#to keep the flow steady instead of crazy

[filthyjanuary]

hey guys back on here trying not to kms because i think i lost my keys, fob and airpods which were all on one keychain that has disappeared into the void so i am filling this pit with more tumblr time instead of smashing my head into the wall like i wanted to

[spencerreidenjoyer]

please, please, please | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.8k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: office sex, professor!spencer/student!fem!reader, age gap (20 years?), rough sex, blowjobs, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, title kink (being called sir), questionable relationship, dubious consent (they both want it but again it’s teacher/student so…)

a/n: read too many professor!spencer fics and decided i had to throw my hat in the ring. i feel crazy and i need him desperately. pls go crazy with me too. (ao3 link here!)

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how Dr. Spencer Reid fails to hide the way he stares at you in his lectures, his eyes always lingering on you even when he’s addressing the entire classroom. 

Maybe you’re just sensitive to his gaze, because he’s an extremely intelligent man whose attention you’re more than happy to have on you, given the fact that he is insanely attractive.

Maybe you’re just as attracted to him as he seems to be with you, because you absolutely preen at the attention Dr. Reid gives you in class, words of praise over your ideas often free-flowing from his lips.

Maybe because you know how hot you are, you shouldn’t have come into Dr. Reid’s office in a low-cut top and a short plaid skirt asking to discuss your final essay in his Criminal Psychology class. 

Both you and Dr. Reid know you’re more than capable of acing this paper, your in-class ideas clearly brilliant enough to impress Dr. Reid himself. And yet, you’re in his office, seemingly worried about how to get your thoughts across on paper. 

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice how you’re positively bluffing, a little too eloquent to sound truly uncertain of yourself in your work for Dr. Reid’s class.

It doesn’t take an FBI profiler to notice the way Dr. Reid is staring at your tits in your top, eyes only flicking back up to your face when he realises he should be looking at you while you speak instead of at your… assets.

“Sir, did you catch what I just said?” You prod, very aware he most definitely did not hear you. You note how his eyes widen when you call him sir. 

“Um– Well, I–” Dr. Reid starts, but it’s no use. 

You stand up, putting your hands on the desk as you sigh, “Dr. Reid, I’m sorry if I’m boring you with my thought process.”

Your arms frame your tits just right, and you catch the way Dr. Reid’s eyes inevitably flit down to your cleavage. It’s so obvious when he looks back up at you, and you see his face redden. You quirk an eyebrow at him as a challenge of sorts, and he looks somewhat apologetic. 

Dr. Reid clears his throat. He avoids your eyes for a moment, as he moves to take off his blazer. “I apologise. I’m just… distracted at the moment.”

“I wonder why that is,” you hum, twirling a piece of your hair with your index finger, like you’re deep in thought. Then, like the already-obvious answer just hits you, you add, with a pout: “Oh! Do I distract you, sir?” 

“What are you doing?” Dr. Reid asks, and you can hear the way he’s trying to keep his voice steady, calm.

“I don’t know, sir,” you shrug. “Maybe you should share your thoughts with me.”

Dr. Reid blinks at you, takes the sight of you in. “Well, you’re giving me a hard time right about now.”

“Why?” You cock your head to the side. He closes his eyes and breathes in deep, just for a moment. 

Your professor’s tone biting, he answers candidly, “Your revealing clothing choice makes it difficult for me to focus. I didn’t expect you to dress like a slut when you were coming into my office for a simple consultation.”

Your sharp inhale is audible in the pindrop-silent room. Dr. Reid meets your eyes. He pauses for a moment, and you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lips. His eyes are dark. With a flick of his finger, he says, “Come here.”

You think of leaning over the desk just to fuck with him even more, but Dr. Reid looks so serious you think you might be in actual trouble. You scurry over to his side of the desk, standing next to him. He turns his chair towards you, and you can see the bulge in your professor’s pants. He’s big.

“You want this?” Dr. Reid says gently. It’s a loaded question. 

Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, you nod. “Yes, sir. I want you.”

“Good. Then get on your knees.” It’s a command, in a deep voice you’ve never heard from Dr. Reid in the past three months in his lectures. You hope your knees won’t bruise from the way you fall to them in a heartbeat.

“I didn’t think you would be such a slut.” Dr. Reid smirks, and it makes a shiver run down your spine. His hand reaches towards you, cups your cheek. He slaps your cheek gently, but the suddenness makes you gasp. “Fuck, you drive me crazy in class, but now I have you like this? I must have done something amazing in a past life to have you on your knees for me now.”

“Sir,” you exhale shakily. His touch is soft, his thumb stroking your cheek with a surprising sweetness. 

“Let’s put that mouth to good use, hmm?” Dr. Reid says, his tone warm, syrupy sweet. He reaches for his belt, the metal clink as he undoes it making heat quickly pool between your legs. The belt gets tossed aside and he unzips his fly, pulling his half-hard cock out. You watch as his large hand wraps around himself, as he strokes his cock absentmindedly. His eyes are only on you. Your body flushes hot with arousal.

Dr. Reid beckons you closer with a finger. You look up at him, and you take his cock in your hand. His eyes tell you everything you need to know. You lean forward to take him into your mouth. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock softly, the warmth of your mouth probably feeling like heaven as Dr. Reid moans quietly as you do. You swirl your tongue over his tip, tasting the saltiness of his precome.

His hand comes up to the back of your head as he watches you suck his cock. You’re kitten-licking at his tip, which doesn’t seem like enough for him. Dr. Reid pushes your head down on his cock, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. He’s big, so the sudden fullness of your mouth coupled with the way he hits the back of your throat makes you choke slightly. You glance up at him. He’s smirking. 

“I’m sure you know how to suck cock, don’t you? Like this, sweetheart.” His tone is close to condescending, as the fist in your hair drags your head up and down on his cock. While it’s not like you don’t know how to please a man, Dr. Reid treating you this way makes you swoon – his teacherly mannerisms turning you on impossibly. 

You gag as Dr. Reid fucks your face down onto his cock, his groans mixing with your wet, choked noises. He clearly seems to enjoy this, using you how he pleases, uncaring of your own arousal. It’s so hot you feel like you might explode. You hope you’ll get more out of this than just sucking your professor off, because if he doesn’t reciprocate you might have half a mind to report him for unprofessional conduct.

But Dr. Reid is moaning into his fist, eyebrows furrowed as you blow him, and you’ve always wanted to please your professor; be it in class or right in this moment.

You reach up to grab Dr. Reid by his wrist, tapping his arm to get his attention. His eyelids flutter open, revealing his gorgeously deep brown eyes. He looks at you, slightly concerned. “What’s the matter?”

You swallow hard. “Sir, I– Will you fuck me? Please? I want- I want to feel you inside.”

Dr. Reid closes his eyes for a moment, breathes through his nose. “Holy fucking shit,” He murmurs to himself, before he says, louder, “Okay. Yes. Fuck, you’re so sexy.”

You don’t get up from your knees, not just yet. You look up at him, hands in your lap, waiting for him to tell you what to do. You smirk up at him. Dr. Reid sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, and says, “You little minx. Get up on my desk.”

He extends a hand to help you up, your legs shaky from being on your knees. You look behind you to figure out how to get yourself onto the desk, but Dr. Reid is also on his feet now, and he hoists you up onto the desk, easily getting between your spread legs. You steady yourself by placing your hands out behind you, and shudder when Dr. Reid’s big, warm hands grab at your thighs. He squeezes at the flesh, before one hand comes down to your clothed pussy. He swipes his thumb over your clit, over your hole, and he tuts. “You’re so wet already. You must be desperate.”

You shudder. Dr. Reid’s touch is not enough to feel good, as he barely teases you over your panties. “You should do something about it, Professor.”

“I will,” he says. Dr. Reid exhales, looking down between where your bodies are pressed close, his hard cock pressed against your cunt. “Look at what you’ve done to me. You’ve ruined me.”

“Sir,” you say sultrily. “You should fuck me now.”

“I will,” he repeats, his hand on your hip. He looks you up and down, and then Dr. Reid’s hand is sliding across your thigh, his fingers slipping up the hem of your skirt. You feel calloused thumbs teasing at the waistband of your panties, feel them dip past the elastic to pull them down. 

Cool air hits your cunt, as Dr. Reid slides your panties off your legs. He’s looking down at you, between your legs, clearly enjoying the view. You clear your throat, and he looks up at you, almost sheepish. He says, his voice cracking slightly, “You’re gorgeous.”

You smile. “You’re not so bad yourself, Dr. Reid.”

“Yeah?” He laughs. “I’m glad you think so.”

As you talk, Dr. Reid has mindlessly started to rut his cock along your leaking cunt, your steadily-flowing slick making the slide easy. It’s so good, even just the friction of your professor frotting against you. You hold back a moan, looking up into Dr. Reid’s eyes.

“Sir– Oh, fuck,” you moan, as his cock slips inside of you with the way he grinds against you, your hole letting him in too easily. You’re so wet that he’d just slipped in. The feeling stuns you both, wet heat around Dr. Reid’s cock. He’s still rocking his hips back and forth, which pulls him out of you and pushes him back in. The head of his cock pushes back into you, and you both moan. You cry, “More, Dr. Reid.”

Dr. Reid steadies himself as he starts to fuck you, the movement of his hips shifting as he thrusts into you proper. There’s a practised ease in his thrusts, confident as he takes you on his desk. Your head falls forward, hair in your face, as your body takes in the feeling of your professor’s cock buried inside of you.

“You feel so good,” Dr. Reid grunts, his cock fucking in and out of you. He’s filling you up just the way you need it, his thickness stretching you out so deliciously. You clench around him at the praise, and his hips stutter. “So tight for me, sweetheart.”

And then, you can’t explain what you do next. You can’t help yourself, as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck, smelling his musky perfume and sweat. You whimper. You feel so good you don’t know what else to do with your body, but Dr. Reid doesn’t push you away. One of his arms wraps around your waist, his hand on the small of your back feeling so warm through your thin top, even though you’re feeling so hot you could explode. 

You feel yourself being pushed onto your back onto the heavy wooden desk, Dr. Reid’s weight pressing down on you. Like this, you feel his cock press inside of you impossibly deeper, and it’s so good you feel like screaming – you don’t, obviously you can’t, but you muffle a moan into his shoulder instead.

“Such a good girl,” Dr. Reid murmurs softly, his cock punching deep inside of you. Each of his thrusts sends electric pleasure up your spine, through your nerves, and you’re tearing up from how good this feels. “Fuck, I wish I could hear you scream for me.”

You whimper, a broken cry pressed against his neck. “Dr. Reid–”

“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” Dr. Reid coos softly. “You’re doing so good, keeping it down for me. So good for me.”

You don’t like feeling so pathetic, but Dr. Reid makes you feel safe even while you’re vulnerable, while he’s fucking you on his office desk. You sob, “Dr. Reid, it’s too good– I’m gonna cum, I– please–”

“Come on,” he grunts, his voice laboured as he pants. “Cum for me, my darling.”

Your gasp is louder than you’d like it to be, in a professor’s office of all places, but you feel too good to remember to keep it down. You shudder through your orgasm, unable to control the way your body reacts to all the pleasure given to you. 

“Fuck,” Dr. Reid blurts, his cock sliding out of you faster than you expect. You whine, but Dr. Reid is cumming all over your cunt, thick, hot spurts all over already-slick skin. “Oh, shit. Fuck.”

You’re thankful Dr. Reid didn’t cum inside, only because he didn’t have a condom on. You feel like a mess, but Dr. Reid’s looking at you like you’re a goddess. You feel his softening cock resting on your thigh. You want to go again, to feel him inside of you again, but perhaps that’s too desperate. 

When his head is clear, Dr. Reid is quick to step back, reaching into the desk drawer. 

“Sorry, let me just–” The commandeering, dominant Dr. Reid you just met is now gone, back to his slightly silly, bumbling self. He takes two wipes out from the packet of wet wipes he had pulled out from the drawer in his haste, but his hands are gentle when he wipes you clean. His touch is soft, sweet, and you feel so special in his hands. “I’m sorry I made a mess of you.”

You chuckle. “Dr. Reid, I’m more than okay with it. I think it comes with the territory.”

He smiles, albeit a little awkwardly. “Yeah, you’re right. I just don’t do this often, I suppose.”

“Oh, please. As if you don’t have other students throwing themselves at you too, Dr. Reid,” you laugh, waving him off.

“I do, but I’ve never done anything with them. Even if they try to proposition me, I tell them to leave my office. I’ve only… It’s just you.”

You’re stunned for a moment, blinking up at him. “You… Seriously?”

He frowns slightly. “Does it seem like I sleep around with my students often?”

“No! No, I just– I didn’t expect that. I thought you would be more… experienced? Considering how readily you let me… seduce you. I guess.”

“You’re definitely convincing,” Dr. Reid smiles. “Besides, I think you’re really special. I’ve never had a student like you.”

“Oh,” you say, because what else can you say in this scenario? Should you say anything else? It’s starting to hit you now, the implications of what you’ve just done walking into your professor’s office like this. “That’s… flattering.”

He tilts his head, brows furrowing. “Your pause seems to imply you don’t really mean that.”

“Oh, no, Dr. Reid, not at all, I–” You shake your head. “I’m really flattered that you think I’m special, I just– I’m not sure how I can navigate this. We’ve had sex, and it’s really hitting me now that I should not have seduced my professor because that’s definitely a violation of conduct, and–”

“Hey, relax,” Dr. Reid says, putting his hand on your shoulder. You breathe in deep. Dr. Reid looks at you warmly, and says, “I know we probably shouldn’t have done this, but I couldn’t resist you. And besides, it’s already done. We’re close to the end of the semester anyways. If you– I– If you want to continue this… outside of campus, I’d be more than happy to.”

“Dr. Reid,” you gasp, shocked that your professor would even be interested enough in you to suggest something like that. A relationship, outside of class? Or whatever it is he was thinking of. Frankly, even if Dr. Reid wants to meet once a month just to fuck, you’d take whatever you could get, especially with a man as gorgeous as him.

“Call me Spencer. Please,” he smiles. “Outside of class, at least.”

You grin. “Okay, Spencer.”

[sxcret-garden]

Making out with Ateez

ღ Ateez all members x gn!reader ღ genre: fluff (?), very suggestive (not quite smut yet, but also not appropriate for my sfw blog so I'm posting it here :')) ღ warnings: none

Hongjoong:

You've barely taken off all your clothes when he's already pulling you into the shower, a smile on his face filled with adoration for you, and he can't take his eyes off you. You've been making out for quite a while before this, and from the way he touches you unhurriedly and with much care you can tell he can keep going like this for another while until the need for more will finally overcome him. But for now he pulls you close gently, a smile still present on his lips as he leans in to give you a short kiss, and when he turns on the shower and the warm water flows down your skin, you relax yet a little more in his arms. Fingertips dancing down your back and drawing little pattern along your spine, he plants a soft kiss on your forehead, the tip of your nose, and finally your lips, where he lingers. The taste of him and that of the water mixes on your tongue as he parts your lips to deepen the kiss, and one of his hands snake up to the back of your neck to support you there. Chest pressed against chest, all you can do is hold onto his shoulders as he kisses you with great care, but need is slowly taking over his movements. Teeth nibbling on your lower lip, he only gets more eager when he hears you moan at his actions, and eventually his palms wander from your back to your front, touching you there. "Hongjoong..." you call out his name in between kisses, "I need you." Your muttered words are met with darkened eyes and a promise to take care of you, before he closes the distance between you two again. His kiss is almost rushed this time, though he's careful when pushing you against the shower wall so you two won't slip. The impact makes you gasp - merely an excuse for him to move away from your lips, starting to trail kisses down your throat and chest instead.

Seonghwa:

With his hand on the small of your back he brings you in closer, eyes glued to your mouth as his tongue darts over his bottom lip. The tension is obvious in the whole room, and though you feel like you could burst right then and there, you drag out the wait just a little longer. As you're sitting in his lap, you roll your hips once, drawing a barely audible sound from him and you watch as his eyes flutter shut for a second. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, you play with the ends of his short hair, and then finally you lean in. It's you who makes the first move, but you know that Seonghwa will soon take the lead from you - too high his confidence in making you go crazy with a single kiss, and too big his greed to feel you giving yourself up to him completely on top of him. You brush your lips against the corner of his mouth softly, withdrawing immediately so as to keep him from making you hand over control right away, but when you lean in once more you can't resist the velvety sensation of his lips against yours. His touches are hot from the start, kissing you as if he wanted to devour you - but in a very graceful way that has fooled you before. His fingertips sneaking underneath your clothes and leaving teasing touches on your skin are burning, and yet you want more, and when you wiggle even closer to him you already know he's got you trapped under his spell. Tongue skillfully exploring your mouth, his hand at the small of your back gives you but one nudge to make you roll your hips on top of him at a steady pace, and as you feel his bulge growing underneath you, heat rushes through your own body as well.

Yunho:

You crawl on top of him, straddling him on your bed, and taking off your shirt, you throw him a smile. Yunho simply watches, hands flying to your hips instinctively, but his fingertips merely brush against the skin there. He lets you have the lead for now, curious of what you’re about to do. You cup his face in both your hands and you lean in, lips brushing against his and lingering for a while, and when you bring some distance between the two of you to get a good look at his face, you can see the desire burning up behind his half-lidded eyes. “You want me?” you ask while you shoot him a playful grin, and when you see him nod ever so slightly, you press your index finger against his parted lips. “Let’s go slow today, baby.” Leaning back in, you kiss him unhurriedly. You feel him falling into your rhythm, letting you lead as your palms begin to roam his chest and eventually you rake your fingers up into his hair. Tugging at the strands as you part his lips with your tongue, you deepen the kiss. And though you can feel a fire ignite deep inside you, you keep going slow. Eventually you pull his shirt off him too, both of you now sitting up, and Yunho’s hands are grasping at you more firmly. Palms placed on your sides, he looks up at you, and you take in his expression as you roll your hips on top of him once, watching as his eyelids flutter shut momentarily. Muttered words of praise escape you, before you press your lips onto his once more, and suddenly the way you find yourself kissing him becomes sloppy and impatient. With his hands dancing up your torso, you grind against him, and eventually he cups your face and he breaks the kiss. Thumb brushing over your lower lip, his gaze drops to your mouth, and as he draws closer, you know it’s his turn to take the lead now. Nibbling on your bottom lip, he makes you moan into the next kiss, and you allow yourself to melt against his touch, until he flips your positions, now hovering above you. You throw your arms around his shoulders, reaching up into his hair again, and you throw your head back as he begins leaving kisses down your throat, and moving further down, and soon his lips are mapping out your whole body. 

Yeosang:

What started as a few playful kisses to motivate him during his workout is beginning to turn into more of a heated makeout session than you two had planned. He had wanted to get in a few quick exercises at home, and as he was doing sit ups you had decided to help him, taking a hold of his legs to steady him and receiving a peck on the lips with every time he came all the way up. You were giggling about it at first, but sure enough the sight of your boyfriend working out in a sleeveless shirt awakened entirely different feelings within you. And so you’re now hovering above him as he’s lying down on the floor, leaning in for a teasing kiss on the lips. Too soon you move on to make your way from the corner of his mouth down his throat, and when he leans his head back to give you better access, you linger there for a while. Nipping at the skin and luring a deep moan out of him as you sink your teeth into one particular spot, you remind yourself not to leave a mark on him where it would be visible. Instead, you come back up to have a look at his face, and one of your hands finds its way underneath his shirt. Fingertips dancing over his abs, you make your way to his chest, pulling up the piece of clothing as you go. Yeosang lets you, curious eyes watching your every move, and when you begin leaving kisses down his chest, you feel him letting go of the tension in his body underneath you. You reach his stomach eventually, letting your lips explore that area of his body as well, and eventually you force yourself to make your way back up. “Not yet,” you whisper, barely audible, finding a hint of impatience in the look he gives you. You lean back in, kissing him properly and not wasting much time to deepen the kiss as you moan into his mouth. With you taking the lead, he follows you, his arms sneaking around your waist to pull you closer. Eventually, you find yourself reaching for his wrists, your lips brushing against his palms, and as you pin his hands above his head, he simply lets you, longing for your next kiss. 

San:

You know your boyfriend is doing this on purpose whenever he gets out of the shower, towel merely wrapped around his hips and his skin and hair still damp. And it's not like you can even blame him, because you know that if his plan of luring you towards him with that appearance works, you're sure to be in for a treat. And today it sure does, because you get up without resistance, and when you're standing in front of him, his hands are already resting on your waist, thumbs sneaking underneath your shirt. You run your nails down his upper body, mapping out his toned chest and abs as he leans in to kiss you. It's a feathery light kiss, quite in contrast to his intentions, but the way his lips linger on yours only make you want more. Palms moving all the way back up his torso, you place your hands at the back of his neck to bring him back in just after he parts from you, this time running your tongue across his lips to part them and to deepen the kiss. He lets you take the lead, but only for a bit, because next thing you know he has you pressed against the wall with your hands pinned above your head. Kisses you with such fervour and passion that your head starts to spin and when you break apart you're not only breathless but also devoid of all thought. Already your mind is filled with nothing but him, and so when he lets go of your wrists to pull your shirt off you instead, your hands find their way to his back, feeling his muscles dance underneath the skin with each of his movements. His lips don't hesitate to find yours in another passionate kiss, and when you feel him rolling his hips into yours to tease you, you moan into his mouth, and he does the same when impatience drives you to drag your nails down his broad back.

Mingi:

You didn't mean to interrupt him as he was preparing dinner for the two of you, but as you snuck up to him to give him a playful backhug, one thing just led to another and he turned around to give you a kiss that felt maybe a little too passionate for the situation. So now he has you standing there, starstruck, realizing the effect his unexpected action had on you. And just when he gives you a smile full of adoration, you take a step forward and you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him in for another kiss. When you part this time, one look at each other's face is enough to know that he's not gonna continue cooking anytime soon. And so instead he gently nudges you into a different position with one hand on your waist and the other cupping your face, so he could trap you in between the kitchen counter and his body. His lips find yours again with chaste but curious touches as if he was kissing you for the very first time. But really, it's all just his way of teasing you and of making you want more eventually, and you know it. Still, you can't but enjoy the way he leads your kisses, falling deeper into the push and pull game he's playing with you by always parting from you when he can feel you starting to melt against him. Eventually he helps you sit up atop the kitchen counter, and with your legs wrapped around him to keep him close, you become more demanding in the way you kiss him back. Hands roaming his chest and eventually tearing off his shirt impatiently, you've reached a point where the need to feel his kisses not just on your mouth, but all over your body arises. And you know he feels the same, because his palms are now restlessly searching your figure, eventually finding their way underneath your clothes, and when you feel him finally trailing kisses down the side of your throat you can't help but throw your head back and whisper praises meant to keep him going.

Wooyoung:

You bite your lip as you lay back on his bed and you watch him crawling on top of you. Extending your hand to tangle your fingers in his hair, neither of you wastes a single second to connect your lips to the other's. His kiss already tells you everything - that he wants you and that he's probably been thinking about all the things he's about to do to you the entire day. Still you know he's not one to rush things, especially when it comes to alone time with just you, and that's something you can read in his kiss as well. He moves his lips against yours slowly, but with deliberation in every single touch. He wants you, and he wants to take his time with you to savour every moment spent with you like this. And yet, everything he does to you feels so intense - the way he's now trailing kisses from the corner of his mouth to your jaw, the way his lips brush against your skin, and also the way his hands are slowly sliding down your arms so he could intertwine his fingers with yours. Thumb rubbing soothing circles at the back of one hand, he leaves little nips and curious bites down the side of your throat, and when he finally lures a moan out of you he can't but grin in satisfaction. There's mischief in his eyes as he comes up to have a look at your face, and even in between all of his teasing he won't let it be taken away from him to cup your face lovingly in his palm, brushing his thumb over your cheek now, before he leans back in for another kiss meant solely to rile you up some more.

Jongho:

You rush inside from the unexpected rain hand in hand, hurrying so as to reach your dry apartment soon, yet giggling because somehow the two of you find amusement in the way none of you came prepared for the weather. Without an umbrella at hand, you both became drenched in the sudden rain, and so obviously the first thing to do as you arrive home would be to find a dry set of clothes to change into. Or so you had thought, because as soon as you have taken off your shoes and locked up, he gets a few steps ahead of you, making you halt with his eyes glued to your lips. No thoughts wasted on why he’s stopping you, your body simply responds to the way he gives you merely a gentle push with his hand at the small of your back, and before you know it, your eyes flutter shut and he’s kissing you. You can taste the rain as his lips brush against yours, and when your hands search for something to hold onto, you find his soaked sweater, tugging at the fabric to pull him yet a little closer. You break apart for air eventually, unable to escape the way he’s mustering you from top to bottom, and almost forgetting to breathe under his intense stare. One hand now cupping your face, and the other resting on your hip to give you a gentle squeeze there, he steers you back a few steps until he has you pinned against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours again. Not letting you deepen the kiss just yet, he breaks apart from you too soon, and as he sneaks his thumb underneath your shirt, you can hear him mutter, “You’re gonna catch a cold.” Understanding what he’s hinting at, you let him help you slip out of the piece of clothing, and as soon as it lands on the floor, his hands are back on your sides. He kisses you with more passion now, pulling you in yet a bit closer, and all you can do is match his rhythm as you feel yourself melting against his kiss.

[yourplayersaidwhat]

Shit My Players Say gets a Community!

Most of y'all have probably heard about Tumblr's new Communities feature (if you haven't, read about them here). One of the SMPS mods got access to the Communities beta, and we now have our very own Shit My Players Say Community!

We're excited about this because a Community has one huge advantage over a submissions blog: members can post quotes directly, instead of submitting and then waiting for your quote to make it through the gauntlet of Tumblr bugs and the blog's queue before being posted. You'll get all the same great content without the mod bottleneck!

That said, Communities are still very much in early beta, with all the limitations that implies. This blog - the original Shit My Players Say / yourplayersaidwhat - will continue business as usual. (Or at least, as "business" as our catalog of crazy quotes can be!) So keep those submissions coming for your dash's daily dose of hilarity - then jump over to the Shit My Players Say Community for more!

Community membership & invitation details below the cut:

We'd love to have all y'all become full members immediately, but all Communities are currently invite-only and limited to 500 members. Assuming the beta process goes well and Tumblr eventually opens Communities more widely, the SMPS Community will be public. In the meantime, if you're interested in becoming a beta member, here's how!

We're looking for early members who are highly active on Tumblr, have a steady flow of quotes to post, and enjoy reacting to and commenting on others' quotes. You must follow all Community rules / guidelines, and be able to roll with all the quirks and bugs that come with a beta feature.

If this is you, and you're interested, send us an ask with the message "Community invite request" and your Tumblr blog name!

[kolbietheaggrievedwriter]

jack & ian it's almost two o'clock in the morning! what are you doing here?

This is an AU taking place like one or two years before Ian meets Luke.

-

"It's almost two o'clock in the morning! What are you doing here?"

When filtered through Ian's character settings, it becomes a gruffly disapproving, "It's late." The probing question goes unspoken but not unheard.

Jack doesn't answer immediately, instead crawling the rest of the way through Ian's bedroom window and shutting it behind him. His movements are strangely stiff, and the unmistakable smell of blood follows him inside. Afterward, he simply stands with his back to Ian, gripping the sill like he needs it to steady himself.

Then suddenly, he turns to leer at Ian's naked upper body, which is only barely visible in the light of the moon, like all of that had simply been Ian's imagination. "Look at you. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were hoping I'd drop by, baby." He seems as flirtatious and cavalier as ever, but there's an audible strain in his voice, an underlying pain.

It doesn't take a genius to realize he's injured. But that's no surprise. That's the only reason Ian would allow him to step foot inside his room, to encroach upon his privacy like this when Ian usually keeps the delinquent shit far, far away from his normal student life. This exact scenario has occurred enough times now that Ian can be reasonably sure that it won't threaten that careful balance, but he's still miffed about it.

He stumbled upon Jack severely wounded one time and was stupid enough to help him. He was even more stupid to bring him back to his school dorm, even though the clinic was closed and both his family home and hideout were off limits for obvious reasons. Of course his naive act of kindness opened the fucking floodgates. What else had he expected? It's like Jack's a vampire, and now that he's been invited in, he can come inside any time he damn well pleases.

"Like you could even take me normally," Ian snaps, temper nonexistent due to his sleep being interrupted and his home invaded. A one-two hit combo guaranteed to piss him off. He's really not in the mood for games.

"So harsh! You're really not cute at all." Jack barks a laugh, immediately giving up the ruse and holding a hand to the dark patch of blood staining the side of his shirt in an attempt to stem the flow.

Despite himself, Ian's eyes catch on the injury and linger. The crazy bastard definitely made it worse scaling the side of Ian's building like some shitty cat burglar, but that has nothing to do with him. He's not obligated to do anything except shove this asshole right back out that window and then get some well-deserved shut eye. Which he is absolutely going to do for real this time, right now.

"...Come on," Ian eventually says, annoyed beyond belief - with himself and the smug fucker who keeps taking advantage of him. He stalks out of his bedroom and toward the bathroom where he keeps the first-aid kit without waiting for the smartass remark he knows is coming.

[rk8connorzz]

“The love I feel for you.” Connor X AFAB Reader (Smut!)

Recommended song:

“There you go, that’s good. I’m so proud, I love you so much.” Though many people thought being told “I love you” was a turn off, it definitely wasn’t the case for her. As their bodies connected in a passionate display, he showered her in kisses all over her face. He knew all too well he was bigger than all the others she had— that’s why he was so steady and careful not to hurt her. In his eyes, she was the most beautiful thing ever. Though her wounds left bloodied scars upon her heart, she was able to look past them to share a night of pure love with Connor. The more he speaks, the more she drips. Her pussy was perfect lubricant for his cock, he was able to keep on going without worried she would go dry.

He can feel her squeezing along his length, and it drove him mad. He can read her vitals with just a single palm placed upon her chest. He went deeper inside of her till he eventually bottomed out. “O-Oh, fuck!” She swore under her breath. It was stretching her out barely— a burn that settled in as he let her adjust. “There you go, hun. You’re taking me so good, I’m so proud. I’m gonna make you feel good, okay? Just let me take over. I love you.” He placed another tender kiss on her cheek before leaning her backside onto the bed, his cock remained buried inside her pretty pussy.

Missionary was always something he wanted to try. The intimacy of staring at her while she wriggles underneath him in pure ecstasy. To see her flushed face glaring into his brown eyes. It was something he fantasied about, even before becoming deviant. Though he didn’t want to admit it, he even pleasured himself to the thought of it.

He grabbed her hand and stroked the back of it with his long thumb. He moved his hips again, this time faster. To her, it felt absolutely amazing — more than that— it left her absolutely speechless. Mewls and whines fell from her wet lips as he continued. He looked down at her bare breasts, admiring the view. She closed her legs subconsciously while still letting out loud sounds. Large hands went to her thighs to spread them apart again. “No need to hide. I want to see your pretty pussy take me, darling.” He let out a groan. A knot in his stomach tightened with every passing thrust.

Putting his hand on her belly, the pleasure only heightened for both of them. She swore she could feel it hitting her cervix every time he bottomed out. “There you go, that’s it. I want you to cum on my cock, okay? Let go of your inhibitions.” His words of praise drew her crazy, but held her with comfort. “I… love you s-so much. You feel so- so… ah~… good.” She whispered. She closed her eyes from the impact and eventually felt her orgasm flow upon her, a tsunami of pure ecstasy leaving her wobbly and completely breathless. Her back moved off of the bed and she moaned out Connor’s name, over and over. She knew the neighbors would remember his name as well.

His LED circled yellow, then red, then settled on yellow. Even though she was already tuckered out, he wanted to finish more than anything. He didn’t have her consent to creampie, so as soon as he felt the knot in his stomach snap, he pulled out urgently. He stroked himself through his orgasm and whimpered all through it. Her belly was completely covered in his cum. They were both left a panting mess.

Connor moved down to hold her. “Oh, [Name]. I love you so so much. My good girl. You did amazing. I’ll run us a shower, okay?” Her legs were shaking, and she hoped she would be able to situate herself to walk with him. Instead of having her worry, he picked her up suddenly and held her as if she were his bride. He carried her into the bathroom and put the shower on a nice temperature for her. Connor went into the shower with her still in his arms— until he set her down. She held onto his arm the whole shower. It was filled with praise and kisses, the usual. But this time was so much more meaningful than the others.

He washed off the cum that was drying on her belly. Then, Connor grabbed a loofa and began scrubbing her with her favorite body wash. As soon as they were both squeaky clean, they stepped out and turned off the shower. They both dried off with a towel and shared a long hug. Connor leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You did absolutely amazing. Thank you for being my love. My beautiful, beautiful princess.”

She did her nightly routine with the help of Connor. Skincare, brushing of hair and fluffing it up, then getting changed into comfy clothes. She chose a black, oversized sweater and panties to bed. Connor had pajama pants and a Knights of the Black Death t-shirt on. They went back onto the bed and slid under the comforter. They were completely tuckered out. Connor held her close to his chest and played with her hair until she eventually fell asleep, her soft breathing filling the quiet room. He muttered one last “I love you” before falling asleep— cuddled close to the one he loved most.

[oneforthemunny]

that photo you reblogged of wayne, eddie and vega is so funny

do you think when she first started exhibiting her wildness eddie went to wayne and was like ? help ? and wayne was like ! thats what you were like !

so when kensie was little (I know the ask is about vega but I promise it makes sense lol) she’s like extremely emotional all the time. stage five clinger, separation anxiety to the max, and she’s just got a lot of big emotions and big feelings. she cries at everything.

neither one of you really know what to do, but you’re a little bit more understanding. maybe it’s more so because it’s maternal instincts and she’s clinging to you all the time so it’s easier for you to be understanding and soft with her, but eddie starts to get frustrated. he’s a new parent, relatively, and he’s not a perfect parent by any means, and it’s hard being a parent. especially when he can’t understand why she’s crying so much.

wayne’s out visiting, because he always is, and kensie starts crying over something or another, something eddie thinks is just absurd and he kinda gets huffy with her for all of .5 seconds before wayne’s about to slap him upside the head.

he takes kensington, and is really gentle and calm, talks to her sweetly and she calms down. eddie’s like ??? how did you do that. “you gotta listen to her, boy. don’t try to rationalize s’much. listen.”

“but she loses her shit over the smallest things that are no big deal-“

“to you.” wayne narrows his eyes at him. “they’re not a big deal, to you. you know better, understand more because you can. she’s a baby still, ed. she doesn’t understand everything and some things are new and upsetting, and that’s ok. you were the same way… ‘til your daddy got tired of it.”

that sends eddie over the edge and from then on, he tries to listen instead of getting frustrated or rationalizing. wayne’s got this very calm, steady energy (zarah inherited it). like he’s very go with the flow, but also knowledgeable, and he helps eddie a lot as a parent.

from then on, eddie goes to wayne all the time. befkre, he wouldn’t do it as much because he felt like a ‘bad parent’ but really, it was helpful to everyone.

then along came miss vega jo. she’s a whoopsie. wayne’s older and she’s unlike any of the other girls, including the twins. she’s fucking insane. literally unhinged from baby times. you think it’s because of the age gap with her sisters, that she grew up around them, but whatever it is, she’s crazy.

eddie’s like whatever I can handle her, but she’s on another level. like she’s a bad ass kid when she’s little lmao. like very bad and he’s kinda like??? what do I do when she’s this insane??? and she’s sweet, but she’s just high energy all the time… with him lol. she like lives to torment eddie bc she thinks it’s hilarious.

then with you she’s a terror but she’s sweet, and with wayne she’s a different child entirely. calm and sweet and gentle.

eddie really is like how the fuck do you know how to do this?? and wayne is like??? she’s you.

“I was never that bad, wayne, my dad would’ve beat me.”

“boy, you were worse. you used to talk and talk and run and get into anything and everything. you never sat down- you still don’t!”

and eddie’s pouty like it isn’t true but… it is. and really, vega thrives off reaction. so when she does something chaotic and eddie has a naturally dramatic reaction, like he always does, that just fuels her fire. plus, he’s got chaos just radiating off of him naturally.

wayne tells him just to calm down. be calm with her, let yourself be relaxed, and she’ll match that. sure enough, she’s less of a terror when he does. she will talk through the entire movie, but she stays sitting next to eddie, asking a million questions that he answers calmly to keep her attention.

wayne is a wizard with kids and eddie’s thankful for him <3

[lady-assnali]

SOME sentences Sunday…SEVERAL sentences Sunday…you get the idea.

Have this baby model Crygi that wrote itself yesterday for my dear @thecollectionsof bc I’ve been really holding out on the Crygi lately and I can only say soon or one day so many times before I feel guilty for abandoning my children

———

Crystal shifts her weight between her feet as she stands in line, an exuberant smile on her face. She clutches a magazine close to her chest, occasionally glancing down at it. But she can’t look long, or she’ll lose it right here in the line at this local bookshop between the woman with five beach reads and the young mother and her child balancing stacks of Pete the Cat books in their hands. Instead, she concentrates her energy on living in the moment; the shop smells like robust coffee beans and the undeniable fragrance of books. The playlist is folksy and she recognizes the Noah Kahan song playing because Gigi had been singing it all summer after they’d taken a coastal weekend away just a month before. The trip had been a surprise, and they’d spent an entire day driving up and down the gorgeous, ritzy coastline of Massachusetts listening to lyrics about how everything’s alright when she calls me back. It couldn’t be more true.

Right now, Gigi’s in a timezone five hours ahead of her filming content for a brand Crystal has never heard of but Gigi absolutely idolizes. She’s been working like crazy, but the constant flow of it all has really helped her boost her name. She offhandedly mentions more than once that Crystal can even quit her just in case job now that Gigi has a steady following, but she hasn’t been able to do that yet. She doesn’t want Gigi to think she’s using her for her newfound money (even though they still bulk shop at Costco and get the cheap takeaway they like on Friday nights Gigi is home).

She gets to the front of the line and reluctantly lets go of the magazine, only long enough to let the cashier scan it.

“I don’t need a bag.” She waves her reusable tote in the air, but the magazine just goes right back into her hands. She holds the cover up for the cashier to see and in a loud, giddy voice she announces “This is my girlfriend.”

Gigi’s the front cover of Vogue, an idea she’d held on to since the start of her accidental modeling career and hadn’t stopped thinking about since. She’d told Crystal the moment she’d found out, sobbing on the phone in the middle of LAX. Crystal had met her at JFK with a bouquet of flowers and a sign that read Vogue cover model Gigi Goode.

Now, she gets to hold the magazine in her hand. Everything her girlfriend has worked so hard for in one binding of glossy papers. Well, two-Crystal’s bought one to keep and the other to cut apart so she can carefully frame the actual cover.

She’s absolutely mooning over the photo; Gigi, clad in a beautiful champagne colored dress that she’d made herself from something she’d gotten off the rack. She’d shortened it, added boning, and restructured the entire thing to turn it from Little House on the Prairie to Real Housewives (or something like that; Crystal’s still workshopping the joke). In the cover photograph the old dress hangs in the background like a ghost. The headline? Farewell, Fast Fashion.

“She made this dress.” Crystal points to the photo, turns around so the woman with the romance novels can see the cover too. “She’s so talented, and just the most beautiful soul you’ll ever meet. And this is just…it’s a lifetime of hard work.”

Crystal’s so close to crying now that she has to peel one hand away from her magazines to wipe at the corner of her eye, but she’s not embarrassed. She can’t feel anything but proud.

On her way out (after stopping to show a few other patrons of the book shop, pointing them to where they keep their magazines) she calls Gigi, who picks up on the first ring.

“My brilliant, talented, beautiful girlfriend, I have a copy of Vogue in my hands as we speak.”

On the other side of the phone, Gigi squeals.

“I haven’t seen it in person yet!” Crystal imagines her jumping up and down, her loose curls bouncing and her smile absolutely illuminating the room.

“I’ll send you a picture. It’s incredible, Geege. You look gorgeous. And I might’ve told everyone in the store that you were my girlfriend because I still can’t believe it.”

“Believe it, Crys. You’re stuck with me for life.”

They speak a little bit longer, Gigi reeling as the photos Crystal scoots over on the sidewalk to take of the magazine come through. It’s even better than she imagined, and she’s dying to see it in person.

“Two days!” She cheers. “One sleep! And then I’ll be home for weeks and we can cuddle and lay around and I can use my fancy Vogue money to take my girlfriend somewhere with the best dessert in the city.”

“Where’s that?”

Gigi laughs.

“I don’t know! But we’ll have two whole weeks to find it!”

[definitively-different-drivel]

WIP Wednesday

I considered putting in part of the fic I plan to post tonight, but it's heavy shit and I didn't get a response when I posted my last snippet from it, so I don't think it'll land right. Instead, I recently started on a story idea I've been chewing over for a year or more. Probably closer to two, to be honest. I have a couple scenes written, here's the first! No-pressure tags, can also be cited for next week if you want: @tkwritesdumbassassins @forceofcalm @whimsicalmeerkat @dear-massacre Premise of the fic I'm currently calling Dystopic Dreams: Stiles barely manages to take out one last final threat, but every single person in town dies in the process, prompting him to try an impossible spell to 'fix everything' that lands him in a utopic version of his home town. The trouble is, he doesn't exist here, and why do the people dream and remember the dystopic town he left behind? Did his magic sully it? Did his wish break this idyllic reflection of his own world, or is there something more going on?

Stiles staggered through the woods, Deaton leaning heavily against his side. His magic flowed through the forest as it burned. Trees thrashed as they fought against the beings whose knives slid into the bark just the same as it had with flesh, igniting them, burning life force and magic all at together as one by one, branches and trunks lit by flames from within cracked into ash. Derek stalked to the left, to the right, sliding through the ash-filled air, teeth bared. Another step. A clash, to the left. He thought of his Dad, of Scott, of watching a scream burning Lydia from within, of glowing flesh, thoughts flashed through his mind. Another step. He saw the clearing looming ahead, oozing darkness. More steps. Deaton wheezed against him, caught in some dead-weight trance as the foul magic tying him to human form tore at their backs. Stiles worked his way forward, foot by foot. His magic burned through the hearts of the trees, twisting them to block the knives in the dark. He pushed away thoughts, fears about of Derek. They were the only ones left. They would make it. He moved inch by agonizing inch, with only his magic and Derek at his back, holding off the burning death, bound and tied, compelled to keep the tree from repair. Deaton grew heavier in his arms. The stump loomed before his feet, just a few- Bone-cracking weight slammed against him, against both of them, knocking them onto the jagged wood. Derek's roar echoed through the trees, cracking splinters, shredding branches to dust by sound alone. Derek had pushed them out of the way of harm, onto the stump. Into position for the ritual. Right, the ritual. Stiles' heart pounded in his chest; he pulled out that box, that cursed fucking nemeton box, long-since divested of void. Gasoline soaked the wood as it sat on Deaton's chest, pooling in the heart of the cask, leaking into every crack and crevasse etched into the grain. Shaking hands spilled it on the stump. Part of him, a crazy, incomprehensible part of him didn't understand the fact that none of it mattered anymore; he panicked at the way the liquid seeped through the jagged bits of wood thrust up into the evening air, the way it splashed on their clothes, the way a match would set them both to burn. It didn't matter. It didn't fucking matter, he'd burn if he had to, he needed it done. The match lit on the first try. He dropped it, swift and steady, caught in a strange composure cloaking him as he spoke the spell. Fire poured through the box, flowed through the clothes beneath it, shredding them in a shower of ash. Deaton's skin dissolved in the glow as Stiles scrambled back, away, off, barely outpacing the fire as he fell in a tangled heap of limbs beside the nematon. It flared to life, branches spreading across the ash-tainted air, up, and out, and up, and out, an endless repeating web of leaves tracing its way through the sky.

The faint crack of fading fire filled the air as the great tree reached through roots, coiling up trunks, weaving its will through the air as it quelled the flames.

"It's done?"

Derek's voice scattered his strange adrenaline-fueled thoughts.

It hit him, a tangible weight in his chest. They did it. He sat up and laughed, shaking the dirt from his hair, heart tight in his chest as he carefully didn't think of the terrible cost.

They did it.

He grinned, warm and wide. "Did you see? Dude! We did it, Derek-" The smile slipped from his face. Derek slid along the bark of the tree to kneel beside him, so close, so fucking close, close enough to smell his breath.

His breath was ash. "No no no, Derek-"

A relieved smile cracked through the pain in Derek's face. "You did it," he said, as his fever-hot forehead rested against Stiles. "It's done."

The fear in Stiles' chest boiled beneath a sea of rage. He was a spark, right? With the whole belief made manifest bullshit. This could not be the end. He'd lost- he couldn't lose- he wouldn't lose Derek too.

He refused.

He adamantly, totally, with every fiber of his being, rejected this outcome. The magic in his bones roared in agreement. This was bullshit.

Derek's glassy eyes watched Stiles mouth as his breathing grew ragged. Stiles was speaking, voicing his outrage. He hadn't even noticed. Derek was holding on, had to hold on just a little more. He stared as if the magic coursing through Stiles' words were the only thing tethering him to his body as it burned from within. "I will fix this, I will. I'll fix everything, you hear me?" he set his teeth, feeling the terrible, warping, aching weight of magic flowing through him, singing in his blood, pouring into his words. He knew it was pointless, futile. Too late.

He couldn't save his dad, his brother, his friends, his pack. Well, that never fucking stopped from trying him before. Fuck it, he'd do this or die trying.

"You'll see. Everything." He took Derek's searing hot face in his hands, focusing on Derek's eyes, willing his magic to do the impossible. "I'll fix it. Everything. Your family, Erica's seizures, Scott, Allison. Chris. Fuck, I'll neuter Gerard and prevent Monroe, stop the Dread Doctors, fix Deucalion before he goes dark side and save my mom and, and Peter, and Malia-" he thought of his family, his pack, of every hell-mouth monstrosity, every tragedy wrought since the top of the tree was imprisoned in the form of a man, hands tied as the town circled a sink-hole into the abyss.

"I'll fix it. Everything." his breath caught in his throat. He didn't notice how the fractal-leaf force of the tree's magic wound through his own.

Derek coughed up coals.

They burned through Stiles' jeans, unheeded. Derek would live, damnit. He couldn't listen to the shallow breaths, couldn't think of the way Derek leaned, ever more heavy until suddenly he wasn't, weight draining off as the liquid in his blood burned away.

Stiles closed his eyes, still muttering inane, inane, idiotic promises as Derek burned to ash in his arms, because it wouldn't end here.

It couldn't end here. He didn't have anything else, damnit.

Memories of ash-scattered floors in hospitals and gas stations, on playgrounds and bars, in the fucking grocery store, piles of singed clothing flickered through his mind, scenes from a town lost beneath the nameless thing they unleashed by figuring out what really happened to the nemeton, summoning horrors in response.

This wasn't- He wasn't supposed to be left alone.

The spell became its own thing, a living, breathing, billowing lattice of impossibility that would break with a moment's distraction, that would shatter to pieces once it drained him to death in the weaving.

Well, he never wanted to survive alone. He wouldn't survive, not for long, but an impossible wish for a better world seemed a fitting way to spend his final moments. Lost in the casting, he missed the way the last of Derek's solid weight fell to ash in his arms, missed the way the great tree swayed, missed the way his last-ditch suicidal despair poured the last of himself into a spell he gaslit himself into trusting.

He poured magic enough to die from, magic enough to incinerate him from the inside out, every last ounce of his soul poured into a spell that was too insane to hope for as he lost himself in thoughts of the world he wanted to make.

Because fuck it.

What did he have left to lose?

[shmorp-mcdurgen]

Jonah couldn't help but grin slightly as his strings were harshly pulled, Mark glaring at him in pure fury and despair. Good. “Why… WHY?!”

His smile simply widened, choked laughs coming from his throat in a cackling stream of agony and madness. It hurt like all hell but Jonah didn’t fucking care. Why should he care? There was nothing for him to care about anymore!

Mark flinched back at the display, keeping the puppet in place as he turned to see Dave and Adam of all alternates watching and listening with disturbed expressions. Looking further around, the alternate felt slightly sick as the number of bodies the puppet had made drop rose in his head.

Millions of people, millions of children, dead.

In a swift motion, the strings around Jonah’s wrists were cut, his laughter cutting off as his body was held up just by the neck. Still, breathless giggles flowed through the air, along with choked words. 

“....why..n…. not…?!” Jonah wheezed with insane amusement, tears mixed with blood running from his eyes in a steady stream.

“...Mark..” Dave spoke, and Mark turned to look at him, nodding for him to go on. “...I.. you might… have to…”

“Put him down like a feral dog?” Adam interrupted, face settling back into its usual smile, though it was still obvious he wasn’t exactly comfortable. “Normally I’d ask for that to not happen buuuuuut…”

“If I let him live… he’ll just kill the humans that are left…” Mark finished for him, eye narrowing as Jonah wheezed with laughter again.

The blond nodded, giving the puppet a glance before shuffling on his hands and feet. “Look, I like fucking with him, truly I do, but he’s gonna get rid of the most fun prey! Now I’ll need to find a human as fun as Seth was and who knows how loooooooong that’ll take…” 

Both Dave and Mark huffed at the alternates whining, but Dave nodded afterwards. “He and Gabriel talked sometimes, even seemed to become friends of a sort… For him to just.. Kill them without any hesitation…”

Even though he hated being on the same side of Adam, Mark knew they made their point, and agreed with it. Jonah needed to go.

Moving towards the still giggling puppet, the teenager reached out his hand and snapped the tethers connecting Jonah to life, watching as the body dropped to the ground after the strings disintegrated. 

The three alternates simply stood there for a bit, before they all silently began to leave in their respective directions, leaving the body to rot in the open, like he’d done with so many others in his insanity-fueled massacre.

For once, Mandela wasn't filled with the desperate screams of people begging for life. No, instead, there was nothing but,

Cold.

Dead.

Silence.

[can't believe jonah killed 90% of humans that's crazy-]

OHHHH SHIT /lh

Ohhhhh fuck, Jonah got. A bit silly-

[magnaswingwritings]

Black Bulls Month 2023 Prompt 7 : Trust

Magna's POV:

"I'm not too sure about this." Lilah eyed the broom in front of her with uncertainty. Today Luck and I decided it's time she learned how to fly on her own. The broom we bought her for her grimoire acceptance ceremony hasn't been used yet and it would be a waste to just leave it on the ground.

"Oh don't be a baby Lilah this will be so much fun!" Luck chimed, already floating a few feet off the ground on his own standard broom.

"It will be fine. Luck and I will be nearby to help. We won't let you get hurt."

"You make it sound like I'm destined to fall off this thing." She grumbled. The slight pout forming on her face made Luck laugh. I had to fight to keep my own lips from curling.

"Everyone falls for the first time. But that's usually the thin standard broom. Yours is wider with cushion. You should be fine in terms of balance. It's more learning to control it. It takes a bit more precise magic to move it accurately."

The broom was very similar to my own Crazy Cyclone. It was purple though instead of red. Luck thought she was going to give me a hard time for the design. But she loved it.

Problem was she's afraid to fly it.

"What if I do fall off it?"

"Then we catch ya! A real man wouldn't let you fall without any backup."

"He's right Lilah! We'll catch you!" Luck's smile curled ear to ear. Like the cat who's been busted for something.

"Okay umm let's do this then." She straddled the broom and carefully began to flow her magic in. I could feel the cool energy that came with her mana. Like fresh snow falling. It wasn't long before she floated off the ground just enough for her feet to no longer touch the ground. "You sure you guys can catch me if I drop this thing?" Her hazel eyes glowed a bit due to the angle of the sunlight.

"Of course. You trust us don't ya?" I quipped back as I finally flowed my own magic into the Crazy Cyclone to match her height off the ground. Luck circled a few feet above her head. Occasionally teasing the poor girl for not going high enough.

Finally, she let out an exhale, "I trust you Mags. Okay let's do this." Her magic still steady as she floated higher off the ground. I stayed slightly below her just in case she lost her balance. Eventually we made it several feet above the treeline. Luck floated beside her, standing on his own broom, encouraging her to try the same.

"Hey!" I shouted from my position below them, "Let her get used to flying seated first! We haven't even moved yet!"

"You're just saying that because you don't like standing on the Crazy Cyclone."

"That's because you keep knocking me off balance!" The crazy mage would zap me off my broom. He always caught me before I made impact with the dirt but not before scaring the hell out of me first.

"You worry too much! Get up here and fly with us!" He chirped happily.

We flew slowly around the forest area close to the hideout for a while. Using the time to let her get used to flying, correcting her technique as necessary. Luck would occasionally encourage some type of chaos in good fun of course.

Until it was time to get serious.

I noticed the way the front of her broom was shaking. By itself it wouldn't be that big of a deal. It was the look of sweat and exertion she was exhibiting.

"Hey.." I floated until I was level with her left side. Our knees barely touched. "You wanna take a break? We've been up here a long time."

Wrong decision. I must have broken her concentration because the entire broom was shaking now. Quickly a grabbed hold of the handlebar closest to me and flowed a bit of my own mana into the broom to stop the shaking. My fingertips felt like ice touching the frost mages broom. I look over to Luck and nod. This isn't the first time we've given lessons and we know what to do in this situation. The lightning mage nodded back and flew out of my line of sight.

"Okay I think it's time we descend. Do you think you can do that?"

She was clearly anxious but nodded anyway.

"Okay keep your mana as steady as you can. When you're ready, slowly lower the amount of mana you're inputting into the brooo-!"

She lowered her mana too fast. The backend of the broom dropped from under her. The front end was upright barely from my own strained mana input. She was dangling from the handlebars. I lowered the Crazy Cyclone. While trying to keep her broom in the same spot. "Lilah can you hop onto the Crazy Cyclone?"

"What about-"

"Don't worry about the broom. Just hop on!"

I could see one of her hands starting to slip. She wasn't gonna make it on in time.

"LUCK!" I called out.

"I got it!" I looked down and he was a few feet below her.

"Okay new plan! Let go of the bars!"

"Are you insane!?" She screamed while trying to adjust her grip.

"You gotta trust me! Just let go!"

She scanned my face briefly. "I trust you." Was barely a whisper before she let go. Her following screams drowning the prior sentence out. Luck caught her in his arms and with that her screams cut off. There was a brief moment of silence as we all floated in place before their laughter was the only sound that could be heard. I exhaled a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

Eventually we all made it to the ground okay.

"That was fun! When can we do it again?" Luck was already zipping around us like nothing happened.

"No way, battle freak. Give us a break before we go back up." I quipped back before facing Lilah, "Are you okay?"

She looked thoughtful, "I'm fine Magna. The scare aside I had a lot of fun. Thank you."

All in all it was a good day for the three of us.

[rimii-iii]

perfectionist, not. sae itoshi

chapter five - perfectly.

"hm. i guess you better confess, he'll be lucky to have you."

i couldn't sleep, i rolled around, seeing the redhead was already fast asleep. i suddenly felt a hand around my waist, while i let out a silent yelp. but of course, i wasn't dreaming, my face landed on a chest, his heart beat steady. 

his scent invaded my nostrils, somehow making me sleepy. my eyelids dropped, the night seemed less stressful.

゜

i actually should confess, shouldn't i? when we go back to Spain, we'll be more busy and we won't be seeing each other as much as now.

i'm actually gonna do it, no? i can do it! i got this!

you think i'm actually gonna do it? nope 😂

jkjkjkjkjkjkjkjk.

unlike him, i'm not a perfectionist, i don't have any flowers or blah blah blah to give him, all i have to do is to give him my words.

i'm rather a perfectionist, not. 

it's gonna be a starry night, two lovers- no... two workers sitting on top of a mountain, watching the fireworks even though it's not July.

people say, being delulu is always the solulu, no?

oh stop it, the faster this is done, the faster you'll know his answer. "are you gonna confess soon? to your crush-"

"he's my lover!" i argued, pouting. "yeah yeah whatever." he rolled his eyes, "oh by the way, meet me at the top of the mountain tonight! let's go stargazing!" i smiled, grabbing my over shoulder bag. 

he thought for a second, staring at the floor, "okay." he agreed, and headed towards the hotel door. "see you tonight, then." he looked back when i hummed in response, stealing one more pretty stare before he leaves.

"make sure to confess soon~" he teased, a smirk curving up his lips, "shut up!" i flustered, stomping away. 

゜

23:57... October 9th.

today was the day i was gonna confess, after meeting him for a few days, crazy right? i was wearing a black hoodie to keep myself warm, steam coming out of my mouth as i breathed when i walked up the stairs. 

i made it to the top, seeing Sae who was standing, wind kissing his messy hair and his button down shirt, his black jacket flowing against the air. "hey." his voice was low, his turquoise orbs shining in the night. 

"you sparkle... a lot." he said when i sat down, tilting my head in confusion, "what do you mean?" 

"you stand out." he muttered, quiet enough just for me to hear, my ears flushed, as he sat down next to me.

"did you confess yet?" he questioned, staring at the slightly dimmed city view, i shook my head, "nope."

"that sucks." he commented while i stared at him, oh, i couldn't take my eyes off him now. he turned his face towards my direction, lost in my hues. 

he suddenly placed a smirk on his soft lips, thinking of something devilish? 

"hurry up and fall in love with me instead of that boy of yours, stupid." 

"i already did." 

that... slipped out of my mouth too fast, his eyebrows noticeably shot up, "the boy of mines i fell in love was, you, Itoshi Sae." 

he chuckled, "really?" i hummed as he leaned closer, "you want my answer?" he asked, our noses touching.

"yeah." even if he didn't like me, it's fine, at least i already confessed, life goal completed unless i fall in love with someone else. 

he gently grabbed me by the chin, tilting his head, his irises were on my lips. he was a perfectionist, and i was merely just a klutz.

yet, we fell in love together. 

oh, two exact opposites. everything about them are right the opposite, except their lips.

they fit perfectly together.

that was something perfect we could both do.

00:00... October 10th.

-------------------------

a/n: check sae's bd 🫣

[just-a-tiny-goldfish]

Accidents Happen

“Ándale Orellia, no seas así-let me help you” the frustration is dripping from her words urgent in tone, but fuck if your anxiety hasn’t peaked high enough for it to slide right off.

You struggle against gravity trying to get your legs to work properly, feels like pins and needles and a whole bunch of jello, shaky hands grabbing at heated jagged metal, trying to stabilize and failing, are of no help to you.

You feel your mouth turn down to a scowl, you’ve already told her to get lost, go act like the marshal she is and help the civilians in the area-there has to be people around here that need it more than you, try as you both did to keep damage to a minimum you know psychopather is exactly known for being the most graceful of villains.

Or contained.

You feel her hands on you upper arm before you see them, the strength you couldn’t muster to pull yourself up finally shows itself as you yank yourself out of her grip- or at least try to.

Instead all you end up doing is hurting your stupid leg some more. The blood hasn’t stopped flowing and your harsh movement definitely didn’t help, you feel a fresh warmth gush down your thigh and you would have doubled over had it not been for Julia’s grip. You’ve never been more grateful for that stupid black and teal mask as it soaks up the fresh tears that otherwise would have streamed down your face, pain gate or not, this shit hurts.

You take in a shaky breath, want to tell her to fuck off again but if you speak now you know your voice will break, it’s hard enough to keep back the choked grunts of pain. Normally you wouldn’t mind the marshals assistance. You’ve both been on the receiving end of a shot gone wrong, a plan going awry.

Usually though you don’t have to deal with the horrible thought that those cameras might have caught more than you’re willing to throw at them.

Lean on me I’ll lean on you, hand in hand pull me up and I’ll hold on, head to shoulder-arm around a strong bicep or full modded body weight on your back; cameras have caught you two in many positions. All easily explained. You’re a helping hand, a tag along, of course the marshal would do her best to look after you. She’s the marshal. Of course out of the rest of the rangers she would be the first to check up on you- make sure you can walk it off. She’s the leader, has to look out for not just her team but anyone that might be too close- and you just happen to be too damn close too many times.

But you can’t really find a good way to explain this away.

Sure, the marshals known for kissing and telling but this is different. You’re not one of her little conquest- another notch in her belt. You’re her fucking team mate- and not only that but isn’t the media going to go crazy for this? Marshal Charge bending rules for stray vigilante, potential ranger? Or potential partner?

God not to mention you’re no boy. You might not know much of how this world works but from what you’ve gathered girls don’t go around kissing other girls, but if they do people sure like to make a fuss.

Fuck, you really don’t need a fuss. You know they’ll wanna talk- Marshal Charge is already a hot topic, her love life even hotter.

Did anyone get a picture? When did the paparazzi get here? From your peripheral you can see the people inching closer, phones at the ready-vulchers.

What was she thinking? Pulling your mask up like that?

Barely over your nose-but who knows how much needs to be seen in order to be found?

As soon as your mind had caught up with what had happened- hand behind your head the other on your back, both strong and steady as she helped pull you up, light headed, blood loss and shock, you were so scared, you know she saw the shiny streaks on your cheek as she pulled up your mask, saw how it smudged and mixed with the red stream from your nose, it didn’t look pretty it wasn’t pretty and yet, she still leaned in, and fuck that’s why charge- Julia was so wanted, how could she not be, who could forget her after having one taste? Did you kiss her back? You can’t remember, nothing really mattery but her in that moment- until it didn’t. Your mind caught up. You’d all but thrown yourself away from her with how hard you had flinched to get away-gotta hide-they’re gunna see, was the only thing going through your mind.

Did anyone take a picture?

All this just re-fuels your struggle. She won’t let go- and you need to make sure no one took a picture. Bite at your lip hard enough to bleed, can’t tell it apart from the rest of the blood on your face anyways, you’re sure the mask can soak up a little more- focus on the lesser pain of a bitten lip instead of how it burns to lift your leg, focus on that instead of your blurry vision that may not just be from tears but perhaps the growing migraine that’s pounding in your ears, you can hear cámaras going off in the distance.

Fuck fuck fuck

Too worried- scared, you can hardly take in a breath, confusing as it is because you feel your lungs working overdrive, pants short and fast coming out of your mouth. You taste the dust and ash, feel it coat your throat, after fire, smoke. Lungs on fire, puta madre, why can’t you-

“Breath”

Her voice cuts through you. You look up at her, brown eyes open wide, dark enough black hole, you don’t hear or see anything but her. Don’t even feel how tight her grip has gotten on your arms either.

Her words are kept stead in a forceful way, you can tell by the way her lips move, how they wish to tremble, “Orellia, perdóname” quiet, her tongue peaks out licks at her lips, moist with blood, you tasted the iron, yours or hers? you don’t know.

“Look, calm down, it’s okay; now respira” and god that Marshal tone comes through as she speaks, and it does all but calm you down- how dare she, had her gaze not broken from yours, to sweep over the forming crowd, she would have seen the way your eyes narrowed at her-

“Hija de puta quítate!” Enough is enough, you’ve definitely stayed around too long if she thinks she can start using that tone with you. You’re not part of her little team and she can stop pretending. You're not about to start taking orders from someone as incompetent as her. Or anyone for that matter.

Instead of doing as you’ve said, she obviously does the complete opposite. You swear she’s never had to follow an order in her life. What a luxury. Her hands at your arms slide down to your own, her grip steel giving no leeway. Strong hands holding your own, you struggle, yank and shake but she doesn’t let go. You would blame it on the blood loss but even on a good day you know it’s those stupid mods that give her the upper hand. Finally you settle for digging your nails into her hands instead- she doesn’t wanna let go of you huh? Well you’ll make sure she can’t then.

Her grip doesn’t loosen.

“I-“ lips move but no sound comes out “I didn’t mean to do that- it was an accident, I was- I was worried okay?” Tremble finally caught up, her words have turned shaky. “It was the adrenaline, I-I just-just” her words are coming too fast and tripping with nervous energy “cuando te oír gritar-me espanté okay? Eso fue todo- te lo prometo” that black stare is sucking out all the light.

It was an accident.

It was an accident- well yeah that makes sense is the first thing that comes to your mind. Of course that makes sense. It didn’t feel like one is the second thing that comes to your mind- your stomach feels like it’s given away, dropped. Why would it have been anything else? You're not exactly her type- you're not tall or handsome or pretty, a wicked little voice whispers, not like her. You don’t have money to buy her pretty and expensive things like so many of her admirers do. So yeah, it makes sense. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

But it still hurt to hear her say it. The glare you have trained on her does not leave, like she could notice with the mask on-but you do feel the hot anger drain from you, dragging behind it your earlier panic at lucky paparazzi, leaving you cold.

It was an accident.

“It was an accident” you repeat after her.

“Yes” it’s strained and whispered but there’s a relieved smile growing on her face. “I’m so so sorry”

You turn away from her, no longer glaring, you find yourself staring at your thigh. Your bloody aching thigh. It seems to have stopped gushing at least. Must have finally clotted.

Your gaze shifts to your entwined hands when you feel her hand gently squeeze your own, you see where your nails have left half moon divots in her flesh, small red dots sprawled unevenly.

You feel bad.

Another gently squeeze from her “I will never ever do that again- I just wasn’t thinking”

“I didn’t know you could” it’s an instant reply that has her releasing your hands as well as a startled relieved laugh.

“Okay,-“ cut off by another laugh, longer than her last looking at her you can see how the tension that previously rocked seems to evaporate, bringing a hand up to her eyes she rubs at them, stray tears being wiped away leaving streaks of bronze.

“God Orellia, you really scared me there”

What can you do but grin? More for your benefit than hers. She just ripped your heart out- what can you do but grin?

[chefblackychan]

He entered the bedroom late at night while she slept. It was a comfortable spring evening, allowing her to leave the windows open through the night, the sounds of spring peepers in the cool air. He could see her clearly as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him; his heart raced with excitement over what he had planned for this evening's activities. She lay on the bed naked; the covers pushed off her from obvious overheating while she slept. Her breasts were small and perky, topped by puffy brown nipples that stood prominently against tan skin. The rest of her body was well-proportioned but curvaceous. Even though she wasn't tall – only five feet two inches - something about her figure made it seem taller. She had long brown hair which hung down to just below her shoulders. A single strand fell across her face. He reached out quickly, snatching away the wayward hair before it tickled her to consciousness. His eyes roamed appreciatively up and down her body as he pulled back the sheets further from her.

"I love your breasts," he whispered, running his hands along them. They were responsive under his touch, hardening slightly when brushed lightly around their circumference, then softening again once released. "They're so big...and full." He continued caressing her breast, slowly moving towards its apex. As he drew nearer to the nipple itself, it stiffened even more. After several moments of gentle teasing, one hand found purchase there, squeezing firmly yet gently.

His fingers worked their way, feeling the skin's smoothness underneath, occasionally brushing past the tight bud of flesh between her legs. He gingerly parted her thighs and quietly climbed between them. Soon enough, his finger brushed against her clit, causing an involuntary shudder to pass through her entire body. With a sigh of satisfaction, he pressed harder, eliciting another small moan deep within her throat. He circled his fingertip over the sensitive area this time, finding her reaction growing stronger every second. Finally, he applied pressure directly onto the engorged nub beneath, rubbing it softly, building anticipation inside her body. He looked at her to ensure she had not woken to his touch. Satisfied that she was sleeping soundly, he leaned forward and placed his lips on her vulva.

Her hips bucked reflexively upward, pushing her pussy against his mouth, subconsciously seeking stimulation. His tongue flicked out briefly, licking her clit in quick circles, making her squirm, pressing deeper into his face. After a moment, he stopped playing with her cunt and instead began kissing the insides of her thighs. He worked upwards until, eventually, his kisses reached the top of her slit. This was where he knew he would find the most pleasure tonight; the delicate folds of tissue surrounding her hole. Kissing them softly, he slid his tongue along the length of each fold, savoring the taste of her arousal. When he felt her juices begin to flow freely, he turned his attention to the source. Licking her wet opening, he teased it with his tongue, alternating between light strokes and short licks. Eventually, he took hold of her swollen clit in his teeth, pulling it lightly toward him, forcing it to stand erect, begging for his attention. He alternated sucking on her clit and rolling it in his mouth, all the while keeping the tip of his tongue stroking its underside rapidly.

She cried out suddenly, arching her back sharply, thrusting her pelvis upward, and trying to push her crotch into his face. He held himself steady, knowing exactly how much pain she could take without waking. Within seconds, she relaxed again, breathing deeply and letting loose a low moan. Her hips moved rhythmically, grinding herself against his mouth. He sucked vigorously on her clit, using his lips to pull it farther from its resting place and driving his tongue relentlessly against it. At first, he thought he might be able to drive her completely crazy before she woke, but he soon realized that wouldn't happen. Instead, he concentrated solely on giving her the best possible orgasm she could have during her sleep.

After some minutes, her moans became stronger and more frequent, and he sensed her beginning to lose control. He wanted her to cum hard. So, he increased his efforts, taking his time to draw forth her orgasm. Her cries grew louder, higher pitched, and her movements quicker. Soon, she thrashed wildly on the bed as he continued to suckle her clit, pumping his tongue repeatedly against it, never relenting in his assault. She screamed loudly, her whole body tensed and shaking uncontrollably as she came hard. Then, almost instantly, it ended.

He kept up his ministrations for several more minutes, waiting patiently for her to regain her senses. Once she seemed ready, he let go of her throbbing nub and rolled beside her. Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck, holding him tightly to her chest. He kissed her passionately, tasting her sweet flavor and stroking her back and bottom. Their bodies fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces. He ran his hands down her sides, cupping her ass cheeks and lifting them up, bringing her flush against his body. She sighed happily, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

Finally, she broke free of his embrace and sat up straight on the edge of the bed. Looking at him curiously, she asked, "What did you do to me?"

"Nothing special," he replied casually, looking at her with amusement. "I came over famished."

She blushed furiously, covering her face with her hands. He laughed aloud at her embarrassment and playfully slapped her buttock, causing her to yelp. Laughing again, he pulled her beside him on the bed, placing his arm around her waist. She leaned into him affectionately and nestled close. Together they watched the sun rise over the horizon outside the window, basking in the warmth of the morning.

#heavysleeper #literotica #fantasy #oral #nub

[billthedrake]

KEEPING IT GOING

I remember having to wake Braden up on the weekends, since like a lot of high school jocks my son loved to stay up late and loved even more sleeping in when there was no school.

Those days were long behind us now. Maybe only a matter of a few years, but sometimes a few years feels like more than a few years, you know?

"Damn, buddy," I muttered in my half-asleep morning, the sunlight streaming in brightly. "What time is it?"

"Seven," Braden said, and as I sat up in bed I saw my son barechested and in his lacrosse shorts, standing by the bedside, expectation clear in his posture and face.

He looked beautiful, no two ways to put it. My only son was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen or slept with. Just the right amount of youthful jock leanness, just the right amount of muscle. And those goddamn tits...

As I adjusted to the light and sat up fully, pushing the covers off and swinging my legs off the side of the bed, my son had a definite apologetic edge to his voice, along with the clear need. "Sorry, Dad. I wanted to let you sleep. But I'm feeling really full this morning."

File this in be careful what you ask for. Braden was my life partner now. I mean "life partner" is a cheesy euphemism, sure, but no country on earth would give official recognition to our incestuos bond. Not that we needed it. Big B and I did what was right for us.... sex each night before bed... the decision to have a son together and the knowledge we'd be having more once Braden was finished with college and his lacrosse days.

I nuzzled up to that smooth chest, giving a couple of soft licks to the hard flesh before my mouth found that pink sensitive pap.

"Yes, Pop," Braden hissed, his hand coming up to grip the back of my neck, fingers curling into my short hair there.

I was an expert by now, knowing how to apply suction and just draw out the aureole between my lips to get the milk flowing. Even still, that second delay was sweet torture to us both, until I felt the sweetness on my tongue.

"Fuck yes," Braden hissed.

Our son was two now, and while Braden had weened Kyler off breast feeding, my son and I had a conversation about keeping the tap flowing. It meant I was taking over from our own son in nursing at Braden's chest four times a day. It was worth it.

And god, my son wasn't kidding. He was full as ever, and I just kept drinking. First from the right tap, then the left before Braden gently guided me back. "I got more in me, Pop," he muttered.

By the time I'd drained his morning reserves we were both hard as nails.

"Kyler still asleep?" I asked him.

Braden nodded, slipping off his shorts. He had a cock almost identical to mine. Powerful, rigid. I sometimes wonder what life would have been like had Braden been the one to do the fucking, the one to knock me up instead. But as he drew me to a kiss and lay me back to straddle me for a nice slow morning dad-son ride, I knew his is how it was meant to be, at least for us.

"Unh, Dad," he hissed at entry. Parenthood was amazing but it meant we didn't get to fuck quite as often as normal. Braden was tight.

I massaged his smooth muscle. "You got this, guy... just relax."

"Yeah," he hissed. After a minute he got a big smile on his face and I felt my prick enter him fully.

"That's it," I urged. "Sit on Daddy's lap."

He did, hissing in excitement as he bottomed out. We kissed, deeply, then I felt his hips rock. I thrust mine up to meet him. At night we sometimes went at it hard, but mornings were always slow and steady. We clung to each other, father and son, and rocked our bodies together.

"Fuck me, Dad," he whispered, not wanting to wake Kyler up.

"Try to stop me," I replied in a sexy growl that made my son break out in a big smile.

His hips grew more active, working to maximize the depth of my penetration. That drove us both crazy. "God, Dad, how much longer before we make another?"

We often worked pregnancy talk into sex. We did on the night we made Kyler.

I massaged his belly and chest. "That's your call buddy... I'm here when you're ready."

Braden hissed and I could tell he was getting closer to cumming. "We have a plan," he said thoughtfully. "I just... I hope I can last that long."

I actually didn't know if he was playing to my horny side, my love of breeding. But he seemed genuinely torn. "Damn, B... you know the second you stop taking those pills it's gonna happen again. Real quick."

That got him excited. "Fuck yeah it would. With your swimmers, dad." He rode me more actively now, but not as much as I was fucking up into his snug hole. "I'm surprised you didn't knock me up that first time."

"Oh buddy!" I gasped. Now I was the one getting close.

Braden recognized the fact and went for it. "Hell you could have busted my cherry and given me twins that first night... hot virile daddy."

"FUCK!" I gasped as I tried to choke back the volume of my orgasm cry.

"Yes," Braden said, working his ass up and down my spurting cock and jerking himself quickly to completion. I'd barely finished my cum when I felt the hot spurts of his son seed between us, then his lips on mine again.

We clung to one another, totally still and catching our breath. Stealing another kiss before we had to get up.

"You like that idea huh?" Braden asked.

"You know good and well," I said. Running my hands along his lactating pecs, I added. "I'd sure hate to give up primary access to these beauties, though."

Braden smirked and rolled off onto his back, showing off that amazing jock rack. "You can think about that when you make breakfast."

I gave a mock growl and got out of bed. Slipping on a pair of sweats I took one last look at my son, my love in life. And I knew I was the luckiest man alive.

[rmadridcore]

Fifteen Minute Challenge

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x Reader

Summary: Your morning takes a surprising turn when Jude refuses to let you leave for work without proving he’s impossible to resist, leaving you breathless — and very late.

Warning: Smut! (Minors DNI)

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

Author’s note: Here you go, another little fic for Jude. I wasn’t planning on writing smut just yet but the inspiration flowed lol so I had to. Let me know what you think everyone 🥰❤️

——————————————————————————

There were many things you hated, but the sound of the alarm clock had to be one of the worst. The relentless beeping tore through the peaceful silence, reminding you that it was time to leave the warmth and comfort of your bed. You groaned softly, reaching for your phone to silence the noise, yawning like your jaw might come unhinged in the process.

Jude’s arm was draped lazily over your waist, his face nuzzled comfortably into the crook of your neck. You glanced over at him and felt a pang of jealousy. Unlike you, he didn’t have to get up early today, and from the looks of it, he was having the best sleep of his life. His breathing was slow and steady, his lips slightly parted, completely at peace.

As you rubbed your eyes, already accepting the misery of having to drag yourself out of bed at 7 AM, you carefully tried to lift Jude’s arm to slip out without disturbing him. But he wasn’t having it. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer, and his face burrowed even deeper into your neck, a sleepy whine escaping his throat.

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who didn’t want you to leave.

Giving it another try, you gently moved again, hoping he had just pulled you closer in his sleep. But when you attempted to free yourself a second time, Jude let out another whine, this time shifting half of his body onto yours, effectively pinning you to the bed.

“Stop moving so much,” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep.

“Jude, I need to get up,” you whispered, trying to wiggle out from under him. You couldn’t deny how tempting it was to stay wrapped in his warmth for a few more hours, but unfortunately, work wasn’t going to wait for you.

“Stay,” he mumbled, like it was the most logical thing in the world, his tone casual, as if staying in bed with him was the only real option.

“I’d love to, but I really have to go,” you replied, your fingers gently caressing his face, slipping through his messy curls.

His response wasn’t verbal this time. Instead, his lips found the curve of your neck, planting soft, lazy kisses along your skin. His breath was warm, sending shivers down your spine as he trailed kisses from your shoulder to the sensitive spot beneath your ear — the place he knew always drove you crazy.

A quiet whimper escaped your lips, a testament to how much you loved the feel of his mouth on your skin. But it was making it infinitely harder to pry yourself from his arms and face the reality of leaving the bed.

“Jude,” you breathed out, his name falling from your lips in a mixture of plea and surrender. But whether you were asking him to stop or urging him to keep going, you weren’t entirely sure.

He shifted above you, pulling your body beneath his, his lips never leaving your skin. Now hovering over you, he let his mouth roam from your neck to your collarbone, each kiss sending sparks of warmth through you.

“I had a dream about you,” he murmured against your skin, his lips moving up to trace your jawline with his tongue. “I couldn’t wait to wake up and make that dream come true.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers slipped under the hem of the shirt you were wearing, his shirt, lifting it slowly as he leaned back to gaze down at you, his dark eyes heavy with intent.

“Jude, I’m gonna be late,” you protested, though your voice lacked any real conviction. You should have stopped him, but the truth was you didn’t want to. Not even a little. When he slipped your shirt off and tossed it carelessly across the room, the last thing on your mind was work.

“All I need is 15 minutes,” he promised, his voice low and thick with intent. His left hand found your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingertips, sending jolts of pleasure through you. “By that time, you’ll have come twice.”

A shiver ran down your spine, both from his words and the way he was already working your body. But you knew Jude. “Fifteen minutes?” you half-laughed, half-moaned. “That’s not nearly enough for you.”

It was true. Jude wasn’t one for rushing. He liked to take his time, savoring every second. He loved having you ready for him, loved making you drip with anticipation. Quickies weren’t his style, he preferred long sessions where he could thoroughly take care of your needs. He was the kind of lover who’d make you forget about time altogether. But today, he seemed determined.

“Set the timer,” he murmured, pulling his hand away from your breast and pausing the trail of kisses he’d been laying across your skin. “I’ll make sure you’re not late. And that you leave in a very good mood.”

You blinked up at him, unsure whether he was serious or just teasing you. The cocky grin on his face made it hard to tell. But when he didn’t follow it up with a laugh, you realized he wasn’t joking. He reached over, grabbed your phone from the nightstand, and handed it to you with a raised brow.

You hesitated, but the temptation was too strong. Sighing in defeat, you set the timer for 15 minutes and placed your phone back on the bedside table. Before you could second-guess yourself, Jude’s lips were on yours, his kiss deep and demanding, and his tongue sliding into your mouth with ease.

His kisses always had a way of making you feel like you were simultaneously falling apart and being put back together. There was a comfort in the familiarity of his lips, but every kiss from him was filled with an intensity that always caught you off guard. It was like he knew exactly how to make your body come alive, how to ignite that fire inside you with just a touch.

You cupped his face with both hands, your fingers threading through his hair as you tried to keep up with him, battling his tongue for dominance. But Jude was never one to let you win. His tongue expertly claimed your mouth, leaving you breathless, overwhelmed by the force of his kiss.

His hand slid down your body, fingers tracing your skin lightly until they reached your core. He pressed his palm against your covered sex, and you moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled by the intensity of his lips on yours.

You tried to pull back, desperate to let the moan escape properly, but Jude only deepened the kiss, devouring you as his fingers worked their magic below.

He tugged your panties to the side, his fingers brushing against your slick folds, teasing you, drawing out more soft moans that he swallowed eagerly.

You were already so wet, your body responding to him without hesitation, like it was trained to react to his touch.

“Is this all for me?” Jude asked, his voice low and rough as his fingers continued to explore your dripping wet folds, teasing you with every stroke. His eyes darkened with desire as he felt just how ready you were for him.

“Always,” you whispered, your breath hot against his skin as you trailed your lips down to his neck, pressing soft kisses that made him shiver.

Without warning, Jude slipped two fingers inside you, and you yelped his name, your body arching up into him. His thumb began circling your clit, teasing it just enough to have you gasping, until finally, he pressed down with just the right amount of pressure.

“Oh, fuck!” you moaned, your voice trembling as his fingers pumped in and out of you, building a rhythm that made your entire body thrum with anticipation. His mouth returned to your neck, sucking on that sensitive spot just under your ear that never failed to make you lose control.

“That feel good?” he whispered against your skin, his breath warm as his fingers picked up their pace. The way he said it, so soft yet so full of heat, sent another wave of pleasure coursing through you.

You couldn’t form a coherent response. Words failed you completely. All you could do was nod, your head falling back as your eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers curling inside you, finding that perfect spot that made your toes curl and your mind go blank.

Jude chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He never seemed to get enough of seeing you like this — helpless beneath him, reduced to nothing but breathy moans and yelps of his name.

And his name — it was the only thing you could manage to say. “Jude!” you cried out, your voice barely more than a whimper. Or maybe it was because it was the only thing you could remember when you were this close to unraveling completely. You didn’t mind one bit.

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, your body clenching as his thumb pressed harder on your clit, and his fingers worked you faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Jude, I’m gonna come!” you gasped, your body trembling beneath him as the pressure inside you built to an unbearable high.

He groaned into your neck, his fingers never slowing down, relentlessly hitting your G-spot with precision. “Let go for me,” he murmured, his words soft yet commanding.

And that was all it took. The moment the words left his lips, your entire body shattered into a million pieces. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the orgasm tore through you, tingles racing up your spine as your hips bucked against his hand.

Your thighs shook, your whole body going tense as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through you. Jude didn’t stop, his fingers moving in and out of you, working you through your high until you were completely spent. Your breath came out in short gasps, your chest rising and falling rapidly as the last tremors of your orgasm faded.

Finally, he slowed, pulling his fingers out of you gently, his touch soft and careful. He leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, his hands sliding up your thighs, squeezing them tenderly as you tried to catch your breath.

Wasting no time, Jude tugged at the waistband of your panties, pulling them down swiftly before stripping off his own underwear in one fluid motion. His cock sprang free, rock hard, veiny, and as delicious as ever.

“Shit—” he mumbled under his breath, forcing your thighs apart with a sense of urgency. “I need you so bad, baby,” he whimpered, giving himself a few rough strokes.

You loved this side of him, the way his usual cocky demeanor would melt away when his need for you became overwhelming. It made you feel electric, knowing that he was just as desperate as you were, that the smugness he wore so well couldn’t hide his raw hunger anymore.

He pressed the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that only made you more impatient. Your thighs tightened around his waist, pulling him closer as your hips bucked up toward him, a needy whine escaping your lips. You needed him inside you, now.

But Jude wasn’t going to make it that easy. “Use your words,” he ordered, his voice dropping an octave, full of restrained desire. He wasn’t giving in yet.

“Please, Jude,” you whimpered, knowing there was no time to be coy or bratty. The ache inside you was unbearable. “Fuck me. Please.”

The moment the words left your mouth, Jude pushed into you, slow at first, dragging it out deliberately as he buried himself deep inside you. But the second he heard the loud, desperate moan that tore from your throat, his pace quickened. He couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Shit…” Jude cursed, his face scrunching up in pleasure as he felt your wet heat clenching around him.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out, the two of you perfectly in sync as your curses overlapped in the heat of the moment. He stretched you so perfectly, filling you up, hitting all the right spots. It helped that you were so wet for him, so turned on that he slid inside with ease, like your body was made for him.

“Y/N, you’re so warm,” he groaned, his voice thick with pleasure. His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, the sensation overwhelming him. He leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he breathed heavily, his moans filling the space between your bodies.

You weren’t about to let up. “Fuck me. Please,” you begged, your voice raw and urgent. There was no hesitation, no shyness left in you, just a primal need for more of him. Jude kissed the sweet spot between your neck and shoulder, his lips hot against your skin.

“Please, Jude, just—” you didn’t even need to finish the sentence. Your desperate pleas and the sight of your eyes rolling back were all the encouragement he needed.

He thrust into you harder, his rhythm relentless and perfectly in tune with your body. Jude was lost in you, in the way your pussy gripped him with every stroke, the way you cried out his name like he was the only thing that mattered.

“God, Y/N, you feel heavenly,” he groaned, his voice strained with effort as he picked up the pace. His grip on your hips tightened, his eyes fixated on where your bodies met, watching his cock disappear into your dripping wet cunt. You were so wet, so creamy, your arousal coating his length as he pounded into you, and it drove him wild.

This was everything. Being buried deep inside you, feeling how perfectly you fit around him, how your body responded to his every move — it was the kind of bliss he wanted to savor forever. If he could die feeling this, he would die a happy man.

You wanted to yell, scream, and shout out how incredible it felt, how only Jude could make you feel this way, how this — being with him — was exactly where you would choose to stay for the rest of your life if given the chance. But forming a full sentence? Impossible. Your brain was clouded, every thought consumed by him, and only him.

Jude's deep, breathy grunts were like music to your ears. He knew how much you loved when he was vocal, so he made sure to stay close, his mouth never far from your ear. Every moan, every grunt, became the soundtrack of your ecstasy, filling the room along with the rhythmic sound of the bed's headboard slamming against the wall.

“Feels good, huh?” Jude repeated, his voice low and teasing, but the hint of desperation, his own need, was palpable. He wasn’t immune to how you made him feel either.

Your answer came out in a breathy moan, “Yeah.” It was all you could manage.

“Yeah?” His tone was smug, full of confidence, but the urgency was there too. The way he needed this just as badly as you did.

Jude shifted, grabbing your left leg and throwing it over his shoulder, opening you up and plunging deeper inside you. The new angle was overwhelming; you felt him impossibly deep, almost in your stomach, every thrust more intense than the last.

“Jude.” You cried out his name, and you felt him smile into the crook of your neck, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

“You sound so pretty moaning my name, baby. I fucking love how beautiful you sound.” It wasn’t just a compliment, it was his truth. Possibly the truest thing he’d ever said. Hearing you cry out for him, especially when words failed you and all you could do was scream his name, was his favorite thing in the world.

He was panting hard now, but he didn’t stop. He couldn't.

His thrusts were steady, relentless. His left hand found its way between your bodies, where the two of you became one, while his right hand gripped your leg over his shoulder. His fingers found your clit, teasing it with a slight pinch before massaging it with the perfect amount of pressure.

Between his deep grunts, the sound of his cock plunging in and out of you, his fingers working your clit, and his whispered praises in your ear, it all became too much.

“Fuck, Jude, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped, the intense pressure building up inside you, threatening to break you apart. You needed to warn him, though it felt like he already knew.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his hand leaving your thigh to grab your face, holding you firmly so you couldn’t turn away, couldn’t close your eyes.

His grip was possessive, but his gaze — God, his gaze was full of fire. You forced your eyes open, meeting his deep, dark stare.

“That’s it. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Let me see how pretty you look when you cum.”

You couldn’t tear your gaze from his as your mouth dropped open, a loud, primal moan escaping your lips. There was no way someone didn’t hear that, but you didn’t care.

Your entire body trembled violently, the orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. Jude watched you closely, taking in every shake, every twitch, and the way your body quivered beneath him.

It was glorious.

This was the kind of orgasm every woman deserved to experience. And for him, watching you unravel like this was everything.

Just as your orgasm began to fade, you felt him grunt loudly, his body tensing as he thrust into you three or four more times, emptying himself deep inside you. His release was intense, and it hit him hard, but he never let his gaze leave yours.

After, Jude leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, soft and slow, your breathing still heavy and erratic as you shared the same air. No words were needed. What had just happened between you — mind-blowing, incredible, beyond anything either of you could express in words — said it all.

Jude propped himself down right beside you, still trying to steady his breathing. His chest rose and fell rapidly, mirroring your own, and without a word, he pulled you close, laying you gently on top of him, his fingers tracing soft circles on your back. The warmth of his skin against yours was calming, a perfect contrast to the intensity that had just passed.

Just as you were about to say something, perhaps to tease him or maybe even thank him, the timer you had set earlier went off, cutting through the silence. The reminder that your fifteen minutes were officially up.

You glanced up at him, catching sight of his signature cocky grin spreading across his lips. That beautiful, smug look of his, the one that always made your heart skip a beat, was plastered on his face. He looked so content, basking in the glow of his small victory.

“Now you’re free to go,” he said with a playful smirk, his voice deep and teasing. He didn’t even move, just lay there, hands tucked behind his head as if he hadn’t just completely rocked your world. His chest vibrated with a satisfied sigh, the winner's grin still lingering.

You reached over to turn the timer off, shaking your head with a small laugh, your body still tingling from the aftermath. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, unable to hide your smile as you gently slapped his chest, finally dragging yourself out of bed.