sleeping. I move in closer to his ear. “Logan,” I announce rigidly, and my change in tone makes him flinch, legs falling off the table, eyes popping open.

He rasps my name, voice echoing through the classroom. I refused to move away from my position, wanting to seem unaffected by him, but I was anything but. With his lazy eyes roaming over my skin, my heart races wildly. He clears his throat, and rolls his eyes away after taking in my attire, as he usually does —gives me a once-over, and rolls his eyes back to his focus on his lecture.

“You missed class, that isn’t like you,” he notes, almost to himself.

“Yes and I’m sorry-“

“I hope it wasn’t because you were too busy picking that outfit.” Logan scoffs and my eyes widen. He’s always made snarky comments, and this wasn’t anything new, but every time he does, I can’t help the boiling feeling in my lungs, that makes me rise to defend myself. “No, maybe I just felt like sleeping in?” I declare. A short-lived chuckle escapes him. “And you’re just gonna admit to that?” He smirks as he faces me. “I don’t like kids skipping my class.”

“First off, I’m an adult, second, you don’t care when kids skip your class,” I retort, with a growing smile, beaming across my face. Though, his complimentary smile, drops as mine comes to full form. He’s never seemed fond of my smile, or maybe it’s just me.

“You don’t skip my class.” He states once again, and my head quirks in confusion. “Um, I’m sorry?” I compromise, “It won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” He remarks dangerously. My brows furrow.

“Okay, I don’t get why it matters so much to you Mr. Howlett.” I place my hands on my hips, gazing down at him in his chair like I'm reprimanding a child. Which he is not akin to.

He lifts from his chair, standing up. I gasp as he towers over me. “Watch your tone, or I’ll fail ya,” he counters, fighting a smirk, staying stoic. “What?” I yelp and his smirk breaks through. My jaw goes slack. “Mr. Howlett, that’s not funny!”

“What’s not funny, is you pretending like calling me 'Mr. Howlett,' doesn’t turn you on.”

I freeze in disbelief. Was this one of my daydreams? Am I really awake right now?

“You heard me, you damn highlighter,” he asserts. “Call me Logan for fucks sake, if you’re a damn adult.” His scratchy voice loses its humour, and I stay frozen to the spot. “Get outta here, would ya,” Logan orders as he leisurely retakes his seat, getting comfortable for his next nap.

Unable to drag myself away, my eyes refocus on the subject of my desires. “Why do I have such a thing for assholes.”

Before Logan can respond angrily, I sit on his lap, dropping my purse to the floor, and straddling his hips. I cup his perplexed face and crash our mouths together, moulding them into one. He grunts in surprise as if he didn’t expect me to retaliate, as if he didn’t expect that I would want him this way.

He half-heartedly pulls away between kisses, whispering my name in small protests, but he gets muffled by my lips and grinds on his lap. Quickly, his objections turn into fierce groans. He takes my hips into his hands, tightly gripping into my flesh as he pushes me back, onto his desk. I whimper as his crotch stays glued to my core, even as we move. One hand then moves from my hip to my neck, holding it, then slowly sliding to my jaw, grasping it in a hungry, pressing kiss. His tongue laps my mouth, completely dominating me, and I struggle to breathe.

Just as I’m about to pull away to comment on how desperate he seems, his other hand flips me over with ease. My stomach is now on top of his desk, his crotch, like iron against my ass, and his hands trace down from my shoulder blades, to my bum. With my head hung over the desk, I pant, practically drooling.

“You’re asking for detention pinky,” he mutters, and I respond by pushing back into his hard cock. “I'm a sucker for extra attention teach,” I mention, as sensually as I could muster. He chuckles lowly, and I shudder. The pressure of his dick doesn’t change, and his hands continue their unhurried venture of me. “You like attention sweets?” Logan questions softly. His tone makes me shiver and whimper, yet again. “I like yours.”

“Just mine?” He questions darkly, telling me he doesn’t actually want any opposition. “Yes,” I whisper.

His voice drops an octave as he swears, rolling his hips into me once. I moan loudly. “Shhhh princess, you tryna alert the entire building?” He asks with amusement evident. I shake my head, no, and he laughs by my ear as he dips down. “Good, because I don’t like sharing your attention,” he says passively. “And I’d like to be the only ‘asshole,’ that gets to see what’s under these ridiculous clothes.”

“Hey!” I object meekly. I feel him smile as he leans away from my ear, and I turn my head over my shoulder to watch him peer down at where our bodies meet. “You probably want me to fuck you on this desk.” He speaks as though I’m not there to hear him. “Ya probably want to be taken here so that every time you’re sitting in my class, you can imagine me deep inside you.” He trails off as his hand pushes up my shirt, touching my lower back.

“But we can’t do that,” he sighs hoarsely.

“Why?” My reply is so quick that I grimace.

“Because, if we did, I’d be hard every time I’m in this fucking room, and that ain’t the smartest idea.” I moan at his crudeness and gasp when he pecks my naked spine, just below my bra clip. “Even your lingerie is pink huh?” He laughs smoothly. “Imagined it would be.” My legs rub together instinctively at his words.

“You imagined it?”

He pauses. “Hell yeah I did, though I tried to fight it,” he muses in between a groan. “It didn’t take me long to figure you wanted this too, princess,” he murmurs pleasantly.

After a long beat of silence and a little grinding, I speak up. “So now what? If you’re not going to make love to me here.”

He slowly pushes the hair over my face, behind my ear, tilting my head to face him just a bit. He then leans down and kisses me on the cheek.

“I’ll come to you,” is all Logan says as he reluctantly wrenches himself from me, after giving my ass cheek a mild slap. I yelp and nearly pout at the loss of touch. We hold eye contact as he backs away. “Get going, otherwise you’ll be late,” he comments airily. I nod and scurry out the room, with a grin plastered on my face.

...

After a long, vigorous rest of the day. I collapse into my plushy bed with a sigh.

“Took you long enough,” a dark voice rings, with a hint of familiar sass. I jolt up to see Logan leaning on my wardrobe. His tight shirt is further strained when his arms cross. “Been waiting to ‘make love' to ya all day,” he claims, with a mocking tone, repeating my "childish" words from earlier. My best guess is that he assumes I’m a virgin, from that sentence alone.

So, in an attempt to remedy my reputation, sitting up on my bed, with my arms bracing my figure, I slowly spread my bent legs. I bite my bottom lip, and his eyes shift down and blacken. “Get on with it then, Logan.” I roll my tongue as his name teasingly leaves my mouth. His head twitches in an almost feral manner, and I gulp.

“You’re asking for it,” is all he mumbles before pouncing on me. Our limbs tangle and I moan as his leg presses into my clothed clit. “Please,” I just about sob, to which he responds with an aggressive kiss and another crushing rub of his thigh. I moan louder, and he grunts, “You like that?” I push my hands into his hair, running my fingers through his thick locks. He lets out a coarse groan.

Loving how vocal he is, I decide to encourage him by groping his cock over his rugged jeans. “Fuck, baby,” he groans out when his mouth leaves mine. He then runs his tongue over my neck and collar, soon nibbling on my earlobe. His thigh continues to make work of me, and I match his pace. “You're so dirty,” he grins while his nose brushes my rosy cheek, and then he's kissing me. “I love it,” he professes with amusement, again, coaxing his tone.

Just as I begin undoing his belt, he flips me over on my stomach like before. Then, when I'm lying flat underneath him, he grabs my hips, to lift them towards his crotch as he kneels above. “I better see a pink thong,” he jokes as he strips me bare. He groans in satisfaction as I’m left in just my underwear for his viewing. “Unreal,” Logan practically purrs.

I wiggle my ass playfully, and he growls and smacks it harder than he did in his classroom. I squeal into my pillow, briskly going quiet when I hear his belt being ripped from the loops of his denim. Leaving my underwear in place, he runs his digits over the lace, making me whine, "Logan."

With his name on my tongue, it shortly turns into a cry as the lace covering my clit gets moved to the side, and two meaty fingers dive into me. "Shit, princess," he rasps. "How am I gonna fit?" He asks rhetorically, and I choke a sob, as he wastes no time building up an energetic pace, with his fingers.

He swiftly tears an orgasm from my trembling body, still holding my hips up with one hand. When his fingers leave, I hear his mouth clean them, and I swing my head to face him hastily, but he shoves my head back into my pillow. "So eager," he more or less snickers.

"Very," my smothered voice emits, barely audible.

I nearly shriek when his tip swipes my wet slit. Logan, without notice, suddenly pushes himself inside me, with an agonizing slowness, but I quietly persist. "Atta girl, that's it," he lazily groans out encouragements. My hands pathetically slide onto his thighs, unsure if I'm urging him for more, or begging for discretion.

At once, he shoves himself in all the way, and I let out an extensive sigh. His palm, which was just holding down my head, joins his other hand on my abandoned hip. He lets out various curses, along with my name, and begins to move, in and out. Soon enough, he's pounding into me at a savage rate, completely untamed. As well, it seems purposeful, how he simultaneously bends down to growl and moan in my ear, still thrusting.

He stirs another orgasm, still notably, not experiencing his own. "You look real pretty like this princess," he begins to ramble. "Gonna do this every fucking day." The rest of what he says gets lost in translation, as I grow overwhelmed and overstimulated.

Thoughtlessly, I try to crawl away while he still has my lower half hoisted up. Once Logan realizes what I'm up to, my pitiful effort has him laughing. "Where ya going?"

"Lo, it's too much-"

"Lo? Call me that again, it's cute," he hums.

"No more," I whimper, ignoring him.

"Just one more baby," Logan coos, while somehow increasing his pace, making me cum instantly, squirting a little. His moan rumbles in his chest, and he doesn't stop hammering into me. I grip my headboard, and one of his arms stretches alongside mine, to do the same.

When he cums, his grip snaps the wood, breaking a part of the headboard, making me shout in between sobs. He seems to not notice the damage, too busy finishing on my backside.

After a long minute, he slumps his large frame beside me. One of his arms stays drifting across my skin as his eyes intently coast over my features. "Maybe consider skipping my class more often," Logan expresses as his lips slightly tip upward. He presses his lips onto my shoulder. I smile, giggling, "Why?"

"Cause it doesn’t matter where I fuck you, there's nowhere I won't get hard looking at that pretty face," he smiles dreamily, "And you're impractical wardrobe.”

I giggle, "You truly have a way with words," I pause and smirk, "Mr. Howlett."

He rises onto his elbow with a devilish grin, "Now you're really asking for it princess."

Part two

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shiimmer · 2 months ago

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cherry kiss

sevika x f!stripper!reader

warnings! pole dancing (if that can be taken as a warning), public sex(??), fingering, orgasm denial, pussy slapping, slight choking, cunnilingus, masturbating, hair pulling, dom!sevika, sub!reader, sevika is a bit mean but we love it, she gets called ma’am once

men and minors dni!!

no mentions of y/n, but reader is called by her stage name cherry

word count: 3.4k words (i got a little too passionate…)

ৎ୭ summary: sevika found herself in a strip club, only to end up getting a lot more than a simple lap dance.

note: wrote smut for the first time in years, and idk how to feel. excuse me if this is absolutely shit, i was sleep deprived every time i was writing this. sorry for any errors, english isn’t my first language. not proofread!!

it isn’t exactly the place sevika usually finds herself in. strip clubs are not her thing. she prefers action over mere watching, but today just wasn’t it. not even a good lay in babette’s brothel can save her sour mood, which is more than surprising even for her. she doesn’t even know why she’s here. she just needs a distraction, and she knows the quietness of her place would only deepen her stress, which is something she really does not want right now, no matter how well she can handle it.

so here she is, in a strip club, surrounded by cheap smelling perfume, neon signs casting some light around the dimly lit place. boasting laughter, cheers and all sorts of other noises she’d rather block out from men around her fill her ears as they watch women dancing on the stage and sway around the pole. sevika, however, is completely silent. almost eerily so.

she just watches. glares, more like as she sits in the booth, awaiting another stripper nicknamed cherry, as the announcer says. ‘silly choice of a name,’ she thinks. her leg bounces under the table, swirling the whisky she just took a sip of on her tongue as the curtain spreads open, revealing you, and her body goes still. it’s like a spell, and sevika isn’t quite sure what has her so mesmerized the second you appear on that long, runway-like stage, neon lights shining on your almost naked body, the way they enhance the confident aura you give out. her grey eyes are focused solely on you, almost as if she’s judging your every movement. from the sway of your hips, to the subtle bounce of your breasts in that skimpy red bra as you stride toward the pole and your fingers wrap around the metal one by one.

a low hum rumbles in the back of her throat, a mixture of curiosity and appreciation while watching you perform. you clearly know what you’re doing, that sevika can see, and it works. even on her. she’d rather die than admit it out loud to anyone, but you have your charm to you and she likes it.

it’s like she’s not even blinking, at least that’s how it feels to you. you notice the woman’s gaze the second you approach the pole, and how it never moves away, not even when she takes a sip of her whisky. your coworkers shared their experience whenever they left the stage, saying how sevika’s glare caused them to nearly mess up their performance. in all honesty, it had made you nervous yourself while you waited for your own turn. dancing before a woman of such power, it’s nothing like dancing for all those nobodies who salivate over a sliver of skin shown. but as you had taken a first step on that stage, with your gaze immediately falling on her, all of that vanishes into something else, something you just can’t explain with words.

you give it your all, making sure to give her the show she never forgets and possibly needs, based on the worn out look she wears on her face. your body moves to the rhythm of the same song you always have to dance to. the song you’re normally so sick of, now gives you a rush. you dance with newfound passion, happy to show off your skills and body to silco’s number two. you play with her, yet you give her the most of you. fingertips lingering on your skin a second longer as you caress your body, from your hips to your breasts. looking over your shoulder when you’re turned towards the pole, the corners of your lips twitching up when you bend forward, showing off your thong-clad rear. it’s all for her, and you are absolutely enjoying the attention.

the endless cheering and lewd comments from men are fully blocked in your mind, your goal as clear as piltover’s sky. you want to make this woman watch you until the very end, to have her gaze on you and you only.

and oh, does it work. sevika’s gaze does not move away from you even when your performance ends and you go back backstage, and you’re certain her eyes are focused on your thighs as you walk. the euphoria you feel after this dance was nothing you’ve ever experienced. for the first time since working here, you’re almost disappointed that you had to leave the stage. your theme song that usually drags on suddenly felt short. you want to give her more of you, all of you.

you sulk in your seat, fixing up your neatly done makeup. there isn’t any need to fix it, you just want to get your mind off of the woman, but it’s completely useless. her grey eyes pollute your brain, and you can still see them when you close your eyes. never in your life were you this desperate for someone, it’s almost embarrassing. you sigh and put the makeup brush done, pursing your lips together. you wonder if you’ll see her again, if you’ll get to dance for her just like you had just a moment ago. you would give her more than just a plain dance show, so much more.

your thoughts get abruptly interrupted by your boss, her voice loud and demanding as she calls out to you. all you can do is hold back an eye roll and get up from the chair, making her way over to her with a look that can only be described as ‘i don’t get paid enough for this.’

“you’re expected in the vip salon,” she bites, her wrinkles crinkling under that heavy layer of makeup. “it’s a very important guest. don’t fuck it up.”

she taps your chest with her point finger, long nail stabbing your skin, and leaves the backstage. you watch her arrogant stomp, scoffing under your breath as soon as she’s far enough from you to not hear it. she calls every guest important, even the scummiest man in zaun is a ‘special guest.’ you know why she says it, she wants you to do your best, to not embarrass her brand, but it quickly gets annoying than encouraging.

your heels thump against the floor as you walk slowly to the salon, your mind running at full speed. you can only hope it’s sevika, but a part of you doubts it. there is no way she liked your performance so much she’d pay for private dance, right?

oh, how wrong you were.

the second you open the fluffy curtain, you’re met with those same steel eyes, belonging to none other than sevika. you eye her up and down, taking in the way she sits on the couch, her muscular thighs spread open and her exposed arm thrown over the backrest. you linger on the bare part of her lower stomach, abs peeking out of the crop top and v-line disappearing under the waistband of her pants. it’s a downright sinful sight, almost picture worthy.

“i didn’t pay for you to just stand there, did i?” her deep voice catches you off guard, and your eyes travel back up to her face. she’s smirking at you, fully aware of your gawking.

you can only pray to janna to survive this dance, secluded in a small room with this dangerously sexy woman.

“right. sorry,” you give her a small apologetic grin while walking to the small music box in the corner to tune in a song.

your hands are shaking a little, but it’s hardly nervousness. it’s excitement, anticipation, maybe even a hint of arousal. your blood is running hot, and you can feel a kick of energy, as if dosed on shimmer. none of your customers made you feel this way, but her.

your hands are already wrapped around the silver pole with your back facing her, ready to move to the music until her voice echoed in your ears.

“come here.”

your whole body stiffens, the music blocked out in your mind. being a stripper for years, never had you actually danced in front of a client. it’s sort of a rule for you; just watch but no touch, but when it comes to sevika, you are more than ready to forget it all just to please her. you pull yourself away from the pole and walk up to her, hands running over your sides. her eyes never leave your face and, by the gods, shivers run down your spine in waves, running all the way between your legs.

three more steps, and you finally stand between her spread thighs, and only now that you stand so close you notice just how damn thick they are. she looked better up close, no art or photo of her could do her justice, that you are sure of. a smirk makes its way on sevika’s lips as she watches your hips sway, your fingertips tap and stroke your skin. she is so into it, her hand is practically itching to just grab you by the waist and drag you down on her thigh.

it’s as if your minds link for a moment, because your smaller hand finds hers, guiding it to your stomach. sevika doesn’t react, at least not visibly, though you can’t say that about yourself. the second her rough, calloused palm runs over your abdomen to your hip, your body reacts on its own, almost like it isn’t even connected to your brain. she pulls you down on her leg, chuckling under her breath as your breath hitches. she has you where she wants you, and you can only comply to her every wish.

“babette’s is a few blocks away, y’know?” you mutter breathlessly, and you can only curse yourself out for how affected you are by her mere presence. it’s embarrassing, humiliating even, but you are oh so close to not give a single fuck. “someone can catch us here.”

sevika chuckles once more, liking your slightly mouthy attitude. it makes her want to put you in your place, take out her bad mood on you in all the ways she can. “by the way you’re reacting, i doubt you even give a damn,” her voice fills your ears, laced with a playful biting tone. “cherry.”

you suddenly feel coldness of a metal on your arm, pointy ridges of metal fingers digging into the flesh. she moves you around like a rag doll, like you weight nothing to her, until you straddle both of her legs and your thighs are spread apart. “tell me, what kind of services can you offer for extra coin?” she teases you, her thick fingers toying and pulling on the string of your thongs, making it snap back to your skin. “besides a little lap dance.”

the air is thick with tension, pushing down on your shoulders. it’s an intense, sexual sensation, one you can barely get enough of. you feel as if you are getting dragged by the ankle into the deep pit of unbridled lust, and it bubbles deep in your belly. you crave her.

you yearn for her.

“for you? anything,” you muster up the last bits of your attitude and smirk at her, your hand coming up to her right shoulder to steady yourself. “free of charge.”

it’s all sevika needs, and in a matter of seconds, she pounces on you, her lips running along your pulse. she doesn’t kiss, not yet. she merely toys with you, shapes you to her liking until you are but a mess. every touch of hers has a purpose, and unlike in a brothel, she is taking her sweet damn time. she’s frustrating herself by this point, all of the shit she had to deal with were simmering under the lid and ready to leak out, but something in her told her to utterly wreck you.

the music continues to play, silencing every small noise that escapes from your mouth. her fingers start to travel lower, following the fabric of the lace until the fingertips hover just above your clothed clit. she doesn’t even brush over it, yet you can feel your cunt clench around nothing. you bit on your bottom lip as sevika’s fingers linger on your thong, cheap cherry taste of your lipstick hitting your tongue.

“means that i can do this, right?” she asks into your skin, finally putting pressure on your clit. you jump in her lap, the sudden touch making you flinch away.

sevika doesn’t let you move away. she only chuckles when her mechanical arm goes down to your hip, pinning you to her lap like you are her trophy. there is no way she’s letting you go now, she wants to see you tremble.

your mind is hazy, and so foggy you can barely think of anything other than her, and the feeling of her fingers circling over your sensitive clit.

“do anything you want. i’m here to give you a show, aren’t i?” you try to keep your bravado, but it collapses like a house of cards the second her hand slips under the fabric, touching your cunt.

“fuck, you’re wet,” she laughs at you, pulling away from the crook of your neck to look into your eyes. “are you that desperate, or what?”

you cry out in pleasure as an answer, which is all she needs. her fingers tease your clit, circling it, pinching it between her thumb and point finger, which only makes you wetter for her. it’s as if you’ve never had a good fuck in your life, and she is there to fix that.

sevika continues to tease you for a few lingering seconds, simply enjoying the sight of you crumbling beneath her touch, until she moves lower and leaves your swollen bundle of nerves twitching, yearning for contact. she doesn’t waste time to slip not one, but two of her fingers into your drenched hole, stretching it out.

“oh fuck,” you groan out once you feel her fingers move, pumping into you in a rough, but slow pace.

she keeps them curled just right, brushing over that sweet spot that makes your back arch and your eyes roll back. it’s clear that she is experienced, because she knows just how to touch you to keep you shivering in her lap. you drop your head to look at her hand moving between your legs, but sevika doesn’t allow you that for long.

her prosthetic hand shoots up to your neck, cocking your head upwards to keep you from looking away. she only applies little pressure to your throat, not hard enough to choke you out, but rather a little warning.

“eyes on me, cherry,” she rasps out, her eyes so intense it sends shivers down your spine. “be a good girl.”

her voice has you clenching around her fingers, pathetic mewls of pleasure rolling out of your mouth. you have no choice but to keep your gaze on her, your sight blurry and slightly unfocused as sevika’s fingers continue to fuck your cunt. as much as she enjoys the sounds you’re making, your voice is slowly starting to get louder than the music that still plays in the background.

with the metal hand on your throat, she tugs you forward, crashing her lips on your in a bruising kiss to swallow the moans you’re letting out. she doesn’t give you a chance to let you dominate the kiss as her tongue slides into your mouth. she is in charge, and she’s letting you know it.

the taste of hard liquor and smoke hits your tongue, but you’re too deep in pleasure to cringe at the taste. in all honesty it turns you on even more. the sensation of her thick fingers, pumping in and out of your drenched pussy combined with her mouth on yours make you go crazy. you are so close, your orgasm just a few thrusts away.

the way your walls clench and unclench tells sevika that you’re about to cum, but where is the fun in giving you what you want so early. she pulls her fingers out, and when you try to whine in protest, she lands a few hard smacks on your cunt. you can feel the slaps even through the fabric of your lingerie, that’s how rough she is.

“not yet, cherry. i’m far from done with you,” she mumbles when she pulls away from the kiss, her lips glistening with the mixture of your and her saliva. she grins, reaching for one of many fluffy cushions and throwing it on the floor underneath you. “on your knees.”

she lets go of your throat, letting you sink down on the floor. your knees nuzzle into the softness of the pillow, hands falling on the buckle of her belt to undo it. sevika lifts her hips when you unbutton her pants, letting you pull them down along with her underwear. she pulls one leg out to spread her legs more, giving you space to get closer.

you don’t dive in right away. instead, you run your tongue over her thighs, all while looking up at her. it’s like your little revenge on her for teasing you before, and for not letting you cum. sevika grits her teeth, her nostrils flaring a little. a woman normally with patience of steel is suddenly a ticking bomb, ready to explode.

her real hand moves to your hair, grabbing a fistful of the strands. she doesn’t pull at it, but her grip is tight. “don’t test my patience. not today.”

the tone of her voice, authoritative and commanding gives you chills, your cunt once again clenching around nothing. your eyes wander over her body until it stops on the wet mess between her muscular legs, and that’s all it takes to convince you to give her what she wants.

“yes, ma’am,” you whisper, and sevika’s grip on your hair loosens just enough for you to move.

with one final glance at her face, you delve your tongue into her cunt, moaning at the taste of her. your nose nudges against her swollen clit, which makes her let out a deep moan. her whole expression falters as you eat her out, curses and noises escaping her mouth like a mantra, a sinful prayer.

“you’re good, cherry,” she praises you breathlessly, fingers combing through your hair. “you sure you – oh, fuck – didn’t choose a wrong profession?”

you don’t give her an answer, your mouth being too busy with her pussy to talk. you eat her like a woman starved, like she is your last meal. you can feel her slick staining your chin, but you can hardly care. you only have one goal in mind, and that’s to take her over the edge.

your own cunt throbs whenever she moans, or accidentally tugs at your hair when your tongue laps at her clit. you’re desperate for release, just as you are desperate for her. your hand slowly slides into your panties, chasing your orgasm as your fingers rub your clit.

sevika can see what you’re doing, but all she can think about is how well your mouth pleases her. she tries to compose herself, to last longer, but the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach is getting unbearable, the coil ready to snap at any moment. all she needs is one final push.

and you give it to her. your lips wrap around her clit, sucking on it, which is what sends sevika over the edge. she throws her head back and moans out loud, not even caring who might hear outside of the salon. she cums into your mouth, her thighs squeezing your head. your own orgasm follows right after, and you whimper into her cunt. your back arches, you can’t pull away nor can you catch a breath, not when her muscular thighs keep you in a lock. your whole lower face is buried in her cunt for a few seconds, and you have to tap on her thigh to let you go, your lungs begging for air.

she looks down at you and realization hits her, her legs spreading apart again to let you move. you both gasp for air when you pull away, pants filling the room. the music stopped playing a while ago, and it dawns on you that your time with her should’ve ended minutes ago. yet you find yourself unable to actually leave the salon, not when you have just silco’s second-in-command cum like that.

sevika, who is not in a better state than you, feels the same. she grins down at you, her hand caressing your hair with gentleness that’s almost uncharacteristic to her.

“you may be a stripper, cherry, but i think you just found yourself a regular.”

#lesbian #wlw #arcane #sevika #sevika smut #sevika x reader #i love women #arcane league of legends #lets go lesbians #i need her #sevika x you #arcane season 2

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saintkaylaa · 2 months ago

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𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 🩸

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4.4k

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐯𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐧𝐨𝐧-𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐚𝐮, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Kinktober 2024 || I know it’s late! But better late than never right👻 Thank you all for your patience and understanding! Especially after skipping 2 fics😭 but I think for my first kinktober I didn’t do too shabby (I hope). Thank you to my beta readers as always🤍 ART by aransmind on X

𝐈 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬

“Should we have a safe word?”

“What, are you scared?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you ran down a hallway. The loud creaky floorboards drowned out by the deafening buzzing trailing behind your every step.

Damn your boyfriend and his unlimited amount of curses.

Suguru had been chasing you around this dusty abandoned house for 20 minutes now. He managed to surprise you with what seemed like an unlimited amount of 3 and 4 grade level curses to slow you down. But it didn’t slow you down much; you were a special grade sorcerer too. Despite the rules of this game being that you could only use a cursed tool to defend yourself or exorcise curses.

Only now, as the swarm of fly heads chased you down the hallway with only a cursed blade, you wondered if maybe you were playing into Suguru’s plan by catching you at the end of the hall. The thought of him there waiting to pounce on you did much to remind you of the burning ache that begged for attention since you two had started this little chase.

But no, you couldn’t give up now. Not after 20 minutes, and the aphrodisiac that you and Suguru had taken together were barely kicking in. You were only just starting to feel that familiar neediness at your core, and you wondered if Suguru was beginning to get just as horny as you were.

You see the corner coming up, and you take a quick glance back at the fly heads chasing after you. Seeing them even closer on your heels than before, but you didn’t want to get caught just yet. So in the last second, you hit the floor to let the fly heads continue to fly over your head—successfully avoiding them.

“Damn it.” You hear a low, skin-prickling inducing voice grumble out, and you knew your hunch had been right. You laugh, sitting up on your heels as Suguru rounded the corner. He stepped out from the shadows, his Ghost Face mask strapped to the side of his face gleamed in the dim light filtering through the dusty windows. His expression was mostly neutral, but his gaze was piercing.

Suguru stalked forward, his movements slow and deliberate, almost predatory.

“Impressive," he said, his voice low and smooth. "But you can't run forever, angel."

He stopped short a foot away, looking down at you. “You know, when you suggested this, I thought you were crazy," he continued, his gaze raking over your form appreciatively.

"But now I’m thinking that I must be even crazier to understand the thrill."

He paused, tilting his head as if considering his next move. "You and I are a match made in hell.”

Suguru took another step forward and bent down to your level, his hand reaching out as if to caress your cheek. "How long do you think you will keep this up?"

You batted his hand away, not missing the clench in his jaw despite the smirk on his face. You knew how badly he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. You grinned, taking the fabric of his black shirt and pulling him closer. He bites his lip in anticipation, his lust-filled violet eyes dropping to your mouth and back up half-lidded.

Oh yeah, he was definitely feeling the effects of the aphrodisiac now.

You didn’t get a chance to see if he was hard when he was stalking towards you, but by the way he was looking at you, and the way he was breathing rather unsteadily right now told you that he wanted you. He needed you.

“If you want me that badly,” your lips graze over his. The cinnamon smell of his breath coaxing you in like he was putting a spell on you. You wanted to taste the inside of his mouth.

“You’re going to have to catch me first. Those are the rules, Suguru.”

He didn’t have time to react before you pulled at his shirt again and slammed him against the wall beside you. Moving him out of your way so that you could make a run for it.

Suguru grunted, bracing himself as he watched you disappear around the corner he had just emerged from. And on any normal day, you wouldn’t have gotten away with that. He was never that slow to react, and he was almost always quick to action in any situation. But the aphrodisiac was making it harder to focus, his mind clouded with thoughts of sinking deep into your pussy, feeling you wrap around him like a glove; and with a girlfriend like you, he was doomed from the start.

Suguru groaned as he palmed himself through his pants, his head thudding against the wall and finding a weak respite in that. Imagining that you kissed him just then and allowed him to fuck you right into these creaky floorboards instead of manhandling him out of your way.

He shook his head while getting up, trying to clear the fog and regain control. He needed to plan out how to end this frustrating cat-and-mouse game so that he could claim victor and then claim your pussy as reward. He couldn't let his lust consume him completely, not yet.

Suguru began to conjure more curses, his fingers weaving patterns in the air as he summoned a horde of Grade 3 curses. Spider-like creatures materialized before him, their forms twisting and writhing with malevolent intent.

"Let's see how long you can keep running, baby," he murmured, sending the curses scurrying down the hall after you. He followed at a more leisurely pace, knowing this would all be over soon.

As he closed in on the door that ended the next hallway, he paused, his footsteps getting lighter and more cautious. A smirk tugged at his lips as he spotted the faint disruption of dust motes at the bottom of the door; he knew where you were hiding.

Perfect.

Your heart raced as you entered the library. Your footsteps are light and careful not to give yourself away by the old, noisy floorboards. It was dark and dusty, with the only illumination being the pale white rays of the moon bleeding in from the large circled window at the end of the room. You took in the half-empty library quickly to look for a place to hide, before whatever curses Suguru had conjured up found you—or Suguru himself. Which admittedly you wanted; yes, that was the whole objective of this thrilling game, but you at least wanted to make him work for it. Really work for it. Really prove that you were just as good of a special-grade sorcerer as he was.

You quickly found a spot in the darkest corner of the room, crouching down next to the tattered loveseat and beat-up crates. Hopefully by hiding, you could wait him out until he got so hard and frustrated that he would beg you to end the game and get what you both wanted. Fuck, just the thought of it sent a heat down your pussy. Your thighs clenched in response.

Not a moment later, Suguru was entering the library, pushing open the creaky door, his eyes quickly scanning the shadows. He could sense your presence and feel the way the air seemed to vibrate with your energy.

"I know you're in here, angel," he purred, his voice echoing.

He began to circle the room, his footsteps slow and deliberate. The aphrodisiac was really kicking in now, his body thrumming with need, his cock straining against the confines of his pants at the thought of finally catching you.

As he neared the corner where you were hiding, he felt a shift in the air, a subtle change in the energy around him. As if both your cursed energies were pushing and pulling at each other.

"I can feel you, baby," he whispered, his voice low and dangerous.

He took another step, his senses on high alert, ready to pounce the moment he laid eyes on you. The game was nearly over, and soon he would have his prize. Suguru's gaze swept over the shadows, searching for any telltale sign of movement. He knew you were watching him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Or rather, a perfect moment to make your escape.

You watched him move closer and closer. Each step he took inducing more and more tension. If you timed this right, you could ambush him with the loveseat and make a run for the door. You waited and waited for what felt like forever; by now he must have known exactly where you were and was waiting for you to make a move. So when he was closest to the shelves, like he was about to move behind the loveseat, you sprung up. You pushed the chair his way to try and barricade him against the shelves. He cursed, bringing his arms up to shield himself. And you took that moment to run, but Suguru was much faster, and with a flick of his wrist, he commanded his curses to block you in. You tried to exorcise them, taking a swing at the spiders a few times before Suguru came up behind you, knocking the cursed blade out of your hands.

You were cornered now. With the spider-looking curses surrounding you, the cursed blade knocked out of your hand, and the loveseat behind you, this was it.

Damn, you couldn’t even last an hour.

All that was left now was to see how long you both would last until the inevitable climax consumed you two together.

He was backing you towards the loveseat. Suguru’s grin grew wider at what putting you in the loveseat could entail. Eating your pussy, fucking you into the seat, fucking your throat, or even making you ride him until he was nothing but a fucked-out mess on the seat. The possibilities were torturous to think about.

“This was too easy.” Suguru hums, and with a snap of his fingers, web after web is tying your hands together and then lifting them over your head with a wave of his hand. You struggle some, but you accept rather instantly that you’ve been beat, and so you let everything just happen.

In the next moment you’re yanked back, your arms pulling back first and then your body, and you land roughly into the loveseat. The chair slides against the floor with a loud screech, and dust flies everywhere.

Suguru's breath hitches as he looms over you, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with need. "All tied up for me, begging to be eaten."

His other hand trails down your body, skimming over the curves he knew so well, the ones he'd explored countless times before. But this time, everything felt heightened, magnified, as if he were feeling you for the first time.

Suguru leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I'm going to devour you, angel," he whispered, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"And then I'm going to fuck you so hard, so deep, that you'll feel me for days."

His hand slid lower, his fingers teasing along the waistband of your pants. "Is that what you want, baby?"

You stay silent. You were still partly upset that you lost this quickly, and the other part—more importantly— his touch was rendering you speechless. Your skin felt prickly under his touch—needy. Your eyes locked intensely on his, making you want to whine just by the way he was looking at you.

His fingers rested against your stomach, lightly pinning you in place.

"Do you want me to touch you?” He asks, his fingers trailing up slowly and with a little more pressure. You squirm the tiniest bit as he gets closer to one of your tits. But, when he notices that you’re purposely trying to contain your noises, he does something absolutely diabolical.

He takes his knee and knocks your legs further apart so that he could slot his knee right against your pussy. He pushes against you and presses against your clit in the most delicious way. Your head slumps back, and your mouth falls open to sigh in blissful relief.

Suguru's eyes darkened watching all of your reactions to his touch—the way your body squirmed and writhed beneath him. He could feel the heat of your pussy through the fabric of both your clothing.

He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours. "Do I make you feel good?" He asked, his voice low and seductive.

Without waiting for your response, he slid his hand up your body again, his fingers grazing over the soft curve of your breast. Feeling your nipple hardening beneath the thin fabric of your shirt. Your breath hitches as he brushes against it—circling it slowly.

Suguru's other hand moves lower, his fingers teasing along the hem of your pants.

"How wet do you think you are right now?" He asked, his knee pressing harder against your pussy. When you make a whimpering sound he looks back up at you. "You're dripping, aren't you? Soaking right through your panties.”

He grounds his knee against your clit, reveling in the way your hips buck up against him, seeking more friction. "That's it, angel," he murmured, his own arousal throbbing insistently against his zipper.

His fingers then dip beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers sliding down your stomach with pressure until he reaches your pussy. His touch gets light and brushes against the sticky heat of your folds.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groaned, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. "I want to taste you so fucking bad." He’s so close now, nipping at your neck and lightly sucking marks across your collar. “I want you to cum on my tongue.”

He teases your pussy for what feels like forever. Just rubbing and petting your lips and smearing your slick all over, purposely ignoring your clit, while he pulls whine after whine out of you. He knows he’s torturing you; that’s exactly what he wanted for evading him for as long as you did.

“Suguru…” you say breathlessly, trying hard to focus on what you wanted to say. But with your hands still tightly bound and high above your head, and Suguru now biting your overly sensitive nipples through your top, while his fingers pet your weeping pussy…

Wait, fuck, you lost your train of thought.

“Suguru.” You say a little louder when you inhale a breath. He hums, using his other hand to pull your top up slowly. You watch him as his violet eyes travel up your body as he pulls your top over your tits and tucks the fabric into your mouth. Gagging you.

“You lost, angel. No use in protesting.” He smirks, eyes half-lidded and looking at you with such chilling intensity that you half think he’s about to actually devour you. The ghost face mask hanging loosely to the side of his face does little to unconvince you of that thought.

There’s a stretch of silence that passes between you two, thick and heavy with primal energy. You wait; your heavy breath is the only thing audible since gagging you. And Suguru just stares at you with a shit eating grin that tells you that he’s enjoying this way too much.

Fuck him.

After a few minutes, his hands move to your pants as he starts unbuckling them slowly—his eyes never leaving yours. In fact, they gleam at the sight of you spread out for him when he adjusts your legs. Your top pulled up to gag you, your pants still partially on. With deliberate slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and begins to tug them down, inch by excruciating inch. He watches your face the whole time, drinking in every furrow of your brows, every squint of your eyes, and every whimper that escapes you and muffles into the fabric of your shirt.

Once your pants are off, he tosses them aside carelessly, his gaze roaming over your bare pussy, glistening and sticky.

"Look at you," he purrs, his voice rough with lust. "So wet, so ready for me."

Suguru settles himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he leans in. Spreading you open, he starts at your inner thighs, placing soft, wet, open-mouthed kisses along your sensitive skin, working his way up to your pussy, his hot breath fanning against your heat.

When he reaches your folds, your body tenses when you see his tongue lull out, getting closer and then giving your pussy a teasing lick. The sensation makes you involuntarily buck your hips closer to him, wanting his tongue deeper.

"Mmm, you always taste so fucking good," he rasps, giving you one last look before diving in, his tongue delving deeper into you just like you wanted. A loud but muffled sound erupts out of you.

He laps at you furiously, his tongue swirling around your clit—alternating between circles and side to side, with each motion. Each movement was building that pressure closer to climax. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting your legs up and close to your chest, grunting as he manhandles you. Then he flattens his tongue against you with a few sloppy licks up the length of your pussy, and your vision blurs from the feeling.

You were dizzy from the sensory overload and the supersensitivity that was resulting from the aphrodisiac still swirling inside you. God, his tongue felt so good, so hot, and hungry. You pull at the binds at your wrist, wanting nothing more than to push your boyfriend’s face deeper into you. Wishing you could ride his face right over the edge.

Suguru’s cock hurt so bad; he was so fucking desperate to plunge himself so deep inside you that one wouldn't begin to know where your body started and his ended. But not yet; he had to hold himself together long enough to show you how much of a loser you actually were.

Suguru brought his arm up to wedge his forearm under your knees so that his free hand could join his mouth. Two fingers slipping inside you, curling against that spot that made you see stars. He pumped them in and out almost immediately, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault on your clit. His brows furrowing with determination, ready to push you over the edge and drink every last drop. He could feel you getting closer; he could feel the way your body tensed, your pussy clenching around his fingers, wishing it was his thick, fat cock that your pussy was so used to. Fuck, he knew you were ready to come.

Shit, you could feel it.

Pushing the makeshift gag out of your mouth, you moaned out his name, “S-Suguru. Suguru, fuck, I’m so close!”

He goes faster. Fucking you with his fingers harder. And the sounds your pussy and his mouth make together echoes off the walls of the library. It was so filthy.

“Fuckfuckfuck, baby, I’m right there!” Your body stiffens against him as you feel yourself slipping into a mind-numbing orgasm. But then suddenly he stops, and slaps your pussy hard, and the wet, sticky sound it makes is nasty.

You yell and whine and curse at him for ripping you away from cumming. When you spread your thighs apart to get a good look at him, he’s grinning, his lips swollen and shiny with all your juices. You want to kick him in the face.

“Untie me right now so I can beat the shit out of you!” You yell with genuine anger, and he laughs, sitting back on his heels and letting your legs fall back down. It was a heady feeling, knowing he had this much power over you, that he could reduce you to a writhing, desperate mess. He knew what he did and wanted you to know it too.

“That’s what you get for earlier.” He says, moving to stand up.

Fuck, he’s so damn hard that if he wasn’t wearing black pants, you’d probably be able to see the giant wet spot of his precum staining the front.

He stepped closer, towering over your bound form, his erection straining against his pants. "You’re really in no position to make demands..." He licks his lips, savoring the memory of your taste.

You furrow your brows and your expression is full of bitter indignation.

Suguru then leans in, his lips brushing against yours. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Forgive me, and I'll make it up to you. I'll give you what you need. I'll make you cum so hard, you'll forget all about being mad at me."

To prove his point, he captured your lips in a searing kiss before you could think to respond. His tongue meets yours deep, claiming your mouth as thoroughly as he planned to claim your pussy. It felt like he was sucking out all the air out of you, and all you could taste was yourself on his tongue.

When he finally pulled back, Suguru's eyes were dark with lust, his pupils blown wide—surely mirroring yours.

"Ride me," he commanded, his voice rough and grabbing your face roughly.

With that, he unties you himself. Taking the discarded blade off the floor to slice through the webs binding your hands. Your arms move in tandem with his, wrapping around his neck as his encloses around you. He lifts you up and pulls you flush against his chest so he can swap positions over the loveseat. He sat down, straddling you over his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

Suguru's hands gripped your waist, keeping you up right so that he could hastily free his cock for you. "Take me, baby," he pleaded, violet eyes locked on yours.

You hesitate for a moment, fighting the urge to deny him, and think to give him a taste of his own medicine. But when you see how red and painful his cock looks, you're reminded of how badly you also want to cum. So you fuck all your reservations to hell and slowly lower your pussy onto him.

Uniform moans fall out of both of you over rightfully connecting the way your bodies have been wanting to all night. In that moment, the game, the chase—this whole thing didn’t even matter anymore because all you both wanted to do was fuck each other.

“Fuuuck baby, I’m so horny.” Suguru says quickly through a hiss and you almost miss it. And he’s gripping onto you so tight, holding you so close against him that you feel like you’re one person. Being inside you felt like coming home, like finding a piece of himself he hadn't even known was missing.

He rolled his hips up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside, stretching you, filling you in a way that made you both see stars. Suguru's head fell back against the loveseat, his eyes squeezing shut as he lost himself in the sensation of you, the way your walls welcomed him, the way your nails dug into his shoulders.

He says your name, and you're pulled out of your haze. “Use me." Grits through his teeth, his voice strained with pleasure.

His hands slide up your body, and under your bra to cup your tits, kneading them tenderly. He could feel your nipples pebbling against his palms; he could hear the catch in your breath as he pinched and rolled them between his fingers.

Your hips snapped down, fucking yourself so hard and fast that the loveseat began creaking beneath you. And he’s moaning with you, his cock so goddamn sensitive he could already feel his release building. The tension coiling tighter and tighter in his belly, but he held back, determined to bring you over with him.

"That's it, baby," he panted, his head leaned back against the chair, his eyes looking up at you with awe. "Come all over my cock."

Suguru could feel your body tensing; he could feel the way your muscles quivered and twitched as you also neared your orgasm. He redoubled his efforts, his hips pistoning up to meet you, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made you let out cries that bordered pornographic.

"Come on, angel," he urged, his voice rough with desperation.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, his fingers digging into your fat as he guided your movements, helping you to grind down onto him to take him deeper. This was it. He could feel his release fast approaching; he could feel the base of his spine tingling, his balls drawing up tight.

"Fuck, I'm close," he growls, his teeth gritted against the onslaught of sensation. "Come with me, please."

The only thing you could do was nod furiously, wrapping your arms around his neck, and tangling your fingers into his long, dark hair—preparing for an earth-shattering orgasm. Suguru captured your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your cries while you both came together. Then you shattered, your pussy clamping down around him with a broken cry of his name. The rhythmic flutter of your walls was his undoing, and with a hoarse shout, he followed you over the edge, spilling himself deep inside you.

You two stayed collapsed and melted into the loveseat for what felt like hours, joined, connected, your bodies still coming down from the aftershocks. Suguru's arms wrapped around you, holding you close, his forehead resting against your shoulder and peppering it with kisses. Your body felt like it was floating.

"I can’t feel my body," he chuckles, his voice husky with satisfaction.

You hummed, shifting slightly so that you could press a soft kiss to his lips, a tender gesture that contrasted the carnal sex you just had. "Yea, losing has never felt this good.”

He laughs, shifting to one side so he could pluck his ghost face mask that had fallen in between the cushions. It’s face was smooshed and warped. Suguru began to put it back on when you stopped him. Making a weird face and shaking your head, making him chuckle.

“What? I thought this was your favorite scary movie.”

ᯓ★𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝

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